“We’ll have the doc at lockup look you over,” Detective Olson said, shoving Bart into the rear seat of his car.
The ride to the station in the front seat of the policeman’s car was warm, but they had to endure a constant barrage from Bart in the backseat. After Detective Olson called a couple of people, including someone about Bart’s injured eye, he told someone else to impound Bart’s car, then he turned to her.
“When you said you were onto another suspect, I got pretty worried about you,” Niles said. “I had no idea where you were and you weren’t answering your cell phone.”
Maybe she shouldn’t have turned the sound off. “The suspect I thought I was after wasn’t Bart. The guy I questioned, I mean talked to, is harmless. Unless you’re harmed by health food and too much exercise.”
As they drove, the storm started to let up. The flakes slowed to a few dozen at a time and they fell straight down. The wind had vanished.
“We’ve been keeping an eye on Fender for a few months,” said the detective. “So when I followed him to your place, it raised about a dozen red flags.”
“A few months? What for?”
“I’m sure the chief will make a public statement now that he’s in custody. I’m ninety-nine percent certain we’ll find what we need to nail him for both crimes in his trunk tonight.”
“For Ron’s murder?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He’s been selling steroids to his high school athletes. We were able to get three of them to flip two days ago. Before his shift at the pizza place, he picked up a new shipment. I was going to try to catch him in the act of distribution, but now we have him for murder. I’m sure North’s DNA will be in his car somewhere. I heard Fender mention putting him under the bush just now.”
Bart was howling so loudly behind them that Chase was certain he couldn’t hear anything they said.
“So Julie is free. Right?” She cut her eyes sideways.
His smile made the warm car even warmer. “Right. Chief is getting hold of the judge. Someone will call her and her lawyer and let them know the charges will be dropped in the morning.”
She slumped in the seat, suddenly so limp she could barely hold up her head.
THIRTY-SIX
When Chase finally got home that night and switched her phone on, she noticed that Julie had called. She had been required to turn her cell off while she was in the station giving her statement. Chase was tired down to the very middle of her melting bones, but she perked up when she realized she could give Julie the news.
“Jules! I just got home from the police station.”
“Oh no. Are you okay? What happened?”
“It’s a bit involved, but the end result is that Detective Olson arrested Bart Fender for the murder of Ron North and your case will be dismissed tomorrow.”
Chase had to hold the phone away from her ear when Julie whooped. Chase giggled with glee. How fun that no one else had told her yet and she got to break the news!
“I have to call Anna,” Julie said. “If only it wasn’t so late. I feel like celebrating and the roads are so bad.”
“Let’s do that tomorrow night.”
“Do you think Anna will feel like it? Her baking contest is the next day.”
“Sure.” Quincy jumped into Chase’s lap and his warm body felt heavenly after the cold police station. “She’ll need a distraction, don’t you think?”
“Maybe.” Julie sounded doubtful. “We can try, anyway.”
“Or maybe we should celebrate Saturday night. A double occasion. You getting off the hook and Anna winning the Batter Battle.”
“Oh, I hope she does. You think she will? I’m crossing my fingers for her,” Julie said. “I’ll come by your place tomorrow night at any rate. What time?”
“Anna was thinking of closing up early and getting ready for Saturday, but Mallory and Inger both said they would stay to work. I think Mallory is going out with Tanner later. So, I’m free early. Are you?”
“I took tomorrow off, not knowing how long I’d be in court.” Chase could hear a smile of relief in her voice.
Thinking of Bart brought the vision of Dillon, lying still and pale in her hospital bed, to Chase. “Maybe we could drop by the hospital and peek in on Dillon.”
“Excellent idea. Two? Two thirty?”
“Three. I’ll pick you up.”
Friday afternoon, Chase and Julie made their way slowly down the hospital corridor. They were both reluctant to complete their errand, even though they knew it was something they should do.
“At least Bart won’t be there,” Julie said.
“Why not?” said a man’s voice behind them.
Dillon’s father was on his way to the room with two cups of coffee.
“You haven’t heard the news?” Chase asked.
“We haven’t left Dillon’s side all day.”
Chase was extremely relieved Dillon’s parents hadn’t turned off her life support yet.
“Bart Fender was arrested for murder,” Julie said.
The man jiggled the cups and sloshed a bit of coffee onto the floor. A huge grin broke out on his fleshy face. It was transformed from the mask of sorrow, which was all Chase had ever seen, into a picture of joy. “Come on into the room. You need to tell my wife. We’ve talked about how unstable he was, so many times, trying to get Dillon away from him.”
Both parents were relieved to hear that Bart was out of the way.
“Never did really like him,” said Mrs. Yardley.
“We have some terrific news of our own,” Dillon’s father said after a sip of his coffee. “It’s so nice you came by. This is a good time.”
“Yes!” Her mother’s eyes sparkled. “Dillon’s brainwave has been picking up.”
Chase and Julie couldn’t help but notice the machines beside her bed. One showed a squiggly line that spiked a bit now and then.
Mrs. Yardley started to hum. Chase recognized the tune. “‘Happy Talk’?” she asked.
“Would you mind?” Mrs. Yardley said. “I’d like to sing it to her.”
“You can sing along if you’d like,” Mr. Yardley said. “I do sometimes.”
“She played Bloody Mary in the summer theater production of South Pacific a few years ago and she loves the song ‘Happy Talk.’”
“Of course,” Chase said.
Mrs. Yardley started and Chase joined in, when she could remember the words. There were a lot of them. Mr. Yardley hummed along and Julie was the spectator.
Chase wondered what the nurses and orderlies in the corridor thought.
“Wait! No, keep going,” Julie shouted. More softly, she added, “See? Her brain waves.”
The line was getting ziggier. Chase and Dillon’s mother kept singing. Mrs. Yardley tightened her grip on her daughter’s hand and Mr. Yardley had the other one. After two verses, Dillon’s eyelids fluttered.
Everyone in the room held their breath.
Dillon’s eyes closed again.
A nurse rushed in. “We have new activity.” She seemed excited, too.
Chase gaped when she saw the line on the EEG machine jumping up and down, bouncing like a manic yo-yo. She blinked to keep her tears from falling.
Dillon’s eyes opened again, found her mother’s face, and her lips moved. She mouthed the word “Mom,” then gazed slowly around the room.
The nurse looked at Chase and Julie apologetically. “I’ll have to ask you to leave. We’ve called the doctor. We’ll need to do an assessment.”
“Good luck,” the two women called to Dillon’s parents as they walked out the door. Two white-coated doctors rushed in a few seconds later.
Chase and Julie high-fived and left for Anna’s.
THIRTY-SEVEN