“Will you be okay, Aunt Bernie?”
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him.
“Why wouldn’t she be fine, huh? You think we need you to check on us?”
“I think you need someone to teach you how to treat your wife.”
Uncle Rex took a swig of coffee. A thin line of it dribbled down his chin. He wiped it with the sleeve of his robe. “Don’t you mouth off to me. I’m still able to kick your skinny ass if I want.”
Fat chance of that happening
, Matt thought. He had knocked down his Ranger buddies in hand-to-hand training, some of them over two hundred pounds of solid muscle. Dropping a slow, middle-aged drunk with a well-placed kick would be no problem. “I’ve got errands to run.”
He kissed Aunt Bernie on the cheek and whispered in her ear, “I’m right out back if you need me. Remember that.”
She gave him a look that was equal parts gratitude and fear.
The Lincoln Mercy emergency room had exploded with activity.
There was a three-car crash on Elmwood Avenue, with two passengers dead and the remaining three brought in to the ER. One had brains leaking out of a gaping wound in his skull, and that was among the most awful things Jill had ever seen. That man had died ten minutes after being brought to the ER.
The other two victims, one a middle-aged woman and the other a teenage boy, had not fared much better. The woman had a broken neck and Jill had assisted Dr. Kessler in inserting a tracheotomy tube when her lungs began to fail. She overheard Kessler telling one of the residents that she would most likely be a quadriplegic for life. The boy’s mangled left leg would need to be amputated.
What a day it had been, indeed.
Now Jill sipped her iced tea, relishing a break from her armageddon of a day. The cafeteria was silent save for the hissing of grease as the cook lowered a basket of fries into the fryer.
“Nurse Adams, how long have you been on break?”
It was supervisor Gaines; not what she needed right at the moment. Jill hadn’t even noticed her approach the table.
“Ten minutes, I’m just finishing up.”
“With the ER as busy as it is, we can’t afford to have people taking extended breaks.” Dorothy pushed her glasses onto her nose with her index finger. “Are you finished with that tea yet?”
“I am now.”
Jill chugged the last of her iced tea, stood up and threw the Styrofoam cup into a trash can.
“None of the other nurses are taking breaks.”
“Cora told me to come down here and take fifteen. Everything’s quieted down since that car wreck came in,” Jill explained.
“I could write you up if I wanted to. Unauthorized break, and maybe insubordination.”
“Insubordination?” Jill couldn’t believe her ears.
“That’s right.”
“If you’re really going to write me up, then I’d say you’ve got nothing better to do with your time. Excuse me, I have to get back to work.”
Jill brushed past her and noticed it immediately—the rank, pungent smell, the same one that she noticed on the attacker in the warehouse. The hair on her arms rose in little prickles as the odor brought back the memories of that night, stirring her adrenaline.
“You can count on that, Nurse Adams.”
“Do what you have to do.”
Jill hurried from the cafeteria, thinking that a smell like that on two people was more than coincidence.
Jill walked down the main hallway in the ER, past a row of gurneys and a cart filled with sheets and towels. Cora stepped from one of the exam rooms, a manila folder in her hand. She reached out and gripped Jill’s arm.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Cora. Just ate something that didn’t agree with me.”
“You putting me on?”
“Honest. I just came from the ladies’ room, if you know what I mean.” Jill put her hand palm down over her stomach, indicating the universal sign for intestinal distress.
“I still don’t think that’s it. But whatever it is, I hope you feel better.”
Jill thanked her and continued down the hallway toward the nursing station. She sat down in one of the office chairs, closed her eyes, and massaged her temples.
Get through the day
, she told herself. Looking at the clock on the wall, she saw there were two more hours to go on her shift. Avoiding her supervisor for that long was possible.
“Jill, possible arm fracture in one. Get his vitals, okay?” It was Cora, leaning on the counter of the nurses’ station, the rubbery flesh on her arms spilling on the desktop.
Jill looked at the clock again before rising to check on the fracture.
After downing a Whopper and onion rings at the Lincoln Burger King, Donna Ricci pulled into Hill’s Hardware. The building was brick, the front painted blue and the sides yellow. An assortment of lawn mowers were lined up on the sidewalk in front of the store. She walked around them, running her finger along the chrome handle of a Toro.
She opened the door and an electronic chime sounded.
An elderly man in an olive cardigan sat in a folding chair behind a counter. He leaned back in the chair, his fingers drumming on the counter to a big band tune coming from an unseen radio. He whistled tunelessly along with the music. It sounded like Benny Goodman.
Donna passed the counter and found the electrical section. She picked a sturdy-looking flashlight off the shelf and took it to the counter. She hadn’t thought to bring her police flashlight with her.
“How are you tonight?” the clerk said. His green cardigan covered a madras shirt, and a pair of bifocals rested on the end of his nose. He took a tissue from the breast pocket of his sweater, wiped his nose and tucked the tissue away.
“Could be cooler out there.”
He punched keys on the register and it beeped. “You don’t look familiar. You live in town?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I’ve been running this store for thirty-eight years and I’ve seen just about everyone in town come in and out of here at one time or another. I know who’s had kids, who’s died, who’s moved away. I know I’ve never seen you before.”
“Well, you got that right. I’m from Marshall.”
He took her money and counted back the change. Then he took out a brown paper bag from under the counter and slid the flashlight in.
“What brings you here, if you don’t mind me asking.”
Ordinarily, she did mind, and wanted to tell him to mind his own business. But after the reception she got from Rafferty and the gas station attendant, it was nice to meet someone halfway friendly.
“Police business.”
He handed her the bag with the flashlight in it. “I take it you’re familiar with our esteemed chief of police.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
He leaned forward over the counter toward her, so close that she could smell a mix of stale coffee and cigars on his warm breath. “Just between you and me, I personally think Ed Rafferty is a four-square revolving son of a bitch.”
She liked the way this guy thought. “A twenty-four-seven son of a bitch from what I’ve heard.”
“You have a nice stay in Lincoln—I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Donna.”
“Okay then, Donna.”
Tucking the bag under her arm, she headed for the door.
“And Donna. Please be careful out there. Lincoln’s not too kind to strangers.”
“Why did you say that?”
“Well, you didn’t hear it from me, but people have a way of disappearing in this town.” He took his glasses off and polished them on his sweater.
“I can handle myself.”
“Don’t stay any longer than you have to, Donna. Any longer than you have to, okay?”
She left the store without answering him, and the door slammed behind her. She wasn’t one to scare easy or get the creeps, but she felt the hair on her arms stand at attention and a chill cascade over her body.
People have a way of disappearing in this town.
C
HAPTER
11
Donna sat in the cab of her pickup. She had gone into the Lincoln Public Library, performed an Internet search and come up with one article from the
Daily Recorder
written in 1995.
Woman Visiting Neighboring Town Attacked by Animal
A Buffalo woman was attacked by a wild animal on Friday night while pumping gas at a Lincoln service station. Janice Perry, 34, stopped at Jimbo’s Gas Station on Elmwood Avenue when she noticed she was low on gas. Apparently, after paying for the gas, Ms. Perry heard a strange noise from behind the station. “It was snowing hard, dark out and blowing pretty good. I heard a grunting sound from behind the station.” Ms. Perry thought that it was the wind and continued pumping gas.
About five minutes later, she was attacked. “It came at me out of the snow. I could just see a shape. It walked on two legs and smelled horrible.” The animal slashed Ms. Perry across the forehead, knocking her to the ground and requiring her to have twenty-two stitches.
The animal fled when another motorist pulled into the gas station. “That man who pulled into the station probably saved my life. That thing was big and mean and I think it would have killed me.”
Lincoln Police reported finding no signs of an animal in the area, but have advised residents to exercise caution when traveling at night.
Donna set the printout on the passenger seat. In the library, she had done a Google search on Rhonda’s name and come up with nothing. Likewise with Rafferty’s. She had also picked up a late edition of the
Buffalo News
and found nothing on Lincoln or the murder. Something told her Ed Rafferty was very good at camouflage. Either that, or he repelled people so much they stayed away, reporters included.
The whole thing didn’t wash. First Rafferty treated her like she had a contagious disease, and then nothing turned up in the paper.
Her cell phone rang. She picked up. It was Bob.
“Find anything out?” he asked.
“Rafferty’s clamming up. I’m going over to the house, have a look.”
Slurping on the other end and ice cubes clinking. “Can you do that, sis?”
“I’m sure the homeowner’s association will give me a wonderful welcome.”
“I mean is it legal?” Bob asked.
“You leave the fancy cop work to me,” Donna said. “How you holding up?”
“You know.”
“Made any arrangements yet?”
The ice chinked again. He was probably drinking J&B, she thought.
“We’ll do it at Lowe’s. They did a nice job with Mom’s service. I guess, ah, shit.”
He took the phone away from his mouth. She heard his muffled sobs.
“Sorry, sis. I was trying to say she wanted an open casket, but, uh, I guess that’s not going to be possible.”
Christ Jesus. He knew more than she did about Rhonda’s death at this point. And she was a cop! “What’d they say?”
“Rollie Lowe told me she was in bad shape. That’s all he would say.” She heard his heavy breathing, and then he said, “I gotta go.”
She wondered how bad it had to be in order for the casket to be closed. “I understand.”
She was about to hang up when he said, “Hey, Don?”
“Yeah?”
“One other thing. Rollie told me that when they called to get the body, he had to go through the hospital and the county and they didn’t have anything on Rhonda. So they dial the police station in Lincoln and they tell her their doc is examining her. That’s when he found out how ... bad she was. Is that weird?”
“Very frigging weird.”
“I really got to go.”
He killed the connection.
Why would the police say they were using their own doctor? The county medical examiner did the autopsies. What happened in Lincoln stayed there, was that it? At least that was the way Rafferty did it. She reached over and picked up the flashlight from the seat. After unscrewing the top, she popped in the batteries. She screwed the top back on.
Time for some digging,
she thought.
He had enough roses to satisfy three dates.
Matt took a look at the heaping bouquet, the roses taking up half the bench seat in the pickup truck. He knew Jill was health conscious and chocolates wouldn’t be the best idea for a fitness nut, so he opted for flowers.
A bumblebee buzzed in through the open passenger side window, humming and hovering over the flowers before landing on one. Matt shooed it with his hand and it dive-bombed him once, whizzing past his left ear before he finally backhanded it out the driver’s side window.
His heart beat hard and his palms sweated like a teenager on prom night.
While stopped at the intersection four blocks from Jill’s house, he did a quick check in the rearview mirror. Satisfied that his hair was in place and there was no food stuck in his teeth, he gave it the gas when the light turned green.
He revved it a little, getting the truck up to forty, knowing that most cops wouldn’t stop you unless you were driving like Jeff Gordon. Anxious to get to Jill’s house and liking the feel of the big V8 as it throbbed under the hood, he got it up to forty- five.
The police car’s lights popped up in his rearview mirror.
“Son of a bitch,” he said.
That’s what I got for forgetting where I am: in Lincoln, home of the world’s angriest police chief. Stupid
, he thought.
Pulling the car over, he rested his arms on the steering wheel and waited. He watched in the side view as Ed Rafferty strode toward the truck, a huge grin plastered on his face.
Rafferty popped his face into the window, his eyes obscured by the standard-issue cop sunglasses. “License, registration and proof of insurance.”
Lifting his butt off the seat, Matt reached for his wallet, gave his license to Rafferty and then took the insurance card out of the glove box and did the same. He fumbled for a moment, looking for the registration and not finding it.
“Registration?” Rafferty repeated.
“It’s my aunt’s truck. I’m using it for the day,” Matt replied.
“Your aunt’s name?”
“Bernadette Lapchek.”
Rafferty crossed his arms. “Never heard of her.”
“She lives in town. I’m surprised you don’t know the name. She’s lived here as long as I can remember.”
Rafferty, his head down, scanned Matt’s license. “Okay. Get me the registration within twenty-four hours and we won’t have a problem.” Rafferty handed Matt’s license and the insurance card back to him. Matt let a little sigh of relief escape. He hadn’t hassled him over the missing registration, and for that Matt was grateful.
“Now, any idea how fast you were going?”
“About forty-five.”
“Right,” Rafferty said. “You think that’s a smart idea?”
“Probably not.”
Rafferty pushed his shades up with his index finger. “Well, I’m writing you a ticket.”
Rafferty opened his book, took a Bic pen out of his breast pocket and began writing the ticket. After a moment, he tore it off and handed it to Matt. Matt looked over the ticket.
“So when’s my court date?” Matt asked.
Rafferty started to speak and then paused. He looked at Matt thoughtfully and those big yellow choppers appeared for a second in a grin. “You been drinking, Mr. Crowe?”
“No.”
“Why don’t you step out of the car?”
Matt’s first instinct was to start the truck up and floor it, screeching away from the Chief. Instead he unfastened his seat belt and stepped out of the car.
Rafferty had pulled him over on Elmwood Avenue, one of the main drags in town. They were pulled over about a block from a Dairy Queen and cars passed them on a regular basis. Rafferty would not try anything out in the open with a crowd of spectators in the vicinity—or at least Matt wanted to believe that.
“Say your alphabet backward for me.”
Matt did. He also walked a straight line at Rafferty’s request, closed his eyes and touched his finger to his nose and touched the tip of each finger to his thumb. He expected a Breathalyzer to follow, but Rafferty didn’t demand he take one.
“Well, I guess you aren’t drunk, but I really don’t like speeders in my town. Especially speeders that get mouthy with me. Where you from, anyway?”
He doesn’t recognize or remember me,
Matt realized. “The West Coast. San Francisco.”
“Probably a little queerboy, aren’t you?”
“No.”
“They’re all queer out there. I like them even less than I like speeders.”
As Matt opened his mouth to say something, the butt of the nightstick stung him below the right eye. His head snapped back. He shook his head and took a few steps back. He wanted to charge Rafferty, knock him down and beat him, maybe gouge his eyes or kick him until his ribs shattered.
He touched the skin around his eye and felt the warm, swollen flesh. He would have a shiner under that eye in the morning.
“You don’t speed in this town again. Got that?”
Matt lowered his hand. He thought of the Beretta, how easy it would be right now to blow holes in Rafferty, right above the badge, spin him around with bullets.
“You got me?” Rafferty said, and lifted the nightstick as if to deliver another blow. Matt didn’t flinch.
“I got you.”
Matt glanced along Elmwood. A steady stream of cars whipped past. No one had stopped to gawk or offer assistance.
“Get out of here. And don’t let me catch you again. Or you’ll get it worse.”
He turned and walked toward his patrol car, his stink enveloping him like a rotten cocoon.
It was time to shake Rafferty up a little. “Hey, Chief.”
Rafferty stopped and turned around.
“This is the second time you’ve messed with me. There won’t be a third.”
A look of confusion crossed Rafferty’s face, as if Matt had just spoken in Latin instead of English. “You threatening me?”
“No sir, I wouldn’t threaten an officer of the law.” Matt climbed in the truck and started the engine. He peeked in the rearview mirror. Rafferty leaned against the patrol car, the cop sunglasses glinting in the sun.
He half expected Rafferty to come back to the car and try and deliver another beating, but he opened the door and climbed in the police car.
As Matt pulled back on to Elmwood he said, “Think about that for a while, you son of a bitch.”
Rafferty watched the punk pull away in his big Chevy.
Taking his glasses off, he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, thinking. He couldn’t remember where he had seen Matthew Crowe before, but he knew it would come to him sooner or later. There had been so many Outsiders he had harassed over the years, so many times when he used a nightstick on one of them just for the fun of it. He couldn’t possibly remember all of them.
He followed Matt Crowe down Elmwood and then down Wharton. He watched as the pickup pulled into Jill Adams’ driveway.
Very interesting,
he thought.
The cold little bitch has a boyfriend, and she was probably going to give it up for him real good. He was half tempted to follow them to wherever they were going, but he had a better idea; he would pay little Ms. Adams a visit on his own. Maybe teach her a few lessons about who her real man should be.
If Rafferty had been completely human, he would’ve recognized his thoughts as jealousy, but his kind only recognized hatred for others. It was raw and primitive, the emotion bubbling up inside him like rancid crude oil until it eventually hit the surface and exploded.
Pulling down the street, he decided to make another stop before heading back to the station house.
“God, Matt, he really nailed you one.” Jill said, handing Matt ice cubes wrapped in a washcloth.
“Yeah, good old Chief Rafferty.”
“Well, we can stay in tonight if you want,” Jill said. “Maybe it’s for the best, especially if Rafferty hasn’t cooled down and is out patrolling. He could get you all over again. And you know how he feels about me.”
“I’m not letting him ruin our date.”
“What about your eye?”
“Maybe they’d give me a nice raw steak to put on it at Morotto’s.”
Jill laughed. “Well, as long as you’re okay with this. Let me just use the bathroom and we’ll go.”
She went into the bathroom, peed and checked her makeup in the mirror. She only wore some pink lipstick and some eye shadow. Her mother always told her she didn’t need much.
You’re pretty enough, Jill, you don’t need all that greasepaint on your kisser,
Mom would say
.