Tainted Mountain (23 page)

Thirty-Eight

Barrett softly stroked the
back of Abigail's hand. It might be the only spot on her that wasn't bruised or cut. He would prefer to take the pillow she rested her bandaged head on and smash it down on her face, grinding it until the life left her body.

“That Laurie is so bossy.” Abigail pouted in a way he once thought attractive. “I want to spend more time with my fiancé.”

He dodged stitches on her forehead and brushed his lips on her skin. “You've been through too much. First the gas leak and explosion itself, then to find out Nora is responsible.” If Abigail hadn't turned at the last minute and ruined his aim with the tire iron, she wouldn't be lying here worrying at all. She'd be stretched out on a slab in the morgue.

Abigail's eyes sparked with indignation. “Nora is not behind this, despite what Gary says. He's determined to throw her in the clink. I'm glad she's on the lam, hiding from the Heat.” Since Abigail's brush with the law she'd taken on a whole new language.

Why had he found her so appealing? She looked like an old woman and sounded like a harpy. The stitches and dried blood along the eight-inch gash on her forehead made her look like Frankenstein's monster. “I know it's hard to consider, but if the police are convinced Nora's at fault, they probably have strong evidence.”

Barrett hadn't planned on killing Abigail. He'd left her at the police station in the care of his trusty attorney and rushed back to torch the apartment. But she'd shown up unexpectedly. After he decided killing her was the most expedient solution to the problem, it struck him as justice for rejection. She'd said yes to his proposal, but only for his protection.

Goddamn Charlie for his meddling. He'd somehow rescued her and now Barrett had another loose end.

A lioness protecting her cub would be no more ferocious than Abigail, even injured as she was. “It's Big Elk and his gang of thugs, maybe that big Indian friend of Heather's.”

Barrett tried to soothe her. “You're probably right. At the very least, poor Nora has lost everything. Not even a memento of her husband is left.”

Abigail sniffed in indignation. “Not that she needs to be reminded of his low character. The awful irony is that the only thing to make it through is that stupid box of Scott's.”

This couldn't be. “I'm afraid nothing's left of the apartment.”

“It wasn't in the apartment. I didn't want Nora to have to face it again, so I had Heather load it into her car to take to the dump.”

Scott's fucking logs were still around?! Fiery claws ripped at Barrett's gut. Heather had the logs. Nora was with Heather. He had to find them. Now. “I can protect Nora until we get this all straightened out. Where is she?”

“I don't know. What if Big Elk has her?” The final word squeezed into a sob. He'd thought she was so dignified and classy. Her sniveling made him want to slap her face.

He had to convince Abigail of his grave concern for Nora's safety. “Big Elk isn't a threat. But I really need to find Nora if I'm going to help her.”

“The last I knew, she and Heather were coming back from the Hopi reservation. Heather was really excited because she found out something about her family.”

Her family. What the hell was this now?
He
was her family. Some big-mouthed Indian was filling her head with bullshit. He couldn't allow this. “What about her family?”

Fatigue crept into Abigail's voice. “She found out her name and is going to ask Charlie. Charlie knows a lot about Hopi people.” Again her words tailed off into tears. “But now he's here because of me.”

“Or because of Nora, if the police are right.”

Abigail's indignation burst out. “They are most certainly not right. I won't have you casting aspersions.”

Charlie's brain was probably so pickled he couldn't remember his last name, but what if it wasn't? He might know about Heather. Barrett couldn't risk Heather finding out. In for a penny, in for a pound: Charlie had to go.

“I'm sorry. Don't worry about Nora. I'll find her and protect her.”

The last spurt of anger must have drained Abigail. She sounded exhausted. “Thank you, dear.”

Barrett pulled her hand to his lips. “You said Charlie is in the hospital too?”

“He'll help her if he can. He's very fond of Heather.” Abigail closed her eyes, already drifting off.

Barrett strode toward the door and spoke quietly to himself: “It's time Charlie minds his own business and leaves my family alone.”

Thirty-Nine

Nora heard Barrett's cowboy
boots clack under his bulk, then his voice as he exchanged friendly remarks with Laurie at the nurse's station.

This was bad. The same gaping slit across Big Elk's throat awaited Charlie unless Nora could warn him.

Nora checked the hall then snuck into Abigail's room. Her mother lay like a corpse, pale and lifeless, her eyes closed. One eye puffed in a bed of purple and pink, a stapled gash with blackened blood lined the eyebrow. If Nora had just given up the idea of making Kachina Ski a money machine, if she'd sold it or closed it and walked away, none of this would have happened. Scott would still have left her, but he and Maureen would be alive. Abigail would be flirting and probably planning her next wedding to some tycoon she met on a cruise. Nora was certain she had caused this disaster with her greed and pride. The guilt was almost unbearable.

She tiptoed to the bed.

Abigail opened one eye, the other swollen shut. “Oh, Nora.” Tears spilled down the side of her face. “You shouldn't be here.”

Nora took her mother's hand and leaned close. “I'm so sorry.”

Abigail blinked, the struggle to be strong obvious. “Gary was here. He wants you for questioning. He thinks you killed Scott and blew up the lift and apartment for insurance. I know it wasn't you.”

“Shh.”

“He thinks you were in the apartment when I got there and snuck up behind me, hit me with something hard, then turned on the gas so the place would explode. Only you were on the phone with me. But I can't tell him that because he'll find out where you are.”

“I'm sorry, Mother.”

The fear that rode shotgun with Nora colored Abigail's words. “You've got to find Barrett. He'll protect you.”

Abigail was so worried already; Nora couldn't bear to scare her more by telling her about Barrett. “Don't worry, Mom. I'll figure it out.” Nora smoothed the hair on Abigail's forehead, avoiding the raw spots. “How are you?”

“Look at my face. This will leave a scar. This is where I hit the table when I fell. At least the mark on the back of my head will never be seen. But I'll heal. The real concern is for you.”

No. The immediate threat was for Charlie. Barrett wanted something hidden from Heather, and he wouldn't hesitate to silence Charlie to do it.

Abigail patted Nora's hand. “I'm glad to see you, but you have to go before Big Elk or Gary find you here.”

“I love you, Mom.”

Tears returned to Abigail's eyes. “Well, I know that.”

“No, I really mean it. You're a wonderful woman.”

Tears left trails through Abigail's makeup. Of course nearly dying would be no excuse not to put on her face. Nora wondered where her mother had gotten the spare cosmetics. “That's nice of you to say, but we both know it's not true.”

Nora pulled a tissue from the box by the bed and dabbed Abigail's eyes.

Abigail sniffed. “I'm not strong and smart like you. I so admire you.”

“You admire me?”

“I wish I were more like you. You aren't afraid to be on your own. Look at me. I'm terrified of being penniless and alone.” She sobbed.

Nora's bruised heart ached at the sight of Abigail's tears. “You're not alone.”

“I wouldn't be marrying Barrett if I were more like you. I know he's the kind of man I appreciate. But this time,” she sobbed, “this time I wish I had more courage to do what my heart wants.”

Why wouldn't Abigail want to marry the man she thought Barrett was? “What does your heart want?”

“Charlie.” Abigail dissolved into heaving sobs.

Blow someone up and the strangest things seeped from the cracks. Abigail and Charlie? That might be even crazier than a century-dead man showing up on Nora's doorstep.

“If you want Charlie, why not be with him?”

Abigail sniffed and wiped her eyes. “What security does he offer me? A decrepit cabin in a rundown mountain village. No shopping, no vacations, no retirement.”

“Do you love him?”

Abigail looked at Nora in surprise. “No one has ever made me laugh the way Charlie does. He makes me happy just walking in the woods or sitting on the porch in the sunlight. I've never had that much fun at Macy's, even during a sale.”

Nora smiled and shook her head. It would be great to stay with Abigail and continue the most genuine conversation they'd ever had, but it wasn't to be. If Nora didn't save Charlie, Abigail's dreams of enjoying the mountain with him would never come true. She'd already given Barrett too much of a head start as it was.

“I've got to go,” Nora said.

“Yes. Go. Be careful. Be safe.”

Keeping one eye out for the industrious Laurie, Nora strode as quickly and silently as possible, straining into every room, desperate to see that grizzled head she loved so much.

Up one corridor. Nothing but strangers in each room. Nora felt sad for every patient in every room and all their loved ones. They were living out their own stories of misery, woe, and hope. Hospitals are like normal life amplified. In here a headache doesn't mean two aspirins and a nap—it means a life-threatening tumor. A bruise becomes cancer. Affection is passion, anxiety is terror. Watching, waiting, praying. Life on the precipice. She hated hospitals.

At the far end of the hall a service elevator sat at the intersection of the two corridors. Nora hurried up the other side, checking each room. Charlie wasn't on this floor. Barrett could find and kill Charlie in slow torture by the time she checked each floor manually. Time for bold action.

Laurie and another staffer discussed a teacher at Laurie's daughter's school. Apparently, the teacher was the Antichrist.

Nora inhaled, straightened her shoulders, smoothed her clothes as much as possible and ambled to the station as if she felt no pressure. She smiled in what she hoped appeared a natural way, wondering if it looked like the desperate woman she was, fearing for her life and that of everyone she loved. “I'm lost, I guess. I'm looking for Charlie Podanski. I thought he was on this floor but I must have the wrong room number.”

Laurie looked at her with the deep eyes of a Native American. She didn't return Nora's smile. Maybe she recognized Nora. Maybe she just didn't see the need to smile.

The other woman, a petite blonde, grinned, her teeth white in her tanned face. “Sure. Let me look it up.”

The younger woman punched a few keys on the computer. “Here's the problem, you've got the wrong floor. He's in 408.”

Laurie hadn't said anything. She studied Nora as if she were a new disease.

“Thanks,” Nora said and tried to walk away when she wanted to run.

“You can take the elevator,” the young woman said.

“It's only one floor. I'll walk.” And hopefully avoid Gary when Laurie called him, which she would certainly do.

Nora rounded the corner and lunged for the stairway door. She bounded up the steps, taking off for room 408.

Charlie's room was on the same side of the floor as the stairs and Nora didn't encounter any staff as she dashed down the corridor. She glanced behind her to make sure Gary and Laurie didn't trail her before she ran into his room.

Charlie lay on his back, eyes closed. A white bandage-wrapped around his forehead. White cotton swathed his left hand and looked like a puff of snow lying on his chest. He should be out creating environmental mischief on his trails, not wrapped in disinfected sheets under artificial lights. Nora hurried to the bed.

“Charlie?”

He opened his eyes and focused them with effort. “An angel of the first degree.”

Nora put a hand under his shoulders. “Are you hurt? Can you sit up?”

He grunted. “For you, darlin', anything.”

He didn't weigh much but felt like a hundred-and-fifty-pound sack of sand. “I've got to get you out of here.”

He gave her a blank smile. “You're breaking me out. I knew you were a good one.”

Nora succeeded in sitting him on the side of the bed, but his speech and movements blurred around the edges. “Come on, Charlie. This is important. Barrett is coming after you.”

He turned an amused face to her. “He better watch out. I'm coming after him.”

“Are your feet or legs hurt? Can you stand?”

“Oh, sure. I can stand. I can take you dancing. I used to dance. Did you know that? I was dashing and the sweet girls lined up.”

“That's nice, Charlie.” He was so drugged up his arms and legs had less body than the hospital sheets. He'd never make it out.

Nora ran into the hall. There had to be wheelchairs somewhere. Two doors down a loud female voice, the tone perfect to get the attention of a deaf two-year-old, hollered. “Hello, Mrs. Robinson. I need to take you down for some tests. Let's just get your vitals.”

The figure on the bed didn't respond. Nora wouldn't have responded, either, unless it was to tell the woman to speak like an adult. A wheelchair sat by the door waiting for Mrs. Robinson to have her pulse and temp taken.

“I'm Debbie, Mrs. Robinson. Your chart says your name is Deborah, so we're both Debbies. Debbie Robinson.”

Amid the annoying and senseless chatter, Nora stole the wheelchair. Guilt nagged at her for not stealing Mrs. Robinson out from darling Debbie's clutches too, but there was only so much saving she could do in a day.

She rushed back to Charlie's room, half expecting Gary to be standing there with his gun drawn.

Charlie sat on the bed humming, arms out, swaying as if on the dance floor. “Do you suppose Abigail would like to dance with me?”

“Into the chair.” Nora hefted him from the bed and plopped him into the chair not as gently as she'd have liked.

He grunted and tried to grab the chair rails but his mittened hand bounced off and landed in his lap, where he let it stay.

She inhaled. “Here we go. Act natural.”

“Darlin', I'm the master at deceiving The Man.”

She whisked him out the door and flew past Mrs. Robinson's room, where Debbie hadn't noticed the missing chair yet. No wonder hospital costs were so high with idiots like Debbie at large.

Chances were Laurie was no idiot. She probably put in a call to Gary before Nora had even hit the stairwell. Why hadn't he shown up yet with his handcuffs and billy club?

Nora stopped short of the corner where the nurses' station faced the elevator. She couldn't wheel Charlie in front of the nurses and get on the elevator. Even good ol' Debbie would have a better handle on her patients than to let strangers take them away. Any second, Debbie would burst from Mrs. Robinson's room and send the SWAT team after the missing wheelchair.

The elevator door whooshed open and Nora shrank to the wall.

Feet stepped out of the elevator onto the linoleum of the hall. Nora calculated the distance back to room 408. Maybe she could make it back to Charlie's room. And then what? Wait for Barrett or Gary to finish them off?

Footsteps approached the corridor. She lunged across the hall to the nearest room. She could shove Charlie into the bathroom and hide like she did next to her mother's room.

She didn't move fast enough. The footsteps sounded behind her.

If those feet carried Gary, the jig was up. She braced to swing the chair back, maybe charge into him and throw him off balance. That was a stupid idea. She gave Charlie's chair a massive shove and dove into a room, not quite clearing the doorway.

A hand landed on her shoulder. She gasped. Heather's voice sounded irritated. “What are you doing?”

Charlie gave her a lopsided grin. “My beautiful Indian maiden. You make the world a better place just by being alive.”

Heather raised an eyebrow and looked at Nora. “What kind of drugs is he on?”

Nora shook her head. “Can you distract the nurse so I can get him down the elevator?”

“That's a stupid plan.”

“What do you suggest? We've got to get out of here before Gary finds us.”

“No lie. But he took off for your mother's room and it won't be long before he figures out you're up here. When he does, he'll be on the elevator, or he'll have someone watching the lobby.” Heather took hold of the handles of Charlie's chair, shoving Nora out of the way.

Charlie tilted his head back to look at Nora. “How is Abigail, that vision of grace?”

Nora patted his shoulder, trying to dam the panic flooding her brain. Think. There had to be another way to get Charlie out of here. Debbie was a blink away from storming out of Mrs. Robinson's room. They had to get moving.

Light bulb. Nora hurried back the way she came. “There's a service elevator this way.”

Heather spun the chair around and sailed down the corridor past Mrs. Robinson's room, where Debbie shouted her sing-song nonsense.

Charlie's head listed to the right. “Like a chopper over the Mekong. Wind in my face.”

No way would they get away with this. Gary or Debbie or Laurie or some other authority would find them, send Charlie back to his bed where Barrett would kill him like shooting a fish in a barrel. Nora would spend the rest of her life in jail for killing Scott and Maureen.

The hallway ended with a narrow corridor leading to the other side of the floor. The service elevator doors faced the corridor. Heather punched the buttons.

“Where are we goin'?” Charlie asked. He hummed a Doors tune circa 1968.

The numbers above the elevator marked the floors while her heart threatened to pound through her skin. Two, three … She held her breath, waiting for the doors to open on death.

The light stayed on four and the clank and settle of the gears and cables signaled the arrival of doom. The doors slid open.