Dead Girl in a Green Dress

by Loucinda McGary

  A very short time later, they reached the clinic and the firefighters unloaded Byrony, gurney and all. Dr. Kelly’s nurse waited with the portable x-ray at the ready. And in spite of them arriving quickly, Sergeant Nick Brandon was also waiting for them.

  "I need to take your statement, Miss Long." The young man’s severe expression didn’t bode well, not that she really cared.

  But Dr. Kelly brushed him aside with a gruff, "Can’t this wait, Nicky? Miss Long is injured and in shock."

  As if from a distance, Byrony watched Sergeant Brandon’s face twist with resentment and barely controlled anger. "No sir, it can’t! I found Mrs. Prince’s body at the bottom of the drop-off below Arch Rock. Her head’s bloody and looks like her neck is broken."

  That piece of news got through to Byrony. "She’s dead?" She managed to gasp, trying to sit up. But the nurse pressed her shoulder down and wiped her face with a cool, damp cloth.

  "Ben Thompson says you and Mrs. Prince fought--"

  "She attacked me!" Byrony interrupted, surprising herself with the sudden burst of strength. "After she tried to kill Tate."

  The Sergeant looked unconvinced. "Did you push her, Miss Long?"

  "I…" At the moment, she honestly couldn’t sort out what had happened, but she shook her head anyway. "I defended myself."

  "Look at these bruises, Sergeant Brandon." The nurse pointed at Byrony’s neck, and the memory of Cristina Prince’s cruel fingers squeezing her windpipe rushed back to Byrony’s consciousness. "Miss Long is telling the truth."

  The young man stared for a moment, then dropped his gaze to his feet and backed away like a pup subdued by the alpha dog.

  "Happy now?" Dr. Kelly challenged as he motioned at the door. "Wait outside while I finish with my patient."

  When the nurse removed the brace from Byrony’s arm, the pain took her breath away. Somehow, she kept from crying out while the doctor took several exposures with the portable x-ray. While Dr. Kelly reviewed the films, the nurse finished the review of Byrony’s vitals and cleaned her up. "I’m going to give you something for the pain, now."

  Byrony squeezed her eyes tightly shut as the nurse poked a needle into her upper arm. As fuzziness started to cloud her mind, Dr. Kelly came in. "Well, young lady, you’ve done quite a bit of damage to your wrist. More than I can deal with in this clinic. I’m sending you to the hospital in Mac City so they can do surgery."

  "Surgery? Mac City?" She repeated, trying hard to focus.

  Dr. Kelly nodded. "That’s right. The same hospital as Mr. Madison."

  "Tate?" She gasped, rubbing the heel of her hand against her eyes to try and clear her blurry vision and thoughts. "I get to see Tate?"

  "Eventually." The doctor opened the door and yelled for Sergeant Brandon. "Find someone to get Miss Long to the Mac City hospital stat!"

  And that was the last thing Byrony remembered until she woke up hours later in the recovery room. A gray-haired nurse in green scrubs stood at the foot of her bed, writing on a clip board. "Hello, Miss Long. Can you tell me where you are?"

  "H—hospital?" Byrony managed to croak through her aching throat.

  Nodding, the nurse handed her a glass with a plastic straw. The water felt cool and soothing as Byrony swallowed. An IV line extended from her right arm, and a white plaster cast covered her left forearm to just below her knuckles. She tried to wiggle her fingers, but they refused to budge.

  "Tate Madison?" she asked, fear churning in her gut. "Is he here? Can I see him?"

  "He’s in ICU." The nurse’s expression softened when she looked into Byrony’s pleading eyes. "As soon as your doctor releases you, I’ll take you to Mr. Madison."

  Tate’s alive and I can see him! A warming surge of happiness raced through Byrony and she craned her neck searching for a glimpse of her doctor, even if she couldn’t remember what he looked like. She was about to ask the nurse when the doctor would be here, just as a man in blue scrubs walked around the corner.

  The nurse handed him the clip board and after a silent moment, he addressed Byrony. "Miss Long, I’m Dr. Rosen. Your surgery went well, but you’ll need to wear the cast for six weeks. See your regular physician when you get back to Chicago about physical therapy." He handed the board back to the nurse. "As soon as this IV is finished, you’re free to go."

  Byrony murmured thanks and waited impatiently for the IV fluid to disappear. The nurse bustled off to tend to another patient and Byrony was left alone to watch the tedious drops. She was ready to scream with frustration before the pouch finally emptied. The nurse removed the IV and stuck a bandage on her elbow. Then she pulled a plastic bag with Byrony’s clothes from under the bed. "I’ll be back in a few minutes," she promised and closed the curtain behind her.

  Struggling to dress herself, Byrony discovered a multitude of scrapes and bruises all over her arms, legs and body. She found her purse and rummaged in it until she located her comb, which she dragged through her tangled hair. Not much of an improvement, she feared, but it would have to do. She threw open the curtain to show the nurse she was ready.

  After a few minutes, the older woman reappeared with a sheaf of papers for Byrony to sign. "Just one more and you’ll be all set."

  While Byrony signed, the nurse tied her shoes. Then after shoving everything into her purse, Byrony followed the other woman to the intensive care unit. While Byrony shifted anxiously from foot to foot and listened to the beeping and whirring of equipment, her helpful nurse conferred quietly with another younger staff member. Byrony’s eager anticipation melted into anxiety.

  A long moment later, the nurse told her, "Mr. Madison is in 303. He’s still unconscious and on a respirator."

  "But I can see him?" Byrony insisted, fighting to prevent her voice from shaking.

  "Five minutes." The older woman guided her to the room directly behind the nurses’ station.

  Even though Byrony tried to steel herself, her knees buckled at the sight of Tate connected to a bunch of machines with a plastic tube down his throat. Luckily, a plastic chair was close enough for her to collapse into it.

  The nurse touched her shoulder. "You all right?"

  Not trusting her voice, Byrony nodded. Tears clouded her vision as she scooted the chair closer to the bed and with shaky fingers, reached for Tate’s hand. His skin felt dry and cool, and his face looked deathly pale under the dark stubble of his beard.

  Sorrow and helplessness rose up inside her with a hot wave of tears that she fought to keep inside. But the weight of her anguish momentarily overwhelmed her, forcing Byrony to lean down until her forehead rested against Tate’s arm. "Please don’t leave me," she whispered, her lips barely moving against the stiff, white sheets. "I need you, Tate. I love you."

  She tightened her grip on his hand but got no response. A sob worked its way out in spite of her best efforts to prevent it. Then, somewhere behind her, she heard a man’s voice demanding, "Where’s Tate Madison? I need to see him. He’s my brother."

  Byrony raised her head as a brunet man barged into the room. Though he was obviously younger and darker than Tate, he was dressed similarly in jeans and a leather jacket, and he carried a motorcycle helmet under one arm. His blue eyes, so like Tate’s, swept the room, and Byrony heard him curse under his breath before his gaze settled on her. "I’m Sloan Madison. Who are you?"

  "I – I’m Byrony Long."

  "Oh, right, Paige’s friend." Sloan’s sharp eyes softened and he extended his hand. Nodding, Byrony tentatively offered her right hand and he shook it vigorously. "I actually met you at Taylor’s christening." Without waiting for her to make a reply, he turned and studied the various pieces of equipment surrounding Tate’s bed. Then frowning, he addressed the nurse. "I need to speak to my brother’s attending. I want him taken off this respirator immediately!"

  Byrony’s helpful friend looked Sloan Madison up and down with a critical eye. "I’ll get the charge nurse."

  As the woman walked away, Sloan came to stand on the opposite side of T
ate’s bed. Biting his lower lip, the younger man ran his finger across his brother’s forearm. "Were you here when they put that thing in?"

  Emphatically shaking her head, Byrony whispered hoarsely, "But if they take him off the respirator, he might die."

  "If you know Tate at all, then you know he wouldn’t want to be hooked to any machine." His words were like an ice pick stabbing into her soul, but even in the midst of her anguish, she knew Sloan was right.

  She could see Tate’s stubbornly determined expression, hear his hint of a drawl saying, "No way, Doc. Get that contraption away from me."

  Her grip on Tate’s hand tightened and she drew in a shaky breath. "You’re right. And you’re his next-of-kin."

  "Paige is on her way. Her husband can’t leave the station house so she had to drop Taylor off with her mother-in-law, but she’s flying up. I know she’ll agree with me."

  Before Byrony could reply, the nurse walked in. "Mr. Madison, I’m Mrs. Hamilton. I’ve paged Dr. Blair and he’ll be here shortly." Then she turned to Byrony. "Miss Long? A Detective Shaffer is looking for you. He’s in the waiting area at the end of the hall."

  Reluctantly, Byrony stood, and after one more lingering look at Tate’s inert form, she followed the nurse out of the room. Her legs wobbled as she walked past the nurse’s station and out the door of the ICU. Halfway down the hall, she stopped at a drinking fountain and let the cool water trickle down her tight throat.

  Detective Shaffer rose from his chair when he saw her approach. "You okay Miss Long?"

  "I’ve been better." She avoided his offered hand and sat in the corner of the empty couch. "I suppose you want to ask me questions."

  "I’ve already talked to Sergeant Brandon and Ben Thompson." He pulled a chair closer to the couch and sat facing her. "Why don’t you just tell me what happened?"

  With a weary sigh, Byrony leaned her head against the back of the couch and spoke to the ceiling. She started with Tate confronting Cristina Prince yesterday at Arch Rock. Then she told Shaffer how she’d found the green dress and the saleslady described the customer who’d bought two of the same dresses, the customer wearing a red wig and a ring exactly like Cristina Prince’s. Her voice faltered when she described arriving at Arch Rock and seeing that witch leaning over an unconscious Tate.

  "Let me get you some water," Shaffer offered, and she nodded, glad for the temporary break.

  While he was gone, Byrony drew her legs up under her and stared out the window, but didn’t really see anything. All she could see was Tate’s lifeless looking body on the ground, then in the ICU surrounded by machines. She couldn’t lose him now. But maybe he was already gone.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by Shaffer who hurried back and handed her a tiny paper cup, hovering over her while she swallowed the single gulp of water. "Can you continue, Miss Long? I really need you to tell me the rest."

  Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself before she spoke, but her voice still wavered a little. "The gun went off. I – I tackled her – Mrs. Prince. She said..." Byrony dug her nails into her palm and continued. "She said she killed my sister and my boyfriend and she was going to kill me. Then she grabbed me by the throat." Without thinking, her fingers rose to the bruises on her neck. "I bashed her in the face with the brace on my wrist. She lost her balance and fell."

  A deadly silence prevailed for a moment before the detective took the paper cup from her hand, crushed it and tossed it at the waste basket against the far wall. "Anything else, Miss Long? Anything at all that you remember?"

  Byrony covered her face with her uninjured hand for a moment before she spoke again. "Ben put Tate in the carriage. He said she – she injected him with something but he was still alive." She stopped and shook her head.

  "Seems Mrs. Prince was a diabetic, so she had access to syringes," Shaffer mused more to himself than her, but Byrony heard him nonetheless.

  Her eyes snapped around to meet his gaze. "That’s how she killed my sister, because my sister and her husband were having an affair. Mr. Prince called and admitted the affair to me earlier today."

  The older man had a look of distaste on his face. "I’ve already sent two deputies to bring Prince in for questioning. Oh, and I think I found your sister’s running shoes. I’m expecting the DNA tests any minute. Plus, we’ll be releasing Justin Saunders –"

  A woman’s voice calling Byrony’s name interrupted the detective. Byrony turned to see a familiar figure hurrying toward them.

  "Paige?" She rose unsteadily as her friend, Tate’s sister, brushed past Shaffer and enveloped her in a tight hug.

  "Oh my God, Byrony," Paige whispered on a half-sob. "Are you okay?"

  Byrony pulled away and looked into her friend’s haunted blue eyes. "I’m all right. Are you?"

  Biting her bottom lip, Paige gave a slight nod, then noticed the detective. She squared her shoulders, and extended her hand, her voice steady and formal. "Paige Madison Kowalski."

  "Detective Jim Shaffer, Mackinaw City Police. Sorry about your brother." He picked up his hat and nodded at Byrony. "Thank you, Miss Long, I’ll check back later. Please excuse me, ladies."

  With Shaffer gone, Byrony collapsed back onto the couch. Paige sat next to her and clutched Byrony’s uninjured hand. "I just got here. Sloan said you were down the hall and told me to come find you. They were taking Tate off the respirator. Sloan will come and get us when they’re done."

  "Paige, I…" Words clogged in Byrony’s throat as her thoughts careened through her mind. "I’m so scared."

  "Me, too." Her friend’s grip tightened painfully. "We almost lost him two years ago in the accident. We can’t – we just can’t…" Paige let go of her hand, pulled a tissue from her purse and blew her nose.

  "Are your parents on their way, too?"

  Paige shook her head and shoved the tissue into her pocket, visibly pulling herself together. "They’re in their motor home somewhere in Denali National Park. We haven’t been able to reach them. Sloan and I are on our own."

  "This is all my fault," Byrony whispered.

  "It most certainly is not!" Paige swatted her knee, a look of outrage on her pretty face. "You can’t control a deranged killer."

  While Byrony couldn’t argue with that fact, she still felt responsible. "Tate came here because I hired him."

  Paige gave her a molifying look. "I was the one who asked him to help you, remember?" She twisted her fingers together nervously. "I was actually hoping the two of you would get together. I’ve thought for ages that you and Tate would make a good match."

  Byrony’s jaw dropped. "You – you were trying to fix us up?" When her friend gave a hesitant nod, Byrony couldn’t suppress a disbelieving snort. "You were so incredibly right."

  "Well, I – " Paige started to protest then stopped short and did a double take. "Did you say right?"

  "I’m afraid so," Byrony admitted with an embarrassed nod. "I’m madly in love with your brother."

  "Really?" Her friend’s voice came out in a high pitched squeak. She coughed and cleared her throat. "Does he… Never mind, Tate’s no fool. Of course, he does." She searched Byrony’s face with a rueful smile. "I don’t know if I should feel happy or sad about it."

  Byrony gave a ragged sigh. "Neither do I."

  Paige’s phone broke the brief silence. "Eric," she murmured after glancing at the screen. She walked out into the hall to talk to her husband, leaving Byrony alone to fidget. Time stretched interminably until she heard the click of Paige’s shoes growing louder.

  "He just picked Taylor up from his mother’s," Paige explained, plopping back down next to Byrony. "He asked if I wanted him to come here, but I told him to wait."

  Byrony opened her mouth to speak but immediately stopped when she heard more footsteps in the hall. Both she and Paige sprang to their feet as Sloan Madison strode up. Stress lines creased his forehead, but his blue eyes held relief. "He’s holding his own."

  While Paige threw her arms around her younger brother, Byro
ny sagged down into the nearest chair and covered her face with her uninjured hand, fighting against the tears burning in her throat.

  "Can we see him?" Paige asked, her voice reflecting the budding hope Byrony felt.

  Sloan nodded and rubbed his hand over his jaw. "You two go ahead. Think I’ll go down to the cafeteria and get a cup of coffee. Can I bring either of you one?"

  "Sure." Paige agreed. "No cream, two sugars. Byrony?"

  "Black, thanks."

  Sloan walked with them as far as the bank of elevators, then she and Paige continued to the ICU.

  A different nurse greeted them. "I’ll let you both stay, but only if you don’t get in the way. And if I tell you ‘out,’ you scat, understand?"

  They both solemnly agreed and edged into Tate’s room. He still had an IV, heart monitor and pulse oximeter, but Byrony thought his face looked a little less pale and pasty. Sitting in the closest chair, she watched his chest slowly rise and fall with uneven breaths. Every long pause before he inhaled rattled her nerves. She looked up at Paige sitting opposite her, and her friend looked equally upset. Instinctively, Byrony knew this would be a very long night.

  About a half-hour later, Sloan backed into the room with Styrofoam cups in each hand. He went to Paige first, and she rose to her feet. "Why don’t you stay awhile? I need to call Eric and update him."

  "Okay." Sloan stepped around the end of Tate’s bed to give Byrony her coffee, then he turned back to his sister. "I tried Mom and Dad again. No luck."

  With a brief nod, Paige left the room. Whichever of the two siblings got through to their parents first, Byrony didn’t envy them. The memory of the anguish in her father’s voice when she’d called and told him about Jessica flashed through Byrony’s mind.

  Was that really less than a month ago? She felt like a lifetime had passed.

  Her thoughts must have shown plainly on her face, for Sloan cleared his throat. "He’s going to make it." He spoke with a fierce determination. "Every breath he takes on his own improves his chances."