Don't Wake the Dead Page 21

  “If you change your mind, I’m happy to listen,” I offered.

  Mal put an arm around my shoulders and led me back to the sofa. “Maybe when you’re not swaying on your feet.”

  I sighed as I sat back in the cushions. “Good point.”

  “What do you want to watch?”

  Since my head was still a little fuzzy, I shrugged. “You pick.” I hesitated. “Um, just nothing gory or violent, okay?”

  “No problem.”

  To my utter shock, he chose Gilmore Girls.

  “You watch this?” I asked.

  “Uh, hell yeah. Lauren Graham and Alexis Bledel? They’re hot and funny.”

  I pulled a blanket over my legs and snuggled into the corner of the couch. The last thing I remember was Lorelai asking her parents to help her pay for Rory’s tuition.

  I woke up as Mal hit the top step of the stairs. “Hey, you shouldn’t be carrying me. I’m heavy,” I complained.

  “Nah,” he replied.

  He sounded a bit out of breath, so I knew it was a lie.

  “Put me down. I can walk,” I demanded sleepily.

  “Too late now. I’ve already got you upstairs and two steps from your room.”

  “Fine,” I conceded.

  He deposited me on my bed. “I’ll see you in the morning. Do you need anything before I go to sleep?”

  “No, thanks,” I replied.

  Mal left the room, turning off the overhead light as he went. Despite sleeping most of the day, I was tired. Apparently, concussions were exhausting.

  I awoke to find Teri hovering over me, my face ice cold.

  “They’re here,” she whispered.

  My blood curdled at her words. Even though I knew the answer, I still asked, “Who?”

  “A man and a woman. They’re coming for you, Zoe. You have to run.”

  Heart pounding, I threw back the covers and leapt to my feet. Before I could move, the bedroom door burst open, slamming against the wall. Steven Dwyer was framed in the doorway.

  I watched in horror as his arm lifted and revealed a pistol clenched in his fist. Frozen in fear, I couldn’t move as he pulled the trigger. Agonizing pain burned through my left temple.

  Then I was falling. And falling. The floor seemed hundreds of feet away. As it rushed up to meet me, I screamed.

  “Zoe!”

  Crying out, I knifed up, my hand clapping over my left temple. I cringed back from the dark shadow that loomed over my bed.

  The lamp next to my bed clicked on, illuminating Mal’s form. Without thinking, I dove into his arms as tears streamed down my face.

  “Sh,” he whispered. “You’re okay. It was a nightmare.”

  I clutched at him, burying my head against his shoulder. My body heaved with the force of the sobs torn from my throat.

  Mal held me and rocked me, murmuring comforting nonsense in my ear.

  It took a long time for me to calm down. Once I did, Mal handed me a tissue from the box on my nightstand.

  “A dream about last night?” he asked.

  I nodded as I wiped my eyes and blew my nose.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he invited.

  “Not really,” I replied. “But will you stay with me until I fall back asleep?”

  “Of course,” he replied simply.

  Mal climbed into bed next to me and pulled me against his side so that my head was pillowed on his shoulder. As I curled up against him, I realized that this behavior might be sending the wrong message if I wanted to keep our relationship professional.

  Mal’s hand stroked my hair and I decided that I would address the issue tomorrow. For tonight, I would take the comfort I needed however I could get it.

  Chapter

  The next morning wasn’t awkward at all. Mostly because I woke up alone.

  I could smell coffee brewing and bacon frying. I gasped after I glanced at the clock. It was a few minutes after nine. Knowing Sheriff Daughtry, he would be here early.

  My body felt stiff and sore as I climbed out of bed, worse than the day before. I remembered my father’s warning, that the second day would be the worst and grimaced.

  I avoided the bathroom mirror as I hobbled through the door and went straight to the shower. Dropping my clothes on the floor, I stepped under the steamy spray and hissed as the hot water pounded on my achy muscles.

  Moving as quickly as I could manage, I washed my hair and body. I gingerly washed my face, trying to avoid the bruised side. The scratches on my legs and arms stung, but I needed to feel clean. I hadn’t had a shower in two days.

  When I was done, I stood beneath the spray and let the hot water soak into my neck and shoulders. Aware that time was passing, I sighed and leaned down to turn off the flow. I could have stood beneath the spray for hours, but I didn’t want Sheriff Daughtry to conduct my interview in my bathroom. Knowing him, he would try.

  After I toweled off, I perused my dresser for wardrobe choices. Finally, I gave up and grabbed a bra, panties, and my favorite pair of yoga pants. I’d worn and washed them so many times that they were softer than anything else I owned. I tugged a loose t-shirt over my head and pulled my hair from beneath the collar.

  Because I had a feeling the whir of the hair dryer would probably make my headache return, I left my hair wet and twisted it into a loose braid to keep it out of my face.

  When I appeared in the kitchen, Mal looked up from the plate he was filling with eggs and bacon.

  “Good morning. I was just about to wake you up with breakfast in bed.”

  “Want me to go back upstairs and wait?”

  “Nah. The sheriff will be here soon. He’d just make me drag you back down,” he replied. “Now sit down and let me serve you.”

  “Okay, just this once.”

  Once again I felt the nagging sensation that my interactions with Mal were veering into dangerous territory, especially when he poured me a cup of coffee and brought a plate of food to the table for me.

  “Do you treat all your employees this way?” I teased.

  “Well, you’re my only employee, so I’m not sure. I’ll get back to you.” He brought another plate and cup of coffee to the table and sat next to me. “How are you feeling this morning?”

  I picked at my eggs. “Better. The headache is almost gone.”

  “I meant your emotions, Zoe. That was a wild nightmare. I thought you were going to wake up the neighbors.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know how I feel. I’m trying not to think about it. I almost felt as though I were living through it again. It was…terrifying.”

  Mal put his hand over mine. Before he could speak, the doorbell pealed. With a sigh, Mal glanced at his phone.

  “Well, it seems the sheriff believes in being early. It’s a quarter to ten.” He got to his feet. “Eat a little breakfast. I’ll stall him in the living room.”

  I managed to choke down a few bites of egg and toast before Mal returned with the sheriff in tow. Mal frowned pointedly at my partially full plate.

  The sheriff rocked back on his heels when he saw me. “My God, Dwyer did one hell of a number on you.”

  I scowled at him, trying not to flinch as the expression made my face hurt. “Yeah. I’m lucky to be alive.”

  Daughtry’s jaw tightened at my words, which told me that my jab had been a direct hit. He knew that Dwyer was dangerous, yet he hadn’t protected Mal and me.

  “Well, Dwyer confessed to everything. The plot to kill you and Mal, the murder of Hank Murphy, and Trisha Dwyer’s participation in both crimes,” he declared.

  “Really?” I asked. “Why?”

  Daughtry accepted a cup of coffee from Mal. “Thanks,” he muttered before he sipped. Then he deigned to answer my question. “Apparently, Hank’s death was of Trisha’s design. She claimed that her husband threatened to kill her and beat her up when she told him she wanted a divorce. Dwyer thought he was protecting her from a potentially dangerous situation. In reality, she wanted to escape a messy divo
rce and get the insurance payout.”

  I shook my head. “Jesus.”

  The sheriff took another sip of coffee. “Yeah, she’s a piece of work.”

  “So what’s going to happen?” I asked.

  “Well, I’m going to have you tell me what happened that night, in detail. Then you’ll sign the statement. The judge has already denied them both bail since they’re considered a flight risk after they dropped off the face of the Earth last week. When their trial comes around, the DA will probably want you both to testify. Hopefully, they will both be locked up for the rest of their lives.” Sheriff Daughtry shook his head. “It’s sad. I think Dwyer truly loved Trisha when he killed Hank. He thought he was saving her. Over the years, he’s come to realize that she played him and probably never loved him. Neither of them could leave because they couldn’t be sure the other wouldn’t rat them out.”

  “I’d say they made their own beds,” Mal stated firmly.

  Sheriff Daughtry nodded. “Yeah, they did. But Dwyer made his bed from the lies he was fed from a woman he loved.” He removed a digital recorder from his pocket. “If you’re ready, Zoe, we can get this done and you can get some rest.”

  His attitude towards me was almost gentle. Maybe there was one positive effect of the bruises covering the left side of my face.

  He started the interview by asking me to state my name, the date, and a bunch of other information. Then he launched into questions regarding the terrifying night that Trisha and Steve Dwyer tried to kill me. While I answered, he jotted down short notes on a legal pad in front of him, occasionally stopping me mid-sentence to clarify something I’d said.

  By the time we were done, I was shaking. Reliving that night, especially after the horrific dream I’d had a few hours ago, was torture.

  Sheriff Daughtry’s voice was soothing and quiet as he asked me if everything I’d stated was true. When I agreed, he asked me to read the statement and sign it. My signature was little more than a large Z followed by a bunch of squiggles because the tremor in my hand was so strong I could barely hold the pen.

  Once that was done, Sheriff Daughtry stopped the recorder and collected the machine.

  “Thank you for talking to me today, Zoe. I know it was difficult, especially since you’re still not feeling well, but the longer we waited, the more likely you would forget important details. Especially since you have a head injury.”

  My brows lifted at his words. It had only been two days, but I remembered every single second of that experience in vivid accuracy.

  Mal walked the sheriff out and returned to the kitchen, looking annoyed. “I know that interview probably ruined your appetite, but you need to eat.” He poured me a glass of orange juice and pushed my plate closer to me. “Drink that and eat a slice of toast.”

  “Yes, Mother,” I grumbled.

  He chuckled. “I need you to get better so we can get back to work.”

  “Oh, so all this nurturing is motivated by greed, huh?”

  He shook his head. “You’re obviously feeling more like yourself if you’re making smart ass remarks.”

  “Um, not well enough to make my own food, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

  Mal didn’t answer, but he did laugh.

  As he began to clean up the breakfast dishes, my mood darkened. We finally knew what happened to Hank Murphy and the culprits would be spending the rest of their lives in jail.

  “We need to talk to Hank,” I declared. “I just don’t know what to tell him. Is it worth it to crush his spirit after he’s already dead?”

  “He’s waited twenty years, Zoe. He can wait a few more days until you’re well.”

  I shook my head. “That’s exactly why I don’t want to wait, Mal. He’s been on that road, alone, and waiting for decades. He deserves to know what happened to him.”

  Mal shut off the water and dried his hands, moving over to the table. “Maybe, but you need rest. Plus, you’re not allowed to drive for at least a week.”

  “I thought you could drive me.”

  “Not happening,” he answered with a shake of his head.

  I sighed and tried a different tact. “Tomorrow.”

  Mal just kept shaking his head.

  “Either you drive me or I call Jonelle. She’ll do it.”

  Mal eyed me. “Fine. I’ll drive you tomorrow night, if you put your feet up all day today.”

  I wanted to roll my eyes, but that would have made my head hurt, so I settled for making a face at him. “I wasn’t planning on running a marathon, Mal.”

  “That’s the deal, take it or leave it.”

  “I’ll rest today,” I agreed grudgingly.

  “Good. Starting now,” he demanded. “Finish your toast and juice then go lie down for a little while.”

  “Now, you really do sound like my mother.”

  Mal ignored my jab and went back to washing the dishes.

  I began to wonder if my mother was rubbing off on him. God, I hoped not. One of her was plenty, even if her attitude was changing.

  Chapter

  The next evening, I dressed in cutoff shorts and a t-shirt and pulled my hair into a ponytail. I came downstairs to find Mal standing by the front door, his keys in his hand.

  “So I don’t have to call Jonelle for a ride?” I asked.

  “Nope. I’ll drive you.”

  I was glad that I didn’t have to argue with him. Though I was feeling more like myself, I was still tired. The only reason I was so determined to speak to Hank was to give him peace.

  He’d been waiting for help for twenty years and he deserved to move on. Especially since the woman he’d been waiting for had been the one to plan his murder.

  As Mal drove toward the isolated area, I tried to figure out what I would say to Hank. I’d been wracking my brain for the last two days, but how did someone tell a man that the woman he loved wanted him dead?

  “What’s wrong?” Mal asked.

  I glanced at him. “Nothing, why?”

  “Zoe, your left leg hasn’t stopped bouncing since you got in the car. Something’s bugging you.”

  Okay, so Mal was beginning to see right through me. “I’m just not sure what to say to Hank. I’ve never broken someone’s heart before.”

  “Hey, what about mine?”

  “Your what?”

  “My heart. You broke it when you turned me down flat.”

  “Not helping,” I replied.

  Mal grinned. “Okay, so you didn’t break my heart. Just my ego. I’ll probably survive.”

  “Seriously, Mal. What do I say? I’m not great with people at the best of times, and this is definitely not a better time.”

  “Tell him the truth, Zoe, as kindly as you can. That’s all anyone could ask of you in this situation. There’s no ‘easy’ way to break this kind of news to someone. But as you said, Hank needs to know so that he can move on.”

  I nodded. “You’re right.”

  I took deep breaths to help calm my nerves as Mal turned down the Farm to Market road. As we drove I saw the faint glow of Hank’s figure in the distance and felt my own heart ache.

  I wondered how long the last few weeks had seemed to him. Had they felt like an eternity or had they passed in the blink of an eye? Did time seem shorter now that he’d been alone for so long?

  Suddenly, my nerves calmed. I might be here to deliver painful news, but Hank Murphy would be able to let go and move on after this.

  Hank stood perfectly still as Mal parked and we climbed out. His eyes widened as he took in my face.

  “What happened to you?” he asked me.

  “We found out who killed you and they took exception to that.”

  “They? There was more than one person?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Did the police arrest them after they hurt you?”

  “Yes.” I took a deep breath. “Hank, you knew the people that hurt you. You knew them very well.”

  “Who?”

  “The ma
n that killed you was Steven Dwyer,” I replied. “But he wouldn’t have done it if it hadn’t been for the encouragement of someone else close to you.”

  Hank sighed, closed his eyes, and dropped his head forward. “Trisha.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  He lifted his head and looked at me, his eyes sad and hollow. “I knew that Trisha was screwing around with someone. I just didn’t expect it to be Steve and I definitely didn’t expect her to want me dead.” His eyes shifted to the left side of my face. “Did Steve do that to you?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Will they pay for what they did?”

  “Yes,” I replied. “Steve confessed to killing you and breaking into my house. He also implicated Trisha in both crimes. They’ll be going to jail for a very long time.”

  “So my murderers have been brought to justice?” he asked.

  “They have.”

  Hank heaved a huge sigh. “After all these years, it’s over.” His shoulders sagged. “I can’t believe it.”

  “I’m so sorry, Hank,” I apologized.

  He smiled at me, but it was full of sorrow. “What do you have to be sorry for, Zoe? You didn’t do any of this.”

  “I hate giving you hurtful news,” I confessed. “You didn’t deserve any of this.”

  “Neither did you,” he replied. “Thank you for helping me, Zoe. It’s finally over.”

  “You’re welcome, Hank.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “Did you hear that?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Someone’s calling my name,” he stated, twisting around.

  I didn’t hear anything.

  “There it is again,” he repeated. “Don’t you hear that?” he asked again, facing me.

  “No, I don’t,” I replied. Although I was beginning to understand what was happening.

  “Do you see that light?” Hank asked, his voice full of awe. “It’s beautiful.”

  He was moving on.

  “It’s time to go, Hank,” I answered.

  He looked at me. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re being called. It’s time to move on and leave this place behind.”

  The sadness faded from his expression. “It’s really over, isn’t it?”