Linwood Barclay - Parting Shot

“Then, when Craig was... when he was attacked, and the aftermath... When Craig finally came home from the hospital, Brendan couldn’t even go into his room, couldn’t bear to see him, the way he was. He couldn’t look at him. I don’t think it was shame by that point. He just couldn’t bear to see his son that way. I made him... I made him go up.”

“What do you mean?”

“Aren’t you going to have a scone?” she asked.

“Of course.” Duckworth reached for one, buttered it, then scooped out some strawberry jam the woman had put out and dropped it onto the scone.

Ruth smiled sadly. “I always used to love to watch a man eat.”

Duckworth took a bite. “Wow. That’s fanatastic. It’s still hot. The butter’s melting.”

Her smile faded. “But it’s hard to watch Craig have his dinner. I mean, there was so much damage.”

They were both quiet for a moment. Duckworth waited for Ruth Pierce to finish her story.

“So I said to my husband, he’s your son. You can’t stay out of his room forever. He needs you, I told him. I’d made Craig some lunch. Tomato soup with crackers. He’s loved tomato soup ever since he was three years old. He can make the crackers soft by putting them in the soup. That makes it easier for him. I said to Brendan, take your son his soup.”

Ruth Pierce took a breath before continuing.

“And he finally said okay, he would do it. He took the tray and he went up the stairs so slow. I stood at the bottom and waited. I heard him go into Craig’s room. I asked Craig later what his father said, and apparently he said nothing. Brendan came back down the stairs, and when he got to the bottom... he just collapsed.”

Duckworth stopped chewing his scone.

“What was it?” he asked.

“They said it was a massive heart attack. They said he was gone before he hit the floor.” She looked at the detective with damp eyes. “I killed him. I killed my Brendan.”

“No.”

“I shouldn’t have made him go up. I shouldn’t have let him see how bad his son looked. Not until he was ready. He needed to do it in his own time. It wasn’t a heart attack, you know. It was a broken heart. That’s what it was. His heart was so broken he couldn’t continue.”

Duckworth reached across the table for the woman’s hand and held it. “How long ago was this?”

“Five weeks,” she said.

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Duckworth said.

“Oh my gosh, I forgot your coffee.”

She jumped up from the table, filled a mug, and put it on the table in front of him.

“Do you have any help?” he asked. “Other children, extended family?”

Ruth shook her head. “Just me.” She wrung her hands. “I’m not quite sure what we’re going to do. I’ve had to quit my job to look after Craig. There’s some insurance money from Brendan’s policy, but it won’t last long. And then there’s all the reconstructive surgery that Craig needs. I don’t know how I’m going to manage that. He did qualify for some therapy, to help him, you know, psychologically, with what’s happened to him.”

She glanced at the wall clock. “In fact, she’s due here pretty soon. But the surgery he needs — plastic surgery, other things — would cost a fortune. They have these things on the Internet, I think they call them crowd-funding? Where you ask people to donate a little money? And if enough do, then you can do whatever it is you need to do. But no one’s going to donate to help Craig.” She dug a tissue out of her sleeve and dabbed her eye. “No one cares. People think he got what he deserved.”

Duckworth took a sip of his coffee and another bite of his scone.

“Are you here because you caught them?” she asked. “Did you catch the people who did this to him?”

He shook his head. “No.”

Her shoulders sagged. “I figured as much. You know, I like you, Detective Duckworth, I do. I think you’re a very nice man. But I can’t help but think that the police really aren’t trying that hard, you know? That they think Craig got what was coming to him too.”

“That’s not true,” he said.

“Then what have you been doing? It’s been three months. I heard you found out who owned that monstrous dog.”

“Yes,” Duckworth said. “But the dog had been stolen. We don’t think the owner had anything to do with your son’s assault.”

“No one saw anything?”

“It was the middle of the night.” Duckworth grimaced. The park next to the falls the town was named for was getting something of a reputation for horrific crimes.

“If you don’t know anything, then what point is there in talking to Craig? He upsets very easily.”

Duckworth hesitated. “There’s been another incident.”

“Oh dear me.”

He raised a palm. “Not as serious as what happened to Craig. And it may not be related. But I’d like to speak with your son just the same. Maybe, since the last time we spoke, he’s remembered something else.”

Ruth Pierce nodded resignedly. “All right, then. If you have to do it, you have to do it.”

“I want to thank you for the scone. I really shouldn’t have had it, but it was irresistible. The coffee, too.”

“It’s nice to have someone to talk to.”

“Do you get out?” he asked her.

“Oh, yes. I mean, Craig can be left home alone. And sometimes I take him for drives. He likes to go for drives. If we’re out in the daytime, he’ll wear something on his head, so people can’t see him. He’s even been going out some on his own, but only late at night, when no one can see him and he doesn’t have to cover himself up. But I worry when he does that. If he has an accident or something, what will people think when they see him? When he’s with me, I can sort of run interference. You know what I mean?”

“Sure,” said Duckworth.

Given that Pierce was known to be a sex offender — although not an actual convicted one — Duckworth pondered the wisdom of him going out at night on his own. Although he didn’t quite pose the threat he might once have.

“The best news is, he’s feeling a little more confident,” Ruth said. “He’s getting interested in things again, like hobbies. He’s been ordering little gadgets off the Internet.”

Duckworth stood and waited for Ruth to get to her feet.

“I’ll try not to be too long,” he said as he started to leave the kitchen.

The woman reached out and gently took his arm.

“There’s something you need to know before you see him.”

“What’s that?”

“First of all, he’s gotten a little... I don’t want to say crazy. But considering everything, he sometimes becomes quite... irreverent.”

“And what else?”

She let out a long breath.

“The last of the bandages have come off.”

The Gaffneys were frantic.

All evidence pointed to the fact that Brian had walked right out of the hospital. A nurse was pretty sure she had seen him pass her station in his clothes, but Albert wanted them to be sure his son had not been transferred to some other part of the building or possibly sent to a lab or something for further tests.

Hospital security guards were called, and a search of Promise Falls General was initiated.

Albert was not only hoping they’d find Brian quickly, but that they would find him before Constance came back.

Things did not work out the way he’d hoped.

When Constance returned to the ER with Monica trailing after her, she spotted her husband standing in a hallway and said, “How is he? How’s Brian?”

“I don’t... I don’t know where he is right now,” he admitted.

“What’s going on? Have they moved him to a proper room?”