Buried Biker (8 page)

Again the murmuring that I couldn’t make out.

“Nobody’s sure yet,” Li’l Mama said. “But your dad wants to know everyone who was involved. It’s too late now to keep it in the club. Once an ambulance got called and it was obvious you had to get to the hospital, there’s no way it can be quiet. The cops have the report from the emergency room. They’re gonna get the results from the rape kit, so there won’t be any doubt.”

Black Rose spoke up. “Some of the guys are trying to talk your dad into letting the cops handle it. He’s still on parole, and if they find out he’s out to make somebody pay, he’ll be violated. Better he should let someone else take care of it.”

They stopped talking. I wished they’d say more.

The old lady’s breathing became shallower and more regular. Her mouth drooped open, and a bubble formed at the corner.

A nurse hurried in, her footsteps hushed by the thick soles of her pristine white duty shoes. I kept turned toward the lady in the bed, hoping the nurse wouldn’t notice the bruises on my face too much. Or be able to describe me if Montgomery came asking questions. I was glad I’d thought to have my distinctive jacket folded up next to me instead of wearing it.

“I’m so glad you came,” the nurse said in a soothing voice. “She was so hoping you would. The social worker has been trying to contact family. We were beginning to think she had no one left. Are you Otto, the son?”

My gut twisted inside me. How could I lie about this? But how could I not? I said, “Yeah.” The words choked in my throat.

“It’s all right if you cry,” she said, mistaking the reason for my husky voice. “Losing a loved one is always hard, even if she has lived a good and rich life. But it means a lot to her to have you here. She’s calmer than she’s been since she arrived.”

“How much longer do you think she has?”

“Who knows? You could talk to the doctor when he comes around next. You do know we have a ‘Do not resuscitate’ order, don’t you?”

I didn’t, but I nodded. Sounded like a good idea to me. “Will she wake up again?” I asked, uncomfortable with the idea that her Otto would be gone when she did. Even if he was a fraud.

“Maybe. Maybe not. I think there’s a chaplain on tonight. Shall I send him up?”

The lady seemed to grow thinner, and her skin more transparent as I watched. “Yes, please.”

The nurse nodded and drew the curtain around the foot of the bed. Then she went over to the other side of the room.

“Time to check vital signs,” she said, her voice no longer hushed and somber.

I heard restless movements from beyond the curtain. “We gotta be going anyhow,” Black Rose said.

“Hey, Kelly, somebody’ll be by to see how you’re doing tomorrow. I’ll tell your dad it’s okay to come up. You want to talk to him, right?”

The answer was too soft for me to hear.

“Will someone from the sexual assault crisis team be checking on her again?” Li’l Mama asked.

The answer was too hushed for me to catch.

I listened as the leather heels from the women’s biker boots clicked past and went into the hallway. My nose caught a whiff of leather, oil, and cigarettes as they passed by.

The nurse talked cheerfully to Kelly as she worked. “Try to get some sleep. The doctor doesn’t want to give you another sleeping pill—you had such a bad reaction last time. If you can get some rest, you’ll probably feel better in the morning. You need to begin the healing process.”

A chair was set down on the floor with a thud. A drawer squeaked open and then shut. The lights dimmed and the nurse hurried out of the room, not stopping to peek in on us on the other side of the room.

The old lady’s hand slipped from mine. Her breathing was slow but regular. Then the next breath didn’t come. A smile still played on her lips. She seemed to shrink into the bedding. When I carefully withdrew my hand from hers, she didn’t move. I smoothed the sheet that covered her.

Trying not to disturb her—although if I was right she might be beyond being disturbed— I got to my feet and slid around the curtain to the other side of the room. Kelly lay there, her face swollen and her eyes shut. Was she asleep already?

“Kelly?” I said.

Her eyes flickered open and took a moment to focus on me. “You!” she said.

I grinned and reached for her hand. “Yeah. Me. How’re you doing?”

She pulled her hand back and tucked it under the covers. “I’ve been better. You come to apologize?”

That threw me. Apologize? I wasn’t sure what she meant, but right now it didn’t matter. “If you want me to,” I said.

“And you think that’s going to make things all better?”

This conversation wasn’t going anything like I’d expected. “What do you mean?”

She started to sit up, winced, and lay back down again. “You really think you can do this to me and come in and apologize and everything’s gonna be all right again?”

“What?”

“My dad’ll be looking for you and whoever else was part of this. You just better hope you get locked up before he finds you.”

Chapter 5

M
Y
H
EAD
S
PINNING
W
ITH
Q
UESTIONS
I had no way to answer, I hurried out of room, barely glancing at the old woman, whose motionless form seemed definitely smaller than before.

I didn’t want to run into anyone, especially any of the bikers. I dashed down the stairs instead of taking the elevator and found a door marked “Emergency Exit Only. Alarm Will Sound.”

The hell with the alarm.
As far as I was concerned, this
was
an emergency.

I shoved the door open and left the hospital.

The alarm sounded. Loudly.

The door slammed behind me. I was in a parking lot on the side of the hospital. Breaking into a run would only draw more unwanted attention, so I suppressed the urge and walked quickly through the parking lot, crossed the street, and plunged into dark alley between two tall buildings. I pressed myself up against the wall.

Stupid thing for me to do, set off an alarm.

Trying to keep in the shadows, I peered out of the alley back toward the emergency exit door. The alarm continued to shrill.

An elderly security guard, his radio grasped firmly in his hand, approached the door from the outside. No urgency showed in his step. He looked around the parking lot, then took out a big key and unlocked the door. He stepped inside, letting it shut behind him. A few seconds later, he came out again and pushed the door closed, tugging on it to make sure it wouldn’t open from the outside. He lifted the radio to his mouth, but I was too far away to hear what he said. The alarm quieted. Then he strolled back in the direction from which he had come.

I leaned back against the dirty brick wall of the alley and tried to think. What made Kelly blame me for the attack? She had to realize I wasn’t
there
. Did she have a head injury that was messing with her mind? Some kind of traumatic brain injury?

Or was
I
the one with the problem? That was a scary thought. I couldn’t have had some kind of blackout and done something horrible that I didn’t remember, could I? I didn’t use drugs or alcohol so it couldn’t be a blackout caused by either of them.
Was I losing my mind?

Montgomery had cut me loose. He’d based that on
something.
I had no idea how long it would take for DNA tests to come back from the forensics lab, but a few hours on a weekend seemed much too fast. Hadn’t he said Kelly had told them the attacker
wasn’t
me?

The throaty roar of accelerating motorcycles reached me, and two bikes swept around the corner and past me, their headlights glaring off the damp asphalt. I couldn’t make out much as they passed the alley entrance, but I could see one was Old Buckles’ trike. The women were on the backs, Li’l Mama behind Funky Joe and Black Rose with Old Buckles. I choked on the exhaust fumes. Or was it grief?

Was Kelly invoking the old outlaw biker rule of never involving the authorities if it could be avoided? The Predators stuck together, and they tended to take care of their own problems. Usually violently. A light rain began to fall. The road would be slippery. Glad I wasn’t on two wheels. Or even three, exposed to the weather like that. Hitching up the collar of my jacket, I stepped out of the alley and headed for home. If Kelly didn’t want to talk to me, I didn’t see any way to find out why she thought I was involved in the attack.
Who could I talk to?

Or, since Montgomery seemed satisfied that I wasn’t involved, maybe I should just leave well enough alone.

And hope the bikers would, too. Fat chance.

The rain was beginning to freeze as it hit the ground. The stairs down from the sidewalk to my one-room apartment were getting slick. It might be Saturday night, but it would be a good night for me to spend at home.

I rummaged around in my single kitchen cupboard and the under-the-counter half refrigerator, looking for something to fix for supper. The last time I’d eaten had been breakfast at the jail. I’d missed lunch and been released before they served supper.
Lucky me.

My food budget was limited, and it seemed like every time I went to the store, my staples of ramen noodles, peanut butter, eggs, and tuna went up in price. The jail’s eggs had been edible, but I could fix better. I scrambled two eggs, slicing in part of an onion and green pepper. I hesitated before putting in an expensive slice of cheese, but decided to go for it. Then I toasted two pieces of cheap white bread and made myself a cup of instant coffee.

Making it all into a sandwich, I put it on my rickety table and sat in one of my two equally rickety chairs.

The only light came from a security light outside which overlooked the dumpster. My single window was placed high on the interior wall, but this was a basement apartment and the view was a knee-high one of the alley. Just enough light shone through it for me to eat by. It was quiet except for the lonesome sound of the rain, which sounded like it was changing to sleet.

Someday I was going to splurge on a radio, just for the long hours like this. Or even a TV. Right now I knew they were impossibly expensive luxuries.

The apartment was a single room, but it came furnished. Some people might find it less than satisfactory, with its decrepit, mismatched furniture, the kitchen and tiny bathroom stuck along one wall, and the lack of natural light. Those people hadn’t spent years locked in a prison cell.

I reached over to the unsteady dresser and picked up a library book, flipping through the pages. The prison library had been my salvation for all those years I was locked up, and now the public library, free for anyone who could prove residency, was my main source of both entertainment and information. I would be eternally grateful to the library clerk who had unquestioningly accepted my prison ID and lease for the apartment as sufficient identity and proof of residence for issuing a library card.

Lately I was reading everything I could get my hands on about the Civil War, especially in this area of Maryland. Someday I planned to visit the preserved battlefields in the area. Maybe even go to Gettysburg. If I could get permission from my parole officer to leave the state. And if I ever got transportation.

It would be fun to take Kelly’s kids there and show them around. She could drive.

Kelly. A lump formed in my throat.

Certainly didn’t look like I would be taking Kelly’s kids anywhere in the near future. Or ever.

What
was going on with her?

There wasn’t enough light to read easily, and the words in the book blurred on the page. With a sigh, I wiped my eyes and put it down. I had lighter reading, a book of horror short stories. But the images seemed all too real and too possible to me. I finally got up to do the dishes instead. I decided to take a quick shower and climb into the lumpy but warm bed that came with the apartment.

It sure beat a prison bunk, with its thin fire-resistant crinkly mattress and its single grey woolen blanket, I reminded myself firmly.

Tomorrow was Sunday. On Sunday mornings I usually liked to walk through downtown which had a church on almost every corner. I wasn’t about to be a total hypocrite and try to join one, but the families looked solid and content in their Sunday best, and sometimes I could hear the choirs sing.

They didn’t usually pay me much mind, maybe a dismissive glance, but with my face all beat up like this, I might be better off staying away. If the parents took a look at me and pulled their kids protectively closer, I’d pretend to ignore it, but it would hurt. Besides, it looked like it was going to be icy and cold.

I had to be to work at midnight for my Monday shift. I should probably get there a bit early, since it didn’t look like Kelly was going to be showing up for work.