Adams Grove 03-Wedding Cake and Big Mistakes (16 page)

“How many floaters have you seen?”

Good point.
“None in person. Only on television.”

Scott walked over to Connor. “I’ve honestly never seen one myself. I’ve got a call into the State boys. We just don’t have the resources for this kind of investigation.”

“Is that common? I mean, to call in help?” Connor knew it was wrong to keep looking, but he couldn’t help himself. The turtle flailed in an attempt to turn or jump off, but the way he was balanced, his feet just swam in mid-air. With no success, the turtle opened and closed his mouth in a way that looked like he was saying, “Little help here, please.”

“Sure,” Scott said. “We do it all the time.”

Three local sheriff cars and a state trooper pulled into the back lot of the artisan center.

“I’m going to get out of your way, Scott.”

“Thanks for your help, man. Sure didn’t expect to be spending today like this.” Scott slapped him on the shoulder as he walked by.

He gave Scott a nod as he headed back up to the building.
I’m sure this wasn’t exactly how Jill and Garrett had the day planned, either.

Carolanne sat next to Jill on one of the couches in the back of the room. She’d probably be here all night consoling her. He’d counted on the romance of a wedding to soften her up. It looked like his plans for a romantic evening were not going to get too far tonight.
Nothing like a dead body to bust a mood, and under the circumstances, I’m not much in the mood now, anyway.

Scott’s team split up and began taking statements from folks.

Jill and Garrett talked with Scott in the office, while Carolanne and Connor waited for their turn to talk with the officers. Even though the space was filled with people, it was eerily quiet.

Connor took Carolanne’s hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “There really aren’t any words for what is going on. Such conflicting events—the beginning of two people’s lives together and the end of another. And tragically.”

Carolanne leaned against his arm. “Looks like everyone else is feeling the same way.”

When Garrett and Jill came out, they walked straight over to Carolanne and Connor.

“She’s so young,” Jill said.

Connor nodded. “I’d never seen her before. Might have just been someone traveling down Route 58.”

Garrett took Jill’s hand in his own. “They’re trying to establish the timeline, I think. Jill told them that Ben would’ve been the last one working on the grounds last night. Is he still around?”

“No. He left a little while ago,” Carolanne said.

“I guess Mac and his team were the last to come in through the back entrance. I gave them the access code so they could come in sometime this morning to set up,” Jill said.

“We can check the alarm logs to get that information,” Garrett said. “I’ll make the call.”

She sighed. “I still can’t believe this is really happening.”

Connor knew Jill would be worried about the grand opening, too. No one mentioned it, but when the news got hold of this story,
they’d be as excited as weathermen in a hurricane. Either people would flock to the grand opening to get a peek at the crime scene or steer clear. He hoped for Jill and Garrett’s sake that the news didn’t pick up the story at all. They had so much money tied up in this project. This could really break them.

Chapter Fourteen

Sirens screamed down Route 58, adding to the gray mood that hung over what should have been a day of celebration. As guests finished answering the deputy’s questions, they left and the artisan center was beginning to empty out.

Carolanne wished she had a change of clothes with her. Somehow, hanging out in a fancy gown felt very wrong under the circumstances, and it wasn’t too easy to sit elegantly for this many hours, especially on a hand-crafted love seat made of reclaimed barn boards. She listened quietly as Garrett played the role of new husband and best friend, a role that had always been hers, to Jill. Garrett had always been in the picture, so she hadn’t thought them getting married would change her relationship with Jill.
It’s changing.
That stung.

Sheriff Scott Calvin walked in and sat down next to Carolanne.

“Tough day,” Garrett said.

Scott nodded. “Getting tougher. There’s also been an accident.”

Carolanne leaned forward. “Is there something you need us to do here? Do you need to leave?”

He turned toward her. “Actually, you need to leave.”

“Me?”
What did I do?

Connor walked up behind Jill and Garrett. “What’s up?”

“The sirens that just went by—there’s been an accident. It’s Ben. They’re taking him to Regional.”

Carolanne froze into blankness as she searched for a plausible explanation. “No. It can’t be Dad. He left a little while ago, right?” She looked to Connor.

“He did,” Connor said. “Maybe he didn’t go straight home. Is it serious, Scott?”

“It’s not good.” Scott clamped his hands together. “Sorry.”

Carolanne flinched at the tone in Scott’s voice.

Scott pulled the keys from his pocket and flipped them to Connor. “Here. Take the Woodie. Y’all’s cars are back at the church. I’ll catch a ride with my guys.”

Carolanne stood, looking to Jill, then Connor.

“He’s got to be OK. I’ll come with you,” Jill said. “Garrett, you’ll stay here?”

“No,” Carolanne said. “No. You both stay here.” She pulled her hand to her heart. “How can so much happen in one day?”

Connor reached for Carolanne’s hand. “I’ve got this. I’ll take her and we’ll call you as soon as we know something.”

Carolanne nodded and let Connor lead the way outside to the truck.

“This can’t be happening.”
Dad, we just made our first step. Please be all right. Please, please, God, let him be OK.

Connor helped Carolanne into the passenger seat of the old Woodie, then ran around to get behind the wheel. He started the truck and revved the engine, speeding out of the parking lot and heading west on Route 58 toward the hospital.

“I hope he wasn’t drinking.” She hadn’t realized she’d even said it aloud until Connor reached over and squeezed her hand.

His voice was comforting. “I don’t think so. I didn’t see him even take a sip of champagne.”

“I hope he’s OK.” Carolanne closed her eyes, trying to silence the worry.

“Me, too.”

She stared out the window. Then, just a couple of miles up the road, flashing lights lined the right side of the road.

“Is this where the…?” She raised herself in her seat, trying to get a better look.

“This doesn’t look good,” Connor said.

A suffocating sensation tightened in her throat.
Please let it be a mistake. Don’t let it be my dad.

Connor slowed down behind the rest of the rubberneckers.

“It
is
his car!” It looked like the metal pole had been pile-driven down the middle of the mangled mess that used to be the hood of her dad’s Pontiac. The windshield was cracked, and it sure didn’t look like there’d be any repairing that old car.

Carolanne stared at the heap of wreckage. She twisted in her seat, still looking as they drove past the accident. Not until they were well out of sight did she turn back and sit straight in her seat. “Sweet Jesus, don’t take him.”

Suddenly, the anger she’d clung to for so many years seemed even more trite and the time she’d wasted harboring it even more precious. They’d made a baby step toward repairing their relationship—but maybe there wasn’t time for baby steps when it came to things like this. She swallowed hard and wrapped her arms across herself.
I’m so sorry, Dad.

“It’s going to be OK.”

“You don’t know that.” She placed her hand in the palm of his. “You saw the wreck.”

“You’re right. I don’t. But I know I’ll be here with you through it no matter what. Don’t give those negative thoughts any power. Have faith.”

Faith.
She nodded and tried to gather strength through his touch.

Connor pulled in front of the emergency room doors at the regional hospital and stomped on the brakes. “Go on in. I’ll park and catch up with you.”

She leapt from the vehicle, slammed the door, and ran inside.

The woman at the desk looked like she had been there a long time already. She glanced up and then tapped her finger on a clipboard. “Sign in, dear,” she said with all the speed of a rowboat in a river of molasses.

“My father was brought in by ambulance. Ben Baxter.”

The woman raised her head and paused.

That pause made Carolanne’s heart hitch. “Can I see him? Is he OK?”

She tugged the glasses from her nose. “They just got here. I’ll let you know as soon as they give me an update. You can take a seat in the waiting area.”

Nothing reassuring there.
Carolanne glanced at the clock. How long would it be before she’d at least know that he was OK?

She leaned against the seafoam-green cinder block wall. She was too antsy to sit. All she really wanted right now was to curl up in a little ball and cry. She raised her hands up over her eyes.

A strong hand skimmed her shoulder.

She turned right into Connor’s arms and let the tears flow.

“What’d they say?” he whispered into her hair.

She shook her head. “Nothing yet.”

“You’re shaking.” He pulled his suit jacket off and draped it around her shoulders. “Here.” He rubbed his hands over the jacket and then tugged her back into his arms.

In his arms, with her face buried in the darkness of his coat, felt like the safest place she could be.

Connor stepped away and plucked a couple of tissues from a box on a nearby end table. “Here you go.”

She took them and squeezed them into the palm of her hand.

“Come over here and sit down.”

Carolanne took off her high heels and hitched up the long gown as she walked so as not to step on it. She followed him to the waiting area, sniffling back tears and gulping air. Connor helped her to a chair and then scooped the box of tissues up and set them in her lap.

“Calm down. They’ll let us know something shortly, but if it were bad, you can rest assured we’d already know that.”

She struggled to keep hope through the uncertainty.

They waited, hand in hand.

She leaned her head on Connor’s shoulder and closed her eyes. She had to, else she’d watch that clock, and the hands were moving painfully slow. Every time the doors opened, her heart lurched.

Finally, a nurse in navy blue scrubs came out to the waiting room. “Are you with Mr. Baxter?”

Carolanne sprang from her seat. “Yes, we are.”

“You can come back and see him,” the nurse said with an expressionless face.

Carolanne grabbed her shoes in one hand and raced to catch up with the nurse. “Is he OK?”

The nurse smiled a tired half smile. “He’s going to be fine. Sorry it took us so long. Your father was unconscious when the ambulance transported him. We did a CT scan to rule out a head bleed or hemorrhage. Things look OK, but we’ll be watching for any signs of a concussion. He’ll be here at least overnight. He has pretty bad gash on his noggin, but he’s in good hands here.”

Carolanne let out the breath she’d been holding. “Thank goodness.”

Connor gave her hand a told-ya-so squeeze.

The nurse breezed down the hall like she had on roller skates.

Carolanne let go of Connor’s hand and double-stepped to catch up with her. “Excuse me. Wait. Can you answer something else for me?”

The nurse stopped and turned to face her. “Sure. I’ll try.”

Carolanne bit down on her lower lip and then gathered the strength to ask the question. “Was alcohol a factor?”

“No.”

Her answer was quick. That was a relief.

Then the nurse tilted her head slightly. “Well, not unless that dog he swerved to miss was drunk. But no, your father hadn’t been drinking.”

“Thank you.” Relief washed over her. Guilt, too, for even having asked, but she’d needed to know.

The nurse smiled and then started walking down the hall again.

Carolanne cleared her throat. “Don’t tell him I asked that, OK?”

The nurse turned slightly. “It’s fine. I understand.” The nurse’s white clogs made a squishy whisper sound with each step. She stopped in front of Room 11 and placed the chart back in the door. “He’s all yours.”