Old Chaos (9781564747136) (13 page)

Rob lay on a gurney with his eyes shut, so still that Meg felt a stab of pure terror. She must have gasped, because his eyes flickered open, and he turned his head.

“Hi. I guess Charlie called you.”

“He did. I brought clothes. How do you feel?” She kissed Rob’s forehead and felt grit on her lips. Someone had swabbed his face and hands, but he was remarkably dirty, covered in a coat of pale dust, his hair dim with volcanic ash. He wore a hospital gown, and a blanket covered him.

“I’ll feel dopey but numb when the morphine kicks in.”

“Morphine! What have you done to yourself?”

“Bad boy!” he mocked.

She was almost in tears. “What happened?”

“I bent down to lift a two-by-four and froze in place. Couldn’t straighten up. Jeff and the rescue people carried me to a patrol car, and Thayer drove in with me lying sideways in the back seat. We have to do a better job of cleaning those cars. Smelled like vomit.”

“You
are
doped.”

“Some. Stuff to dissolve the bruise, muscle relaxants, or I wouldn’t be lying on my back—”

“What bruise?”

“On my shoulders. It’s a long story. What’s going on, Meg? Everybody’s tiptoeing around.”

Oh God, he doesn’t know.

“It’s Mack, isn’t it?” His eyes, direct and gray, held hers.

“I’m so sorry, love. He died about half an hour ago, on the operating table.”

“Jesus!” His eyes clenched shut.

Meg took his hand, which was superficially clean but battered, cut, and bruised. She didn’t say anything, and neither did Rob, for a long time. At last he sighed and scrubbed at his eyes with his free hand. “Well, it was in the cards. He looked bad when we found him.”

“We?”

“Linda heard the baby. Jake brought the car jack. We got the baby out first, then Mack.”

Meg had the feeling that wasn’t the whole story.

His frown deepened. “Who’s with Beth?”

“Their kids. I didn’t intrude.”

“That’s good. What about Peggy?”

“I don’t know, Rob. I’m sorry.”

He brooded. “Charlie told me about Kayla.”

“It’s so sad. He’s really torn up. I hope—” She broke off. She was going to say that she hoped the injuries wouldn’t destroy Kayla’s wonderful confidence, and perhaps Rob read her mind.

“She’s going to be very upset that she couldn’t save her patient. That will matter to her.”

And her appearance won’t? Meg didn’t say anything.

He went on, “She’s not as superficial as she seems. I hope Charlie’s smart enough to see that.”

If Rob felt protective of Kayla, Meg found that she had a strong need to defend Charlie. “And maybe he’s not as besotted as
he
seems.”

A smile tugged at his mouth. “Hey, lady, will you take me home?”

“They’re not going to admit you?”

“Not if I have any say in the matter.”

My home or yours? “The question is, do you want to lie for three days upstairs on my bed, or downstairs on the wonderful hide-a-bed?”

“Three days?”

“I once ruined my back lifting book cartons. The doctor made me lie flat for seventy-two interminable hours.”

“Let’s hope some magic pill shortens the sentence. I have a lot to do.”

“And I didn’t? Lucy was twelve when I threw out my back. She was in love with the pool maintenance guy at our apartment complex.” Lucy was her daughter, a Stanford freshman. “That was before she took up physics.”

He said very seriously, “I love you, Meg.”

She felt tears rise again. She kissed him, this time on the mouth.

A care-giver bustled in. “I’m supposed to bathe you, Mr. Erm. Can’t do it out here in the corridor.”

Face burning, Meg scuttled away from the gurney. She had been raised to avoid public displays of emotion.

“Not a bath,” Rob said. “A shower.” The tips of his ears showed red through the caked ash.

The aide was a big woman with a stubborn jaw. Meg observed the power struggle. Somebody showed up with the clothes Meg had brought. A volunteer came bearing a plastic bag with Rob’s dirty belongings. Passersby gawked. It was a good show but no contest. Meg was unsurprised when Rob emerged from the shower room, clean, clothed, and almost upright.

The defeated aide slung him onto the empty bed nearest the shower room. Rob didn’t look great, and he moved with effort, but he was a lot cleaner. He was still unshaven. At least his beard wasn’t orange. The care-giver flounced off to report to her supervisor.

“Ah, there you are, Robert!” An elderly man with round glasses and a hearing aid sidled into the room.

“Judge Rosen. Why…I could have sent someone for the warrants.” Rob struggled to sit up.

The judge made shooing motions with his small, neat hands. “Lie down. I talked to your sergeant. When he told me they’d taken you to the hospital, I came to see how you were doing. Well, from the look of things.” His eyes twinkled. “This lady must be our new librarian.” He held out his hand. “Nate Rosen, Ms. McLean.”

“Your Honor.” Meg shook hands.

“May I welcome you somewhat belatedly to our little community? We’re fortunate to have so many talented people coming to us from California.”

That was so kind, Meg almost burst into tears. She was also struck dumb. When local people heard she was from California, cold silence usually ensued—if they were polite.

Judge Rosen turned back to Rob. “I need hardly say the warrants should be executed as soon as possible.”

“I can’t call my sergeant till I’m released. No cell phones allowed in these rooms.”

“Shall I call him for you?”

Rob frowned and glanced at Meg. “We need to confer.”

“I’ll go stand in the hall,” Meg said.

He dug out the keys Meg had found among his dirty clothes—in a sealable bag with his wallet. “When you said you’d take me home, Meg, you meant to your house. Right?”

“Yes. You can’t stay in that huge place of yours alone, Rob. Do not even consider it.”

He smiled. “Thanks, I won’t. It occurred to me while I was under the shower that Beth might as well use my house. She needs a home base and space for all those grandkids.”

“What a great idea! She told me they haven’t sold the house in town yet, but it can’t have much furniture.”

“You’re sure you won’t mind?” He held up the house key with the others dangling.

“Don’t be insulting.” She took the keys, kissed his nose, and turned to Judge Rosen. “I hope to see you again under less trying conditions.”

The judge made polite sounds, but his mind was clearly on his search warrants.

Meg left the room at a gallop. Waiting for the elevator calmed her enthusiasm. She hadn’t spoken to any of the McCormicks yet, least of all Beth, and she dreaded the encounter. What on earth could she say? She’d had no time to know the sheriff, really, and what she knew she didn’t always like. It was too late to know him better.

The group outside Beth’s room had swollen to at least a dozen, half of them children, everybody crying.

Meg touched the nearest woman’s arm. “Are you one of Beth’s daughters?”

She sniffed. “I’m Danielle. Dany. If you’re a reporter—”

“No, no, nothing like that. I’m Meg McLean. Rob Neill sent me up with the key to his house. He says you should use the place as long as you need to.” She detached the key from the chain.

“The Guthrie house? Wow!” Dany had auburn hair and the sheriff’s expressive mouth. She gave a shriek. “Hey, guys, Rob wants to lend us his house. Isn’t that great!”

“There should be room for everybody.” Meg wasn’t sure of that. There were a lot of McCormicks. Still, Rob’s Victorian had five bedrooms upstairs and one down, if you counted his office.

Everyone crowded around her, saying appreciative things and even smiling, and Meg started to relax a little.

“We can be together!” A dark man with Beth’s eyes took Meg’s hand. “Thanks. I’m John. Why didn’t Rob come up himself?”

Meg explained.

John McCormick clucked his tongue. “I hope the back problem’s not serious. We owe him a lot.”

“Mom’s life, for one thing.” Dany’s mouth trembled. “And he tried to save Dad.”

“He did save Sophy.” A ten-year-old girl grabbed Dany’s elbow. “Sophy’s going to be okay. You said so.”

“Yes, she is, honey. I promise. Skip just took her off where it’s quieter. She’s fine.”

“My grandpa died,” the girl said to Meg.

“I’m very sorry,” Meg said. “He was a good man. You should be proud of him.”

“I am. I’m Beatie.” She held out her hand.

Meg shook it. “I’m Meg.”

The child considered. “Megan?”

“Margaret.”

“Like Peggy.”

“That’s right.” Meg looked at Dany. “How is your sister doing?”

Dany’s face clouded. “Still unconscious. They have her in Intensive Care, but they think she’ll come out of the coma eventually.”

“That’s good. Er, your mother—”

“She’s sleeping.”

“Not with all this racket going on.” A nurse emerged from the room, scowling. “Off to the waiting room with you. Shoo!” She herded them down the hallway. After listening to a chorus of thanks, Meg made a graceful escape without seeing Beth. When she returned to the emergency area, Rob was sitting in a wheelchair with his sack of dirty laundry in his lap.

“Let’s get out of here.”

“What about the MRI?”

“I’m lucky I didn’t herniate a bunch of discs. Some are bulging, but I should heal if I lie still—”

“For seventy-two hours,” they said with one voice.

A care-giver appeared with documents, which Rob signed, while Meg ran out to the car and drove it to the entrance. He was wheeled to the car door and decanted with only a few groans. She fastened his seat belt, and he handed her a sheaf of papers.

“Prescriptions?”

“Painkillers, blood thinners, muscle relaxants.”

“Sounds lethal. I’ll fill them when you’re on your back again.” She drove home cautiously.

Two hours later, she returned from rearranging her own schedule, filling Rob’s prescriptions, and tidying his house, where she ran into a sortie of McCormicks with suitcases. She locked Rob’s home office because of the computer and left everything else to fate and chance.

When she returned, Rob lay on the hide-a-bed in conference with Jeff Fong and Jake Sorenson, who had seized the business records from Drinkwater’s office and were about to go out to his house. Drinkwater was still missing. The department had issued an APB, and Rob was asking for an arrest warrant—he was emphatically still on duty. At least he was lying down. Flat.

Meg left the deputies to it and went off to the kitchen to cook. The phone rang as she was mixing biscuits. When caller ID showed Earl Minetti’s name, she was tempted not to answer.

Minetti was brusque but not quite rude. He asked for Rob. She took the phone to the living room—Rob’s cell phone sat on her counter recharging—and handed it to him. “It’s the undersheriff.”

“Neill,” Rob said, just as brusque as his new boss.

“Yeah, I’m under doctor’s orders to lie still for three days. You are? When? All right. No, Drinkwater hasn’t responded. I started leaving messages for him before seven this morning. Must be out of town.”

Minetti’s voice went on at length.

Rob kept his face impassive. Meg had never heard him criticize Minetti in front of a department member. “Yes, sure, Earl. I’ll do what I can. Right.” He hit the Off button and handed Meg the phone. “Thanks. Earl is going to call in state investigators in the morning.” That must have felt like a slap in the face.

Jeff and Jake groaned. One of them said, “Fuck.”

“In the cards,” Rob said without emotion. “The staties will take the Drinkwater case file, so copy it. See what you can find in his records by tomorrow. Look for evidence that somebody did him a large favor.”

“Who?” Jeff asked. He looked puzzled.

Rob closed his eyes. He was gray in the face and not from ash. “A familiar name,” he said heavily. “Somebody in county government. We can hope it was Hal Brandstetter.” Commissioner Brandstetter was safely dead.

Jeff glanced at Meg.

Rob said, “And in case you’re wondering, I swore Meg in as a reserve deputy last fall, remember?”

Jeff and Jake nodded.

“My lips are sealed.” Meg spoke lightly but she meant it.

“Call Linda in and that kid Corky has working for him, the computer nerd. And Jake—”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t work all night. You had a heavy morning.”

Jake said, “I’m not tired.”

“Liar.”

Meg was fond of Jake. His sister drove the bookmobile. He was technically in the uniform branch, but Rob borrowed him a lot. Now he looked more than tired. They had found the rest of the Gautier family—crushed and smothered in their beds—about the time Rob’s back gave out.

Rob turned to Jeff. “You can use my office in the annex. Play this by the book every step of the way. I want a golden chain of evidence.”

Jeff said, “What if Minetti sticks his nose in?”

“He won’t. He’s got other things to do. If he asks, tell him the truth. You have the records. You got them properly. You’re preparing them for the state boys.”

When the phone in Meg’s hand rang, she almost dropped it. “Hello?”

“Meg, it’s Beth McCormick.”

“Oh, my dear, how are you? I’m so sorry about Mack.”

“Thank you.” Beth sounded as if she were speaking from the far end of a long, hollow tube. “I need to talk to Rob. Is he there?”

Puzzled, Meg handed him the phone. “It’s Beth.”

He took a long breath. “Hi, Beth. Not a problem. You’re welcome to use the house as long as you like. Skip and the baby will want to be near Peggy, too. I’ll drop by for underwear from time to time when I’m allowed to move again. Oh. Okay. What, she what?” He sat bolt upright. “Ouch. Jesus, yes! The woman’s a genius, and I damn near didn’t vote for her.”

Beth’s voice went on for some time. She sounded agitated. Meg, Jake, and Jeff stared at Rob. A healthy color touched his cheekbones, and his eyes sparkled.

At last he said, “I do not have a single doubt, Elizabeth. And you’ll have help. Yes, well, you have more experience than he does, by a long shot. Remember that. If he gives you guff, I’ll break his legs. Good-bye, honey. Thanks for telling me.” He pushed the Off button and collapsed onto the pillows.