Читать книгу Cold Case Justice - Sharon Dunn - Страница 10

ONE

Rochelle Miller stopped dead in her tracks when she spotted Elwood Corben across the wide corridor of the courthouse where she worked. She took in a deep breath to clear her head as her anxiety level skyrocketed. Why, after ten years, had the man she’d fled Seattle over shown up in Montana? It couldn’t be coincidence. Elwood Corben had hunted her down. But why now, after all this time?

Elwood was speaking to a police officer, their heads bent close together in a very cozy way. She thought to slip into a room before he saw her, but fear paralyzed her. Elwood caught her staring, grinned at her and walked across the corridor. Each of his footsteps seemed to crush her further into the floor.

His face was all teeth and narrow snakelike eyes. His dyed hair couldn’t hide that he was a man past sixty. “Megan, how good to see you.”

Even changing her first and last name hadn’t kept him away. He must have hired a detective to find her. She’d thought she’d been careful in covering her tracks, but she’d been only sixteen when she’d run from him and hadn’t had the resources or know-how to do a thorough job in changing her identity.

Rochelle laced her fingers together to hide how badly they were shaking. Though Elwood Corben wouldn’t harm her with all these people around, she’d picked up on the threat beneath his words. Only she knew the truth about Elwood Corben—that he was a cold-blooded murderer.

She squared her shoulders and purged her voice of the terror raging inside her. “I have to go to work.” She hurried toward a courtroom that she knew had just adjourned. She slipped into the milling crowd and headed toward a side exit. When she looked over her shoulder, she couldn’t see Elwood among the throng of people. Working her way through the labyrinth of the courthouse, she took a circuitous route to the side street where her car was parked. The winter cold chilled her skin as she got into her car. She hadn’t had time to get her coat or her purse, but was glad she had shoved her keys into her pants pocket. Her heart raced as she slipped in behind the wheel and started the car.

Her only clear thought was of her nine-year-old son, Jamie.

When she pulled out, Rochelle checked her rearview mirror to make sure she wasn’t being followed. She tried to formulate a plan as she drew closer to Jamie’s school. Corben knew where she worked, but maybe he didn’t know where she lived. Why else would he have come to the courthouse instead of her home? She’d hidden away cash at her house in case this day ever came. First she’d get Jamie and then the money. Rochelle feathered the brake as she turned a corner onto a busy street, knowing she needed to slow down or she’d end up on the sidewalk.

She wove through the heavy traffic. Her car fishtailed on the icy road. A horn honked. She gripped the wheel a little tighter. For sure, Corben didn’t know about Jamie, and he wasn’t going to find out. Yet another reason to get out of town quickly and not go to the police. If she lingered here in Discovery, even if the police could protect her, Corben would find out he had a grandson. She couldn’t take that chance. Elwood wasn’t capable of loving family members. She knew that all too well.

Rochelle tensed as the images from ten years ago assaulted her mind.

She’d only been sixteen when she’d fallen in love with Corben’s son Dylan. Though Elwood Corben walked around with a smoldering rage, she hadn’t understood the extent to which he was involved in illegal activity until she heard Dylan arguing with his father one night. Dylan insisted he was not going be a part of the family’s import/export business because his father often operated outside the law.

She’d come to the balcony of Elwood’s house and listened to the heated discussion.

Dylan’s voice held conviction. “I want a legitimate life, Dad. I want to marry Megan.”

The silence that followed caused her to hold her breath. From her vantage point she saw only Dylan’s back and part of Elwood’s arms and upper body.

“You are my son and you will do what I say.”

The barely contained rage in Elwood’s words made her shiver. She saw Elwood’s fist swing out and strike Dylan, who crumpled to the floor after hitting his head on the counter. She could have viewed Dylan’s fall as an accident brought on by Elwood’s out-of-control anger, for Elwood hadn’t known Dylan would hit his head. But as she watched Elwood stare down at his son and do nothing, she saw him for the murderer he was.

Blood spread across the tile. In the moment that life left Dylan’s body, something died inside her, too. Though she’d been in rebellion from her Christian upbringing when she met Dylan, she had loved him.

She must have screamed, because Elwood stomped across the tile and glared up at her where she stood on the stairs. Murder glistened in his eyes. “What did you see?”

She shook her head, unable to stop staring at Dylan lying motionless on the floor. Knowing that Elwood intended to kill her for what she’d witnessed, she’d fled from the house. He’d caught up with her before she could get to the police station, threatened her life and her family’s. She’d managed to escape his grasp and taken the first bus out of town. Two days later, when she’d made it to Discovery, she found out she was pregnant. Up until that point, she had intended to go back and talk to the police. Once Jamie was born, though, she knew she had to protect him from Elwood ever finding out he existed. Elwood would hardly be the doting grandfather. If Dylan had been any indication at all, Elwood sought only to control family. When he couldn’t control, he killed. She couldn’t risk Jamie being a party to that.

Not wanting her family to be harmed or Corben strong-arming them into saying where she was, she’d cut off contact with them, as well.

Rochelle stared through the windshield at the icy road as her heart pounded out a wild rhythm. Her arm muscles tensed as she gripped the wheel. She was less than two minutes away from Jamie’s school. She pressed the accelerator and swerved around a slow-moving car.

The car that hit her came out of nowhere. She didn’t even have time to touch the brake before she heard the crunching of metal. Her body swung back and then forward. Glass sprayed across her field of vision.

As her world went black, all she could think about was holding her nine-year-old son and making sure he was safe.

* * *

Paramedic Matthew Stewart felt a tightening in his stomach as the sirens of the ambulance he was driving wailed. He maneuvered around the stopped traffic.

His partner, Daniel, leaned forward in the passenger seat as they got closer to the scene of the accident. “This doesn’t look good.”

Up ahead, Matthew could see that a truck with a dented passenger-side door had been pulled to the side of the road. A compact car with a crumpled front end sat in the middle of the street.

His neck muscles tensed.

This was the first serious call he’d been out on since Christina Johnson’s suicide, and his adrenaline was mixing with his anxiety. A neighbor had phoned that he’d found Christina unconscious with a broken ankle. When she came to, she said she’d fainted and twisted her ankle when she fell. The ER doctors had signed off on her after they patched her up. But Matthew’s instinct had told him something more was going on. Yet, he’d done nothing about it. Christina hadn’t acted like a suicidal woman. No one thought to question her fainting story. A week later, they were called back to her house. This time, she’d taken enough pills to kill an elephant, not just pass out and fall down. He couldn’t sleep at night because he kept going over and over in his head why he hadn’t trusted his gut, and he vowed next time he would.

As the crowd of gawkers parted, he killed the siren and parked the ambulance. He pushed open the door and grabbed the C-collar and the backboard from the back bay. An older man ran up to him.

“The guy in the truck is okay.” The man pointed at a twenty-something man who was rubbing his neck. “The woman is in real bad shape, though.” The older man indicated the compact car.

Daniel patted Matthew’s shoulder. “I’ll have a look at him and then come help you.”

Matthew drew his attention toward the car in the middle of the street. The front end had been completely pushed in and the windshield had been smashed. He couldn’t tell the condition of the driver from this far away. In the distance, he heard the sound of the police sirens headed toward them.

As he stepped toward the car, he saw the woman’s head rested against the driver’s-side window. He opened the door slowly and began his assessment. Despite the winter chill, she wasn’t wearing a coat and her eyes were open but unfocused. Blood dripped from the gash on her forehead. She was pretty, probably in her late twenties. She looked vaguely familiar to him.

He knelt and spoke softly. “Ma’am, you’ve been in an accident.”

She shook her head. The glazed eyes told him she still wasn’t tracking with him. “I have to get to the school...for my son. Please...I have...to leave town.”

Why was she thinking about leaving town? Not a normal response for an accident victim. She wasn’t making much sense. She might have a head injury. “Ma’am, can you tell me what day it is?”

She met his gaze. A light came into her eyes. “Do I know you?”

He studied her more closely. “I think we might be neighbors. Do you live on B Street?” He’d seen her playing in the yard with her son and getting in her car in the morning dressed in a business suit. He’d talked to the kid a couple of times and knew his name was Jamie.

“Yes, just up the street from you.” She nodded. Pain shot across her expression, compressing her features. She moaned. “My arm.”

He touched her shoulder. “Please don’t try to move. My partner and I are going to put you on a backboard and get a collar around you to prevent any additional injury to your spine.”

“I don’t need to go to the hospital.” Her voice filled with panic. “I can’t. Please, I have to get my son.” She arched her back and closed her eyes, probably trying to shut out the pain.

Even without a close exam, he knew her injuries were extensive. Though she was free to refuse medical attention, she clearly needed it. He didn’t want a repeat of what had happened with Christina Johnson. He had to convince her.

“What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Rochelle.”

“Rochelle, I’m Matthew. I can appreciate that you are concerned about your son. We’ll make arrangements for you to call a friend to pick him up. But right now, my priority is to get you to a hospital.”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand.” She swung out of the car seat and attempted to push herself to her feet. He caught her before she collapsed to the ground. Her eyes opened briefly and then she became a rag doll in his arms.

“I got it,” said Daniel as he ran toward them, grabbing Rochelle’s legs and helping Matthew transfer her to the board.

She stirred only slightly when they strapped her to the backboard and put the collar around her neck. The crowd dispersed as they loaded her into the ambulance.

“I’m going to ride in back with her,” said Matthew.

While Daniel moved into the flow of traffic, Matthew started an IV. They passed a tow truck headed in the opposite direction. Up front, he could hear Daniel calling ahead to alert the hospital of their arrival.

Matthew stared down at the porcelain-skinned brunette. He had said hello to her once or twice when he went for a walk in the evening. His house was a few houses down from hers and on the opposite side of the street. He’d talked to the kid several times. He felt a connection to the boy when he’d seen him in the yard trying to learn how to throw a football. Matthew’s father had left the family when he was seven. No one had been there to teach him to throw a football, either.

Her eyes fluttered open briefly. “Jamie.” The note of desperation surprised him. Nothing he said seemed to calm her down.

“I know that’s your son. I’ve talked to him a couple of times. Nice kid.”

She didn’t respond.

“Rochelle, you’ve got glass in the cut on your forehead. I’m going pull it out and put a bandage on you.”

She turned her head to one side, eyes closed. “My arm hurts, and here.” She touched her rib cage.

“I’ve got an IV going for the pain. We’ll have a doctor look at you as soon as we get to the hospital.” He hadn’t seen any sign of external bleeding other than her head, but there was no telling what kind of internal damage she’d sustained.

“I have to go. I have to get out of here. Please.” She wrapped her arm around his bicep and squeezed before her voice faded, and she closed her eyes.

What was going on in her life that she could not let go of the idea that she had to leave? He hoped the kid was okay and that her worry was being fueled by the trauma of the accident. He found tweezers and carefully picked out the pieces of glass. She winced each time. He disinfected the wound and placed a bandage over the gash.

She looked up at him with wide brown eyes. He locked into her gaze for a moment. Though he had only seen her at a distance, he’d always thought she was pretty. She turned her head to the side and closed her eyes. “I have to call someone to go get Jamie.” Fear lanced through her words.

At least she seemed to be tracking with reality and had given up the idea that she had to get her son. He studied her for a moment wondering exactly what her story was. His concern for the kid’s safety heightened.

The ambulance pulled up to the ER doors. The trauma team met them outside with a gurney.

As they were wheeling Rochelle inside, Matthew tapped the nurse’s shoulder. “Marie, when this woman is stabilized, can you make sure she has access to a phone? She’s concerned about her son and needs to make arrangements for him to be picked up. I’m not sure what’s going on.”

Marie nodded. “We can take care of that.”

He watched them push the gurney down the hall and disappear around a corner. Matthew finished out his shift with only one minor call. With Rochelle and her son still on his mind, he swung by the nurses’ station before leaving for home.

An older, plus-size nurse with brassy hair and pink lipstick sat at the station flipping through a patient chart.

“Lindy, there was a woman brought in from a car accident earlier. Did she get access to a phone?”

Lindy crossed her ample arms. “She did, as per your request, Matthew.”

“How’s she doing?”

“No serious internal damage. She’s got bruised ribs and a fractured arm. They’re keeping her overnight to make sure no latent head injury shows up.” Lindy studied him for a moment. “You don’t usually take this much interest in patients.”

“She’s a neighbor and she was emotionally distraught.” His gut was telling him something more was going on with her. This time, he intended to listen to that instinct. He had to know she was going to be okay before he went home.

Lindy narrowed her eyes at him. “Didn’t your supervisor suggest you take a few days off after that suicide tore you up so bad?”

“Work is the best thing for me.” Honestly, sitting at home wondering what he could have done different to save Christina Johnson would only make things worse.

“You can’t rescue everyone from everything. Sometimes you’ve just got to hang it up once your shift is over,” Lindy said.

“That’s not what’s going on here.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. He wasn’t stepping out of bounds. He just didn’t want another Christina on his hands.

Lindy shrugged. “It’s your call. I’m about to do my rounds. You’re welcome to pop your head in and say hello to her yourself.”

He wouldn’t be at peace to leave work until he saw that Rochelle was okay and that whatever panic she had at the scene had been because of the accident and not something else.

He followed Lindy down the hall. When they stepped into the room, the bed was unmade but empty. Lindy checked the bathroom and then shook her head. “Looks like our patient checked out on her own.” She bustled toward the door. “I’m not sure what recourse we have for getting her back here, but I’ll talk to the doctor. I hope we find her. That woman needs rest and medical supervision. She’s in no condition to be running around.”

Feeling a rising sense of panic, Matthew darted toward the door. “I know the first place to look for her.”