Читать книгу Forgotten Pieces - Tyler Anne Snell - Страница 11

Chapter Two

It was her college graduation party all over again. Or, rather, the aftermath of it. Maggie’s head was pounding. Worse than the hangover she’d had after her roommate, Barb, had decided bringing cake-flavored vodka was a good idea. While it had been a hit at the time, Maggie had felt like she was the one who had been hit the next day.

Which was how she felt as she sat on a hospital bed, staring at an IV in one arm and a pair of handcuffs around her other wrist. It connected her to the hospital bed and, according to a deputy she didn’t know, had been an order. It was one of many things that had confused her since she’d come to in an ambulance, staring up at a woman asking her what her name was and if she could hear her.

While Maggie knew the hospital staff was doing all they could to make sure she was getting the treatment she needed, they sure as heck hadn’t bothered to fill her in on a few details. Like why she’d wound up in an ambulance to begin with, where she had been before the ambulance had been called and why she was barefoot. That last detail, of all things, irrationally bothered her more than the rest. Because, much like the aftermath of her graduation party, she seemed to be missing a chunk of memory. This time, though, she hadn’t the faintest idea what had prompted it.

A knock sounded on the door before a nurse pushed it open.

“How are you doing, Ms. Carson?”

A redheaded woman with bold lipstick and an easy smile slid into the room. When her gaze went to the handcuffs that smile tightened. Maggie decided to address the obvious.

“I’d really like to not be handcuffed,” she said. “And to not be in the hospital. Neither were on my to-do list today. Or, at least I don’t remember them if they were.”

The nurse gravitated over to the IV.

“The cuffs I can’t help,” she admitted. “But what I can do is ask how your head is feeling. So, Ms. Carson, how is your head?” She met Maggie’s stare. It was a look that was equal parts concerned and authoritative. She was trying to do her job and Maggie was being snarky. She sighed.

“There are few people in this world who ever use my last name and usually it’s when they’re about to yell at me. So, please, call me Maggie. But on the head-hurting front, it’s throbbing. Not as bad as before, but it’s there.”

The nurse looked at Maggie’s chart.

“And you’re still having trouble with recall?”

Maggie nodded. It hurt.

“I’m also having trouble understanding why my head hurts in the first place.” Maggie lowered her voice, trying to convey something she often tried to hide. Vulnerability. “Because no one, and I mean no one, has told me what happened to me since I woke up in an ambulance with my shirt and bra cut open and monitors stuck to my chest. So, please—” Maggie glanced down at the woman’s name tag “—Nurse Bean, give me something.”

For a moment the nurse looked like she was going to shake her head and try to offer another polite smile. Instead, she surprised Maggie by answering.

“To be honest, I just started my shift so I don’t know all of the details. What I do know is that you being knocked out wasn’t an accident.” Her lips thinned. “But as for who did it, why and where... I’m sorry. Those are questions I can’t answer.”

Maggie’s stomach turned cold. She knew she shouldn’t have been surprised that she had been attacked since it wasn’t every day she lost hours of memory, but having a nurse say it aloud was on the surreal side of uncomfortable.

“Well, I guess I’m glad to know I didn’t wind up this way after tripping and bumping my head or anything,” Maggie deadpanned. Sarcasm was her safety blanket. The throbbing from her head now made a fraction of sense. That in itself should have been comforting. But it wasn’t. “Thank you for leveling with me,” she added on. “I don’t want to say I’m scared but, well, it’s not a good feeling to be me right now. Thanks.”

The nurse gave a quick nod and smile of acceptance.

“Like you, I prefer to go by my first name. So call me Kortnie.” She took the chart and started to turn away. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to check on you.”

Maggie was ready to let her go and wait for someone who did know the inside scoop but then the cold steel of the handcuffs against her skin brought her attention to one more question.

“You have to at least know why I’m handcuffed, right?”

Kortnie’s smile faltered.

“That’s a question you should ask Detective Walker.”

* * *

“IS HE GOING to make it?”

Matt roused from the large square tile he’d been standing on for what felt like hours. It was outside Dwayne’s room and was better than standing and staring inside it. Matt didn’t like hospitals. Or, really, he didn’t like the helplessness that came with them. He couldn’t help Dwayne in his current condition. He couldn’t make him heal any faster. He couldn’t make him survive. All he could do was help from where he hovered and tried to puzzle out what had happened the night before. Not that he’d had much success in that department.

The sheriff repeated his question with an added inflection of empathy. He wasn’t as close to the retired detective as Matt but he knew him well enough to grab the occasional drink or watch a football game or two together.

“He’s out of the immediate woods but his injuries are extensive,” Matt answered, dragging a hand down his face. “He still hasn’t woken up and, if I read the doc’s body language correctly, there’s a good chance he might not. Or, if he does, he might not be the same Dwayne we knew. There was some bleeding on the brain.” Billy cursed beneath his breath. Matt let him finish before he continued, “So unless the crime scene yielded some incredible results, our only way of knowing what happened might be down there. And, like I told you on the phone last night, according to her doctor she’s having short-term memory issues.”

He pointed in the direction of Maggie Carson’s room. She’d been transferred out of the ER a few hours ago.

The sheriff followed his finger.

“Have you talked to her yet?” Billy asked.

Matt shook his head. Frustration, anger and more frustration sprang up at just the thought of the woman.

“When we first came in I stuck with Dwayne,” he admitted. “By the time he was stable and put in his room, she was getting CAT scans. Then she was out, thanks to some pain meds. I was going to wait until the morning to talk to her.” Matt really took in the sheriff’s appearance. He couldn’t help but smirk. “And considering there’s applesauce on your blazer, I’m assuming it’s morning.”

Billy looked down at the smudge and sighed but in no way seemed angry.

“What can I say? Alexa and I have a routine. She wakes up early and we negotiate how much applesauce she’s going to eat.” He motioned to the stain. “It’s a messy business. I’ve dealt with seasoned criminals that were easier to crack than this toddler.”

There was pride clear and true in the way Billy spoke of his daughter. It matched his unconditional love for his wife, Mara. Which was one of the reasons so many residents of Riker County took a shine to him. He was a good family man who worked hard to provide and protect. He was the straightest shooter Matt had ever known in law enforcement. Something that had not always been the case for everyone he had employed.

Matt watched as Billy sobered.

“I would tell you that going home to get some sleep might be the best course for you and that I can handle talking to Maggie,” he started. “But—”

“It’s Dwayne that got hurt and I won’t back off yet.”

Billy nodded.

“Then let’s go talk to Maggie.”

They marched down the hallway and knocked on the door. Matt spied the clock on the wall. Hours had indeed passed. It was almost seven in the morning.

“Come in!”

Matt took his attempt at a calming breath and followed the sheriff inside.

If he thought they’d be met with guilt or shame, he was wildly mistaken.

One look at him, and Maggie’s big green eyes got bigger. Her lips didn’t have time to purse. They were too busy parting to yell at him.

“I know you have your issues with me, but this is ridiculous, don’t you think?”

She shook her left arm.

Matt walked to the side of the bed as if he was going to inspect the cuffs. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Considering the nature of what happened, we deemed it necessary.”

Maggie looked like a fish out of water, opening and closing her mouth, trying to find the right words to fight him with, no doubt. Billy, however, stepped in. He closed the door behind them and cleared his throat.

“Let’s calm down and talk,” he said.

“Can we talk about how I’ve been cuffed to a bed for the entire night and no one, until now, has decided to come and talk to me other than doctors?”

Maggie’s cheeks were flushed, Matt noticed. For the first time he realized there was a light dusting of freckles across her nose.

“Yes,” Billy said, channeling the calm that Matt had heard him use throughout their careers. “But first, tell us the last thing you remember.”

Maggie let out a breath of frustration.

“Sneaking off to my couch in the middle of the night because I couldn’t sleep. I channel surfed until I fell asleep in front of the TV.”

Matt shared a look with Billy.

“In the middle of the night,” Billy repeated. “And by night you mean...”

Maggie sighed.

“By night I mean Tuesday night.” She held up her hand in a stopping motion. “And, before you question my sanity, yes, I know that today is Thursday.”

“You’re missing more than twenty-four hours,” Billy spelled out. Maggie nodded. Matt noticed she was more inclined to look at the sheriff with controlled emotions. When she looked at him, he could see the fire burning behind her eyes. Not that he could blame her. The phrase “poking the bear” came to mind. Not that Maggie Carson in any way looked like a bear.

“So you don’t remember your conversation with Detective Walker yesterday?” Billy added on.

Maggie’s eyes widened.

“No?” Her eyebrow rose as she looked at Matt for an explanation.

He didn’t want to give it. He was too frustrated.

“Well, isn’t that convenient?” Matt muttered.

The comment didn’t go unnoticed. Maggie whipped her head around to Billy and then back to Matt.

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? Do you think I’m making this up? Why would I even do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, covering your a—”

“Detective,” Billy interrupted, voice sharp. Matt felt anger surge again. If he was honest, it was misplaced. While he did have issues with Maggie Carson, he had never pegged her for a violent woman. Aggressive with her words, sure. Stubborn to the point where he really had fantasized about arresting her a few times, absolutely. But was she capable of beating a man in his sixties to the point of potential brain damage? No. He felt it in his gut, whether or not he wanted to absolve her of the accusation that she’d done it.

Still, the only witnesses that they knew of were both in the hospital. One might never wake up. The other was claiming memory loss. That was a tough pill to swallow no matter who the two were.

“I’m sure the doctor would be happy to talk to you about it.” Maggie cooled down as she spoke to Billy. “But I would like to know why you thought I would make it up.”

She kept her eyes firmly on Billy. He squared his shoulders.

“What’s your relationship with Dwayne Meyers?”

Matt watched closely as Maggie’s expression turned to confusion. Her eyebrows drew together. She tilted her head ever so slightly to the side.

“I wouldn’t say we have one,” she answered. “I mean, we know each other and I’ve interviewed him before. But other than that I don’t think you could even classify us as friends. Why do you ask?”

“Because I found you at his house,” Matt said.

Again Maggie tilted her head to the side. Like the movement would shake loose a memory that would make the puzzle whole. Then her face lit up.

“Well, then, did he tell you who did this to me?” She motioned to the back of her head where the initial blow that had knocked her unconscious had happened. While waiting for the ambulance Matt had inspected the injury in an attempt to understand the situation a little better. It hadn’t helped. “Unless... Did he do this to me?”

“That’s what we’re trying to piece together,” Billy hedged.

“Why not ask Dwayne?”

Matt took another step forward. He knew Billy was trying to ease the woman into the information to see how she reacted but Matt was tired of it. Tired in general. It was time to cut to the chase.

“Because you weren’t the only one I found,” he started. “Dwayne was beaten badly with, as far as we can guess, a baseball bat. One that you were holding when I found you.”

A crinkle began to deepen between Maggie’s eyebrows. She took a moment to respond with notable reserve.

“You think someone attacked us both and left the bat behind?”

“Or it was you who attacked Dwayne,” Matt offered.

That crease turned from concern to something he couldn’t read. It caught Matt off guard.

“I might not remember an entire day or so, but I wouldn’t hurt Dwayne Meyers. In fact, I wouldn’t use a bat to hurt anyone unless it was self-defense,” she said, voice even. “And, even if I had, what do you think happened? You think I used him as batting practice and then knocked myself unconscious? What would I gain from any of that?” This time her eyes found Matt’s and hunkered down on them. “I know you don’t like me but do you really think I’m capable of that?”

Matt remembered the first time he’d seen Maggie Carson. Her thick, wavy hair had been short then, but still wild. Despite five years it was the same dark oak color with a few new spots of lightened brown from, he guessed, days spent outside in the sun. She was still slender, as she had been back then, but not as rigid. When she’d first introduced herself Matt remembered thinking she looked very much like a woman with the world on her shoulders, forced to struggle to keep them upright. He’d never stopped to think about the woman’s personal life much past that, considering she had been there to question him about Erin’s death. But now?

Matt caught himself wondering about the life of the woman staring up at him with true, forest green eyes. Ones he realized he’d never really forgotten.

Ones he realized he believed.

But then what had gone on in that house?