Consider the Crows (31 page)

“The Vogel woman didn't make it,” he said. “We worked on her, but— I'm sorry.”

“What about Parkhurst?”

“I clapped him in bed with my direst threats.” Dr. Kyle smiled wearily. “He didn't seem too impressed. He'll be fine. We're treating him for hypothermia. Probably release him tomorrow.”

She felt an easing of tension in her shoulders. “The catatonic woman?”

“Physically, she seems all right. Showing some effects of exposure. Mentally—” He shook his head. “That's not my field. You have any idea who she is?”

“No. She looks a lot like Carena Egersund. Maybe a sister. How is Egersund?”

“Concussion. Abrasions and contusions that are minor. Also effects of exposure. Just what went on out there anyway?”

Macabre scenes that would live on in nightmares. “Will she be all right?”

“Should be. Barring complications. I need to run some more tests. She's conscious now. That's a good sign.”

“May I see her?”

He hesitated. “You can't subject her to questions.”

“Okay.”

“Just listen to what she says and then leave.”

“Okay.”

He rubbed his tired face and putting both hands on the table for leverage pushed himself to his feet. “She's been asking for you. Might be better for her to get rid of whatever's on her mind. You can have three minutes. If she gets agitated, I'll yank you.”

Susan simply nodded and followed him into an elevator and along another corridor.

“Three minutes,” he warned.

Lying in the bed with monitors and IV tubes, Carena Egersund looked very bad to Susan. Her face was almost as pale as the sheets, except for the dark bruise on one cheek. Her eyes, fixed on Susan, seemed too bright as they sometimes were with the seriously ill. Susan hoped the doctor knew what he was talking about.

“I have to tell you about Edie. She killed Lynnelle. She—” Those bright eyes filled with tears.

“I know,” Susan said gently. “You don't have to tell me now.”

“Audrey fired her. And Edie hit her with a stool, some kind of child's chair.”

Susan recalled the square stepping block sitting by Edie's coffee table. “This can wait until you're feeling better.”

“I don't remember much. Sort of a dream. Cold and being dragged along, and dark.”

“Edie was pulling you on a sled.” Susan yanked tissues from a box on the bedside table and handed them to her.

“I've been so worried—so—” Carena Egersund blotted at her face. “Caitlin is missing and—”

“Caitlin is your sister?”

“Yes. She's—she was— Lynnelle was her child, but she—Nobody knows where Caitlin is. I'm afraid—”

“She's here in the hospital. She's—,” Susan started to say just fine, then changed it to, “not hurt.”

“Here?” Much of the anxiety eased from Carena Egersund's face, leaving it slack and even more pale and corpse-like. “Oh thank God. I was afraid she'd hurt herself and—” The tears kept coming.

Susan thought it was time to leave. “I'll let you sleep now, but I do need to know where Caitlin lives, who to contact.”

“Her husband. Phil Avery.” Her voice now breathless, she gave Susan an address and phone number.

“I'll talk with you more later. Try not to think too much and just concentrate on getting well.”

Worry came back to cloud her eyes.

“Is there anything you need?” Susan asked.

“The dog—Lynnelle's dog. She's in the house. She'll starve. She—”

“I'll take care of her. Don't worry.”

Susan stopped at the nurses' station to ask where Parkhurst was, then took the elevator down a floor and paused in the open doorway. Parkhurst lay on his side with his eyes closed; face gray, dark circles under his eyes, dark stubble of beard.

She came in quietly and sat in the chair by the bed. Almost immediately, his eyes opened, gazed at her unknowing and then focused.

“Hi,” she said softly. “How are you?”

“Fine.” He flopped onto his back and doubled the pillow behind his head. “Edie?”

“She didn't make it.”

He closed his eyes, took a breath and blew it out. “You know, Susan, we didn't exactly shine through any of this.”

“True.” They were almost too slow for Carena Egersund and would have been if it wasn't for the dog. Caitlin was in a padded room staring at the wall. Edie was dead. Her parents had lost a daughter, her daughter had lost a mother. Susan stood and hitched the strap of her handbag higher on her shoulder. “I'll try to spring you out of here tomorrow.”

*   *   *

For a week, the
Herald
ran lurid headlines along the lines of “Creighton Well Claims Next Victim,” “Tragedy Strikes Twice,” “Is There a Curse On The Creighton Place?”

On the following Sunday morning when Susan scooped up the newspaper from the driveway, she noticed crocuses poking up green shoots through snowy slush and smiled at them ridiculously. Snapping off the rubber band, she unfolded the paper and glanced at the headline.
UNSEASONABLE WEATHER
.

The sun, so warm the air smelled sweet, sparkled through the trees with the bright light of premature spring. A pair of cardinals dipped and swooped like scarlet kites through the blue sky. After she took the dog back, she had the whole day free, and Daniel's clothes waited in the closet.

 

Also by Charlene Weir

The Winter Widow

CONSIDER THE CROWS
. Copyright © 1993 by Charlene Weir. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

ISBN 0-312-09772-7 (hardcover)

eISBN 9781466834521

First eBook edition: November 2012