“Did one of your neighbors tell you I had been asking questions? Maybe Rick Gurney or his wife, Susan? Rick seemed anxious to come to the hospital. He thinks Kevin is a really great guy.”
Meg flipped a page.
“That was pretty clever of you, Meg, to set things up as though Amy Witherspoon wanted to help me out.”
Meg’s eyelids quivered.
“I suppose you picked up on everything that was going on between the Michicomi vendors when I let you watch my booth for me. You probably gathered names and business cards with contact information on them, right? It was a simple matter, then, to call Gabe’s home and fool his wife into passing on what she believed was a message from Amy.”
“You’re crazy, Jo.”
“Not crazy, but pretty lucky. When I asked you to call your friend Emmy about Patrick Weeks, it was dumb luck that I handed you my cell phone to use. Emmy’s phone number was then stored in it. I talked to Emmy myself, just a little while ago. She had a lot to tell me.”
Meg’s head jerked up, her stony expression suddenly flashing anger. “You had no right to call Emmy.”
“No? Didn’t I have a right to find out what you had against Linda Weeks?”
“Everyone had something against Linda! She was an awful person who ruined people’s lives.”
“She hurt yours pretty badly, didn’t she?”
Meg closed down again, her mouth clamping shut. But her eyes had turned dark, and Jo had a good idea what memories might be running behind them.
“Emmy tossed off the story lightly,” Jo said, “as though it was no big deal, just something that happened all the time in high school but didn’t really matter. That’s because it didn’t happen to her, though. It was a very big deal to you, Meg, wasn’t it?”
Meg had dropped her gaze back down to her magazine and she turned another page, but Jo doubted she saw any of it. Meg’s chest was heaving.
“You pretended to me that you barely knew Patrick Weeks, but in fact you two were dating—seriously dating. Until Linda came along and stole him from you.”
Meg kept her eyes on her lap as she spoke. “She could have had almost anybody else. She was one of the popular ones, part of the ‘in’ crowd. I never had a boyfriend until Pat. We started dating during our summer jobs at the pool, and Pat told me he liked that I was so down-to-earth. We had a special relationship.”
“Until Linda ruined it.”
Meg’s face lifted, her eyes looking beyond Jo. “During senior year,” she said, “I made the mistake of making her look silly. It was in history class, in front of her friends. She had to give a report—something to do with World War Two—and she wasn’t ready for it. She tried to wing it. But I asked a question, just something that popped into my head. I didn’t mean it to be sarcastic, but it came out that way and it broke everyone up. Her cliquey friends teased her about it for days afterward, plus she got a D on the report. She had to get even with me. The best way was to steal Pat.”
“That must have really hurt.”
Meg’s eyes focused on Jo, filled with the pain she must have felt all those years ago. “He was the only boy I ever cared about.”
“Did you go to Patrick’s furniture shop the other day?”
“I had to see him. I knew he wouldn’t recognize me, and I didn’t want him to. I’ve put on weight, but I’m going to take it off. I wanted to see what he looked like now, and he looked great. I saw his little girl too. I liked her. I didn’t know about her until you told me. But Linda would have been a terrible mother. She
was
, of course, since she left her daughter and barely saw her anymore. I would be a much better mother for her. I would trim down and be like I used to be in high school. Patrick would love me again, and we could be a family, a happy family.”
“But you had to get rid of your husband first?”
Meg jerked her head as though annoyed to have Kevin brought into her fantasy.
“Meg, what did you give Kevin that made him so sick?”
Meg stared back down at her magazine.
“If you tell the doctors, they can do something to help him before it’s too late.”
Meg stood up, slipping the strap of her large handbag onto her shoulder, and walked to the window. She stared out at the rain, her back to Jo. The water ran down the outside of the window in jagged rivulets, and Meg put her finger up to the glass to trace the path of one. “I don’t want Kevin to get better,” she said, her voice taking on a distant tone.
“Meg, you can’t let him die.”
“I should never have married him. It’s his own fault, talking me into it. He should have known I would always love Pat.”
“He doesn’t deserve to die for that. What did you give him, Meg?”
Meg turned to face Jo, tears running down her face. “Why should he live when my life is over?”
“Your life isn’t over.”
“It is, Jo. All I wanted was to be with Pat. Was that so much to ask for? I did everyone a favor getting rid of Linda. You know I did. But now they’ll want to punish me for it. I deserve to be thanked, but instead they’ll keep me from Pat. After I’ve waited so long.”
What could Jo say to that? Of course Meg would go to prison for murdering Linda, and of course her hopes of living happily ever after with her first love had never had a chance. But there was still the man who was fighting for his life in the ICU to think about. How could Jo get Meg to think about him? To care about him before it was too late?
Jo stood up, thinking only of talking reason to Meg, when Meg suddenly reached into her bag. She pulled out a gun and pointed it at Jo.
“Stay back, Jo!”
Jo froze. “Meg, what are you doing?”
“Don’t come near me, Jo. I’ll shoot you if I have to. But I don’t want to. I want to kill myself. And I will, so don’t try to stop me. I’ll shoot anyone who tries to stop me.”
“Meg, this is insane.”
“Is it? Would you want to live if you were me?”
Meg had begun waving the gun, gesticulating with it. Jo’s first thought was that it could go off at any time. What if someone else came into the room? Jo could try to overpower Meg, but what were the odds she could take the gun from her without it going off in the process? She suddenly thought of Russ, whose room was right down the hall. If he heard a gunshot he’d know right away what it was and his policeman’s instincts would kick in, making him act. But he was in no condition to do so, and who knew what might result from that? Jo had to calm Meg down, to keep her from firing that gun. But how?
“Meg,” she said, thinking rapidly, “it’s not too late.”
Meg stared. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you can still be with Patrick.”
Meg continued to stare, but Jo thought she saw a glimmer of hope flit through her eyes.
“He’s probably been thinking of you all these years too, you know. But he doesn’t even know you’re here. Think how devastated he’ll be if he finds out how close you were all this time.”
Meg’s eyes softened for a moment, but then flashed angrily at Jo. “You wouldn’t let me go to him. You’d call the police the minute I left here.”
“I wouldn’t, Meg. But just to be sure you can take me with you. I’ll drive you to Patrick.”
Meg appeared to think that over, her desire to be with her lost love possibly overwhelming whatever sense of logic and reality remained. “If you tried to do anything on our way out, I would shoot you, Jo.”
“I know, and don’t worry. I won’t. I want you and Patrick to be together. I know what it’s like to lose someone you’ve loved. I want you to get him back, Meg.”
Meg hesitated but then nodded. “You walk beside me, Jo. We’ll go to my car, but you’ll drive. If I see you try to signal anyone, I promise I will shoot—first you, then them, and then myself.”
“Understood. But it will be all right. Just let me get my jacket.”
Meg nodded, watching sharply as Jo stepped back to grab her jacket and then her purse. Meg moved up beside her and slipped her gun just inside her own pocketbook. “I have my finger on the trigger, Jo,” she said, and nudged Jo to begin walking slightly ahead of her, heading out of the room and toward the stairwell. Jo found herself breathing easier the farther they got from Russ, the nursing staff, and all the innocent patients and visitors that wandered the halls.
Though her own legs trembled.
Chapter 29
It amazed Jo, at first, how few people took any notice of them—two women whose strained expressions alone should have signaled that something was very wrong. But she reminded herself that hospitals were full of crises, although of a very different sort, and that everyone they passed must have had stresses of their own to deal with. They therefore left Jo and Meg to their own.
Their slow progress, once they’d left the building, should also have struck anyone watching as suspiciously odd—walking, not running, through the pouring rain. But apparently no one watched, and the two of them reached Meg’s car unchallenged.
Once in the car’s passenger seat, Meg heaved a relieved sigh. She pulled the gun out of her pocketbook and rested it on her lap, in plain view. Risky, perhaps, should anyone happen to look in, but on this rainy day not likely to happen. Jo mopped the rain off her face as best she could with her jacket sleeve, put Meg’s keys into the ignition, and started their journey.
In minutes they were on the street and heading out of Abbotsville, Jo thinking rapidly to what lay ahead. She had promised Meg that she would take her to Patrick, which meant driving to his furniture shop. But Jo realized now that Pat’s young daughter was likely to be there too. Bringing Patrick into this situation was bad enough, but there was no way Jo would endanger Abby.
“Meg,” she said, “I’m wondering if it’s the best idea to go to Pat’s shop.”
“I’m going to meet Pat,” Meg said firmly.
“Yes, I didn’t mean that that should change. I’m just remembering that his shop is in a busy part of town. There would be too many people around, people who could tell the police later that they saw the two of you take off together. It would be much better to have Pat meet you somewhere else, somewhere more isolated.”
Meg didn’t say anything for a while, and Jo drove—on the highway by then—and waited, wondering what else she could say to convince her.
But then Meg said, “He could come to the fairgrounds.”
Jo shook her head. She had already pictured the empty expanse around the buildings there, which would make any kind of covert approach by a rescue team next to impossible. “I know you thought it would be an isolated spot to bring me to, but actually they started constructing several more buildings there right after the Michicomi show ended.” A huge lie, but Jo hoped Meg would believe it. “There’ll be plenty of security people around, keeping an eye on the equipment.”
Jo had thought of a place to take Meg that she might agree to and that would also offer Jo hope of escaping. “I was thinking of the tobacco barn where I met Bill Ewing. He wouldn’t be there, of course, with this rain. It would be very private, and it’s in a very pretty spot.”
Meg appeared to think it over. “Okay. Go to the barn. I’ll tell Pat to meet me there.” Jo glanced over and saw Meg smile slightly. Did she find the thought of a reunion at an old tobacco barn romantic? Did she truly believe Patrick would be overjoyed to hear his high school sweetheart was waiting for him and expecting him to run away with her?
Jo turned her focus back to her driving. Her next problem was finding the way to the barn. Harry had driven the only time she’d been there, and Jo’s thoughts then had been on Bill Ewing more than roads. She hoped she’d be able to spot the final, barely visible turnoff while under pressure. Jo’s cell phone suddenly rang from inside her purse, making both of them jump.
“Let it ring,” Meg said.
“I’d better not, Meg. I asked Carrie to call me about an important shipment we’re expecting for the shop. If I don’t answer, she’ll know something’s wrong. Carrie’s a real worrywart and she’ll start calling people.”
Meg pulled the phone out of Jo’s purse and handed it to her. “Okay, but keep it short.”
Jo flipped the phone open. “Carrie?”
“It’s me, Aunt Jo,” Charlie said, sounding incongruously cheery. “I’m at the shop. Mrs. Chatsky got the vase and all, but now she wants another one. I checked, but you only have the one. I said you’d order another, okay?”
“That’s great, Carrie.”
“Huh? Aunt Jo, it’s me—”
“So the shipment got there all right?”
“Shipment? What ship—”
“Good. Do they need any help getting it in, Carrie?”
“Aunt Jo, what’s going on?”
“Hang up, Jo,” Meg said.
Jo glanced at Meg. “Okay, but make sure they don’t knock off that photo I hung near the stockroom. The one that Harry took.”
“Hang up!” Meg had picked up her gun and was pointing it at Jo. Jo closed her phone. Meg took it and slipped it into her pocket.
Jo looked back at the road. Would Charlie understand what she was trying to tell him? Or would he decide she was sliding into early senility, shrug, and go back to his NASCAR races?