Hidden Falls

by Newport, Olivia

  “Either way,” Lauren said, “somebody’s probably worried.”

  And they were going to need a ride. Jack Parker had safely transported Nicole and Lauren to the hospital, but he hadn’t even come inside. He muttered something about an important phone call and left them as soon as Lauren scrounged up a transit wheelchair for Nicole from inside the clinic. Lauren didn’t want to call her aunt, who had a pile of her own problems right now.

  “Ethan would come and get us, wouldn’t he?” Lauren said.

  “Probably.” Nicole rubbed her forehead. “I would have thought they’d offer me something stronger than ibuprofen by now.”

  “Your stomach is too empty for narcotics.” Lauren stood up and took Nicole’s phone from the strap on her arm, surprised Nicole didn’t protest. “Call Ethan.”

  The exam room door opened just then, and the physician’s assistant entered with papers in his hands.

  “Okay, we’ll have you out of here in a jiffy,” he said. “We just need a few John Hancocks. First, I need to know where you plan to go from here.”

  “To my house, I suppose.”

  “Alone?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Do you have a ground floor bedroom and bath?”

  Nicole sighed. “No.”

  “Then I don’t recommend you go home. No stairs.”

  Lauren shifted her bag to the other shoulder. “She can come home with me. There’s an elevator in my building.”

  “I’m not imposing myself on you,” Nicole said. “Thank you, but I’ll manage.”

  “Perhaps I wasn’t clear,” the PA said. “No weight on your foot. None at all. You have to be extremely careful until you see the orthopedist and get a determination about surgery. I want you in a comfortable chair with your foot elevated, icing every three or four hours for the next three days.”

  “She’s coming home with me.” Lauren had a chair in her spare room that would fold out to a twin bed. The apartment was small enough that Nicole wouldn’t have to hobble too far for anything, and since it was right downtown on Main Street, checking in and making sure Nicole had everything she needed would be easy.

  “Good.” The PA checked some boxes on a form. “She shouldn’t be on her own until after she sees the surgeon.”

  “What about medication?”

  “I’ll give you the prescription. She shouldn’t take more painkiller than she needs, but she shouldn’t skimp either.”

  “She is right here,” Nicole said, “and not nearly as unconscious as you might think.”

  “Sorry,” Lauren muttered.

  The PA flipped over a page. “I see you live in St. Louis.”

  “That’s right.” Nicole tried to readjust her position and winced.

  “I’d like you to stay in Hidden Falls for at least a week. I can understand that you may prefer to have surgery in St. Louis, but you’ll need someone to help you get there. And you’ll have to hang up your car keys for a couple of months.”

  A protest formed on Nicole’s lips, but Lauren was relieved she had the good sense not to voice it. “You can stay with me as long as you need to,” she said.

  “I’m not being given much choice, am I?” Nicole reached for the pen the PA held. “What do you want me to sign?”

  “Right here.” He handed her the form. “And here’s your prescription for pain meds. They should hold you till you can see the surgeon.”

  Nicole scribbled her signature.

  “I’ll send someone in to help you get outside and make sure you have your X-rays on a CD.” He looked at Lauren. “You can pull your car around anytime.”

  The door closed behind him. Lauren looked at Nicole. “You have to call Ethan.”

  “I guess.” Nicole looked at her phone. “Four calls and five texts from him.”

  “He’s worried.”

  “Or at least curious.” Nicole scrolled to find Ethan’s number in her list of recent calls and tapped it.

  Lauren looked around the exam room to make sure they wouldn’t leave anything behind. The shoe and sock taken from Nicole’s injured foot were in a plastic bag with the sweatshirt she’d worn tied around her waist. Lauren picked up the bag and her own purse, trying not to eavesdrop on Nicole’s conversation with Ethan.

  Something was going on with the two of them. Lauren slapped down a twinge of envy and decided to look in the hall to see if anyone was coming to help them out. She and Nicole would have to wait for Ethan in the waiting room or on a bench outside the urgent care doors. The clinic would want to free up the exam room.

  She nearly didn’t hear her own cell phone ring. Lauren dug in her bag and extracted the phone between the third and fourth rings. The number was unfamiliar, and Lauren couldn’t immediately place the area code her screen displayed. She didn’t get a lot of phone calls from other cities. She tapped the ANSWER button and raised the phone to her ear.

  “Hello?”

  No response.

  “Hello?”

  She heard only the notes of a faint tune—a music box? A whistle? A flute? Lauren couldn’t be sure. When the sound stopped, she looked again at the screen. The call had disconnected.

  The tightness in her chest was both distant and familiar. She was back in high school, a pleasant student with a few close friends but not remarkable in any way that would launch her into popularity beyond her cafeteria crowd. For most of a school year, she received calls from at least a dozen different numbers but always with the same low, mocking chuckle. When Lauren stopped answering calls, the caller began letting her voice mail catch a few seconds of his amusement. When she began ignoring any number she didn’t immediately recognize, he called repeatedly until she shut off her phone. Then she started leaving her phone at home on purpose and deleting voice mails without looking to see who left them.

  Why she was a target, Lauren never knew.

  Just before graduation she heard the laugh for the last time—at the back of a classroom. She turned and caught his eye. Nevin Morgan. He never called again.

  When Lauren returned to Hidden Falls after college, he’d moved away. She didn’t care where. She was just glad he was gone.

  Until three days ago when she saw him on Main Street and he turned up at Quinn’s banquet.

  2:56 p.m.

  The clinic doors slid open with a squeaky whoosh and Ethan stepped through. “There you are.”

  Nicole looked up at him from six feet over, seated in the same kind of curved vinyl seats he saw in the ER of his own hospital. A monthly twenty-four-hour shift sprinting through emergencies gave Ethan extra income that made paying down his student loans look like an achievable goal. A long-term goal, but a goal at the top of his list—right under being the best neurosurgeon in the country.

  Nicole sat in one chair with her injured foot propped up on another and cushioned with a wadded sweatshirt. She looked tired and frazzled, but her face carried the same determination it always did.

  “Thanks for coming,” she said.

  “Of course.” Ethan looked around. “Where’s Lauren?”

  “At the hospital pharmacy getting my drugs.”

  “I hope they gave you something strong.” Ethan dropped into the chair beside Nicole.

  “If it makes me woozy, I’m not going to take it.”

  Stubborn as ever. “It’s going to hurt for a while, Nicole. Controlling the pain will also keep you comfortable enough to be still and let the break heal.”

  “I don’t need drugs for that.”

  “Maybe I should go talk to the guy who treated you.”

  Nicole put a hand on his arm. “Thanks, but I don’t see the point. It’s broken. I have to wait for the orthopedist’s office to call about scheduling. I’m going to push for tomorrow.”

  “They’ll want to wait a few days,” Ethan said, “for the swelling to go down.”

  “Great.” She snatched her hand back from his arm, and instantly he felt cold rush into the place she had warmed.

  “Every day will
be better.” Ethan said what he told most of his patients in recovery.

  “Not as long as Quinn is missing,” Nicole said. “What are we going to do about that?”

  He had no answer.

  “Are you leaving tonight?” Nicole asked.

  Ethan gave a slow shrug and blew out his breath. Nicole’s injury changed his agenda—again. He would have to call Hansen, but Ethan wasn’t sure how many more favors he had in the bank with Hansen. He avoided Nicole’s question.

  Instead, he said, “Do you know how to use these crutches?”

  “I’ll manage.”

  Ethan swallowed and picked up Nicole’s hand. “It’s okay to accept help while you’re injured.” This was something else he often told patients. “Let people who care for you look after you.”

  Her emerald eyes, fixed wide open, stared into his. He smoothed back the disheveled hair hanging over the side of her face. In the old days, this would have been a moment when he’d lean in and kiss her. The old impulse was still there, but he’d forfeited the right long ago.

  Nicole’s eyes shifted to look over his shoulder. “There’s Lauren.”

  Ethan released Nicole’s hand and stood up. He took the white paper bag from Lauren’s hands. “Let’s see what they gave you.”

  “Thank you for coming,” Lauren said. “They said it’s a narcotic.”

  Ethan read the label on the bottle. “They told you the truth.”

  Lauren handed a package of crackers and a bottle of water to Nicole. “You’re not supposed to take it on an empty stomach.”

  Ethan recognized conflict flickering in Nicole’s eyes as she gritted her teeth against the pain in her ankle and calculated its relief versus the prospect of losing her mental edge.

  “Take it.” Ethan twisted the cap off the bottle, dumped a pill into his palm, and offered it to Nicole. “At least today.”

  Nicole closed a fist over the pill and then tore open the crackers. She chomped down two of them before she swallowed the pill.

  “Eat a couple more,” he urged.

  To his surprise, Nicole complied. “Let’s get out of here.” She reached for the crutches leaning against her chair.

  Ethan grabbed the crutches and held them steady. “Push up through the heel of your good foot.”

  “I know, I know.” Nicole grasped the handles of the crutches and slowly brought herself upright.

  Ethan assessed how well the crutches fit her height. “We should take these down a notch at the bottom.”

  “You can fuss with them later,” Nicole said. “I just want to get out of here.”

  Ethan wanted to put an arm around her waist, but an extra pair of feet at the base of the crutches would only increase her risk of stumbling. He glanced at Lauren. “My car is right outside the door. I’ll go get it ready.”

  He stepped toward the doors and turned his head to watch Nicole’s slow progress. She knew how to handle the crutches—something must have happened during the last ten years to teach her this skill—but she winced at the pain of holding her booted foot off the ground. If Lauren didn’t have a comfortable chair for Nicole, he would go to Birch Bend and buy one.

  Ethan had all four doors of his Lexus open by the time Nicole and Lauren conquered the few yards separating the clinic entrance from the vehicle. Nicole carefully maneuvered herself to sit on the edge of the backseat and handed her crutches to Lauren.

  “I feel like I have to think about every stinkin’ move I make,” Nicole said.

  “You do,” Ethan said. “Successful rehab begins now by not making things worse.”

  Ethan was full of good advice for patients. Some of it he even believed.

  Gently, an inch at a time, Nicole scooted back on the seat until she rested her injured foot on the padding. She twisted, looking for a seat belt. Ethan leaned into the car, found both ends of one, and fastened them across her lap. His face was inches from hers.

  She put a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, Ethan. It means a lot that you would come for me. But you never answered my question. Do you have to leave tonight?”

  “Let me make some calls before I answer.” He gave the seat belt an extra tug to be sure it was latched.

  Lauren settled in the front passenger seat, and Ethan started the engine. He glanced in the rearview mirror at Nicole.

  “I had an interesting conversation with Dani Roose this morning,” he said.

  Lauren twisted under the constraint of her seat belt so fast Ethan thought she might fly over the center console at him.

  “You saw Dani this morning?”

  “Yes.” He glanced at Lauren as he backed out of the parking spot. “What’s the big deal?”

  “Have you been under a rock all day? Dani’s boat went over the falls.”

  He nodded. “That’s what she said. Good thing she wasn’t in it at the time.”

  Air swished out of both Lauren and Nicole.

  “What’s going on?” he said.

  “George Kopp found pieces of her boat, but no one has heard from Dani all day.” Lauren leaned against the headrest. “Have you told anyone you saw her?”

  “She roused me out of a sound sleep, demanding to see the photos on my camera. We had breakfast at that old diner on the other side of the falls. I wasn’t the only person to see her.”

  “There must have been a shift change at the diner,” Lauren said. “People have been looking for her all day. When we get Nicole settled, you have to tell Cooper Elliott what happened—or my aunt.”

  “I don’t know what happened.” Ethan pulled out of the parking lot and turned south toward downtown. “She took a few images off my computer, and there wasn’t much more to it. Except she said Quinn has a friend who comes to fish with him once a year.”

  “That’s something to work with.” Nicole slapped the seat. “If we can find Dani to tell us more.”

  Ethan glanced in the rearview mirror again. Nicole’s head lolled slightly. The medication was kicking in. The best thing at this point would be to make sure she got a good night’s sleep.

  “I live above the barbershop,” Lauren said.

  Ethan tried to imagine Lauren’s life—an apartment in town, blocks from where she worked, walking as a primary form of transportation. Ethan hoped she at least had a bicycle. It seemed like a small life. She had been away to college, and so had her aunt. What would bring them both back to this small town with its limited prospects? Didn’t they have any ambition?

  He parked and shut off the ignition.

  Upstairs, Lauren cleared a stack of magazines out of a recliner, and Ethan helped Lauren ease into it and put the padded footrest up.

  “I’ll get the bed made up in the guest room,” Lauren said.

  “We should ice her ankle,” Ethan said.

  “Plenty of ice in the freezer.”

  Ethan put a throw pillow under Nicole’s ankle before leaving her alone in the living room. In the kitchen, he found ice, gallon-size ziplock bags, and a dish towel. By the time he returned to Nicole to begin unstrapping the boot cast to expose her swollen ankle, she was on the phone with her office.

  “What are you talking about, Terry?” she said. “Nobody said anything to me.”

  Ethan couldn’t hear the response, but he didn’t like the way it made Nicole tense up. He folded the makeshift ice pack into the towel. As gently as he could, he lifted the ankle to secure the ice pack at the point of swelling. Nicole’s foot was well into a typical black-and-blue inflammatory response.

  “I’ll have to call you again tomorrow,” Nicole said into the phone. “My meds are kicking in and I can’t think straight.”

  She tossed her phone on the end table.

  “Everything okay?”

  “They killed my story.”

  “You need to get some rest.”

  “I wish everyone would quit saying that.” Nicole winced under Ethan’s touch as he arranged the ice. “Tomorrow we’re going to get back to looking for Quinn. We’ll start by figuring out who th
is guy is that Dani has seen.”

  Nicole wasn’t likely to cooperate with her need for rest as long as Quinn was missing. Ethan would have to stay around to insist she behave sensibly.

  4:04 p.m.

  Marianne had left Town Hall two hours ago, which was two hours past her usual nine-to-twelve work hours. On a normal day, Sylvia spent a couple of hours in the morning efficiently attending to her duties as mayor from her office in Town Hall. Her home phone number was in the book, everyone knew she owned Waterfall Books and Gifts, and half the town seemed to have her cell phone number or know someone who did. Sylvia was hardly inaccessible because she limited her office hours.

  Today, though, had been one relentless interruption after another. The waiting room filled and refilled with people demanding to know what the mayor was going to do about the spate of alarming events over the last three days. Sylvia’s office phone rang so persistently that she and her assistant agreed Marianne would answer line one and Sylvia would pick up line two. With her cell phone she played a day-long round of telephone tag with Cooper Elliott. They left each other cryptic messages in the hope they would have a full conversation before the day was out. Now it was after four in the afternoon, and Sylvia hadn’t yet stepped foot in her shop despite being dressed in jeans and tennis shoes for a cleanup operation.

  She powered down the computer on her desk, held her breath, and cocked her head to listen to sounds from the waiting room. To her relief, Sylvia heard no shuffling, no coughing, no outdated magazine pages flipping, no cell phones playing silly tunes. Was it possible she was alone? Sylvia slid a few essential folders into her slim briefcase and picked up her cell phone and purse. Cracking her office door, she made sure the anteroom was indeed empty before snapping off the light switch and exiting. Her car was on the street in front of Town Hall and about five blocks from her store. Sylvia opted to move the old Ford now. After getting such a late start, the chances were good she would be at the store past dark.

  Sylvia met no one on the stairs on her way out of the building and kept her head ducked to avoid eye contact until she reached her car with her key in hand ready for a swift entry into the vehicle. She was still tugging on her seat belt as she backed out of her parking spot. Transit time to the shop was only a couple of minutes, and Sylvia chose to park in the alley behind the store.