I
sighed in relief when I saw Myrtle Beach in my rearview mirror. The morning news on the local television channel gave the story first billing and a full five minutes of coverage. Sheriff Barnes received more credit than he deserved. Nichols received little more than an acknowledgement that he was the lead investigator. I don’t think he cared, he looked uncomfortable in front of the camera in his ten second interview. They mentioned Streelman by name. Thankfully, the story only referred to me as a kidnap victim, not identifying me by name.
Earlier, during breakfast, I saw a number of the guys. Most seemed genuinely concerned for me. They all wanted to know what happened. I didn’t feel much like talking about it, but in the end, it was easier to do so than to try to fend off all the questions. So, while trying to eat breakfast, I had to relay the whole story to the group. Tom had already heard it in the room and readily filled in if I skipped over something too fast. I heard a few “poor James” but not too many. A few, up to last night’s incident, still didn’t believe that one of their own had killed Doug.
A couple of the guys surprised me by saying, “I thought it was him.” I felt like saying that they should have told the police, but I imagined there was a big possibility they were trying to impress the others and likely had no idea.
I didn’t see Viv. I wondered if she might find closure now, but does one more person dead really do that?
Streelman’s death freed us all to leave. I had to make a final statement at the police station, but we all knew there was little left to investigate. Despite having one day left, only two of the original sixteen planned to stay and play golf. I doubted if the group would return any time soon.
After being released from the hospital the night before, Louise had given me a ride back to the hotel. We both hinted around about going to her place to spend the night. I think we both wanted to, but she knew it would’ve been very unprofessional. She was answering a call about every five minutes on something about the investigation. Timing was terrible. For my part, I had the desire, but I also wanted desperately to take a hot shower and go to sleep.
I learned from Nichols that my pulling the branch out of Streelman’s shoulder is what likely resulted in his death. The branch had pulverized his collar bone and shattered his shoulder, but worse yet, it collapsed a large vein from his arm to his heart. When I removed the branch, the internal bleeding increased, and dirty river water washed into the large open wound. The proximity of the wound to his heart also had something to do with the severity of the infection.
If I hadn’t removed the branch, I couldn’t have pulled him out of the car. If I left him in the car, he would’ve drowned. Besides, he put us in that situation. No way I would feel guilty over his death, but still, somewhere in the back of my mind, it did bother me. The whole thing was senseless, stupid. He ruined a lot of people’s lives, and now, his suffering was over. All this for love.
A strange thought crossed my mind. For some reason, I wondered if both of his families would show up at his funeral. I don’t know why I was bothered by this. It had nothing to do with me, and I imagined the thought was some kind of collateral emotional damage that would bother me for a while. A shrink would have a field day with me, but for now I knew I would suffer alone.