Deadly Ties (22 page)

16

D
utch drove south on Highway 331, looking for someplace to stop to eat. There wasn’t much in the way of choices this far out in the sticks at the crack of dawn. Everything he came across between the long stretches of thick and twisted pines was closed.

Finally, he spotted a mom-and-pop café with its lights on and pulled into the loose-gravel parking lot. He parked right outside the door. A red neon OPEN sign in the front window reflected off his hood.

He should call the hospital and check on Annie. Naw, he would wait. If he called and she was dead, it’d only mess up a decent meal.

He went inside and sat in a small green-vinyl booth, then ordered coffee, sausage and eggs, hash browns, and the homemade biscuits he’d smelled as soon as he walked through the door.

The waitress wasn’t much to look at, but she was efficient and that was enough, considering the hour and his mood. “Refill,” he called out, waving his cup.

Annie wouldn’t have liked that. Her face would have turned red.

He liked embarrassing Annie, not that she’d ever dare say a word, but he always knew, and that she kept her tongue still about it showed she knew who was boss. A man could never forget to remind his woman who was boss. Mayor John Green sure found out the costs of failing to do that. Now his widow had bought Dutch’s house. She’d have to find out he was the boss too. That woman was not keeping his house.

The waitress hurried over with the coffeepot and refilled his cup. “Getting an early start this morning, huh?”

“Late night,” he said, solidifying his alibi. This waitress needed to remember him. “I was up in Georgia on business and got a call from the coast that my wife had been mugged. She’s in ICU—critical, the nurse said. So I’m rushing back to see her.”

“You want your food to go, then?”

“No, I’m too upset to try to eat and drive. Safer for everyone else if I just eat and then get back on my way.”

She gave him a sympathy-laced look and touched his shoulder. “I’m so sorry for your trouble, and I hope your wife recovers. Hope they catch whoever hurt her too. People can be so mean these days.”

“They sure can.” He cast his eyes down at the table as if overcome. “She’s just got to recover. I can’t imagine life without my Annie.”

The touch on his shoulder turned to a pat. “If you need anything else, you just let me know.”

“Thank you.” She’d remember him, all right. This sympathy thing felt pretty good. After eating his meal, he called the hospital and got through to the ICU. “This is Dutch Hauk. How’s Annie?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m not at liberty to release that information.”

Rose
. Only now the good doctor’s former nurse was all business and not at all friendly. What was up with that? “Why not? She’s my wife, Rose; of course you can tell me how she is.”

“No sir, I can’t.”

He stilled. “Why not?”

“Let me transfer you to the administrator’s office, Mr. Hauk. They’ll explain. I’m not at liberty to say anything more than that, sir.”

Dutch clamped his jaw and ground his teeth. Somebody had been up to no good—probably that jerk Mark Taylor. Well, it didn’t matter. Dutch wasn’t having it. Nobody had the right to keep him uninformed about Annie. Nobody.

“Mr. Hauk?” A man came on the line.

“Yeah, who’s this?”

“This is Grant Thurman, the hospital security chief.”

“I got nothing to say to you. I want to know how my wife’s doing.”

“I’m sorry, sir. The hospital is under a court order not to release that information to you.”

“A court order?” He saw red. “Her daughter did this, didn’t she? She got a court order to keep you from telling me about my own wife?”

“Actually, no sir, Dr. Harper wasn’t in any way involved.”

“Is she there?” He reacted as would be expected, though of course he knew she was in Masson’s filthy truck on her way to hell. “Let me talk to her.”

“Dr. Harper isn’t here, sir.”

“Well then, get me somebody who can talk to me, and do it right now.”

“There is no one here who can help you, Mr. Hauk. If you want to know anything else, you’ll need to contact Detective Jeff Meyers with the Seagrove Village Police Department.”

Dutch’s blood pressure skyrocketed, setting his temples to throbbing. “Give me his number.”

“I’m sorry but I don’t have it, Mr. Hauk.”

“You have it. You can get it. Grab a phone book, man, and look it up. I’m on the road, trying to get back to see Annie.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I can’t help you. Hospital policy is explicitly clear when it comes to court orders. I’m authorized only to tell you to contact the detective.”

Dutch nearly exploded. “Thurman, right? That’s your name?”

“Yes sir.”

“Fine. I’ll deal with you when I get there.”

“It isn’t in your best interests to levy a threat against hospital security. I’ll have to report it, of course. Regardless, you can’t come to the hospital, sir.”

“Excuse me?” Dutch fisted his hand on the tabletop.

“I said you can’t come to—”

“I heard you, moron. I just can’t believe what you’re telling me.”

“I’m telling you, sir, that you can’t come within a mile of the hospital unless you’re in a life-threatening situation, and in that case, it must be your own life that is in jeopardy and you must be accompanied by a police escort.”

Dutch let out a foul stream of curses. “Thurman, you have no idea how much you’re going to regret this.”

“I’m just a working stiff doing my job, sir.” Thurman paused. “You are aware that you’ve just threatened me again, right? And that all calls into hospital security are recorded for quality assurance purposes? I’ll be contacting Detective Meyers immediately.”

“Kiss my—”

“Thank you for calling, Mr. Hauk,” Thurman interrupted him. “If I can be of further service, please let me know.”

The line went dead.

Dutch stared at the phone, too furious to even breathe.

No respect. None. Daring to treat him like this—someone was going to pay for it. They’d gotten a court order to keep him away from his own wife? Only one person would dare.

Mark Taylor
.

Dutch growled low in his throat.
Say good-bye, troublemaker. I don’t care if it costs me a million dollars. I’ll pay whatever it takes. You’re a dead man
.

“Are you okay, Lisa?” Gwen flashed the light against the side of the truck near Lisa’s head. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Lisa wasn’t sure what she’d seen. Maybe she’d imagined the whole motel-room scene. The door being knocked down, the man with the spiderweb on his hand crashing in.

“You’re worried about your mother, aren’t you?” Selene shoved her damp hair away from her face. Poured a little water in her hand and patted it against Lisa’s forehead.

“Yes. I need to be there with her.” Lisa pulled out the tube of salve. “Gwen, put this on your head before that gash gets infected.”

“You pray
and
steal?” The petite redhead took the tube. “Now that’s a surprising combination.”

Lisa grimaced. “It was an emergency. I’m a doctor and I’m seeing signs of infection. It’s my duty to help.”

“You haven’t mentioned your father.” Gwen passed Selene the flashlight. “Was theirs a messy divorce?”

“They didn’t divorce.” Oh, how she wished he were with her mother. This would be so much easier to bear. “He died when I was little.” That was her fault too. If she hadn’t begged for that roof and told him about the plight of the children in the Haitian orphanage, he wouldn’t have gone down there and fallen.

The motel room flashed in her mind. His shouts reverberated and echoed off the walls of her heart. Why couldn’t she make out what he was saying? Something exploded. Why couldn’t she see what happened in that room after that?

It must not have really happened. If it had, she would remember it. Surely something that important, she’d remember vividly.

“I’m sorry.” Selene let out a sigh. “Losing someone you love is never easy, but when you’re a child, it’s so much harder.”

Lisa tried to focus on the conversation, but the images of that room, the man rushing in, her father coming out of the shower wrapped in a towel, his scream—wait a minute. Wait. Wait …

If this was a real memory and he was there, then he hadn’t died in Haiti. He couldn’t have. She clearly saw her barrette in that room. She and her mother had made it at a craft workshop
while
her father had been in Haiti.

“See, Daddy.”

“It’s beautiful, honey.”

“Mom and I made it. It’s the only one like it in the whole world …”

He’d seen the barrette—
after Haiti
.

Confused and afraid, unable to sort it all out, she grabbed at her throbbing temples and rubbed hard. “Something’s not right.”

“A lot’s not right.” Gwen smeared the ointment on her head. “You need to be a little more specific.”

Lisa told them about seeing the tattoo on Frank’s hand, the images it had triggered in her mind. “They were so real.”

“Do you think it actually happened?” Gwen screwed the cap back on the tube of salve. “That’s a pretty big thing to forget, Lisa. Maybe your mind’s playing tricks on you.”

“Maybe.” She took the tube from Gwen and offered it to Selene. “Treat that scrape on your knee.”

Selene took it. “What happened after you screamed? Was your father still shouting?”

In her mind, Lisa heard the explosion. She involuntarily jumped, her ears ringing. Watching herself, she saw herself cover her ears with her hands, bury her face against the wall, and stare down at the floor.

“Oh no. It’s real. It happened.” A deep sob lodged in her soul broke loose and pealed, piercing her ears. “It happened.”

Selene scooted over and hugged Lisa. So did Gwen. The three of them rocked back and forth, back and forth while Lisa cried.

After long minutes, Selene asked, “What happened in that room?”

Lisa lifted her head from Gwen’s shoulder. “My dad didn’t die falling off the roof in Haiti. He was shot. A man broke into our motel room and shot him dead. He—he grabbed me and took me out—took me …” Lisa tried and tried but couldn’t remember. “I don’t know where he took me, but my dad died in that room.”

“Now I understand why you didn’t remember.” Selene smoothed Lisa’s hair and pressed her cheek against Lisa’s crown. “I’m so sorry.”

She straightened. The spiderweb. It was the same men.
Impossible. They were too young
. Ones with the same tattoo, then.
Spiders
. No wonder she had always hated them. Could these Spiders really be connected to that one, to what happened back then?

She sniffed and wiped her face with her sleeve. “The man who shot my dad had a tattoo like Frank’s.”