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Authors: Linda Hall

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BOOK: Critical Impact
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So he kept busy. If he was working on a case, he would work on that long into the night. When he didn't have a case, he would watch sports on television, anything to anesthetize his mind.

The long lines of the sun were slanting over Whisper Lake when Stu drove slowly down the driveway past the Seeley mansion. Marg's car was parked at an odd angle to the house, as if she had quickly driven in, stopped the car and jumped out. Stu wondered why she hadn't put it in their four-car garage.

It seemed that every light in the entire place was on. And, should her front door be wide open like that? Maybe he needed to check on her. One of the things he hadn't done yet, but wanted to, was to head down to Portland to visit Johnny. According to reports, Johnny was still in a medically induced coma. He had broken his thighbone, lost a lot of blood and been transfused. They were also worried about his heart. He had almost died, were it not for the quick intervention of the EMTs
on hand at City Hall, preparing for the mock disaster. As soon as he was out of the coma and stabilized, they would be transferring him to Whisper Lake Crossing Hospital. No one was sure when that would be.

He parked the cruiser next to Marg's and got out. He thought again about the person he had seen next to the hospital elevator, and the way that man had looked at him.

Maybe this case was making him a bit crazy. First, there had been that silver car. And then the man in green scrubs with a cart full of pillows. He had gotten mere hours of sleep during the past couple of days. That was all this was. A good night's sleep and he would get his perspective back.

Run in, check on Marg, then get home, plop himself down in front of the television and snooze.

His legs felt leaden as he walked up the wide steps to the Seeleys' front entrance. He didn't see her through the open door. He pressed the bell. No answer.

“Marg?”

He heard music. It was some sort of church choir music, and as he entered the foyer it sounded like it was coming from the kitchen. He called her name again. Still no answer.

The choir was louder in here. When Johnny was away on business, Stu made a point of checking in on Marg every day to make sure she was okay. By her own admission, being alone frightened her. She
had even told him that one of the reasons they were so eager to have him rent from them was because he was a law enforcement officer.

“I just feel safe knowing you're down here,” she had told him once.

The Seeley cat came and meowed against his ankles, loudly. He bent down and patted the soft head. “Hey, Spike, anyone home here?”

He was standing in the foyer, but didn't want to venture farther and end up frightening Marg.

He called loudly, “Marg! Hey! Your door was open! You home?”

Despite the fact that the lights everywhere else were on, the hallway was dark. He called again. Still no answer. Just more meows around his ankles. He ventured farther.

He saw movement in the kitchen, faint shadows. He stood in the doorway.

Marg was sitting at the table, bent over a laptop computer and furiously punching keys. The frown lines around her face were more pronounced and her short hair was slicked back in pins. The loud choir music was coming from a stereo on the kitchen counter. Even though he was calling her name, she couldn't hear him. Or she was so absorbed in her work that nothing else mattered.

He walked over and flicked off the stereo.

“Stu!” She gasped when she saw him and crashed
the lid down on the top of her laptop so hard he was sure she must have broken it.

“Sorry I scared you, Marg. Do you know your front door is open?” On the counter was a bag of cat food. He poured some into a bowl for Spike. He added water to the other bowl. Both were empty.

“Open?” Her eyes went wide. “I thought I locked it. I was just… I locked it. I
know
I did.” She was fumbling for words. “I was just doing some work on my church's Web site. I work on it you know. I'm sort of self-taught on the computer. There was no one else who could do it so I volunteered.”

It seemed to Stu that she was coming up with explanations and excuses that didn't matter.

She kept casting glances at the top of her laptop while she talked, as if whatever was on there would jump out and show itself.

“Marg?” He sat down across from her. “Are you okay? Do you want me to check around your house?”

She nodded. “If you wouldn't mind. I can't believe my door was open.”

She picked up her laptop, clutched it to her chest and followed him around while he checked all the windows and doors. Marg talked as she walked.

“That girl,” Marg was saying. “Claire. That one. She shouldn't have died.”

“Two girls died, Marg.”

“Oh. Two.” Her eyes bright and wet. “They
shouldn't have died, then. The two of them. So young. So much to live for. It's so very sad. And wrong.” She shook her head. “The whole thing was a mistake. It should never have happened.”

“No. It shouldn't have. How's Johnny doing?”

“Okay.” She put one hand to her cheek, but kept the other firmly around her computer. “They say he'll be okay. In a couple of days they'll be bringing him to the hospital here.”

“You've been down to see him?”

She shook her head. “Lois and I are going to go tomorrow. She's going to drive me. I just feel too shaky to drive myself.”

“Good. I'm glad you have a friend to go with you. And, Marg, we're doing everything we can to find out who did this. And we will.”

Instead of making her feel better, this assurance seemed to make her more trembly. Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh,” she sobbed, “I just can't get my head around this.”

Stu was reluctant to leave her. She seemed so distraught. “Is there someone I can call, Marg? Do you want me to call Lois to come and stay with you?”

She nodded, swallowed and then said, “Do you think Anna Barker had something to do with it? With killing those girls and injuring my husband?”

“Anna?” Stu was stunned. “What makes you say that?”

“She was there,” Marg said. “She was the least
injured of all of them. I've been doing a lot of thinking.” She patted her computer. “Even looking up things on the Internet. She almost escaped. She would have, but then the building fell down on her. I don't think she counted on that. I keep wondering if she did this, if she is responsible.”

Stu said, “Anna was almost killed herself….”

“But that's it. That's it. The word is
almost
. She didn't die. I don't know, I just keep thinking about it. I keep going over it and over it.”

How could she accuse Anna? That didn't make sense. And then he realized that he didn't really know anything about Anna. Could she have been responsible for the bombing? Maybe everything she had told him up to this point was a lie.

SIX

O
ne week later, Anna was finally going to be released from the hospital. Catherine and Stu were at the hospital to pick her up. They would be driving her to the cottage her mother shared with her aunt Lois. Anna, equipped with physiotherapy exercises, was ready to begin again. The gashes on her face were healing nicely. Her white plaster cast had been exchanged for a fiberglass one with finger openings and a special pink cast over her hand.

She was told that her hand might require more surgery. It would probably be close to six months before she could use it well, and maybe a year before she got full mobility back.

She was glad that Stu had come with her mother to take her home. Lois hadn't come. She was with Marg and the two of them were home watching television. There was some sort of a television press conference that included the mayors of Whisper Lake Crossing, Shawnigan and DeLorme. The conference would be
broadcast from Whisper Lake Crossing Hospital at Johnny Seeley's bed, after he had emerged from his coma. Two days ago they had moved him here from Portland.

As far as Anna knew, there were still no suspects in the bombing. But there might be suspects that Stu hadn't told her about. She also knew they still hadn't found Peter.

She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

Even though she loved her mother, she wasn't looking forward to living with her and her aunt. On more than one occasion, Lois let it be known that she thought Anna's profession was frivolous, and not one that a Christian girl should aspire to.

Anna's temporary room would be the many-windowed parlor in the front of the cottage. With its large windows on three sides, it was her favorite room in the entire cottage. She and her mother had moved into this house when Anna was twelve. One of its features was a huge wraparound front porch. Catherine decided that part of the porch could be windowed in and turned into a solarium or parlor. Her mother had even added a little reading nook with its own overhead light. Anna was looking forward to seeing that.

“It'll be comfy, cozy and warm,” she said.

There were two bathrooms in her mother's cottage. One was an ensuite off the master bedroom, her mother's room. Anna would be sharing the second bathroom with her aunt Lois.

Even though she would be recuperating at her mother's, she decided to leave most of her things at her rented place at Flower Cottage, which was only a five-minute walk along the beach.

She was hoping she wouldn't be too much of a bother to the two women, or they to her. She had come to relish her independence. During the past week in the hospital, the physiotherapist had taught her how to begin using her left hand more. She was practicing and getting pretty good at it. She could eat soup without slopping, and she had even learned how to care for her own hair. She hadn't mastered her contact lenses, but she was getting used to her glasses.

Over the last week, and to her delight, she and Stu had become friends. He was pushing her wheelchair now, her bags slung on his shoulder, and the intimacy of this act tugged at her heart.

He settled her into the passenger seat of his car, even though she said she was fine in the backseat and that Catherine should sit in the front. Catherine wouldn't hear of it, however.

Anna really did feel well. It was nice to be out of the hospital and in the bright sunshine of late autumn. There was friendly banter between the three of them on the way home, Anna exclaiming about the sun and her mother declaring how good it was to have Anna on the road back to full health.

When Stu turned the corner, she saw that two tele
vision vans were parked right in front of her mother's cottage.

“This is why I wanted to come with you,” Stu said. “I had a feeling this would happen.”

“What do we do? Why are they here?” Anna asked.

“My guess is they want to talk with you,” Stu said. He stopped the car. “I'll take care of it. You ladies just wait here for a minute.”

A pretty woman got out of the van, along with a cameraman. Anna watched Stu walk over to her and pull out his wallet to show her his Sheriff's Department badge. Stu smiled at the woman. The woman smiled at him. Stu put his wallet away. It seemed to work. Because by the time Stu had walked back to the car, the van had driven away.

Catherine said, “My, you really charmed her.”

“You're right, Catherine. I'm such a charmer,” Stu said.

Anna smiled. She enjoyed the easy way her mother and Stu were getting along. Around the fourth day of Anna's hospital stay, her mother had suggested that Stu call her Catherine. Anna also reflected on the fact that during this past week she and her mother had gotten much closer, almost closer than they had ever been before. Stu insisted that Anna take his arm and the three of them walked up the front porch.

Leaning against the porch were the old panes of glass from the original windows.

Catherine looked at them and said, “Oh, good. I'm so glad the new windows are in. Everything is ready for you now.”

“I can take this glass away for you if you'd like,” Stu said.

Catherine waved her hand. “Oh, no. Don't bother. I have a man from church coming to get it all.”

“But this could be dangerous. There are a few sharp pieces here,” he said, examining them.

“I'll call him when we get in. Maybe he can come today.”

Lois and Marg were sitting in the living room with the television on when Anna, Stu and her mother went inside the cottage.

Catherine stopped when she saw them. “I thought the two of you were going to be at Marg's.”

“Her television is broken,” Lois said.

Anna thought this was strange. She was sure Johnny Seeley would have two or three flat-screen TVs in that big house. Here there was only one small television.

“Hello, Lois,” Anna said. “And Marg.”

“So nice to have you home, Anna,” Lois said. “I like the pink cast.”

Anna carefully raised her right arm. “It is kinda cute, isn't it? I had my choice of colors.”

Last week Marg had demanded to be kept up-to-date on the case, yet today Marg's face was glued to
the news channel. She barely acknowledged Anna or Stu.

Lois rose and said, “I'm sure you're wondering about bathroom arrangements.”

Anna wasn't, but while Stu carried her bags into the parlor and Catherine brought her many vases of flowers into the house, Lois said, “Come with me and I'll show you the bathroom situation.”

Anna followed her into the second bathroom. “You and I will be sharing a bathroom. We've got a new handheld shower attachment. We also had some grab bars installed, but you ask me, their placement is going to cause more trouble than they're worth.” She continued, “This half of the vanity is mine. The other side and that towel rack is yours.”

Lois had moved all her bottles, hairpins, spray and pill bottles onto her side.

“It's okay, Aunt Lois. I don't want to cause any problems. I'll keep my cosmetics in my bedroom. I'll just keep my toothbrush in here.”

“Well, I don't want to cause any trouble, either, but when you're used to doing things a certain way for so long, it gets hard to change. I've already laid out your towels. Mine are yellow and yours are pink.”

“Oh, good. They'll match my cast.”

When Anna had had the full tour, including what went under each cupboard and what went above, she followed her aunt back to the living room, where Marg
was still staring at the television. “It's going to begin soon,” she said.

Catherine and Stu were in the parlor and deep in conversation about the new windows and how “safe” they were when Anna came in. The parlor looked charming, the daybed was made up with a spread Anna remembered from childhood—one covered with pink ponies. For privacy, all the blinds were drawn. One of the far windows was open, letting in the warmth of the evening.

“It's almost press time!” Marg called. Anna went back into the parlor.

Stu followed Catherine into the kitchen to get some glasses of lemonade ready and Anna took the time to do a bit of one-handed unpacking in her bedroom. Anna had certain places she wanted to put things. Her Bible went on the nightstand, and the fashion magazines and novels she was reading would go on the table in the little reading nook next to the bay window. It would be a great place to cozy up and read for an evening on the easy chair.

She was about to join the women in the living room when she heard Lois say to Marg, “I just can't help but think that this whole thing is the beginning of God's judgment. It may be what we've all been praying for.”

Anna paused, wondering what they were talking about. What was God's judgment? She was fairly
certain the women didn't know she could hear them, standing as she was behind the door.

Her aunt continued, “We've been praying that God would send his fires of judgment on our immoral nation. The bombing of City Hall may only be the beginning.”

Anna froze, felt her face go hot. Why was her aunt saying this? Especially to Marg, who almost lost her husband in the bombing? How could her aunt be so callous?

Anna looked through the crack in the door. Instead of arguing, Marg was saying quietly, “But I didn't expect it to happen exactly this way.”

Lois said, “None of us did, dear. But who knows the ways of God?”

Anna had heard enough. She couldn't let Marg suffer like this anymore. She entered the room. “Hello, ladies,” Anna said as brightly as she could.

At that moment Stu and Catherine came in with a tray of lemonade and cookies. The press conference was about to begin. Anna wasn't sure she wanted to see it, but knew she would regret it if she didn't. She sat down on the couch. She took her arm out of the cotton sling and rested it on a pillow. Stu sat beside her.

Moments later the news program cut to Whisper Lake Crossing Hospital and the room where Johnny was in bed, his leg elevated in a full cast. He was flanked on either side by the two other mayors, and
microphones were set up on a table in front of them. Each of the news affiliates made sure their corporate logo faced the cameras.

Johnny took the lead, as Anna knew he would. He always liked to be front and center of everything. “My friends, we have had a disaster, the likes of which we in our Whisper Lake communities have not experienced before. Our towns are peaceful. In our communities, you don't even need to lock your doors. That's the kind of place I grew up in. That's the kind of place I want to live in again, a place where neighbors take care of neighbors, the kind of neighbors where you can borrow a cup of flour in the middle of the night….”

Anna tried not to roll her eyes.

“But, my friends and fellow Whisper Lakers, we have experienced tragedy.” He paused dramatically.

“The tragic loss of two of our precious young women, the wanton destruction of our landmark building. My colleagues and I promise you one thing. We will not rest until these terrorists are brought to justice, until the safety of our communities is restored….”

Anna leaned her head against the back of the couch, closed her eyes and didn't listen to the rest. She wondered if what Lois said could have any grains of truth in it. Could God be punishing her for something? Maybe going to California hadn't been His will. Or getting involved with Peter.
But I thought he was a Christian,
she argued with herself.
He told me that
he and I shared the same values. Maybe I should've been more discerning. Maybe losing my right hand, even for a short time, is God's punishment.
She felt tears gather in her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Stu asked her softly.

“Just thinking.”

“You know that can be dangerous.”

“You're telling me.”

When the press conference was over, Catherine suggested that Stu and Anna take their unfinished lemonades outside on the porch and watch the sunset on the lake.

Stu looked down at Anna. “If Anna's not too tired.”

“I'm not.” She wasn't, not if it meant spending more time with Stu.

Marg and Lois were still watching the news and Catherine decided to read a book in her room.

The outdoor two-person swing was something that her father made before he died. It had been sanded, repainted and repaired many times and was still in perfect working order.

“You grew up in this house?” Stu asked.

“I was born in Bangor. We bought this place when I was little. When I was ten, my father passed away. Eventually, we sold the house in the city and my mother and I moved here.”

“Those look nice.” He was pointing at a large set
of bamboo wind chimes hanging from the roof of the porch.

“I don't know where my mother got those. They've been here forever.”

He got up and gently rattled them with his hand. The sound the chimes made was deep and hollow and woody.

She took a sip of the lemonade. It was tart, just the way she liked it.

“How long has your aunt lived here?” Stu asked.

“Around two years.”

She looked at her sandaled feet. He sat down beside her again and gently moved the swing back and forth. A long time ago she would sit on the swing, her father beside her, holding her hand. It was so long ago she was even forgetting what he looked like. But she would always remember his hand holding hers, always gentle, always warm. She told Stu about him.

He said he would have liked to meet him.

As they sat there chatting about inconsequential things, she was conscious of his presence next to her, the two of them brought together by tragedy.

“Are you any closer to finding out who was responsible for the bombing?” she asked.

“We're working on a few leads.”

She looked at him and smiled. “Which means there are lots of things you can't tell me.”

“I'm telling you everything I can. Believe me, Anna. I'm not hiding anything.”

Anna said, “I know you're good friends with Marg and Johnny. How is Marg taking all this? She seems so confused. I really feel sorry for her. I was thinking of trying to get to know her.”

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