“We’ve given him medication for pain and the resulting nausea,” an attendant told her, “and we’re getting ready to x-ray his shoulder.” At her blank look the man said, “Demerol and Phenergan.”
He waited. She said nothing.
“X-ray to see what’s wrong, though we think he’s dislocated his shoulder. Do you understand?”
“Oh.” Her head buzzed and she swayed. All my fault was throbbing around and around inside her head like some stuck recording.
The man took her arm, looked into her face; then his eyes worked down, all the way to the still-wet shoes. Maybe he was looking at her that funny way because of how she was dressed—the dirt, the clown-like get-up—though they were probably used to seeing peculiar clothing combinations here. Surely he wasn’t holding her arm because he knew what was going on inside her head.
“We want to check you too. Why don’t you sit down right here? Someone will be with you soon.”
“No, no, I don’t need anything, I’m fine, it’s just that...” She shoved his hand away, and as soon as she had, almost stamped her foot, thinking she’d been shoving people away all night. She wished she could take back her reaction to his touch. He was only being kind.
And oh, if she could take back that other reaction, the jerking away from Henry, if she could erase it out of existence. If...
Officer Talbot was beside her again, and a nurse directed them to a counter at one end of the room. Carrie found cards in Henry’s wallet that seemed to satisfy the woman behind the counter, who didn’t look up as she asked, “Wife? Name?”
Carrie could manage nothing but a blank stare. Wife? Where?
After a long silence Gwen’s head came close and she whispered, “She’s asking if you’re married to him.”
“Oh! Oh, no,” Carrie said, speaking loudly, too loudly she realized, because several heads turned toward her. “Um, not married, good friends.” Now she was whispering as softly as Gwen had a moment earlier, and the attendant leaned forward to hear her, still typing on computer keys.
After handing Henry’s cards back, the woman explained that he was undergoing something that sounded like “reduction of dislocation” and pointed to a door down the hall. It seemed that Carrie, with Officer Gwen shadowing her, was free to find Henry.
And free to wish she hadn’t.
When Gwen opened the door and they went in the room indicated, two large men were attending Henry, their actions other-world bizarre. The treatment, if that’s what they called it, was nothing like any hospital activity Carrie had ever seen or imagined. She wished she had some place to sit down as the process unfolded and her legs felt increasingly spongy.
First they tied a rope-like rolled sheet around one man’s waist, a nurse, Gwen said, and the other end of the same sheet was tied to Henry’s waist. The male nurse held tightly to Henry as another nurse helped the second man—“Doctor Abrams, good man,” Gwen whispered—wrap a second rolled sheet around Henry’s left forearm. That arm was raised at a right angle to his body, and Henry grunted while the second sheet was tied to the doctor’s waist.
What on earth were they doing? It looked like a bizarre kind of torture. Carrie wanted to shut her eyes but forced herself to keep them open. God, give Henry the strength to get through this, give me the strength to keep from falling on the floor or screaming.
There was a count-down, “One, two, three,” a fierce pull from the man holding Henry’s arm while the nurse held Henry’s body. Carrie heard a click and a cry of pain from Henry. She discovered she was holding her hand tightly over her mouth, and that suppressed the yelp that wanted to surge out. Had they broken a bone, had something gone horribly wrong?
But the sheets were being untied, the two big men, nurse and doctor, seemed satisfied by what had happened. Now Carrie did close her eyes.
Gwen slipped her arm around Carrie’s waist, steadying her. “They’ll do another x-ray now,” she whispered, “to be sure everything went back together okay. Then they’ll secure the arm and shoulder and probably let you take him back to the hotel. Don’t worry about finding the way. I can drive you while another officer follows in the police car.”
Carrie blinked her eyes open. She and Gwen and a female nurse tidying up were the only ones left in the room.
“That’s it?” asked Carrie.
“That’s it,” said Gwen. “Now, while we wait, let’s go sit down and talk. Are you ready to answer a few questions?”
Carrie shrugged and said, “Why not, since I would like to sit down.” She didn’t mind speaking her feelings aloud to this woman, and she had to wait for Henry anyway.
“We could talk in the morning.”
“No, no. I want to think about something else besides this.” She swept her arm around the room. ”Wouldn’t you if you were me?”
“Yep,” said Gwen, “I sure would. So, shall we visit the Ladies’ and then go back to the waiting room and have a chat?”
There was another uniformed police officer in the waiting room when they got there, but he stayed where he was as Carrie and Gwen took seats in a relatively quiet corner. Then two men in suits got up from chairs against the wall and came over. They each pulled up a chair, giving Carrie names and titles she barely grasped, other than comprehending one was a Hot Springs Police detective and the other an agent from the FBI office in Little Rock. She didn’t catch which was which. After the few words of explanation neither man said anything more. One took notes, the other just watched and listened. Gwen and Carrie did all the talking.
“Since you and I have already been getting to know each other,” Gwen said, “I’m the one chosen to ask about what happened to you this afternoon and tonight. I thought you’d be more comfortable with that. Most of what you’ll tell me did take place in property that’s under the jurisdiction of the National Park Service and the FBI, as we’ve discussed, but Agent Denby will be their ears here. If he has any questions about something I don’t cover, he’ll break in. Okay?”
“‘Kay,” said Carrie, who was beginning to relax and, as a result, felt sleepy.
“First, could you describe what happened from the time Everett Bogardus took you away from the tour group until you went through the trap door in the Fordyce?”
Carrie described it all, her voice droning on and on in her ears as she forced herself to think back, and to tell Gwen about it.
“Then he opened the trap door. I was so scared, things got blurry. I...I don’t remember anything more until I woke up lying in mud.”
“And the knife?” Gwen asked. “Where was it?”
When Carrie frowned and didn’t answer, Gwen said, “Before you went through the trap door, did you struggle with Everett Bogardus? Did you attempt to get the knife away from him?”
Carrie worked on finding a clear memory of that terrible moment. She answered slowly, pushing through horror to try to re-create what had happened.
“I was crying. I think I screamed when he shoved me over the edge. I remember trying to grab his hand, the one with the knife. I wanted to get the blade away from me. I did touch the blade, here,” she held her hand out to show a thin slice across two fingers and noticed that the marks were already very faint. “After that, I don’t remember a thing until I woke up in the mud.”
Chapter XVI
Henry
His shoulder hurt like fury, but throbbing pain no longer wiped out everything in his head. Still, he wasn’t sure he was thinking clearly enough to consider problems like murder and what to do about Carrie.
They’d given him pain killers, probably other stuff too, and how would he know if his head was working sensibly? He’d been in enough emergency rooms during his many years with the Kansas City Police Department to know that sometimes, even when you thought your head was working well, it wasn’t. Kind of like being drunk, something else he’d known a lot about, once upon a time.
One picture in his mind was way too clear. Through all the ordeal at the hospital he hadn’t been able to erase the image
of Carrie kneeling beside him on the creek bank—wet, scared, looking like a pitiful puppy someone had tried to drown. Drugs or no drugs, he could still see the image very clearly and understand that he had caused it.
His fault. He’d planned for her to lie, pretend she was incapacitated when she wasn’t. Why? Some of his reasons were noble, but not all of them. Sure, Carrie deserved time to clean up, get a bite to eat, rest. They both did. But he had to admit he’d wanted to hear the full story of her abduction before the FBI messed with her head—something they could do without any planning before the fact, or regret after. Maybe they wouldn’t do it intentionally, but even with the most benign motivation, they would do it.
There would be nuances in the questioner’s expression, voice tone, the way questions were worded, and in reactions to answers. Even the most stoic trained law officer couldn’t help transmitting something. The first questioning period in a criminal case often changed the perceptions of the person being questioned, provided they were alert enough to notice.
Carrie would certainly notice.
Plain and simple. He’d wanted to debrief her before anyone else did. Then, together, he and Carrie could plan what to say, telling the truth of course, but maybe an organized truth.
And look what had happened! She said no, he didn’t pay any attention and tried to pick her up as if she couldn’t make it on her own. When she resisted, he’d ended up dumping himself on the rocks.
Served him right.
Carrie knew very well that he was a stickler for telling the truth. He had been all during his career in law-enforcement, even when a slight alteration in the truth might have helped bring justice. So, when he wanted her to pretend she was too weak to talk with anyone, he’d probably confused her, maybe even made her angry at him. More than once in the past he’d chided her about telling “helpful fibs,” said they were nothing but lies, no matter what she called them. Now he’d been the one urging her to join him in creating a lie.
He grunted without realizing he’d done it as Dr. Abrams continued the job of securing his arm to his body. The doctor murmured soothingly, “Just another minute and you’re on your way.”
Blast! He was going to have to face her now. Would he be able to tell if she was angry? Who knew?
They insisted on putting a loose hospital shirt around him because his own shirt wouldn’t fit over the bound arm. They also insisted on the wheel chair, so he sat, listened to a long list of instructions and “don’ts,” stuck the bottles of pills a nurse handed him in his shirt pocket, and rode off to face Carrie. At least the hospital corridor was long. That gave him a chance to think about what he was going to do and say when he saw her.
By the time they got to the waiting room, he’d worked out a plan.
Uh-oh. She was sitting with the uniformed police officer he’d been dimly aware of before and...two suits.
Henry’s appearance broke up whatever discussion had been going on between Carrie and her companions. He wished he knew what she’d told them and how the police and FBI were viewing the murder of Everett Bogardus.
Everyone stood when the nurse wheeled Henry into their circle.
The uniformed officer spoke first. “Hello, Mr. King, glad to see they put you back together again. I’m Officer Gwen Talbot of the Hot Springs Police Department.” She waved an arm toward the two men. “This is Agent Kaylor Denby from the Little Rock office of the FBI and Detective Hunt Wilkinson with our department. While we waited for you, we were asking Carrie...Ms. McCrite...to tell us about the unfortunate events of this afternoon and evening.”
She smiled at him. “If you’re ready to check out, I’ll drive you and Carrie back to the hotel in your car. My partner”—another sweep of her arm, indicating a uniformed officer who seemed to be dozing in a chair near the emergency entrance—“will drive the police car and follow us.”
Henry nodded at each person in turn as introductions were made, then looked at Carrie. She’d combed her hair and her face was cleaner, but his heart twisted uncomfortably as he saw that she still had the pitiful puppy look in her eyes.
Watching her face carefully, he said, “Carrie, could you find a phone and call Jason and Eleanor? I know they’ll be asleep, but under the circumstances, I think we need their help, and we need it before morning. I’d like Jason to come stay with me in our room. He knows about this kind of thing.” He waved his right arm toward the bulge under the hospital shirt. “He dislocated his own shoulder a few years back when he was painting their house and fell off a ladder.” Henry didn’t give his other reason. And besides, he’s a man.
“It would be good for me to have him close enough to help for a day or two. The doctor said I could take this binding off after twenty-four hours, but until then things will be awkward, and I’m not used to operating with one arm. Could you stay with Eleanor until I’m not quite so helpless?”
She started to open her mouth, stopped, swallowed, looked at him, nodded, and left to make the phone call.
He wanted to rush after her and, even in front of all these people, yank her into his arms...arm, hold her. He wanted to assure her that this was just a temporary rough patch and everything would soon be all right. The very fact she was making no protest about changing rooms and letting Jason take her place told him worlds. She didn’t like it, he knew her well enough to read that in her carefully expressionless face, but she’d complied without a word.
Where was his feisty Carrie?
Henry straightened in the chair, winced, and heard a murmur of sympathy from Officer Talbot. He turned his head away to avoid looking at her or the other people crowded around him.
Maybe it was just as well that he couldn’t manage to hug Carrie. He couldn’t manage to tell her everything would soon be all right either.
Chapter XVII
Carrie
Eleanor’s “hello” sounded way too perky. How could she manage it, this time of night? Carrie’s phone response under the same circumstances would have been a grunt. Suddenly Carrie was angry at her friend, even as she realized how stupid and unfair that flash of anger was. But Eleanor was safe in bed at the hotel, whereas Carrie...
“Hello? Hello? Who’s calling?”
“Oh, Eleanor, I am sorry to wake you, but Henry and I are in a bit of a pickle and, uh...”
“Carrie, for goodness sake, where did you and Henry get to? There are rumors going around—have you heard anything about what happened to Everett Bogardus? We know something happened, he’s missing, along with you two of course, and there have been police here at the Downtowner, not to mention the Fordyce. Greta would only say there had been a bit of trouble and it wouldn’t affect our activities, we weren’t to worry. Not worry? Well, I guess you can tell it didn’t exactly keep us awake, but still...oh, sorry, Carrie, I’m chattering. Where did you say you were? Are you okay? Is Henry with you? What do you need? We can dress in ten minutes and be there.”
“Whoa, Eleanor, we’re at the hospital here in Hot Springs...”
“Hospital?”
“...where Henry’s just had a dislocated shoulder, uh, fixed. We’ll tell you about it later. Now we’re on our way back to the hotel and because of, of, his shoulder, you know, Henry wondered if Jason could move in with him in our room and I, well, would you mind if...you see, he needs extra help and...”
“Dislocated shoulder, how on earth? Well, bless your hearts. And of course that’s the sensible thing to do, change partners, so to speak. Oh, wait a minute, Carrie.
“Yes, Jason, that’s what I said, change partners, but it’s Henry, not Carrie, who has the dislocated shoulder. He’s going to need you. Well, just a minute, dear, I am finding out more.
“Carrie, I was telling Jason about it. He had a dislocated shoulder a few years back, you know, and Henry will need help, as I remember all too well. Jason was cranky as...oh, sorry, there I go again. Is it right or left?”
“Left shoulder, I...”
“Left shoulder, well, good for that at least, but st
ill, unzipping pants and all the other, and you’re not even married and, well, of course Jason will switch with you. That’s only proper. Yes, he’s nodding his head right now. I remember how awkward everything was when he...it was the left one too, but still...”
“I...”
“So, Carrie, listen to me. I think the sensible thing to do is for me to go get your room key and begin changing things around right away so Henry, and you too, can go to bed as soon as you get here. Call the hotel desk now and authorize them to give me a copy of your key. Then I’ll call down there in a few minutes to be sure everything is okay. How soon will you be back here?”
“I haven’t a clue where we are in this city in relation to the hotel, so I don’t know a time, but we’re ready to leave the hospital and it shouldn’t take long; we’ll have a police escort.”
“Oh, my goodness. Police there too? Why? Well, never mind. How about something to eat? I think hot soup helps any bad situation. I always bring some of those packages of soup to mix in hot water, and tea and crackers and other things. I have bananas too. We use the coffee pot in the room to heat the water.”
“Oh, Eleanor,” Carrie was close to tears again, “I’d love some soup. I don’t know about Henry, what with all the medication and other stuff he’s been through. I don’t know how he feels about food right now.”
“Then we’ll just ask him when you get here, won’t we? Now hang up and call the hotel about your key. Do you have the number? No, of course you don’t. Let’s see, here it is, got a pencil and paper?”
There was a pause, and then Eleanor was reading numbers into the phone. “See you in a bit, and Carrie, quit that sputtering. Don’t you worry, we’re glad to help. You know Henry will be okay soon. Jason recovered and so will he.”
She hung up.
Carrie sighed. She was going to have to do something
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