The First Victim (6 page)

The “coffee shop” in the tiny hospital was really just a small room with two tables, plastic chairs and a couple of vending machines. Having conferred with her father’s physician, a somber woman, Doctor Wyatt, Emily now had a better picture of her father’s condition. After explaining that Donald Wright had multiple broken bones and severe burns over much of his body, the doctor had said as gently as possible that his chances of recovery were significantly less than fifty-fifty. The burns made him vulnerable to infection and the impact of the explosion had damaged both his spleen and kidneys. He’d been unconscious since the accident and the doctor couldn’t say whether he’d ever wake up.

Emily had nodded her understanding and thanked Doctor Wyatt for her time. Now she paced in front of the vending machines searching for a food fix to temporarily make herself feel better. She had no fantasies about a tearful family reunion or a deathbed request for forgiveness. He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong.

On the surface he hadn’t. Logically she knew that others had grown up with far less than her. He’d provided the basics, a roof over her head and food in the fridge. He’d never beaten or molested her. And yet, he’d failed her in the most basic ways when she’d needed him most.

She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the age-old resentments that festered in her psyche like an infection. She’d worked too hard to pull herself out of that contaminated pit of despair to let this turn of events open up old wounds.

“I should have never answered Bailey’s call.” It was his fault that she found herself in this position.

Realizing she’d muttered the words aloud, she glanced around the room to see if anyone had heard her talking to herself. Relieved to discover she was all alone, she turned her attention back to her snack selection. She wasn’t really hungry, just looking for something to occupy her time. She scowled at her choices as though they were the reason she was so out of sorts.

“They don’t have corn chips.”

Whirling around, Emily faced Bailey O’Neil.

Hands on hips, a ghost of a smile haunting the corners of his mouth, he watched her carefully.

Simultaneously they said, “I’m sorry.”

“You…” he said.

“…first,” she finished.

Bailey threw his head back laughing, the sound echoing off the linoleum. He smiled down at her, instantaneously transforming him from the solemn man who stood before her to the boy she’d known. Now, just like then, he took her breath away, and she found herself grinning back at him like a lovesick fool.

“Ladies first.”

Taking a much-needed deep breath, she blurted out, “I’m sorry about your father.”

His amusement evaporated as quickly as it had appeared. “Thanks. I’m here to sign the paperwork to claim his body.”

She did her best to ignore the pang of longing that tugged at her triggered by the change in his expression. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Figured you had enough on your plate. No reason to trouble you with my burdens.”

Feeling guilty for not asking him what had been wrong the night before, she said quietly, “I thought we were friends.”

“And I thought we were friends a long time ago.”

Unwilling to acknowledge how much the shift in the status of their relationship bothered her, she nodded emphatically. “Yes, of course. You’re absolutely right. ‘Were friends’ past tense. No longer friends. Just acquaintances with a shared history.”

“I didn’t mean…I just know how tough it is for you to come back.” Crossing his arms across his chest, he frowned at her, his exasperation clear. As though focusing on her for the first time, his gaze softened. “You look like hell.”

“Gee, thanks. You really know how to make a gal feel good.”

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

The memory of the nightmare made her palm itch. She avoided the question. “You don’t look so hot yourself you know.”

Bowing his head in agreement, he murmured, almost too softly for her to hear, “I drank too much last night.”

Stepping forward to close the gap between them, she tentatively reached out in a feeble attempt to comfort him. Moving with unexpected speed, he captured her hand, startling her. Before she could protest or pull away, he pressed her fingers over his heart, trapping her there.

Her own pulse had quickened at his touch, but his heartbeat was strong and steady. Tilting her head back, she looked into his familiar green eyes. He was staring at her with an intensity she didn’t understand. A flicker of alarm scooted up the base of her spine, and again she held her breath.

“I’m sorry, Em.”

“For what?”

Leaning closer so that she could feel his breath on her cheek, he whispered, “For kissing you last night.”

“You were upset.”

“That’s no excuse. I took advantage of you. You were scared enough without me manhandling you.”

Deciding it probably wasn’t the best idea to confess that she’d enjoyed being taken advantage of, she squeaked, “I wasn’t scared.”

“You threatened me with a rock and stick. You were terrified.”

“That was Bambi’s fault. If—”

“Who?”

“Bambi. The deer. It was just adrenaline from the car crash.”

His disbelief evident, he just smiled at her weak excuse. Lifting her hand from his heart to his lips, he pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles, before letting go.

Snatching away her hand, she childishly hid it behind her back.

Bailey put some distance between them. “How’s your dad doing?”

“He’s still unconscious. Laurie’s with him now.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Unwilling to meet the challenge in his eyes, she turned around to once again face the vending machines.

“The doctor’s not giving him the best odds. Can you tell me what happened to him?”

She watched Bailey’s distorted reflection in the glass of the snack dispenser. He shrugged. “We haven’t finished our investigation, so I can only tell you what I’ve heard. There were a couple of fishermen out on the lake. According to them, it looked like the boat’s motor stalled and when your father tried to restart it, there was some kind of explosion and everything went up in flames.”

She turned to face him as he spoke.

“According to the witnesses, a second explosion threw your father from the boat.” Bailey hesitated for a moment before continuing. “Guys who fished him out of the water thought he was dead. They thought it was a miracle he survived.”

“Still no guarantees that’ll happen,” she muttered.

“How are you holding up, Em?”

She knew that he really wanted to know how she was dealing with her father’s condition, but she was unwilling to even answer that question for herself. She wasn’t about to reveal her feelings about it to anyone else. “Are you asking me in an official capacity, Deputy O’Neil?”

“I was asking as a friend.”

Feeling backed into a corner by his concern, she didn’t hesitate to parrot his earlier words. “But as you pointed out, we’re no longer friends.”

An uncomfortable quiet stretched between them. Squaring her shoulders, she stayed stubbornly silent.

“I’ve got to get that paperwork done.”

She nodded, unwilling to trust herself to speak.

“Despite the circumstances, it was good to see you, Em.”

“You too.”

He’d already left the confines of the tiny cafeteria when she spun around to ask, “Bailey?”

He turned to face her.

“Did you send me flowers?”

Shaking his head, he offered her a sad smile. “Not me. Must be one of your other admirers.”

She watched him walk away, shoulders hunched, hands jammed into his pockets. Nothing was ever easy with Bailey. Every encounter seemed to reverberate with a tension that usually resulted in at least one of them walking away mad.

Turning back to the vending machines, she dug into the pocket of her jeans for change, plunked it in and bought a package of pretzel twists and a cup of faux cappuccino. She would have preferred to leave the coffee shop, but she’d promised Laurie that she’d wait for her here. Laurie had already huffed her annoyance when Emily refused to enter their father’s hospital room. Emily didn’t want to risk elevating the teenager’s wrath.

It probably would have been simpler to just stroll into his room, murmur all the “right” things and pretend that everything was okay. It was precisely the kind of thing he’d have done if the situation had been reversed. In fact, he’d done exactly that when she’d been recovering from her abduction. She blinked away tears as she remembered how much she’d needed his genuine love and support, and how much it had hurt that he’d been unable or unwilling to give it to her. When she’d wanted a hug and his assurances that everything would be okay, all he’d been able to give her was a story about a case he’d once handled. Maybe he’d thought that he was reassuring her, that like the woman he told her about, she’d be okay too, but all she gotten from it was the distinct impression that he cared more about his patients than his own daughter.

Sliding into a seat at the table with the best view of the doorway, she surveyed her mini-feast. Bailey was right. She would have preferred corn chips. Funny that he still remembered what her favorite treat was after all these years. Then again, she remembered that he’d always had a soft spot for chocolate-covered raisins. Strange the things that stuck in someone’s memory.

She sipped her coffee. It was sickeningly sweet.

Laurie burst in. “They kicked me out!”

“Doctor Wyatt told you they were going to be running tests.”

“I want to go home.” Without waiting for a reply, Laurie spun on her heel, racing toward the hospital’s exit.

Emily took a deep breath. Exhaling slowly, she silently counted to ten. The situation was difficult enough; she couldn’t afford to let the teenage girl get under her skin. Unrushed, she got to her feet. On the way out of the coffee shop, she dropped the vile drink in the garbage. Wrestling with the uncooperative packaging of the bag of pretzels, she followed her sister out to the parking lot. Laurie made a beeline for the car Emily had borrowed from Mark Castle, glancing over her shoulder repeatedly as though Emily was making her late for an important appointment.

“Emily? Emily Wright?” a male voice called out.

Turning in the direction of the man, Emily had to raise her hand to shield her eyes against the sun. Blinded by the light, she couldn’t make out his face as he approached.

“Welcome home.”

Welcome home. That was what the note with the flowers left outside her room at The Garden Gate had said. Two small words. Innocuous maybe, but no longer innocent in Emily’s mind. Now the phrase was just a bit creepy. His voice seemed familiar, but she couldn’t quite place who it belonged to. Squinting into the sun as she was, she couldn’t identify his face either. The tension in her gut coiled tighter and tighter the closer he got.

He closed the last couple of yards between them with effortless strides. Her grip on the car keys tightened.

“You probably don’t even remember who I am, let alone recognize me. I’m Evan. Evan Swann.”

Evan Swann.

Memories of her abduction came rushing at her, assaulting her with their intensity. The pain. The fear. The cold. The dark. The feelings bulldozed through her defenses, blindsiding her. Buffeted by the attack she took a step backward.

A cold chill spread through her, her scarred palm ached as though it had been freshly sliced open and her lungs burned as she forgot to breathe. She swayed unsteadily, as everything around her grew dark despite the relentless sun beating down. She backed away from the man who stood before her, retreating from the memories he’d reawakened. She raised her hands in front of her as though to ward off an attack.

A high-pitched tinny tone fluttered at the edge of her consciousness. It took her a moment to realize it was a voice. It was words. She struggled to hear them over the pounding of her heart.

“Emily, are you coming? Emily, are you okay?”

Laurie.

Laurie was talking to her. But how could that be? Laurie was just a baby. She couldn’t talk yet.

“Earth to Emily.”

Emily blinked, realizing where she was, realizing when it was. She was in the wide-open hospital parking lot, not imprisoned in that dark, dank basement. She was a grown woman, not a scared girl.

Lowering her hands, she forced herself to smile at her sister. “I’m fine. Just a little light-headed.”

Laurie rolled her eyes, muttering, “Freak.” Before she walked away.

Emily shrugged apologetically at Evan Swann. “Sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

The smile he gave her in return was cautious, but she still recognized its jaunty angle. He watched her carefully as though he knew he’d been responsible for frightening her. His concern made her uncomfortable.

She blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “You shaved. I didn’t recognize you.” It was only half a lie.

He chuckled, running a hand over his smooth chin. “I haven’t had a beard since high school. Left this town and my rebel ways far behind.”

She smiled. It would appear he truly had. These days Evan Swann in his khakis and polo shirt looked more like a soccer dad than the boy voted Most Likely to be Incarcerated.

“I brought you the registration and insurance card for your car so that you can file a claim.” He handed her a white envelope with the Swann’s Garage logo printed in the upper left-hand corner.

“Thank you, Evan. I would have come by to pick it up.”

“Thought I’d save you the trip. Besides, I was coming here anyway to visit my dad.”

“How’d you know I was going to be here?”

“Last night when Bailey called to bark an order at me to tow your wreck in, he said that he’d taken you straight to The Garden Gate. Since you didn’t come here last night, I figured there was a good chance you’d be here now.”

Emily nodded. That made sense.

“You scared the hell out of him.”

“What?”

“Bailey, you scared the hell out of him. Not like Mr. Tough Guy to be shaken up like that. Said he knew it was your car the second he laid eyes on it, and he thought he’d be pulling your body from the wreckage.”