The Grave Soul (24 page)

“Kira, you've got to listen. We have photos of your mother in the ravine behind your parents' house. You can clearly see strangulation marks on her neck.”

“Where'd you get those pictures? Who sent them?”

“I don't know.” It was the wrong answer and it only made Kira angrier. “I think you might be in danger,” said Jane, all but pleading for her to listen.

“From who? My dad? My grandmother? That's crap and you know it.”

“What's going on inside that farmhouse?”

Kira was taken aback by the question. “What?”

“Why does someone always have to be there?”

“That's nonsense. And besides, it's none of your business. Go back to Minneapolis and tell Guthrie I'm fine. See?” She held up her arms. “Completely intact. Nobody's torturing me, making me stay here against my will. I love that guy, but boy, he's really trying my patience. So are you.”

“You're telling me your family loved your mom.”

“There were issues. But yes, they loved her.”

Jane had only one card left to play. If this didn't knock Kira off balance, nothing would. “If your family loved her, why didn't anyone ever pick up her ashes from the funeral home?”

Kira blinked. “What?”

“Call Steve Carmody. Ask him if your mother's ashes are still there.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No way.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Jane saw Evangeline come around the corner from the rectory and walk toward the parking lot. She was the last person Jane wanted to talk to right now. Before she turned to run back to her car, she pointed at Kira and said, “Make that phone call. You deserve the truth.”

 

34

Hannah and Tammy were cleaning up the front room of the bar when Jane returned shortly after four.

“Is Kevin in the kitchen doing the garnish prep?” she asked, unzipping her jacket.

“He's not here,” said Hannah, blowing a wisp of hair away from her face. “He was hoping you'd do it.”

“Sure. Not a problem.” She needed something to occupy her until he got back. “Will Kevin be gone long?” She still had to deliver her story about her dear mother on her deathbed. She would do her best to make it sound less hokey than that.

“He didn't say,” said Tammy.

Shrugging, Jane headed into the back room, where she put on an apron and washed her hands. And then she got down to work. Both of the blender jars needed to be washed, as did the muddlers and the strainers. Someone had already put several loads of glasses through the dishwasher. The back bar would need to be restocked.

A while later, as Jane was coming out of the kitchen with the last condiment box, she noticed that Kevin had arrived. He was standing next to the Adler brother Jane hadn't managed to meet: Doug. He was seated at the bar, drinking from a rocks glass. They appeared to be deep in conversation.

Catching Kevin's eye, Jane smiled. Kevin's response was a hard stare, two or three beats too long. He finished talking to Doug, then moved behind the bar and stood next to her.

She felt an odd electricity coming off him. “Everything okay?”

“Rough day.”

“Hannah still here?”

“She left.”

“I probably prepped too much fruit.”

“Better to be on the safe side.” He popped a cherry into his mouth.

Jane was about to feed him her sob story, why she needed to leave right away, when Todd Carmody, the man she'd run into yesterday at the hospital, entered the bar. Doug turned around and motioned for him to sit down next to him.

Todd nodded to Kevin and then glanced at Jane. Again, the glance lasted just a hair too long. When he returned his gaze to Kevin, something passed between them. Jane wasn't sure, but she thought she saw Todd give a barely perceptible nod.

“I've got a few things left to do in the kitchen,” said Jane.

“Fine,” said Kevin. “Go do them.”

It took all her willpower not to run. As soon as she was inside the kitchen, she grabbed her leather jacket and made straight for the back door. When she was halfway out, Kevin and Doug were on her.

“What are you doing?” she demanded as each man grabbed one of her arms and dragged her into the alley. “Kevin? What's going on?”

“Shut up,” snarled Doug. “We need a little quality time with you.”

“What's that mean?”

“We need to talk,” said Kevin.

“Fine. Let's talk.”

“Not here,” said Kevin.

“We know just the spot,” said Doug.

She could smell liquor on his breath.

“Someplace quiet. Private.”

“You really disappointed me,” said Kevin. “I don't like being lied to.”

Jane kicked and fought until Doug pulled out a hunting knife. “If you don't calm down, I'll knife you right here.”

“Shut up, you idiot. Put that away.”

“You think I won't use it?”

Kevin pulled Jane's arms behind her back and secured them with duct tape. Doug opened the trunk of his car. And then they picked her up and tossed her in.

“Kevin please,” she pleaded. “You don't have to do this.”

Doug shut the trunk and Jane's world went dark.

 

PART FOUR: MID-JANUARY

Sometimes there is absolutely no difference at all between salvation and damnation.

—STEPHEN KING
THE GREEN MILE

 

35

“Everything looks good,” said Julia Martinsen, shining a light in Jane's eyes. “Any more dizziness? Nausea? Headaches?”

“Slight headache,” said Jane, who was seated on an examining table in Julia's downtown clinic. “Nothing terrible. And the pressure inside my head is finally gone.”

Julia checked through the information on her clipboard. “All the neurology reports came back normal.” Looking up, she added, “Sorry we had to meet here instead of the hospital. I've been out of town for the past week. I wanted to see you right away to do a checkup and give you the results.”

Julia's clinic in Minneapolis was closed on Sundays. She'd made an exception for Jane, opening the doors just for her. Jane was grateful, but it also put her in Julia's debt, which was undoubtedly the intention.

“Your bruises seem to be healing nicely. Still feeling cold all the time?”

“Unless I'm in the bathtub,” said Jane. “I can't exactly stay there all day.” At the moment, she was wearing thermal underwear, a thick flannel shirt under a heavy wool sweater, flannel-lined winter jeans, and three pairs of socks, which made her hiking boots too tight. She figured that was the price she had to pay.

“You need to start eating more normally.”

“I don't have much of an appetite.”

Julia cocked her head. “Those are words I never thought I'd hear coming out of your mouth.”

Jane forced a smile. “Yeah, not exactly me.”

The brain fog that had surrounded her after her return from New Dresden had been lifting, little by little, each day. While most of her memory was back in place, parts of her last day in Wisconsin, as well as the night she was attacked, were still huge black holes.

Jane had spent the last couple of weeks sleeping, eating very little because of the dizziness and nausea, and generally hanging out at Cordelia's house, resting. Cordelia had insisted that Jane stay with her until she was “more herself.” Since Jane wasn't exactly certain, at least initially, what that “self” looked like, she thought she'd let Cordelia be the judge. Jane's father had stopped by once a day to check up on her. They both appeared concerned about the concussion and the bruised ribs, but mostly Jane sensed that they were monitoring the low-grade depression that had settled over her, something that showed no signs of going away.

“Still no memory of the attack?” asked Julia.

“I get flickers. Flashes. Half-formed thoughts zip through my mind, but as soon as I try to catch one, it dissolves. Frustrating, you know?”

Jane's memory might have been damaged, but the one thing she did remember about her life were her dogs. They'd always been her lifeline. On the day after New Year's, Cordelia had picked them up from Evelyn Bratrude's house, where Jane boarded them when she was away. Gimlet, her little black poodle, had always been a snuggler who preferred Jane's bed to her own, so when she dove under the bed covers, it felt right—like Jane had found a piece of home. Mouse, her chocolate lab, was not a cuddler. He preferred his comfortably stuffed bed on the floor. And yet after Jane turned out the lights the first night they were back together, she was a bit startled when she felt him climb up next to her and press his body against hers. It was so like Mouse to understand, to want to be there when she needed him. He was the most generous soul she'd ever known.

“And,” said Julia, dragging out the word, “your memories of me? Have they returned?”

Jane raised an eyebrow. “Yes, they're back.”

“I trust they're not all bad.”

Clearing her throat, Jane said, “No. Not all of them.”

“Well,” said Julia, stepping back from the examining table, “I'd say you're fit to return to work—and to anything else you think might speed your recovery.”

As usual, the innuendo was thick. “Thanks.”

“How about dinner? You need to eat. I need to eat. We might as well pool our needs.”

“Look, Julia—”

Julia held up her hand. “I withdraw the offer.” She sat down at the small desk in the examination room and focused all her attention on the computer screen. “Do you have enough Vicodin?”

“More than enough.”

“If you run out, just let me know.” She punched a few keys, then turned and smiled. “I think we're done.”

“I'm sorry,” said Jane. “About dinner. I'm just not up to sparring with you.”

“I wasn't suggesting that we spar, merely eat.”

“I know what you were suggesting.” She eased off the examining table.

“You should still try to take it easy,” said Julia, opening the door out to the hallway.

As they entered the waiting room, Cordelia stood up and began to struggle into her calf-length faux fur coat. She'd offered to drive Jane to her appointment—and, more importantly, to run interference if needed.

“Are you actually wearing nylons with
seams
?” asked Julia, a hand rising to her hip.

“What?” said Cordelia, looking over her shoulder at her lifted leg. “Aren't they straight?”

“It's not 1940,” said Julia.

“Sure it is. Somewhere. Read Einstein. Max Planck. Spacetime is relative.”

“I thought you were a theater drudge, not a physics professor.”

“I am universes within universes.”

They were giving Jane's headache a headache. “Enough.” Slipping her arm through Cordelia's and moving her out the door, she called, “Thanks.”

“I'm always here for you,” Julia called back.

*   *   *

On their way home to Cordelia's minifortress, Jane suggested that it was about time she packed up her dogs and went back to her house.

“Not yet,” said Cordelia, giving her hair a good fluff. “Not until you're one hundred percent.”

“I may not be one hundred percent for months,” said Jane.

“Fine. Stay as long as you want. We could fit the Mormon Tabernacle Choir in that mansion and still have room.”

Jane looked out the window as they passed the new Vikings stadium. “The point is, I think going home would help, not hurt me.”

“Humor me. Just a couple more nights.”

“Will you drop me off at the Lyme House? I'll walk up the hill to my place later and get my Mini out of the garage.” Her CR-V was still back in New Dresden. A problem she had to resolve.

“Don't work too late.”

“No, Mother, I won't.”

Cordelia looked over and grinned. “It could be worse. At least I don't do bed checks.”

*   *   *

This was only the second time Jane had been back to her restaurant during the two weeks she'd been recuperating. The first visit was to look around, to get her bearings, to fill in the gaps in her memory. It had been a weird sensation, retuning to a building she'd help design, a place she knew more intimately than any other spot on earth, and yet feeling as if she were coming upon parts of it for the first time. That sensation had dissolved after everything began to fall into place. Still, the stark realization that her mind could be such a fragile instrument had an impact.

During many strange, alienated moments, Jane had felt very far away from herself, and in many ways, even though most of her memory had returned, she still did. The cold, empty blankness of that last day in New Dresden had settled down inside her. She was positive it was the reason she felt so continually chilled. Clothing, blankets, and hot baths were no help with a cold that didn't come from without, but from within.

Jane spent a few minutes in the kitchen office being brought up to speed by her executive chef and assistant manager. Here again she realized that her concentration skills weren't normal. She took notes, did her best to appear on top of things, to absorb the information and ask good questions. It struck her that her absence had caused no particular problems for the restaurant, which was good, although it made her feel just a tad inessential, even though she knew that wasn't the case. She'd hired excellent people—something she was proud of. She drifted through the dining room, greeting guests, trying to get her old rhythm back. She thanked various members of her staff for their get-well cards and flowers.

Returning to her downstairs office with a carafe of hot coffee and the overwhelming need to hide, she turned up the heat in the room and then sat down behind her desk. She read through the list of phone calls she needed to return. Not today, she told herself. Maybe not even tomorrow. She switched on her computer. She picked up a pen. She felt overwhelmed.