Lowcountry Boneyard (25 page)

Twenty-Seven

We’d taken what we needed from Nate’s condo when we left for lunch, so we left McDaniel Avenue and headed for Charleston. As Nate pulled onto I-385, I dialed the number he’d scored from the walker. Because we were still using the prepaid phones, the Sync system in the car wasn’t working. I put the phone on speaker so Nate could hear.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I’m trying to reach Lynda Lawrence?”

“This is Doctor Lawrence.”

“Of course—my apologies. Doctor Lawrence, my name is Liz Talbot. I’m a private investigator, retained by the family of Kent Heyward in the matter of her disappearance. You may have heard about it in the news.”

“Yes, of course. That poor girl. Have they found her? I saw where her car was found—just awful.”

“No, she hasn’t been found yet, but as you might imagine, time is of the essence.”

“How can I help?” She sounded truly confused.

“Through a rather complicated series of events, our investigation has led us to a patient of your father’s from the early eighties. I wondered if we might speak to him.”

She was quiet for a long stretch. “Dad isn’t well.”

“I understand. I promise we won’t stay long. Just a couple questions.”

“I don’t think he can help you. Dad has Alzheimer’s disease. He has good days and bad days, but for the most part his memory is gone.”

Alzheimer’s. Such a cruel diagnosis. I felt bad for the doctor and his family, and ashamed that it also occurred to me this was the worst possible thing he could have in terms of being able to help us. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I know that must be terribly difficult for you both. I wouldn’t ask, except a young girl’s life may well be at stake. Could we please try? We’re in Greenville right now, but we’ll be back in Charleston in a few hours.”

“Let me speak to his doctor. If he says it’s okay, that’ll be fine. I have your number on my cell.”

“Thank you so much. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”

“It could be a couple of days. Between my schedule and his, sometimes it’s difficult to connect with Dad’s doctor.”

“I understand. Thank you for anything you can do.”

“I’ll be in touch.” She ended the call.

“Something tells me the doctor at the facility isn’t going to allow us to speak with her father,” said Nate.

“I have that feeling, too, though I’d be surprised to learn she actually spoke to the facility doctor.”

“We may have to arrange for flowers—maybe a potted plant—to be delivered to the good doctor. Florists with a delivery to make often call around looking for patients.”

“Indeed,” I said.

“I’d say what we’ve learned supports your working narrative pretty well.”

“It also explains why someone invested in hired muscle to scare me off. I was questioning Evan. It’s not that the Bounetheaus didn’t want me looking for Kent. They wanted me to leave Evan alone. Or possibly they just wanted Virginia’s past kept in the past.”

Nate said, “But that would mean that whoever hired those guys honestly believes there’s no connection between Evan and his background and Kent’s disappearance.”

“Just because they want to believe that doesn’t make it true.”

“I wonder if Evan knows who his family is.”

“I doubt it,” I said. “My guess is Talitha might’ve planned to tell him at some point, but she died unexpectedly. Part of her deal all these years had to be discretion, and the Bounetheaus paid her a lot of money for that.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“It was either Abigail and/or C.C., or possibly Virginia, who hired the thugs, though I think Virginia’s a long shot.”

We bounced theories back and forth all the way back to Orangeburg, where we stopped for a break. When we got back in the car, Colleen was in the backseat. Her expression was grim.

“You know what?” I said to Nate. “I’d love a Cheerwine. I’m sorry. I should’ve gotten it while we were inside. Do you want anything?”

“I’ll get it. Be right back.” He got out of the car and headed back into the convenience store.

“What’s wrong?” I asked Colleen.

“Ask Nate to let you drive.”

“Why?”

“We don’t have time for why. Just listen. You drive. Drive as slow as you can. Stay as far away from other cars as you possibly can. Don’t take your sunglasses off.”

“What in the world? Colleen—”

“Avoid the trees.”

Nate climbed back in the car and handed me my Cheerwine.

“Thank you. Hey listen, you’ve been driving a while. Why don’t you relax and let me drive a bit?”

“I’m fine, but thanks.”

“Nate Andrews, do you not trust my driving?”

I reached for indignant, but I was anxious. What was going on?

“It’s not that.”

“Then let me drive.”

I got out of the car and walked around to his side.

He shrugged, unbuckled his seatbelt, and got out of the car.

I got in and adjusted the seat and mirrors. When I looked into the rearview, Colleen was gone. I took a long swig of Cheerwine. The section of I-26 not too far in front of us, between I-95 and Summerville, was one of the most dangerous sections of highway in the country. Hundreds of people had been injured in accidents there over the past several years. Many had died. I put both hands on the steering wheel and squared my shoulders.

Traffic was heavy. I eased back onto the interstate, trying my best to stay away from other cars. The speed limit was seventy. I held it at sixty-eight and stayed in the right lane.

After a bit, I found a spot several car lengths from the Escalade in front of me and kept my speed steady.

A stream of cars passed me. I could feel Nate studying me, but I kept my eyes on the road.

After a few minutes, he said, “You turned awful quiet. Anything you want to talk about?”

“Just focused on driving is all.”

“If you say so.”

The median between the east and westbound lanes was wide, the topography varied from flat to ravine. Clumps of trees appeared in the passing landscape. Gradually, they became thicker until few gaps broke the tree line. The shoulder dropped off steeply. Twenty minutes after we left Orangeburg, we crossed under I-95. My hands at nine and three, I gripped the steering wheel.

For long stretches, dense swamp crowded the right shoulder. Just past mile marker 188, the Escalade slowed way down. I thought maybe the driver had car trouble and was looking for a spot to pull over. But the SUV just kept going slower and held the lane.

“What’s up with this guy?” Nate said. “The speed limit is seventy.”

I signaled to pass. A motorcycle whizzed by us.

I pulled into the left lane. As soon as I passed the Escalade, it pulled in behind me.

A blinding white light shot through the windshield.

“What the hell?” Nate yelled.

I fought the urge to cover my eyes. Behind my sunglasses, I squinted, tried to see around the light. It was too bright and too big.

Beneath us, the surface changed. The tires rolled over the shoulder. I was drifting left, towards a deadly stand of trees in the median. If I overcorrected, I could slam into someone in the right lane. I braked.

The light was unrelenting.

Nate spat out a string of curses.

I slowed as much as I could and tried to ease over into the median, praying for a break in the tree line.

I must’ve caught a section of the median where it fell off steeply. The Explorer pitched.

I pulled right on the steering wheel.

The car teetered.

We rolled.

Time seemed to stop.

Airbags popped open. Brightly colored shimmers of light filled the air. Colleen?

The car slammed into timber.

Blackness.

I heard voices. I tried to open my eyes but couldn’t. The voices faded. I slipped away.

Later, hours or days, I couldn’t tell, I heard Merry talking. “It’s time for you to wake up now. What do you want to hear today? More
Pillars of the Earth
or People Magazine? I could sing.”

I groaned, or tried.  So thirsty.

“Liz?” Merry’s voice was urgent. “Liz? Please wake up. Hey! Somebody? Get a doctor in here. She made a noise.”

Where was I?

Nate.

Oh Sweet Lord. Where was Nate? The car had rolled.

I mustered everything within me and opened my eyes.

“She’s awake!” Merry jumped up and down. “Can you hear me?”

I blinked. I couldn’t talk. My throat was so dry, my lips parched. I worked to make one word come out of my mouth.
Nate
.

Merry disappeared. “
Hey
! My sister’s awake. Get a doctor.
Now
,” she roared.

She came back to the bed and took my hand. Tears streamed down her face. “You’re awake.”

I blinked back tears. I tried squeezing her hand. How could I communicate with her? I was desperate to know that Nate was all right.

“You’ve been out for two days,” she said. “I’ve got to call Mamma and Daddy. They just went to get coffee.”

By the time she’d summoned our parents and called Blake, a doctor appeared and ran them all out.

“Liz, I’m Doctor Young,” she said. “Do you remember what happened?”

I blinked. Then tried a nod. I could nod. Progress.

She shined a light in my eyes, checked me over.

“You’re at MUSC. Today is Friday.”

Friday? We’d been driving home Wednesday evening.

She reached for a cup and put a straw to my lips. “I know you’re thirsty, but just a few sips right now, okay?”

I nodded again. Oh dear heaven, that water tasted good. I took two sips. “Nate?” I forced his name out. My voiced sounded like a ninety-year-old smoker’s.

“Mr. Andrews is down the hall. His injuries—both your injuries—are miraculously minor given the condition of the car you were driving. You’re both bruised up badly. But aside from the fact we couldn’t get you to wake up for two days, nothing to worry about. You have a nasty concussion. We were afraid it might’ve been a fracture, but your CT scan is clear. We’ve had you both under observation for internal injuries, because, frankly, none of us can believe you don’t have any. Do you remember who pulled you out of the car? The highway patrol officers haven’t been able to find your Good Samaritan.”

“No,” I said.

“The officers asked me to call when you woke up.”

I nodded.

“I’ll give you some time with your family.”

“Thank you. Can I see Nate?”

She smiled. “I don’t think a team of mules could keep him away once I let him know you’re awake. He’s been sitting in that chair by your bed ever since he regained consciousness. I believe your sister ran him back to his own bed an hour or so ago.”

“Sounds like Merry.”

“I’ll check back in with you before I leave today. You can go home tomorrow provided you remain stable.”

“Thank you.” Thank God. Thank Colleen.

She walked out and left the door propped open. In a rush came Mamma, Daddy, Merry, Joe Eaddy, and Blake. And Nate. He walked towards me safe and whole and I started bawling.

Mamma said, “Liz, honey, are you all right? Frank, get the doctor.”

Daddy said, “Well, she just left, Caroline. Tutie’s just happy to see us.” Daddy looked me over, reassuring himself.

Merry said, “What do you need? You want some more water? Are you in pain?”

Mamma said, “Merry, close those blinds, it’s too bright in here.”

Blake walked up to the side of the bed. He was rubbing the back of his neck, his stress tell. “About time you woke up. What the hell happened? Nate said someone blinded you.”

I nodded. I was still tired, and I had a lot to process.  

Then they were all talking at once, everyone telling the others to be quiet and let me rest. Over the roar, Daddy said, “Why don’t we let Nate here have the chair? None of the rest of us is banged up.”

“Thank you, Mr. Talbot.”

“I told you before. Frank will be fine. Here, sit down.”

Nate did as he was told and reached for my hand. “You had us worried, Slugger. I need to hear you tell me you’re okay.” His eyes glistened, too.  

“I’m fine. Are you okay?”

“Unaccountably. Truck’s totaled. Caught fire. Exploded. Apparently, we slept through a hell of a mess. I have no idea who pulled us out and away from there. One of the highway patrolmen said the first guy on the scene saw a red-haired teenage girl dragging me over by you—about twenty yards from the truck—but she disappeared.”

Colleen. Colleen pulled us out. She’d been there. I remembered her shimmers.

Nate said, “I don’t think I’m going to buy another grey Explorer. That combination hasn’t been real lucky for us.” He smiled weakly. The last one he’d had just like it had ended up in the water.

I smiled back at him and squeezed his hand.

“It’s a good thing you were driving,” he said. “I wasn’t going to say anything because I didn’t want to fight with you, but you were driving fifteen miles an hour slower than I would’ve been. Probably saved both our lives.”

“I have a strong suspicion how so many Ingles have ended up dead in car accidents,” I said.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

Mamma approached the other side of the bed. “Here, sugar, this will make you feel better.” She bathed my face with a cool cloth.

“Thank you, Mamma.”

“Here now, put on a little lipstick.” She handed me a tube of Estee Lauder.