Critical Impact (5 page)

“I'm sorry, Marg,” Anna finally said, feeling tired. “I think I've told you everything I know.”

Marg shook her head. “I don't think you've quite told me everything,” Marg said, backing away, “but that's okay. I know you have things on your mind. You and my Johnny are both survivors in this.”

Anna nodded, dumbfounded at Marg's words.

After Lois and Marg left, Catherine said, “Well, that was a whirlwind few minutes. I wonder what she was going on about. Now you just stay there. I'm going to wash your hair.”

Her mother headed out to the hallway and came back shortly with a nurse and a large metal washbasin and a bottle of baby shampoo. The nurse closed the curtains around Anna's bed, then laid her bed flat and helped Anna scoot up so that her head was leaning over the end. With a cup, her mother poured the warm water over Anna's head. It felt so good.

“My goodness,” Catherine said after the nurse left. “There are still grass bits in your hair. And dirt.”

“I must look terrible.”

“You never look terrible,” her mother said.

While her mother massaged the baby shampoo into her scalp, she said, “I'm worried about my sister.”

“Aunt Lois?” Anna asked.

“She's gotten so close to Marg and that worries me.”

“What's wrong with Marg?”

“I'm not really sure, but I think it has something to do with her church.”

“What about her church?”

“She's quit the Whisper Lake Crossing Church, the one that you and I go to, and a few months ago started going to church with Marg. Since that time things have been different.”

“What do you mean different?”

Her mother's hands became still on her wet head.

“My sister. She's always picked up strays.” There was another long pause. “But it's not always in a good way. It almost becomes her Christian duty. But some times I fear she doesn't look at people as people but as projects, things to accomplish. I think she's looking at Marg that way now.”

“What kind of a project is Marg?”

“I don't know her well. Lois hasn't told me much. I haven't asked. But Marg seems angry. And this was way before her husband was injured.”

Her mother was drying her hair with a white towel. It felt so good to be clean.

“If you ask me,” Catherine said, “there's entirely too much talk about evil in that church of theirs. They're on this big campaign about evil. I don't really understand it at all.”

“Does Johnny go to that church, too?”

“I don't think so. I don't think he goes anywhere.”

“That's too bad.”

Catherine said, “I asked Lois once if I could go to church with her. I just wanted to see what was going on there. And she said no. It was a closed church.”

“Really? A closed church? What kind of a church is that? I've never heard of such a thing.”

“I hadn't, either.”

Her mother stayed a little longer. They talked fashion while Anna flipped through magazines.

After her mother left, Anna tried not to think about her situation. Yet she couldn't help worrying about it. How could she expect her mother to wash her hair all the time? Would she ever get the use of her hand back?
Had God forgotten her?

Midway through the afternoon, she heard Marg in the hallway. She lifted her head from the pillow. She recognized the woman's raspy voice. She was talking to a man, someone Anna didn't recognize.

She heard Marg ask, “And what's going to happen? What are your big plans now?”

And then the male voice answered in response, “It's being taken care of as we speak. There is nothing to worry about.”

Anna laid her head back down on her pillow.
It's being taken care of?
What was being taken care of? Did this have something to do with what happened at City Hall?

L
orraine Jonas, Hilary's mother, lived at 51 Rimshot Road. It was a small, detached bungalow, white with faded salmon-pink shutters. A porch, which looked like an add-on, took up the entire front of the house. A couple of Cape Cod chairs faced front and looked badly in need of paint and repair.

A diminutive woman with shaggy gray-brown hair and massive thick glasses answered the door. When Stu and Liz identified themselves, the woman sighed deeply.

She opened the door without a word, and they followed her into her front room. Despite the fact that the outside world was awash in autumn sun, the blinds were drawn and the air inside the house was thick and stale. A ratty green recliner faced a small flat-screen TV and beside the chair was a rickety metal TV tray with half a cup of coffee, a plate of toast crumbs and another pair of glasses. The television was tuned to
a midday talk show. The occasional laughter seemed out of place.

“I don't know why the police keep coming,” she said. “I've already talked with everyone. They already looked at her room and took her computer. I don't know what more there is.”

Lorraine remained standing. So did Stu and Liz. Liz said, “We are as concerned as you are about finding out who did this.”

“I don't know who would want to hurt her.”

“That's why we're here,” Stu said.

Stu removed the blog sheets from a folder and handed them to Lorraine.

She glanced at them. “What are these?”

“Hilary wrote an online blog. In it she wrote about being threatened and stalked.”

Lorraine handed the sheets back to Stu. “I don't know nothing about that. I don't know nothing about computers. The other policemen who came took her computer. Took all her stuff. Good stuff, too. Said I would get it back. Haven't heard a thing.” Her hands were shaky.

Liz continued, “Did Hilary give any indication that she was being threatened? Do you know if she was afraid of someone?” Liz handed her another sheet, which Lorraine promptly turned over. It was plain to see that she didn't want to read it.

She said, “I don't know. She never told me.”

Stu said, “So you have no idea who she was writing about?”

“I know she talked about her beauty school teacher.”

Stu looked down at her sharply. “Her beauty school teacher?”

Lorraine nodded. “She wasn't too happy there. That could've been who she was writing about.”

Liz gave Stu a look. “What makes you say that?” Stu asked.

Lorraine ran a gnarled hand through her bushy hair. “She never liked that lady much. Said she worked them too hard, was unfair and played favorites.”

“How was Hilary doing in class?” Liz said.

“Not so good. She didn't tell me much, wouldn't tell me much, but what she did say was that she had doubts about their latest little project—the mock disaster. And see? She was right, wasn't she? She was afraid. It killed her in the end.”

“Why was she afraid?” Liz asked.

“She just was.” Lorraine paused a bit before she said, “I know that Hilary had no use for the mayor. That's for sure.”

Stu asked, “Why not?”

“He made a pass at her. She rejected him and he has belittled her ever since. But that seems to be a habit with the mayor of Whisper Lake Crossing. I told the Shawnigan police all this, but they didn't put much stock into it.”

“But why was she afraid of him?” Stu asked.

“I don't know why you're asking me this. I told the other cops all this. They even tape-recorded it.”

Stu said, “We need to hear it again.”

Lorraine went through what sounded like a well-rehearsed speech. She said that two years ago, Hilary had moved back home to Shawnigan. She ran her own beauty shop in Camden, Maine. She hadn't wanted to come back here. And since starting at the community college, she hadn't been happy.

There was a marked lack of emotion in this woman's words. She had lost her only daughter, yet no one would ever know it.

“Why did she come back here, then?”

Lorraine nodded absently. “I needed her. I had a room. She needed a place to stay. And I'm not getting any younger. What am I going to do without her?”

Stu wondered if his initial assessment of her was too harsh. People grieved in different ways. Maybe she was really mourning her daughter.

“Look at this place,” she said. “Who's going to vacuum? Me with my back? I can't begin to do it.”

“May we see her room?” Liz asked.

“Through there.” The woman pointed.

“She's some piece of work,” Liz whispered to Stu when they were in Hilary's room. Her room was like walking into a completely different world. The room was bright, smelled fresh and was clean. The bed was crisply made up, and the bottles of makeup and
brushes on the dresser were neatly arranged. Travel posters, mostly of Australia and New Zealand, were on the walls. A beautiful poster of the Great Barrier Reef was bathed in light from the window.

While Lorraine stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, Stu and Liz methodically went through Hilary's drawers, her desk.

“I don't know what you're looking for,” Lorraine said from the doorway.

They didn't, either. But neither Liz nor Stu interrupted her diatribe. It would be handy if suddenly they were to find a diary written in Hilary's handwriting hidden in her sock drawer.

But they didn't.

“You see those pictures on the wall?” Lorraine added. “That's where Hilary wanted to go as soon as she got more qualifications.”

On the way out Stu placed his business card on the table near the door and told Lorraine to call him if she thought of anything else. As they closed the door behind them, there was more laughter from the television.

Next on their list was the apartment that Claire Sweeney shared with her sister, Lily. The tiny apartment on the south side of Shawnigan was bursting with family. Claire's parents were there, along with Lily, plus another sister with her husband and children. When she was shown Hilary's blog sheets, Lily
said, “I didn't really know Hilary. I only met her a few times. Claire always felt sorry for her.”

“Why?”

“Hilary had a mother she had to take care of. This is just a wild guess, but could this be about her mother?”

Stu had to admit that on the way over he did think of that.

“Or,” Lily said, “what about her ex-husband?”

“Ex-husband?” Stu asked.

“Hilary's.”

“Hilary had an ex-husband?” Liz asked.

“She was married. I think it lasted only a year. Claire said that once, I think.” At the mention of her sister's name, Lily's eyes filled with tears.

Liz said, “But the blog uses the feminine pronoun.”

“I'm just saying. I do remember Claire saying that one of her friends, Hilary, was sort of afraid of her ex-husband. And that's one of the reasons why she came home.”

Liz and Stu looked at each other. Why had Lorraine omitted this important fact?

They got back in the cruiser and since Stu was driving, Liz called Lorraine and asked her about Hilary's ex.

They rode through the streets of Shawnigan while Liz talked.

When Liz finally hung up, she shook her head and
frowned. “Some people,” she said. “Lorraine said she didn't think it was worth bringing up. That it wasn't a happy marriage. Why mention it if it wasn't a happy marriage? So I asked her for the name of this ex-husband and she took her time but finally found the last address she had for him.” Liz waved a little piece of paper in the air. “I got it. North Carolina is where Jack Habrowser lives.”

“We got company.” It was that same silver sedan in the rearview mirror. “I'm going to slow down again. This time we'll get him.”

“Okay, McCabe. Do your worst.”

He took his foot off the gas and the car slowed. The silver sedan sped up and passed them easily. A woman with a blond ponytail and wraparound sunglasses was driving. Two young children were in the back in car seats. On the back window was a little family decal, stick figures of a father, a mother, two children and a dog.

“I guess it was the wrong car,” Stu said.

“Ya think?”

On the way into Whisper Lake Crossing, Stu turned down Front Street. “I'm going to the hospital,” he said.

“Good idea,” Liz said. “Maybe Anna will have something to say about Lorraine's comments.”

He parked the car in front of the hospital in a stall marked “Official Use Only.” The two of them walked in. Just as they were going to head up the stairs to the
rooms, Liz said, “I think I'll wait in the coffee shop. You seem to have a rapport with Anna. I'm not sure my presence will add anything.”

He smiled at her. “You're just looking for an excuse to have another cup of coffee.”

“And you're just looking for an excuse to visit the pretty Anna. Actually I've got my trusty smart-phone with me so I can begin looking for Jack Habrowser.”

There was a bit of a spring to his step as Stu strode off the elevator and made his way to Anna's hospital room. He wished he'd brought her something—flowers, a teddy bear, something.

Anna was sitting up in bed and looked amazingly pretty. Her hair was soft and fluffy and her eyes behind round, red plastic glasses looked bright. She put down the book she was reading and greeted him with a big smile. “I can even see you now,” she said. “I have my glasses.”

“They look cute.”

“You're being kind. They look weird.” He had never heard her giggle before.

On anyone else her glasses would look silly, but on Anna they looked like they belonged. “Your hair looks nice,” he said.

“My mother helped me wash it. But it's so flat now. I'm not used to it being like this.” She fingered it with her left hand.

“You're smiling at least,” he said.

“I laugh, and then I remember everything and I start to cry. I ordered new contacts today, but when they come in I'm not even sure I'll be able to use them. I feel so helpless. You need two hands to put in contacts.”

“It won't last. You'll get better, Anna. Your arm will get better.”

There was a pause in the conversation as they both looked at the contraption that held her right arm away from her body. “So are you just here for a friendly visit or do you have more questions for me?”

“A bit of both, I guess. I talked with Hilary's mother today.”

Anna's eyes watered. “How is she? It must be so hard to lose a daughter.”

“Hilary's mother, Lorraine, said that Hilary wasn't happy with the esthetics course and didn't want to be a part of the mock disaster. Did she ever tell you that?”

“I gave her a choice. I gave all the students a choice. I did have a number of students opt out. They all worked on different projects at the college. No one who didn't want to be involved in the mock disaster had to be. I told them this was good experience. What we were going to do was make wounds look real. We had stage blood and all sorts of makeup for this purpose. They were getting special credit for this, plus, this experience would look good in their portfolios.
But I didn't pressure them at all. As I recall, Hilary was one of the first to volunteer.”

Stu frowned. This certainly didn't fit with what Hilary's mother had said. “Did you know that Hilary was married before?”

Anna looked at him thoughtfully and shook her head. “No, I didn't know that.” She yawned daintily and put her left hand in front of her mouth. “Sorry,” she said. “I'm on a new pain med that seems to be making me even more sleepy than the last one.”

“Are you still in a lot of pain?”

“I don't think so. They keep plying me with pain meds, so I can't really tell. This time it's either yawn continually or be smothered.”

“Smothered?”

She laid her head back on the pillow. “The first night I was here the medication I took actually made me hallucinate. It was the weirdest thing. I swear I saw a surgeon all done up in green from his head to his feet come at me with a pillow and put it on my face to smother me. I couldn't breathe. It felt so real.”

“You had a dream like that?”

“I felt a pillow on my head. Fortunately, I had the wherewithal to press the nurse call button. And as soon as I did the nurse came into my room and the apparition, or whatever it was, disappeared.”

“Just like that, it disappeared?”

“Well, when I opened my eyes it was gone.”

“Who was the nurse?” he said, trying to sound as casual as he could.

“Sara. I don't know her last name.”

They chatted for a few more minutes. Before he left, he touched her left hand softly and said goodbye.

He stopped at the nurses' station on the way out and learned that Sara was working nights this week. He asked if the kind of pain medication that Anna was on could cause such real and vivid dreams, and was told that yes, it could. It happened frequently, as a matter of fact.

Stu was still unsure, but then what did he know about strong pain medications?

As he was waiting for the elevator, a person in hospital scrubs and a surgical mask made his way toward him, pushing a cart. The man was staring at Stu. There was something about his eyes that caused Stu to start.

Then Stu looked down at the cart the man was pushing. The cart was full of pillows. Pillows!

He thought about Anna's dream and shuddered.

 

To get to his little house, Stu used the same drive way as Marg and Johnny. He just drove past their large white house, past their spacious backyard with all its decks and fountains, and on down to the small green clapboard guesthouse he rented from them. He often remarked that even though his house was smaller, he
had the better view of the lake. He was right on the lake, as a matter of fact.

Marg Seeley said that because it faced the lake, the deck on the green cottage was the perfect place to sit and enjoy a cold drink in the summer. Stu seldom did that, however. His free time was spent mountain biking, riding on his quad, hiking or mountain climbing. He didn't like doing nothing. If he did nothing he would end up thinking about his wife, Alesha, and how she had died.