One Fatal Mistake Page 8

  “This nurse here, she’s taking you to the hospital. If I showed up with you in a stolen car, they’d have questions. I wouldn’t have answers. We’d both get arrested. We can’t have that.”

  He kissed her forehead.

  “You’ll be fine. Just hang on. You can do this.”

  He slammed the door shut and looked at Karen.

  “Go,” he said. “Make up a story for why she’s hurt. And don’t try nothing cute.” He gestured toward Joshua with the gun. “She doesn’t make it, and he’ll pay.”

  Karen put the car in reverse, turned around, and started driving back through the forest.

  EIGHT

  Karen pushed seventy as she drove down the highway. Every second was precious. Behind her, the woman who’d been shot lay on her back, her hand over her stomach. Blood oozed onto her arm, smudging onto the leather seat.

  “What’s your name?” Karen said.

  The woman mumbled a response.

  “What was that?”

  “Amber.”

  “Amber, great. You’re going to be fine. Just hang in there. Okay?”

  She nodded. Karen kept her eyes focused on the highway. She’d nearly gotten lost finding her way out of the forest, but, thank God, her phone got reception and she found the path leading out.

  “That wound might look bad, but it’s not,” Karen said. “The bullet missed your vital organs.”

  She had no clue whether that was the truth but it sounded good, hopefully kept Amber calm.

  “What about that man you were with? Is that your husband?”

  “Y-yeah.”

  “Did you say his name was Ross?”

  “Uh-huh. Ross.”

  Karen continued to ask her questions as she drove down the highway, Cedar Rapids just a few miles away in the distance. She was headed to Mercy Hospital, where she worked. There might’ve been another hospital that was closer, maybe in Solon, but there hadn’t been time to look up directions or an address on her phone. She’d gotten in her car and booked.

  After white-knuckling it through the city, she arrived at Mercy. She pulled up right outside the entrance to the emergency room, rushed inside, and told them that she had a patient.

  A few workers ran out to her car. They lifted Amber from the backseat, put her on a stretcher, and wheeled her into the hospital.

  Karen watched them disappear past a set of double doors, into the hospital.

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes after arriving at the hospital, Karen sat in the waiting area by herself, staring at the magazines piled on the table in front of her. There were a million things to worry about, but all she could think of was Joshua.

  She called his phone. No answer. She pulled up her phone’s keypad and hit three digits: 911. She stared at her screen for a moment, then deleted the number without placing the call. It was just too risky to call the police right now. There was no telling what would happen if she told them everything and they showed up in the forest. Ross had seemed so irrational, so angry. He’d threatened to kill Joshua if she involved the police, and she feared it wasn’t an empty threat.

  An older nurse with long, dark hair appeared and sat down next to Karen. She set a disposable cup on the table.

  “Coffee,” she said. “I’ll apologize in advance for the taste. But it’s all we have.”

  “I know all about the coffee here,” Karen said. “I actually work up on the ICU floor. I’m a nurse.”

  “No kidding.” She gestured to the double doors Amber had disappeared through when they arrived. “So, what in the world happened?”

  “I was out driving,” Karen began. She knew people would have questions, and she’d come up with a story to explain everything as she waited. “And suddenly, I saw a person lying on the side of the road. I walked over. She was alive but I could tell she was hurt. Badly. At first, I thought she must’ve been hit by a car, but then I looked at her injury and saw it was a gunshot. I loaded her into my backseat and drove here.”

  The nurse brought a hand to her chest. “Goodness. Where did this happen?”

  “Off of Highway Thirty. West of the city.”

  Both the story and the location were made-up; she’d figure it out later if pressed for details. Main thing was, the location was nowhere near the Hawkeye Wildlife Management Area. She didn’t want anyone going near there right now.

  “Will she live?” Karen asked.

  “Too early to tell. She lost a lot of blood. She’s in surgery now and we’ll hope for the best.”

  “Do you know who she is?”

  “Right now, she’s a Jane Doe. She didn’t have any ID on her.”

  “Am I free to leave? I don’t think there’s much more I can do here.”

  “You’ll have to stick around for a while,” she said. “The police will be here shortly. We reported the gunshot wound to them. They’ll need to get your statement.”

  * * *

  Joshua sat on the ground, the same place he’d been since his mom left. The sun had started to rise—the surrounding forest was brighter but still gloomy, just bare trees and discolored grass.

  “Oh Jesus . . . If I lose her . . .”

  Ross had said little during the past fifteen minutes, but when he did speak, it was usually something along those lines. Mumbling curse words and partial phrases, a few threats. Joshua kept thinking about doing something—attempting to run and disappear in the forest, screaming for help, escaping to his car—but it all seemed too risky or pointless. If he tried to run away, he’d be lucky to get a few feet before Ross started shooting. Screaming for help wouldn’t accomplish anything; there wasn’t anyone for miles. And the flat tire made his car worthless.

  “Your mom better not try nothing,” Ross said, turning to Joshua. “She goes to the cops, she tells anyone about this, I’ll take you out. This place’ll be a bloodbath.”

  Ross thrust a hand into his jeans pocket. Felt around for a couple of seconds. Pulled out his baggie of pills. He took one, hands shaking. Around ten pills were left.

  He paced, ran his hand through his hair, bit his lower lip, the same nervous mannerisms he’d been doing for the past few minutes. In the distance, an animal howled. Ross looked in the direction of the noise. He shook his head. He glanced over at the dead body. Stared at it for a second. Shook his head again.

  “How far’s your house, kid?” he said to Joshua.

  “My house?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Ten, fifteen miles.”

  “Anyone home right now?”

  “No.”

  “Your dad? Brothers or sisters?”

  “No. It’s just me and my mom.”

  He looked past the body, at Joshua’s car. It was still there. The driver’s-side door was open and the interior light was on.

  “The keys. Hand ’em over,” Ross said.

  “They’re still in the ignition.”

  Ross walked over to the car and leaned into the driver’s seat. He grabbed the keys out of the ignition and popped the trunk. He leaned inside and moved some things around, stealing glances at Joshua.

  “You know how to change a tire?”

  Joshua shook his head.

  “I’ll do it, then. Don’t try nothing.”

  Ross rolled the spare tire to the front of the car and began to change out the flat. Flashlight in mouth, he concentrated and stole the occasional glance at Joshua as he worked. It took him a few minutes to finish.

  “Let’s go,” he said, standing up.

  “Go?” Joshua said. “Where?”

  “Your house. Creepy as hell, being all the way out here with that body. And I’m starving. So hurry it up. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  NINE

  “And right on the edge of the road, I saw a body. Blood was everywhere.”

  Karen
slowly shook her head as she told the story. Carmella and three other nurses from her floor sat across from her, each wearing green scrubs. They leaned forward in their seats, eyes locked on Karen. Somehow, word had spread up to the ICU bay about her arrival in the emergency room and a few of her coworkers had come down to get the scoop.

  She told them the same story she’d told the ER nurse earlier. She spoke slowly, distractedly, her thoughts still on Joshua. When she finished, her coworkers stared at her for a silent moment.

  “What a story,” one of the nurses finally said.

  “And I thought I was having an exciting day.”

  “You’re Wonder Woman,” Carmella said. “Only blond. And old.”

  There were a few chuckles. Karen tried to smile. Not much of one came.

  She glanced over at the double doors, a few feet away. “I just hope she’ll make it,” she said.

  Still no update. She didn’t even want to imagine what would happen if Amber didn’t pull through.

  Her coworkers continued talking, asking her questions. Karen halfheartedly answered, but she could barely concentrate. After a few questions, the ER nurse she’d talked to earlier walked into the waiting area.

  “I’ll need a moment of your time,” she said to Karen. “A police detective is here to speak with you.”

  * * *

  • • •

  A man who looked to be in his forties walked into the waiting area and stood next to the nurse. Dark hair, just a little gray. Strong jawline. A light blue button-up tucked into a pair of jeans.

  “I’m Detective Francis,” he said. “Call me Franny, though. Everyone does.”

  Karen’s coworkers stood up. They passed by her as they walked to the door.

  “Good luck,” Carmella said. She lowered her voice to a whisper: “Oh, and he’s not wearing a ring.”

  Carmella smiled. Karen didn’t even attempt to return it. She was too nervous. It was one thing to make up the story for a nurse or her coworkers. A different matter entirely to lie to a police detective.

  “Sounds like you had quite the morning,” Detective Francis—Franny—said. He sat next to her and took out a notepad.

  Karen nodded.

  “Go ahead and tell me everything that happened. Take your time.”

  “There’s not much to tell, honestly,” she began. She repeated her made-up story about finding Amber on the side of the highway, putting her in the backseat, and driving her to the hospital.

  “Quite the story,” Franny said once she finished. “Now, you found her off of Highway Thirty?”

  “Yes. That’s right.”

  “East or west of the city?”

  “West.”

  “How far out? Was there any sort of landmark nearby?”

  She paused for a moment. Thought. Tried to picture Highway 30.

  “It was a good ten miles outside of the city,” she said, “only a few feet past the turnoff for Atkins. I remember that.”

  Once Detective Franny went out there, he’d find no blood or any other sort of evidence that a person had been shot nearby. She didn’t know what would happen after that—maybe he’d have more questions; maybe he’d even start to suspect she was lying—but that was something to worry about later. Right now, all she wanted to do was end this interrogation. Get Franny out of there so she could return to Joshua.

  “The Atkins turnoff—I know the area,” Franny said. “Why were you all the way out there this early?”

  “Couldn’t sleep. Decided to drive around. I like how peaceful the roads are in the early mornings. And then I saw the body, right there on the edge of the road.”

  “When you found her, was there anyone else in the area? Any cars driving away?”

  “Not that I saw.”

  “Why didn’t you call nine-one-one?”

  “Instinct, I guess. I saw her there and I was so shocked by the sight. Saving her—that was the only thing on my mind. I’m a nurse; I know how seconds can matter in situations like this. By the time I thought about calling nine-one-one, I was halfway to the hospital. Figured it was quicker to drive her here myself.”

  “Did she say much on her way here?”

  “Amber—she told me her name. That was about it.”

  “Well, that’s a start. We’ll take her fingerprints and run those to see if there’s a match.”

  Franny asked her a few more questions. When he finished, he gave her a polite, brief smile.

  “You probably can’t wait to head home,” he said. “Heck of a start to the day.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “Just one final thing and you can go. I’d like to take a look at your car. The car you picked her up in.”

  “The car?”

  “Yeah. Just a quick look. Maybe an item fell out of her pocket, something like that. You never know. Won’t take but a second.”

  “Of course,” she said.

  They stood up from their chairs and she slipped on her coat. They exited the hospital and approached her car, the only one in the small emergency room parking lot.

  Franny pulled out his notebook and looked over his notes as they walked.

  “Just so I’m clear on this,” he said. “For my report. You were driving all the way out there on Highway Thirty at four this morning because you couldn’t sleep?”

  “Yes,” Karen said.

  Franny didn’t say anything in response. She could practically hear the gears turning in his head, thinking about the story. How had she not realized how ridiculous the story was? Driving around at four in the morning? Because she couldn’t sleep?

  “Sometimes I just enjoy driving,” Karen said. “That’s how I relax. I had some things to think about. My son is getting ready to graduate. I think I’m more nervous about what the future holds than he is. It’s weird, knowing he’ll be gone.”

  They reached the car. Franny walked around to the side of the car. He cupped his hands over the passenger window and looked in at the front seat.

  “I know the feeling,” he said. “My two daughters live with me. Twin girls. Can’t even imagine what the house will be like when they’re gone.”

  Franny opened the passenger door and leaned into the front seat. He looked around the car’s interior. He leaned past the front seat and looked at the bloodstained backseat.

  “They’re only thirteen, but college seems like it’s just around the corner,” he said. “They’re a handful but I can’t imagine life without them. Even the weekends they’re with their mother, the house feels empty and—Jesus.”

  Franny practically screamed the word. He stepped away from the car and turned to her. He stared at her, eyes hard, mouth half-open. He glanced over at the car again and turned back to her, the same confused, slightly alarmed expression on his face.

  A reaction like that could mean only one thing: he’d found something.

  TEN

  Detective Franny reached into the backseat and emerged with a black backpack in his hand. He set it on the ground. The top of the bag was unzipped—piles and stacks of money were inside, more money than Karen had ever seen in her life.

  “Oh my God,” she said. She stared at the backpack. Amber had thrown it into the backseat earlier, in the forest. In the chaos of everything that had happened, Karen had forgotten about that.

  “I found this in the backseat,” Franny said. “Looks like the zipper’s broken, and I glanced inside. Saw the money. What is going on?”

  “Amber—she had it with her when I found her.”

  “She did? Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”

  “I completely forgot. I’m sorry.”

  Franny silently stared at her. Seemed like there was a slightly different look in his eyes, a change in his demeanor.

  “Everything was so frantic,” Karen said. “But, yes. She was defin
itely wearing this bag when I found her. Strapped to her back. She must’ve taken it off when she was in the backseat.”

  “You didn’t see her do that? Or notice that it was filled with money?”

  “I was barely paying attention to anything. I was focused on getting to the hospital.” She looked down at the open bag. “I had no idea this money was inside. . . . I can’t believe it.”

  Franny kept his eyes on her, then leaned down and sifted through the money in the bag. He grabbed two items that were crumpled in the corner of the bag. He held the items in the air—one green, one brown.

  “Masks,” he said. “Looks like . . . Yoda and Chewbacca. From Star Wars. Something else in there, too.”

  He pointed at a dark metallic object in the corner of the bag.

  “Is that . . .”

  “A gun,” Franny said. “Looks like our friend has some explaining to do.”

  Franny told her he was going to call in and report everything. He stepped a few feet away and started talking on his phone. Karen stared down at the open backpack, at all of that money. The masks. The gun. She took a few deep, slow breaths, tried to calm herself.

  After talking into the phone for a few moments, Franny ended the call.

  “Turns out there was a bank robbery, people in Star Wars masks, over in Nebraska the other day. Made off with a pretty nice haul, sounds like. Reports say there were three people who pulled off the robbery.”

  He looked back down at the backpack.

  “So what happened to the other two?” he said. “If this woman Amber was one of the robbers, where are the other two right now?”

  * * *

  Joshua gripped the steering wheel with both hands and stared out his car’s cracked windshield. Ross was in the backseat, behind him.

  “The gun’s pointed right at you, big man,” Ross said. “Don’t try nothing. Just drive.”

  Joshua drove on, back through the forest. He caught Ross’s reflection in the rearview mirror. He was just as restless and jumpy as he’d been in the forest. His head was on a swivel, constantly scanning the road, glancing out the window, looking at Joshua. His loud, heavy breathing was the only sound in the car.