Читать книгу Blown Away - Sharon Sala - Страница 8

Every fear Lance had of facing Cari and her parents came to a halt as he drove up on the scene of devastation.

“Oh my God,” he gasped, as he stomped the brake and killed the engine. The urgency of his situation had suddenly changed.

Every structure on the North property was gone.

The house, the barn, even the corrals.

A tree had fallen over on Frank and Maggie’s vehicle, and Cari’s car was upside down in the pasture beyond. He could see the dead carcasses of some of Frank’s cattle, but most of the wreckage the storm had left behind was impossible to identify.

He jumped out of the truck and started toward the debris with his heart in his throat. Would there be survivors? If he found them, how would he be able to tell if Cari had already told them what she’d seen? If they were alive, what was he going to do? Finish them off—or get them to a doctor?

“Hello! Hello! Can anybody hear me?” he yelled, as he frantically started his search. “Mrs. North…Maggie…it’s me, Lance! Can you hear me?”

Something shifted in the debris off to his right, then fell with a thud. He jumped, then ran in that direction, thinking someone might be trying to get his attention. But when he got there, his search was futile. No bodies. No survivors.

“Frank! Frank! It’s me, Lance. Can you hear me? Are you here?”

His anxiety level was rising as he dashed throughout the rubble. He stumbled over a pile of lumber and shattered drywall, then pulled up short. The leg and shoe sticking out from beneath the rubble were horribly familiar.

“Maggie! Oh my God… Maggie!” he cried, and dropped to his knees.

When he got the debris away and saw her face, frozen in a death mask of terror, he rocked back on his heels. The first thing that went through his mind was the molasses cookies she used to bake for him. His eyes filled with tears. If Cari had already told her, it no longer mattered. Finding her dead meant that was one decision he wouldn’t have to make.

He backed away quickly, then stood up, brushing at the mud on his knees as he sidestepped an upturned sofa and more drywall. A few moments later, he found Frank.

“Oh, Jesus,” he whispered, then quickly looked away.

He found the family dog within moments of finding Frank, but still no Cari. Just as he was beginning to fear that she hadn’t come home after all but was probably already in Bordelaise and talking to the authorities, he saw her.

It was the dark green, all-weather coat she’d been wearing that caught his eye. From this distance, he could tell she wasn’t moving, but she wasn’t lying in the midst of any debris. What if she was still alive? Could he finish her off and lay the blame on the twister?

His fingers curled into fists. His belly knotted. This was turning into the worst day of his life. He genuinely cared for all of the Norths, but especially Cari. That his life had come down to this was sickening.

He took a deep breath and then started forward. His legs were shaking; his vision blurred. Then he saw her face—or what was left of it—and froze. Still a good fifteen yards away, he dropped to his knees again, this time weeping from the relief of knowing he’d just been given a second chance. The only witness to the fact that he’d committed murder was dead.

After he pulled himself together enough to walk, he stumbled back to his truck and grabbed the cell phone from the seat. He tried to call the parish police but couldn’t get a signal. It occurred to him then that the North property might not be the only scene of disaster.

Still shaking, he crawled up into the truck seat and started the engine. When he pulled back onto the main road and turned toward Bordelaise to notify the authorities about what he’d found, he had to remind himself that it was grief he would be expressing and not relief.

Cari drove the thirty miles from the family farm to Baton Rouge on autopilot. She had to stop twice to vomit and guessed she was probably concussed. The blood had dried on her clothes and in her hair, and the palms of her hands were beginning to swell from the splinters under the skin. She could only imagine what she looked like, but she couldn’t let that stop her. Getting to safety, then getting medical attention, was paramount. She wouldn’t let herself think of what she’d left behind—or that the bodies of her loved ones were lying exposed to the elements. They were beyond help and would have been the first to understand. If she was going to save herself, she needed to get well.

There was money in Susan’s purse on the seat beside her. Inside were her driver’s license, and insurance and credit cards, as well as a card stating her blood type, which they also shared. Cari should be able to get in and out of a hospital emergency room without complications. The fact that her claims would technically be fraudulent was nothing compared to being tracked down and killed to hide a murder.

When she finally reached the city limits of Baton Rouge, her hands were shaking so hard she could barely hold on to the steering wheel. She didn’t see the shocked expressions on the faces of other drivers as they passed her, or of the people at the crosswalks as she stopped for lights. She was too focused on not passing out and keeping the car in the proper lane.

She glanced up at a street sign as she braked for another red light. The words kept blurring and running together, but if she wasn’t mistaken, the hospital was just a couple of blocks down on her right. She turned on her signal. Just as the light went green, she felt herself fading.

“God, help me,” she whispered, and jammed the shift into Park just before she passed out.

“Susan! Susan Blackwell! Can you hear me? Open your eyes, Susan. You’re in a hospital.”

Cari moaned. Someone was yelling. Didn’t they know enough to speak softer? Her head was killing her.

She could feel someone taking off her clothes, which didn’t make sense. It wasn’t time for bed.

“Susan? You’re in a hospital. My name is Dr. Samuels. Can you tell me what happened to you?”

Images moved through Cari’s mind in disjointed flashes. Something red on the leaves on the forest floor. Wind whipping through the trees. Panic! Why panic? Running. The sky turning dark. Mother screaming. Oh Lord. Oh Lord. They’re gone.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, then heard a woman’s voice near her ear. “Susan, my name is Amy Niehues. I’m a nurse. Do you hurt anywhere besides your head? How did you get all these splinters in your hands?”

Cari inhaled slowly. Everything hurt, but she couldn’t wrap her mind around the words long enough to answer before she lost consciousness again. The next time she came to, she was aware enough to realize she was in a hospital. A momentary swell of relief rushed through her. She’d made it. She was safe. On the heels of that emotion came the memory of what had happened. The tornado. Her family. Everyone gone.

Breath caught in the back of her throat. She would never hear their voices again. Never feel their arms around her. Never laugh with them. Never have her father walk her down the aisle. She might be a grown woman, but she’d just been orphaned.

Tears welled. A sob burned at the back of her throat. She covered her face with her hands, but the images from the storm were seared into her brain. What started out as a simple sigh of defeat turned into a scream. And once she started screaming, it didn’t feel like she could stop.

Amy Niehues came running, as did several of her coworkers. Cari’s room quickly filled as they began frantically trying to find the source of her discomfort. They kept asking her if she was in pain. They didn’t know, and Cari couldn’t tell them, that the pain wasn’t fixable. There were no pills or treatments that would make what she was feeling go away. She didn’t notice when Amy shot a sedative into her IV, but in a few minutes she closed her eyes and the room fell silent.

A doctor stood at the foot of her bed, studying her chart. He looked at her, then over to the nurse beside him.

“Amy…has anyone been able to locate her parents?”

“They’ve been dead for several years.”

“What about extended family?”

“We’re not sure,” Amy said. “Someone contacted her place of employment, and we’re just waiting for someone to get back to us.”

The doctor handed the chart back to the nurse, gave Cari one last glance, then left the room.

Mike Boudreaux was in his office, pacing between the windows and his desk as he spoke to his assistant on the other end of the line.

“It doesn’t matter, Kelly. You tell them they have the only offer they’re going to get. They can either accept it—and me—or lose it all. I’m not the one who ran that company into the ground, and I’m also not the one who embezzled the entire company retirement fund. I said they could keep all the employees on the present payroll, but…the CEO is out. He didn’t know how to keep his own company safe from the accountant who embezzled all their money and ran with it. What happens to him is the state of Ohio’s problem, but no way in hell am I putting his boss in charge of a company I own.”

“Yes, boss. I’ll make sure they understand that.”

“See that you do,” Mike said, then frowned when he heard his housekeeper’s footsteps coming down the hall. She was running, and Songee Wister never ran.

Songee burst into his office carrying the house phone. He could tell from the look on her face that something was wrong.

“There’s a nurse asking for you,” she cried, as she thrust it in his hands. “Something has happened to Miss Susan.”

Mike’s heart sank as he put the phone to his ear. Susan wasn’t just an employee, she was his personal assistant, as well as a very good friend.

“Hello. This is Mike Boudreaux.”

“My name is Loretta Sawyer. I’m the public liaison at Baton Rouge General Hospital. Do you have an employee by the name of Susan Blackwell?”

“Yes, she’s my personal assistant,” he said. “What’s happened to her? Is she all right?”

“We’re not sure,” Loretta said. “She’s injured, as if she’s been in some kind of accident, although the paramedics who brought her in said there was nothing wrong with her car. It’s possible she has been the victim of a crime, but at this point, we just don’t know. We’re calling you because she has you listed as her emergency contact.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll be right there,” Mike said, then realized he didn’t know which location. “Wait! Are you calling from Mid-City hospital, or the Bluebonnet location?”

“Bluebonnet, on Picardy Street,” she said.

“Okay, thanks,” Mike said, and disconnected. He was already running toward the hall to get his car keys when Songee met him at the door.

“Your keys,” she said, as he handed her the phone.

“Thank you, Songee. As always, you’re a step ahead of me.”

“Is Susan all right?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ll call when I know something. In the meantime, it wouldn’t hurt to send up one of your prayers.”

“Yes, sir,” Songee said. “I’ll make it a powerful one…just in case.”

She stood and watched until the taillights of his car disappeared down the driveway, then went back inside with praying on her mind.

Physical pain brought a rude awakening. Every heartbeat throbbed throughout her body. Her hands were stiff and bandaged, and for a moment she couldn’t remember why. Then the memories flooded back…ugly, mind-numbing memories. Struck again with overwhelming sorrow, tears were already brimming as she opened her eyes.

Then she gasped.

A stranger—a man with dark hair and angry green eyes—was leaning over her bed. His voice was soft, his words accusing.

“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but you’re not Susan Blackwell. Talk now, or I’m calling the police.”

Cari’s stomach knotted as panic shot through her. She couldn’t be outed—not like this. Not—yet.

“You don’t understand,” she mumbled, and grabbed at his wrist. “Susan and I are cousins. I needed to—”

She heard a swiftly indrawn breath, then the man quickly stepped back. The anger on his face slowly shifted to understanding. He put a hand on her arm, as if to steady her.

“Carolina? Is your name Carolina?”

Cari shuddered on a sob as the tension eased.

“Yes, but how did you—”

“I’m Michael Boudreaux, Susan’s boss…and friend. The hospital called me when you were brought in. Susan always said you two looked alike, although it’s hard to tell beneath the bruises and bandages.”

“Oh, thank God,” Cari said. She’d heard Susan talk about him for so long that her panic shifted to hope. Maybe he could help.

Mike frowned.

“What happened, Carolina?”

“Cari…please.”

“Cari it is. Why the deceit? Why did you enter the hospital under Susan’s name?”

Cari’s eyes welled again, but this time, tears rolled. She hadn’t planned on telling on herself quite this soon, but Mike Boudreaux’s unexpected appearance gave her no choice.

The moment Mike saw the tears, he knew the answer wasn’t going to be good.

“Susan’s dead. My mother and father are dead. The storm…there was a tornado at our farm.”

“Sweet Jesus,” Mike muttered, then turned away, overcome by shock.

For a few moments all Cari saw was the stiff set of his shoulders. Panic swept through her. What was he going to do? Would he out her to the world before she had time to protect herself?

Then, all of a sudden, he turned back. His eyes were wet with tears, but his voice was steady as he lightly touched her shoulder and asked, “Is that what happened to you?”

She nodded, then wished she hadn’t, because the motion made her sick.

Mike frowned. This wasn’t making sense. “How did you get here? Why didn’t you go to Bordelaise for medical treatment? That’s where you live, right?”

Cari couldn’t stop crying. Every time she tried to answer, the words seemed to swell and choke at the back of her throat.

Mike sighed. Obviously this wasn’t a good time to push. But something was off. Unless…

“I think I understand,” Mike said. “I was told you were found unconscious at a stoplight in Baton Rouge. You were driving Susan’s car. Her stuff was in it. They assumed you were her, right? Don’t worry. I’ll straighten all this out for you.”

When he moved, Cari grabbed his wrist, then winced at the pain in her bandaged palms. “No! Don’t!” she cried. “You don’t understand.” She swiped at her tears with the edge of her sheet, then took a breath, trying to calm her thoughts. “Just before the storm hit, I walked up on a neighbor in our woods. He was…he was…oh God…just saying it aloud makes no sense.”

“What was he doing?” Mike persisted.

“Digging a grave to bury the dead man wrapped up in the rug beside him.”

“What the hell? You witnessed a murder?”

“Not the actual murder. Just the disposal of the body. He started running after me. I lost my phone while I was trying to get away. I just needed to get home. The tornado hit just as I reached the house. I lived through it. My family didn’t. It wasn’t until I found Susan’s body…her injuries were mainly to her…” Cari shuddered, then covered her face with her hands. “Oh God, oh God…to her face.” She shivered, then made herself continue. “I knew I had to hide until I figured out what to do, so I put my coat on Susan’s body, knowing she would be identified as me, and ran.”

Mike swallowed past the knot in his throat. Susan Blackwell had worked for him for seven years. He adored her and depended on her—as a friend and as his personal assistant. To know her life had ended like this was devastating. But his sorrow was obviously not on the same level as Carolina North’s losses.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, and then turned away and walked toward the windows overlooking the parking lot to gather his own emotions.

Cari’s head was pounding. All of a sudden, she knew she was going to be sick—again.

“Mr. Boudreaux… Mike! I think I’m going to throw up,” Cari said.

Mike spun and rushed to her side, grabbing the wastebasket and holding it up at the side of the bed as Cari leaned over. She didn’t feel his hand on her back or see the empathy on his face. All she knew was that by the time she’d finished, her nurse was in the room, waiting with a fresh washcloth to wash her face.

Cari fell back onto the pillow with a groan. “Oh my God, I am so sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. You’re fortunate to still be alive,” Mike said.

The nurse checked Cari’s IV flow, eyed Mike curiously, then left to get something for Cari’s nausea.

Once again, Cari and Mike were alone. He spooned a couple of ice chips into her mouth, then waited for her to chew them. When he thought she could handle the questions, he started talking again.

“Why didn’t you go straight to the Bordelaise authorities?”

“And say what? That I saw my neighbor burying a body in the woods?”

“You knew the man?” Mike asked.

“Unfortunately, yes. Lance Morgan. I grew up with him…. His family’s land joins ours on two sides. Lance is a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them. There’s no way he buried that body there. Not after I saw him. When I realized he wasn’t still chasing me, I knew he’d gone back to move it. He would have buried it somewhere else. By the time I would have gotten to the authorities, it would be my word against his, and I’ve got a big hole in my head. He’d just claim my story was nothing more than a hallucination from the injury. His parents are dead, but he comes from an old and prominent family. Mine has been around almost as long, but it would just be my word against his. I didn’t recognize the dead man, which means he wasn’t a local, which means no missing person case to back up my claim. In fact, given our history, Lance could laugh it off and lay it all on our past.”

“How so?” Mike asked.

“A couple of years ago we were engaged, until I caught him cheating on me. I called it off. He could claim I was just trying to get back at him for what he did to me.”

“Oh.”

Cari grimaced. “‘Oh’ is right. But it wasn’t until after the tornado when I found Susan that…this occurred to me. No one in Bordelaise knew she’d driven down for the night. And her car was the only one that hadn’t been damaged in the tornado. Her face was…” Cari bit her lip, struggling with her composure. “We’re the same size. Same color hair and hairstyle. And we’d both been wearing white T-shirts and jeans. Lance had seen me earlier, so when I put my coat on her body, I did it hoping she’d be identified as me. It might have been the wrong thing to do, but I was hurt and needed time to think. Lance had already killed once. He would have no problem getting rid of the only witness to his crime.”

“What a mess,” Mike muttered.

“You have no idea,” Cari said, then closed her eyes. She didn’t intend to keep them closed, but a combination of meds and exhaustion soon pulled her under.

Mike watched Carolina drifting in and out of consciousness, and was surprised by the strong connection he felt. Maybe it was because she looked so much like Susan. And maybe it was because of the courage and ingenuity she’d shown in such a dangerous situation.

Courage was something he admired.

Over the years, Michael Boudreaux had become a force to be reckoned with in business, but in his youth, he’d been just another kid on the streets of Baton Rouge. His grandparents had still been alive, clinging to former glory in their old plantation house outside of the city, while his mother and father held regular jobs. His father had worked for a manufacturing company, while his mother had been a pre-school teacher. As the “pretty boy” in his classes, he’d often had to prove his worth with his fists. As a result, he learned the true meaning of courage, and to never be the first one to quit—–at anything.

It was that attitude that made him so formidable in his own career. His parents had died within a year of each other while he was in college. His grandparents had passed a couple of years later. He’d inherited the run-down plantation, as well as the row house in the city where he’d grown up, and now he was completely alone in the world.

When he was twenty-two, he sold the little row house for a tidy sum to a company that needed land to expand, then he invested the money. One thing had led to another, until years passed and he had become known as what some might call a corporate shark. He did what he did without apology, but he did it while maintaining his hometown residency in Baton Rouge.

Mike could have lived an opulent lifestyle in any of the country’s big cities, with limousines and fine dining, and beautiful women at his beck and call, but he’d chosen not to. He was tall and lean, with black hair and green eyes, and a stubborn streak inherited from his Cajun ancestors. And when he’d made his first million dollars, he’d renovated the old Boudreaux plantation outside of Baton Rouge and had lived there ever since. He traveled all over the world when job and duty called, but his roots ran deep in the Louisiana bayous.

For the past few years, Susan Blackwell had been a large part of his life. Now he had to face that she was gone. Sad for himself, and for the woman before him, he laid a hand on her arm.

Cari stirred as she felt his touch. When she opened her eyes, their gazes locked. Hers was unflinching. And in that moment, Mike made a promise.

“I’ll help you through this. I’ll make sure you stay safe.”

Cari sighed, then bit the inside of her lip to keep from crying. “Then you need to start by calling me Susan.”

“Right,” Mike said, then stepped back and shoved his hands in his pockets. “For now, just know I’ve got your back.”

A huge weight had suddenly been lifted from Cari’s shoulders. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do…for Susan,” Mike said, as his voice broke.

Tears welled again, but Cari blinked them away. “For Susan,” she echoed.

At that point the nurse came back and shot a syringe full of something into Cari’s IV. A few minutes later, Cari was out.

But Mike wasn’t sleeping. He’d made a promise, and he didn’t make those lightly. He was already on a mission to find out all he could about Lance Morgan. Finding Morgan’s weakness would be the first step in learning the identity of the man he’d murdered, which would also be the first step in making sure Carolina North stayed alive.

By the time Lance reached Bordelaise, it was obvious the tornado’s damage was widespread. Houses were missing roofs. Trees were down everywhere, as were a large number of power lines. Even a cell phone tower had been twisted into a tangle of wire and metal, probably the reason he’d been unable to reach 911.

Main Street was a melee of cop cars, ambulances and fire trucks from at least half a dozen neighboring communities. It was obvious that the tornado had been on the ground when it came through town. The courthouse and nearby jail had taken direct hits, as had a grocery store, a lawyer’s office and a beauty shop. He didn’t know where to go to notify rescue services about the Norths.

Finally, when he’d driven as far as he could go, he parked, then started walking. Then someone called his name.

“Hey! Lance!”

He turned around. It was Lee Tullius, one of the parish police officers, standing by a panel van. Lance started toward him at a jog.

“Thank God you’re here!” Lee said. “We need some able-bodied volunteers to help move residents from the nursing home into the hospital.”

“I’ll be glad to help,” Lance said. “But I came into town to report three deaths.”

Lee paused, then put down the cots he’d been unloading. “Who and where?”

“Out at the Norths. Frank, Maggie and Cari are all dead. I drove over there right after the storm and…”

His voice broke. He didn’t have to fake the tears in his voice and eyes.

Lee knew Lance and Cari had once been a couple, and that they’d grown up together.

“Well, damn. I’m really sorry to hear that,” he said, then gritted his teeth. “This might sound cruel, but right now, we’re trying to focus on the living.”

“But they’re just…they’re lying out in the open. Birds…animals…just anything could get them.”

Lee sighed, picturing the pretty, dark-haired girl he’d known who’d grown up to become a famous writer, then palmed his radio. “Tullius here. Over.”

Vera Samuels, the daytime dispatcher at the police department, picked up. “Go ahead, Lee. Over.”

“Got a report of three dead bodies at the Frank North farm southeast of Bordelaise. Need them picked up ASAP. Over.”

Vera started to cry. “All of them? Over.”

“Ten-four,” Lee said. “We need the bodies retrieved before the animals get to them. Over.”

“Oh my God…I went to school with Cari,” Vera said, as she struggled to speak through tears.

“So did I,” Lee responded. “Get some people out there, and get them back as fast as possible. I’m afraid they won’t be the only ones. Over.”

“Ten-four and out,” Vera said.

Lee hooked the handheld back onto his belt loop and then looked at Lance.

“Mission accomplished. Now, about the nursing home…”

“Right,” Lance said, and started down the street at a lope.

By the time the last residents of the nursing home had been moved to the hospital, Lance was muddy and sick to his stomach. One old fellow, a man named Warren, had died in his arms on the way out of the building. Because the man was wheelchair-bound, Lance had been forced to pick him up and carry him through the debris-strewn hallways. He hadn’t known the guy was dead until he went to put him down on a gurney outside to be taken to the hospital.

“This one’s gone,” the EMT said.

Lance’s eyes had widened in disbelief. “That’s impossible,” he said. “He was talking to me when I picked him up.”

“Too much stress and strain,” the EMT said. “Don’t worry about it. No one’s going to blame you.”

Maybe not for this one, Lance thought, and once again, accepted his unbelievable luck that Cari North had perished only minutes after walking up on him in the act of hiding a crime. He shook off the shock and nervously swiped his hands down the front of his shirt.

“He was the last one on that wing,” Lance said.

The EMT nodded. “Then he’s the last one period,” he said. “Report back to the town square. It’s where emergency services has set up office. I’m sure someone else could use your help. We also have a missing kid.”

“Oh, no, who?” Lance asked.

“J.R. and Katie Earle’s little boy, Bobby.”

Lance tried to remember what the little boy looked like but couldn’t. All he could do was shake his head as he walked away. On the way back downtown, he tried his cell phone again, as he had been doing off and on, checking to see if they’d restored reception. To his relief, the connection bars finally showed up.

After what had happened, he knew his brother, Joe, who lived in Savannah, would be frantic. He wanted to let him know he was okay, and that Morgan’s Reach had survived the storm. But before he could punch in the number, his phone suddenly rang.

He saw the caller ID and then bit his lip as emotion swamped him. It was Joe. His voice was thick with tears as he answered.

“Joe, I was just about to call you. I’m okay. I’m okay.”

“Thank the Lord,” Joe said. “I’ve been trying to call you for hours.”

“The lines have been down all day. I just now was able to get a connection.”

“Where were you when the tornado hit? Is the house okay? What about the livestock?”

Lance could hardly admit he’d been burying a dead body.

“I was out, but on the property. By the time it passed and I could get home, I was afraid the house had taken a hit. However, we were lucky. It has some damage, but nothing serious. A few missing shingles, barn’s missing a corner of the roof, and there are some windows broken. Otherwise, we were fortunate.”

“Thank goodness,” Joe said. “What about Bordelaise?”

Lance hesitated and took a deep breath. Telling Joe the news was going to be as difficult as finding the Norths’ bodies.

“It got hit pretty bad. A lot of the buildings around the town square are gone or damaged beyond repair. The nursing home was also damaged. The back of the jailhouse was hit. And someone just told me there’s a missing child.”

“Lord, Lord,” Joe whispered. “I can’t believe it!”

“That’s not all,” Lance said.

“What?” Joe asked, the sense that something awful had happened clear in his voice.

“The North property took a direct hit. There isn’t a building standing, and… Joe…”

“Yeah?”

“Frank, Maggie and Cari…they’re all gone.”

“What do you mean, gone? As in they weren’t there when it happened?”

“No, Joe. They’re dead.”

There was a long moment of what was probably stunned silence, then Lance could hear Joe crying.

“It’s awful, Joe. I was the one who found them.”

“Oh, Lance…I’m so, so sorry,” Joe said. “I’ll get the first flight out and be there as soon as possible. Don’t worry. Whatever happens, we’ll get through this together, just like we did when Mom and Dad died.”

“Thanks, Joe. If I’m not home when you get here, I’ll be in Bordelaise. They need all the help they can get.”

“Take care of yourself,” Joe said. “You’re all I’ve got.”

The line went dead in Lance’s ear. He dropped his cell phone in his pocket, then swiped at the tears on his cheeks. There was still so much to be done before the world stopped spinning.