Miracle in the Mist (29 page)

Frank swung carefully between the two stone pillars that seemed to appear out of nowhere and maneuvered the car slowly into the driveway. He parked near the side of the porch. Before he could turn off the engine, Carrie was out and running clumsily for the front porch through the knee-high snow. He jumped out and raced after her, catching her by the arm just before she grabbed hold of the doorknob.

"He might have come back. Let me go in first," he told her. For a moment he thought she'd fight him, but then she nodded and stepped away from the door.

He opened it and cautiously stepped inside. He scanned the hallway and what he could see of the adjoining rooms, and then listened for the sound of anyone else in the house. It was eerily quiet, except for the ticking of a large grandfather clock in the hall.

"I don't hear anything. I think it's okay."

Carrie grabbed his hand from behind and whispered close to his ear. "She's in the living room to the left."

He entered a room. Furniture and broken shards of all manner of bric-a-brac were strewn everywhere. The coffee table was overturned, and a lamp lay on the floor beside it. There had been one hell of a struggle here. If Dan had been trying to kill Cathy, as Carrie had told him in the car on the way here, her sister had fought hard for her life.

"Cathy!" Carrie ran toward a large shadow in the middle of the floor.

After scanning the room to make sure no one else was there, Frank followed her to the woman's body covered by a colorful crocheted afghan. The blood that had seeped into the beige carpeting had turned a dark brown.

He knelt on one side of her, Carrie on the other. Taking Cathy's wrist, he placed his finger on the pulse point. The beat was thready, but it was there. He then quickly did a cursory examination of the rest of her body. Her breathing was ragged and uneven.

"She's alive," he said and heard Carrie's gasp of relief next to him. "But barely." What he didn't tell Carrie was that he suspected broken ribs and that one of them might have punctured her lung. He glanced over his shoulder at the window. "Where in hell is that ambulance?" He stood. "You stay with her, and I'll go out to the road and wait for them. They might miss the house completely in this storm."

Carrie watched him go. "Be careful," she called after him.

"Don't move her," he called over his shoulder. "We don't know what her injuries are."

Cathy moaned and snapped Carrie's attention back to her. At first, she started to gather her sister's body close to reassure her. Then, recalling Frank's warning, she opted instead for whispering to her.

"It's okay, Cath. The ambulance is on the way." Using great care not inflict more pain on Cathy than she'd already suffered, Carrie gently soothed her sister's hair away from her blood-streaked face.

"Dan?" Cathy's voice was so weak Carrie had to put her ear against her lips to hear what she said.

"I don't know. He took off."

Cathy grabbed at Carrie's coat lapel, but she was too weak to hang on. Carrie leaned over her mouth again.

"You… were… right. I should… have—"

"Shhh." Carrie laid her fingers over Cathy's lips to stop her words. "Save your strength. Time for all that later. We need to get you to a hospital so they can get you fixed up and back on your feet again." She glanced nervously over her shoulder at the door and said a silent prayer that the ambulance would arrive soon.

It felt like they'd been waiting hours when Carrie heard a siren coming closer. Long minutes later, Frank and a team of EMTs rushed into the room.

***

Carrie paced the hospital waiting room, anxious to hear about her sister. Frank had told the nurses and intern who had met them that he was a doctor and had immediately gone off with the EMTs and the emergency room people, but not before he'd promised Carrie he'd be back soon to let her know whatever he could find out. That seemed like it had been hours ago.

While she'd waited, she'd passed some of the time by calling the police to alert them about Dan. They'd told her they would come to the hospital to talk to her, but they hadn't shown up as of yet.

She flopped down in one of the vinyl chairs and rubbed at her burning eyes. She couldn't recall the last time she'd slept. Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes. Instantly the burning sensation eased.

But just as quickly, a vision of what she'd witnessed in her sister's house passed before her. Her eyes snapped open. A reminder of the night's events was the last thing she needed right now. What she needed was a cup of the hospital's strong-enough-to-walk-on-its-own coffee.

Dragging herself to her feet, she pushed open the glass waiting-room door. One step into the hall she heard angry, raised voices coming from around the corner at the other end.

"She's my freaking wife, and I have a right to see her!"

Carrie recognized her brother-in-law's angry tones. What was that son of a bitch doing here?

"You gave up any rights when you beat her to a pulp. If you want to see Cathy, you'll have to go through me."

Frank? Carrie had never heard him that angry. His voice resembled the growl of an enraged animal. Chills shivered down her spine. Cautiously, she edged her way in the direction of the chaos.

"You think you're going to stop me, big man?" Dan's sarcastic laugh followed his question.

"Try me," Frank spat, his tone becoming more and more threatening each time he spoke.

"I want to see my wife, and you're not going to stop me."

"You can bet your ass I will. That woman's in the operating room fighting for her life because of you, and you are not getting near her." Frank's tone had grown menacing, colder. It sent an eerily familiar shiver down Carrie's spine.

Just as Carrie rounded the corner, she saw Dan lunge for Frank. Even from this distance, she could hear the sound of Frank's fist connecting with Dan's jaw. She couldn't believe her eyes. Frank had never given her any indication that he was capable of physical violence.

Dan staggered backward under the blow, but regained his footing and lunged again at Frank. Frank stuck out his foot and tripped him, sending Dan sprawling across the highly waxed floor. Before he could get up, Frank had straddled him and was pummeling Dan's face with blow after blow.

"Frank!" Steve Cameron appeared out of nowhere and grabbed Frank's arms. "Stop it. He's slime. He's not worth you breaking your hands on him."

With some effort, he pulled Frank off Dan, his fists still swinging. Frank was like a crazed man. It took Steve several minutes to get him under control. Just as he did, a security guard rounded the corner.

"Get him the hell out of here. But keep track of him," Steve commanded, gesturing toward Dan's crumpled, bloody body. "I'm making a citizen's arrest for domestic violence and attempted murder until the police get here and charge him themselves."

As the guard led Dan away, Frank glared at him. When the elevator doors had closed, blocking out Dan's glowering face, Frank straightened his clothes and then wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth.

During the entire incident, Carrie had remained frozen in place. Horror at what was happening flooded her. Though she understood the reason for his rage, the intensity of Frank's anger terrified her, and she had no idea why.

He noticed her for the first time. His features, softened now from the fury that had distorted them into someone she hadn't recognized, reflected his concern that she'd witnessed the fight with Dan. When he took a step toward her, she moved away.

"Carrie?"

She couldn't speak. She just held up her hand, shook her head and turned away. Before she knew it, she was running, running as far and as fast as she could—away from Frank.

Confused and hurt, Frank looked at Steve. "What the hell was that all about? Why did she run from me?"

Steve continued to stare down the hall where Carrie had disappeared. "I have no idea."

Suddenly, Frank realized whom he'd been talking to. "Where did you come from? How did you know we were here?"

"Emanuel sent me and Meghan to help." Steve ran a hand through his hair. "He said that you two would be needing us. Looks like he was right." He glanced down the empty hall. "Trouble is, I'm just not sure which of you needs our help the most—you or Carrie."

***

Carrie clutched her coat around her and walked faster, ignoring the snow and sleet stinging her face. She had no idea where she was going; she just knew she didn't want to be near Frank right now. She needed time to think.

Why had the fistfight upset her so much? She'd seen men fight before. She'd just never seen such rage on anyone as Frank had displayed. It was as if he'd become someone she'd never met before, an animal bent on killing his prey, instead of the man she loved, the father of her baby.

He certainly wasn't the man she'd lain on a blanket with next to a waterfall, and with whom she'd made long, passionate love. That man had been infinitely kind, gentle, and considerate. The Frank she'd seen in the hospital was… a mindless brute. It went without saying that Dan had deserved to be beaten within an inch of his life. If she thought she could have summoned enough strength, she'd have taken him on years ago. That Frank would do it and with such savagery had stunned Carrie beyond words.

"Carrie?"

A woman fell into step beside her.

"Meghan? What… "

"What am I doing here? Emanuel sent me and Steve to help."

"Help? With what?"

Meghan smiled softly. "You tell me."

Carrie stopped walking. She glared at Meghan, and then shook her head. "Can't you people ever be straight with us? I have no patience right now for your damned riddles and clever evasions. If you're really here to help, then, dammit, help! Tell me why the man I love turned into a monster before my eyes." The words had no sooner left her mouth than she wanted to snatch them back. "I'm sorry. It's been a hell of a night."

Meghan wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "I know."

Carrie began to ask her how she knew, and then silenced herself. There was no point in asking. Meghan probably wouldn't tell her anyway. She wasn't any more forthcoming with explanations than the rest of them.

"I don't know about you, but I'm about to freeze to death." Meghan shivered and then pointed across the street. "How about we slip over there and grab a cup of coffee to warm us."

Numbed by a combination of the cold and what she'd just witnessed, Carrie nodded, and allowed Meghan to steer her to a small diner tucked between two very large buildings. She didn't recall seeing that place before, but then she wasn't paying much attention to her surroundings. Still, how convenient, in this street filled with apartment buildings, that a diner just happened to be there when they needed it.

My God, Carrie. Get a grip. Your imagination is out of control
.

She followed Meghan across the street and into the warm interior of the restaurant. The diner looked like it had dropped right out of the fifties. Though the place was spotless, the smell of old grease hung heavy in the air.

Long, rectangular glass cases holding an assortment of pies and Danish pastries lined the back edge of the counter. Vinyl and chrome stools stood sentinel down the black and white tile floor on the outside of the counter. On each of the pink Formica-covered tables rested a set of nondescript, glass salt and pepper shakers. A chrome napkin holder held up the food-stained, yellowed menu stuck between them. On the table at which Carrie and Meghan chose to sit was a glass holder containing a small votive candle that was burning with two flames. Odd place, Carrie thought, staring fixedly at the twin flames, but… comfortable, homey, and very welcoming.

They settled into a booth covered in cracked burgundy vinyl. A server dressed in an aqua polyester uniform, from which a crochet-edged handkerchief bloomed from the breast pocket, approached their table. She stopped beside them, and then hitched one hip higher while she vigorously tortured a piece of gum and opened a book of pale green guest checks.

Pencil poised above the paper, she smiled down at them. "Help you girls?"

Carrie stared at the server. She looked suspiciously familiar… like a younger Clara. Lord, on top of everything else, she was hallucinating.

"Just coffee," she finally said.

"What about you, sweetheart?" the server demanded of Meghan.

"Coffee for me, too." Meghan smiled at the server, and Carrie could have sworn the woman winked at her.

"Pie? Danish? Burger and fries?" the server offered while she continued to chew her gum, a periodic
crack
resulting from the tireless movement of her jaw.

Both women shook their heads. The server walked away, humming a Christmas carol. Carrie had totally forgotten that it was Christmas when she'd gone into the mist, but since time stopped for all intents and purposes in the village, it still was Christmas now that she'd emerged from it.

Merry Christmas
, she told herself sarcastically. As if mocking her, the plastic Christmas tree on the cash register decked out in a garish red-tinsel garland began to slowly turn and play a tinkling rendition of
O Come All Ye Faithful
.

"So, you want to talk about it?" Meghan asked, folding her hands on the faded pink Formica tabletop.

"Talk about what?"

"What happened back there in the hospital that spooked you."

Carrie sighed. She didn't bother asking if Meghan was referring to the fight. But she wasn't at all sure she could put her fear into words. "I don't know. Seeing Frank like that did something to me, and I don't know why. He was so… so… "

"Angry?"

She nodded. "But it was more than that. I've never seen him like that, and it frightened me terribly. I don't know why it should."

"He was protecting your sister from an abusive man. Why should that frighten you?"

Carrie sighed. "It shouldn't. Hell, I should be grateful that he was there to run interference with Dan. That's why my reaction makes no sense."

"Doesn't it?"

Before Carrie could answer, the server returned with two cups of steaming, fragrant coffee. To forestall having to say anything more, Carrie sipped at the steamy liquid. Her eyes widened. There had only been one place she'd ever tasted coffee this rich and robust. She looked up at the server.