Chapter forty-six

Sam woke later that afternoon to sunlight flitting through the window’s shades. Within minutes, Dr. Henderson marched in with his entourage.

“Good afternoon, Mr. McClellan. Let’s take another look at that leg and get you on it again.”

A second technician, a male this time, entered the room with a pair of crutches for Sam to try. He adjusted them to fit Sam when he saw how tall Sam was.

“I want you to start slowly, get the feel of these things first,” Dr. Henderson explained. “No races, if you please. Your leg is going to take several weeks to heal, but you’ll need to start therapy so you don’t forget how to use it. Now, let’s get you out of bed. Exercise is important for you.”

Dr. Henderson’s entourage got to work removing tubes and the catheter. After twenty minutes of fussing with bandages, they left the room with various admonitions about going slowly and resting often. The nurse said if he were a good patient, Sam would be released that evening.

And that was all the encouragement Sam needed. Cautiously, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and propped himself up using the crutches. He struggled to arrange the scant hospital gown, then took his first tentative step.

At first, Sam did exactly as he was told, hobbling slowly around the room. Soon, he had the hang of using crutches, so he headed for the intensive care unit. He felt up for company. Sam hoped Chuck did too.

Dosher Hospital is a narrow two-story affair. Like its larger cousins, it shares an antiseptic smell, but it is easily navigated because of large signs and limited departments vying for a patient’s attention.

Sam found the intensive care unit. He tried his best to look casual as he hobbled the corridor of glassed rooms until he found Chuck, being attended to by a technician or a nurse; Sam couldn’t tell which. He waited for the technician to leave, then slipped in beside Chuck’s hospital bed. He eased himself into a small chair. Chuck had more wires attached to him than an old computer.

“Chuck, it’s me. Sam McClellan. Just checking on you, man.”

Cracking open a swollen, bruised eye, Chuck’s battered mouth twisted into what Sam guessed was a pained smile.

“Sam. You look like you should be in the hospital.”

“Yeah, I know.” At least Chuck still had a sense of humor. “Chuck, I need you to tell me what happened after you and Mike left the gallery.”

The slight smile left Chuck’s face. “Oh, that. Sam, I’m really tired now. Can this wait?”

“No, it can’t. I need to know exactly what went down. I’m guessing since you were beaten to a bloody pulp and left for dead, you weren’t part of the original plan.”

Chuck closed the one eye he could open. “I didn’t know anything about Lisa’s…involvements until you had your little visit with the chief. It was far more than I wanted to know.” Chuck sighed heavily. “I was raging. Mike caught sight of me and grabbed me by the arm. I blurted that I was going to the gallery to put a stop to Lisa’s messing around. I really thought that’s what it was all about.

“When we got there, you and your girlfriends were already having a field day. I didn’t want to believe any of what I overheard Chief tell you, but when I saw Lisa’s suitcase full of dough, I knew he was telling the truth.”

“Did you know Tripp was her half-brother?”

“Yeah, I knew. But I was clueless about his operation until I saw him on the gallery floor beaten by…what’s your girlfriend’s name? We weren’t formally introduced on our little side trip to Southport.”

“Molly. And she’s really just a friend. Tripp killed her brother, and she wanted revenge. What happened when you left the gallery?”

Well, I put Lisa in cuffs, took her into the office, and was going to take her out the back door, like Mike suggested. Mike cuffed Tripp. Or at least I thought he had. They came into the office too. When I heard a commotion in the front gallery, I moved around the desk to see. Then Mike hit me on the head with the butt of his gun. The next thing I know, I’m down below on a fast-moving boat, my hands cuffed in front of me.”

“Who was with you?”

“Molly and Jenny were down below with me. I had no idea who was topside at that point, except Andy and Lisa were making out right there where I could see.”

“What happened then?”

“Molly pretended to fall on me when we stopped for fuel. She transferred a gun to me. I don’t know where she got it. She took her time getting up, like she was giving me time to get ready. I propped myself up against the pedestal of a table behind her.

“Then Andy came down the companionway steps. Molly leaned way over to the right and I got off one shot, but missed. Andy tackled me. I think he would have killed me, but Lisa stopped him, believe it or not. I don’t remember anything beyond that.”

Sam replayed the scene in the gallery. Molly had grabbed Tripp’s gun and tucked it in her jeans. Good for her! Why Tripp didn’t remember he’d lost it was irrelevant.

“Huhum.”

Sam looked around at a stern-faced nurse clearing her throat.

“Visiting hours are over,” she said without stripping her stare from Sam.

“I was just leaving.” Sam nodded to Chuck and put his hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Chuck. Get better.”

“Thanks, Sam. You didn’t tell me what happened to you.”

Sam didn’t have the heart to tell Chuck about Lisa’s marksmanship. “I’ll tell you on our next visit. You take care.”

As Sam exited, he saw two carbon copies of Chuck coming down the hall. His twin sons. Of course. They were home from college. Sam was glad they’d be able to help Chuck heal.

As Sam hobbled down the hall, he thought through everything he’d done since Lee’s murder. He played the “what-if” game again, knowing that his scenarios were irrelevant at this point.