Never Hug a Mugger on Quadra Island (27 page)

With a glance at the back seat—Alana absorbed in her electronic device—Kyra said softly, “Any thought of why Green Van wanted to push two investigators into the bush?”

Investigators. She'd used his preferred word, not hers:
Snoop.

“Someone worried about us snooping. Taking over the woodlot business was a notion but, if Shane wasn't the intended victim, that perfectly good theory's shot.”

Kyra inhaled, and winced. Her stomach had been crampy off and on since brunch; shouldn't have eaten so many garlic cloves? “What is the Coopers' most prized or valuable thing?”

“The woodlot?”

“Shane.” Alana, from the back seat, one earphone out.

“Huh?” Kyra swiveled around.

“Sponsorships. If you've won major prizes, Worlds or Olympics. Shane's worth more than a woodlot. In money. I don't mean love and stuff. I bet he'll be worth megabucks when his leg heals.” She re-anchored her earphone.

The miles sped by. Kyra ignored creek signs, Elk Crossing signs, extensive fences. “Who benefits if Shane is out of competition?” More cramps. Did she have to pee, was she going to dribble?

“A competitor?” Noel finally ventured.

“There were those two American women, one slashed the other with her skate blade. A real scandal.”

“I remember.” He mused. “Needs Internet investigation.”

The first exit to Campbell River appeared. Good thing, Kyra thought, she was feeling crampier and squirmy and—was she going to throw up? No, she was peeing, no she was— “Noel, I'm bleeding!”

Noel glanced over and the car swerved to the right. “Bleeding?!” He looked ahead, straightened and slowed.

Alana, earphones down, leaned forward and touched Kyra's shoulder. “Do you hurt?”

“Don't know yet. Quite bloody.” She shifted to look at the car seat. “Yep, bloody. A rental car. I don't have any pads— Damn!”

“Hospital, next stop.” Noel speeded up.

•  •  •

They wouldn't let Noel see Kyra after they'd put her in an Emergency cubicle. She needed privacy, the nurse said. Alana agreed to stay in the waiting room while Noel headed upstairs to find out about Derek.

Jason was slumped on a chair across the hall from the room. When he heard Noel approach his head jerked up and he half-smiled. “Hi. You made good time.”

“Yeah.” Noel checked his watch. Just after 8:30. “How is he?”

“None of his doctors are on and the nurses won't say. Not even to Linda.”

“He was coming out of the coma?”

Jason's checked shirt and khaki pants looked disheveled. “He moved, his toes twitched. His eyelids fluttered but they didn't open . . .”

“And?”

Now Jason stared at Noel. “That's it.”

“Does that mean the beginning of the end of it?”

“Linda thinks maybe.”

“That's great!”

“Shit, he was almost back. And then—” Jason threw his hands open, giving up.

“Tell me what happened.”

“Timmy was here. Linda and I'd gone for a snack, then we'd checked on Shane. Oh god— His doctor says it'll take months before he can skate. If he doesn't heal completely before he tries anything, he could mess up his leg and limp the rest of his life.”

“I'm sorry, Jase—”

“Linda stayed with Shane and I came back and Timmy was stroking Derek's arm, and crying. He grinned, he said, ‘Derek's coming back.' That's when I saw his eyelids fluttering. They stopped and he lay still. Just like the last weeks. Timmy told me about his toes, he'd moved his right leg a little.”

“It's the right direction, Jase.”

“Yeah, I was thinking that so I told Tim to go to Shane's room and tell him and his mother, and get her over here. I sat with Derek and nothing more's happened.”

“This is a good hospital and they've been doing all they can for Derek and Shane. And now for Kyra.” Noel's specific anxiety climbed.

“Kyra?”

“She's in Emergency. She was pregnant and miscarried.”

“Oh god— The car accident?”

“Likely. She's staying overnight.”

“For a miscarriage?”

“Something else might have happened. What the accident did to her insides.”

“Oh Noel, I'm so sorry!”

“It's all pretty bad.”

“How're you doing?”

Noel shrugged. “Worried. I adore Kyra. I wasn't the father. Case you wondered.”

“Oh.” Jason's looked up. “I hadn't thought.”

“I'll look in on Derek.”

“Linda and Tim are there.”

“Just for a second. Let them know we're back.” He entered the room.

Tim sat on the bed, Linda in a chair. She said, “Jason told you?”

Noel nodded. He stepped over to the bed. “Derek, hear you're coming around. That's great!” No response; Noel hadn't expected any. He said, “I know about the visitor limits. You have my cell number. I'll leave the phone on.”

In the hall Jason said, “Linda's staying the night. I'm going back to Quadra with Tim on the 11:30, they've got the late run tonight. You and Alana can come with us. She can have Derek's room again. You can have Shane's or go to Barb's.”

If they released Kyra . . . “Thanks, Jase. I've got an errand. Won't be long.” He left, glanced at his watch—8:57—and headed down to Emergency. He felt useless. Nothing to do for the Cooper kids, and he couldn't see Kyra. Or—?

Alana was sitting in the waiting room, eyes closed, ear plugs installed, twitching to her private music. He touched her shoulder.

She bounced into consciousness. “Hi!” She smiled. “How's Derek?”

Noel explained. “And Kyra? Have you seen her?”

“No. It's only been twenty minutes since you left.”

No one at the nurse's station. He marched toward the curtain hiding Kyra's bed. He stage-whispered, “Kyra?”

“Yeah. Come in.”

He slid the curtain open. “How you doing?”

“I don't know what they want me in here for.” She hiked into a half-sitting position. “I'm okay.”

“You didn't look okay before. How're you feeling?”

“I'm fine.”

“Shit, Kyra, I mean about losing the baby and all.”

“The baby? What baby. A few cells. No name attached.”

“Don't—”

“Don't what? I feel grungy. Morose. Relieved. Empty. Like myself again? I don't know how I feel. My womb doesn't ache, if that's what you mean. Does my soul ache? I don't know. But I do feel like I want out of here.”

“Yeah.”

She slumped against the pillow. “How's Derek?”

He told her. “I'm going to have another chat with Sarah McDougal.”

Kyra didn't want Noel to go. Not without her. “If she's still awake.”

“It's still light out.”

“Okay. But find out when I can leave and come back.”

He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I will.”

It took fifteen minutes to find someone with information about Kyra's fate. She was definitely being kept overnight; they were waiting for a bed upstairs, ready shortly. He returned and told her this. “You want Alana to stay?”

“Yeah. If she wants to.”

He squeezed Kyra's hand. “See you soon.”

Alana paced, as if eager to head over to Kyra's bed but not daring. “How is she?”

“Wanting out but they're keeping her overnight. I've got to check something out. I'll be quick. You willing to stick around, make sure Kyra stays okay?”

“I'm planning on being here all night if she needs me.”

“Thanks, kiddo. You're great. They'll take Kyra upstairs. Try to go with her. It may not be allowed, but try anyway. I'll meet you there. Or here.”

She hugged him. “When will you come back?”

“Under an hour.”

•  •  •

Noel sat in the car figuring out what he knew, what he had to do. Set up an appointment with Shorty Barlow. He opened his cell phone, stared at it— He'd fought this piece of technology when Kyra had given it to him, became used to it, and then bought up for one with a camera. He located the number, and poked the keys.

“Barlow.” Grunted.

“Shorty, it's Noel Franklin.”

“Back sooner'n you thought.”

“Your invitation still open, to watch those videos of Shane?”

“Sure, but not tonight. I got a visitor.”

“Couldn't do it tonight. How's tomorrow, mid-morning? You working?”

“I'm off, that's fine.” He gave Noel the address. “Ten-thirty. I'll have coffee going. You want it with brandy, you'll have to bring it.”

“See you then.” Noel closed the phone, checked the map and erred his way to Sarah McDougal's place. On the north side of the street with the sun low, Mrs. McDougal sat on the porch with a younger woman, both sipping something. He strolled up the walk. “Hello Mrs. McDougal. Remember me?”

“Asking about the kid who was beaten? This is my daughter. Like some ice tea?”

“No thanks. That vehicle across the street that night. Was it a truck or a van?”

“It was dark, and my old eyes . . .”

“You said there was a moon. Will you close your eyes and try to see it?”

Sarah McDougal closed her eyes, “Say, this is interesting . . .” She nodded again, and opened her eyes. “A van.”

“Can you see what color?”

“It was night.” But she closed her eyes again. “Grey maybe, or green. Not blue or red, nothing bright. Not black. Yes, grey maybe. Or green. Maybe grey-green.”

“Thanks,” said Noel, “that's a help. Enjoy your tea.”

On the way down the hill he saw an open store and decided to treat the bloodstained seat to some enzymatic cleaning product. He was provided with a “guaranteed miracle” product. He bought a roll of paper towels too.

Back at the hospital lot, he left the door open to keep the overhead light on. He scrubbed at the blood with the product. He wouldn't know until morning if it worked. But the rental company probably dealt with blood and guts every day.

He didn't like Kyra alone in a hospital room. He had no choice. After visiting hours, Alana had been told, no one was allowed upstairs—not to see Derek or Shane, let alone Kyra. So he and Alana waited for Jason to appear. He'd take an early morning ferry back. Alana could stay on Quadra or come with him. Likely come, Noel figured. To see Shorty's tapes of Shane skating.

•  •  •

Which is more or less how it worked out. Tim and Jason appeared, Linda spending the night in Derek's room. With two sons in the hospital, the administration wouldn't send home a caring mother and a nurse who knew the place intimately. None of them, Jason made it clear, would be any help tonight. “Let's go get some sleep.” They left the rental Honda at the hospital and headed to the wharf in Jason's Toyota. The ferry plowed across the Strait. They arrived at the Cooper house.

Alana and Tim went to their rooms. Jason offered Noel a nightcap: “Laphroaig?” Noel accepted. Jason poured. He raised his glass. “To Kyra's health.”

“To Derek's and Shane's.”

They sipped. Noel remembered the smooth peaty taste. He and Brendan had made a trip to Scotland and they'd been side-tracked from castles by single malt discoveries. Home in Nanaimo they bought the bottles they remembered best. But outside Scotland it tasted different. They'd gone back to vodka-tonics.

Noel and Jason sat in silence until Noel asked, “What's a woodlot worth?”

“To buy? Or lease?”

“Buy.”

“Depends on the size, where they are, quality of the timber, how much you're allowed to cut. Here, you can probably get a quarter section for $250,000 to $600,000.”

“Hundred sixty acres?”

“Usually measured in hectares now. Our land might go for $400,000. Not that I'd sell it, hope the boys won't either. And I'd never give up the licenses.”

Noel sipped more Laphroaig. “Look, ol' bud,” he said, “we think whoever hit the car didn't know Shane was in it. We think he thought Shane was me. He or they think we're sniffing too close to whatever.”

“Noel—that's terrible. I'm so sorry. Never thought I'd be putting you in danger.”

“Comes with the territory.” He had tried to sound tough but it came out softly. Yes, he could easily have been in the car.

•  •  •

In Derek's room Alana found the bed just as she'd left it yesterday. Barely thirty-six hours ago. Poor Kyra. That accident, then a miscarriage. Kyra's conversation on the beach with her mother and grandmother and her now made more sense. Could the accident and the miscarriage be connected? Come on, Alana, don't be stupid, a woman gets rattled around like that and of course she's going to lose a baby. The accident hadn't phased Kyra much, at least from how she talked. But what would a miscarriage do to her? Kyra seemed tough. Maybe she'd cope.

•  •  •

He'd felt it build as he drove off the ferry, his neck first, sliding down his shoulders, upper arms, hanging in the biceps seconds before hitting elbows and forearms, tingling his wrists, then hands. He flexed his fingers. Springy, ready to grab and bash. Weird how that came over him sometimes, the tingle that needed action. Lucky being in Campbell River tonight. Safer than on the island. More privacy there, but if you want a car in town you need the ferry and anybody can see you. Action in town safer than action on Quadra.

Good coincidence, this need for action and Saturday night. Charlie went to Saddleman's Wednesdays and Saturdays mostly. Now, how to get Charlie out sooner rather than later. Bad idea to go inside, who needed a roomful of witnesses. Charlie played late into the night, waiting for him in the truck would look suspicious.

He reached over to touch the bat. Sweet smooth oak, wouldn't crack in contact with a hardball. Or a skull. Better than golf clubs. He liked ribs too, three or four cracking from one blow. Charlie's ribs might be a little tougher to get at, that fat covering them. But everybody's got arms and legs—hell, elbows and kneecaps, good cracking sounds.