Her Last Letter (7 page)

“I’m going to give you a referral to that psychiatrist friend of mine, just for some medication, something to help you relax, nothing heavy duty. I want you to-”

“No, I don’t want to take anything. I’m okay.”

“Of course. But you can always call me if you change your mind. I do think we should see each other again. Maybe next week, if that’s all right.”

“Sure.”

“Talk to Rachel on your way out. Tell her I said to fit you in.”

“All right.”

I stood and my knees buckled slightly. I hoped Janet hadn’t noticed, but she glanced down, then back up into my eyes. “You’re certain you’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

I bypassed Rachel. I just wanted out of there. I’d call and make the appointment later on … or maybe not.

I was consumed with thoughts of Kelly on the drive home.

Initially, police surmised she’d been a random victim of a drunk driver who’d swerved out onto the gravel shoulder, hit her, then panicked and fled. But no one could supply the answer to one important question. What was Kelly doing walking alone on a deserted road so late at night?

The morning after she died, reeling from the news, I drove over to the old house. When I opened the garage door, I found Kelly’s pickup parked inside. She’d almost never bothered to pull her truck in, so I’d inspected further. Her right front headlight was smashed and the fender creased. Dried blood stained both the glass and metal.

Her killer had taken the time to drive her truck back to the house, pull it into the garage, and close the door. Everyone had assumed it was Craig Foster. He didn’t have an alibi, and he did have a record, drug offenses and other assorted crimes. He must have known they wouldn’t look any further. After he ran, the police had focused entirely on him.

As soon as I got home, I walked into the studio and checked my answering machine, which flashed ominously with seven messages. I started to play them back, but cut them off after the first one, from Linda.

I nervously dialed her number.

“Linda, I just got home. Are you all right? Why aren’t you at the hospital?”

“I think I’m okay now, well sort of, and I tried to call Wolfgang, but he hasn’t called back.”

“Call an ambulance-right now-or I will.”

“No, Gwyn, don’t. Please, you come and take me there. I’m only a little dizzy now. I don’t want an ambulance in the driveway flashing its lights. I don’t want to explain to the neighbors, okay? I swear. I’m not that bad.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes. Don’t hang up.”

I drove with reckless speed, hoping Linda was telling the truth, that she wasn’t hurt badly. But how can you fall down a flight of stairs and judge that for yourself? And who the hell cared what the neighbors thought?

I rushed through the front door calling her name. She was laid out on the couch, eyes shut, and for a second I wasn’t sure if she was conscious. Then she turned her head and tried to smile.

“God, Linda, don’t scare me like this.” I knelt beside her. “You look awful. Is anything broken? How’s your head?”

“I don’t know. I tried to get up and I felt nauseous, a little dizzy.”

“Let me call an ambulance. This is ridiculous.”

“No, don’t. I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute.”

Slowly, Linda tried to rise, easing her legs off the couch and gradually coming to a sitting position. “Whew-okay. One second, then we’ll try it.”

“Linda, this is really stupid. What if you faint and I drop you? It’s a long way to the Jeep.”

“No, we’re going to do this.”

I helped her up, supporting her under the arms as she attempted to come to her feet. Holding her tightly across the back and shoulders, I felt her legs shake from the effort to take her own weight.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re not going to pass out?”

“No. I’m okay.”

We carefully made our way out the front door and down the concrete walk to the driveway. Still holding Linda tightly, I struggled to open the car door. Finally, I managed to unlatch it and push it open with my knee. I stopped to take a breath, knowing this was one of the dumbest things I’d ever let Linda talk me into. “Okay, can you get in the car?”

“Wait,” she said, and I could almost see the nausea roll over her deathly white face.

“God, Linda. What are we doing?”

She lifted one foot onto the floor of the Jeep, then reached up for the seat. Lifting and pushing, I shoved her inside, then fastened her seat belt.

I scrambled to the driver’s side, jammed the Jeep into reverse and backed onto the road. Linda groaned, then coughed, her head listing toward the window. I watched from the corner of my eye, experiencing a wave of panic so strong I felt close to passing out myself.

I barely remember the drive to the hospital, but the look on my face must have been something because two orderlies rushed out to help me get Linda into the emergency room.

The doctor, a silver-haired gentleman with a dimple in his chin, seemed to take it all in stride. I watched as he went about his preliminary examination of Linda.

“She wouldn’t let me call an ambulance,” I added quietly as the doctor held her chin up and shined a small beamed instrument into her eye.

“And do you always do what your sister says?” he asked, never taking his eyes off his patient, who appeared too sick to say a word.

I stood there, shamefaced and silent, knowing he’d assessed the situation exactly.

“We’ll need to keep her overnight for observation,” he said. “She has a concussion. That’s the most serious issue, and some contusions, scrapes. We’ll check her out thoroughly for any internal problems. Do you know how this happened?”

“She fell down the basement stairs. I don’t know the details. She called me and-”

“I tripped,” Linda breathed softly.

“That’s okay,” said the doctor. “Don’t talk if it’s difficult for you.” He turned to me. “We’ll get her into a room as soon as we finish here and receive the results of the tests. You can take a seat outside now and we’ll call you when she’s settled in.” He smiled briefly.

“Thank you, doctor.”

I continued dialing Wolfgang until he finally returned my call on the cell.

“Your wife’s in the hospital,” I stated darkly.

“She’s where?”

“You heard me.”

“Is she okay? What happened?”

“No, she’s not okay. She has a concussion, bruises, maybe other serious stuff. They’re still checking her out. She fell down the stairs and she’s been trying to reach you ever since.”

“Oh, man. Oh, I’m so sorry, Gwyn. Really. I’ll be right over there.”

“Why didn’t you call her?”

“Oh-work. I don’t know. You’re right. I should have.”

“Yes, you sure should have. If not for me she might have lain there waiting for who knows how long.”

“Listen, Gwyn. It’s not what you think. She calls me every minute of every freakin’ day with something. If I called her back every time she called me I’d never get any work done.”

“Well, that’s still no excuse. Look what happened.”

“I know. You’re absolutely right. I’ll be right over.”

Fifteen minutes later he stepped through the sliding glass doors. I watched as he approached the desk and spoke with the nurse in charge. He acknowledged me with a raised hand as the woman before him pulled out forms and a clipboard with a pen attached. He walked over and took a seat beside me.

“I guess they’re putting her in a room pretty soon,” he said.

“Yes.” I looked him over. He wasn’t in his work clothes, but a pair of tan slacks and a brown leather jacket. I had to assume he’d taken the time to change at the house before coming over.

He studied the forms on his lap, flipping the pen between two fingers. “I need a coffee. You want one?”

“I guess. Sure.”

He stood and looked down at me, and I could see the impression of his muscular thighs bulging beneath his slacks.

“How do you like it?”

“What?”

“Your coffee. How do you like it?”

“Oh, cream and sugar. But don’t bother. I can get it.”

“Don’t worry about it. How much sugar?”

“Just a little, a spoon.”

He stepped over to the coffee machine.

He made me uncomfortable. I didn’t like being alone with him, especially being this near to him. Could this be the man who’d killed my sister? I’d never bothered to try and figure the guy out, or to look behind the obvious flirtatiousness to see what might be lurking there.

Wolfgang held the Styrofoam cup toward me. “It’s hot. Be careful.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“You’re welcome.”

He sat down and scooted his chair closer to mine, then balanced the clipboard on his knee. With a half smile, he leaned in toward me. “Tell me why in this age of instant information we still have to fill out these idiotic things.”

“I don’t know. Guess they need updated information.”

“Yeah, guess so.” He bent forward and began filling in the blanks.

After a minute, I glanced over his shoulder. “So, what is it they need to know so badly?”

He turned to face me. “Boy, you must be bored.”

“No. Just asking.”

“You sure are a funny gal. Now don’t take this wrong, because
I’m
just asking. But I get the feeling you don’t like me very much.”

“What?”

“Hey, it’s okay. I can see you’re a very private person. You don’t warm up to people that easy. I’m a little that way myself. Not everybody can take my sense of humor. And … maybe there’s something about me that kinda turns you off. I don’t expect everybody to like me. It’s not a problem.”

“I don’t dislike you, Wolfgang. I don’t. I just don’t know you very well. I’m sorry if you got that impression.”

“Okay, that’s fair.”

“But I do worry about Linda. You didn’t call her back when she needed you. That upset me very much. And she absolutely refused to let me call her an ambulance.”

“She did?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, she should have. What, you think I’d care? If she’s hurt, for sure I want her to call
somebody
.”

I studied his body language. He appeared sincere, but there was something glib and rehearsed about his answers, as if he’d already anticipated the questions. “Will you excuse me for a minute?” I said. “I need to call Trevor and tell him what’s going on.”

“Sure thing.”

I walked a short way down the corridor, then dialed my cell. Trevor didn’t answer, so I left a message explaining everything and telling him to drop by the hospital on his way home, or if that wasn’t possible, I’d see him later. I stopped to use the restroom, and when I returned to the front desk, Wolfgang was gone.

The nurse motioned me over. “Mrs. Lehman is in a room now if you’d like to make a short visit.”

“Yes, I would.”

She gave me the room number and directions.

Linda and Wolfgang were talking softly as I entered the private room. Wolfgang was seated close to the head of the bed, his hand gently stroking Linda’s hair. Though still sickly looking, Linda seemed happier.

“Hi, pumpkin,” I said. “I stopped to use the restroom or I would have been here sooner. Of course, they only announce anything when you’re not available. How are you feeling?” I pulled up a chair on the opposite side of the bed from Wolfgang.

“Better now. Tired though.”

Wolfgang looked over to me. “We have to keep it short. The doc just stuck his head in and doesn’t want her getting too tired. I told him you were on your way.”

“What did he say? Is she okay? Did they find anything internal?”

“No, she’s fine. Concussion and bruises, some scrapes. They’ll probably let her out tomorrow. She’s tough.” He patted her arm.

Linda smiled weakly at Wolfgang, then turned to me. “It was so stupid. I was moving some boxes and I tripped. I dropped the box, but missed the handrail. It happened so fast.”

“You have to be more careful,” I said.

“Oh, I know. I don’t want to come here again. Gwyn, could you call the club, let them know I won’t make my tennis lesson?”

“Of course.”

She sighed. “I’ll have to ask the doctor when I can play again, and Thanksgiving’s coming up.”

“Don’t worry about all that,” I said. “Just get well.”

A few minutes later a nurse appeared in the doorway and shooed us out.

Wolfgang hurried alongside me down the hall. “She’s out of it,” he said. “But she’ll be okay.”

“Yeah.”

It was already dark outside the double doors of the hospital. A raw icy wind had kicked up its heels, and I stopped to button my jacket before heading out. Wolfgang waited for me, then walked with me across the parking lot to our cars. I called Trevor again, but no answer, so I left another message, told him I was leaving the hospital and not to come by.

Trevor’s Cadillac was parked in the driveway when I pulled in. I walked inside, noticing a fire in the fireplace as I hung up my coat. A clinking of plates and silverware came from the kitchen. “Trevor?”

“In here, my tired girl.”

He smiled as I stepped into the kitchen.

“You’re cooking?” I asked.

He finished placing silverware on the table, then came over and hugged me. “I felt bad about not making it over to the hospital. So I thought you might like dinner-a-la-Trevor as an apology.”

“That’s so sweet.”

“How’s your sister doing? Okay?”

“She’s hurting, but she’ll be okay. I didn’t really expect you to make it to the hospital. I knew you’d come if you could.” I squeezed him closer still. “What a day. How was yours?”

“All right, except for your news. I was in a meeting when I got your message. I wanted to call back, but I had to play happy, I-have-no-other-life, Realtor. You know how it is.”

“Mm-hmm.” I sniffed the air. “So what did Chef Trevor prepare for dinner tonight?”

“Well, I had big plans in the beginning, thought maybe I’d try something gourmet. I actually looked through a couple of your cookbooks for ideas. But that scared me off, so instead we’re having broiled chicken with a really awesome barbecue sauce, plus a baked potato and a salad. I still have to make the salad. You got here sooner than I thought you would.”

“I’ll help you.”