SPIRIT OF CONSEQUENCE (A Spirit Walking Mystery Book 1) (29 page)

“You had the top down?” Dodge asked.

“Yes.” I opened my eyes. “I hardly ever put it up. I loved feeling the wind on my face.”

“Okay, sorry to interrupt. It’s just that this is, or was, a beautiful car. The rain would have ruined the leather upholstery.”

I shrugged. “I had it changed about every six months or so.”

His eyes widened, then he shook his head. “Okay, close your eyes again, and tell me what you remember next.”

“I drove along, taking the curves. Right, right, left, left, and then there was a loud bang. The car jerked to the left and I heard screeching. The steering wheel turned round and round. I couldn’t get control of it. My hands were wet and they kept slipping on the wheel. A thud and my body jerked forward. Then flying and laughing. I distinctly remember soaring through the air and grabbing for something, anything, to hold onto to keep myself from falling. Everything kept slipping through my hands, I couldn’t hold on to anything. My laughter turned to panic as I felt myself tumbling through a tree, I think. The branches were ripping my clothes and scratching my arms, legs and face.” I put my hands up to my face.

I felt Dodge’s hand on my arm. “It’s okay, Samantha. Open your eyes and tell me the rest.”

I opened my eyes. “I looked down but couldn’t see anything, it was so dark. I just lifted my face to the rain. I think I actually took a split second to decide that, if I was going to die, I wanted to die looking up rather than down. Then I smacked my head on something. A pain shot through me and I blacked out. I don’t remember anything after that.”

He nodded.

“Why is that important?”

“I just wanted to make sure of something.”

“What?”

“The screeching was your tires trying to catch traction on the wet road. The thud and jerk of your body was probably when you hit the railing and went over. Then you were thrown from the car.”

“Yes.”

“It all makes sense, except the bang.”

“Why?”

“I always assumed you blew a tire and that’s what caused you to lose control of the car.”

“Wouldn’t a bang be the tire?”

“No.” Dodge went around and checked each of the tires.

The tires were pretty mangled from crashing down the ravine and smashing into the bottom, not to mention the fire.

Then Dodge took out his phone and dialed a number.

“Who are you calling?”

He put up his hand.

“Dexter, it’s Dodge. I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

“Why? Because I figured out what caused Samantha’s accident.”

“No, it wasn’t her driving. In fact, I don’t think it was an accident at all, I think someone tried to kill her.”

Chapter 29

“What?” I pushed on the wheels of my chair and felt my muscles scream at the usage but I wanted to get over to where Dodge stood.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” Dodge told Dexter and hung up the phone.

“What do you mean, someone tried to kill me?”

Dodge bent over and pointed to the tire. “You see that?”

“Yeah, it looks like a blown-out tire.”

“Well, it did that too, but look at this tear.”

There was a two-inch slice on the outside of the tire. “Okay, I see it.”

“That wasn’t made when your tire blew. I’ve seen it before.”

“Where?”

“On tires that have been slashed, or more precisely, stabbed with a knife. When a tire runs over something that punctures it, two things happen. Either the thing that you ran over, like a nail, stays in the tire, or it gouges out a piece of the tire. Both will eventually cause the tire to go flat and possibly to blow.” He pointed to the slice again. “This is made when a knife is inserted into the tire.”

He got a crowbar from the workbench and went to work on the tire, pulling it from the rim.

I watched.

He shook his head and I came over to look. He pointed to a knick in the rim. “This is where the tip of the knife struck the rim. I’ll bet the knife was stuck in so far that it even busted the tip right off of it.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay, you’re saying that someone wanted me dead?”

He nodded.

“Why?”

“There are only two reasons to kill someone – emotions or money.”

“Emotions like hate.”

“Or anger, revenge, and sometimes even love.”

“Okay, I know I wasn’t the nicest person to other people but I don’t think anyone hated me.”

“What about the businesses you own? Did you fire someone and they were looking for revenge?”

I shrugged. “I don’t fire anyone. I just supply the money to operate the company. The people who run it decide who comes and goes.”

“Then it’s got to be about your money. Who do you trust?” He put up his hand when I started to speak. “Think long and hard, Samantha. Someone tried to kill you. Who would you trust with your life?”

“Uncle George, Jed, Carl, and,” I smiled, “you and Dexter.”

“This is serious, Samantha.”

“Okay, fine.” I rolled my eyes, then set my jaw. “That’s it, those people.”

“Let’s get back inside. Dexter should be back in a few minutes. I want him to come down and check your car, too. See if he comes to the same conclusion as I did. Then I want you to take me through your last day. What you did from the time you got up until the crash.”

I nodded but didn’t answer. Some of it he wasn’t going to like. That woman, the one that I was – I don’t think Dodge would have liked her very much. In fact, I’m sure that he would have thought her childish, selfish, undisciplined, and totally out-of-control.

Dodge closed the door to the garage and wheeled me back toward the house. When we came through the front door, he yelled up the stairs, “Nurse Wilson.”

The nurse came and stood at the top of the stairs. “Yes, Mr. Benson?”

“Could you come down and take Samantha back to her room? I want to talk to George.”

She nodded and walked down the stairs. Then she pushed me to the elevator and took me back to my room.

She wheeled me next to the bed and tried to help me up. I put my hand on her arm. “Can I try this myself?”

“Are you sure? That was your first outing and I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“I am, but I’d still like to try it myself.”

“Okay, but if you start to fall, I’m going to grab you and help you into the bed. Just give me a few seconds to get the bed ready.” She went over, put the head of the bed up and pushed the sheets back. Then she nodded, “Okay, go ahead.”

I took a deep breath, put my hands on the arms of the wheelchair, and tried to push myself up. My arms wobbled and I struggled to stand. The nurse started forward, but I shook my head. “Give me another few seconds.”

She backed off.

I finally got to my feet, but my legs felt like they were made of jelly.

The nurse stepped forward and wheeled the chair back. She extended her arm.

I took it.

“Now, slowly turn around and put your butt on the bed.”

I held tightly to her arm and moved my feet an inch at a time, circling around so that my back was to the bed.

“Okay, now inch backwards until you feel the bed,” Nurse Wilson said, grabbing my other arm.

A few seconds later I felt the bed, leaned back, and felt my butt hit the top of the bed. I sat on the bed and tried to lift my legs. They wouldn’t move.

Nurse Wilson smiled. “It’s okay, Ms. Gerald. It’s going to take time to get those muscles strong enough to support your weight. Can I help?”

“Yes, thanks.” I nodded.

She lifted my legs and slid them onto the bed. I used the bar hanging over the bed to pull myself up a little bit.

She grabbed the sheets and pulled them over my legs. Then she patted my leg. “Good job.”

“I never thought getting into bed would be so difficult.”

“It takes time. I’ll ask the physical therapist to start getting you up and having you walk a bit. You’ll get stronger.”

“Thanks for your help,” I said.

She gave me another one of her rare smiles and left.

I was exhausted, so I closed my eyes. Had someone really tried to kill me? Who hated me that much? Maybe Dodge was wrong. Maybe I just hit a pothole and the tire blew. I fell asleep. I dreamed of the accident. Racing, the rain on my face, flying, laughing, and then struggling, grabbing, falling, screaming…

“Ms. Samantha, Ms. Samantha, wake up!”

“What?” I shook my head.

“Ms. Samantha, wake up!”

I opened my eyes. Carl stood by my bed, he was holding my arms, and his face showed sheer panic.

“It’s okay, Carl.”

“You were thrashing and screaming. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Dodge came barreling through the door. “What’s going on?” He pulled his gun. “Let go of her!”

Carl quickly released my arms, put his hands up, and stepped back.

“It’s okay, Dodge,” I yelled. “I was having a bad dream, that’s it.”

Dodge still held the gun toward Carl.

“Dodge,” I said.

He turned to look at me, still pointing his gun toward Carl.

“It’s okay. I was thrashing and screaming. Carl tried to keep me from hurting myself.”

Dodge looked back at Carl, then lowered his gun.

“I think I’m going to go and get a sandwich,” Carl said. “Do you want something, Ms. Samantha?”

“No, thank you, Carl.”

He nodded toward Dodge and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Dodge put his gun back into his shoulder holster and came over to my bed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Dodge. Don’t you think you overreacted a little?”

“No.” His jaw was tight, his voice stern. “I heard you screaming and I come in and he’s holding you down.”

“Carl’s on my trust list.”

“He’s not on mine.”

“Who is on your trust list?”

“Dexter and me,” he said as he sat down on the edge of my bed.

I held up my hand. “Wait, you don’t trust Uncle George?”

“Nope.” Dodge shook his head, then continued, “Not a chance.”

“He’s seventy-six years old and I’ve known him my entire life. He’s like my dad. Actually he was more involved in my life than my dad. He actually showed up to my school events, gave me my birthday parties, and stuck around to watch me grow up.”

“Let me tell you something about George and your trust fund.”

I put my hands over my ears and shook my head. “I don’t want to hear it.”

He brought my hands down, but I continued.

“If you’ve found out that the only person I could ever count on my entire life had ulterior motives, I don’t want to know it. Not now, not ever!”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t care about you, Samantha.”

“Then what are you saying?” My eyes filled with tears.

Dodge grabbed my hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

I ripped my hand away. “Why don’t you trust George?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“No.” I took a deep breath. “But tell me anyway.”

“Okay.” Dodge took out his notepad.

I cringed.

“What?” Dodge said.

“You put the information in your little police notebook?”

“Sure, I always write in this,” he said and held it up. “What’s the matter?”

If it was in his little book, then it was true. Someone really had tried to kill me. I took another deep breath. “Nothing, go ahead.”

He flipped the book open. “Okay. You know the law firm that George started?”

“Yes.”

“It only has one client.”

“Besides me.”

“No, only you. There are ten lawyers whose only job is to manage your family’s money.”

“Have they ever had any other clients?”

“In the beginning, yes. The year after George became a lawyer he opened his firm and took on a couple of partners.”

“David and Christopher.”

Dodge flipped to another page. “Yes, David Ratcliff and Christopher Wellington. How well did you know them?”

“They used to come to my birthday parties.” I shrugged.

“George took on another few associates and within the first five years his client list was well over three hundred, which included handling several families’ estates. Now it has dwindled from that to just one.”

“Mine?”

“Yes. His entire livelihood is tied to your money.”

“He doesn’t work anymore.”

“Yeah, he’s living off a retirement package from your money. You pay Jed’s and the rest of the lawyers’ salaries.”

“You don’t trust Jed, either?” I scowled.

“Nope, he’s higher on my ‘do not trust list’ than his dad.”

“Why?”

“Besides the fact that all his money comes from you, he’s the catalyst to your torch. Every time you got into trouble, he was there. Every time the cops picked you up, he was with you. Who was it that taught you to drive with your eyes closed?”

“Jed did, but he’s like my brother. There’s no way he would ever hurt me.”

“I’ve seen people who loved each other turn on the other over money all the time. In your case we’re not talking about just a few bucks.”

“Okay, let’s say you might be right.” I frowned. “Which I’m sure you’re not. I know a trust fund was set up to take care of Uncle George. He doesn’t need to kill me to get the money.”

“That’s just it. Everything was going to change when you turned twenty-five.”

“What changes?”

“When the original trust fund was set up, there were provisions for all of the hired help, including Carl. George and his descendents were entitled to five percent of everything. At twenty-five, everything – and I’m talking about everything, including George’s five percent – reverted to you. There’s also a clause that says that if you are dead or incapacitated, George’s firm will continue to manage the money until you are able to, or until you die. At your death, it gets divided up between the three partners: George, David, and Christopher.”

“And now?”

“It’s all yours. You could fire George’s law firm, get a new one, or go on a spending spree and blow it all.”

“I wouldn’t do that. I’d never fire Uncle George.”

“Maybe not, but what about the horde of lawyers that depend on your money for their salaries? They don’t know that.”

“I never realized how much would change, now that I’m twenty-five.” I had been so out-of-touch with the workings of my money, just signing anything Uncle George told me too. Could he have actually thought I would have changed anything after I turned twenty-five? No! He loved me, not my money.

Dodge interrupted my thoughts. “Actually, you’re thirty, honey.”

“What? Oh yeah, that sucks.”

He leaned in and kissed me. “It’s okay. You’re still younger than me.”

Dexter came into the room, nodded at me, and said, “Dodge, we need to talk.”

Dodge stood. “Why?”

“It’s worse than we thought.”