My lungs felt like they didn’t have enough space to hold the air I needed. “You think someone hurt Noah because he owed them money?”
Russ rubbed both hands over his head, making his hair even more mad-scientist than it was before. “Noah’s been attending meetings, but it wouldn’t be the first time he slipped. And every time he does, he ends up owing more. He worked at Quantum Mechanics before coming to Sugarwood, and he got himself fired from that job for stealing to pay off some of his debts.”
What had Uncle Stan been thinking, hiring a gambler with a history of theft? As soon as I asked myself the question, I knew the answer. Uncle Stan had been a struggling addict. His heavy drinking destroyed his heart. He’d have wanted to give Noah a second chance, too.
“Has he slipped since he came to Sugarwood?”
Russ visibly flinched. “Just once. The night the old sugar shack burned down, he found you ’cause he was coming home late from a poker game.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have demanded Russ tell me. How was I supposed to trust Noah now? I hit the unlock button and climbed out of the truck. “Let’s see what the doctor says about his injuries.”
This could all have been a horrible accident. It’d still leave us back at negligence, and that prospect wasn’t much better. On days like this, I wished life came with a do-over button.
Russ and I entered the hospital, and while he asked after Noah at the desk, I ducked into the nearest bathroom and washed Noah’s blood off my hand. I scrubbed long after all the traces of red were gone, but I could still feel it there.
When I came out, Russ waved me over. “The nurse says they can’t tell us anything about Noah’s condition since we aren’t family, but I gave her the name of his cousin. Once Oliver gets here, I’m sure he’ll fill us in.”
Oliver wasn’t a name I recognized, so I wasn’t counting on anything on my behalf, but Russ seemed to have a connection to nearly everyone in the town. I swear, if the man had run for mayor, he would have won.
I slouched down in one of the hard plastic waiting room chairs, and Russ took the one next to me.
Instead of leaning back, he perched on the edge. He swallowed hard, making his Adam’s apple bob, opened his mouth, and snapped it shut again.
I sat straight up in my seat. He looked like he wanted to say something more, and that I’d like it even less than what he’d already told me.
I hated suspense. Once I had all the facts, I could make plans and develop strategies. I could be proactive.
Uncertainty made me want to scale a rock cliff with my bare hands. “What is it?”
Russ avoided making eye contact. “I think we should call Mark.”
The muscles in my stomach spasmed like I’d done too many sit-ups. For over a month now, I hadn’t had any contact with Mark beyond a cordial nod when we saw each other at church. And every smile I had to fake when I saw him or heard him mentioned still hurt like I’d slammed my hand into a lit burner on the stove. If I was ever going to stop wishing circumstances had been different, that he wasn’t married, I couldn’t have anything to do with him. Hadn’t we just been talking about addictions? Mark was mine, and one sip could not only knock me off the wagon but drag me behind it as well.
Russ held up his hand in a wait, wait gesture. “He’s the county medical examiner. He’s seen more intentional injuries than any doctor here, and he’ll know better than whatever ER doctor Noah gets whether someone could have done this to him or if it was accidental.”
Part of me wanted to plant my hands over my ears and hum like a petulant child. Russ’ explanation made complete sense, and if the county medical examiner were anyone but Mark, I might have even thought to suggest it myself.
Russ glanced to his left and then past me, as if making sure no one was within hearing distance. He leaned toward me. “Look, Nikki, whatever happened between you two, it isn’t worth staying upset over this long. I’ve lost enough people I loved to know that much at least. I’ve got to live the rest of my life with the regrets I have over your Uncle Stan and me being on the outs when he died. You and Mark…” He shook his head. “It’s been years since I’d seen him as happy as he was since you came around.”
Ripples of guilt swirled around inside me. For hurting Mark. For not confiding in Russ. But my decision to end my friendship with Mark before it turned into an adulterous relationship had been the right one. I wasn’t going back on it.
I could at least explain the truth to Russ and then he’d drop the matter. I hadn’t wanted to initially because I was afraid it would remind him of mistakes he’d made in the past. Perhaps I should have told him because he, of all people, would understand my decision. Both of us were trying very hard not to repeat our past mistakes.
“Mark didn’t do anything wrong. I just—”
Russ jumped to his feet. “There’s Oliver. I’ll be right back.”
He waddled over to a man who’d entered the ER waiting room.
I picked at my thumbnail, a habit my mom had always found unladylike and my dad called a sign of weakness. It figured that, when I finally got up the courage to admit why I’d broken off my seemingly innocent friendship with Mark, we’d be interrupted.
Russ led the man back over to where I waited. I got to my feet.
“Nicole, this is Oliver Miller, Noah’s cousin.”
I rubbed at my eyes to make sure I wasn’t mistaken. Oliver Miller was Owl Man, the dispatcher who’d been on duty at the police station the night I hit a body in a snowstorm. He wore the same large round glasses and wide-eyed expression he had then, but instead of the uniform that I’d mistakenly thought was a police uniform at the time, he now wore the classic grease-stained powder-blue coveralls of Quantum Mechanics. He looked close to Noah in age.
Oliver absently shook my hand. I couldn’t be sure if he recognized me or not, but I couldn’t blame him for being distracted.
“Do we know what room Noah will be in yet?” he asked.
“I’ll go with you to the desk to ask,” Russ said.
Russ clapped a hand on his shoulder. It looked a little awkward with the height difference between them—Russ was closer to my height than he was to Oliver’s—but Oliver seemed to appreciate it.
He gave Russ a weak smile. “Thanks.”
They headed for the check-in desk, and I tucked my hands between my knees. Maybe it was all the talk of Mark, or maybe it was seeing how worried Oliver was over Noah, but I suddenly felt that hollowed-out sensation in the pit of my stomach. The only family I had in the world were my parents out in Washington, DC. One day they’d be gone, and then there’d be no one to come rushing to the hospital if anything happened to me. My best friend Ahanti was like a sister, but even she was in Virginia and soon to be married. It’s not like she’d always be able to drop everything and fly halfway across the country.
My life was definitely not the way I’d imagined it would be by the time I was thirty.
I gave myself a mental shake. I might not have everything I wanted, but I loved Sugarwood, and I was finally figuring out what I really wanted from life. That had to count for something.
Russ and Oliver were gone for nearly forty-five minutes before I spotted Russ heading back in my direction.
Once he got closer, Russ waved for me to join him. “The doctor’s ready to talk to Oliver, and Oliver’s good with us coming along.”
We met Oliver at the elevator and rode up two floors. A small headache blossomed in a line above my eyebrows as we rode, and I massaged my fingers into the space. Logically, I knew that all the terrible things that had happened in Fair Haven since I’d first arrived weren’t my fault, but on a less rational level, I couldn’t help feeling a bit like a harbinger of doom. Noah only added to the body count.
The doctor waited outside the door of Noah’s room. I peered inside while Oliver gave his consent for the doctor to explain Noah’s condition with Russ and me present. Wires trailed off of Noah like tentacles, and a white bandage covered his head.
The doctor rubbed his chapped red hands together like constant washing had turned it into a tic. “Noah’s head wound caused some fluid to build up around his brain. We relieved the pressure, but we can’t know yet what permanent damage might have been done or if he’ll regain consciousness.”
I looked back into Noah’s room again. I couldn’t quite make the words sink in. He looked peaceful, like he was sleeping. The idea that he might not ever wake up didn’t seem real.
Oliver lifted his glasses and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I need a minute,” he said.
He moved down the hallway instead of into Noah’s room, putting plenty of space between himself and us.
I exchanged a glance with Russ and nudged my chin forward. With Oliver out of earshot, now was a good time to ask the doctor about the nature of Noah’s injuries. If they seemed perfectly normal, then we’d have avoided upsetting Oliver more by suggesting anything otherwise. And I could rest easier that Elise wouldn’t be knocking on my door later, wanting to continue our interview.
Russ jiggled the keys in his pocket. “Were you able to tell what caused Noah’s injuries?”
“Injury, singular.” The doctor looked back over his shoulder at where Oliver had gone as if he wasn’t sure whether or not his permission to speak in front of us extended to sharing information he hadn’t already told the family. “He had one blow to the back of the head. The EMTs who brought him in said he was found in a horse stall, so the most probable cause is that he was kicked or knocked down and he hit his head on something.”
If he’d been kicked, shouldn’t he have had at least two wounds, one from the initial blow and a second when his head hit the ground?
I wasn’t a doctor—that was probably the one thing I would have been worse at than being a lawyer, since squeamish didn’t begin to describe my reaction to things being outside that belonged inside. But as a lawyer, I knew a logical fallacy when I heard one. Growing up with my parents, I could identify fallacious arguments before I could multiply. Noah’s doctor was assuming correlation proved causation. Just because Noah was found in a horse stall didn’t necessarily mean the horse had contributed to his injuries. The nature of the injuries themselves should lead to the determination of what had caused them.
“Did the shape and size of the wound support that?” I asked. “Or could something else have caused his head wound?”
The doctor looked down at me over the top of his glasses, the crinkles in his forehead forming three wavy horizontal lines. “There’s no need to unnecessarily complicate this by coming up with wild theories. The simplest solution is usually the right one.”
My mother’s firm voice played in my head. As a woman, you’ll always have to fight harder to be taken seriously.
But maybe it wasn’t a woman thing. Maybe it was a young person thing or a you’re-not-a-doctor thing. Or maybe the man simply had a sizeable ego and didn’t like to be questioned. I didn’t want to make it about gender if it wasn’t.
Unfortunately, any of those reasons left me blockaded, and I didn’t have a good way to signal Russ to push the matter. He’d have needed more than a firm look to convince him to do anything. The man wasn’t just reluctant to rock the boat. He was afraid to even ripple the water.
“Now,” the doctor pursed his lips, “if you’ll excuse me, I need to discuss options and outcomes with the actual family.”
He strode down the hall to where Oliver was despite Oliver’s request for some time alone. I almost went after him to distract him longer, but the expression on Russ’ face stopped me.
His bottom lip hung down and his furry eyebrows slanted in, forming a valley of disbelief between his eyes. “He sounds like he’s guessing about the cause of Noah’s injury.”
I could almost hear him thinking this is why we should have called Mark. I chewed on the inside of my cheek. Maybe I was being selfish and childish. It wasn’t like Mark coming to check on Noah would mean we had to renew our friendship. We could meet in a professional capacity, civil without being friendly. And if the doctor wasn’t going to actually investigate the cause of Noah’s injury, then what other choice did we have? Noah’s injuries might be accidental. In that case, we should focus on getting him better and worry about why it happened and making sure it didn’t happen again once he was healed.
But if someone had attacked him, the police needed to know. That person might come back to finish the job once they found out Noah had survived.
I swallowed to moisten my suddenly dry mouth. “I think it’s time to call Mark.”