by J. L. Wilson
“I’ve got it handled.” Murphy wiped out the glass edges from the window with what looked like a man’s shirt, probably his own since it appeared he was wearing a yellow T-shirt. “Come on, Wendy. Let’s get you out.”
Bell pushed me upward and between him behind and Murphy above, I was dragged out of the window. I couldn’t do much to help them because my right foot hurt to put any weight on it and my ribs were tender. I just bit my lip and did my best.
Murphy helped me slide off the SUV and Juko caught me. He was on the side of the ditch, one leg in the mucky water and the other on the bank. He grabbed me with his left hand and with his right he held on to a rope that was in turn lashed to a road sign above us. I staggered to the bank, out of the water, and flopped down, waving him off. “Go help. Bell might be hurt. Help get him out.”
I propped myself up on my elbows and watched Murphy lean into the SUV, legs dangling over the undercarriage. When I saw Bell’s head emerge from the car, I flopped back on the grass. When I heard the sirens in the distance, I decided it was probably okay to pass out.
I wasn’t out for long. When I opened my eyes, Bell lay on the grass next to me. He was wet up to his arm pits, his once blue shirt brown with mud and his jeans caked with it. When he saw me look at him, he rolled over carefully and put his left arm across my middle. “I was afraid I’d lose you,” he whispered, his breath warm on my face. He leaned his face against mine.
“You’re stuck with me, Bell.” I turned my head and kissed him.
“I saw what happened,” Murphy said, scrambling up the wet, grassy bank to kneel next to us. “We both saw it. That truck jammed you. They rammed you right into the ditch.”
“I got the license plate number,” Juko said. He stood on the road above us, waving his arms. “It was blue. I think it was a Ford.”
“Chevy,” Murphy said. “Don’t move, you guys. The paramedics need to check you out.”
Bell rested his head next to mine on the grass. “Don’t worry. I don’t plan to move.”
The next two hours were an orderly yet confusing jumble of activity. An ambulance arrived neck-and-neck with the police. We were bundled away in the ambulance to the local hospital to be examined by the E.R. doctor on duty. At the end of the exam, I was told I had a bruised rib, strained right ankle, and bruising just about everywhere that I could be bruised. Bell had a gash on his arm that received seven stitches and an equal number of bruises. The seat belts had saved us from a much worse fate.
We were released with admonitions to take it easy for the next few days and to have our own physicians check us out in a week. After that, we were taken to the police department where we separately gave our statements. Mine consisted mostly of “I don’t know.” About halfway through my talk with the police officer, another officer came in with a clean shirt, a new pair of jeans and clean sneakers.
“From Mr. Bell,” he said with a wry smile. “He asked for a phone call and he called the hotel people. They did some shopping for you.”
I thanked him and took the clothing, grateful I wouldn’t have to sit too much longer in my damp and smelly clothing. The officer interviewing me took pity on me and handed me over to a female officer who took me to a women’s locker room. I washed off with the hand towel she gave me and pulled on the clean blouse and jeans. I mentally applauded Bell on his observational acuity. Everything fit just fine.
I resumed my interview with the officer then I was reunited with my purse, which I had left in the car. While I was wrapping up my talk, Aunt Jane called my mobile phone, alerted by the Small Town Hotline that I was in trouble.
I assured her I was fine but probably not be up to receiving company in a couple of hours. She took charge and told me not to worry about the various cousins coming to town. She would corral them and we would all meet for supper that night. “And if you don’t want to come, you stay home,” she said before hanging up. “You’ll see everybody tomorrow anyway. You get your rest and take care of yourself and Tom.”
I breathed a cautious sigh of relief, cautious because it hurt to breathe too deeply. I think I was in shock. Nothing seemed to make sense. Bell said the same thing when I joined him in the lobby of the police station, where he was talking with the two reporters.
“But somebody tried to kill you,” Murphy said when I walked up to them. “That’s crazy. You should have police protection.”
Bell put his arm around me. “The clothes fit. Good.”
“Thanks. You think of everything.”
He kissed me quickly. “I try. I was just telling the guys, just like I told the police, that police protection isn’t necessary in town. You’ll stay with me at the hotel tonight and you’ll be with your friends and family all day tomorrow.”
“Who would do it?” But even as I said it, I knew. Bell’s arm tightened around me, telling me that he knew, too.
“Thanks for your help,” I said to the two reporters. They were both grass-stained and sweaty looking, but they both also had the excited look of kids who had just been given free access to the candy store. “You got a good story, didn’t you?” I said with a smile. “First-hand account about the rescue of Tom Bell and his girlfriend.”
Murphy smiled tentatively. “Does this mean you’ll do an interview with us?”
“Sure. I’m feeling generous. And bruised,” I said pointedly.
“Oh, well, okay. Well maybe after you’ve had a chance to rest,” Billy said. “Later.”
“Sounds good. Thanks. I owe you.” Bell turned to a police officer who approached us from the offices we’d just left. “All set?”
The man nodded. “In the back, like you suggested.”
“I appreciate it. Come on,” Bell said to me. “Let’s get out of here.” He started to follow the officer, taking me with him since his arm was still around me.
“But”—I looked at the front door then back to the two reporters—“where are all the other reporters? A story like this should have them swarming the office.”
“The police don’t like it when reporters swarm,” Bell said. “They kept them outside. I’ll talk to you guys later,” he said to Murphy and Juko.
“We’ll hold you to that.” Murphy laughed and the last I saw of him, he and Billy were heading for the front of the building.
We followed the officer. “Where are we going?” I asked.
“I had the car dealer bring me a new car. It’s in the lot behind the station. If we hurry, we’ll beat the reporters to it. Maybe we can get to the hotel without being bothered.”
We did hurry, but it was close. Bell’s new SUV was in the parking lot. It was a blue Ford Expedition, an even bigger vehicle than before. I had trouble getting up into it, partly because of bruising and partly because it was so damn tall. The police helped us by having several squad cars exit the lot at the same time we did, holding up traffic from most directions. We managed to get to the hotel and park inside without anyone being the wiser. Or so we hoped.
“I’m surprised no one is staking out the hotel,” I said while we climbed wearily up the stairs to his living area.
“The big news is that T.K. Bell was in a car accident then taken to the police station along with the mystery woman in his life. They’re all focused on that.” Bell went into the kitchen. “I need a drink and a bite to eat. How about you?”
I sank onto his couch. “Sounds good. Double whatever it is you’re having.”
He busied himself with liquor bottles and the fridge then came to sit next to me, handing me a tall glass full of dark amber liquid then putting a tray of chips and dip on the table. “Here’s to us,” he said, clinking his glass against mine.
“I’ll drink to that.” I took a long swallow and expensive bourbon slid down my throat with just a hint of ginger ale.
“Does that mean there is an ‘us’?” he asked.
“Hey. I’ve just been in a major car accident. No fair asking me a question like that.” I kept my voice light, but I hope he heard the underlying ser
iousness.
We were both silent for a moment, munching on chips and busy with our own thoughts. It felt so nice to just sit here. The day had been chaos and this was a haven of quiet and peace. I struggled to keep the memory of the accident out of my mind, but every time I tried, I heard the scream of the metal and felt Bell lunge across the SUV, throwing himself on top of me.
“Why didn’t the airbags go off?”
“They’re pretty easy to disconnect,” Bell said. “All you have to do is know where the fuse box is in the car.”
“But when could someone do it? Your car was in my driveway all night.”
“And it sat in the garage at the hotel for a month or more since I drove it last.” Bell swallowed some bourbon. “I don’t have an alarm system at the hotel. I counted on anonymity to keep it private. Maybe I was wrong.”
“But how could someone do it?” I insisted.
“Peter was a great mechanic. He was always tinkering with my car. He could do it.”
I knew next to nothing about cars, so I took Bell’s word for it. “You might have died,” I said quietly. “You shouldn’t have done that. You shouldn’t have unbuckled your seat belt like that. You could have been tossed around so much worse than it was.”
He took a swallow of his drink. “I love you, Wendy. I had to do it. There wasn’t a choice involved. I had to do it. Why did you stay with me when you might have gotten out?”
I turned my head slowly to look at him. For the third time in as many days, I had that sense of enlightenment, that feeling of rightness. “I couldn’t leave you alone. It doesn’t make any sense, but there it is. I’m not sure what’s happening with us, but I think something is.”
He smiled slowly, one of his big grins, not the tight-lipped ones he usually shared. “Does that mean there is an ‘us’?”
I leaned over and kissed him. “Quit asking questions.”
Chapter 13
I savored my drink, the snacks, and the shower we took, washing away all vestiges of the accident. We were both too beat up to do more than soap each other gently under the spray. The spirit may have been willing but the flesh was very weak. I dressed in one of Bell’s clean shirts and we sank onto the bed. I don’t know who dropped into sleep first, me or him, but the nap was fabulous.
At five o’clock I nudged him gently. “I have to change my clothes and go meet the cousins,” I said, wincing when I stood up.
“You don’t like the clothing I selected for you?” Bell asked, hand over his heart in mock pain.
I looked down at the red-and-white checked blouse and blue jeans draped over a chair near the bed. “It’s fine. But I’d like to comb my hair, put on some makeup, and get back into funeral mode.” My voice was sharper than I meant it to be but I was feeling stressed. The car accident was fading into the background and the reality of Mom’s funeral was replacing it. I dressed quickly, using that to avoid looking at him.
“I’m sorry.” Bell got up and enfolded me in his arms. “I wasn’t thinking, I guess. I’ll drive you home and I’ll take you to your aunt’s place when you’re ready.”
“I’ll be fine. I can drive myself.” I shot him a quizzical look. “Unless you’re angling for a dinner invitation. You’re welcome to join us if you like somewhat overcooked chicken and noodles with a side of limp broccoli.”
He laughed. “Sounds delicious, especially since I haven’t had a meal since breakfast with you this morning.” He released me and pulled on clean jeans and a pale blue shirt. “I’d feel better if I stayed with you, at least until my security team gets here.”
“Your security team?” I headed for the door to the living room. “You have your own security people?”
“There’s a group I use. They do security for a lot of software companies. They’ll get here tonight. Until then, I’m sticking close to you.”
“Well, I guess that means you have overcooked chicken in your future.” I had to admit, I felt better knowing he was going to be nearby. The accident spooked me. I had never been the victim of a stalker, but I was beginning to feel like one now.
“I got them a couple of rooms here at the hotel so they’ll be close by. I want you to sit in on the briefing tonight.”
I grabbed my purse from the coffee table and we went to the stairs. “I thought you were sticking to me like white on rice.”
“I am.”
“Then I’ll be at the briefing.” I paused on one step to turn and look up at him. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For taking charge.”
“Some women would bitch about that.”
“Well, some women aren’t me.”
He laughed and dashed ahead of me so I ended up falling into his arms at the bottom of the steps. “No kidding.”
We drove to my house and surprisingly, there were no reporters camped out on the doorstep. “Where are they?” I asked as we scooted inside.
“I had my PR rep call some newspapers and issue a statement.”
I stopped inside the entryway. “You had your PR rep do what? You have a PR rep?”
“It’s a marketing firm I hired to do work for me. Whenever I don’t want to deal directly with the press, they handle it. And don’t forget, Murphy and Jukes got an exclusive story. I’ll bet they’re being interviewed by their peers right now.”
I laughed and walked into the living room, but I came to a stop immediately. “Something’s wrong.”
Bell stopped behind me. “What?”
“I’m not sure but it feels like things are out of place.”
“Close your eyes. Tell me what you should see.”
I started to complain but he just squeezed my arm. I sighed and closed my eyes. “Dining room table there.” I gestured to the right. “Should be cleared off from this morning’s breakfast. The bag of Mom’s stuff is on the chair. I think the note she left me is on the table. Straight ahead is the living room. Athos should be on his couch.”
“The bag’s gone.”
My eyes flew open. He was right. The bag full of Mom’s safety deposit stuff was gone. “Damn. Did I put it someplace else?”
“No, I think you left it right there.” Bell walked into the dining room.
I went into the living room. Athos wasn’t in his accustomed spot. “Where’s the cat?” I felt the first touch of panic. Damn it, I couldn’t lose Mom’s cat. That would be the ultimate capper on a crappy day. “Athos? Where are you? Come on, it’s time for dinner,” I called. “Come on, kitty. I know you’re hungry.” I’m sure the cat could hear the desperation in my voice if he was even still in the house. He was an indoor kitty, unaccustomed to the big wide world. Lord knows what would happen if he got out.
I crossed the front entry hallway and went into the downstairs bedroom, the one that Mom and Dad used. Maybe Athos was in Mom’s bedroom. I froze in the doorway. “Bell!”
He was by my side in a second. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered. “Stay in the living room.”
“Like hell I’ll stay in the living room.” I pushed past him into the mess that was my mother’s bedroom. The mattress was pulled off the bed and lay on the floor, the dresser drawers were pulled out and emptied, clothes yanked out of the closet and tossed about. I picked my way through the mess and peered into the bathroom. It was in similar condition.
I glanced over my shoulder. Bell was in the doorway, talking on his cell phone. I reached into Mom’s closet and lifted the shoe rack. I tapped the code for the gun safe and opened it. Dad’s Smith & Wesson was still inside. I closed the safe and rearranged the shoes, then backed out of the closet.
“Who would do this?” I tiptoed through the debris to Bell, who was talking on his cell phone.
He held up a hand then said, “Okay. I’ll meet you here.” He tucked the phone back into his shirt pocket.
“Was that the police?”
“What? Oh, no. I called Jason. He’ll meet me here. I’m going to drive you to your aunt’s place, Jason will meet me here then we’ll pick y
ou up when dinner is over.”
“But—”
Bell put a hand on my arm and propelled me out of the room. “Let’s go see if your room is like this.”
“What? Oh, crapola.” I dashed upstairs and made a right turn into my bedroom. It had been searched, too, but less roughly than Mom’s room. My suitcase, resting on the trunk at the foot of the bed, was emptied and the drawers on the dresser were pulled out, but most of them were empty anyway. The clothes in the closet were obviously moved around and my small desk in the dormer window nook was in disarray.
“There wasn’t as much to search through here since you don’t live here anymore,” Bell said from behind me. “I’ll check the boys’ room.” He went across the hall and pushed open the other bedroom door. Athos shot out and raced down the stairs in a blur of black and white.
“Well, that explains that,” I said, relieved. “I’m glad he didn’t get out. I had visions of me wandering through the neighborhood with a can of tuna in one hand.”
“He probably ran in here to hide. Looks like this room was searched, too.”
I peeked over his shoulder. My brothers’ room looked like mine—disturbed but not trashed. “It’s been empty for so long. Mom used it for storage, mostly. I suppose that’s why it’s hardly touched. This doesn’t make any sense, Bell. This house has been mostly empty for the last few months because Mom’s been in the hospital. I stayed here when I was visiting her, but I was at the hospital most of the time. I don’t understand any of this.”
“We’ll figure it out.” Bell put a hand on my back and gently pushed me to my room. “Change your clothes, clean your face, do whatever it was you need to do.” He tilted his head to regard me. “You look perfect to me, but I might be prejudiced.” Before I could reply, he followed Athos down the stairs. “I’ll feed the cat,” he called back.
I was too tired to reply. I went into the bathroom at the end of the hallway and regarded myself in the mirror. Thank heavens my bruising was limited to my body, although I looked exhausted, with dark circles under my eyes. And thank heavens I didn’t have to do anything to make my hair look relatively decent. I damped down a few recalcitrant strands, washed my face then dabbed on makeup.