Authors: Kathryn Long
"It's okay, Fred. It's Emma. I'm here for you. Please, don't cry. You're safe," she said, trying to comforting him.
But he continued sobbing. Emma started to summon the nurse to help, when he stopped. The quiet almost unnerved her more than the noise, but at least he was calm now. Then, the most startling thing of all happened. Emma's heart stopped beating as she watched Fred open his eyes and stare straight at her. She knew Fred was aware of what he was seeing. Emma saw that recognition deep in his eyes. As if this wasn't enough to frighten her, what happened next certainly did.
"Emma? Oh, Emma. You must be careful." The words came clearly and soundly from his lips. "Promise me you'll be careful!" he sobbed again.
"Careful of what, Fred?" But it was too late. Emma watched as he closed his eyes and once more fell back into peaceful repose.
"Now, that was interesting."
Emma jumped upon hearing the voice behind her, not realizing anyone had come in. Turning around quickly she discovered Mac standing at the door.
"Sorry, Emmy." He looked sheepish and embarrassed. "I didn't mean to scare you." Then holding up a package he added, "I told the nurse I'd help out and put a fresh bib on Fred." They had taken to putting one on Fred because he'd been drooling a lot and thus wetting his hospital gown.
"That's okay, Mac. I'll do it." She took the bib from his hand and walked back over to Fred, a look of irritation on her face. She guessed the intrusion on that private moment between her and Fred bothered her more than it should. Still, Mac was a friend, too, she reminded herself.
Mac hadn't seemed to notice Emma's dark mood and continued his conversation as usual. "What do you think he meant by being careful?" He looked at Emma inquisitively.
"Why, I don't rightly know. Maybe he was just dreamin' and didn't mean anything by it," she commented, watching Fred closely as she put the bib on him. It certainly was strange though. She pondered his outburst. Why would he choose those words? She felt deep inside, one of those gut feelings she got often enough, that Fred did mean something by it. But what? And why wouldn't she voice her concerns to Mac? Why so cautious? She speculated she must not want to look foolish. That's why she'd keep these concerns to herself. She sighed. Time would tell.
Mac walked over to Emma and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "You must be tired, Emmy. Why don't you go on home and get some rest?"
Emma shook her head. "I don't want to leave him alone right now."
"It's okay. I'll stay with him." He looked at his watch. "I have a half hour break. Then I'll get one of the nurses to sit in with him. Give you a chance to rest."
"Well …"
"Come on, Emmy."
"Oh, all right. Guess it would hurt." She finally agreed. "I am real tired out. It's been a rough week."
"You know, Emmy," Mac began, his words coming out slow and hesitant. "Once everything's settled down, back to normal … well, maybe you and me could do something, see a movie, dinner, you know?"
Emma studied his face. Like a young, anxious kid, asking for his first date. She hated to disappoint him. "It's kinda hard thinkin' that far ahead, Mac," she started, then saw his look of defeat. "We'll see. Maybe we could grab a bite to eat," she added and patted his arm.
Mac grinned from ear to ear. "That'd be just wonderful, Emmy. Just—now you go on and get some rest! I'll take care of things here." He led her out the door, practically shoving the reluctant Emma out of the room. He pointed a warning finger at her as she started to hesitate, slowing her exit. "Rest!"
"Okay, okay. I'm goin'," she muttered and headed for the elevator. She was tired and she remembered she needed to finish up her plans for the Grady County Fair. It was less than a week away. How did the summer get by so fast? Near the end, and she hadn't seen it coming. And the fair was a big deal, too. She scolded herself for not giving it due attention. She had prize cattle to get ready, pies to bake, and—oh, lord, so little time. Yes. She needed to get things done. No time for rest.
As she drew near the front desk, she noticed Doc Willis standing close by, talking to a nurse. Emma acted impulsively and approached Doc to tell him about Fred. No matter how small the action, she felt it important to let the hospital know. "Hey, Doc!" she called, then began to explain this afternoon's event.
"Well, that certainly is an interesting development," he responded, then turned to the nurse. "Mattie, run some tests on Fred Clinton's vital signs. I want to see if there's any change. Soon as possible, okay?" Mattie nodded and walked away. Doc Willis turned back to face Emma.
"Now, how are you doing?" Doc studied the tired lines and dark shadows under her eyes. "Been gettin' enough rest?"
"Dadblast it! What in creation is it with you people! Quit worryin' about me and just take care of Fred!" She finished and stomped off out the door, leaving a very baffled, surprised doctor standing there.
Chapter 40
Fred winced as he felt a stab of pain in his arm. At least he believed it was pain. He wasn't sure of anything lately it seemed. Images, cloudy and fuzzy, danced across his mind. Pictures of faces, some familiar, some not. Voices echoed, some warm, friendly, but some … He moaned as he trembled in fear. Of what, again, he wasn't sure. He so wanted to speak, to call out for help. His lips were so heavy though. They wouldn't move, no matter how hard he tried to make them work. Why couldn't he just get up from this bed and leave this room? He didn't like it here. It smelled like antiseptic. He wrinkled up his nose in disgust. His bed, his home, that's where he should be. Why wouldn't someone listen? Of all those faces and voices coming and going, someone had to hear his pleas. Home, let me go home. Where it's safe. He didn't really feel safe here. Unpleasant things could happen.
Those images seemed to darken now. He shivered. It seemed so cold. And dark. The voices were fading. He could hardly hear, but … No. There it was. Very faint. A voice he didn't trust. Wait! Now it was gone. A vacuum. He felt as though in a room with no sound, no color. Just dark. And numb. He frowned, confused.
Please! Not now. I don't
want to go now!
The cry came from deep inside.
Too late, too dark
.
* * *
"That's an obstruction of justice! Plain and simple!" Caleb shouted, quite irritated by now. He and Daniel had been arguing for nearly an hour. Of course, in total honesty, he was more frustrated with the lack of progress in this case than he was with Daniel not turning over the suicide note right away. Every time he recalled a sarcastic comment from Aunt Emma or thought how the town laughed at him behind his back, Caleb saw red. Never in his life had anyone been proud of him. Never in his life had he done something to be proud of. Nothing ever great. He recognized the fact and it left him despondent.
Now was his chance. Maybe his only chance. And it had become frustrating as hell to keep running into dead ends. He looked at Daniel wearily. The Indian was one of his biggest critics, but Caleb also knew that Daniel was very bright. He could be a big help in this case, if only they'd stop fighting each other.
"Sorry, Sheriff. I know it was wrong, but Maria deserved to read it," Daniel spoke calmly, though silently he was berating himself for leaving it up to Maria and Alma to turn over the note.
Caleb suspected there was more to it than that, but he had no proof. "Suppose you wouldn't know why she waited two
weeks
before she brought it to me!"
Daniel's eyes narrowed to two small slits. "Maybe she's a slow reader."
"Damn it, Ross! I don't need your smart mouth. I need your help!" Caleb shouted angrily, while he clenched his fists to control anything else from coming out.
However, both men got quiet, as they seemed to realize the strange twist matters had taken with the sheriff's words. Even though they often found themselves on opposite sides of the fence, Caleb knew there was one thing they had in common. A commitment to this town and its people. He envied how Daniel openly showed his feelings of dedication, while he, Caleb, had a much tougher time of it. What was meant in one way came out and was taken in another. He stumbled his way through countless situations dealing with many people and always with the same result. He looked like the bad guy. The one who didn't care enough, didn't give a hoot, when in truth he cared very much. Those were the feelings crying to come out. He was one of the good guys, damn it. Why could no one see that?
And so here he was once more, struggling to make it right. He'd let down that shield, that "tough guy" image, to reveal his vulnerability, if that's what it took. Right now, he could admit, he needed help.
At the moment, Daniel could only think one thing. Caleb was human after all. He stared at the sheriff with inquisitive eyes. Had he been wrong all this time? Of course, it might just be temporary, this human-like behavior. After all, what was it? Something about desperate men commit desperate acts? Well, Caleb probably was desperate with all that had gone on recently. But was that all there was to it? Could there be more to this man than … well, than he ever could have imagined? He shrugged his shoulders. It's possible. Anything is possible. So why not give him a chance? Just might be they both wanted the same things—to find Fred's and Jess' attacker or attackers, to know if Joseph had really taken his own life, who set the fires, done the wire tampering—the list went on. It would be a relief to find these things out, he admitted. So, why not? His argument seemed convincing enough to Daniel.
"All right. I'll help you," he said and then pointed a finger in warning. "But on one condition."
"What's that?" Caleb looked like a salivating puppy, anxious for that long, cold drink and willing to do anything for it.
"You listen to what I might suggest, instead of flashing your sheriff's badge of authority in my face." Daniel waited for the wail of protest. Surprisingly it didn't come.
"Anything to catch the vermin doin' this," he spoke and nodded at the same time.
So he was genuine, Daniel realized. Maybe he was witnessing a new Caleb with a wiser frame of mind. He then proceeded to fill Caleb in on everything he knew and his opinion of it all. Of course it was no surprise he had much more to contribute than Caleb did. Still, the sheriff had one ace up his sleeve. Something Daniel never figured on and it was a great piece of luck.
"Joseph and Maria both told me this. And I have no reason to doubt them," he defended.
"So, you're saying Joseph was working for Lucas? Then, when he wanted out, Lucas threatened him?" Daniel's mind was racing, connecting what he'd just learned to the facts he already knew.
"Yep. Maria overheard their conversation a few weeks ago. She'd gone to bed, but woke up when she heard Lucas raise his voice. She says the words were loud and clear. 'You'll be sorry for quittin'. And if you even think to open your drunken mouth, I don't need to tell you what'll happen, now do I?' Maria says Joseph cowered back and promised he'd never say a word."
"Don't you see? That means this could very well be a motive for murder." Daniel paced back and forth.
"Or could be a strong motive for suicide. Desperation, scared of facin' what's to come," Caleb suggested.
Daniel had to admit that was another side of the coin. But who was right? He needed to talk to Lucas again. Put the pressure on once more. He firmly believed Lucas was behind all that happened, the central piece. But why? That was the part of the picture still missing. And it was an important part. Without it they had nothing. A twinge of discouragement touched him as he analyzed what they did have. So much had been uncovered, but he felt more confused than ever. If things didn't break wide open soon, hard telling what would happen next.