CHAPTER 20
Hannah ordered me to pull over. So, I did. Once we were parked, she turned to face me. “Now, what happened?”
I took several deep breaths and told her everything I’d heard. Even to my ears, it sounded bizarre. In retrospect, I realized that I hadn’t heard anything super damning. I hadn’t seen anyone. I thought I recognized Bradley Ellison’s and Jackson Abernathy’s voices. The fact that they were in Abernathy’s office made it highly probable that he was one of the three men. When I dissected it, what really happened?
“You need to report them to the police,” Hannah said.
“For what, calling me an airhead? Insulting someone isn’t a crime.”
“For threatening you.”
“Technically, all he said was if I got in his way again, he wouldn’t miss next time. He didn’t say it to my face. Maybe he meant, he wouldn’t miss sending me flowers or eating the last piece of chocolate cake. He didn’t say he wouldn’t miss shooting at me.”
“Well, you knew what he meant. I saw your face when you ran outta that building like the very hounds of hell were on your trail. You were shaking like a leaf.”
“It wasn’t so much what he said but how he said it. That’s what scared me. He was so calm.” I shivered.
Hannah pursed her lips. “Well, I still think you need to tell April.”
“I will. I’ll tell her later.” I took a couple of deep breaths and restarted the car. “Let’s go see how Michael’s doing.”
We drove to the hospital. I pulled up to the curb and let Hannah out and then parked. Inside, I met Hannah at the reception desk for the emergency room.
They’d removed the bullet, and Michael went home.
“How?”
“What?” the nurse asked.
“How’d he go home? I have his car.”
“No idea.”
I sent him a text.
Where r u?
Home. Where r u?
At the hospital looking 4 u.
I’m home.
How’d u get home? I have ur car.
Uber
I relayed the message to Hannah.
“I should have known his friend would take him home, too,” Hannah said.
I was tempted to explain that Uber wasn’t a person but decided to let it go. “Shall we go to your house?”
We turned, but I stopped and pointed to the gift shop. “Since we’re here, I’m going to get him a card and maybe a flower.”
We headed for the gift shop. For the first time since we set out, I felt awkward. Hannah was Michael’s grandmother. Grandmothers could bring flowers and balloons, and there wasn’t anything you could do. They were family. I didn’t have a title for my relationship to Michael. I wasn’t family. I wasn’t his girlfriend. Heck, I didn’t even know if he had a girlfriend. I was just the girl who kissed him when he was shot and bleeding. What kind of card do you buy for that? Sorry you got shot trying to protect me. Cordially yours, The woman you’ve known for less than two weeks but who kissed you when you were vulnerable.
“Maddy, what’s taking you so long to pick a card?” Hannah asked.
I grabbed a card and a peace lily and headed for the register.
Hannah stared. “You can’t give him that.”
I looked down at the plant. “Why not? What’s wrong with it?”
“They take those to funerals. Besides, he isn’t going to take care of a plant, and I’m going to have to be the one to try to keep it alive.”
I felt myself getting flushed. “I don’t really know him well enough to know what he would like and what he won’t like.”
Hannah took the lily from my hand. “He likes animals. He likes exercising, and he likes food. Now go pick something else.”
Like a child sent back to the board to redo a math problem, I headed back into the small gift shop to find something that would meet Hannah’s exacting standards. I circled the store and stopped when I got to a stand with paperback books. Most were older, well-known best sellers. There were a few thrillers, and I finally found my inspiration. This time, when I went to the cash register, my purchases passed Hannah’s scrutiny and I was allowed to pay.
I brought the car up to the door and picked up Hannah and then followed her directions.
From the road, I turned at a sign for the New Bison Animal Clinic. There was a small brick building with a gravel parking lot. Behind the building was a farmhouse. That’s where Hannah told me to go.
The farmhouse was white with dark green shutters. It was old but nice. And nothing like what I would have envisioned.
We entered the back door at the kitchen. Inside, Hannah dropped her purse on the counter. “Michael.”
“In the den.”
We followed the voice around a formal living room to a wood-paneled room that looked out onto what was probably a garden during the summer. I followed Hannah through the house. Once we were just outside of the room, I felt shy and hesitant, but Hannah barged in, dragging me with her.
Fortunately, Michael was sitting up on a well-worn sofa watching television. He smiled when he saw us. “Two of my favorite women.”
Hannah gave him a kiss and tight hug. “How’s your arm?”
He held it up. “Still attached. I tried to get the doctor to let me dig it out myself, but he wouldn’t let me.”
“Why did you want to dig it out yourself?” I asked.
“So I could keep it for a souvenir.” He grinned. “Actually, all gunshots have to be reported to the police, so I knew if he took the bullet out, then I wouldn’t be able to keep it.”
“Evidence?”
“Yeah, but I doubt that April will be able to match the bullet. If the shooter is smart, he’ll have pitched that gun into Lake Michigan by now.”
“Smart? If the shooter were smart, they wouldn’t have been shooting at us in the first place. If they’d just let us find Garrett Kelley strung from the ceiling, we might have thought he killed himself.”
“Maybe. I wonder why he didn’t.”
“Either we surprised him or . . .”
“Or what?”
Hannah looked vacant. “Mrs. Portman, are you okay?”
Michael rose to get up, but I stopped him. “I’ll help her if you tell me where to go.”
He pointed. “Down the hall and the first room on the left.”
“Mrs. Portman, I think you should lie down.” I helped her up from the sofa.
“Who are you?” she asked as we walked down the hall.
“My name is Madison. I’m Octavia’s great-niece.” I led her to a room that was decorated with pink. The walls were pink. The bedspread, curtains, carpet, and all the accessories were pink.
I removed her shoes and helped her lie down, and before I left the room, I could hear her snoring lightly. I turned off the light and closed the door.
Back in the den, I sat on a chair near the sofa.
“Thanks,” Michael said.
“You’re welcome. She was amazing today. It was the least I could do.”
“Can I get you something to drink?” He started to rise again.
Again I waved him back. “Absolutely not. You shouldn’t be waiting on me. You’re the one who’s been shot. Can I get you something?”
He held up a mug. “I’m good, thanks, but you know you don’t have to do this.”
“What?”
“Wait on me. I’m fine, really. The bullet hit me in the muscle. It was clean. No bone fractures. It didn’t hit anything important like a blood vessel. It’s basically just a puncture wound. They dug it out and patched me up. I didn’t even need stitches. I’m fine.” He grinned. “Although I kind of like the idea of you waiting on me, but . . . it really isn’t necessary.”
“Wait, they didn’t even put in stitches?”
He shook his head. “Nope. It’ll be a little sore for a few days, but I’m good. Now, what’s in the bag?”
I handed him the bag. “I thought you’d appreciate these.” I watched while he pulled out the books. “It’s Tom Clancy’s The Hunt for Red October and Stephen Coonts’s Flight of the Intruder. Both are great books.”
He grinned. “The fact that they’re both published by the Naval Institute Press didn’t have anything to do with your selections, I’m sure.”
“Really? Were they? I had no idea.” I feigned surprise. “Have you read them?”
“No. I’ve seen the movie with Sean Connery, but I haven’t read either of them, yet. Thank you.” He opened the card.
I decided to go simple. The card said Get Well Soon on the front. The inside was blank, but I’d written a note.
IOU one chocolate cake, plus a dozen thumbprint cookies
He rubbed his hands together. “Now, that’s a gift I can use. Thank you.”
“Your grandmother said you liked food, so . . .”
“I do like food. I like books, too.”
I glanced around.
“What are you looking for?”
“Nothing. It’s just that you’re a vet. I kind of expected that you’d have a dog or a cat or something.”
He smiled and stood up. “Come with me.”
I followed him out a side passage that led to an old garage. He stopped at the back door and pointed through the window.
The garage had been converted into an office. Inside, there was a three-legged Saint Bernard curled up on an old sofa. Two cats were sprawled on the desk, and a birdcage was near the window.
“Wow!”
“Those are just the ones I keep inside. I have two horses and a goat in the stable.”
“That’s a lot of animals.”
“Comes with the territory, I guess. I can’t just euthanize an animal because their owners can’t care for them anymore. So, the ones I can’t find homes for end up here.”
“That’s really . . .”
“Dumb?”
“I was going to say sweet.”
We stared in awkward silence. A shiver went up my spine.
“You’re cold,” he said. “We better go back into the house.” He turned and led the way back inside the main house, and I felt colder.
“I can’t stay long. I’ve got to pick up groceries, and I left Leroy baking. I just wanted to come and see how you were doing, and . . . I wanted to say thank you. You saved my life, and I owe you.”
“I’ll add it to your tab.”
Our eyes fixed, and I could feel the heat coming from my body. He leaned forward to kiss me, but at the last minute I took a step back.
“Well, it’s getting late, and I still have to pick up groceries. Tons of baking to do before tomorrow morning.”
His eyes held a question, but I couldn’t or wouldn’t answer. I wanted to say a hundred things. I wanted to tell him about my encounter at Abernathy’s. Instead, I said goodbye, turned, and walked out.
In the car, I put my head on the steering wheel. Michael Portman was a nice man. He saved animals, and he’d saved me. If I told him what I heard, he would keep helping me. He wouldn’t stop. He’d keep trying to help. THIS WE’LL DEFEND had been ingrained in him from his days in the Army. He’d defend with his life what he cared about. He’d proved that the other night at the bakery while someone was shooting at me. He’d taken a bullet and still gotten me out alive. Next time, the killer wouldn’t miss. I couldn’t risk that happening. This wasn’t even Michael’s fight. It had something to do with Jackson Abernathy, Brad Ellison, Paul Rivers, Garrett Kelley, and Aunt Octavia. And now me. Another shiver went up my spine when I realized that half of those people were now dead. I needed to figure out what was going on. Who murdered Paul Rivers and Garrett Kelley? And I needed to stop them. Or I knew in my heart that I’d be next.