The Truth About Mallory Bain (31 page)

Sitting alone, quiet and contemplating all that I'd read, I closed my eyes and waited for Ben to appear. I longed for him, raging ghost or not. I ached to see his face again, hear his voice that I'd surely forgotten. I wanted Ben more than life.

I moved onto the sofa, lying there with the throw tossed carelessly over me. I cried for Lance. I pictured him smiling, willing to
give me his meal. I heard his laughter clearly inside my head. I hoped time would prove his gallant gesture had been nothing more than an innocuous game of dare.

Had my time with Lance betrayed Ben, whose spirit was perhaps selfish?

I held my breath, pretended death. Nothing lasts forever, except souls. Plants die. Animals die. Was I already odd wishing for my dead companion, my lover, whom I could not hold, or kiss, or physically share love? I wanted Ben with me forever. I'd never betray him. No matter his form, I wanted him with me, yet I was not willing to die to meet him.

The blaring of the doorbell knocked me off the sofa. Pounding followed the chimes. I'd fallen asleep. The house was pitch black, the draperies wide open.

“Mallory! Open up!”

“Sam!”

I scrambled around the coffee table and stumbled across the living room to the foyer and the front door. I flicked on the outdoor lights and indoor sconces, straightened my dress, and turned the lock. When I threw open the door, Sam Garcia stood before me disheveled and rain-soaked, shabby and soiled. He leaned against the house to keep himself upright.

“You're hurt!” I threw open the storm door and guided him in, out of the rain.

“Not me. Ronnie.” He wiped his wet face with his jacket sleeve. “She was run down. She needs us at the hospital.”

“Ohmygod, Sam, no!”

“I saw your car outside the garage so I figured you might be home with the lights off.”

“I fell asleep. What happened?”

“Coming out of the gym.”

“She's not unconscious?”

“Wasn't a while ago.”

“Let me grab my purse and shoes.”

Sam dropped his head into his palms and leaned against the wall between the guest closet and the powder room. Once we were inside the pickup, the wipers fell back and forth, numbing my nerves. I rallied a bit of strength. He and Ronnie needed me strong. The clock on the dash read four minutes after eight.

He reached for the pack of gum laying in one of the two cup holders in the console between us. He pulled out a stick and offered me the pack. I smelled spearmint.

“No, thanks,” I said.

“I don't know much, other than that it was an SUV,” Sam said. “I was at a jobsite when I got her call.”

“Nobody works out Friday after work.”

“Ronnie does. She likes having the place all to herself.”

“Not into group workouts?”

“Not really. You know, Dana used to go with her sometimes last summer.”

“I did not know that.”

“Not since Ronnie broke her arm. A neighbor was supposed to go tonight. Not sure what happened to the gal.”

“I suppose Ronnie's car is still at the gym.”

He kept his eyes on the road. “We can get it later, then I'll give you a lift home, if that works.”

“Sure. No problem.”

We rode in silence for a long while. Me, Lance, and now Ronnie. I was first, when I fell asleep at the wheel and slid into the lamppost.

The lights from the hospital campus were visible ahead. Sam pulled into the ramp and pressed the button. A ticket ejected.

“We'll find out more soon enough.” He stuffed the ticket inside his billfold.

The emergency room was organized chaos, likely to get busier as the night wore on. A big-eyed woman with short black hair smiled when we approached the long desk she sat behind.

“How may I help you?” She lifted her head slightly.

Sam spoke up. “We're here for Ronnie, I mean, Veronica Moore.”

“You must be her husband.” The woman clicked away on her keyboard.

Sadness spread across Sam's face. “Uh, no.” He looked at me instead of her. “I mean, we haven't discussed the . . .”

The woman looked at us, back and forth. “Are either of you relatives?”

Sam shuffled in place. “Her folks are, uh, Mallory . . .”

“Visiting family in Michigan. We're her closest friends. She asked us to come.”

The woman swiveled her chair around and spoke with one of the nurses standing behind her. Based on their nods and positive tone, we'd be able to see Ronnie soon.

“If you two are Mallory Bain and Sam Garcia, she gave consent for you to be her primary contacts,” said another nurse. “She's having tests done right now. The doctor will be out to give you an update and he can let you know when you're good to go in.” He pointed to the left. “The waiting room is through those doors.”

The short-haired woman interrupted, “Help yourself to coffee, tea, or cocoa in the waiting room. Down the long corridor to the left of the waiting room are vending machines across from the coffee shop, if you want soda pop or snacks. The coffee shop closed at four thirty.”

“Thank you.” I took Sam's arm.

“Anything else we can do for you?”

Sam paused. “We're good. Thanks.” He rested his arm across my shoulders. “Whew. Let's go sit.”

I led the way to a group of vacant chairs in the waiting area.

“Now we wait.” Sam stretched his long legs out in front of him. “I'll get you a coffee.”

“No, thanks. Later, maybe.” I squeezed his hand. “She's tough, Sam.”

He said nothing but nodded assent and gave my hand a squeeze back. He sat there glassy-eyed and quiet while I flipped through a magazine.

An elderly couple seated themselves in chairs across from us. They whispered to each other and paid us little attention after sizing us up, Sam in work clothes and me in a black dress and heels.

“These places give me the willies.” Sam rested his elbow on the arm of his chair and spoke more softly. “It's been a sorry week for you.”

“I'll cope. Eventually. Once I move past self-pity.”

“Life owes it to ya.”

I laid the magazine on the table beside me. “I think death is my new lot in life.”

“One bad spell you're goin' through.”

I smiled consolingly. “With any luck, cameras picked up what happened to her.”

He wrinkled his brow. “We can only hope.”

Close to twenty minutes later the double doors opened and a young man strode out. The black stethoscope draped around his neck gave him away as the doctor we'd been expecting. He called out Sam's name.

Sam jumped out of the chair with his hand extended to greet him.

“Doctor Mason, emergency physician.” He looked at Sam, and then me.

“Mallory Bain. Friend,” I introduced myself.

“Whenever Veronica wakes up, she asks for both of you.” His smile was warm and genuine. “Let's step over here where we can visit.” He extended his arm and gestured toward a small room across the way.

We each took a chair at the table in the center of the room.

“She's not unconscious?” asked Sam.

“Drowsy from medication. She may be more awake now. Her responses have been appropriate. No head injury. I'm hoping no internal injuries, other than the pelvic fracture.”

I shook my head in disbelief as he described her injuries.

“She said she heard an engine rev before the vehicle clipped her from behind.”

“Clipped her?” I asked.

“She said she never took a direct hit. She has extensive bruising over her back and hips, and down one leg. She scraped and contused both knees when she dropped down on the pavement to slide under a truck. She's finishing up in imaging right now.”

“Imaging?” asked Sam.

“X-ray. A scan to check for internal injuries. We'll keep her overnight and possibly until Sunday for observation. We may need additional diagnostics.”

“We'd like to see her,” I said.

“Her nurse will let you know. This ordeal gave Veronica an awful scare. She was near hysterical when they brought her in. Understandably so. We gave her sedation to settle her down, which is adding to her sleepiness besides the pain meds.”

“She needs rest,” said Sam.

Doctor Mason nodded in agreement. “So. I am available for questions. Just ask her nurse to track me down.”

“Good to know. Thank you,” said Sam, turning to me.

“Other than wanting to know who did this and why, I'm good as long as she is,” I said.

The doctor excused himself and we found our chairs unoccupied in the waiting area. I took out my phone and sat down.

Sam glanced down at my phone. “You'll be textin' your mom, huh.”

“I was thinking Dana maybe.”

“Nope. Don't do that.”

“Okay.”

Sam scratched his head. “Better talk to Ronnie, 'cause I oughta keep neutral.”

“Neutral?”

“Shoot.” He rubbed his forehead and folded his arms against his chest. “Ronnie claims Dana saw her on the ladder from inside the kitchen but pushed the backdoor open anyway. Deliberate.”

“That's cruel.”

“Yes, ma'am. Ronnie mighta broken her neck except for she landed on the shrubs.”

“Dana wouldn't intentionally hurt her.”

“Ronnie's thinkin' kill.”

My jaw dropped. “You are not serious.”

“Talk to Ronnie about the research she's done on those Norris people back in California before you go rulin' out her theories.”

“One of them killed somebody?”

“Yep. Dana. She ain't right in the head.”

“She's intelligent. She holds a full-time job.”

“Still a whackjob. Ronnie told you about the break-in?”

I shook my head.

“The day she broke her arm. Dana drove her to the emergency room. Said she had to leave to pick up her kid. When we got back to Ronnie's, the backdoor window was busted. Papers and pictures from Ronnie's research on the Norris's was tossed all over the place.”

“The intruder focused on the Norris research instead of valuables. May mean they were looking for something worth stealing.”

He shook his head and laughed. “They trashed the house. Staged to look ransacked.”

“Ronnie's computer?”

“Not taken.” Sam grinned. “And strong passwords.”

“You can't prove Dana broke in.”

“Can't prove she didn't. If I gave her the benefit of the doubt, I'd say she saw Ronnie but misgauged the distance between the ladder and the door. We've noticed how she shakes and twitches and claws at her neck and arms.”

“I haven't seen her clawing, though I once saw a bad scratch on her neck. Bruises she blamed on her daughter,” I added.

The Dana I knew had excelled in mathematics. Science came easy, even physics. No, Dana grasped the simple distance between the door and the ladder.

“She would need a motive.” I said.

“Jealousy. Ronnie's good lookin.'”

“As is Dana.”

“Ronnie says Dana never liked her. They were friends 'cause Ronnie was your friend first.”

“She had those feelings about Dana back in high school and college. I thought she was too self-conscious, so I told her to get over it.”

“Maybe she was on to somethin'.” Sam brought his hand to his chin and paused a moment before continuing. “The driver of that vehicle wanted her dead.”

I knew what he meant. Dana drove that SUV. Where she got the vehicle was anybody's guess. I shook my head, considering the possibilities.

“I'm finding few people like Dana, or Erik, for that matter. Even Lance was suspicious.”

“How so?”

“He called them insensitive and selfish. He suspected she poisoned the dessert I ate the night of their soirée. An uncommon sedative showed up on one of my lab tests, except I never took a sedative.”

Sam smiled consolingly. “Too early to know how he died, I guess.”

“I do know there was poison in his system. Don't know which one.” I stared down at my hands. “I can't ask his parents about the details, which they might not even know yet. I'm hoping Dana's neighbor Jillian will let me know if she and her husband find out. They've been kind to me. Like you.”

“You're kind, too, Mallory Bain. But you pay close attention around Dana. Keep your eye on the ball in case Ronnie's right. If Dana poisoned Lance, you run as fast as you can and never look back.”

The double doors opened again. After the nurse called our names, we followed him to Ronnie. She glanced up when I slid open the glass door, her eyes droopy. Sam bent down to kiss her.

She lifted her hand supporting the IV and touched his cheek. “You guys are here.” She spoke barely above a whisper.

I moved away from the door to the side of her bed opposite Sam and held her free hand in mine. “Your pain must be off the charts.”

“If I move, I hurt, so I don't. Their X-ray table needs memory foam,” Ronnie grimaced.

“I'll see about pain pills,” said Sam. He stepped out of the room.

“They told us you're staying overnight,” I said.

“I'm moving upstairs if the scan shows I'm free of any ‘immediate life-threatening injuries.'”

“I hope.”

“Thank God I'm alive. No internal bleeding, only the pelvis fracture.”

“I hope you noticed details about the car.”

“Dark red SUV. Tinted glass. I think a man, but the driver wore a cap. I saw dark gloved fingers on the steering wheel. He drove like a drunk, which is probably why he missed me. My gym bag took the brunt of the impact. It's destroyed.” She laid her arm across her forehead. “The impact spun me around and I fell hard on the pavement.”

“Too bad you didn't see his face.”

Ronnie shook her head. “I told the police, when I saw the SUV back up and stop, I figured I was dead. I was too far from the front door of the gym, and the SUV was between me and my car. That's why I went behind the building.”