Janie stepped in before Lizzy could respond. “Sorry. We need to take her now. She’ll be at Memorial.”
“Right. Sorry.” She smiled at Lizzy as she stepped back, but her chin began to wobble. “We’ll be right behind you.”
“No. Wait. Will you ride with me?” Lizzy’s eyes slid to Janie’s. “Can she? She’s my mother.”
Janie hiked a shoulder. “Works for me. What do you say, Mom—ready to roll?”
Rhanna brought Evvie up to speed while Janie and Hal loaded Lizzy into the rig and prepared for transport. When Hal gave the signal, Rhanna climbed in and settled beside Janie.
Lizzy reached for her hand as the rig started down the driveway. “Thanks for coming with me.”
Rhanna wiped her eyes, a smile trembling at her lips. “Sorry to be such a Weepy Wilma. It’s just . . . before, when you asked if I could ride with you, did you say I was your mother because you thought she’d say no if I weren’t?”
Lizzy was surprised to feel the prickle of tears behind her own lids. “I said it because it’s who you are. I saw your face just now, when you saw me strapped to this stretcher. You were scared—for me.” She closed her eyes, swallowing convulsively as Althea’s words drifted back. Bridges can be built across the widest chasms, even when all we have to build with are broken pieces. “It’s time to stop punishing you.”
Lizzy squinted at the vision chart tacked to the trauma room wall until the double images finally resolved into one. The glare from the overhead fluorescents wasn’t doing her headache any favors. Unfortunately, in the case of concussion, most pain meds were contraindicated. They’d given her acetaminophen, but so far it hadn’t helped much.
After much pleading, the doctor had agreed to let her go home, but only because Rhanna had promised to keep her still, wake her every few hours, just to be on the safe side, and strictly prohibit all electronics, which shouldn’t be difficult now that her cell phone had been reduced to ash.
Lizzy looked up as the vinyl room divider slid back and Evvie appeared. She faltered as her gaze settled on Lizzy.
“Oh, my little girl. All broken up, and black-and-blue. I knew something was wrong. I could feel it. That’s why we packed up early. I knew . . .”
Lizzy touched the butterfly closure on her lip. “It’s not as bad as it looks. Just some bruises and a little concussion.”
“Humph. I’m guessing you haven’t seen yourself. And there’s no such thing as a little concussion. They said your jaw might be broken.”
“It’s not. Just a bone bruise, which looks worse than it is. I might be living on Cream of Wheat for a while, though.”
Evvie rolled her eyes as she pulled a tissue from her handbag and blotted her eyes. “You could have been killed.”
“But I wasn’t.” Lizzy pulled in a shaky breath, fingers pleating the thin hospital blanket, as the seconds ticked by on the black-and-white wall clock. “It was Hollis Hanley, Evvie,” she said finally. “He killed the girls, and Dennis was afraid I’d find it out. The note, the orchard, all of it, was to protect Hollis.”
Evvie nodded, her face grave. “Your mama told me. Have you talked to the police yet?”
“They sent a detective to take my statement. The same guy I spoke to about the break-in. Apparently, he’s a friend of Roger’s.”
She’d been surprised to find Michael Hammond waiting for her when they wheeled her back from X-ray, until he explained that Roger had given him a heads-up after their conversation. He let her know that Dennis’s remains had been recovered from the debris. Unfortunately, with only dental records to go on, it would probably be several days before they had a definitive ID.
“I told him about the paper the note was written on, how it reminded me of the stuff butchers use to wrap meat. He’s going to the plant where Dennis worked tomorrow to see if it matches, and to compare the knives they use with the one the police found the night of the break-in. We still won’t have solid proof linking Hollis to the murders, but the circumstantial evidence certainly points to him.”
“It’s enough,” Evvie told her evenly. “And past time for it all to be over.”
Lizzy thought about that, about what it would feel like for it all to be over, to finally have the questions answered, the pieces all neatly linked. This didn’t feel like that. There was no rush of relief. No sense of closure. There were only more questions.
“I hope so,” she said, quietly.
“What aren’t you saying?”
“Nothing, probably. But it’s ironic, don’t you think? Dennis spent years trying to cover up what happened that night, and all he ended up doing was ruining his life. Why? Hollis was dead.” She paused, probing her swollen lower lip. “I can’t help thinking . . .” She closed her eyes, fighting a shudder. She’d heard about death by fire—all their kind had—but seeing it with your own eyes was something else entirely. “The last thing he said was A man does what he has to. It was like he thought he had no other choice.”
“Hush,” Evvie hissed. “You did what you set out to do, and that’s an end to it.”
Lizzy nodded, silent. She wanted it to be true.
FORTY-ONE
Andrew smelled smoke long before he spotted the fire trucks. His gut twisted when he turned the corner and saw the emergency vehicles clogging the road, the reflective orange-and-white barricades blocking through traffic. He parked as close as the barricades would allow, not bothering to pull the keys from the ignition, and hit the ground at a run.
The house was fine. So was the shop. Which left the barn. He followed the trail of flaccid fire hoses up the drive, faltering briefly when he spotted the plain white van sitting with its back doors flung wide.
No water in the hoses. No medic rig on the street. ME
