The Return of Cassandra Todd

by Darrel Nelson

  “The canoe!” Turner shouted.

  When they arrived, he handed Justin to her and picked up the canoe like it was a cardboard cutout. He dropped it in the water and threw the paddles in the bottom. Not bothering with the life jackets, he took Justin from her and climbed into the canoe, steadying it while she followed. He situated Justin carefully at his feet and pushed off from the dock.

  A surge of fire shot down the trail and ignited the dock. Flaming fingers clawed the air, reaching . . . grasping.

  Cassandra grabbed the other paddle, and she and Turner worked in rhythm, frantically making their way from shore.

  Still not willing to relent, however, the fire moved along the water’s edge to a point that jutted out into the lake like a crooked thumb. Steering for the center of the lake, Turner and Cassandra paddled until they were exhausted, not pausing to admire the scenery and appreciate the beauty of their surroundings . . . which were going up in smoke. Literally.

  When they reached the center of the lake, they stopped paddling and slumped wearily in their seats. The canoe drifted on the red-tinged surface as the fire continued to rage around them.

  Turner picked up Justin and held him close, dipping his hand in the water and wetting the little boy’s fevered brow. Justin moaned slightly and stirred.

  Cassandra turned around in the canoe so she was facing them and looked anxiously at her son.

  “The fire’s like a giant emergency flare,” Turner said. “It will bring help. We’ll be able to get Justin to the hospital as soon as emergency services arrive.”

  She exhaled in relief and looked back at the dock. It was burning now and the front section had collapsed. Then her gaze went to the cabin. She shuddered and her expression clouded over as tears formed in her eyes.

  Turner reached for her hand and squeezed reassuringly. “It’s all right, Cassandra. You’ve been holding it in a long while. Too long.”

  So with Justin cradled safely between them, they sat bobbing on the water as she cried, releasing emotions that had been repressed for years. And in the distance, above the roar and hiss of the flames, came the unmistakable wail of sirens.

  CHAPTER 37

  DESPITE THE PAIN of his injuries, Turner felt comforted by Loretta’s regular visits with him in the hospital. She hovered, fluffed his pillow, filled his water glass, and stood guard so he could rest. One of the nurses jokingly asked when the hospital had been upgraded to a five-star establishment. Turner wondered what the nurse would think when Loretta began supplementing his hospital meals with home cooking.

  He was in worse condition than first thought. Cassandra too. They had first-and second-degree burns on their arms and hands that required immediate attention to prevent infection. And Turner had some lacerations on his back and legs he didn’t remember receiving. Antiseptic cream and bandages were applied, and painkillers were administered at regular intervals.

  They had been airlifted by helicopter to the hospital and put in separate rooms. Justin was taken to the children’s ward, which upset Cassandra because she didn’t want to be away from him. But the hospital staff convinced her it was for the best.

  Loretta shuttled between rooms and gave Turner regular updates on their progress, but the news worried him. Justin was still not responding to stimuli but was in stable condition. He was not able to eat on his own, so he was being fed intravenously.

  Visits from members of the Silverthorne police department and the Colorado Department of Forestry and Fire Protection worried Turner too. The forest fire burned for two days before firefighters were able to get it under control, and it warranted investigation. So did the body count. Turner had to make several statements regarding the origins of the fire and the deaths of Slick and Brad. He also told them about Twitch, who was found the following day, wandering in an unburned section of the forest and babbling incoherently. The investigators asked tough questions, and Turner’s answers left lingering doubts in their minds: Did the first victim fall off the cliff or was he pushed? Why was the second victim unable to escape the fire in the cabin if he was the one who started it?

  Turner couldn’t fault the investigators for being confused by the facts. An unfortunate series of fatalities pointed directly to him, and it took some effort to convince the police that he wasn’t really a serial killer disguised as a handyman and college student.

  They took statements from Cassandra too, Turner learned. She told them about the financial records and documents. The investigators were extremely interested and went to retrieve them. After receiving everything, the interrogation stopped. Turner assumed it meant there was enough corroboration to close the case. Either that or the investigators decided not to ruffle Loretta’s feathers further. She clucked around in the background and was as relieved as he was to see the back of their suits.

  The following morning, however, several FBI agents arrived, and Turner had to go through it all over again, which perturbed Mother Hen even more. When their questions hinted of accusations, she looked ready to gather her chick under her wings and peck out the agents’ eyes.

  Harvey came for a visit in the afternoon. He asked how Turner was doing and then promptly launched into an account of his own aches and pains. He ended by saying how much the Mountain View Motel needed Turner back, and he promised no to-do list until Turner was strong enough to resume work. Which, Turner guessed, probably meant the day after his return home.

  Loretta scolded Harvey for his lack of bedside manners and handed Turner a glass of water.

  Turner took a sip and then set it aside. “I wanted to say I’m sorry about the car, Mama Retta. The Buick was—”

  “Don’t worry about that old girl,” she replied. “It’s time we upgraded anyway. What would you think of us getting an SUV?”

  “Four-door, V8,” Harvey added.

  Images flashed through his mind of Loretta behind the wheel of a zippy, high-performance vehicle, running drivers off the road, left and right. “We’ll talk,” he replied.

  “Silver, I think,” she mused, obviously in honor of the old girl.

  Mary arrived just then, allowing for a timely change of subject.

  “Please tell me your friend has fire insurance,” Turner said, ready to apologize himself hoarse. He had tried to think of ways he could make it up to her friend, short of taking out a loan to rebuild the cabin, but so far had come up with nothing.

  Mary pulled up a chair beside the bed. “I spoke with her last night. She does have fire insurance and is meeting with the adjustor tomorrow. She didn’t sound worried.”

  “But the fire destroyed everything. The beautiful scenery that made the cabin so idyllic is now a charred wasteland.”

  “She’s going to put the insurance money into a retirement condo in Palm Springs. She’s actually been talking about it for a while. Now, she has an excuse to do it.”

  Turner shook his head in chagrin. “But the trouble we caused. You let us use the cabin and—”

  “We’ll have no such foolish talk,” Loretta said, planting a fist on each of her generous hips. “Things can be replaced. People can’t.”

  “I agree,” Mary added. “The Good Book reminds us not to set our hearts on the riches of this world, where moths and rust can destroy. Or where bad guys can burn down cabins.” She winked at Turner. “I threw in that last part. But the point is, things of this world pass away. Treasures in heaven, however, last forever. And you, young man, have a pile waiting for you there. It’s a great thing you did, helping Cassandra and that cute little child of hers. I just praise the Lord that you all didn’t go and get yourselves killed. I was so worried for you.”

  Turner looked from her to Loretta. “And I’m so glad you are both all right. I was afraid those guys had used strong-arm tactics to make you reveal our location.”

  Loretta and Mary exchanged glances, and then Loretta fired a look of disapproval at Harvey. “Do you want to tell him or should we?” she asked.

  Harvey looked at Turner sheepishly and clear
ed his throat.

  “The PI guy contacted me the other day—”

  “He wasn’t a PI,” Loretta muttered.

  “More like a hired thug,” Mary added.

  Harvey squirmed in his chair. “How was I to know?

  Anyway, he contacted me the other day and asked if I knew your whereabouts. I’d overheard Loretta talking to Mary, so I knew about the cabin. He told me about the wife running away for her safety and said the police had apprehended the husband and that the wife was needed to testify against him, to keep him locked behind bars. What was I supposed to do?”

  Mary politely declined to answer the question.

  “Keep your mouth shut,” Loretta replied, less politely.

  Harvey turned to Turner defensively. “I just wanted you to be able to come home, so I gave him the general directions to the cabin. Turns out he played me for a sucker.”

  “And like a sucker, you swallowed the bait, hook, line, and sinker,” Loretta muttered.

  “He was convincing,” Turner said, remembering Slick pointing the gun convincingly at him.

  Harvey turned triumphantly toward Loretta, but she waved her hand dismissively.

  They sat in quiet contemplation for a moment. Turner took a drink of water in an attempt to douse the fevered memories of the past few days.

  Loretta rolled him gently over so she could fluff his pillow again. Turner didn’t protest the treatment. Loretta, as Mother Hen, was a force to be reckoned with, but that was nothing compared to her as Mother Bear, so he kept quiet and let her fluff to her heart’s content.

  After fussing and fretting for a while longer, she declared it was time for Harvey and her to get back to the motel. Mary said she had an appointment with a young victim of parental abuse—“It just goes on and on,” she sighed—and gave Turner a kiss on the cheek.

  Turner smiled as he watched Harvey beat them to the door. Hospitals made his boss nervous.

  Once he was alone, Turner settled back on his fluffy pillow and tried to close his eyes. But an image of Brad’s shirt catching fire pushed its way into his consciousness, followed by the memory of Slick going over the cliff. He lay staring at the ceiling, distracting himself by counting the tiles, but he only got to fifty-three before his eyes began to droop. And then . . . the images returned.

  Cassandra arrived in a wheelchair later that evening. “Hi,” she said, approaching the bed. “I just had to come and see you. How are you doing?” She studied his bandages and thought how tired he looked.

  Turner propped himself up on one elbow. “Not too bad. It only hurts when I breathe.”

  Cassandra felt a profound sense of responsibility for Turner’s condition. And during the two days she had been confined to her bed, she had thought a great deal about him. Between her concerns for Justin and the guilt she felt for involving Turner in the first place, she had thought of little else.

  “How are you doing?” Turner asked, interrupting her self-recrimination.

  “Pretty good,” she replied.

  “I agree with the pretty part.”

  Cassandra blushed and instinctively touched her hair.

  “And how’s Justin doing?” Turner asked.

  She sat up a little straighter. “He’s responding to the medication and his fever has finally broken.”

  “Is he talking yet?”

  “No, but apparently that’s normal. The doctors tell me it’s just going to take time.”

  Turner held out his bandaged hand, and she rolled forward and gently pressed her fingertips to his. His touch was soft and warm, and she felt a tingling sensation despite the pain of her burns.

  “I can’t begin to thank you for what you’ve done for Justin and me,” she said, smiling at him. “I don’t know what we would have done without you. But I’m just so sorry I got you involved and you got hurt.”

  “Like I told you before, I’m not sorry.”

  She studied him momentarily and a felt a sense of relief.

  “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking over the past two days, Turner. I firmly believe that you were the answer to our prayers. You were the one person who could help Justin and me.”

  “You’re giving me too much credit.”

  Cassandra shook her head. “I don’t think so. I feel we were led to the one person who was prepared to help us. Do you remember the story of Esther in the Bible?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “Esther was a girl who was raised up to be queen of Persia at a time when her people, the Jews, were in danger of being destroyed. But she was afraid to speak in their defense and present herself to the king unannounced for fear of displeasing him and being executed. But Mordecai, her adoptive father and advisor, told her that perhaps she had been raised up for such a time as this in order to rescue her people.”

  “I still think you’re giving me too much credit.”

  “You worked for four years at that youth camp and learned outdoor and survival skills. You blessed the lives of many young people, but then you were laid off because you were needed elsewhere. And after your mother died, you were led to the motel because Loretta and Harvey needed you, and you needed to register in college and get on with your life. And I believe you were led to us because you were the only one who had the skills to do what you did. You stopped a lot of bad people and illegal activities, Turner, and I believe you were raised up for such a time as this.”

  Turner stroked his chin pensively. “Actually, I believe you were led here for my sake.”

  She expressed surprise. “What do you mean?”

  “There were some things missing in my life—some things I needed to learn. Or relearn. And I’m grateful to you, Cassandra, for helping me do that.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” she protested.

  “You helped me see what was right in front of my face the whole time.” He shifted in the bed to get more comfortable. “I told you that when I was in the mudslide, heading for certain death, the thought occurred to me to swim with the current, rather than fight against it. At first I wondered if it came to me because of my survival training. But when I was wrestling with Brad for the gun, in the cabin, and prayed for strength to outmuscle him, a powerful thought occurred to me as though a voice said: Go for his shin! So I released my grip and kicked him hard in his tender shin, forcing him to drop the gun. That gave you and me time to reach the door before the roof collapsed. If I had stubbornly tried to outmuscle him, you and I wouldn’t be here now. God has been guiding me all along, Cassandra. I can see that now.”

  She reached out and caressed his fingertips. “It’s wonderful to hear you say that, Turner.”

  “And when I get better, I’m going to make the most of it.” He looked into her eyes. “You and I are going to see that Justin gets the best care possible. We’ll work together to—”

  Cassandra dropped her gaze. “Actually Justin is being transferred to Sunrise Children’s Hospital in Las Vegas.”

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow morning. And I’m going with him. The hospital there has a stress therapist for children. Her name is Dr. Courtnall, and she specializes in play therapy, which will allow Justin to deal with the trauma he’s experienced. It will give him a chance to work through his feelings naturally and safely, and help him get better.” Her voice broke. “But it’s going to be hard.”

  “He’s a tough little guy. I know he’ll be okay.”

  “Also, I’ve got to see a family friend who is a lawyer. He’s going to help me with the legal matters relating to the marriage and . . . Brad’s death. There are some other things I need help sorting out, so I have to return home as quickly as possible.”

  “Then I’m coming with you. Just as soon as I—”

  She shook her head. “You need to stay here and get better. You’ve fallen behind in your studies, and I know there’s a pile of jobs waiting for you at the motel.”

  “They can wait a little longer.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “We’re going to have to wa
it a little longer, Turner. I’ve got to go be with Justin and take care of things at home. And you’ve got responsibilities here.”

  “But I want to be with you.”

  “And I want to be with you too. But it will just be until Justin gets better.”

  He toyed with the edge of the blanket. “I understand why you have to leave. I just wish it wasn’t so soon.”

  She pursed her lips. “I owe a lot of money. The medical bills are piling up, and Brad put us in debt with a series of bad investments. The banks wouldn’t carry him, so he borrowed from the wrong kind of people and put us even further in debt.” She shook her head wearily. “I called the bank this afternoon. The stocks and bonds don’t amount to as much money as I was hoping. I’m going to have to sell the house and everything just to get my head above water.”

  “What about declaring bankruptcy? The debts aren’t your doing.”

  “But I’m still legally tied to them. Besides, the people who loaned Brad money would never leave me alone. The police have the records and charges will probably be laid, but it could take months to get everything straightened out. Meanwhile I’d be hounded for the outstanding amount, and that’s not how I want to live. Plus, I’d have a lousy credit rating. No, the only way is to pay back everything and be done with it.”

  Turner considered her response and then asked, “When everything’s taken care of and Justin’s better, will you come back?”

  She smiled. “Just try and stop me.” Looking into his eyes, she held his gaze. “I wish I would have known you back in high school for the person you truly are.” She smiled wryly. “And Brad too for that matter. I wish I could have seen both of you more clearly. Things would have been so different.” She gently touched his fingertips. “I’m a better person because of you, Turner Caldwell.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek and then turned as if to leave.

  “Stay a little longer,” he whispered.

  She maneuvered her wheelchair sideways and placed her head gently on his arm. “I’d like that,” she said softly.