by Lisa Stowe
Chapter 25
“This isn’t breakfast, it’s a snack." May tossed her napkin down. “How do you expect me to take care of my blood sugar on this?”
“Four croissants with jam better raise your blood sugar or we’ll need to take you to the hospital,” Cody said, sitting across the small table from her mother.
She’d managed another couple hours of sleep, dozing off on the couch in the living room, but at the moment she felt like she had been up all night. She rested her chin in her hand, elbow on the table, and poked at the yogurt and strawberries in front of her. She’d left Rachel scrambling eggs for Florence and insisting she didn’t need any help. But Cody wanted to get back as soon as possible, to free Rachel to deal with the museum.
“How is that police woman who got shot?” May asked.
“The hospital wouldn’t tell me much when I called this morning,” Cody said, turning a water glass in circles. “About all they said was that she was more stable. I think I’ll need to go up there to get more information.”
May pulled her coffee forward and doctored it with half and half and three packets of sugar. “Don’t bother. I’ll have my packing done by checkout time at eleven. You can pick me up then, and we can get lunch for the drive home.”
Cody raised her head. “Excuse me?”
“There’s nothing wrong with your hearing,” May said. “You pick me up at eleven.”
“I’m not going back yet.”
May swallowed coffee and pushed the cup back. “I’ll be in my room." She stood up, gasped, and caught the back of her chair.
Cody started upward, and then sat back, her insides going very still and serene, as if something had just come home.
“I’m so dizzy,” May said, and held a hand to her face.
“Probably all the sugar and caffeine you just had,” Cody said, standing and pulling her keys out of her pocket. “You better go lay down. I’m headed over to the museum and then I’ll be at Rachel’s if you need me.”
“I’m not sure I can make it to the elevator,” May said.
“If you’re that bad off then I’ll have the manager call 911 and take you to the hospital.”
“Maybe you should,” May said, straightening up. Her mouth pursed downward, pushing folds of skin into three chins instead of two. “Since you obviously prefer to go to your new friends who get shot at rather than taking care of the mother who raised you.”
Cody’s newfound courage faltered at the familiar sting of implied failure as a daughter. She gripped the keys until the ridges bit into her palm.
“And since you’re leaving me you should see about getting your hair cut. Those frizzies are getting out of control.”
Cody pulled in a deep breath, trying to get the air to reach all the way to her toes and fingers. She managed to ease her grip on the keys, and instead of looking into May’s small hazel eyes, she turned away. That small act of breaking eye contact seemed to ease the sense of failure.
“I’m growing my hair out,” she said. “I’ll check in with you later.”
She walked away without looking back, although each step felt like betrayal. She knew she was letting May down, she knew, as a daughter, she should be attending to the dizziness, helping May upstairs, getting her comfortable. But she also knew it was time to, as Rachel had said, grow some balls.
What Rachel hadn’t said was how hard it would be, how each increment of separation from her mother would bite into her with teeth that chewed failure. And all she did was walk away for the first time. She doubted this would get easier the more she stood up to May. And that tiny part of her that relished in the strength was like a marshmallow with a sledgehammer hanging over it.
Outside the morning air held more winter than fall, but at least the rain had backed away. The museum was only a couple blocks down Bank Street, and Cody walked in that direction. She would make a quick stop there to see if she could find out anything for Rachel. Then she’d head over to the hospital to hopefully spend some time with Jess before going back to Florence’s.
At first glance the museum didn’t look that bad. The large front picture window was broken out, and smoke stained the bricks around it. The buildings on either side were also touched with the soot brush. The door was propped open by the old rusty Pulaski axe head, and Cody could hear voices inside the building. She stopped in the doorway, unsure about entering, and watched firefighters sifting through debris.
The long counter that had held so many souvenirs was crushed, and no silver glinted through the burial remains of charred wood. Water dripped from every surface, and the smell of smoke made Cody’s eyes water. The stand that had held stapled copies of local stories was gone, and through the entry way that led to the mining displays, Cody could see even more extensive damage. To her untrained eye, the interior looked like a total loss.
Cody heard steps behind her and automatically moved out of the doorway, turning with the intention of apologizing for being in the way. But the apology got stuck in her throat and swallowed back down when she saw Keith, followed as always by Kendra.
“You continue to appear at places that don’t concern you.”
Cody spoke quickly, allowing herself no time to filter her words. “Since you don’t know me, I doubt you have any idea what concerns me.”
“We’re assuming,” Kendra said quickly. “Since you’re a tourist.”
“I assume nothing,” Keith said, directing a look at Kendra that was a mix of condescension and irritation.
Cody knew that sort of look very well and recognized it immediately, as well as the expression of apology and submission that flitted across Kendra’s carefully made up face.
One of the firefighters came to the doorway and Cody moved further back to allow him access.
“Mayor Naylor,” he said. “I’d offer to shake hands but I’m filthy.”
“That’s perfectly alright Captain Walters,” Kendra replied, her professionalism firmly back in place. “Have you been able to save any of our history?”
“Very little, unfortunately. Metal of course, like the old mining equipment. But anything made of material like the vintage clothing is gone. And of course everything that was paper. All the old journals and books, legal documents, ledgers, we’re not finding anything. If you get a salvage team in here they may be able to rescue something.”
“Salvage operations can be expensive,” Keith said. “I believe, Kendra, it will be simpler to declare the building a loss.”
“I believe, Kendra,” Cody said, “that insurance might cover any salvage.”
“I’m pretty sure they do,” Captain Walters said. “Especially in cases of arson.”
“Arson?” Kendra asked, catching her grandfather’s arm. “Are you sure?”
“We’ve found the ignition sight, and preliminary samples seem to confirm that. Plus, looking at how hot this fire burned inside, how fast it accelerated, those things lead us toward arson.”
“How long until you know for sure?” Kendra asked.
The man shrugged. “We should have a clear decision by this afternoon. But the place will be cordoned off until we’re done and the arson and insurance investigations are done.”
Keith patted Kendra’s hand and then removed it from his arm. “I’ll have a talk with the insurance adjustors. I’m sure they will agree to move this along in an expedient fashion.”
“Could Rachel help with salvage?” Cody asked, thinking of Rachel’s worries about her job.
“Possibly,” Kendra said. “But that will be up to the museum board of directors and how they wish to handle her position.”
“I’ll speak to them, too,” Keith said. “I seriously doubt they’ll want a suspect in an arson investigation working at the museum.”
“Suspect?” Cody asked, looking to the captain. “There’s no way she had anything to do with this fire. She was at home when it started.”
“Which means nothing,” Keith said. “Timers are common in arsons, are they not Captain
Walters?”
“Rachel would have no reason to burn the museum,” Cody said, before the captain could respond. “She loved her job and needed it.”
“We shall see,” Keith said, and while his smile was kind, his eyes were not.
Cody watched him escort Kendra, following the fire captain toward the back of the building. Could Keith seriously consider Rachel? Hopefully there were investigators who were as intelligent as Jess, and not as biased as Keith.
Worry for Rachel stayed with Cody until she was at the hospital. There had to be some way she could help Rachel, either with finding another job or keeping the museum one. Although realistically, she doubted there was much she could do in the few days left of her vacation.
Cody wanted to ask about visiting but as she reached the admitting desk she saw Rivers in the waiting room, sitting in the same chair, and wearing the same clothes.
“Has she been here the whole time?” Cody asked a woman behind the desk.
“We’ve asked her if we can get her anything, we’ve offered our showers, we’ve offered a cot, but she just shakes her head and stays there. Her friend, Mr. Russell, has been bringing her food but that’s about all she’s doing.”
Cody crossed the tiled floor and sat down gingerly as if Rivers might dissipate with the slightest breath. After a few moments, Rivers looked up from her folded hands.
“Cody.”
“Has there been any change?”
“She’s stable. She lost a lot of blood but is improving there, too. Right now she can’t talk, and the doctor can’t tell me yet if that’s going to be permanent or not. Too much swelling and bruising." Her voice caught on the last sentence and piled up around the words as if they were boulders in a creek.
“Can she have visitors?”
“No, but each time the doctor comes out he tells me, maybe.”
“Which is why you’re not leaving." Cody looked around the sterile waiting room, and imagined sitting here indefinitely.
“I don’t want her waking up and being alone." Fatigue and stress etched her face into something paler and harder and it was like Rivers was turning to stone from the inside out.
Cody studied the once elegant environmentalist and wondered how to help her. She didn’t have any experience with something like this. If staff had been asking her if they could help, and failing, how could she do any different? She straightened and felt only the slightest twinge in her injured hip. She was healing while Jess and Rivers both were still hurting. It wasn’t right.
“Rivers, I’m going to sit here and you are going to take a shower.”
“No, I can’t leave. And not just because she might wake up. What if the person who shot at her comes back? I mean, the department has a man outside her door, but what if that’s not enough?" Rivers gripped her elbows and rocked.
“They know their job. Besides, I’m not asking, I’m telling,” Cody said, hoping the nervousness in her voice wasn’t apparent. She wasn’t used to giving orders. “So stand up and get the shower over with. The sooner you do, the sooner you’ll be back at your post. I won’t budge until then. If the doctor says she can have visitors while you’re gone, I’ll get you.”
Rivers still hesitated, but she was watching Cody and there was indecision in her dark eyes.
“I said go.” Cody made her voice as firm as possible.
Rivers stood. She hesitated, looking around as if she was just waking up.
“Rivers, face it, get it over with, leave it behind.”
A slight smile brought the barest warmth to her eyes as Rivers recognized the advice she had given to Cody. But the smile was gone before Cody was sure she’d seen it.
“That suggestion will work for the shower, but nothing else,” Rivers said. “I’m facing what was done to Jess. I’m never going to get over it, and I’m certainly not going to leave it behind.”
“We’ve got the police working on that,” Cody said, hoping she sounded confident and reassuring.
“Yes, but I’ve got Jake Conrad.”