Shadow Tag (The Ray Schiller Series - Book 2) (32 page)

Another two hours passed without word. Alternately praying and cursing, he waited.

“Detective Schiller?” At the sound of the deep, male voice, Ray leapt to his feet. “I’m Dr. Sutherland,” the man said, offering his hand.

“How’s my partner?”

“Detective Waverly is being moved into the Recovery Room. He’s doing very well.”

“Thank God,” Ray said, shaking the surgeon’s hand with both of his own. “You, too, of course. Is he going to be okay?”

“Your partner must live right. The bullet entered his body at an odd angle and missed every vital organ—just barely, but that’s all that counts. Given some time to recuperate, he’ll be fine. He’s a very lucky man.”

“When can I see him?”

A woman’s voice answered, “Right after I do.”

Ray recognized the voice, but their earlier phone conversation had left him with an entirely different mental image. Phyllis Waverly was clearly a tower of strength, but he never imagined she was such a short tower. She drew her tiny frame up to its full 5’1” height and demanded answers from each of them.

Elbows propped on his knees, Ray sat at the edge of his seat for half an hour, waiting for Phyllis to come out of her husband’s room. She stepped out looking haggard.

“He’s sleeping.” She stood before Ray, ninety-five pounds of grit, but the veneer began to thin. He saw her chin quiver and opened his arms to her.

“I’m all right,” she insisted.

“I know,” Ray said, “but I could sure use a hug.” He knew Phyllis saw through the flimsy ruse, but she allowed herself a second or two of support before pulling away.

“Dick told me what you did, Ray. Thank you.”

“What I did? If Dick hadn’t made that first move, we’d probably both be dead now.”

She raked a hand through her chin-length, salt-and-pepper hair. “I doubt I’ll ever get the whole story from either of you. Liars—both of you. Flirting with the nurses, my ass.” She gave him a weary smile. “Thanks for leveling with me, Ray.”

“Dick didn’t want you worrying, but you had every right to know.”

“The big dope. Know what he tried telling me in there? He said it’s a good thing he’s overweight—that the fat deflected the bullet. That old windbag of mine never stops trying, but I’ll whip him into shape yet.” She could have called Waverly by any and every name in the book and it wouldn’t have obscured the depth of her love for him.

“I’d have taken that bullet for him if I could have,” Ray said. “I mean that.”

Phyllis patted his arm. “A mutual admiration society,” she said, sighing. “Between you and me, Ray, he told me he’s glad it’s him in there, not you.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him along to a waiting room couch. “Come on, sit,” she said, dropping onto a cushion. “God help me, I know it’s a terrible thing to say, but I’m glad the man who shot Dick is dead.”

He sat down beside her, his emotions fluctuating from one moment to the next. If he and Waverly hadn’t gotten their situation under control, their prospects for a long future would’ve been grim. Based on Felton’s own statements, his basic decency couldn’t withstand the pressure of self-preservation. In all likelihood, they would already have been deposited somewhere near the Chippewa National Forest as fish food or carrion for the local wildlife. On the other hand, maybe Felton meant them no harm, but what were the odds?

The odds, Ray thought. Ironic. Life was nothing but a series of gambles. To one extent or another, everyone was a born gambler.

“Is someone here for you?”

“What?” Ray asked absentmindedly.

“I asked if someone is here with you—
for
you. Your wife maybe?” Phyllis said. “You look like you could use a little support yourself.”

“I’m here alone, but I’m fine.”

“Mm-hmm.” Phyllis didn’t need words to express her skepticism.

“Anyway,” Ray said, “I’ve got to get back to the Cities. I’ve got a ton of paperwork ahead of me, and Roth’s waiting for a blow-by-blow account. As long as you’re here, I know Dick’s in good hands. I’ve got to get a move on.”

“Don’t you want to see him before you go?”

“I’d like nothing better, but he needs his rest more than a visit from me. Besides, the Brainerd cops arranged for some county deputies to relay me back to the Cities. If I keep them waiting too long I could wind up hitchhiking. Will you be okay?” he asked.

“Our daughter is on her way; I’ll be fine. You?”

Ray nodded. “Tell Dick I’ll be in touch real soon.”

40

In Minneapolis, Ray fielded questions from his fellow detectives, the stubborn stench of blood lingering in his sinuses as he worked his way through the seemingly endless red tape. The long-awaited congratulatory pats on the back weren’t as satisfying without Waverly there to share them. Once he could be transported back to the Cities, Phyllis would have her hands full screening Dick’s visitors.

When Ray eventually headed back to his apartment, Jillian Wirth was on his mind. He wondered what the future held for her. ACC was in for a rough go. Ed Costales and what was left of the company’s board of directors would be fighting an uphill battle in light of the new developments. As for Michael Johnson, Ray had seen the symptoms of cirrhosis before. He hoped he was wrong, but guessed he was on the fast track for a plot beside his late wife.

As for Felton Plastics, that was anybody’s guess. Ray marveled over the magnitude of the lone misstep that had brought Stuart Felton to their attention. Had he torn, not one but two pages out of the ACC logbook, removing the underlying impressions, he might have avoided suspicion entirely.
But for a single sheet of paper…

As he started down the third floor hallway of his apartment building, he stopped short in front of Patrick Gerrard’s place. “Hey, Patrick,” he called, knocking on the door. “Are you home?”

The door swung open. “Ray, hi. Come inside and put your feet up. You look beat.”

“You’ve got that
right. You still have that beer you offered me or did you finish it off yourself?”

“I saved you a few,” he said, heading to the kitchen. “Grain Belt or a Bud?”

“If it’s wet and cold, either’s fine.” Ray reached out and took a Grain Belt as Patrick came back with a can of each. “Thanks. I thought you might be at the hospital.”

“Was. Sandy insisted on some ‘alone’ time.”

“Is that a good sign?”

Patrick shrugged. “Hard to say. She’s optimistic one minute and depressed the next.”

“No definite news about her leg yet?”

“It’s still a tough call whether they’ll be able to save it or not,” he said, stopping for a quick swig of beer. “We ought to know soon. Decision time is getting down to the wire.”

“Waiting is usually the hardest part.” Ray held the cold can to the side of his neck before popping the top. “How about you—how are you doing?”

“I’ve been better.” Patrick stared into his can of Bud as though he might find solace there. “Sandy’s got me worried. She’s making noises like she’s planning to cut me loose if they take her leg off.”

“Why?”

“Damned if I know. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

Ray took a long drink. “Maybe she thinks you’d only stick around out of pity.”

“She has to know me better than that after all this time.”

“Don’t bet on it,” Ray said. “Stress messes with your head. The worse the stress, the worse it gets. You can’t take anything for granted.”

“So what am I supposed to do about it?”

“Make sure she knows how you feel,” Ray said. “Spell it out for her.”

“She’s not listening. In her frame of mind, it’s like talking to a brick wall.”

“Make yourself heard. Don’t stop until she understands what you’re saying. Once you’ve done that, all you can do is hope, because the rest is up to her.”

Patrick arched both eyebrows. “Maybe you’re right.”

The words reverberated in Ray’s head. “Damn.” He sat up a little straighter, squaring his shoulders. “Maybe I am.” He upended his beer and set the empty can aside. “Thanks for the beer, Patrick. I’ve got to run. There’s something I have to take care of. Talk to you later.”

Two hours later, Ray sat in his car, the day’s unrelenting tension still flowing through his veins. Earlier in the day, he’d stood toe-to-toe with his own mortality, and yet now, parked in front of his small Cape Cod house in Widmer, he’d never felt more frightened. His mission had been clear as he drove from Minneapolis, but now that overwhelming fear immobilized him.

Encompassed within those walls was his entire world. In a matter of minutes, it could spin out of his reach forever. Waiting wasn’t solving anything. Letting precious time go by was only adding to his apprehension. He’d left Gail with the memory of his last words: “Goodbye, Gail”—a final
goodbye. Confused, he’d said it in anger. Had he poisoned her feelings for him?

Time to change that.

He forced himself out of the car and up to the front door. Raising his hand to knock, he hesitated. He reached for the doorbell, but stopped short. By tacit agreement, the house was Gail’s. He questioned the wisdom of using his house key. Would that be pushing his boundaries? He realized he was thinking it to death.
For God’s sake, just go in.

The door swung open before his key neared the lock. “Daddy.” Laurie burst through the door and into his arms.

Ray kissed her cheek and wrapped her in a bear hug. His daughter felt like a bit of heaven in his arms. “Shh,” he said. “I want to surprise your mom. Where is she?”

Laurie lowered her voice conspiratorially. “She’s in the kitchen.” Her smile broadened as she tugged on his hand. “Come on, Dad.”

He held back. “Honey, I’d like to talk to Mom by myself, okay?” He noticed the overnight bag in her hand.” Where are you headed?”

She pointed next door. “To Tracy’s house for a sleepover.”

“Good,” he said. “Where’s Krista?”

“She’s upstairs.”

Releasing her hand, he looked beyond the open door into the living room. “You go ahead, Laurie. Have fun.” Anxiety replaced her smile. “Don’t worry, honey” he said, “I promise I won’t go anywhere until you and I have a nice visit, all right?” He gave Laurie a kiss and watched her dash away.

The music from the stereo in the living room masked Ray’s approach as he stepped inside and closed the door. Everything looked so familiar, so right. Nothing had changed, yet, in a matter of minutes, nothing might ever be the same again. He saw Gail working at a kitchen counter with her back turned to him.

Pop, country western, big band—her taste in music was eclectic, but he knew her favorite songs well. Through secondhand exposure, he’d learned the lyrics nearly as well as Gail herself.

Hidden around a corner, Ray located a recording that put words to the emotions welling in his heart. He replaced the current CD with another, programmed the proper track and moved quietly to the kitchen, stopping ten feet from her. “Gail...”

Startled, she spun around. There were smudges of flour on her cheek and hands. She brushed a lock of auburn hair aside with her wrist. “Ray. What are you—”

He stepped close and put a finger gently to her lips. The strains of the melody swelled and filled the room as he took Gail in his arms. Her body tensed, but he pulled her close and slowly danced her to the center of the kitchen. Lips close to her ear, he softly repeated the lyrics.

“I bless the day I found you. I want to stay around you. And so I beg you, let it be me.”
Ray held her tight, his voice low, his cheek resting against her temple. Less dance than a long embrace, he wanted it to go on forever.
“Don’t take this heaven from one. If you must cling to someone, now and forever, let it be me.”

A tear from her cheek trickled down his neck. Gail pulled away, her eyes glistening, chin quivering. “Ray, stop,” she pled. “Please.” Anguish blazed across her face. “It’s not that simple.”

“It can be if we let it.” He reached out for her.

Gail stepped back. “I’ve always loved you, Ray. I’ve never stopped. Never.” She backed away, eyes brimming. “I made a complete mess of things, and there’s no undoing it. You have to understand something, Ray. What I did had little if anything to do with Mark; it was about us.”

He searched for the right words. “I know that, but things have changed, Gail—
I’ve
changed. You don’t know how hard I’m trying. We can get past what’s happened if we give it a chance.” The disbelief in her dark eyes stung him; her unspoken doubt thundered in his ears. He felt like a spectator at his own execution. “Gail, I’m no good at this. After all these years, if you know nothing else about me, you know that, but I’m asking you to try to understand what I’m saying to you now.”

Wordless, Gail wiped a tear away.

“So much has happened since I left that...” He paused and started over. “Life is so short. People say that, but most don’t think about it much. I do, and I have.” The right words were just beyond his reach, but he refused to give up. “Whether I live one more day or another fifty years, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, because it’s all about love.” Ray paused. “Am I making any sense at all?