He nodded and took a series of long, deep breaths. “It must have been all that smoke in my lungs. And then running.”
“With me on your back. And then your head wound. It must have been debris from the explosion that hit you. I wish you could have fit under the car.”
“Even when I was thinner I really never could have fit under even an SUV.”
“We need to call an ambulance.”
“We need to call somebody if we want to get back to town.” He looked at the two front tires of the Yukon. They were flat and the wheels were pushed in. “And the fire department needs to come out here and douse those flames before the forest catches on fire.”
Jamison pulled out her phone and called Green, succinctly explaining to him what had happened. The detective promised a response ASAP.
She put the phone away and looked back at the trailer. “Somebody really wanted us dead.”
“That’s actually a good thing.”
“What do you mean?” she said, looking horrified by his words.
“It means we’re making somebody nervous. Which means we’re heading in the right direction. Which is a good thing.”
“It wouldn’t be so good if we were dead!” snapped Jamison.
“Do you have the graph paper?”
“What?”
The graph paper from the house?”
“My God, Decker, we were nearly killed. And you apparently did die. And all you can think about is the case?”
When he didn’t say anything, she sighed, pulled out the graph paper from the evidence pouch in her bag, and handed it to him.
With the tissues stuck to his head, Decker laid the paper on the ground and used the flashlight feature on his cell phone to go over it. He held the light an inch from the paper and still had to squint to make things out.
“See anything?” she asked.
“Just impressions from the pencil or pen he used to draw something on the sheet above this one. It looks to be pretty large. It covers most of the sheet. I’ll take a better look at it when we have some decent light.”
He clicked off the phone light, handed the paper back to Jamison, rose, and leaned against the truck bumper.
Jamison said, “Do you think whoever it was we chased came back and tried to kill us?”
“I don’t know. Could be, but that would have been a risk.”
“So maybe somebody else? Do you think we were followed?”
Decker looked back at the dirt and gravel road. “It would have been hard for anyone to follow us here without us seeing them.”
She looked back at the trailer. “Good thing we went over that before it disappeared. Though we didn’t find anything, really.”
“We found some things.”
“Like what?”
He suddenly clutched his head and groaned.
“Decker, what is it?” asked Jamison anxiously.
“Just the mother of all headaches.”
A few minutes later two police cars, an ambulance, and two fire engines showed up.
The firemen dealt with the trailer, dousing it and the surrounding area with water. Two EMTs checked out Jamison and Decker. She had some bumps and bruises and some smoke inhalation. They treated her and gave her oxygen. They did the same with Decker, but after examining his head wound and testing his cognitive responses, they insisted that he go to the hospital for an X-ray and other tests.
“I don’t have a concussion,” said Decker. “At least not a bad one.”
Jamison admonished, “Decker, you stopped breathing. So you’re going to the hospital. I’ll ride with you in the ambulance.”
As they drove off, Decker lay back on the gurney with a bloody bandage wrapped around his head. Jamison had wiped her dirty face and tried to get some stains off her clothes with a clean wet cloth that one of the EMTs had given her.
“I’m going to have to get some new clothes. When packing for this trip, I didn’t account for being nearly drowned in a monsoon and then almost blown up.” She leaned back against the interior wall of the ambulance and closed her eyes while Decker stared at her from the gurney.
Decker said quietly, “So, Alex, are you enjoying it?”
She opened her eyes and gave him a bewildered look. “Enjoying what?”
“Your vacation.”
Chapter 17
Green said, “He had a metal plate put in his head from an industrial accident.”
Decker was in the process of being discharged from the hospital. Despite his protests to the contrary, he had suffered a concussion. They had determined that his heart had stopped due to a combination of the blow to the head and smoke inhalation. In lieu of sutures they had glued his scalp back together, and consequently his hair stuck up like a cockatoo’s feathers. He also had on dark glasses because of the concussion.
“I feel like I have a metal plate in my head,” groused Decker.
Green was walking beside the wheelchair taking Decker to a new rental truck Jamison had arranged. She was behind the wheelchair pushing Decker along.
“So Toby Babbot’s disability was brain-related?” asked Jamison.
“Appears to be. His employment history had been spotty since then. A few menial jobs. Living on unemployment. When that ran out he got on partial disability. But it didn’t pay much.”
“And where did he live before he moved to the trailer?” asked Decker.
“He shared a house with a woman, Betsy O’Connor. Strictly platonic, at least that’s what she claimed when I talked to her last week.”
“What was the connection?” asked Jamison.
“They knew each other. Both fell on hard times. They couldn’t afford the place separately, but they could together. It actually happens a lot here.”
“So why did he move out?” asked Decker.
“Couldn’t keep a job, and while O’Connor worked a number of jobs, her salary alone couldn’t cover the rent and utilities. They lost the house and had to split up. She lives in an apartment on the east side of town with two other roommates. And Babbot apparently found that abandoned trailer in the woods and moved in there. Not sure if he lived anywhere else in between residing with O’Connor and then at the trailer.”
“Did he have a car?”
“He did. But he lost it to the bank.”
“So how’d he get around?” asked Jamison.
“I don’t know.”
“How do you think he got to the house where he was found dead with Joyce Tanner?” asked Jamison.
“Maybe his killer took him there.”
As they reached the new rental, Decker stood up, though he was still a bit shaky. Green put a supportive arm around him.
“You sure you’re okay? Maybe you should spend the night in the hospital.”
“I’m good. I’m actually hungry. I’ll be fine after I eat.”
“I can recommend a place over on Baron Square. The Little Eatery. Good food and not pricey. Not that we really have pricey here.”
“Baron Square, huh?” said Jamison. “You just can’t get away from the name, can you?”
“I’d have to move,” said Green, smiling. “Oh, and I had our arson guy check out the trailer. Don’t know what was used to lock you both in, that’s long since gone. But he found remnants of something like a Molotov cocktail and a pile of dry wood under the trailer that showed evidence of being the point of origin of the fire. Even with all the rain we had, that wood would have gone up in an instant. And that trailer was really old. Doubt it would pass fire code these days.”
Jamison drove them to her sister’s house, where they cleaned up and regrouped downstairs about thirty minutes later. Even though it was nearly nine, Frank Mitchell was still at work and Amber and Zoe were at a school event. Jamison had not told her sister what had happened to them. She checked her watch. “It’s getting late. I hope they’re still serving.”