| |
WHEN THE DOCTOR INSISTS that Quinn saved her brother’s life, she swears she detects a hint of resignation. Sure, she saved a life – but in his opinion, it’s the life of someone who committed a triple homicide. She wonders if the doctor wishes she would have just let him hang.
The funny thing is she barely remembers any of it. She knows now that she grabbed a fishing knife out of his open tackle box (the same box that contained the rope during her last visit; the rope that somehow cannot be located now), flipped the wooden kitchen chair upright, lifted her 205lb brother with superhuman strength and cut him loose. She held him in her arms on the basement floor while she called 911 and sobbed, barely registering the CPR instructions the operator calmly recited. When the EMTs arrived and announced that they detected a faint heartbeat, Quinn leaned over and vomited in the tackle box.
Tonight is Devil’s Night; the night before Halloween. What a bittersweet occasion – it’s Matt’s favorite holiday. Jessie briefly came up for air from her Xanax-induced nap to bring Matt’s record player to the hospital with his favorite Halloween albums. She had to fight tooth and nail to be allowed in the house to retrieve them, as it’s still considered a crime scene. Like Quinn and Jim, Jessie says it’s just not possible that Matt could hurt anyone. The knowledge of Jessie and Quinn’s conversation regarding Matt’s strange behavior that morning gets buried deep; neither woman can bear to think of it now. There’s just no way Matt did this.
As Jessie sets up the record player, Quinn is thankful, once again, that they aren’t in a bigger city. There’s no way they should be allowing visitors in the hospital room of a murder suspect, but the officers in Delta County most likely have never experienced anything like this and probably aren’t quite sure how to handle it. She mentioned this in her book about Heather; the fact that Frank and Meryl were allowed in the room to watch her give birth while in custody would shock any family member of someone in the prison system. Small towns do things a little differently and it’s not always with ill intent, it’s often because they just haven’t been in a situation like this before.
Heather texted Quinn this morning and asked if she could stop by in support of the family. Quinn wasn’t sure if her arrival would create a bigger media firestorm than they were already experiencing, but she also didn’t think it was possible to get any worse. The brother of famous author Quinn Harstead attempts to take his own life when authorities close in on him for being the Delta County Strangler. She hasn’t opened her phone or laptop to see any of the headlines, but she imagines that’s the gist.
Aiden has been going back and forth to the house to get food (this hospital stuff isn’t cutting it, so Randall has been packaging up meals for the family) and clothes for Quinn, Jim, and Jessie. He doesn’t feel comfortable trying to go to Matt and Jessie’s house, so he’s been grabbing extra outfits from Quinn’s closet for her to wear. Just as he’s leaving to go retrieve more supplies, Quinn receives a text that Heather is on her way. “Are you okay with that?” she asks Jessie.
“Makes no difference to me,” Jessie says, void of emotion. Quinn notes from her glazed eyes that she must have taken another dose of anxiety meds. Quinn is in no place to judge. Her motto for grief is whatever gets you through the day.
––––––––
HEATHER FEELS STRANGE showing up at the hospital, but she knows it’s the right thing to do. Quinn has been there for her more times than she can count since they met, and now it’s time to repay the favor.
She had Meryl pick out a bouquet at Wickert Floral to bring for Quinn, but she wasn’t sure what arrangement was best for the occasion of sympathizing with her friend because her only sibling is in a coma, while also being relieved that no one considers her a murder suspect anymore. Meryl settled on carnations.
It happened overnight. Heather received apologies from several members of the community who sheepishly admitted to doubting her innocence. Her friends’ schedules suddenly cleared, and they immediately called or came over. Much to Meryl’s delight, she was able to return to her beloved slot machines. The calls and emails from the media ceased briefly, before regaining their traction when they decided they needed Heather’s thoughts on Quinn’s brother seemingly framing her for murder.
Heather wasn’t quite sure what to think about the situation. She has only met Matt a handful of times, and he acted indifferent at best toward her. She didn’t sense a hint of animosity at any point. She didn’t sense any feelings from him whatsoever. How could he possibly hate her enough to frame her for three murders? She has replayed the night she vented to Quinn about the roofer over and over in her mind. Quinn must have absentmindedly mentioned it to her brother, and he saw it as the perfect chance to once again murder someone connected to Heather. She also can’t help but wonder what it was that finally did him in. Did he think he was about to get caught? Mitch mentioned that he felt the cops were close to nailing a suspect, and at the time, Heather just assumed he was saying that to make her feel better. Maybe they were on Matt’s tail, and he sensed it, so he attempted to take his own life. If he survives, she cannot imagine how painful this trial is going to be if he doesn’t plead guilty. How will Quinn manage to sit in a courtroom each day and hear these horrible things her brother did? Particularly to Dottie, whom Quinn loved dearly.
The sun is just beginning to set as Heather walks through the automatic doors of the hospital. She lifts the flowers slightly to obscure the sight of her face from anyone in the waiting room. Quinn has already told her what room they are in, so she bypasses the front desk and takes a right. She’s relieved she doesn’t have to turn left, which would have immediately triggered memories of the night her parents died. Thankfully, the hospital has done some remodeling in the last decade or so, which makes it slightly less triggering for her. The hallways are decorated with black construction paper cutouts in the shape of bats and pumpkins carved with toothless grins. There are also Get Well Soon cards taped throughout the hall, and she smiles as she leans forward to see that they were drawn by elementary students from the local Catholic school.
She knows room 313 is on the corner, not because she knows the layout of the hospital, but because she can see an armed guard sitting outside. He stands as she approaches and she recognizes him as a boy, or man now, that she went to school with.
“Heather Green, good to see you out and about.”
“Hey Billy, it’s good to be out and about,” she replies with a smile.
“Well, we’ve actually got this asshole to thank,” he whispers, pointing his thumb toward the closed hospital door. “Maybe we can all get back to normal lives now that he’s been caught.”
She gives him a slight, uncomfortable smile.
“Sorry to say, I’m actually here to visit that asshole.”
He looks like he’s been slapped. Surprise turned to anger. His whisper is now loud enough to border on full volume. “You do know this man murdered three innocent people, and from what I hear, tried to pin it on you, right Heath?”
“It’s a long, complicated story, Billy.”
“Well, I can’t let you in any way. Sarge says family only.”
She’s not in the mood to argue with him. Or anyone, for that matter.
“Understandable. Would you mind just peeking your head in and telling Quinn I’m here? Maybe she can come out so I can say hello and give her these flowers I bought.”
He appears to consider it for a moment and apparently can’t think of a good enough excuse to refuse her request. He furrows his brow and nods before slowly opening the door, entering, and closing it behind him. After a minute or two, he reopens the door and has the unmistakable look of someone who was just berated by Jim Harstead.
“You can go in for a minute, but please make it quick. I’m not trying to lose my job.”
“Of course, Billy, I’ll be in and out,” Heather says, patting his arm as she passes him in the doorway.
Heather hugs Quinn and Jim, before awkwardly greeting Jessie. They don’t quite know each other well enough for an embrace, but Heather doesn’t want to appear cold or thoughtless. It also occurs to her in this moment that she should have brought two bouquets, but it’s too late for that now.
“For the room, I hope it brightens it up a bit,” Heather says, trying to save the situation.
“That’s incredibly kind of you,” Jessie says, accepting the flowers and placing them on a table by the window.
“What’s the latest?” Heather asks, turning her gaze to Matt. Aside from his bloated face and bruised neck, he appears to be sleeping. If it weren’t for the beeping machines and tubes everywhere, she’d never know he was in a coma. She stares hard at him and tries to figure out if she’s looking at the face of a murderer. She hasn’t been filled in on the evidence they found in Matt’s basement, but one of the officers who came to her house referred to it as “incredibly incriminating.” Could this be the man who murdered her beloved Dottie, a woman his sister also loved?
“They said it’s a waiting game. They did an MRI of his brain that shows evidence of what they call an anoxic injury. Even if he does wake up, there’s no telling the amount of brain damage he could have from the period that he was cut off from oxygen. Step one is him waking up, step two would be assessing the damage. Right now, we are just praying for him to wake up,” Quinn tells her.
Heather continues to stare at Matt, lying in the bed with one wrist in a handcuff. She thinks of how silly it is for these officers to handcuff him to the bed; do they honestly think he could just wake up and run off?
As she focuses on his face, she swears she sees his eyelids twitch. Quinn sees it, too, and explains, “They tell us those twitches are involuntary and nothing we should be overly excited about.”
Matt’s entire body stirs and Heather turns to Quinn to see if this also qualifies as involuntary. Quinn seems surprised to see his body moving. One of the machines begins beeping at a quicker pace and everyone in the room stares at the man lying in the bed before them. His eyes begin to flutter at a rapid speed, before opening wide. He looks panicked, his head and eyes darting in every direction, before looking down at the tubes coming out of his arms and the cuff on his left wrist. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. His eyes focus on Heather, and he begins slapping the bed wildly with his free hand, before lifting it and pointing his index finger directly at her. Every head in the room turns to her in horror.
“Me?” she gasps, her hand over her heart.
“You?” Jessie asks slowly, with a delirious look in her eyes. “You,” she repeats.