Leann Sweeney - The Cat, the Lady and the Liar

Belinda said, “You sound like a very competent doctor, so don’t take this the wrong way, but the ICU seems so . . . intimidating. Can I just take her home and—”

“Absolutely not,” Dr. Patrick said. “As I said, we’ll be taking more pictures of her brain to make sure there’s no slow bleeding in there. This is the safest place for her right now. We treat our peace officers with the special care they deserve.”

“Don’t forget she was attacked, Belinda,” Kara said. “As far as I know, they haven’t caught who did this. She needs to be here.”

“I know you’re right. It’s just that—” Belinda’s tears started again, and I put my arm around her shoulders.

“I will see you in the morning for an update, Mrs. Carson. Right now, I have to inform all the others waiting to hear about her condition,” the doctor said. I had the feeling that tears and this man did not mix, because he hurried off down the hall like a cat with its tail on fire.

While I waited with Belinda, who was told by the woman at the desk that it would be about thirty minutes before she could see Candace, Kara went back to where all the others were waiting. She might hear or learn something that she could add to the article I was sure would appear in tomorrow’s paper. The next half hour passed much more quickly thanks to the good news we’d heard. Belinda was soon her old chatty self and said that she told Candace not to give up her vacation because of a murder—that she wouldn’t have been in that parking lot if she’d listened. At last she was ushered into the ICU while I waited for her.

Belinda’s time with her daughter must have been great, because she wore a broad smile when she came back out through the double doors. “Candace is awake and cranky. That’s my girl,” she said.

“Does she remember what happened?” I asked.

“I didn’t ask. I’ll leave that to you. Right now, I need a Coca-Cola. Do you want one?” When I refused, she started off down the hall.

Meanwhile, Kara and Tom came by. Tom took a spot beside me, and Kara said she had to get her story to the paper as quickly as possible. She headed for the elevators after telling me to get word to Candace that she was glad she was awake and talking and probably giving the nurses hell.

I whispered to Tom how I was now officially Candace’s sister—and that meant I could I visit her. Belinda returned with her Coke, and the three of us waited together.

When I was allowed in for my five-minute visit with Candace, I signed a visitor sheet and went inside the ICU accompanied by the woman who sat at the desk. She pointed out Candace’s curtained-off area in the circular room.

I went to her bedside. Her eyes were closed, an IV dripped into a vein, and she had a blood pressure cuff around her upper arm. The machinery behind her bed beeped and displayed numbers and graphs. They made me so nervous; I tried to ignore them. How could patients rest with all this going on? But they were being well cared for, and that was all that mattered.

I sat and took a deep breath, exhaling quietly so as not to wake Candace up. I was content to sit by her side and watch her breathe. But her eyes fluttered open and widened when she saw me.

In a thick voice she said, “I thought you were Mom again and I had to pretend to be too drugged up to talk. Poor thing needs to chill. I’m fine as can be.”

“You got a new hairdo, I see.” I smiled and rested a hand over hers. It was so darn cold in here, and her fingers felt like ice.

“What did they do to my hair?” She started to lift her hand, but I stopped her.

“Check the mirror tomorrow and have a gasp. For now, you need to stay still if you want to get out of here.” I squeezed her frosty fingers.

“Listen, Jillian. I couldn’t ask my mother this because she’d give the guy in that next bed another heart attack by freaking out, but what the hell happened to me?”

I smiled. “Someone bonked you on the head. Good thing you have concerned neighbors. One of them found you and called 911.”

“They catch the jerk?” Her eyes closed, and she almost seemed to be nodding off.

I now understood about the five-minute visiting regulation.

“Not yet. But we will.” To myself, I added, If it’s the last thing any of us do.

Candace laughed the sarcastic laugh I was familiar with. “ ‘Officer down. Officer down.’ I can hear those words spewing out on radios all over the place. What they should have been saying is ‘Idiot officer let someone get the jump on her.’ ”

“Hey, don’t get worked up over something you can do nothing about. You need to chill more than your mom right now. Can I do anything for you before my time is up? You want some of these yummy ice chips I see?”

“I asked for a steak, but that’s all they brought me. But there is something. My notes about the Longworths are in my RAV4—I think. Did I even get out of my car?”

“You must have, because they found you in the parking lot,” I said.

“Anyway, find the notes. Get my keys from the uniform they took off me. Mom says she has it in a bag from the emergency room.”

“You sure you don’t want Mike to take care of this?” I asked.

“No. You get them.” She grinned. “I went to that big old house and talked to the crazy family, but the details are fuzzy.”

“You remember where you were earlier in the day,” I said. “That’s a good sign.”

“I remember ole Chief Mike Baca making a fool of himself over Justine Longworth. She’s gotta be a whole lot older than him. Why does he always pick the wrong woman?”

“Candace, your notebook contains police business. I shouldn’t—”

“I’m with-it enough to know that the chief is gonna shut me down. So I want you to read them. My banged-up brain won’t let me remember.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I hate that.”

“Your brain will be fine and you’ll solve this case. For now—”

“He’ll put me on stupid sick leave. But you can help me stay connected. You and Tom. Yeah. We should get Tom on the case.” She giggled. “Yup. All hands on deck.”

She’d obviously forgotten that Tom was already on the case. If Candace was in her right mind—and she sure wasn’t—she wouldn’t want me reading her notes.

Candace reached through the bars on the side of the bed and gripped my arm. “Bring me the book tomorrow and read it to me. You and Tom want to help old lady Longworth. You believed her when I didn’t. You should know what I know. Or what I don’t know. Or—Jeez, I sound stupid, don’t I?”

“Not at all. I’ll get your notes. I promise.”

But would I give them to Mike or bring them here?

Candace’s mother had been happy to give me the keys to her daughter’s RAV4. “If that’s what my baby wants, then you can have them.”

Tom and I drove to the apartment complex parking lot, now cleared of any police presence. But when Tom opened her vehicle with the remote and the headlights flashed, Mercy police deputy Jerry Raymond jumped from behind a row of shrubs, weapon drawn.

He shouted, “Mercy PD. Hands in the air.” He held his flashlight and gun together, pointed right at our faces. The light was blinding.

We both did as we were told, and Tom said, “Jerry, it’s me and Jillian. Candace wanted to make sure her stuff was safe. See the keys in my hand?” Tom jangled them.

“You scared the living crap out of me, Stewart,” Jerry said.

We lowered our arms.

“Candy’s talking?” Jerry said. “That is some major good news, man.”

“She’s awake and she’ll be fine,” I said. “But she was worried about her evidence kit, stuff like that.”