Anytime Darlin' (5 page)

“Uncle?” asked Shauna.

“Yes,” answered Miss Ellis, “she lives with her aunt and uncle.”

“When did you call Child Protective Services?” asked Shauna.

“The last time was just a month ago. Before that, in September, and another teacher called last spring, a few months after Devlin was admitted to our school.”

“I need her name,” said Shauna, “to get those reports.”

“She goes by Devlin, but her name is Eleanor Devlin Barre, with an
e
at the end.”

“Do you have a birth date?” asked Scott, looking up from his pad.

“I guess it would be April 13. She would have turned seventeen last April 13. So she would have been born in, what, 1963?”

“On it,” said Scott, and he strode out of the waiting room.

“You said she lived with her aunt, Miss Ellis?” prompted Mike.

“Please, call me Beth. Yes, she lives with her aunt and uncle. She transferred to our school last winter after some sort of motor vehicle accident. From what I understand, her parents, her grandparents, and her younger brother were all killed. I guess Devlin was thrown from the vehicle and survived. I think she had quite a few broken bones or something. According to school records, her aunt is her legal guardian.”

Jake suddenly realized Mary had gone absolutely silent. He turned to look at her. She was pale as a ghost. She grabbed him, her hands like ice cubes on his wrist.

“I know her,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know this girl. Oh my God. I know about the accident.”

Jake thought Mary might pass out. He put an arm around her for support, helping her to the couch. Mary struggled to sit up, but Jake held her shoulders down.

“Easy, baby, easy. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Mike, can you get some water?”

“Yeah, got it.” He jumped up and headed to the cooler.

Mike handed Jake the paper cup. Jake held Mary’s trembling hands, helping her to drink.

“What are you talking about, baby?” asked Jake, confused, “How could you possibly know anything about it? You didn’t recognize her last night.”

“That’s because I haven’t seen her in years, not since she was ten or eleven years old. She’s my youngest brother’s age. They’re friends. God, they’ve been friends since they were born, but we always called her Ellie. I’m sorry, but this just doesn’t seem possible. Let me sit up, Jake, okay? I need to sit up.”

Jake helped her to a sitting position, letting her lean against him. “Take it slow,” he said, rubbing her shoulders with his big hands. “I’m right here.”

Mary began to speak, all eyes on her. “Her grandparents owned the farm adjoining my parents’, near Treynor, Iowa. Twelve hundred acres, if memory serves. They grew corn and soybeans and raised some cattle. The farm had been in the family forever. Their names were Janelle and Gary Reynolds. They had two daughters, Catherine and Carolyn. My God, Catherine used to babysit us. Carolyn married young and moved away. I never really knew her, but Catherine stayed in Iowa. She was a professor at Grinnell College, in the Physics Department, I think, and she married Griffin Barre, a professor of medieval history. They had two kids, Devlin and, God, I can’t remember her little brother’s name, but I think he was eight, maybe, when the accident happened.

“My mom called to tell me. It was a year ago last September. The Barre family was leaving for somewhere, leaving the country, I think, on sabbatical. Gary was driving them all to the airport in Omaha when something happened. I don’t know exactly what. My mom said it wasn’t really clear. They were on the interstate bridge between Iowa and Nebraska, heading to the airport, when Gary lost control of his van. Mom said they rolled several times, hit the guardrail and flipped over, off an overpass, onto the road below. Devlin was thrown from the car before it flipped. Somehow, everyone behind them saw what happened and managed to stop in time. She ended up at Creighton University Hospital for months. The last I heard, the aunt came and got her.”

“My mom wasn’t sure where Carolyn took her, but the Reynolds’ farm wound up with a property management company, and my brother Mark leases it. He’s leased it for over a year. The accident was a terrible tragedy. The Reynolds family was an institution. Everyone thought well of them. My mom sent me all the clippings from the local newspapers, the
Omaha World-Herald
, the
Council Bluffs Nonpareil
. I may still have them at home.”

Before Shauna could get in a word, Jake asked quickly, “The aunt and uncle, what are their names?”

“I don’t know,” said Mary. “I barely knew Carolyn, and I can’t remember her married name. My mom would.”

“I know her married name,” said Beth. “It’s Franz. William and Carolyn Franz.”

“The title company Franz?” asked Shauna.

Beth looked at her. “Yes.”

Mike whistled through his teeth. “Shit.”

Then Jake asked the question they were all thinking, “Still no missing persons report?”

Shauna shook her head.

Jake had heard enough. “You can get the rest of the story. I want to see Devlin,” he said, heading to the door of the ICU.

Shauna halted him. “Hold on there, cowboy. I don’t want anything she says compromised. And I don’t want you scaring her. So, either I come with you or you don’t get within a mile of her. Am I making myself clear?”

“I want to see her now,” Jake insisted. “Look, you need to finish up with Miss Ellis and Mary. I just want to see her, sit with her. I need to know she’s okay. I won’t even talk to her until you get in there. Good enough for you?”

When Shauna hesitated, Mary spoke up. “I’ll stay with them,” she said, “and I’ll come get you if she has anything to say.”

“All right,” she agreed, “but Jake, keep it under control. And Mary, I want to see the articles. I’m sure there was an investigation.”

Jake nodded. For Devlin’s sake, he would keep it under control, for now. And then that fucking bastard better watch out.

For the first time in nearly a year, Devlin slept. She actually slept deeply enough to dream. Devlin hadn’t dreamed in months. These particular dreams were filled with visions of a man who had eyes such a deep chocolate brown that his irises melted right into his pupils. He must be an angel, she thought, watching him stride on powerful legs through her dreams, a big, beautiful, dark-haired, avenging angel. He kept the demons at bay. Her angel was real, and he had a name. Jake. Devlin remembered. She remembered everything about the past two years.

Devlin’s eyes flew open and she tore at the oxygen mask covering her mouth and nose, panic-stricken. She had no idea how long she’d been asleep, whether or not someone had already identified her, or if
he
knew where to find her. Maybe
he
was out there right now, smiling, nodding his head with concern and convincing the doctors that she was just another troubled teenage runaway. That she’d been nothing but trouble since the day she arrived in Denver. Devlin’s heart pounded in her chest as she scanned the room for any sign of his presence. There was nothing. The faint lights from the beeping monitor illuminated an empty room. Devlin sighed with relief and lay back on the pillow, coughing hard as she did so. She felt a sharp jolt of pain in her ribs with each cough.

One of the nurses entered through the open door. Noticing that Devlin was awake, she handed her an extra pillow. “Here, sweetie, hold this over your abdomen, like this, when you cough. It will help to stabilize your ribs and decrease that pain you’re feeling.” She showed Devlin how to use the pillow as a splint.

She pulled the stethoscope from around her neck and instructed Devlin to lean forward so she could listen to her lungs.

Apparently she didn’t like what she heard because she said, “Cough for me,” and then, “A little better.” She popped a rechargeable thermometer under Devlin’s tongue and, while she was waiting for the temp, pulled a blood pressure cuff from the wall and wrapped it around Devlin’s left arm. The right arm had an IV going with what looked like an antibiotic piggyback hooked in via a separate IV pump. Devlin knew what a piggyback was. She’d had more than her share of IV piggybacks during her three-month stay in the hospital after the accident.

“Pressure’s one hundred over sixty,” the nurse commented, “and your temp’s down to 100.3. Good job, girl. You feeling better?”

“Better is a relative term,” replied Devlin. “I guess I’m feeling better, but I kind of don’t remember everything. How long have I been here?”

“You came in early yesterday morning. You’ve been pretty out of it since then. It’s almost 9 a.m. I’m Amy, by the way, your nurse for today, and you are?”

“I already knew that.” Amy laughed. “It’s okay. I get it. It seems like you’ve been through a lot these past few days, but let’s hope things will get better from here on out.”

Despite her fear, Devlin smiled back. It was hard not to when Amy had such an infectious laugh. Devlin remembered the title of a book on her mom’s bedside table,
Been Down So Long It Looks Like Up to Me
. Her mom never found the time to read it. Somehow, Devlin didn’t think things were going to be looking up anytime soon, but right now was right now. Right now could be a whole lot worse. At least Amy didn’t know her last name, which meant the police didn’t either.

“What do I have?” Devlin asked. “Pneumonia?”

“According to the chest X-ray, yes, you do, among other things. But, you’re young. You’ll bounce back quickly.”

Devlin blushed as she asked the next question. “Um, do I have a Foley catheter in?”

“Yeah, why? Is it uncomfortable?”

“A little,” replied Devlin. “Would you mind taking it out? I know I’m weak, and it might be hard to walk to the bathroom, but I really want it out. Now.”

Devlin had had enough of catheters. When she’d been hospitalized after the accident, before she was able to walk again, she’d harassed the nurses into getting an order from her doctor to remove the catheter. On occasion, when the nurses were busy with other patients, Devlin had to roll out of bed onto the floor and drag herself to the bathroom with her arms, but that was better than a catheter. Just the thought made her feel helpless and dependent, especially now. You couldn’t run away from someone with a catheter bag slung over your arm.

“I’ll need to call Dr. Walters for an order, and it’s kind of early. He doesn’t usually do rounds until afternoon.”

“Can you please, or can you just take it out and tell him I pulled it out? Because I really want it out right now. In fact,” Devlin added hopefully, “if you hand me your scissors, I can deflate the balloon, and then you don’t even have to be involved.”

Amy looked Devlin over. “You know too much, little girl,” she said, rolling her eyes. “All right, I’ll tell him you threatened to remove it yourself, so I was forced to assist you. Anything else, princess?”

Devlin laughed without thinking, though her laughter ended in a coughing fit. “Yes,” she was surprised to hear herself say when she finally stopped coughing, “I would love some French fries with lots of ketchup and a Coke!”

Twenty minutes later, Devlin sat on a plastic stool in the shower, letting the hot water run over her aching body. When Amy had been nice enough to walk her into the bathroom, Devlin had taken advantage of her brief solitude to clamp off her IV line and detach herself from the pumps, tossing the two lines over the hooks and shutting the pumps off before the alarm mode kicked in. The trick was to depress the power button until the pump beeped once and the backlight switched off.

When Amy checked on her, she said, “Your name isn’t Devlin. It’s Devil Child. Where did you learn how to do that? You are gonna get me in a world of trouble.”

Devlin grinned at her and asked for some soap, shampoo, a toothbrush, and some toothpaste. And two gowns, the second to wear across her back so her rear end wasn’t open to air. Amy obliged her, then pulled in a plastic chair and sat down to supervise.

“I do have other patients, you know,” she teased Devlin.

Devlin merely sighed and inhaled as much steam as she could.

“You don’t need to do this right now. I can give you a bed bath.”

“It’s not the same,” replied Devlin with a cough, and then she hesitated. “I have to do this. I can’t…I have to wash him off me.” She glanced at Amy. “Do you understand?”

Amy looked away for a second and cleared her throat. Rising from her chair, she pulled Devlin’s wet hair away from her face, water splattering over her green scrubs and her white leather shoes.

“Let me give you a hand,” she said, her voice quavering ever so slightly. “Somebody needs to work on these tangles.”

Jake could feel himself burn with inner rage as he and Mary waited for the elevator. In his book, anybody who hurt a woman, a child, or an animal didn’t deserve to live. He ached with the need to beat William Franz to a bloody pulp. Because he knew, without a doubt, that her uncle had done this. Of course she wouldn’t give her name. The ER would have called him without realizing what they would be doing to her. He winced as he thought of the danger she would have been in had she identified herself. The danger she was in even now. She’d had to live with him for a year. Jake shuddered. He’d already decided that the son of a bitch wouldn’t get anywhere near her. He’d kill him first.

Mary laid a hand firmly on his arm. “Like Shauna said, you need to keep it under control.”

Jake grunted in reply as the elevator doors opened.

“What do you know about this?” he asked, keeping his voice as even as possible. “I want to know everything you know about her.”

Mary sighed, and as the elevator doors closed behind them, she was in Jake’s arms, shaking.

“Page Ken,” she whispered. “I want Ken.”

* * * *

Ken met them in the ICU waiting room. Mary sobbed in his arms as Jake filled him in.

“Son of a bitch,” was his response, and he tightened his hold on Mary, “Honey, I think I should take you home. I know you want to do something, but you’re upset. It’s not good for you or the baby.”

“No.” Mary wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand. “I need to see her. I need to apologize and find out what I can do to help.”