“I will. I am.”
Lisa broke away and strode through the living room. She had opened the closet door and had her hand on her jacket when Rachel said, “Not that way. You’ll be followed.”
“Huh?”
Rachel pushed Lisa’s jacket back into the closet. She grabbed her bright red parka from where she had tossed it over the back of a chair. “Wear this.”
Lisa put it on.
“My keys are in the car,” Rachel said. “Wave to the cop watching the end of your drive. If any car flashes its lights at you, flash back.”
“What about Maddy’s booster seat? Will he notice that it’s empty?”
“I’ve got a tote bag full of books and Maddy’s backpack in there. Stack them in the seat and drape one of her blankies over everything.” She hugged her sister. “For God’s sake, be careful.”
The expression on Rachel’s face made Lisa pause. “Are you sure?” she said. “I don’t want to screw up your marriage or get you into trouble.”
Rachel smiled an echo of a smile. “We’re sisters. Of course I’m sure. Now go. The faster you get to wherever it is, the faster you can get back.”
There was something about starting up Rachel’s car, wearing Rachel’s parka, that made Lisa feel less like a desperate wife out to help her fugitive husband and more like a teenager breaking curfew. Her hands shook with nervous excitement as she shifted into gear, and she held her breath as she rolled down the length of her drive.
She reached the hardtop road and put on her blinkers in the opposite direction from where she intended to go-just in case. Sure enough, parked in the darkness, sat a squad car, just as Rachel had said. Lisa hunched into the parka, and as she turned onto the road and passed the cop car, she raised her whole arm and waved, putting as much sleeve between her face and the window as possible.
She drove in a state of suspended animation for the next several minutes, her eyes on the rearview mirror instead of the road, expecting at any moment to see swirling red lights and headlights flashing her to the side of the road. But nothing happened. No one was following her. She had gotten away with it. She grinned, and the feeling of power and relief that flooded her body was almost enough to make the earlier fear and anxiety worthwhile. She switched her attention to the road in front of her. She had to find a crossroad to take her to one of the roads that would set her on the route to the Reid-Gruyn mill.
The first thing Clare heard was raised voices. Halfway down the hall from Becky Castle’s room, she stopped in her tracks as Ed Castle bellowed, “Goddammit, whyn’t you stop harassing her and find the son of a bitch who put her here!”
Russ frowned and quickened his pace. In other rooms, behind half-closed doors, hushed visitors clutched bouquets and green plants and peered toward the hall. Suzanne Castle’s voice fed the interest: “Will you be quiet, Ed! You’re upsetting her!”
Clare broke into a jog, catching up with Russ in time to round the corner and see him plunge through the door to Becky’s room.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Ed Castle snarled. She couldn’t see his expression, but he didn’t sound like a man ready to forgive and forget.
Clare hovered in the doorway. Russ filled the minuscule hallway between the toilet and the rest of the room, and she didn’t want to squeeze past him and stick her foot through the moment.
“Whyn’t you lower your voice, Ed.” Russ sounded like a twenty-year sergeant reining in a frightened PFC, simultaneously nerve-settling and authoritative. “I don’t think you want everyone in the hospital knowing your business.” He nodded in the direction of the far bed. “Becky, I’m glad to see you feeling better. Lyle.”
Clare edged along the wall behind Russ until she spotted Lyle MacAuley, propped up against the window.
“You’re not welcome here.” That was Ed. She still couldn’t see him, but she didn’t need to. The anger threading through his words spoke for itself.
“Ed, I’m sorry about what happened this afternoon. I truly regret it, and I wish I’d never been put in a position where I had to choose between a friendship and doing my job. But I wouldn’t be any kind of a cop, and I wouldn’t be keeping the people of this town safe, if I had done otherwise.”
“Safe? Safe?” Clare heard a footfall. “Look at my little girl! You call this keeping us safe? If there weren’t ladies present, I’d tell you where you can stick your apology.”
“Ed,” his wife soothed.
Russ stepped into the room, enabling Clare to see the Castles for the first time. Ed was standing pugnaciously beside the head of Becky’s bed; Suzanne was rising from a chair, her hands stretched toward him. When Russ took one more step toward his deputy chief, she finally saw Becky Castle.
And gasped.
Lyle’s gaze flicked toward her. His bushy brows raised, in surprise or salute, she couldn’t tell. Suzanne caught sight of her, too; the older woman wrenched her mouth into something halfway between a grimace and a smile. Ed kept his eyes on Russ.
“I’m not just here to apologize,” Russ said. “Lyle and I need to talk with Becky.”
“Talk with her? What’s wrong with you people? She’s told you who beat her up. I gave you his address! What else do we have to do, make the arrest?”
“We’ve been out to Randy Schoof’s place,” Lyle said. “He’s not home, but we have an officer staking out his drive. I’ve interviewed a friend he was with earlier. The friend alibis him, but he did give a list of places Schoof might be.”
“Fine. Get out there and find the little bastard.”
“We intend to, Ed. But we need to cover all the bases.” Lyle twisted so that he was facing Becky directly. He smiled at her as if she were still a pretty girl. “Becky, do you know a man named Shaun Reid?”
“Sure.” Her injured mouth slurred the word. “He owns Reid-Gruyn Pulp an’ Paper.”
“What’s your relationship with Shaun Reid?”
Despite her stitches, Becky frowned. “Wha’ d’ you mean?”
“Is it professional? Personal?”
“I don’ have a relationship with him. I know who he is, that’s all.”
Lyle glanced up at Ed and Suzanne, a protective wall of parenting. “Maybe we should talk about this without your mom and dad here.”
“The hell you say.” Ed bristled. “Anything you got to ask Becky, you can ask in front of us.”
Lyle’s cool gaze flickered toward Russ. Russ nodded, almost imperceptibly. “Becky,” Lyle said, “are you involved with Shaun Reid?”
“Wha’? No!”
“For chrissakes, Reid is married. And he’s practically my age! What does this have to do with Becky’s assault?”
Lyle ignored Ed. “Becky, we’ve heard there’s a rumor around town that you’ve been seeing Shaun Reid. We’d like to know if there’s any truth to it, and if there’s anything more you’d like to tell us about when you were attacked.”
“Randy Schoof attacked me.” Becky spoke slowly, enunciating the words carefully. “When I wouldn’ give him the camera. I don’ know Shaun Reid personally.”
“You heard her. Now get out and arrest this Schoof before I-”
Russ raised one hand. “Ed, you really, really don’t want to be making threats in front of two peace officers.”
Suzanne stepped forward for the first time, laying her hand lightly on her daughter’s shoulder. “Please. Find the man who did this.” She looked at Russ, then Lyle. “Please.”
Lyle glanced at Russ again and saw something there Clare wasn’t privy to. The deputy chief nodded. “We will, Suzanne. You all take care. I’ll let you know as soon as we have more information.” He slipped past Russ and vanished into the hall.
“Ed,” Russ said. The older man scowled at him. “I’m sorry.”
Ed waved him off. “Words are cheap. Show me by bringing in that punk Randy Schoof.”