Her Perfect Proposal

by Lynne Marshall

  Maybe it really was as easy as making a conscious decision to back off the story.

  In a massive conflict of interest, she’d thrown over her best guy and set the town up for a confrontation with city hall, all for the sake of one stinking, smug, I-know-something-that-you-don’t story lead.

  She’d hate to look in a mirror right now. An overwhelming sense of failure enveloped her as she left the café.

  Her father might be proud of her for breaking a major town story, but a gaping black hole had just opened up in the middle of her self-respect. She owed Gunnar and the entire town her heartfelt apology.

  *

  While trolling the dark streets of the docks with his lights off, Gunnar saw the first flames on the far side and drove toward them. It looked like the Maritime Museum had been hit. He parked, followed protocol and alerted his task force, then notified the fire department. He could wait for backup and risk losing his lead or jump out of his car and run for the scene. In his mind he did the right thing, lunging out the door and sprinting toward the fire.

  A hundred yards out, a flash in his peripheral vision grabbed his full attention. It was someone dressed all in black running like a speeding shadow. He made a U-turn and hit the asphalt in full pursuit chasing down his target. The suspect dived behind some bushes, and Gunnar flattened himself against a shack, drawing his weapon and listening over his ragged breath for a clue where the suspect was hiding.

  He edged to the corner of the wall, readying his heavy-duty flashlight with his left hand like an ice pick in the Harries hold, his gun hand resting on the wrist of the other hand for stability. He counted to three and stepped around the corner, his flashlight scanning the bushes. He saw movement and turned toward it at the exact moment a shot rang out. He rapidly returned fire and heard a loud groan, having hit his mark. Only then did he feel the white-hot pain in his left shoulder.

  The police backup was right on his heels and the officers swarmed the bush, finding the guy curled into a ball hugging his right thigh.

  Searing pain shot up Gunnar’s shoulder and into his neck. His vision doubled and he had to sit down. Unable to hold up the flashlight any longer, he let go of it and lowered his gun, then dropped first to his knees then onto his butt. The jolt of hitting the pavement sent sharp nauseating pain up to his shoulder. His head felt swimmy. He put it between his spread legs and bent knees and concentrated on breathing through the raging sting zinging along the nerve endings in his shoulder.

  Sirens sounded from all directions, coming for the fire no doubt, but hopefully an ambulance was on its way for him, too, since the sticky wetness from his gunshot spread quickly across his chest and dripped down onto his stomach.

  His peripheral vision going dark, Gunnar shivered and clinched his eyes closed.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lilly was still in her office peering through the ceiling-to-floor windows into the building’s foyer, trying her best to get her mind off the saddest day of her life, when she noticed a couple of officers run out the door and in to their cruisers. Thankful for distraction, she scurried over to the PD’s front desk.

  “Anything special going on?”

  “Another fire at the docks,” the older man reported.

  Lilly rushed back to her cubicle, grabbed her purse and headed for her car. Ten minutes later she showed up at the scene, which was easy to spot from several blocks away. Flames ate through the Maritime Museum as several fire units fought them back. Just like the last time, the police took over the scene blocking off all entrances to the activities. She looked for Gunnar, not that he’d want to see her or anything, but he was nowhere in sight.

  She recognized one of the younger cops named Eric and headed straight to him. “What time did the fire start?”

  “About a half hour ago.”

  She flashed her reporter ID. “Is arson suspected again?”

  “Don’t know yet.” Eric recognized her, probably as Gunnar’s new girl, not a journalist. “But Gunnar saw someone running from the scene and chased him. Took a bullet. But we got the suspect in custody.”

  “Who took a bullet, Gunnar or the suspect?” Worry and fear converged and rushed through her veins at the thought of Gunnar being hurt.

  “Both.”

  The news of his being shot hit her like back draft, nearly knocking her over. “Is Gunnar okay? Where’d they take him?”

  “Got shot in the shoulder. Wanted his buddy Kent to take care of it.”

  Lilly had been dating Gunnar for a month, and though she’d heard all about his best friend, Kent, she’d only briefly met him once when she’d interviewed Desi. Fortunately, she knew where his Urgent Care was, since it was the only medical facility in Heartlandia.

  “Thanks,” she said, gathering all of her wherewithal to think straight and keep moving, just before she snaked through the gathering crowd and sprinted to her car.

  Ten minutes later, she rushed the entrance of the UC and ran to the reception area. “I’m looking for Gunnar Norling,” she said, nearly breathless.

  “We can’t disclose any names of patients. State law,” the full-bearded, college-aged receptionist said, looking distracted by whatever he was inputting on his work computer.

  “Did a gunshot wound just come here?”

  “Sorry. Can’t disclose anything.”

  “I’m his girlfriend, damn it!”

  The kid finally looked up. His gaze swept over Lilly head to waist, since she stood at the low reception counter. He thought a few seconds and then picked up the phone. “I have Sergeant Norling’s girlfriend at the front desk. Can she come back?”

  Oh, God, he’d just broken up with her, now she wanted special privileges to see him. Would he let her?

  She folded her arms, fueled by adrenaline, nervous pangs running the length of her body as she tapped her toe.

  “Okay.” The receptionist put down the phone. “Dr. Larson will be right with you. Wait over there.” He pointed to a secluded area by another door.

  She did what she was told, fearing that Gunnar was too injured to see her, or worse yet, never wanted to see her again. Oh, God, she could barely take the anxiety zipping around her stomach, making her feel as if she might hurl.

  She swallowed, and swallowed, forcing herself to shape up.

  “Lilly?” A deep and soothing voice said her name from behind.

  She spun around to see the huge guy, at least a foot taller than her, in a white coat, and like so many of the other men in town, a regular Nordic god.

  “I’m Kent, Gunnar’s best friend, remember me?”

  “Yes, of course. Hi. Good to see you again. Well, not under these circumstances…” Get a grip! She inhaled. “Is he okay?”

  “He is. Got a nasty bullet lodged in his shoulder and I don’t have an adequate procedure room here to remove it. We’ve taken X-rays and now we’re cleaning up the wound and getting him ready for transport to Astoria for surgery.”

  Her hand flew to her mouth, and tears pooled and overflowed onto her cheeks. “May I see him?”

  Kent’s lips tightened into a straight line. “I’m sorry, but he really isn’t up to seeing anyone just now.”

  Damn, damn, damn, she’d ruined everything and Gunnar had sent his friend out to blow her off. He obviously didn’t want anything to do with her. She dropped her head, not wanting Kent to see her cry. How many more people in town could she bear to see her cry?

  His huge hand clasped one of her arms and he gave a gentle squeeze. “I gave him a pain shot and he’s practically out to the world.” He took out his prescription pad and wrote on it. “Here’s the address of the hospital we’re sending him to. He’ll be going to surgery once he gets cleared in the ER there, but you can stick around if you’d like.”

  “Thank you.” She took the paper, wanting to fling her arms around Dr. Larson, for giving her hope. Maybe Gunnar really didn’t know she was here. Maybe he really was out cold from a pain shot. Maybe he hadn’t said the most despicable words she could
think of—I don’t want to see her—after all.

  Kent nodded, then ducked back behind the private door as an ambulance arrived in the parking lot.

  She went outside and hung around in hopes of glimpsing Gunnar.

  Five minutes later she got her wish. Out he rolled on the narrow gurney, eyes closed, chin slack. He was shirtless with a large dressing on his left shoulder, getting rolled toward the back of the vehicle.

  She rushed to his side and took his hand, squeezed, before the paramedic could stop her. “Gunnar, it’s Lilly. I’m here. I’ll see you after surgery.” It might have been her imagination, but she thought there was a faint squeeze in return.

  The EMTs loaded him into the back of the ambulance and she stood and watched until they left the parking lot, hit the road and started the siren.

  Fingers crossed, he didn’t know she was here, and he hadn’t banned her from the procedure room. Maybe she could mend the mess she’d made with him. There had to be some way to win back his trust.

  She stood watching as the red light flashed farther and farther in the distance and the piercing sound of the siren faded.

  The drive her father and mother had instilled in her since she was a child took over, and instead of following the ambulance to the hospital—since Gunnar would probably be going to surgery ASAP after clearance in the ER—she went to the newspaper to input her report first. She rationalized that she wouldn’t be able to see Gunnar until recovery anyway, and the story would only take half an hour to write. This second fire story inside of one month needed to make the front page.

  The instant she pressed Send on the story and attached photograph to Bjork, she got back into her car and drove to Astoria to find out about Gunnar.

  She’d tell everyone at the hospital she was his girlfriend, and since he’d be unconscious, they’d have to believe her.

  Nothing would stop her from being by his side when he came to.

  *

  The tall, thin blonde named Elke Norling called all the shots at the small Astoria hospital. A fierce sister, taking charge, she questioned Lilly the newspaper reporter like a prison guard in the surgery waiting room.

  “How do I know you’re not only here to get a story?” Her features reminded Lilly of a young Meryl Streep with a pointy nose sitting crooked on her face.

  “I’ve been dating Gunnar for a month now.”

  “He’s never mentioned you to me.”

  That sort of said it all, didn’t it? He’d never told his only living family member about her. Her earlier optimism from Kent sank to the pit of her stomach like a bag of sand.

  A racket ensued behind her. She turned to find a middle-aged man, dressed all in black including a hoodie, handcuffed to a gurney, getting rolled into the ER. His leg was bandaged and it appeared he hadn’t been given the pain relief that Gunnar had when she’d seen him.

  Two policemen followed the emergency medical technicians pushing him on the gurney to the emergency department.

  The wild-eyed man looked right at Lilly. Recognition flashed through his eyes. “Her. I want to talk to her.”

  One of the policemen accompanying him she’d met at the last fire, and he noticed her. “Why do you want to talk to her? Do you even know who she is?”

  True, her picture ran beside all of her stories in the paper, and Heartlandia wasn’t exactly running over with Asians, but did anyone really know who she was?

  “Sure. She’s the lady from the Herald.” There he went again, staring her down like a wounded feral animal with a plan. “I want to talk to you.”

  The look creeped her out.

  “You’re going to see a doctor first,” the wise cop said.

  A young head nurse met them at the ER entrance. Wearing an unearthly color of green scrubs, she stopped them. “I’m sorry, but we’re out of rooms. Put him over there for now.” She pointed to a long hallway at the back of the hospital entrance. One other gurney complete with patient was already parked along the wall. “We’ll have to do the intake from there.”

  Lilly turned her attention back to Elke, who hadn’t moved, pleading with her eyes. “I’m in love with your brother. He doesn’t know it because I haven’t told him yet.” Elke seemed to stare into her soul, and Lilly stood with her head tall letting her. She made a snap decision to confess. “He broke up with me tonight.” She connected with Elke’s gaze, hoping with every breath the woman could understand the situation, and that she’d believe her. “You’ve got to let me see him, though. Please.”

  Something had softened in Elke’s eyes. Maybe she did believe Lilly. She nodded. “Once he’s out of recovery and assigned to a room, I’ll make sure your name is on the list of visitors.”

  Without a thought, Lilly dived for Elke and hugged her. “Oh, thank you. Thank you. I’ve got to straighten things out with him.”

  Another ER nurse popped her head out the door, apparently searching for Elke. Then she found her. “Your brother’s on his way to surgery now. It will be a few hours. Why don’t you go get some coffee or something?”

  Elke nodded. She looked at Lilly. “Come with?”

  “Sure.”

  The only way to the hospital cafeteria was down the long hallway. Lilly and Elke walked past the man on the gurney. “I need to talk to you. You need to hear my story. I know things!”

  She tried to ignore him, but couldn’t. She stopped in her tracks. “About what?”

  “Heartlandia’s all a big lie. I have proof.”

  Was the guy off his psych meds? What the hell was he talking about? But why did it seem to tie in with the recent secret meetings and the “glitch in the town records” they needed to iron out?

  And why was there a startled expression on Elke’s face? “I know that man. He’s been attending extension classes at the college. He’s never been in any trouble or anything that I know of, but we do get our share of kooks at school.”

  Lilly’s hard-earned “better judgment” took over and she ignored the fanatical patient and continued on with Elke for some coffee.

  *

  Two hours later, head slack against the chair in the waiting room, someone tapped Lilly’s shoulder. It was that young ER nurse again. She’d come all the way upstairs to the surgical waiting room. “Roald Lindstrom asked to talk to you rather than call a lawyer. He’s in the ER. Do you want to come?”

  Lilly shook her head to wake up. The man on the gurney with the crazy accusations about Heartlandia? “The guy with the leg wound?”

  The nursed tipped her head. “Said he might not get the chance again. Wanted to talk to you instead of a lawyer.”

  Lilly glanced at Elke sitting quietly and peacefully next to her.

  “Go if you want to,” Elke said. “I’ll text you the instant I get any word.”

  Lilly gave Elke her cell phone number, then grabbing her bottled water, followed the nurse into the elevator and headed for the ER and the crazy alleged arsonist with a story to tell.

  *

  Lilly was officially introduced to Roald Lindstrom while he was under custody with the police, and under the influence of a sedative. He’d calmed down since the last time she’d seen him. His beady blue eyes gave her the willies, so she concentrated on his receding mousy-brown hairline instead.

  Evidently the gunshot had hit the side of his thigh and had been a clean in-and-out wound. The nurse said they’d only used a local anesthetic for the wound care, but had given him something to calm him. Now he was all bandaged up and ready for transport back to jail. They were waiting for an available ambulance, since the fire had kept all units tied up most of the night.

  A police guard sat just outside the ER cubicle, and seeing that Roald was still handcuffed to the gurney, she felt okay going in alone. The guard checked her purse, made her leave the bottled water with him and did a halfhearted frisking before she could enter. When she entered the cubicle, she kept a safe distance from the prisoner.

  “You wanted to talk to me?”

  “You need to kn
ow some things.”

  “About?”

  “Our bogus town history. Heartlandia, my ass.”

  “Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself first?” Lilly wanted to know whether or not this guy was totally nuts or if he might actually have some insight into what was going on at city hall. From the looks of him, she suspected it would be somewhere in between.

  “I’ve lived here all my life. My people go back to the beginning.”

  “I mean, what do you do? What is your job?”

  “I’m currently unemployed. Used to work at the fishery, but they closed up a couple years back, so I took early retirement.”

  This was a guy with a grudge. She wondered if he was out to sue the city, or was money even what he was after? Then why burn down a building and go to jail? Nothing made sense with this one.

  “I heard you’re attending classes at the college,” she said.

  “Yeah. I’m an adult student in the genealogy extension course. That’s how I discovered all the right places to look for information.” He quirked one shaggy, gray-tinged brow. “Did you know the Maritime Museum was the original immigration holding area for the state?”

  She shook her head wondering what that had to do with him burning down the building, and while talking to her, would he also implicate himself in the microbrewery fire? This guy needed representation not a newspaper reporter. “Are you sure you don’t want a lawyer?”

  “I want you to tell this story. You need to write it. Everyone thinks Heartlandia is the perfect little town, well, it’s all a lie. One of my distant relatives got shanghaied from a bar that used to be where the microbrewery was.”

  Oh, gosh, the guy was as good as confessing he’d pulled that job, too.

  Roald kept his voice down, so the guard would have to strain his ears to hear the story. Did she want to be in the middle or have information like this on her shoulders while protecting the confidentiality of her source? And wouldn’t everyone know who it was, since they were in a public place, and the guy was arrested? He really should have called a lawyer.