Authors: Elaine Orr
"MELANIE. MELANIE!"
"Go away."
"Are you okay? What happened?"
I opened my eyes. I was face down, my head turned to the right. The floor around me was a dirt one, so I definitely wasn't home.
"Melanie!"
The voice was insistent, I'd give him that. And familiar. Not my brother. "Oh, Syl?"
"Thank God."
I moved my arms, intending to put my palms on the floor to raise myself up, but he put a hand on my shoulder.
"Stay down!"
"My head hurts." I stared at my hand. My elbow was bent so my hand was about even with my eyes.
"Did you fall?"
"Don't think so. Why am I down here?" I remembered driving to Syl's and parking down the road.
"No idea. I woke because I thought I heard someone outside my window." He paused. "I need to direct the ambulance back here. Promise me you'll stay lying down."
"Not going anywhere." I shut my eyes. It registered that Syl must not have taken a sleeping pill. I heard the sound of a truck or something, pulling into the driveway. No siren, but the driver wouldn't have used it so late at night.
"Back here," Syl called. "Back here."
He was kneeling next to me again in seconds, or so it seemed. "Remember not to move until the EMTs tell you to."
"My head hurts."
"No kidding." He stood. "She's had some kind of blow to the head. I don’t' know if she fell or was hit."
"Damn. Mel!" Martin was the same EMT who'd come when I'd found Hal. He started feeling my arms and legs. "Anything broken you think, Mel?" he asked.
"Just my head. This floor's really cold."
"Okay. My partner's bringing a gurney. But I want to put a neck brace on you before we move you."
Martin and John, who was a good friend of my brother's, had me in the back of the ambulance in less than five minutes.
"If you shine that light in my eyes again, I'll bite you."
Martin chuckled. "Guess you'll be all right."
"The light just hurts." I paused. "Can I have some water?"
His tone was sympathetic. "We're almost to the hospital. They'll put an IV in you, get some fluids started."
"I want something in my mouth." I swallowed. "Really dry."
He patted my shoulder. "Almost there."
I had just noticed that I could see street lights out the ambulance's back window. Then it apparently went over the speed bump in the hospital driveway.
"Ow."
"See, we're here," Martin said.
The back door of the ambulance opened, and I heard people running toward us.
"Is she conscious?"
Martin and John lifted my gurney and extended its legs to the pavement.
"Yeah," Martin said. "Said she thinks someone hit her in the back of the head."
"Oh, good Lord." The woman had an authoritative tone. "We may need to airlift her to Iowa City."
"Please don't." I almost sobbed. "I want to go home."
John spoke in a soothing tone. "They'll do their best to keep you here, kiddo. I'm going to call Ambrose."
Oh, crud. My brother would be furious that I'd gone to Syl's at night alone.
Someone ran up as they wheeled me into the ER. "I'd like to come in with her." It was Syl.
"We need to examine…" the woman's voice said.
"I'll stay out of your way."
"See that you do," she snapped.
The next few minutes were a blur of pain and ceiling lights that were way too bright. Someone came in with a portable x-ray and took pictures of my head and neck. Then the woman was back.
I focused on her. She was perhaps forty, maybe Hispanic, with very black hair and dark eyes. "Who are you?"
She smiled. "It's good you care. Can you tell me what day it is?"
"Hmm. I'm not sure if it's yesterday or today."
I heard Syl clear his throat.
"How about the year?"
I told her, and gave her yesterday's date. I remembered it because I'd written it on the three-by-five cards as I took notes.
"Good, good. Now, how many fingers?"
This made no sense. "You have five."
"Mel, she means how many are raised," Syl said, with the amused tone barely hidden.
"Oh, two. Your index and middle fingers."
"Great. I'm going to put some pain medicine in your IV. I wanted to be sure of your condition before I did that."
I heard plastic tear and saw her draw liquid into a syringe from a small glass bottle. "Are you giving me a shot?"
"No, putting it in your IV. It'll help a lot with the pain."
I remembered that I had told her several times that my head hurt. Whoever she was. "Who are you?"
"I'm sorry, you asked me that." She finished whatever she was doing with the syringe and patted my hand, smiling. "I'm Doctor Maria Vargas. We usually have a quieter night around here."
"Dr. Vargas?" I recognized Sheriff Gallagher's voice.
"Oh, Sheriff. I'm not sure. Well… Ms. Perkins, can you talk to the sheriff for just a minute?"
"Why not?" I whispered, feeling like I was going to cry.
That's stupid
.
"Hey, Melanie," he said. "Can you tell me what happened?"
"I went to look at…oh. Did you get the broom?"
"What broom?"
Before I could answer, Syl said, "She talked about that when they loaded her into the ambulance."
I did
?
"I have one in the barn, but it only now occurred to me that she might mean that one."
"Okay." Sheriff Gallagher spoke slowly. "Before we talk about the broom, did you fall, or did someone push or hit you?"
"Hit me. From behind." I opened and shut my eyes. "I can look at you, if someone would turn off that stupid light."
"There's one on above the sink," Syl said. He stood and walked toward the door to turn off the overhead light.
I opened my eyes. "Thank you." I looked up at the sheriff. "Am I in trouble?"
He smiled. "I have no idea. We won't worry about that just this minute. Did you see who hit you?"
I started to shake my head and winced. "No. I just wanted to see what it looked like at night, and I… Could I have some water?"
Syl stood and left the room.
"Keep talking if you can," Gallagher said.
"I wanted to see, see Syl's driveway the way the killer saw it. And then I walked to the, oh, the place with the tractor. The barn."
Dr. Vargas came in carrying a Styrofoam cup. "If you can keep an ice chip or two down, the nurse can bring you a tiny bit of ginger ale." She held a plastic spoon with a few chips near my mouth. "I don't want you to sit up."
I chewed the chips she gave me. "Can I have more?"
"A couple." She put them in my mouth, and said, "Let's wait just a few minutes to be sure you keep them." She left.
Like I would give them away
.
"So, you went to the barn," Gallagher prompted.
"And I saw the broom. I put my light on it." I felt myself getting excited. "It had a bit of mulch on it."
"Ohh-kay." Gallagher said. "And then what?"
"Um, for just a second I thought I heard someone behind me. And then, well, I guess he conked me."
"A man?" he asked.
"Um. No clue."
A nurse came in, nodded at the sheriff and checked the machine that was annoying me by blowing up the blood pressure cuff on my arm.
"Was the mulch there? I mean, on the broom?"
Gallagher frowned at me. "We'll check."
"It could mean the killer used it to sweep mulch. There might be, whadyacallit? Fingerprints."
"You should have called me." Gallagher sounded annoyed.
"It's not like I knew it was there."
He sighed. "I really, really wish you hadn't done this."
I met his gaze. "Me, too, and not just because I got hit."
He nodded. "It's just suspicious." He stared back. "I still have a hard time thinking you killed Hal, but this isn't good."
The nurse had left, and Dr. Vargas was back. "Sheriff. I think that's long enough."
"Sure thing. You keeping her overnight?"
"At least. Will you be posting anyone?"
"I'll try." Gallagher ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm short tonight."
"I'll stay." Syl turned to Dr. Vargas. "You're locked at night, right?"
She nodded, but didn't look happy.
Gallagher looked at me and shook his head slightly. "My guess, doc, is the person knows she didn't see him. Or her."
"Let's hope you're right. Have someone stop by once, if they can." She left.
The nurse came back. About thirty, she sported pastel pink scrubs and a perky smile. People like her make me think I look like a farm hand.
"Your x-rays are back. They don't see a skull fracture, but they'll have a second radiologist look at them on the day shift." She loosened the cuff on my arm and then tightened it again. "You may have a concussion, which is why you'll stay for a bit. We'll get you moved to a room in a few minutes."
When she left, I looked at the sheriff. "Thanks."
"Later, Melanie." Sheriff Gallagher walked out.
I shut my eyes. It would be good to sleep. The medicine made my head hurt less, and I felt sleepy.
"Mel?"
I opened my eyes.
Ambrose's friend John held out his mobile phone. "Your brother wants to talk to you."
"Oh, crap."
I mostly listened to Ambrose. I could tell he was trying to control a lot of anger, which meant John had told him where they found me.
He started by telling me I was crazy to be in a barn – by myself, at night. "Sharon is coming down in the morning. I have to be in Sioux City for a statewide Farm Bureau meeting, and if you aren't dying I need to make it."
I wanted to say I was fine by myself, but there probably wasn't a solid case for that. "It'll be good to see her."
He snorted. "She's going to stay as long as she thinks you need her. And it's up to her, not you." After telling me he hoped I felt better, Ambrose hung up.
John had gone into the hall. When he returned, I handed him the phone. "Thanks."
He grinned. "He'd a killed me if I hadn't call him."
I closed my eyes for two seconds and opened them. "I know. Thanks a lot."
"You need me, you call, okay? If I'm not home, I'm here or on a call. Leave a message." He nodded at Syl and left.
Then it was just Syl and me.
"Syl?"
"Yes."
"It hurts to turn my head. Can you stand where I can see you?"
"Sure." He walked to the foot of the gurney.
"I'm really, really sorry."
He shrugged. "As far as I can tell, you didn't do anything to me."
"I couldn't sleep, and I thought I might think of something if I saw how it looked really late at night. What people could see from the road, you know?" My voice kind of trailed off.
"Interesting. Reporter's instinct?" His words had a mocking tone.
"Oh, damn. When Sandi gets up, she'll check the crime blotter."
"I think that's the least of your worries."
"Yeah. My brother's going to try to get me to move to Dubuque again."
"What's the crime rate up there?"
"Funny." I shut my eyes. "I might sleep a little."
"Good idea. You'll get in less trouble."
I WOKE UP LATER SATURDAY morning in a hospital room, with curtains pulled around the bed and Syl dozing in a lounge chair next to it. I had only a vague memory of being moved to the room.
Syl didn't snore. Ambrose did, so had my father. Syl's usually perfectly combed hair was mussed, but not a lot. The stubble on his face gave him a more rugged look.
He didn't dress like Ambrose or my father. Instead of jeans he wore cotton slacks, and his collared shirt had probably cost what ten of my Dad's had. His clothes were rumpled, as if he had grabbed yesterday's from the hamper.
Light filtering through the thin privacy curtain told me it was early, maybe six a.m. I had been lying flat on my back, and it ached, so I pulled my knees up and shifted toward my right side.
Someone opened the door to the room and soft-soled shoes squeaked toward me. When the woman pulled back the curtain, Syl sat up with a start.
She ignored him and looked at me. I took in her white lab coat and hand-held caddy of syringes and figured I was about to get stuck.
"Can you tell me your name?" she asked.
"My head's okay."
The woman, who was in perhaps her late forties, with silver-streaked brown hair pulled into a severe bun, smiled. "I need to be sure who I'm taking blood from."