She Wore Mourning P.D. Workman (best novel books to read .txt) 📖

The room was darker, or maybe it was a different room. He could still hear the machines, and the PA system, and the people walking around and talking to each other. It was night. Zachary strained to turn his head and look around, but it wouldn’t move.

He was still awake when a nurse came in. A black, overweight, middle-aged woman. She smiled down at his face. “Well, look who’s awake. How are you feeling, sugar?”

“Okay.”

“Good. I just need to check all your vitals and the machine. Can I get you anything? Are you comfortable?”

Zachary licked his lips. “Water?”

She retrieved a cup and held the straw to his lips. The water was tepid but felt good in his mouth and throat.

“Tongue hurts,” he noted.

“Yes, it’s a little cut up. You had a seizure at the accident scene before they brought you in. I guess you bit your tongue then.”

“I did?”

“Or maybe you bit it during the accident. That can certainly happen when the car is rolling over and crashing into a ditch.”

Zachary couldn’t remember the accident happening, but when she described it so matter-of-factly, panic took over. He could suddenly feel the car rolling, the suspended feeling of not knowing which way was up. Debris was flying around the car, the windows shattering, Kenzie was screaming beside him.

“Whoa, there,” the nurse said, laying a hand on his arm. “Calm down. Deep breaths.” The beeps and noises of the machines had sped up, complaining loudly. “You’re okay, sugar. You’re safe here.”

She put two fingers over his carotid pulse, even though she could surely hear his racing heartbeat on the machine next to her. Her touch was soothing.

“There, hon’. It’s okay. Deep breaths. Blow it all out. Deep breath in… blow it all out… no gasping, you’re fine. Just breathe it all out again. It’s okay.”

She stroked his hair, speaking soothingly, and the panic attack gradually passed. She waited for a while.

“Okay now?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about. You’re safe, and your girlfriend is safe, and we’re going to make sure you’re all fixed up. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“That’s a boy. You want another sip of water?”

“Yes.”

She gave him the straw again, and Zachary drank a few sips.

“I’m going to go on and do my rounds now, but I’ll check back on you again. Don’t worry. Even though you can’t reach the call button, the machines will let me know if you’re in trouble. You can just rest.”

Zachary blew out a breath. “Okay.”

Chapter Sixteen

He slept and woke restlessly, never sure how long he had been unconscious or what time of day it would be when he awoke again. Kenzie was often there. Sometimes a doctor or nurse talked to him and tested his reflexes and other signs.

Then there were a couple of policemen beside his bed. Not ones he knew. A department or precinct he hadn’t worked with before.

“How are you feeling today, Mr. Goldman?” asked the big, hearty one. His name tag said Farrell.

“Been better,” Zachary said, trying weakly for a smile.

“Yes, I imagine you have been. You’re pretty bruised up today. You’d make a good addition to a zombie walk.”

Zachary tried to think of a clever comeback, but his brain still wasn’t operating at full speed.

“I wonder if you can tell me what you remember of the accident?”

“Not much. Just after… them cutting me out of the car.”

“What do you remember of that evening? Do you remember going out to eat?”

Zachary tried to replay it in his mind. “Yes… Kenzie. At the inn.”

“That’s right. You have a nice meal?”

“Yeah. Really good. But I wasn’t drunk. I wouldn’t drive drunk.”

“No. Your blood tests are back, and we know you weren’t drunk.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“Do you remember going back out to your car?”

“Yes. Was there…” Zachary focused, trying to pin down the ephemeral images. “Was there a flyer on the car?”

“Was there?” Farrell prompted.

“There was… a paper.”

“An advertisement for a local bar or band?” Farrell suggested.

“No… no, it was another note.” It formed in Zachary’s mind. “A threat… because I hadn’t quit a case.”

“What case?”

“I… don’t know which one. They never said.”

“They?”

“Whoever was leaving the notes. They didn’t say which case I was supposed to stop investigating.”

“Do you have any idea?”

“A few… but I don’t know for sure.”

“You had received other notes?”

“One other note taped to my apartment door; and… a voicemail. It’s still on my phone, but they used a voice changer.”

“We’ll requisition it from your phone company. Since your phone was… not recoverable.”

Zachary hadn’t thought about his phone until that point. He hadn’t thought about whether any of his possessions had survived the accident. He got out of there with his life, and that was as much as he could hope.

“You have an idea of who might be sending the notes?” Farrell pressed.

“Maybe. I’ll have to think about it.”

“We’ll need to question anyone who might be a suspect.”

Zachary tried to process this. “Why?”

The other policeman moved. Farrell scribbled something down in his notepad, saying nothing, but keeping an eye on his partner.

“Rick Savois,” he told Zachary, who couldn’t shake his hand. Savois leaned in close to him, dropping his voice. It wasn’t like there was anyone there to overhear him. Who did he think was going to hear? One of the nurses out in the hallway? His partner? “It would appear that your car was tampered with.”

“Tampered…” Zachary echoed. He knew he should be angry or frightened, but he was just blank. The idea of someone tampering with his car was unthinkable. “I… I checked the bumpers. For a tracking device.”

“A tracking device wouldn’t cause an accident,” Farrell pointed out.

“Oh… but… if there was an explosive… it wasn’t under the bumper.”

“No,” Savois agreed. “It wasn’t a bomb. It was your brake lines.”

“The brakes were cut?”

“Looks like it. That fits Miss Kirshe’s recollection of the accident. She said that you tried to hit the brake rounding a curve, but nothing happened. It was going too fast to make the curve, went off the side of the road, started to