Final Settlement (31 page)

“Whew,” the tall redhead exhaled when she’d reached his side. “That’s the fastest I ever hauled my sorry rear up that incline.” Her sister Terri appeared, breathing hard, wearing a too-big parka that he recognized as one of his. Behind her, the stout figure of Bitsy Carmichael continued trudging, a look of dogged determination on her red-splotched face.

“Hey!” she shouted. “This isn’t some church picnic! Keep moving!”

“Hang on, Bitsy. Donny’s going to tell us where to go so we’re an efficient search party.” Tina cocked her head like a heron hunting fish and fixed her questioning eyes on Donny.

He swallowed.

“Er, right.” Thoughts of his days in scouting flitted across his mind as he quickly surveyed the ridge. “Think of this as a grid. Tina, you do the quadrant to the far left, Terri, you head thataway, and Bitsy, you go right. Try to walk in a pattern so you don’t miss anything. I’ll take the top of the ridge.” He paused. “We don’t stop until we find Darby. Even if you locate somebody else, we’re not done until we find Darby. Clear?”

The women nodded somberly and turned to start the search.

_____

Huddled under a small outcropping about twenty yards from the unconscious Dave Robichaud, Darby did not hear Donny give the search party their instructions, nor did she see the dancing lights of their headlamps. She was lying on her uninjured shoulder, throbbing face against the snow, with her legs tucked up as close as possible. She’d stumbled upon the cave-like space by sheer luck, collapsed on the ground, and in her confused hypothermic state imagined there was a large heat lamp—the kind used in Southern California’s outdoor cafes—directly overhead. So warm was the imaginary air blowing from the phantom lamp that Darby tried removing Tina’s blue jacket, but her dislocated shoulder prevented any action.

She could feel her body slowing down. Her heart struggled to keep beating, her breathing was languorous and shallow, and her thoughts seemed to come slowly from very far away. Mustering the energy to care about her condition was no longer an option for Darby. She was sleepy, incredibly sleepy, and ready to surrender to a fatal slumber.

She felt herself slipping toward the intense heat of the lamp, felt the throbbing in her face start to subside, and sensed that this would be her welcome end. She closed her eyes, glimpsing the smiling faces of her long-dead parents. Her father whispered, “Hang on, Little Loon,” and her mother gave an encouraging nod, but Darby began drifting off to sleep.

_____

It was Bitsy who found the body of Kenji Miyazaki, nearly tripping over him as he lay spread-eagled on the snow. She screamed, a piercing sound that ripped through the still night, and then knelt to find a pulse.

“He’s dead,” she muttered to Terri, who had run to her side despite Donny’s instructions. “Never seen him before, have you?”

“Yes,” said Terri. “He was a friend of Darby’s, I think.”

Another shriek made the hair on their necks stand up straight.

“That’s Tina!” Terri cried, jumping to her feet and sprinting toward the sound of the scream.

Bitsy hustled behind her. At the crest of the hill she could just make out a tall man lumbering toward them, groaning and dragging his right leg. He reminded Bitsy of the Frankenstein monster, or one of those Sasquatch things, and he was babbling incoherently.

Bitsy was just about to yell when Donny’s voice boomed through the darkness.

“I’ve found her! I’ve found Darby!”

Bitsy abandoned the dazed man and raced with the Ames sisters across the snow.

“Is she … alright?” whispered Tina. They’d reached Donny, and the tiny cave, and were now holding their collective breath as he answered.

“Her pulse is weak, but it’s there.” Donny lifted her up. “She needs to get warm as soon as possible.”

“Here.” Tina unzipped her furry black jacket and yanked it off her thin frame. “Wrap this around her. I’ll call the ambulance and tell them what we’ve got.” She pointed in the direction of the limping man. “That’s Robichaud, and he’s gone out of his mind.”

Donny wrapped the fur around the unconscious woman and began carrying her as quickly as he dared down Juniper Ridge. “He’ll be okay,” he yelled over his shoulder. “It’s Darby we’ve got to worry about.”

FIFTEEN

D
EPUTY
T
OM
A
LLEN CLAIMED
he would sit outside of the Coveside Clinic room for the entire night.

“There’s something fishy going on here,” he confided to Donny. “Why in the world would Darby shoot Detective Robichaud, unless …” he shook his head and looked up at Donny. “I gotta say, this is outta my league. I called the Staties and they’ll be here just as soon as they can.”

“Good idea.” Donny wasn’t sure what had happened on that ridge, and he wasn’t about to spout theories to Dozer, but he knew one thing: Darby Farr was innocent. And given that she was innocent, that meant that Dave Robichaud was not telling the truth. She’d no more tried to kill him than the man in the moon, and if she had shot him in the ankle as he kept insisting, why then she’d had an awfully good reason to do so.

Detective Dave Robichaud was lying. The fact that his hospital bed was only two doors away from Darby’s did not give Donny any comfort, either.

“I’ll keep you company,” he told Dozer, who gave a grateful grin. “Lemme just go and find myself a chair.”

Donny ambled to the waiting room where the half dozen chairs were all occupied, two of them by Terri and Tina.

“She’s going to be alright, isn’t she?” Tina asked anxiously.

“She’s stable, and her core temperature’s nearly normal.” Donny managed a weak smile. “She’s gonna be fine.” He saw the dark circles etched under both the redheads’ eyes, their nearly identical grimaces of worry. “Why don’t you both go home and get some rest?” His voice was kind. “That way, you can visit Darby in the morning, when she’ll be able to talk.”

The sisters nodded wearily. “Okay,” Tina said, rising to her feet. “I’ll find Miles’s number and let him know what happened.” She turned a concerned face back to Donny. “You’ll call me if there’s any change in her condition, right?”

“You know I will,” he said, reaching out to tousle Tina’s hair.

She gave a shy smile and turned toward Terri. “Let’s go, sis.”

Terri gave a grave nod, her eyes downcast. Donny watched her somber expression.
My new sister-in-law’s got something on her mind
, he thought. Just like Tina, she wore her emotions right out front like a darn billboard.

_____

Sedated, warm, and as comfortable as she could be, Darby lay on the clean sheets of a bed at Hurricane Harbor’s Coveside Clinic and slept. Her Aunt Jane Farr had donated a large chunk of money for the efficient medical building, and then had spearheaded efforts to purchase expensive diagnostic equipment, but Darby was in no condition to remember any of that now.

A young male nurse took her pulse and temperature, listened to her heart, and made notations on her chart. He adjusted the intravenous fluids that were hanging from a pole by her bed, and tucked the sheets and blankets around her thin body, being careful not to jostle the sling around her injured shoulder. She was beginning to recover from whatever had happened on that ridge, and he was pleased.

He left Darby’s bedside, opened her door, and slid past the two men sitting outside the room. They were arguing quietly about baseball, their voices low and insistent. “Of course the Sox have a good shot at the Series,” one of them was saying. The nurse smiled and headed down the clinic’s narrow corridor.

_____

Bitsy didn’t have the heart to yell at Rosie for her latest transgression—chewing the passenger side seat belt in Tina’s truck. The puppy had been bored, after all, bored and lonely, and now as she dozed next to Bitsy on the living room sofa, Bitsy felt a kinship bordering on love for the warm, fuzzy creature.

“Nobody’s perfect,” she whispered to the puppy, stroking her muzzle and the top of her head. The dog let out a satisfied little whimper in her sleep.

Bitsy thought back to Sunday, when she and Charles had chosen the puppy. She remembered the call coming in from Dave Robichaud, and Charles’s pride at being asked to help the Mana-tuck department. What if Detective Robichaud had been up to no good on that day, as well? What did it mean that he and Darby had had some kind of serious, to-the-death struggle on Juniper Ridge?

She pulled a knitted shawl, one they had given her at the treatment center back in Vegas, around her body and snuggled next to the puppy. Darby was going to be okay, that was what Tina had said when she’d phoned ten minutes earlier. Darby would survive and explain the whole thing.

_____

Deputy Tom Allen grinned and accepted the Styrofoam cup of coffee. “Where’d you find this, Pease?”

“Nurse’s office. They’ve got a Mr. Coffee in there, and I brewed some up.”

“So that’s what you were up to. I passed by on my way to use the facilities. Didn’t know you were a regular Suzy Homemaker.”

Donny shrugged. “That’s me alright.” He took a sip of the coffee. “You want to go and stretch your legs a little, Dozer, go ahead.”

“Maybe after I finish this fine cup of java.” Tom Allen took a sip and sighed. “Have you ever tried those international coffees, the kinds that are flavored? I gotta say, I really love the one—”

A shot rang out and both men started, then jumped to their feet.

“What the—?” Deputy Allen sprang toward Robichaud’s door, drawing his revolver as he moved.

“Stand away, Pease,” he ordered.

Both men listened by the doorway, hearing nothing but the squeak of the nurse’s sneakers as he raced down the corridor.

“What happened?” The young man’s face was as white as the paper on his clipboard.

“Keep back!” Deputy Allen turned the handle of the door and pushed it open with his foot, pointing the gun straight ahead. “Robichaud?”

The detective lay motionless on the hospital bed, his revolver on the floor, a bright fountain of blood spurting from a bullet hole to his heart.

_____

The outside temperature was several degrees colder the next morning, the sun struggling to climb into the sky. Darby awoke from a dreamless sleep to a stout nurse with short silver hair taking her vitals and asking if she’d like the window shade up. “The doctor mentioned moving you to Manatuck Hospital,” she confided, smoothing the bed sheets. “But I have a feeling you’d rather stay here on the island.”

Darby nodded. “I’d actually like to go home.” Her throat was dry and the nurse handed her a cup of water to sip.

“I totally understand. How’s that shoulder feeling?” The nurse raised her eyebrows, waiting as Darby wiggled it the tiniest bit.

She winced. “It’s sore. But nothing a few painkillers can’t take care of.”

“That’s the spirit,” the nurse said, grinning. She lowered her voice. “I’m going to take you off the IV and get you some breakfast. The doctor will be in shortly, and that will be your chance to get out of here.” She shuddered. “Can’t say that I blame you for wanting to go, what with the shooting and all …”

“Shooting?” Darby felt her stomach constrict with anxiety.

“I shouldn’t be saying anything, but heck, you’ll find out soon enough.” She paused. “The guy in the room right over there,” she hitched a thumb to the left. “Detective Robichaud. He shot himself last night. Why he had access to his gun, I’ll never understand, but I’m certainly not the one who makes the rules.”

Darby swallowed. “Was it fatal?”

The nurse busied herself with the IV before responding. “Yes. I’m afraid it was.”

A weight seemed to lift off Darby’s chest and she felt as if breathing was suddenly easier. Dave Robichaud had tried to kill her, right after he’d confessed to shoving Lorraine Delvecchio off the Breakwater. Now he had turned that same murderous rage on himself. Darby’s overriding feeling was of relief.

The nurse gave her a bright smile. “All set,” she said. “I’ll be back with some breakfast in a few minutes.” She bustled out of the room, closing the door with a click behind her.

_____

Donny trotted up the walkway to Darby’s farmhouse and let himself in. Just as he’d feared, the inside temperature was decidedly chilly, the windows frosted up from the cold. He glanced around the normally neat kitchen, now a war zone. Pots and pans were pulled out of cabinets, drawers lay yanked out with dishtowels, utensils, and serving spoons scattered nearby, and the oven door yawned open, an enameled roasting pan overturned on the floor. “What in the name of heaven?” Donny shook his head and entered the living room.

There, the scene was much the same. Pillows pulled from the couch, logs dragged from the fireplace, and the contents of desk drawers spilled all over the floor. The house had been ransacked, and as Donny looked at the mess in Darby’s bedroom, he remembered her incoherent ramblings on the ridge. She’d said the Japanese guy, the one Dave Robichaud had shot, was searching for some kind of box.

Donny called Tina. “Come on over and help me clean,” he said, explaining the situation. He then hung up, lit a big fire in the living room, and started putting Darby Farr’s house back in order.