Dig Deeper: A Hallie James Mystery (The Hallie James Mysteries Book 1)

by DK Herman

  "A hot bath would feel great right now,” I admitted.

  "Call my cell, if you need me." Ben smiled and walked out the door. "See you in the morning,” he called from the hall.

  I locked my bedroom door for the first time and checked the doors to the balcony. With them secure, I looked out at the woods. I could see nothing but darkness in the trees. With a sigh of relief, I pulled the heavy drapes closed.

  In my bathroom, I filled my monster tub and stripped out of my clothes. My left hip was already beginning to bruise, but there weren't any marks on my neck. I got a couple acetaminophen tablets out of my medicine chest, and washed them down with water from the bathroom sink. Climbing carefully, into the huge tub, I sighed gratefully. I just wanted to relax and soak for a while. But my mind wouldn't let me.

  I was uneasy about today's revelations concerning Hank. What Ben said, about Hank was true. It seemed like Hank had a problem with anger. Maybe, I didn't know him as well as I thought I did? Could he have hidden a terrible temper from me? Also, a sometimes-sad fact of life is that people change and not always for the better. Perhaps I'd better slow things down, between us. I wasn't up to another big hurt from a man.

  It had been horrible to be caught defenseless in the dark, tonight. Why had the killer been watching this house so closely? It was like the fates were proving Hanks point, that I wasn't capable of handling myself. Or... I brushed away another thought. Hank wouldn't hurt me. My imagination was running away with me. No wonder after being terrified by that knife at my throat. Probably the same knife that killed those three young girls.

  I slid down in the tub until my head was covered with the warm water. I laid on the bottom of the tub, holding my breath for as long as I could. Then surfacing, I reached for a towel.

  After dressing in pajamas, I climbed into bed, making sure my phone, a flashlight, and my gun were on the nightstand. Snuggling under the covers, I couldn't help myself from thinking about passionate kisses from Hank. He hadn’t rescheduled our date, but I would see him tomorrow night at the bar.

  I woke the next morning with a sore hip. My head however, didn't feel bad, and the lump was almost gone. I got out of bed gingerly and headed for the shower. I took a little time with my hair and makeup before putting on a dressy, pale peach top and jeans. My diamond studs were still in my ears. So, I added a small, silver, heart necklace and my watch on my wrist. I put my Glock into an inside pant holster, and grabbed my cell. I was ready to hunt for coffee.

  Princess and Buddy met me at the bottom of the stairs. They followed me into the kitchen, whimpering hungrily. I tossed them each a sausage from a plate before filling a coffee cup.

  "I'll feed them,” Liv said, shooing the dogs outside. She returned to the kitchen in time to catch me munching on a sausage. "I'll fix you a plate,” she scolded.

  I licked grease from my fingers. “Thanks Liv." I topped up my coffee and with my breakfast, I made my way to the sunroom. Ben and Gram were sitting at the table, eating while sharing the local newspaper.

  They both greeted me warmly, but Ben looked me over as if trying to find damage from last night. I was about to sit down when I noticed Rupert sitting on Ben's lap. "How did you, do that?" I asked.

  "He likes me. I wish I had a dog,” Ben said. He scratched Rupert's scruffy head. "We only have a cat at home, an old calico named Muffin. She slept with my sister since Cara was five years old."

  The dogs mean little eyes were barely visible above the table. He reminded me of a crocodile again, lying in wait for prey. I looked down at my feet to make sure my toes were covered. Yep, I wore brown, leather, flats. I stuck my tongue out at Rupert and he growled menacingly. I found a seat as far away as I could before diving into my breakfast.

  "What time are we picking up George?" I asked, keeping an eye on Rupert. The little shithead was quick.

  "I haven't heard anything from him this morning,” Gram replied. "I'm going to call after breakfast."

  I ate most of my breakfast of sausages, eggs, and toast before Gram's cell rang. I could tell it was George from Gram's broad smile. After listening for a minute, her smile faded and she handed the phone to me.

  "Please, talk to him, Hallie. Something's very wrong." Gram bit her lip.

  "Hello,” I said into the phone.

  "Hallie, I need your help!" George exclaimed. "They don't believe me at the hospital!"

  "Sure George. Just tell me what's wrong." I drained my coffee cup.

  "Somebody tried to kill me last night!" His voice was thick with fear.

  "I'll be right there. Hang on,” I said. I hung up and handed Gram her phone. "I'm going to the hospital to talk to George. Anyone going along?" I didn't want to panic Gram, but I had every reason to believe George.

  "Give me five minutes, dear," Gram said. She rose from her chair and hurried upstairs.

  "I'll drive, if you tell me what's going on with George." Ben said. He opened the door to the patio and put Rupert outside.

  I looked behind me for Gram before I answered. "He said, somebody tried to kill him last night."

  "I'll go get my keys," Ben said. He gulped the rest of his coffee and bolted up the stairs.

  It was a quick drive to the hospital. Ben dropped us off at the main entrance before finding a parking space in the lot. We got to George’s room, and Gram ran in the door.

  "I'm alright, Susie." George hugged Gram. "I just can't stay here another night. I'm not safe."

  "Tell me what happened, George," I said calmly, trying to keep things relaxed. Sitting in one of the chairs meant for visitors, I patted the one next to me. "Come and sit down, Gram." I reached into my purse and turned on my voice recorder.

  After she settled into the chair, George took Grams hand and kissed her palm. "Last night, the nurse gave me a pill for pain. Well, it made me tired, and I fell asleep with the TV on. At first, I thought I was dreaming when I couldn't breathe. Until I put my hands up and found a pillow over my face."

  "Oh no!" Gram cried. She looked around in a panic.

  "He's OK now Gram, and I need to hear more." I looked at George. "How did you get them to stop?"

  "Well, I couldn't push hard enough to get the dang pillow off my face. He's a strong son of a gun."

  I stifled a smile, realizing George wouldn't swear in front of Gram, even while describing his attempted murder. "OK, then what?"

  "Well, I was badly in need of some air, so I turned my head sideways, away from the pillow. I got a little air into my lungs and hollered like a banshee. Next thing I know, the pillow comes off my face really easy, and it’s dark in the room." His hands shook as he demonstrated pulling a pillow off his face. "A nurse comes in while I'm still trying to catch my breath, and she blamed it on a bad dream! Can you imagine."

  "I'll take care of it,” I assured him. Ben knocked on the door and waited for a reply before entering.

  I answered the door with a smile. "Can you stay here with them?" I asked. "I have to speak to whoever is in charge."

  "Sure. What happened?" Ben looked curious.

  "George, tell Ben what happened," I said and walked out the door.

  At the nurse’s station, I found George's doctor that had spoken to us yesterday. After reminding him who I was, I pulled him aside for a chat. I could tell he'd heard about the problem with George.

  "Are you still releasing Mr. Murphy today?" I inquired calmly. Dr. Robert Molten was embroidered on his white coat.

  "No, I’d like to keep him another night. I heard about the incident last night, and I'm concerned about the extreme shortness of breath that the nurse witnessed as George awakened. It could be a sign of a serious medical condition called Sleep Apnea."

  "You don't believe that someone tried to kill him?" I tried to civil, but I was in professional bitch mode again.

  "I hope not, but I don't know. Staff didn't see anyone who didn't belong in the hospital. That's why his nurse suggested that he was dreaming."

  "She wasn't aware that someone shot George?" E
ven though the shifts had changed, I couldn't help a glare at the nurse’s desk. "He didn't dream the bullet you dug out of him."

  "I'd like to keep him here for one more night. Not because I don't believe him, but because sleep apnea means that he stops breathing in his sleep. He could die." He stopped to look at his watch. "I'd like to order a nocturnal polysomnography. It’s a test to determine if he has sleep apnea. If the test is abnormal, I may prescribe more tests with an ENT specialist, a cardiologist, and a neurologist."

  "Will he be safe while getting this test, or can I guard him overnight?” I frowned. I wasn’t crazy about staying up all night. But I'd heard of sleep apnea. He needed to be tested if it was a possibility.

  "No need for you to guard him." The doctor assured me. "The test will be done upstairs, in our Sleep Lab. Mr. Murphy will be attached to many wires on his body and head. There’s a video camera in the room with several nurses watching." He put a hand on my shoulder. "I'll personally, instruct the staff that he’s not to be left alone and there is danger of harm from an unknown person. I will even alert security to that possibility, right now."

  "Wonderful! Thank you so much.” Letting my bitch face melt away, I added. "Can you explain this to George. He's very upset about danger to him being taken lightly, by hospital staff."

  "Sure. Let's go talk to him."

  After Dr. Molten called and spoke to security, he accompanied me to George's room.

  Gram and George were both concerned about the sleep apnea possibility.

  "What do you think, Hallie?" George asked.

  "You need to know if you have sleep apnea," I said. "And your doctor assured me, you would be under observation in the sleep lab all night."

  Gram was nodding her head. "Do it, George."

  "No reason not to, I guess,” George said.

  "Someone from security will be watching this door all day until you are taken upstairs this evening." The doctor peeked at George's shoulder wound. "I'll stop by later."

  "Thank you, doctor." We all chorused.

  After an hour, Ben and I were getting restless. Gram noticed and sent us on our way, but she wanted to stay with George until supper. I checked in the hallway and was satisfied by the capable looking security guard, posted outside the door. The guard nodded to me as we left.

  Getting off the elevator, we ran into Andy Ross. He was in uniform and looked excited.

  "What's up?" I asked. Andy was like his cousin, Gabi. Despite good intentions, neither could keep a secret.

  Andy gestured with a nod toward a less crowded part of the hospital lobby. "We identified the girl in ICU!"

  "That's great!" Her family was probably very worried about her.

  "Don't say anything to anybody,” he said. "The chief doesn't want it getting out yet, but she's a local girl."

  "From Herville?" Our killer must have gotten tired of hunting online, or he was too impatient to lure a girl here from elsewhere.

  "She’s Amy Klein, sixteen years old. Her parents, Diane and Jim, split up two years ago,” Andy said.

  "Oh, my God!" I exclaimed, placing faces with the names. "They graduated with you." And they were both blondes.

  "Yep." He nodded. "Diane remarried last year, but they shared custody of Amy."

  "Is she able to communicate yet?"

  "She’s still unconscious, but the doctors are optimistic," Andy said.

  "When she wakes up, will you let me know?" I gave him a pleading look.

  "Yeah, you being interested in her might be understandable since you’re the one who found her. Just keep that low profile."

  "Where did he find Amy?" I asked. I checked on Ben, who was waiting patiently nearby.

  "She got her hair done at Gabi's, Saturday afternoon." Andy leaned closer, speaking in hushed tones. "She told Gabi, she was stopping at the library before walking home."

  "And never arrived home,” I finished for him.

  Andy nodded. "But, she was at the library until two, using the computers. Her mom told us, her printer is broken at home. We got people canvassing in and around the library." He shifted his feet. "Gotta go. Take care.

  "You too, Andy. Thanks." The girl named Amy was going to be OK! That made my day.

  "You look happy," Ben said, as we walked out of the hospital.

  "The girl I found the other night, she's going to live." I said. I was keeping my promise to Andy about the rest for now.

  "That's great," Ben said quietly.

  His tight expression told me he was thinking about his sister, so I changed the subject. "Let's go back to the house, and see if he left anything behind last night." I looked at my watch. It was eleven thirty.

  The sky was nice and clear, the sun shining brightly to assist us in our search. Starting where my assailant had attacked me, I searched every inch of ground carefully. It was unpaved on that side of the garage, but the hard ground showed no footprints. There wasn't even any sign of where I’d fallen and laid on the ground.

  He had come up behind me, so Ben and I scoured an area near the far side of the garage. Spotting something, I got on my hands and knees to crawl under the forsythia bushes. Pulling out a small rectangle of cardboard, I realized it was a pack of matches from Hank's. I put it in my pocket and kept looking for clues.

  After an hour of searching, I decided to give up. My stomach was telling me it was lunch time. “Let's go out for pizza," I suggested.

  "I could eat,” Ben said.

  We climbed into Ben’s truck, because he liked to drive, and his pickup was better on gas than Chitty. At the stop sign, we waited on a line of traffic before pulling out into the highway. There was a small parade of cars heading north. I noticed the first four cars leading the pack were police vehicles. They traveled quickly with flashing lights but no sirens.

  "Follow them," I said. "Something is going on." I had a hincky feeling, it had to do with the murders.

  Ben pulled onto the highway behind the last car in the line. It was another patrol car, and Andy Ross was driving it. Less than a mile later, they all pulled off the highway and into Hanks lot. I had Ben pull his truck onto the shoulder of the highway, close enough that we could see what was happening.

  I spotted Andy and five other cops combing the lot. Hank came out of his house and spoke to Chief Woods. Hank threw his hands into the air and leaned against the front door of the bar. The cops continued to search. After a while they began rooting through the mulched flower beds, planted around the front and sides of the bar. Suddenly, an older officer cried out. A younger cop hurried to his side with a plastic bag. Carefully, they put the first officer’s find into the bag. Holding it up for the others to see, it was obviously a cell phone. The first cop carried it to Chief Woods.

  Andy, visibly agitated, ran a hand over his face. He shook his head at his brother and walked back to his patrol car. Hank went inside the bar. Chief Woods and the rest of the cops followed Hank.

  I got out of the truck and approached Andy. He was leaning on the car with his legs crossed at the ankles. He took a pack of cigarettes out of a pocket and lit one before noticing me walking his way. He gave me a grim smile and took a deep drag.

  "What's going on?" I asked. "That looked like a cell phone, you guys found in the hydrangeas."

  "It's Amy Klein's cell phone,” Andy answered. "Her parents found out it was still on. So, they got the cellular carrier to give us the GPS coordinates. "

  "I can’t believe it was here.”

  "I don't believe any of this mess.” Andy exhaled a cloud of smoke. "At first, I thought we’d caught a break, but the phone being here at Hank’s scares me a little.”

  "Hank told me that he was a suspect in Heather's disappearance." I took note of Andy's surprised expression.

  "I can't believe that he talked about it." Andy sighed. "I'm afraid this might bring back bad memories for him. Detective Kasey was the primary for the state police on Heather's disappearance. He put Hank and my family through hell."

  "Do you think he'
s going to do that again?" I wrinkled my nose. I had immediately disliked Detective Kasey. He was arrogant and he not nearly as clever as he thought himself to be.

  "Maybe." Andy shrugged. "But this isn't enough to haul Hank in or anything. The phone wasn't hidden and it was in a public area. I think if Hank was guilty of anything, he'd be smart enough not to leave evidence laying around, right outside his bar."

  I nodded in agreement. "Anything I can do to help?"

  "Find the real killer, quick." Andy snorted and looked at what was left of his cigarette before taking a last drag. "And, would you leave here, right now. I'll keep you posted if anything happens."

  "Is Detective Kasey on his way?" I wasn't in the mood to deal with that dickhead.

  "Yep, he’ll be here any minute." Andy threw down his cigarette and stepped on it.

  "I'm outta here." I headed back to Ben's truck.

  Ben and I went back into town for our pizza. Gina's Pizzeria was just winding down from its lunch rush. Gina's had the best Italian food in town. The restaurant hadn't changed at all since the days when Doc, Gabi, and I came here as teenagers. The red checked tablecloths still matched the peeling wallpaper, and the same scuffed linoleum showed years of foot traffic. The dark wood beams, trim, and booths glowed with polish and age. A candle burned in a wine bottle on every table.

  We grabbed a booth toward the back. My mouth watered from the smells of marina sauce, dough, cheese and spices coming from the kitchen. We ordered colas and a large pie with onions, mushrooms, and Canadian bacon. For a few minutes Ben and I just sat back and relaxed. I acknowledged a few greetings from people that I knew. There were several curious glances in Ben's direction.

  "So, what was up with the cops?" Ben asked.

  "They found something belonging to a victim outside the bar,” I said quietly.

  "It looked like a cell phone. Was it Cara's?" Ben asked.

  I shook my head. I was sure Ben wouldn't blab anything I told him. But there was at least fifteen other people in Gina's, finishing their meal. I motioned for him to lean closer over the table.

  "It belonged to the girl in the hospital,” I half-whispered.

  "Who is she?" Ben murmured.