Night Tides (24 page)

Korbus had gone limp, but she didn’t stop. Something cracked like a large walnut. The sound of his head hitting the concrete grew squishier.

“Rachel!” a new voice cried.

She turned and looked up the stairs. Marty Walker and a uniformed officer stood, guns drawn and pointed, it seemed,
at her
. She blinked, and suddenly she felt cold, and afraid, and tears swelled in her eyes.

“Call an ambulance, Marty,” she said, her voice small and weak but utterly calm. “A black widow spider bit Patty… . Please, hurry.” Her vision began to blur. “Please…” She looked at Patty, who lay as still as Korbus.

Then she passed out. She never saw Ethan push past the officers, his bulk making the stairs creak as he charged down them, calling her name.

CHAPTER THIRTY

I
S
THAT A BLINK
,
or are you just glad to see me?” Helena said.

Rachel’s eyelids rose like a rusted garage door. She squinted into the light and for an instant thought she was seeing the bulb dangling in Korbus’s basement. It sent a surge of adrenaline through her, and with a gasp she sat upright.

“Shit!” cried Helena, jumping back into Marty. He caught her, and she fluttered a hand at her chest. “Christ, Rach, don’t
do
that!”

Rachel looked around at the hospital room, then down at herself. White gauze and tape encircled her wrists. When she shifted her feet, she felt similar bandages on her ankles. An IV needle was taped into the back of her left hand. Her hair was pulled back from her face, and she wore only a light hospital gown. The room was a double, but the other bed stood empty.

She flopped back on the pillows and sighed with relief. If this was a dream, she’d take it. “What hospital is this?” she croaked.

“University,” Marty said.

“Do they take my insurance?”

“They do.” He wore a neat suit, with his badge hanging from the front breast pocket. Only the dark circles under his eyes betrayed his weariness. “How do you feel?”

She managed a smile. “Like reused coffee grounds.” Then, with a rush, everything came back to her, and she sat up again. “What about Patty? The girl with the spider bite? Is she okay? Can I see her?”

“She’s fine,” Marty said reassuringly. “They got to her in plenty of time. But if you hadn’t told us what was wrong with her it might’ve been different, so you saved her life.”

“You saved all of them,” Helena said, her voice tinged with wonder. “You killed that guy bare-handed. You’re a hero.”

“Yes,” Marty agreed. “It’s… pretty amazing.”

“I don’t feel very amazing,” Rachel said. “How long have I been here?”

“Not long. We brought you in at about one this morning.”

She looked around again. Marty said, “He’s not here.”

When she turned to him he continued, “I sent Ethan home. He needed a shower and some sleep. He stayed here until the doctors assured him you were out of danger.”

She sighed and closed her eyes. “I could use some coffee. What are the chances?”

“Christ, even here I’m a waitress,” Helena teased, then leaned down and kissed Rachel’s forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

When they were alone, Rachel asked Marty, “So I really
did
kill him?”

“Yes,” Marty said.

She waited for the remorse, the disgust, the fear. She waited for any feeling at all. None came. “Will you arrest me if I say I don’t feel bad about it?”

“No. Do you want to talk about it?”

She thought about it for a long moment. “Yes. But not right now.”

He nodded.

“How did you find me?”

Now Marty was silent for a long moment. “Actually, Ethan figured it out. He suggested that your tattoos might be the thing that you and the other girls had in common.”

“Wow,” she said. Her stomach tingled a little. “So he…”

“He didn’t eat, sleep, or stop until we found you. He was with me when we came into Korbus’s house. He carried you to the ambulance. But…”

“But what?”

“Helena’s right. You’re the hero. Based on what the other women said, you would’ve gotten them out soon anyway. True, it would’ve been too late for the girl with the spider bite, but…” He shrugged and shook his head. “What can I say except, wow.”

Before Rachel could reply, Helena returned with three coffees, which she distributed. “I tasted it,” she said with a wrinkled nose. “Don’t expect much.”

“I’ll check back with you later,” Marty said. “I’ll need a statement describing what happened, but there’s no rush. And there’s a guard outside the door, to keep out the riffraff. You’re going to be pretty popular for fifteen minutes once this story gets out.”

“What was wrong with him?” she asked.

Marty shrugged. “Korbus? Who knows? Some men just have issues with women, I guess.”

“No, I mean physically. He said he was terminally ill.”

“Oh. Yes, he had pancreatic cancer. He had only a few weeks at the outside. Must’ve taken everything he had to do all that.”

Rachel nodded. “That explains a lot.”

“It explains some. We may never know it all.” Then he left.

Helena said, “I have to go too. Lord only knows what Jimmy will get into.”

It took a moment for that to sink in. “The diner’s open?”

“I took the liberty of hiring another waitress yesterday. I warned her it was temporary, but you might want to consider keeping her, especially if you now have a social life.” She kissed Rachel again, on the cheek. “They say you’ll be out tomorrow or the next day. I’ll be here to help you get home. Unless you have another ride lined up?”

“No, I want you,” Rachel said.

“Ew, it would be like doing my sister,” Helena joked.

After Helena had gone, Rachel got out of the bed and walked stiffly into the bathroom. In the harsh light, she undid the hospital gown and stood in front of a mirror.

Little scabs and Band-Aids covered her hips and thighs where the most pronounced splinters had been removed. Purple finger marks encircled one leg above the white ankle bandage.

But they paled next to her new tattoo. The hospital had coated it with antibacterial lotion, so it gleamed and twinkled as she moved. She had to admit, it was intriguing and beautiful. But it was also, she thought bitterly, a form of rape.

A
ROUND MIDNIGHT
,
when she felt certain no more visitors would appear, Rachel begged the nurse to let her use a laptop, ostensibly to check her e-mail. When she was alone, she logged on to
The Lady of the Lakes
and began to write.

Mystery solved. Some scrawny old guy was keeping pretty girls in his basement and drawing pictures on them. The girl who died was an accident, and now the bad guy’s dead too. You can read all about it in the paper. So for a while, at least, the sidewalks and streetlights should be safe again.

She scowled. It was a pretty weak entry, all things considered. And she hated the thought of sending
her
readers to the
Cap Jo
. But she didn’t feel up to writing in any more detail and then checking to make sure she’d said nothing to give her identity away. This would have to do. She posted it, erased the cache from the browser, and shut down the laptop.
The Lady of the Lakes
was back in business.

T
HE NEXT MORNING
Rachel was watching the local news when the door opened and Julie Schutes entered.

The reporter closed the door and stood with her back to it. Neither spoke for a long moment. Finally Rachel said, “May I help you?”

“We’ve met before. Julie Schutes,
Wisconsin Capital Journal.”

Rachel calmly pushed the button to summon the nurse. “Oh, I remember you. And I have no comment. On anything.”

“I’m not here entirely as a reporter, Ms. Matre.”

“How did you get past the guard?”

She shrugged. “I know most of the cops. They like me.” She crossed the room and stood at the foot of Rachel’s bed. “So before I get tossed out, you should know that I dated Ethan Walker for a little over two years. We were very serious.”

Rachel kept her reaction to herself. “I’ll add that to Wikipedia.”

Julie spoke carefully, as if she’d practiced the speech. “He’s too good for you, Ms. Matre. Seriously. He needs someone who can help him in his world, not drag him down into theirs.”

“Like you?”

“I don’t know. I realize how harsh and selfish this sounds. I appreciate that you’re a business owner and local hero, but the first doesn’t really count and the second will fade in about a week. You’re from the proverbial different worlds. You run a diner for college kids and borderline transients; he’s a war hero who puts up buildings worth millions of dollars.”

“We only went out once,” Rachel said.

“Yes, well, for his sake, just remember that. Don’t hurt him, but don’t try to hang on to him either.”

The door opened, and a nurse entered. “Can I help you?” she asked Rachel.

Rachel nodded at Julie. “Toss this bitch out, will you?”

R
ACHEL AND
E
THAN
walked to the end of the pier that extended from the entrance to the Yahara River locks. The channel allowed boats to pass from one lake to the next along the straightened, deepened, and maintained stretch of river that cut across the isthmus. Birds danced in the wind, and waves cut through the water.

They stopped at the most isolated bench. Rachel sat gingerly, easing down around the bruises, splinters, and cuts. Her bandaged wrists made her look like a failed suicide. Ethan waited until she’d situated herself, then he joined her. They sat in silence.

“How long until you start the tattoo removal?” he said at last.

“About three weeks. They want everything else to heal up first. Less chance of infection that way.”

He nodded.

She turned to face him. She’d avoided his phone calls and e-mails while in the hospital and cut short his visits with claims of pain-medication drowsiness. She knew he was confused by her response, and in some ways so was she. He’d gone through hell for her, risked reliving the awful experience in Iraq by accompanying the police to Korbus’s house, and certainly deserved better than he’d gotten from her. Yet she felt essentially nothing. She was not angry or embarrassed, just… numb. Until her feelings returned to normal, she knew she’d find his presence in her life as much an irritant as a blessing. And that was completely unfair.

She licked her lips and said, “Ethan, I need to tell you something.”

Her tone made it obvious this wasn’t good news, and she saw the fear and disappointment in his eyes. He kept his voice neutral, though, and said, “I figured.”

“I owe you my life. And I like you a lot. But I don’t think I’ll be very good company for a while. I certainly won’t be good company in…
that way.”

He nodded. “I can understand that.”

“I’m afraid if you stay around right now, every time I see you it’ll remind me of what happened. And I don’t want that. Not for me, not for you. So …”

He waited patiently.

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Goodbye, Ethan. At least for now.”

He looked down, then out at the lake, then up at the sky. She swore she heard the crack when his heart broke. “If you’re sure that’s what you need,” he said, “then I’ll honor it.”

“I’m sure,” she said, with a finality she didn’t feel but that she knew she needed to fake for everyone’s sake.

After another long moment he said, “I guess I should take you home, then.”

“No, I’ll walk. It’s not that far.” And she stood before she could change her mind.

He did as well. “Okay. If you ever need anything, you know where to find me.”

“I do.” She kissed him again, on the lips this time, but as chastely as the one on his cheek. Then she turned and walked away without saying another good-bye. The tears, born from the image of him in the arms of that leggy blond reporter, didn’t start until she was well out of sight.

What do you know?
she thought ironically.
I can still feel something after all
.

A
MBIKA PEEKED
into Ethan’s office. He sat looking out the window at the state capitol building, hands behind his head. The bronze statue atop the dome glowed in the afternoon sun. “Can I get you something before I leave, Ethan?”

“Hmm? Oh. No, thanks.”

“Did you see the bid on that community center?”

“I saw it, but I haven’t looked at it. I will, though.”

She nodded, turned, and left. He heard the outer door close, then lock. He glanced at the clock on his computer screen. It was four o’clock.

He took out his cell phone and scrolled through recent calls until he found Julie’s number. He ran his thumb over the call button.

Then he closed his phone and put it back in his pocket. He could hold off. What had happened between Rachel and him was worth the effort, even if she never knew what the waiting cost him.

T
HREE WEEKS
after Rachel left the hospital, Patty Patilia stood in the diner’s doorway, waiting for her eyes to adjust. Clara, the new waitress, said, “You can sit anywhere. I’ll be right with you.”

Rachel looked out of the kitchen, saw Patty, and came around the end of the counter. The two women hugged very gingerly, careful of each other’s wounds. They sported matching wrist scabs.

“How have you been?” Rachel asked, and took the stool beside Patty.

“Sore but productive,” she said. “Apparently a near-death trauma does wonders for your creativity. I’ve been writing songs like a madman, and I’ve got gigs booked through December.
Paying
gigs, even.”

“Some silver lining,” Rachel said.

“Yes, but I’d just as soon have skipped the cloud.”

Clara brought them coffee, trailed by a watchful Helena. The new waitress spilled a little on the counter, which made Helena cluck in disapproval. Rachel said, “Helena, Clara, this is Patty.”

“Hi,” Helena said.

“I saw you on the news,” Clara added. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

Helena leaned close and whispered, “Don’t banter, you have a counter full of people waiting for refills.”

“I’ve been a waitress before,” Clara snapped softly.

“Not here, you haven’t.”

The two women moved away. Rachel shook her head. She liked Clara a lot and would have to tell Helena to lay off pretty soon. To Patty she said, “I’m glad you’re feeling better too.”

Patty scowled. “Yes, except that everything itches. How about you?”

“I start the tattoo removal next Monday. Apparently blue and black are the easiest colors to remove, and those were mainly the ones he used on me.”

“Your own silver lining?” Patty said.