Lowcountry Boneyard

by Susan M. Boyer

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  “It was either Abigail and/or C.C., or possibly Virginia, who hired the thugs, though I think Virginia’s a long shot.”

  We bounced theories back and forth all the way back to Orangeburg, where we stopped for a break. When we got back in the car, Colleen was in the backseat. Her expression was grim.

  “You know what?” I said to Nate. “I’d love a Cheerwine. I’m sorry. I should’ve gotten it while we were inside. Do you want anything?”

  “I’ll get it. Be right back.” He got out of the car and headed back into the convenience store.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked Colleen.

  “Ask Nate to let you drive.”

  “Why?”

  “We don’t have time for why. Just listen. You drive. Drive as slow as you can. Stay as far away from other cars as you possibly can. Don’t take your sunglasses off.”

  “What in the world? Colleen—”

  “Avoid the trees.”

  Nate climbed back in the car and handed me my Cheerwine.

  “Thank you. Hey listen, you’ve been driving a while. Why don’t you relax and let me drive a bit?”

  “I’m fine, but thanks.”

  “Nate Andrews, do you not trust my driving?”

  I reached for indignant, but I was anxious. What was going on?

  “It’s not that.”

  “Then let me drive.”

  I got out of the car and walked around to his side.

  He shrugged, unbuckled his seatbelt, and got out of the car.

  I got in and adjusted the seat and mirrors. When I looked into the rearview, Colleen was gone. I took a long swig of Cheerwine. The section of I-26 not too far in front of us, between I-95 and Summerville, was one of the most dangerous sections of highway in the country. Hundreds of people had been injured in accidents there over the past several years. Many had died. I put both hands on the steering wheel and squared my shoulders.

  Traffic was heavy. I eased back onto the interstate, trying my best to stay away from other cars. The speed limit was seventy. I held it at sixty-eight and stayed in the right lane.

  After a bit, I found a spot several car lengths from the Escalade in front of me and kept my speed steady.

  A stream of cars passed me. I could feel Nate studying me, but I kept my eyes on the road.

  After a few minutes, he said, “You turned awful quiet. Anything you want to talk about?”

  “Just focused on driving is all.”

  “If you say so.”

  The median between the east and westbound lanes was wide, the topography varied from flat to ravine. Clumps of trees appeared in the passing landscape. Gradually, they became thicker until few gaps broke the tree line. The shoulder dropped off steeply. Twenty minutes after we left Orangeburg, we crossed under I-95. My hands at nine and three, I gripped the steering wheel.

  For long stretches, dense swamp crowded the right shoulder. Just past mile marker 188, the Escalade slowed way down. I thought maybe the driver had car trouble and was looking for a spot to pull over. But the SUV just kept going slower and held the lane.

  “What’s up with this guy?” Nate said. “The speed limit is seventy.”

  I signaled to pass. A motorcycle whizzed by us.

  I pulled into the left lane. As soon as I passed the Escalade, it pulled in behind me.

  A blinding white light shot through the windshield.

  “What the hell?” Nate yelled.

  I fought the urge to cover my eyes. Behind my sunglasses, I squinted, tried to see around the light. It was too bright and too big.

  Beneath us, the surface changed. The tires rolled over the shoulder. I was drifting left, towards a deadly stand of trees in the median. If I overcorrected, I could slam into someone in the right lane. I braked.

  The light was unrelenting.

  Nate spat out a string of curses.

  I slowed as much as I could and tried to ease over into the median, praying for a break in the tree line.

  I must’ve caught a section of the median where it fell off steeply. The Explorer pitched.

  I pulled right on the steering wheel.

  The car teetered.

  We rolled.

  Time seemed to stop.

  Airbags popped open. Brightly colored shimmers of light filled the air. Colleen?

  The car slammed into timber.

  Blackness.

  I heard voices. I tried to open my eyes but couldn’t. The voices faded. I slipped away.

  Later, hours or days, I couldn’t tell, I heard Merry talking. “It’s time for you to wake up now. What do you want to hear today? More Pillars of the Earth or People Magazine? I could sing.”

  I groaned, or tried. So thirsty.

  “Liz?” Merry’s voice was urgent. “Liz? Please wake up. Hey! Somebody? Get a doctor in here. She made a noise.”

  Where was I?

  Nate.

  Oh Sweet Lord. Where was Nate? The car had rolled.

  I mustered everything within me and opened my eyes.

  “She’s awake!” Merry jumped up and down. “Can you hear me?”

  I blinked. I couldn’t talk. My throat was so dry, my lips parched. I worked to make one word come out of my mouth. Nate.

  Merry disappeared. “Hey! My sister’s awake. Get a doctor. Now,” she roared.

  She came back to the bed and took my hand. Tears streamed down her face. “You’re awake.”

  I blinked back tears. I tried squeezing her hand. How could I communicate with her? I was desperate to know that Nate was all right.

  “You’ve been out for two days,” she said. “I’ve got to call Mamma and Daddy. They just went to get coffee.”

  By the time she’d summoned our parents and called Blake, a doctor appeared and ran them all out.

  “Liz, I’m Doctor Young,” she said. “Do you remember what happened?”

  I blinked. Then tried a nod. I could nod. Progress.

  She shined a light in my eyes, checked me over.

  “You’re at MUSC. Today is Friday.”

  Friday? We’d been driving home Wednesday evening.

  She reached for a cup and put a straw to my lips. “I know you’re thirsty, but just a few sips right now, okay?”

  I nodded again. Oh dear heaven, that water tasted good. I took two sips. “Nate?” I forced his name out. My voiced sounded like a ninety-year-old smoker’s.

  “Mr. Andrews is down the hall. His injuries—both your injuries—are miraculously minor given the condition of the car you were driving. You’re both bruised up badly. But aside from the fact we couldn’t get you to wake up for two days, nothing to worry about. You have a nasty concussion. We were afraid it might’ve been a fracture, but your CT scan is clear. We’ve had you both under observation for internal injuries, because, frankly, none of us can believe you don’t have any. Do you remember who pulled you out of the car? The highway patrol officers haven’t been able to find your Good Samaritan.”

  “No,” I said.

  “The officers asked me to call when you woke up.”

  I nodded.

  “I’ll give you some time with your family.”

  “Thank you. Can I see Nate?”

  She smiled. “I don’t think a team of mules could keep him away once I let him know you’re awake. He’s been sitting in that chair by your bed ever since he regained consciousness. I believe your sister ran him back to his own bed an hour or so ago.”

  “Sounds like Merry.”

  “I’ll check back in with you before I leave today. You can go home tomorrow provided you remain stable.”

  “Thank you.” Thank God. Thank Colleen.

  She walked out and left the door propped open. In a rush came Mamma, Daddy, Merry, Joe Eaddy,
and Blake. And Nate. He walked towards me safe and whole and I started bawling.

  Mamma said, “Liz, honey, are you all right? Frank, get the doctor.”

  Daddy said, “Well, she just left, Caroline. Tutie’s just happy to see us.” Daddy looked me over, reassuring himself.

  Merry said, “What do you need? You want some more water? Are you in pain?”

  Mamma said, “Merry, close those blinds, it’s too bright in here.”

  Blake walked up to the side of the bed. He was rubbing the back of his neck, his stress tell. “About time you woke up. What the hell happened? Nate said someone blinded you.”

  I nodded. I was still tired, and I had a lot to process.

  Then they were all talking at once, everyone telling the others to be quiet and let me rest. Over the roar, Daddy said, “Why don’t we let Nate here have the chair? None of the rest of us is banged up.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Talbot.”

  “I told you before. Frank will be fine. Here, sit down.”

  Nate did as he was told and reached for my hand. “You had us worried, Slugger. I need to hear you tell me you’re okay.” His eyes glistened, too.

  “I’m fine. Are you okay?”

  “Unaccountably. Truck’s totaled. Caught fire. Exploded. Apparently, we slept through a hell of a mess. I have no idea who pulled us out and away from there. One of the highway patrolmen said the first guy on the scene saw a red-haired teenage girl dragging me over by you—about twenty yards from the truck—but she disappeared.”

  Colleen. Colleen pulled us out. She’d been there. I remembered her shimmers.

  Nate said, “I don’t think I’m going to buy another grey Explorer. That combination hasn’t been real lucky for us.” He smiled weakly. The last one he’d had just like it had ended up in the water.

  I smiled back at him and squeezed his hand.

  “It’s a good thing you were driving,” he said. “I wasn’t going to say anything because I didn’t want to fight with you, but you were driving fifteen miles an hour slower than I would’ve been. Probably saved both our lives.”

  “I have a strong suspicion how so many Ingles have ended up dead in car accidents,” I said.

  “I was thinking the same thing.”

  Mamma approached the other side of the bed. “Here, sugar, this will make you feel better.” She bathed my face with a cool cloth.

  “Thank you, Mamma.”

  “Here now, put on a little lipstick.” She handed me a tube of Estee Lauder.

  Twenty-Eight

  As promised, we were both discharged Saturday morning with the usual warnings to rest. And we did. We went back to my house and let Mamma do what she does best—feed us. On her first stop of several, she brought homemade pimento cheese, which she knows I have a particular fondness for, a platter of fried chicken, deviled eggs, potato salad, green beans, and a chocolate cake. She insisted on fixing us plates of lunch before she left.

  When she had us situated at the kitchen table and taken care of to her satisfaction she said, “I’ll be back in just a bit. Don’t worry about these dishes, now.”

  “This is incredible.” Nate had a dazed look on his face. This was his first experience of being mothered by Caroline Talbot. “Thank you so much for all of this.”

  Mamma rested a hand on his shoulder and looked at him sideways. “You didn’t think I’d let you go hungry, did you? Liz, call me if y’all need me to pick up anything on my way back.” She hugged us and was gone.

  Nate dug into his plate. “Mmm-mmm. Green beans never tasted like this when my mamma made them. She had one basic recipe she used for just about everything. Open the can, pour it in a bowl, microwave.”

  “Mamma doesn’t countenance to food out of a can, with the exception of the creamy soups she puts in casseroles and all like that.” I tasted the potato salad. “Yum.”

  “She’s a sweet lady. Your whole family…they’ve taken real good care of us.” Undercurrents churned in his eyes.

  “Family does for family.” This was the bedrock on which my world was built.

  “My family doesn’t operate this way. And I have to tell you, I’m not sure I’ll ever get over the urge to apologize to your entire family, on behalf of mine and all our ancestors, for Scott.”

  I reached out for his hand. “Sweetheart, do not entertain such a notion. You are not responsible for his lack of character. Let it go. I have. So have they.”

  He raised his eyebrows, widened his eyes, and dropped his chin to the side. “Seems like a lot for them to overlook.”

  “I don’t want to look back anymore. Let’s focus on the future. I’m just so thankful we’re going to have one. We’re very fortunate to be sitting here right now.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that. When I woke up in that hospital and didn’t know where you were…” He twined his fingers through mine and held tight.

  “I know. Me, too.” It occurred to me then very likely no one had been there when he woke up. Merry had been by my side, and the rest of the family downstairs.

  “Have you spoken to your parents?”

  He shook his head. “No. The hospital didn’t call them. You’ve been listed as my next of kin for years.”

  “Don’t you want to call them? Surely they’d want to know—want to be here for you.” I’d mentioned this in the hospital, but he’d avoided the topic.

  “There’s no need. I’m fine.”

  We’d barely finished lunch when Moon Unit brought over a casserole, followed by Nell and Ansley Johnson with a chicken pot pie. Nell had Ansley on a short leash. Her eyes had a medicated look to them. She didn’t have much to say, only that Matt hadn’t been released, and her daddy had retained her an attorney.

  Calista came by next. She was annoyingly coy on the subject of my brother. Then came Grace, followed by virtually everyone else on the island. Nate and I did not go hungry, is what I’m saying. I ended up freezing way more than we ate. By Monday morning, we were itching to get back to work, if still sore.

  We planned our day at the island in the kitchen, over our second cup of coffee.

  I said, “As careful as we were, there’s no way anyone tracked us to Greenville and laid in wait on the way home.”

  We’d been all through this, several times.

  “Agreed.” Nate set his mug on the counter. “I told you, I think Doctor Lynda Lawrence was our tripwire. Aside from Sonny and Blake, she’s the only person who knew we were in Greenville. And you told her we were on our way back.”

  “But how’d she get herself caught up in this mess?”

  “Someone kept tabs on Redrick Lawrence. When his daughter put him in an assisted living facility, they probably contacted her, or, more likely, hired someone else to do it. Made up some story about how someone might try to harass her father, and for his protection, if anyone ever called, she should call this number, and so forth.”

  “That begs the question. Is someone now on high alert at the assisted living center?”

  “Maybe,” Nate said. “Or they could be figuring on doing a more effective job of getting rid of us.”

  We both fell quiet. Clearly, at least one of the Bounetheaus had tried to have us killed. It had only served to make us more determined to solve our case.

  As it turned out, there were only two Alzheimer’s care facilities in Mount Pleasant, so it didn’t take many florist inquires to ascertain which one housed Doctor Redrick Lawrence. It was a couple blocks off Johnnie Dodds Boulevard.

  Nate and I walked through the front doors at nine a.m. and asked to see someone regarding Nate’s mother, who would soon be needing full-time care. We both apologized profusely for not having made an appointment. This was a difficult time.

  The lady at the front desk was very understanding. She got the director, who gave us a detailed tour, and all sorts of brochures. Fortunate
ly, patients’ names were posted outside their rooms. We went back to the director’s office to discuss the financial aspects of care. Soon after, I excused myself and asked directions to the ladies room.

  I made my way back to Doctor Lawrence’s room. He sat in a chair by the window, watching birds fluttering around an empty bird feeder.

  I knocked twice on the door, though it stood open. “Hey, Doctor Lawrence, how are you today?”

  “I’m fine. How are you?”

  He spoke clearly. His eyes were focused.

  “I’m doing real good. Do you mind if I sit and talk with you for a few minutes?”

  He was seated, but I made him for over six feet. His hair was white, his skin mottled and red in spots. He smiled wryly. “Not at all. Few people do. I’m happy for the company.”

  I smiled and sat in a chair next to him. “I’m Liz. Someone needs to fill the feeder for the birds, don’t they?”

  “I like the blue ones best.”

  “Those are my favorite, too. Blue birds of happiness.”

  “Sometimes,” he said.

  I didn’t want to scare him, but I didn’t have much time. “Doctor Lawrence, do you remember Kathy Ingle?”

  He looked at me with shrewd eyes. “You mean Virginia Bounetheau?”

  I almost stopped breathing. “Yes.”

  “Of course I remember her.” He sighed. “I’m an old man. I can’t tell you what I did yesterday, but I can tell you most anything you want to know about the eighties. Not that anyone ever asks. I’ve been parked here to die where I don’t upset anyone with my illness.”

  “That’s just horrible.” I hurt for him. He had family close by. Who does that kind of thing?

  “Since you took the trouble, young lady, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

  I smiled at him gently. “Thank you. This may help us find a young girl who’s gone missing. Do you know what happened at the hospital in Greenville? What happened to the twins?”