Death by Honeymoon

The nurse shook her head, “I’m sorry.”

Then she pulled the curtains and walked out of the cubicle.

Ann looked peaceful resting there, and Cindy didn’t want to make her talk. She was breathing on her own, that was good. There was a brace around her neck. Probably the usual precaution after a car accident.

“Stay awake, Ann,” Cindy said, gently nudging her. Ann’s eyes fluttered opened.

Cindy held her sister’s hand and tried to settle down . Was it possible, she wondered, that Ann would die? It was much more than she could bear. She held onto Ann’s hand for dear life. “You’re gonna make it,” Cindy whispered to her, over and over. “Just keep breathing, Ann. Help is here. You’re not alone.” She felt Ann’s pulse calm down as she spoke to her, as if her very cells heard what Cindy said.

Then the curtains were pulled open again and the nurse returned to tell her that the police wanted to talk to her.

Reluctantly, Cindy got up and left her bedside.

Outside, in the waiting room, a rugged-looking officer in his late forties was standing, waiting for her.

“Cindy Blaine?” he asked, looking down at a notepad.

Cindy followed him to some benches in the hallway, where they both sat down. The hospital was crowded with patients and families, walking back and forth, along with doctors, nurses, technicians wheeling trays.

Cindy looked over at him and was surprised to see his hazel eyes looking at her searchingly.

 “What happened to my sister?” she asked.

“The car veered off the road and hit a tree. She banged her head against the windshield. It didn’t break. Could have been much worse. There was no sign of alcohol. Does your sister take drugs?”

“Not at all.”

“Not to your knowledge?”

“Not at all.”

“Not even for medical purposes?”

“No, she doesn’t. “

“The rain was strong and the roads were slippery,” he said. “The car is relatively new. It’s registered to you?”

“Yes. She told me the brakes gave out. Is that true?”

The officer looked at her.

“Could be. We’ll have to do a run up on it. Did you ever have any trouble with it?”

“No.”

“Your sister lives with you?”

“No. She lives in Wisconsin with her husband. She’s been here for a visit.”

“For how long?”

Cindy thought that was an odd question. What did it matter? “She’s been here for a while,” Cindy said.

“Trouble at home?” he asked.

“No,” Cindy replied. “She came to help me. My husband died recently.”

He stopped writing, and seemed really taken aback . “I’m really sorry.”

“An accident on our honeymoon,” Cindy continued. Suddenly she had an intense desire to tell him everything. She so badly wanted someone to talk to. To tell him her suspicions about Clint’s accident. About her in-laws. The suspicious photo. Could there be a connection with all this and the car accident? Her in-laws had access to her garage. Had someone tampered with the brakes? They would have thought it was Cindy driving. Was this accident meant for her?

Who wanted her dead? And why? And what did it  have to do with Clint?

“Is it possible that my car was tampered with?” she asked, tentatively.

He looked her over.

“Why do you ask that?”

“I…” she began. But she didn’t know what to say. It was all too overwhelming.

“My husband’s death…I don’t think it was an accident.”

He stared at her.

“How did he die?”

“In the ocean. Surfing. In Barbados.”

Tears filled Cindy’s eyes.

 “He wasn’t meant to die,” she simply said, and despite herself, started to cry.

“And my car was in perfect shape. It had to be someone close by who messed with the brakes, someone with access to my garage.”

She felt his hand on her shoulder.

“Lady,” he said, “you’ve been through a lot. I think you should go home and rest. We’ll do a full diagnostic on your car. Don’t worry. If anything’s out of place, you’ll be the first to know. OK?”

But as she watched him leave, as she stood there alone in the waiting room, she suddenly knew - without a doubt. Clint’s death and the car incident were related. That accident was meant for her. She was more convinced than ever that whoever wanted Clint dead, wanted her dead, too.

And that they’d stop at nothing until that happened.

Chapter 9

Ann was diagnosed with a concussion, whiplash and a broken collarbone. They monitored her closely. This should have been me, Cindy kept thinking. I’m not supposed to be alive. For some odd reason, it didn’t surprise her, just woke her up and raised the ante. If she wanted to keep on living, she’d have to find out what was going on.

Cindy stayed at her sister’s bedside, holding her hand as they moved her to her own room . Above all, she was determined for Ann to get well. “You’re going to be fine,” she kept murmuring, as though it were a mantra.

Once Ann arrived in her room, Cindy had to sit on a chair in the corner as the nurses took over, moved Ann to a hospital bed, took her vital signs, set up her medication. As she sat there watching, Cindy turned the events over in her head.

No question about it, what happened in Barbados was far from over. Everything that happened since then was linked by a silver thread. Cindy had to trace that thread, pull on it a little, and everything would open up. The hostility with Clint’s family hadn’t ended, only grown worse. They were the only ones she knew that had access to her garage. They had to think it would be her driving. And who else would have that photo?

As Cindy traced the silver thread it kept pointing to the family again and again. And what about Clint? They were furious that he disregarded their advice about the marriage. Had one of them arranged for him to be kidnapped and killed when he went down to the beach? Was his body dumped on shore so it could be found and the case closed? Who had to gain most by that?

Cindy thought about Marge’s husband Ralph - how silent and sullen he usually was. Was he afraid that Clint’s marriage to Cindy would affect his position in the family or his inheritance? He’d come from a poor family, was obsessed with financial security. She wouldn’t put it past him. And Marge and Clint were never close .

Is that why Clint would never talk about the family? Could he have realized there was danger and not let it on? Had he kept all kinds of secrets from her? The idea of it horrified her, but she had to face the possibility, whether she liked it or not. The photo told her that something shady was lurking in his past. Was it possible that someone had a vendetta against him?

Cindy felt her world start to shake, as though there was no longer solid ground to stand on. She could not rest until she found out what really happened. Nothing else mattered anymore.

The door to the hospital room opened, and in walked Ann’s husband, Frank.

He had just flow in from Wisconsin, and he looked exhausted and frightened.

He and Cindy had never gotten on well. She’d always been an annoyance to him, seemed to take up too much of Ann’s time.