Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

 

Grace finally heard the car’s engine coming down the road; getting louder as it came closer. She again grabbed Casey by the collar and the two of them ducked down behind another tree; waiting to make sure it wasn’t Michael coming for her. When she saw the police car come around the corner, with another car following close behind, the relief she felt was indescribable. With the last little bit of energy she had left, she walked out onto the road and waved down the police car; the other car pulling off to the side of the road and parking as well. As soon as they rolled to a stop, she dropped to her knees right on the road; all the fear and exhaustion she had been feeling coming to a head.

The Weston deputy got out of his car and walked over to her, but it wasn’t until she saw Detective Scheffield step out of the other car that she just let go of everything she had been feeling and began to cry uncontrollably. The detective ran over to her; picking her up off the road and putting his arms around her; not knowing what else to do to comfort her. It was obvious that she had been through an ordeal; though what he was imagining didn’t come close to the truth when she finally got around to telling it. The two stood in one spot for a while until she was able to speak through sobs; spilling her guts right where they stood and telling him everything. All he could do was hold her and listen to her astonishing story.

The detective explained the situation the best he could to the Weston deputy; the poor fellow wearing a look the entire time that said that he had never in his life been involved in something so unbelievable. One would think that a deputy in a small town such as this would get excited about playing a role in a soap opera like the one unfolding before him, but he looked like he would rather be anywhere than where he was right now. Detective Scheffield had just blown his mind and it showed on the small town officer’s face. He thanked the detective profusely when he told him that he could handle it from here and wasted no time in climbing back into his car and heading back to the safety of the sheriff’s office; though he wouldn’t be there for long. He had to turn around and go right back out to look for Michael.

The detective helped Grace to the car; actually picking her up and carrying her the last ten feet or so when he realized how unsteady on her feet she was. Grabbing a cold bottle of water from a cooler in the trunk, he handed it to her as she sunk down on the front seat of his car; completely spent and so relieved to be safe that she just sat there and cried; hugging her dog, who had starting wagging her nub of a tail furiously when she saw the detective’s familiar face and noticed the tension in Grace melt away the moment she saw him. Casey was ushered into the backseat when he could break the two up and he closed the passenger side door; ready to take her home again. He could get an official statement from her once she had been seen by a doctor to make sure there was nothing more seriously wrong than possible heat exhaustion and dehydration; and to tend to the numerous scrapes and scratches she had acquired during her daring escape. He couldn’t help but think that she would still be out there – hunted – if he hadn’t asked the Weston deputy to show him where her car had been found. He was beginning to believe in fate for the first time in his life. What other explanation was there? he asked himself.

The ride back to Aurora wasn’t very long; though she wouldn’t have cared how long it was, honestly. She was finally allowing herself to feel all the emotions that she had shut down the previous day in order to survive the harrowing experience. Now she was ready to begin exploring the reality of what had happened; what Michael had really done and why he had done it. She was aware that she may never get all the answers to the multitude of questions she had, but she thought she deserved an explanation for what he had put her through and she wanted it. All she could do was stay safe and wait for Michael to be found by the police. He couldn’t have gotten that far on foot, she thought; so he had to still be in the area.

The Weston police now faced the problem of having a fugitive lurking somewhere in or around their town; having to call in the state police as well because the small sheriff’s office was not equipped to deal with this sort of situation; just like what happened in Aurora when Genevieve and Adrienne were shot. Detective Scheffield dispatched as many of his own officers as could be spared to drive to the other town and aid in the search. He knew that it was out of their jurisdiction and no one from Aurora could make the official arrest, but that mattered little. Everyone from the two towns were willing to work together to combat this problem; each one realizing the importance of finding this guy. He was clearly capable of breaking the law without a second thought, so bringing him to justice was first and foremost in their minds. They were all equally determined not to let Michael Stranahan slip through their fingers.

When Grace arrived at the hospital she was more interested in seeing her cousin than being checked out by a doctor herself, but the doctor and nurses convinced her that it wouldn’t take long to look her over. She desperately needed fluids – being dangerously dehydrated due to the heat and her physical exertion, however there wasn’t really anything more that concerned them other than cleaning her wounds and bandaging the deeper cuts she had received in the woods. She actually fell right to sleep when the nurse put in the IV and got the fluids started; exhausted beyond belief. Of all the things that she had been through in her life, she didn’t ever remember feeling as tired as she felt when her head hit the pillow on the hospital bed. Her visit with Adrienne could certainly wait long enough for her to get some sleep. Neither of the women would be leaving the hospital that night.

She slept soundly for hours; this time not plagued by any dreams at all. There were no cryptic messages she was supposed to be receiving right now; all she had to do was rest and recover from the terrifying experience through which she had just been. Adrienne’s condition was improving every day, too. Her cousin hadn’t seen her for a couple of days; didn’t see the constant fluttering of her eyelids as her brain worked while she slept or the way she had been moving her arms and legs. Every report from her doctor was better than the last. In fact, her doctor’s prognosis now was that she could probably live a full life with the bullet still in her head; she would simply have to be careful not to engage in any activities that would pose a threat to her; which left her plenty of leeway. His professional opinion was that if there were no obvious signs of brain damage when she awoke, she could plausibly make a full recovery.

The first face Grace saw when she opened her eyes was Jesse’s concerned face. Detective Scheffield had kept his promise and called him the moment they arrived at the hospital. He had done his best to explain what had happened; for Jesse knew nothing of the torment she had endured or who had inflicted it upon her. The detective left out the specifics; leaving that conversation for her out of respect for the fact that she might not want him to know every sordid detail of her ordeal.  Still, when he found out, he was so angry he wanted to go find Michael Stranahan himself and deal with the situation differently than the police were planning to handle it, but at the last minute stopped himself; thinking that his time would be more well spent being there for her and helping in any way that he could.

The police from both towns were already hard on the case of catching the perpetrator anyway. It was two small towns, neither of whom were accustomed to dealing with criminals of this caliber. Aside from the suicide of Grace’s mother years ago, the worst thing the officers normally faced was clearing the streets of people who were drunk in public and solving domestic squabbles; things of that nature. They were not used to things like Genevieve’s murder – like people getting shot at all – or having a sociopath lurking in their towns; kidnapping innocent women at gunpoint.

Still the situation had to be dealt with; whether it was comfortable for them or not. Ten officers from Aurora and the state police as well as every deputy in Weston headed into the woods; each man vowing to find Michael Stranahan and bring him to justice. It was another scorcher of a day, but at least they were all equipped with plenty of water; something Grace had not had during her dash for freedom. They all lined up at the tree line and each began walking forward into the forest slowly; looking at the trees and on the ground for any signs that he had crossed the respective spots at any point in his chase.

She had told Detective Scheffield that she was certain the car had been parked close to the beach because it didn’t take her long to reach the water. It had taken her longer to make it from the water to the tiny cave in which she had spent a sleepless night and from the cave to the road on which she was found wandering the following day; looking for help anywhere she could find it. It was from that point – on the road where she had been found – forward that the police began searching. Though this was not an average assignment for any of them, they were all extremely thorough in their search of the land. They were determined to find him in those woods, that day; whatever was necessary to get that job done being precisely what they planned to do.

Walking at a snail’s pace, they all checked for footprints, broken twigs on the ground, disturbed branches on the many trees, or any other clue that told them someone had been there. Of course there were many sets of footprints along the roadway, but those quickly died off as they walked further into the trees; only finding disturbed earth due to animal paw prints, not human footprints. This was no deterrent, though. No one was discouraged at the lack of evidence that was being found; only determined to find the evidence they were positive existed in those woods. It had been quiet so far; until Weston Deputy Sam Mitchell called out, excitedly, “I think I got something here, guys!”

The sheriff of the small town, John Jacobs, walked over to where he was standing; along with several other officers; all of which were careful not to disturb any potential clue or clues on the ground around them. Sheriff Jacobs knelt down to inspect more closely the footprints his deputy had found. The footprints left in the soft earth clearly belonged to a man. They were very large; certainly much too big to belong to any woman – much less Grace and her petite frame. There were a set of prints facing the road ahead, so if they were made by Michael he had gotten very close to catching her again. It was only luck that she had been rescued in time.

Then the set of prints turned and started to walk in the opposite direction; away from town and toward the water. So they followed them until they began to fade out where the ground was dry and much harder. Not really sure where to go from there, they decided to split up once more and so each walked in a different direction. Deputy Mitchell was the one officer who kept walking in the direction the prints had been heading. Every so often, it was obvious that the ground had been traversed. There were lighter prints and actually a fairly large snapped branch on the ground that would have had to have been stepped on by something heavy; heavier than any animal walking around out there. It wasn’t a whole lot to go on, but it was something, thought the inexperienced deputy.

So he just kept going in the same direction; trying to keep in as straight a line as possible. Eventually he began to hear the splash of the water as the waves broke and knew he was almost to the beach. He didn’t know it before he got there, but it was the same beach Grace had described coming upon the first day. He was alone at this point; everyone having gone in different directions to cover more ground faster. As he got closer, he could make out some sort of figure lying on the sand; water lapping at one end of whatever it was. He pulled out his radio; ready to call for backup if needed, though the figure did not appear to be moving at all.

The young officer finally made it to the end of the trees and the beginning of the sand; able to tell at this point that the figure lying on the beach was definitely a person. He got on the radio and called for help from more officers; not sure yet with what they were dealing. Then he sped up his pace a little; calling out to the motionless person as he came.

“Police! Don’t move!” he yelled as he drew his gun from its holster on his side; getting no response at all; no movement or voice calling back to him.

“Police!” he called out again; though he knew that wasn’t really necessary by the time he got within about six feet or so of the body…the dead body.

He got back on the radio to let them know he was all right; that there was no need to hurry because the person he had found was clearly dead. Thinking about it, he wasn’t happy he told them to take their time; not wanting to be alone with a dead body for very long. The cause of death was obvious in this case. It didn’t take a medical examiner to tell Deputy Mitchell that the man had been shot in the temple and been killed instantly. One didn’t need a degree to decipher this one, either; that the man had most likely died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. There was no sign of a struggle anywhere around. It was clear he had been the only person on the beach at the time of his death.

It didn’t take long for the other officers to arrive; most of them hanging back a little so they wouldn’t have to see the body that closely. The Weston sheriff took it upon himself to check for a pulse; placing two fingers on his neck over the carotid artery. There was clearly no blood flowing through the man’s veins and his body temperature was cool compared to the rising temperature outside; telling the sheriff that he had been dead for at least a few hours. If the footprints near the road belonged to this man – and this man turned out to be Michael – then he did get frighteningly close to catching Grace. The prints were only a thousand feet or so from where Deputy Mitchell and Detective Scheffield had pulled over to pick her up.

After calling for the medical examiner to come retrieve the body, Weston Sheriff John Jacobs gave Detective Scheffield a call to inform him of their discovery; certain that the news would please him. It appeared to be an open-and-shut case of suicide and it wasn’t hard to imagine what his reasons were for doing it. He had obviously not found Grace after she ran from the car the day before; her being safe and sound in the hospital; with an officer planted right outside her door just in case. Perhaps he saw her being picked up by the police and knew that he was out of options; particularly if he had gone back to find the car at any point and noticed that missing as well. There was no suicide note, so the explanation for his actions would forever remain a secret. It would be left up to one’s imagination to figure it out – as best one could with such limited information.

Detective Scheffield was quite happy to hear the news. Though the body had not been officially identified, everyone felt sure that it was Michael Stranahan. It certainly sounded like him from the description he had been given by Sheriff Jacobs; sounding almost identical to the one Grace had given him when she was found. Now he was on his way to the hospital to deliver the news to her in person. He felt that she deserved that after what she had endured. He was sure she wouldn’t really be happy about it; being the kind and gentle person that she was; a person that didn’t want anyone hurt or killed if possible. The detective thought, at the very least, it would allow her to sleep more soundly when she did return home; home being the place from which she was kidnapped.

He told the officer standing post outside her hospital room that he was free to get back to his day; this pleasing the man who wore a very bored expression on his face. Walking through the door; he found Grace wide awake talking to Jesse; even smiling up at him when she saw him walk in. He turned to Jesse and gave him a nod in greeting; Jesse nodding back at him. Then he broke the bittersweet news to her.

“How are you feeling, Grace?” he asked; genuinely interested in hearing the answer.

“I feel okay. Tired but good.” she answered. “What brings you here, detective?”

“I have some news about Michael Stranahan.” he began; Grace and Jesse both leaning in waiting for the next sentence to come out of his mouth. “We found him on the beach; probably the same one you described to me.”

“And?...” she prodded.

“He’s dead, Grace. It looks like a suicide – gunshot wound to the left temple. Was he left-handed?” he inquired of her.

“Yes…yes, he was left-handed. Why do you ask?” she replied.

“He was shot in the left temple, so he would have had to shoot himself with his left hand.” explained the detective.

“Oh. Okay…thank you, detective. Thanks for letting me know.” she said; wearing a perplexed look on her pretty but scratched face. She couldn’t help but think about the fact that the answers she wanted died along with him.

“Well, I thought you deserved to know. I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.” he responded; turning and nodding to Jesse again before saying his goodbyes to her and walking out of the room.

Grace and Jesse simply turned and looked at each other; amazed by the news they had just received. He was happy on the inside; having had the desire to take care of Michael Stranahan himself, but he kept that to himself. He knew what kind of person she was and it wasn’t the type that enjoyed hearing of others’ misery. In her heart, she didn’t want anything bad to happen to him – aside from being arrested and jailed for kidnapping her. She had never once wished him dead; only for him to leave her alone. So he allowed her to grieve without commenting on it. He felt it was best to let her handle things her own way; which was sometimes a very different way than others did. But Grace had always done things just a little bit differently. He was okay with that; it made her who she was today.

She took the news of his suicide hard; though she did her best to try to hide that from her best friend. Of course she was disappointed because she desperately wanted to know why he had done this to her, but in some strange way his death saddened her. She just kept thinking, what a waste. What a waste of a smart and talented man; a kind man, she had believed. He had always been kind to her; up until the night he broke into her house, intending to take her with him when he left. Never would she have conceived of him doing anything like what he had done; tying her up and putting her in the trunk of her car; despite his intimate knowledge of her severe claustrophobia. She would never have pictured him traipsing through the woods at night with a gun – hunting her, but he did. He did all those things and she would simply have to come to terms with that somehow. She had no choice but to live with the aftermath of his actions.

Grace slept quite soundly that night; despite the news about Michael’s suicide upsetting her. It was confusing for her, though, because she now realized that her decision to leave him had been a good one; yet she couldn’t help but think that if she had never left him, none of this would have happened and he would still be alive. Still, she slept; the exhaustion taking precedence over her emotions. She awoke to a different day the next morning – and the first thing she wanted to do was visit her cousin; still in a coma due to the bullet taking up residence in her head.

She couldn’t believe how much better she looked in just the span of a couple days. Her cheeks were once again flushed with color; along with her full lips which were nearly blood red on their own. The crude bandages wrapped around her head had been removed and only a small one remained; covering only the point of entry of the slug. She laughed a little out loud when she imagined how unhappy Adrienne would be when she woke up and discovered that they had shaved off a patch of her beautiful, long, black hair. It was so thick that no one would even be able to notice, she thought to herself. That would truly be the least of her cousin’s worries when she finally did rejoin the waking world. There was so much more than that that she was going to have to find a way with which to live.

It did Grace’s heart good to see Adrienne looking more and more like her Addie every day. She desperately needed her back in her life right now. There were so many things she wanted to tell her when she woke up she was about to burst holding it in. She was telling her now what had just happened to her; all about Michael and what he put her through; when Adrienne squeezed her hand…hard. So excited she wasn’t sure what to do, she asked her cousin if she could hear her and told her again to squeeze her hand once for yes and twice for no…and she squeezed it hard again one time; Adrienne’s way of telling her that, yes, she heard every word. Part of her wanted to go find the doctor and tell him what she did, but she remembered what he had told her the last time she did that; that they simply weren’t sure if it was a deliberate action or an involuntary response to stimuli. She knew, though. She knew her cousin was trying to find her way back from wherever she had been since that terrible Saturday morning.

She sat by her cousin’s side for a long time; talking to her and asking her questions; actually getting a reaction to nearly every question. Adrienne would either squeeze her hand once or twice when asked something or move her entire arm a bit when she could. Grace also noticed almost constant movement in both legs; not exactly kicking, but definitely not sitting still. All of these things were giving her hope for her cousin’s recovery, but also making her impatient for that to happen. She wished more than anything to have her back in her life; for the two of them to start a brand new life together at their house – Devereaux Downs. It was to happen sooner than she thought.

It was getting late and she was still tired and sore from her ordeal, so she decided it was time to go home. The hospital had discharged her before she even went to visit Adrienne; she was free to go at any time. The one thing she did know was that – despite her captor no longer posing a threat – she was not going to stay at that big house alone for the first few nights. She could already imagine the nightmares she probably faced and didn’t want to wake up alone and scared. Jesse would again be staying with her; him of course not having any problem with that at all. Honestly, he would probably move in with her permanently if she asked him to do so.

About to leave her cousin for the night, she leaned down to give her a kiss on her pretty cheek. As she was raising her head, she heard something; a weak whisper or a moan coming from her cousin. Not sure what she had heard, she leaned in close and called her name; again hearing some sort of mumbling noise come from her mouth. She studied her face carefully; her cousin’s eyelids fluttering as she struggled in an attempt to open them. Grace called her name again and again she mumbled something indiscernible. Only this time, her eyelids fluttered and then…she opened her eyes slowly for the first time in a week. Grace watched as she blinked several times; trying to focus on her and on her surroundings; clearly confused by what she saw; everything but her cousin. She blinked her eyes more; finally looking directly at her.

“Grace?” she asked in a soft, weak voice.

“Oh God, Addie! You’re awake! You’re really awake!” she exclaimed; tears of happiness pouring from her eyes and running down her cheeks; dripping from her beautiful face onto the bed in which her cousin laid.

“Grace? What Happened…? Why am I here?” she inquired with a tone of total confusion; Grace wondering how much she remembered of what had happened – if anything.

Her cousin’s hand went to touch the bandage on the back of her head; obviously feeling the pain of her injury and wondering what happened. “Oh, Addie no. Don’t touch it.” she told her; taking her hand in her own. “You’re in the hospital. You were shot. Do you remember anything?” she asked, “Do you remember who shot you?”

“Shot…? I was shot in the head? I…I don’t…don’t remember anything. I went to sleep last night and that’s all I know.” she stumbled through; clearly thinking that she had only been asleep for one night.

“Yes…you were shot. I don’t know who did it, but I have something to tell you about the situation.” Grace began; not looking forward to having to tell her that her father was in custody and charged with the crime. “The police have arrested your dad for it. It was his .38 that was used to shoot you, so they think he’s the one who did it.”

“Wha…w…what?” she asked; tears welling up in her sparkling green eyes at the thought of her own father being responsible for shooting her…for trying to kill her essentially.

“I’m so sorry, honey.” she told her soothingly; beginning to cry herself. “Unfortunately, I haven’t told you the worst part.”

“It gets worse?” she inquired with wide eyes. It was a lot to take in when she had been asleep for a week and had no memory of it herself.  

“Well…y..yeah. It does. First of all, you’ve been in a coma for the last week; not simply asleep for a night. I was so scared you would never come back to me, Addie.” she sobbed; happy tears choking her up. “But that’s not it, either. Whoever shot you – whether it was Uncle Chris or not – shot Gram, too.”

“He shot Gram? Where is she? Is she okay?” Adrienne demanded; completely appalled at the thought of someone hurting her grandmother.

“No…I’m sorry, Addie. Gram didn’t make it…” she was barely able to get out through tears.

“She’s dead?” she cried. “Gram’s gone?”

Grace couldn’t even answer her; her having to tell her cousin about their grandmother being gone was more than she could handle right now; with everything else she had been through since that fateful morning. The two cousins just held each other and cried for a while; mourning her passing. Adrienne hadn’t had any time to adjust to it yet; it was all as new as if it had happened only yesterday. Everything was new to her. Not only did she have to come to terms with living with a bullet in her head; she had to contend with her own father being the culprit, her grandmother being dead, and Caroline taking off as soon as Chris was arrested. At this point, she was truly alone in the world; alone except for Grace; whom she would need very much to help her cope with everything.

Grace finally broke away from her; letting her know that she was going to go find the doctor to let him know his patient had awakened from her week-long coma. It was amazing that all her faculties seemed to have remained intact; despite being shot in the head. The doctor entered the room with a smile on his face; truly pleased to see her awake. He performed all the normal tests; taking her blood pressure and checking all vital signs; which were all surprisingly very good. The only thing he could find wrong with her at this point was that the swelling still had to come down all the way before she was totally out of the woods and of course the wound itself still had some healing to do; though she was lucky, he said, that she had slept through the worst of the pain.

Grace had stepped outside the room to give Jesse a quick call and tell him the wonderful news about Adrienne, “Oh my God, Jesse. She’s awake!” she almost yelled into the phone, “She woke up! Addie woke up!”

“Grace, that’s fantastic!” he beamed, “Is…is she okay? Does she remember anything?”

“Yes. She’s better than okay!” Grace exclaimed, “She doesn’t remember anything after going to bed that night, but other than that, she’s great. The doctor said there was no lasting brain damage; nothing at all. Addie’s going to be fine. I know it.”

“I’m so happy for you, Grace. Really. I don’t even know what to say. I’ve prayed for this day and its here.” he said, adding, “Does she know who shot her?” his brow furrowing as he asked this question.

“No. She said she doesn’t know who did it. Either she saw and completely blocked it out or she was sleeping and never saw it coming.” she answered; shivering at the thought of being shot as she slept - or worse – seeing it coming; seeing who was about to put a bullet in her head.

“It’s probably better that way, if you think about it.” he began, asking “Would you want to know who wanted you dead? Especially if it was your father?”

“Well, with my father I wouldn’t even know.” she said in a sarcastic tone, “I don’t even know what the man looks like, so it would all be the same to me.”

He realized the error of his question and apologized to her; thinking that might have set him off, too. She was all right, though; not angry with him for asking; only hating her father for taking off before she was born. Jesse quickly changed the subject; telling her that he still had to pack a bag, but that he was definitely meeting her at ‘Devereaux Downs’ in a few hours; there to stay the night on the living room sofa; or so he thought. It was already late, so he told her he would pick up some take-out for dinner so neither one had to worry about cooking. He knew she was still very tired from the horrible experience through which she had just lived; as well as the things with which she was already dealing before the kidnapping. The kidnapping was just icing on the awful cake of Grace’s recent experiences.

She was genuinely happy to find him there waiting – hot food in hand – when she was finally able to pull herself away from her cousin and make her way home. Still nervous when she put the key in the door to unlock it, she just shook off the feeling and pushed open the blood red door to her home. There was still a lot of work to be done, she thought; looking all around her when she walked in the front door, but she had faith in Jesse being a big help to her with those projects. A couple coats of paint – inside and out – would do wonders for the place, he thought; looking around as well; seeing all the things he knew he would be the one to fix.

Grace was happy to be home again and ecstatic about Adrienne’s waking up, but there was still one question burning in her mind; what was the secret she wrote about in her diary? And how much would that tell them? Would they have a new murder suspect after her explanation of the diary entry? she wondered; dying to know. She thought her cousin had had enough for one day with handling all the information she had just been given, so she was waiting for tomorrow to ask her that question; though that would probably lead to a sleepless night for her; wishing for that answer more than anything. She wanted to be able to actually show her the diary itself, if that was possible, thinking she would be more likely to remember its meaning if she saw it written in her own hand.

She and Jesse ate their dinner in the living room – in front of the television – both of them wishing to be distracted from all of their thoughts. They talked for a little while and both were ready to go to bed when the conversation stopped. He followed her up the stairs, but only to retrieve a pillow and blanket from the linen closet in the hallway outside the bathroom. To his astonishment, when Grace came out of the bathroom, she asked him if he would sleep in her room with her…just for the night. Of course he said yes; thinking that the last time they had slept in a room together they were little kids. At first, he went to settle down for the night in the big chair by the window, but she said that every time she closed her eyes she saw Michael sleeping there. So she asked him to sleep in the bed with her; to which he readily agreed; Casey, who he had cared for while she was in the hospital the previous night, lying right between them at the foot of the big bed. One big happy family, he thought.