Chapter Sixteen
My hair stuck out in all directions from the bandage wrapped around my head. I looked over my hands and arms. There were a multitude of scratches, and bruises were starting to form.
I was staring at myself in the restroom mirror of the hospital emergency room. The nurse who prepped me had been wonderful. She carefully sectioned and pinned my hair to expose the gash in my head. She cleaned it and did a minimal amount of shaving around the wound. She patted my hand, smiled, and said, “I have daughters. They never let me forget to be thoughtful about a patient’s hair when I can.”
The doctor arrived to stitch the wound. “You’re a lucky girl,” he said. “The racquet missed your temple by less than an inch. You could have had a much worse injury here. I’d like to keep you overnight for observation, so we–”
“No,” I cut him off before he could say anymore. “I’m going home. I have a headache, but I feel fine, and I want to go home.” He looked at me indecisively. “I promise I’ll come back if anything changes.”
“Well …” he stared at me for a moment and saw my steadfastness. “I’m advising you to stay, but I’ll send the nurse in with forms for you to sign and a prescription for pain.”
I was now in the restroom looking at my frighteningly thrashed appearance and waiting for a cab to arrive. My head was throbbing. The fatigue was overwhelming. The fight with Wicker had taken all my strength, and it was an effort to move. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. A few tears slipped out, but I had no energy to really cry. I thought I had seen Mick at the club before the ambulance arrived, but he wasn’t here, so I must have been dreaming. I pushed the restroom door open and made my way to the emergency room lobby. Thankfully, the cab I had called was waiting.
The cabbie deposited me at the back door of my apartment building. It suddenly dawned on me I didn’t have my purse. It was still at the club. I started to plead my case with the cab driver, promising to find him tomorrow and pay him, but he looked at my bandaged head and overall sorry state and said, “Forget it, lady. This one’s on me.”
Inside the building, I trudged up the three flights of stairs. My feet hit the top floor, and I looked up to see Mick sitting on the floor outside my door. He had his head in his hands
“Mick,” I said, surprised but happy to see him. “What are you doing here?”
He jumped to his feet and rushed to me. He put his arms around me and pulled me close.
“Susan.” He whispered my name as a sigh of relief. “I was so worried about you. Why did you leave the hospital?”
“I wanted to be home in my own bed,” I said. It seemed like an eternity since I had slept in my own bed. “I just wanted to be home.”
“Come on, let’s get you inside,” he said. He waited for my key. I pointed to the top of the doorframe.
“You’re kidding, right?” he asked as he flashed the amused smile I had come to love.
It was embarrassing to admit to having a key on the doorframe. Who does that in this day and age? But I had locked myself out of my apartment enough times, that not only did I have a key on the doorframe, but Darby held a spare for me, too.
He unlocked the door, scooped me up into his arms, and carried me over the threshold. He gently placed me on the sofa and tucked a pillow behind my head before covering me with my grandmother’s afghan. Once he knew I was comfortable, he went to the kitchen to put on a kettle for tea. This was Mick - always considerate, always caring.
I was grateful for the afghan. The apartment was cool from the air conditioning, and I felt cold from fatigue. It was four in the morning. I had been awake for twenty-four hours now. I sat quietly for several minutes while he was busy in the kitchen.
“Mick,” I called softly. I had so many questions but didn’t know where to start. I started with the obvious. “What happened at the club? How did you wind up there, and why was I in the locker room?”
He came in and sat down at the other end of the sofa. “Let me tell you the whole story. At least the part I know,” he said.
I nodded.
“I had to run to a job site this morning, so I didn’t have time to look into Wicker Barnes until this afternoon. I did a search, probably like you did, and saw his picture and bio with the Marshall Community Theater. But I kept searching. I wanted to see if I could find out anything more about him.”
I nodded again. The kettle whistled.
He went back to the kitchen and made a cup of tea with honey for me. I sat up, pulled the afghan over my lap, and gratefully took the tea.
He sat down beside me and continued, “I found a news article about a guy named Ted Burns who was arrested three years ago in Indiana for swindling a woman out of her life’s savings. It seems Ted had a bad gambling habit and a lot of gambling debts, so he worked out a scheme to use the local theater to find an unsuspecting woman to give him money. I think he only served jail time for a year. The reason this matters is because Ted Burns used a stage name when he performed.”
“Wicker Barnes,” I said.
“Yes,” Mick said, nodding.
“Well, how does that story connect to Jenny?” I asked. “He kept telling me I ruined everything, and I took you away from her. He wanted to fix things and make it right. What was that all about?”
“I didn’t know at first,” he said. “All I could find out was that they had performed together in a couple of plays, and the rumors about Jenny seeing someone romantically, well, she was obviously seeing Wicker. I knew I had to ask her about him. Do you remember I told you I was a chaperone at Alex’s school dance tonight?”
I nodded.
“Jenny dropped him off at school before I got there, so when I took him home around eleven, I went in to have a talk with her. I asked her about Wicker. At first, she was defensive and didn’t want to say anything, but I grabbed Alex’s laptop and showed her the news article about him. She broke down then and told me everything.”
He stood up. There was sadness to his demeanor and a look I didn’t understand. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what he was going to tell me.
“Mick,” I said, stopping him. “You don’t have to tell me any of this. If it’s too personal-”
He cut me off and said, “No. No. It’s not too personal. I just wish I would have known about this sooner, or that I would have paid more attention. I might have seen it coming.” He began pacing. “Jenny said Wicker gave her a lot of attention. He was nice to her. He helped her with her lines and gave her acting tips. They really hit it off.”
I could see his discomfort. Was he jealous of Wicker hitting on his soon-to-be ex-wife? I felt uncomfortable.
“We aren’t wealthy, Susan, but you know I make a good living. Most of my focus is on work, so Jenny pays the bills, and I don’t pay much attention to the money. Everything is always taken care of, everyone has what they need, and I’ve never worried about how she handles our finances. I look over my investment portfolio from time to time, and I see she’s depositing the money I ask her to, and that’s that.”
He went to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. “Jenny has rental properties in New York. I told you about that,” he said. “A management company takes care of everything for her, and she gets a pretty healthy check each month from rents. I know she puts some of the money into our college fund for Alex, but it’s also her mad money.”
He took a couple of swigs from the water bottle. I didn’t want to break his thought process, so I remained quiet.
He spoke as though it pained him to say the words. “Wicker eventually talked her into giving him money - money for a better apartment, money for a better car, money for acting lessons. He told her he had connections on Broadway. In return, he would continue to help her and share his theater knowledge with her. She didn’t have any idea the money was going for gambling and gambling debts.” He looked at me and asked, “Are women really that gullible? Do women really give men money just so they will pay attention to them?”
> “I don’t know, Mick,” I told him sympathetically. “I’m sure most women don’t, but you do read about it online all the time.”
“She admitted to giving him thousands of dollars. Almost all of the New York rent money for the last eight months has gone to Wicker. Last Saturday she gave him another three thousand dollars.” I could see his jaw set in a tight line. “She’s given him money from my paycheck.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Because we’re getting divorced, she’s selling the New York properties and putting most of the proceeds into a trust for Alex. She also won’t have access to my salary after the divorce, so she let Wicker know that very soon she wasn’t going to have any extra money for him.”
It was starting to make sense to me now. By Mick and Jenny divorcing, Wicker’s goose that was laying golden eggs was drying up. If he could keep them together, he could keep the money coming in, and he was desperate to do that.
“I finally asked her where he was,” he said. “She said she didn’t know. She hadn’t heard from him since she gave him the check last Saturday.” He sat down beside me again. “I knew right then what you told me about seeing him in Florida had to be true, and I knew you were right about being in danger. Serious danger. I called the police, and they put me in touch with Detective Bentley. It wasn’t easy to get him at midnight, but I was persistent. I finally talked him into taking a few officers and going to your apartment, but when we arrived, you weren’t here.”
“How did you find out I was working at the club?” I asked.
“Darby stuck his head out to see who was banging on your door. He told us you were closing tonight. He wanted to come along, but Detective Bentley told him if he saw his face at all, he would have him arrested for obstruction of justice.”
I couldn’t help smiling a little. Poor Darby.
Mick continued, “It was after one when we got to the club. Everything was dark - even the parking lot. But I could see your car, and it has four flat tires.”
I rolled my eyes. Nothing would surprise me now.
“The front door was unlocked, and the officers went in first. Detective Bentley was threatening to arrest me if I didn’t stay outside, but there was no way I wasn’t going in. One of the officers found the switch for the lights, and Susan, my heart stopped. We could see where the two of you had struggled. A couple of chairs were turned over, one of the sofas was shoved up against another, and there was blood on the floor.”
He stopped and took one of my hands in both of his. His voice caught in his throat from emotion. He coughed before saying, “There wasn’t much blood in the hallway, but there was enough to know someone had been dragged to the women’s locker room. I had to wait outside the door while the officers went in with guns drawn. The detective said they were able to surprise Wicker. He had turned on the whirlpool, and it kept him from hearing the men when they entered the room. He was holding your ankles and preparing to fix everything by drowning you in the whirlpool.”
He closed his eyes for a moment as if to shut out the image. “Once they had him in cuffs, they couldn’t keep me away from you.” His look was intense, yet there was tenderness in his eyes. “I was so grateful you were alive. I couldn’t believe I almost lost you – when I just found you.” He reached over and gently brushed my cheek with his fingertips.
“If you were at the club, why didn’t you come to the hospital?” I asked.
“I did,” he said. “By the time I got there, they had already taken you back to stitch you up. A nurse told me they would be keeping you overnight for observation, and she said she would let me know when you were in a room. I went down to the coffee shop for a cup of coffee. When I went back to emergency to ask for your room number, they told me you went home. I rushed right over, but you weren’t here. I didn’t know what to think.”
I smiled and said, “The cab took forever to come, and I was in the restroom for a while, checking out my head bandage and my scratches and bruises. We must have just missed each other.”
“There’s more,” he said. “Detective Bentley stopped by the hospital to see you, but we both thought you had already gone home. He said to tell you that Wicker Barnes, also known as Ted Burns, was at the station blubbering like a baby and admitting to everything, including accidentally killing Jerry when he meant to kill you.”
I frowned. “Why did it seem like he was trying to scare me at times, like with the flat tires, but then do something that might kill me at other times? It doesn’t make sense.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “He’s a sick man. Maybe he waffled between wanting to scare you off when he was feeling somewhat sane and wanting to kill you when he was out of control. It’s hard to understand an unstable person.”
We both sat quiet for a few moments. There was more to talk about, but it was obvious we were talked out for now. I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.
Mick stood, threw the afghan back, and pulled me up to him. He kissed me, softly at first, but passion quickly took over. I returned the kiss and pressed myself against him.
He scooped me into his arms again. I nestled my head on his shoulder. He moved toward the bedroom door. “We’ll talk more tomorrow,” he said. “But for now, I think it’s time to put you to bed.”
“Hmmm,” I murmured in his ear. “That sounds nice.”
He gently placed me on my bed. I didn’t fuss as he took off my shoes and helped me slip out of my clothes down to my bra and underwear before pulling a sheet over me.
I closed my eyes and couldn’t contain a loud sigh of contentment. I was completely relaxed for the first time in over a week. It felt wonderful to be in my own bed. The events of last Saturday with Mick and his wife seemed far away and irrelevant now.
I heard him moving about the room before hearing him switch off the bedside lamp. He leaned over and kissed me softly on the forehead. I waited for him to slip in beside me. When I opened my eyes again, the room was awash with daylight, and Mick was gone. I was still on my back in the exact position he had left me. The space next to me didn’t appear to have been disturbed.
I slipped on my robe and walked into the living room to find Darby sitting on my sofa watching the Food Network.
“Good morning, Sunshine,” he said cheerfully. “I’m glad you’re awake. I was afraid you were in a coma.”
I laughed. “Where’s Mick, and why would you think I was in a coma? What time is it?”
“It’s seven o’clock, and Mick’s at work,” he said.
“Why is he working on a Sunday?”
He raised his eyebrows and gave me a look I didn’t understand. “Because it’s not Sunday. It’s Monday.”
I sat down beside him and gave him a shove. “Quit teasing me. Where’s Mick?”
“Susan, I’m serious,” he said. “You’ve been asleep for over twenty-four hours. We even called your doctor. You have a concussion, and we didn’t know if we should let you sleep or not. He said we should let you rest, so we did. Mick stayed with you all day yesterday, but I came over last night and slept on the sofa, so he could go home and get some sleep before going to work. He left a note for you on the kitchen counter.”
I couldn’t believe I’d slept so soundly for so long. I still felt tired, but mostly, I had a headache, and I was stiff and sore from fighting with Wicker. I reached up and touched the bandage.
Darby grabbed a small notebook from the coffee table and read from it. He and Mick had both jotted down notes.
“You can’t get your stitches wet for forty-eight hours.” He looked at me and added, “You’ve burned up over half of those already, so you can wash your hair tomorrow.” He turned back to his notes. “Take it easy for a few days and be sure to take your pain meds. They have anti-inflammatory agents that will help with any brain swelling from the concussion.” He turned to the next page. “If you have dizzy spells or blurred vision, call your doctor.” He looked at me and said, “If anything seems weird, call your doctor.”
I smiled and said. “I?
??m fine. Really I am. I’m going to get ready for work. Do you want to make us some breakfast?”
“I’ll make breakfast, but you’re not going anywhere. Mick managed to get in touch with someone from your corporate offices and explained what happened. The woman he talked to said for you to take another week and only come back to work if you’re feeling one hundred percent.”
I was relieved. I would have gone to work, but I really felt like I wanted to lie down and go back to sleep.
I walked into the kitchen and read the note Mick left for me.
Susan – I’ll give you a call later. Hope you feel rested. Betsy Ann Tucker said you could take the week off. Don’t drive. If you need anything, send Darby. Love, Mick.
It was the first time I had seen the word love and his name together. My heart soared.
I found an old shower cap and took a hot shower. By the time I slipped into comfortable sweats and a tee-shirt, Darby had a simple breakfast of eggs and toast ready. We sat down to eat.
“Detective Bentley stopped by last night,” he said.
“Why? What did he want?”
“I think he wanted to see if you were ok. Mick told him we thought you were in a coma.” He gave me an accusatory look. “You know, if you would have rolled over or moved even a little, we might have known you were just sleeping. But when you stayed flat on your back like that, well, we were worried.”
I chuckled. “I’m sorry. Is that all the detective wanted?”
“I don’t think so. He said something about recovering some evidence you have. Do you know what he’s talking about?”
At first, I shook my head, but I quickly remembered. “Oh my gosh! The powder. It’s still in the pocket of the jeans I was wearing last night. I had it with me at the club all night.”
“What powder?”
I left the table to retrieve the baggie and set it in front of Darby.
“Potassium chloride. I’m certain Wicker planted this in my gym bag to make it look like I poisoned the apple juice before I gave it to him.”
He opened the bag and sniffed the contents. He then licked a finger, dipped it in the bag and tasted it.
“What are you doing?” I said loud enough to cause my head to throb.
“Potassium chloride isn’t a poison,” he said. “It’s used in salt substitutes. One of my first web writing jobs was for a pharmacy. I remember weeding through hundreds of questions and answers about medications. I’d have to look it up to be sure, but I think you need to inject someone with potassium chloride to kill them. You already said Jerry had heart damage, and the potassium chloride may have triggered his heart attack, but it won’t kill you to put some in your mouth.” He smiled. “Or your beer.”
I wasn’t entirely convinced. “You have to admit, my symptoms were pretty rough that day. I wasn’t out of line to think I’d been poisoned.”
I took my plate to the kitchen and had a short bout of dizziness. I steadied myself by holding onto the counter.
Darby was quickly by my side. “Are you all right? Should I call your doctor?”
“I’m fine. I think I just stood up too fast.”
Go lie down,” he said. “I’ll clean up the kitchen.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice. I took his position on the sofa and covered myself with one of the blankets he had taken from the linen closet last night.
I was asleep within minutes.
A murmur of voices broke through my dreams. I opened one eye and saw Detective Bentley talking with Darby. I sat up and pulled the blanket around me. The time on the cable box indicated it was two o’clock. I hoped it was still Monday.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Darby asked the detective to take a seat in the chair next to the sofa. He then sat down beside me and said, “Detective Bentley stopped by to pick up the potassium chloride. Even though Wicker has confessed to everything, they still need it for evidence.”
“How are you feeling?” the detective asked me.
“I can’t seem to stop sleeping, but I’m ok. Did you already tell Darby what happened to Johnny?”
Darby nodded, and the detective said, “He’s still in jail in Charlotte. I’ve talked to the Chief of Police there and explained the situation. Johnny’s definitely facing some charges, but they’ll most likely result in fines, and he won’t have a felony record. He’s being released later today.”
Poor Johnny. I almost felt responsible for what happened to him. Almost.
“What about Wicker?” I asked. “How did he get out of jail and get to Carbide City? I thought you were watching for him at the airports.”
“We were,” the detective said. “But at that time, we thought we were looking for Wicker Barnes. He bought a ticket under his real name of Ted Burns.”
“Who bailed him out?” I asked.
The detective smiled. “No one. Have you ever seen a television show or a movie where the guy is taken into the police station, they forget about him for a minute, and he walks right out?”
Darby chuckled.
“I’ve seen them,” I said. “But they’re not believable. That would never happen.” Both men were smiling. “Would it?”
Detective Bentley shook his head in disbelief or disgust. I couldn’t tell which. “It did happen. When Wicker was taken to the police station, a big drug bust had just gone down, and he and Johnny weren’t priorities. Johnny was taken into an interrogation room, but a new rookie handcuffed Wicker to a bench. The problem was the bench wasn’t bolted to the floor. It was such a madhouse in there, Wicker simply slid the handcuff off the bench and walked out. You know what happened from there.”
He looked at his watch and then over to me. “I have to get back to the station. I hope you’re feeling better soon. Don’t leave town. You’ll be getting a subpoena in the next day or two.”
My eyes went wide. “Me? What did I do? What are you charging me with?”
Darby laughed. “Susan, you’re not being charged with anything. You’ll be a witness in the trial against Wicker. We both will.”
I didn’t think I liked Detective Bentley very much. Why did he insist on scaring me?
Darby walked him to the door, and I resumed my comfortable position under the blanket. I tried to watch the cooking show that was on the television, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open.
I was vaguely aware of Darby cooking again. Odors from the kitchen were wonderful, but they seemed more in my dreams than in real life.
When I fully awakened, the bright sun of the day had diminished, and I knew it was almost evening.
Darby appeared to have gone. It was Mick who was busy in the kitchen. The table in the dining room was set for dinner. A vase filled with Black-eyed Susans sat in the middle of the table. They were my favorite flower and seemed appropriate under the circumstances.
I stood from the sofa and quietly made my way into the bathroom. I ran a brush through my hair as best I could and brushed my teeth before going into the kitchen.
“You’re up,” Mick said cheerfully and with a broad smile. “How do you feel?”
“I think I feel rested,” I said with a laugh. “I’ve never slept so much at one time in my life.”
He gathered me into his arms and looked lovingly into my eyes. His gaze made me weak in the knees. I allowed him to hold me tight. He kissed me gently before releasing me and saying, “Darby made dinner for us. Stuffed trout with rice pilaf. We’re not having wine, because it will interfere with your pain medication.”
I smiled. “Dinner smells delicious, and I don’t need wine.”
I was happy Mick was here, but our verbal back and forth felt awkward today.
We weren’t quite as comfortable together as we had been before last weekend.
Conversation over dinner was light and felt more like a first date than two people who had been together for a considerable time. After dinner, we sat side by side on the sofa. Mick put his arm around my shoulder and said, “I think we should talk about Saturd
ay night.”
“Do we have to?” I asked. “I’ve been over it a million times in my head, and Darby and I have talked about it more than enough. I don’t want to talk about Wicker Barnes or Ted Burns ever again.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “He pulled his arm back and turned to face me. I meant we should talk about Saturday night in your bedroom.”
I felt myself blush. It was obvious Mick hadn’t climbed into bed beside me. Did he realize I thought he would?
“I’m sorry I fell asleep like that. I couldn’t stay awake.” A sudden thought popped into my head. I must have sounded horrified when I asked, “We didn’t do anything, did we?”
He couldn’t help smiling. “No, I turned out the light and came out here. Your honor is intact.”
I said softly, “Mick, it’s not that I don’t want you, and I thought I was ready, but I’m not. I want to trust you again. I want to get to know you better. I have to be sure.”
My words seemed to make him sad. I wished I could read him better.
“I feel the same way,” he said. “I want to take things slow with you. I want you to trust me again, and I want this relationship to last. But what I really want to know is if you’ve forgiven me for not telling you about my situation before it blew up in your face.”
I nodded. “I have. I forgive you.”
He grasped my hands in his. His voice was emotional. “Thank you. I needed to hear you say it.”
He gathered me into his arms and kissed me deeply and with passion. I had no problem returning his kiss. I felt giddy inside. In my heart and in my mind, I knew Mick Raines was the only man I would ever want. I no longer wanted to kill him. I wanted to love him.
I kissed him harder.