Back to Lazarus (Sydney Brennan)

by Judy K. Walker

  “Yes. I think that’s the one. I was in there for a few minutes. When I left, it must have been around 9 p.m. It was dark. I’d probably driven about 20 minutes when the pick-up in front of me stopped short. There was another vehicle behind me, I believe also a pick-up. I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t suspicious at all. I just thought there was something in the road. Someone from the vehicle behind me knocked on my window. I couldn’t see him because he was standing too close and he’d left his high beams on. When I opened the door, he yanked me out, threw a hood over me and dragged me to the bed of the first pick-up.”

  “Did you see anyone?”

  “I didn’t see any faces if that’s what you mean. When they took my hood off, they were all dressed in black, wearing gloves and ski masks that covered their mouths.”

  “Go on.”

  “They drove for a while. Just in the one truck. I don’t know how long, but probably not more than 15 minutes and definitely not more than half an hour. Then we pulled off onto a little dirt road. There was a clearing in the woods there, and that’s where they took my hood off.”

  “Would you recognize the place if you saw it again?”

  “I don’t know. I might.”

  “How many people were there?”

  I closed my eyes. “One held me in a sort of chokehold while we were driving. He had strong body odor. When we stopped everyone moved around—they were wearing heavy boots and the metal truck bed was bare—and there were three men in the back with me. I’d guess there were two more in the cab, but I’m not sure. It could have been as little as one or as many as three. So total, between four and six men.”

  I opened my eyes. “I don’t really remember much after that. Flashes, but nothing that makes much sense. Obviously they knocked me around quite a bit. I don’t know how I got away, but I probably got in a few shots of my own.”

  I looked down at my hands. “My nails are a mess. I don’t know if anyone took samples—“

  “We have swabs and clippings. It’s the hospital’s standard procedure for potential, uh, well.” Sutton trailed off.

  “I wasn’t raped. I’m not sure what did happen, but I know I wasn’t raped.”

  “Yes, ma’am. We’re aware that you weren’t sexually assaulted.”

  I tried not to think too hard about that one. “Somehow I got away and ran into the woods. I must have been there all night. I think there was a farmer the next morning.”

  My eyes slid shut again. I was so exhausted that tears leaked from the outer corners of my eyes. I just wanted to sleep. My arm was too heavy to move to reach my soda.

  Sutton spoke. “Yes, ma’am. Mr. Fisher. He and his wife brought you in this morning. We’ve spoken with him and he’s going to take us out there this afternoon, out where he found you.”

  I had a quick flash of memory and opened my eyes. “We marked it.”

  “Yes, ma’am. We’ll see if we can back-track from there to the clearing.”

  My eyes were closed again, and I thought they must have taken the hint until Drake’s voice cut into my doze.

  “Ms. Brennan,” he said sharply. I opened my eyes. “What were you working on?”

  “I can’t imagine it had anything to do with this.”

  “With all due respect, Miss Brennan,” and Drake’s expression told me how little was due, “that’s our job, deciding what is or isn’t relevant.”

  I tried to glare at him, and it made my head hurt worse. I almost told him to fuck off. Probably not a smart move, but under the circumstances, who could hold it against me? After another good look at Drake, I felt sure he would. I fully intended to stare him down for as long as I remained conscious, but was saved from such a dramatic gesture by Sutton.

  “Ms. Brennan, you said you were here working on a case. We know you live in Tallahassee, and my guess is you don’t take many pleasure trips to Stetler County. In fact, correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m guessing you don’t know a single person here that’s not connected with what you’re working on. Doesn’t it make sense that we should start with your investigation?”

  I sighed. Put that way, I knew he was right, and I was too tired to argue. It was getting more and more difficult to speak, and I wasn’t sure what I could ethically divulge.

  “I can’t give you details until I’ve spoken to my client. I’m looking into her—family background.”

  Drake leaned forward. “Anything illegal in it? Any criminal history?”

  I knew this was an area that would make the case, and my client, pretty easily identifiable, but I didn’t care anymore. I just wanted to be left alone. “Someone in her family was convicted of killing his wife 20 years ago. He’s dead now. There are no active issues. There was nothing… unresolved. That’s why it doesn’t make sense. It must be something else.”

  I closed my eyes, and this time I wasn’t opening them again for anyone or anything. Fortunately I didn’t have to test my resolve. Marie came in and asked them to leave. I was asleep before they left the building, if not before they left my room.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  When I opened my eyes, there was someone sitting in a chair next to my bed that I didn’t immediately recognize. His floppy chestnut hair was still parted in the middle, but it only fell to the top of his ears. Even more surprising, his skin was tanned, with a slightly reddish tinge that promised to turn brown within days. And he wasn’t sitting in front of a computer.

  “Mike?” I asked.

  “Sydney!” His magazine slid off his lap onto the floor and he bent to pick it up. He was still wearing his glasses, or I never would have recognized him.

  “You’re awake.”

  One of my eyes seemed to have swollen even more. I blinked several times but it remained a slit. I narrowed the other eye at Mike.

  “You got a haircut.”

  He blushed, deepening his sunburn.

  “And a tan,” I went on. “How many days have I been out?”

  He laughed. “Just a few hours. I went fishing in the Gulf yesterday. Per your suggestion.”

  He looked down at his forearm, pressing with a finger until his tan turned white, then looked up again. “Richard’s here too. He just went to get us something to drink. In case anyone asks, we work with you. That’s the only way they’d let us in.”

  “Who, Marie? Is it past visiting hours?”

  “I don’t know who Marie is, but the sheriff has somebody posted in the hall. They’re not letting just anyone in to see you.”

  “And you said we work together? If that gets back to Drake, he’ll be all over my ass the next time he interrogates me.”

  I told Mike about my visit from law enforcement, that Drake had been the bad cop in the routine, acting suspicious of everything I said. The thought of going another few rounds with him exhausted me. I tried to look for my cup of soda, but my field of vision had decreased as the swelling around my eye increased, and when I turned my head I was swamped by nausea.

  Mike stood from his chair. “Are you okay? Do you want me to get the nurse?”

  Normally I’d tell him, or anyone else, I was fine until I dropped where I stood. Of course, I wasn’t standing right now. I’d been beaten into submission, and that thought more than the pain itself brought tears to my eyes. I tried to smile and said, “Please.”

  I wasn’t sure any sound came out, but Mike understood and waved a nurse down from the doorway. Closing my eyes and breathed deeply through my nose, I tried not to cry. It wasn’t pride; I knew how painful a bout of sobbing would be. A nurse, not Marie, came in and gave me something in my IV. I sighed and slipped away again.

  The next time I opened my eyes, Richard was next to my bed. He was wearing reading glasses and had a paperback book in his hands. Mike sat a little beyond him, flipping through another magazine. I must have moved or made some sort of sound because they both looked up.

  “Hey, Sleeping Beauty.” Richard smiled, but it was a half-hearted attempt. In the harsh fluorescent
lighting he looked his age, his brow marked by deep lines. He leaned forward, and I heard Mike’s chair scoot closer.

  “How are you feeling?” Richard asked.

  I swallowed thickly. “Thirsty.” He held a straw to my lips and I took a few sips of water.

  “I was hoping for something stronger.”

  Richard turned to Mike and clapped him on the shoulder. They both laughed. When Richard turned back to face me it was with a real smile, the kind that made my pulse race. For a moment my inner ears grew numb with the rush of blood, but that passed and my spirits lifted. The not-Marie nurse must have heard them laughing. She came in before the smiles had faded from their faces and introduced herself as Lily. After she checked me out, I asked her for a soda.

  With the first sip, I noticed a different kind of discomfort. I had to pee. Bad. I didn’t have a catheter (thank god) and no one had mentioned anything about bodily functions. Maybe they expected me to use a bedpan. Well, that wasn’t happening. I looked at the two men sitting next to me. Maybe it was the drugs talking, but modesty be damned.

  “Lily, I have to pee like a big dog.”

  Both men blinked hard, and I saw Lily’s eyes move to an elongated plastic kidney bean on a stand nearby.

  “In the bathroom,” I continued firmly.

  We didn’t argue because I didn’t say anything. I knew it was going to take a lot out of me to walk to the bathroom so I saved my strength. I simply refused to change my mind.

  The room was a double, but there was no one in the other bed. Fortunately my bed was the one closest to the bathroom. Lily pulled down my sheet and helped me swing my legs to the floor. I waited for the blood to stop roaring in my ears. When it did, I noticed the breeze on my backside.

  “You guys better not look at my naked butt.”

  I could tell they were both trying not to laugh. Laugh, cry, hospitals, funerals, it’s all the same. Anything to release the tension.

  My legs were too short to reach the floor while sitting on my bed. I’d have to slide off the edge of the bed. No problem. Lily stood in front of me to my left side. She apparently favored Broken Arm over Sausage Hand. (Stress Fracture Arm just doesn’t sound as sexy.) Sitting at the edge of the mattress like a kid on the high dive, with Lily waiting to catch me, I finally took a deep breath and plunged.

  Unfortunately I’d forgotten about my nearly shredded feet. I cried out when I landed on them, and I would have crumpled to the floor if she hadn’t steadied me. Mike and Richard moved forward, but she waved them away. I stood there catching my breath, getting used to the bruised, fiery pain in my feet. With the sheet pulled up, I don’t think Mike and Richard had seen my bandaged feet. They certainly hadn’t seen my bruised shins and calves, and my gown’s thin cotton sleeves had slid up to reveal more cuts and bruises. I found out later that even my back was black and blue, so it’s just as well that they heeded my admonishment not to look at my naked butt. One of them sucked in air involuntarily, but I didn’t look. I didn’t want to see their expressions.

  Lily helped me shuffle to the bathroom. She went in with me and closed the door, but I didn’t feel self-conscious. I was too glad for the assistance. I couldn’t use the handicapped bars effectively with my injuries, so my descent was an exercise in controlled falling. Before long I had an empty bladder, and I’d accomplished my goal with nothing more than the expected delays caused by head rushes and cloudy vision. I didn’t even pee on my feet.

  When Lily and I emerged, Mike and Richard were singing Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Have You Ever Seen the Rain.” They couldn’t agree on the words to the verses, so they’d just sung the chorus over and over, in at least two different keys.

  “We didn’t want you to think we were listening to you tinkle,” Mike explained in a stage whisper.

  I may have only known them for a few days, but Mike and Richard made good hospital buddies. They managed to chatter at me until Lily kicked them out, without ever touching on anything too heavy. They left an assortment of magazines and comic books behind, apparently chosen at random from the hospital newsstand. It was sweet of them, but I didn’t have the energy or the inclination for reading yet. All I wanted to do was sleep. My slumber was so heavy that night, I didn’t see the third shift nurse at all. It was like someone had flipped the power switch in my head to the off position. I didn’t dream, and I doubt that I even rolled over. In fact, considering my injuries, I’m sure I didn’t. I opened my eyes the next morning just long enough for Marie to give me some juice. Then I went right back to sleep.

  Mike and Richard came by around lunch. Apparently they’d called ahead and found out I’d be allowed to eat outside food. They brought me a cup of rich potato soup with a piece of crusty bread. I didn’t ask where they’d gotten it, but it was still hot, and it was delicious, with just a hint of smoky cheese. Eating it was a bit of challenge. My right hand was still too swollen to manipulate, and because of the stress fracture I didn’t have my usual range of motion with my left either. Fortunately, they’d foreseen the difficulty and brought one of those flattened ladle-like spoons that you use in Asian restaurants. It took a while, but eventually I got more in my mouth than on my gown.

  When they went back to work, I went back to dozing. During one of my waking periods, I realized they hadn’t been on their lunch break; it was Saturday. No, wait, it was Sunday. I was supposed to do something today, or yesterday, but I couldn’t remember what, and I didn’t care enough to try very hard. It was sweet of them to visit, but they hadn’t said if or when they’d be back. I felt an uncharacteristic twinge at the thought of leaving without saying goodbye.

  Mike and Richard did return in a few hours, but to my disappointment they hadn’t brought food. Having kept the soup down, I was starting to get hungry for real food again. Dr. McCauley came in while I was chastising them for the oversight. They remained in my room, but retreated a discreet distance away while he poked and prodded, checked vitals and bandages. Once the doctor pulled my sheet back up and patted it absently, they resumed hovering.

  It never even occurred to me to ask them to leave. Dr. McCauley said a lot about my injuries, and they hung on every word. Of course, the only words I heard were “recovering nicely” and “home tomorrow.”

  “No driving, for at least a week. We’ll set up a follow-up appointment for you in Tallahassee and take it from there. Have you made arrangements yet for transportation?”

  I hadn’t anticipated the driving ban, although I probably should have. Blame it on the head injury. Before I could protest, Richard spoke.

  “We’ve taken care of it. Thank you, doctor.”

  I waited until McCauley left. “What do you mean you’ve taken care of it?”

  “We’re driving you back tomorrow, you and your car.”

  “It’s a rental.”

  “Good. Then we’ll just drop it at the airport.” Richard turned to Mike. “We can do that this evening, if the cops are done with it.”

  My strength must have been returning because my stubborn streak definitely was. “Look, not that I don’t appreciate your help, but were you thinking of consulting me?”

  “It makes sense. Just don’t worry about it. Let us take care of it.”

  Richard’s words sounded like condescension to my addled brain. “I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”

  “Look, I know you’re exhausted and you’re in pain, but don’t be unreasonable.”

  “Unreasonable? Well, isn’t that a typical male response? I’m not just some helpless female victim—“

  “Sydney.” Mike had moved next to my bed and put his hand on my shoulder briefly, just long enough to establish eye contact. His voice was soft but firm. “You were a victim. I can’t imagine you ever being helpless, but you were a victim. Right now you can’t hold a steering wheel, and you can’t press the brakes. We’re your friends. Just let us do this for you.”

  My irrational (I could admit that to myself but never to Richard) anger and frustrati
on evaporated, and I felt watery inside. Before I could make a spectacle of myself, we had another set of visitors. Intruders. Drake and Sutton. The four men may have all been associated with our justice system, but they didn’t move in the same circles. It was more like a Venn diagram, with friction where the circles overlapped. Right now I was the overlap.

  Mike and Richard stood together at one side of my bed, while Drake and Sutton moved to the other. They eyed each other warily, like wolves over a carcass. I guess that made me the carcass. Drake said they’d heard that I was leaving town tomorrow, making it sound as if I were making a prison break instead of going home.

  I didn’t rise to the bait, nor did my appointed protectors. We were on our best behavior. Richard explained our anticipated check-out plan. Sutton said they weren’t done with the rental car, but they’d take care of returning it, and if Mike and Richard came by this evening they could get my belongings.

  “What about your client?” Drake asked.

  I’d started to drift off again and was caught by surprise. “What about her?”

  “Have you spoken with her yet?”

  “No. I didn’t think to tell my kidnappers to wait while I grabbed my day timer.”

  Drake looked at me blankly. Normally I would assume he was just being an ass, but in the past 48 hours I couldn’t always be sure that my thoughts emerged from my mouth intact.

  “I don’t have her number,” I clarified.

  “We can’t let you leave until you give us that information,” Drake said.

  “What makes you think you have the authority to stop me? You think you can run this place like your own little backwater fiefdom—“ Fortunately Mike saw where I was headed and once again stepped in as the peacemaker.

  “She won’t be leaving until tomorrow afternoon. Sydney, was your client’s contact information in your car?”

  “Yes, but—“

  “John, we’ll come get Sydney’s things tonight. That should give her plenty of time to contact her client. If you return tomorrow at, say 11 a.m., I’m sure she’ll have the information for you.”