Suspicious Truths

Chapter 1-2

He noticed which building’s alarm had been activated.

“The Historical Society,” he said aloud.

For some reason, he pulled to the curb. He shouldn’t have, but he did. Cane’s Inlet still had a pull on him, most notably its connection to the long-ago past. Out of the car he went, dashing up the pathway to the porch. Unlike the Ocean’s Breeze, not only was there a light on beside the door, but the front door was wide open, shards of wood indicating a break-in. The alarm was deafening. Noah wondered if there was a switch he could find to shut it off. Then he would anonymously call 911 before driving off again.

As he entered the museum, he realized he dare not touch anything. This was a crime scene. All he wanted was to turn the alarm off. But his efforts in the dark proved fruitless, the piercing sound penetrating his ears, seemingly growing louder with each step he took. A stream of light caught his attention, and so he moved further into the room, finding himself drawn to the Medusa Room. The door was ajar, the source of the light found inside. Another couple steps and he eased open the door, finding before him a mess of destruction. Shelves had been torn down, books lay on the floor, broken picture frames whose shards of glass had fallen to the dark carpet. But what he most noticed was he’d found the source of the alarm, the sound at its loudest inside this room.

The famed Star Diamond case had been smashed, no doubt such action tripping the alarm.

Noah breathed deeply, shock consuming him, as he realized that the diamond was gone.

“Who would have stolen it, and on a night like this?”

There was no answer, not from him, nor from the intruder he suddenly heard behind him. The footsteps startled him. He tried to spin around, but the alarm had aided in the person’s stealth-like approach. So, Noah never saw what happened, he only felt it.

A quick, hard blow to his head. And then came harsh darkness. He never heard the thud of his body crumpling to the hard floor. Nor saw the shattered bits of glass that rained down around him.

* * * *

A beep. That’s what he heard. Persistent, droning. He wanted to turn it off but he didn’t know how. Didn’t know where the sound was coming from.

Hell, his mind was a jumbled mess, he didn’t know where he was.

Still just darkness, perhaps a slit of light giving him a sense of hope he didn’t know that he even needed.

Nothing made sense. Except that his head hurt. That much thundered inside him.

His eyes flickered but failed to fully open. The effort was painful, so he stopped.

At least his ears worked.

“Well, look who’s coming around.”

The voice was familiar to him, except his mind couldn’t process the face behind it.

Could he speak? He tried to move his mouth and even that hurt. His entire head felt like an anvil had fallen on it. His mind randomly inserted an image of the Road Runner cartoons, and even as he tried to fight the laugh he felt inside, knowing it would be painful, he did anyway. A short, loud bark that sounded dreamlike to him.

“Ow,” he said, his first word. He tried to suck down air.

“That’s an appropriate one, I guess. Rest easy, you’re going to be fine.”

Again, that voice, soothing now, resetting his breath. Normal and easy, and his eyes closed. Gentle murmuring around him, lulling him to sleep, or perhaps a far worse place. Thoughts of his mother carried him down a path, dark, tree-covered, no sunshine and no warmth. He shivered and thought of snow, and then blackness found him. Again.

Then came that persistent beep once more, relentless in its efforts to annoy him.

“Can you turn that off?” he heard, and realized the words had somehow come from him.

“No, Noah, it’s monitoring your vital signs. Don’t think about it.”

“Thinking is the last thing I can do.”

He was speaking but still unable to open his eyes, still unable to decipher the source of the voice. It was female he’d figured out, his brain beginning the slow process of healing. Or cognitive function. What he most knew was that his head still hurt. Not an anvil hitting him, his head replaced by one.

He shifted his body, deciding he was lying on his back, slightly angled. One of his fingers felt funny, like a clamp was around it.

“Where am I?”

“Cane Medical Center. It’s nice to have you back among the living.”

So, he was still in Cane’s Inlet. Last he knew, he’d been running from it, his intent to never return. What had happened to make him stay? And who was this woman?

That was a good next question to ask. He formulated it first in his brain. He struggled before saying, “Who are you?”

“Noah, it’s Ginette Hatcher. Just go easy, don’t push yourself.”

“Mrs. Hatcher?”

He heard a slight laugh. “Good to know nothing has changed on that front. No killing your relentless politeness.”

He was processing what had happened to him by her choice of words. Killing, back among the living, relentless. Cane Medical Center. Just how close had he come to dying? Suddenly he wondered what time it was; he didn’t sense any light in the room, so it must still be dark, perhaps only an hour or so since…since…that part of his memory was blank. A good thing, he surmised. He recalled the full moon. Shadows all around him. The thought of that piercing alarm worse than the beeping sound around him.

“What time is it?”

“It’s just after ten o’clock.”

He let that sink in, realizing she hadn’t said whether a.m. or p.m. It couldn’t have been p.m. because it had already been after ten when he’d made his escape from Hatcher’s Island. A chill hit his body courtesy of the onslaught of memory and the fact that he might have been unconscious for nearly twelve hours. He’d never been in a hospital before, at least not for himself. The antiseptic scent hit him like a brick just now, his mind taking him back to White Pine’s medical center, where his mother had endured poking, prodding, so many tests that ultimately were unable to save her.

“Mom,” he said, softly, to himself.

That’s when his eyes flickered open, wide and questioning. The word a shock to his system. Like the fear washing over him had awakened him. His vision was blurry, the woman at his bedside more shape than human.

“Shh, just rest. It’s too soon, don’t push yourself.”

He tried to shake his head, a gesture usually so effortless. He felt his brain rattle. He spoke. “Tired of rest. Ironic, right? I need to know, how long have I been asleep?”

“I’ll let the doctor know that you’re awake and talking. It’s more his job than mine anyway. He’s the professional.” He felt a gentle squeeze to his hand that bordered on the maternal. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. If you need anything, there’s a call button in your left hand. Just press your thumb down on it.”

His eyes closed without him trying, his hearing heightened. He heard the click of heels on hard tiles, the opening and subsequent closing of the door. How strange it was, he thought, the very woman he’d been running from, fearful of what Parker St. John might reveal to her, she was now at his side, none the wiser about who he was but behaving in a manner that could only be defined as maternal.

Resisting sleep was futile, so he gave in. Worry ceding to healing. When he woke up again, his eyes flickered open and this time he could see better. Ginette Hatcher looking as lovely as ever, her graying hair perfectly styled, her outfit a crisp blue. She appeared to be dressed in work clothes, as opposed to the glittering gown she’d worn just hours…no, not hours…could it have been days? Panic set in and his thumb found the call button and he began to press it.

“Noah, it’s okay…Dr. Delvecchio is here…right next to me.”

Blinking away a blur of fresh tears, he looked up and saw a kindly older gentlemen standing next to her. He wore a white coat, and a stethoscope hung around his neck. A thick white mustache highlighted his face, aided by kind eyes. But his physical details weren’t what piqued his curiosity, but rather…his name. There was something familiar about it.

“Do I know you?” Noah asked, his eyes trying to focus on the elderly man.

“Not unless you remember the events of Friday night, when you were brought in. I was on duty—and a rare night at that.”

“Dr. Delvechhio is mostly retired,” Ginette explained. “I asked him to consult.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Noah said, more confused than ever. Trying to decipher what he’d just heard. Still unsure what day it was. Surely it wasn’t Friday, since he’d referenced it as the past. Also, that Ginette’s presence here wasn’t recent. It sounded like she’d been here for a while…which had him asking, internally, for how long had he been here, both her being here and himself. The words he thought became the words he said.

“How long?”

“It’s Sunday night,” Dr. Delvecchio said. “You’ve been here for forty-eight hours.”

“I lost two days?”

“You rested for two days. Now, what do you say I run some tests and ask some questions, if you’re up for it?”

“Uh, sure.” All he’d wanted since coming to Cane’s Inlet had been answers. Now it was just more questions.

“What year is it?”

“Twenty eighteen.”

“Good.”

“Month?”

“May?”

“Are you unsure?”

“May.”

“What’s your name?”

Now that was a complicated answer and he felt his brain swell again. “Noah.”

“How about a last name?”

“Sanders. My name is Noah Sanders.”

He looked at Ginette Hatcher as he spoke those words. She nodded.

“Do you know who the President of the United States is?”

Noah frowned. “Do I have to admit to that?”

Both Ginette and the doctor laughed. “Okay, we’ll keep things local. What town do you live in?”

“White Pine,” he said.

“Is that where we are?”

“No.”

“Where are we, Noah?”

“Cane’s Inlet,” he said. Despite his efforts the other night to escape. He was still here, and the truth of the matter was he’d lost two days of his life. Had he just been laying in this bed? That awful beep the only sound, he unable to hear it until only recently. Thoughts of the beep brought it back to the forefront of his mind; he heard it again, loud and invasive.

“Well, why don’t we have a looksee at you,” Dr. Delvecchio said.

“Should I leave?” Ginette asked.

“She can stay,” Noah said. “I’d like her to stay.”

“That’s fine,” the doctor said. “Why not give us a little breathing room though.”

Noah watched as Ginette took a seat in the corner of the room, assuring Noah she’d be near if he needed anything, and he thanked her, his inner self feeling an unfamiliar warmth. She’d never been so friendly in all their dealings while at Hatcher’s. What had changed? His injury, or maybe Parker had told her what he’d learned? He forgot his questions as he felt a shock of cold against his skin. The doctor had begun his examination, placing the metal end of the stethoscope directly against his chest, Noah took a deep breath, tried to relax as his head fell back against the pillow. The doctor then checked his lungs, asking Noah to inhale, exhale, then repeat. A check of his blood pressure came next, then a pinpoint of light shining in his eyes. That hurt, making him blink, close them.

“It’s okay, Noah. Just open your eyes again. Just stare forward.”

Noah did, fighting against the light, knowing it was important to get an accurate diagnosis.

At last, Dr. Delvecchio was done, Noah thankful for his gentle bedside manner.

“Am I gonna live, doc?”

“Keeping a sense of humor does the mind wonders, but regardless, yes.”

“So, what happened to me?”

“Before you arrived, I don’t know? You were brought into the Center with a head wound, a bit of blood leaking. We sewed you up quickly. Nothing serious, but there was a slight gash. The stiches will dissolve on their own, doubt even your barber will notice a scar. What most concerns me is in your eyes. Your pupils remain dilated, which is the sign of a concussion. You’ll need time to heal, but you’ll be fine in a few days. You may suffer blurriness, faintness, or nausea.”

“So I’m stuck here?” Noah asked.

“Hardly. We’ll keep you one more night for further observation, but you should be good to go in the morning, barring any overnight setbacks. I’ll check in on you again. Make sure you have someone to pick you up and take you home. You have a roommate, a wife? Someone to stay with you.”

Noah tried to process all he’d just heard, but what most struck him was the fact that he was being released tomorrow. He decided not to answer any of the doctor’s questions, instead closing his eyes, faking sleep while his mind tried to ascertain just what the next day would hold for him. Sure, while only two days had passed since the party at the Medusa, so much had gone down, most of all his living arrangements. Demetri had asked him to move in, but that was no longer an option; betraying your lover had a way of killing a relationship. And Cilla, siding with her nephew, would surely kick him out of the Breeze.

He heard a scrape of a chair, the click of heels again.

“Thank you, Dr. Delvecchio. I knew I could count on you to help out.”

“Lucky for us all I was on duty that night. I may be retired, but I’ll tell you being home alone makes for long days.”

“I think I’ll retire when they carry me out,” Ginette said. “Thank you for always being there for our family.”

Then he heard the door close, leaving Noah wondering if both had departed.

A creak of the chair next to him suggested otherwise. He fought against the pain by taking a chance of opening his eyes. He saw Ginette Hatcher again by his side, again questioning why she was being so caring. No boss showed this level of concern toward an employee.

“You don’t have to stay here,” he said. “I’ve got nurses. The call button.”

“Now is not the issue,” she said. “Tomorrow is.”

“We don’t even know that I’ll be released.”

“If it’s not tomorrow, it’ll be the next day. You’ll be leaving the hospital soon.”

He allowed a small laugh, feeling the pain rattle inside his brain. He reminded himself he’d have to avoid any emotion that produced a physical result. A laugh, a sneeze. They seemed to rattle him, and not just his brain. Because at the moment, even his heart hurt, too, from all that he’d lost. Demetri, his residence, probably his job, too. He’d run out on the biggest party of the year, ditching his post on what was essentially his first night.

“I’ll figure something out,” he said, and then, unable to fight the tears inside him, he said, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“In the Army, I believe they call it dereliction of duty. Being AWOL.”

“We’ll deal with all that later, Noah. For now, I have some arrangements to make.”

“My replacement?”

“No, your housing,” she said. “Because I’m guessing you need a place to stay.”

“Yeah, uh, sort of, I think.”

“The last thing you need when healing is further stress. You’ll stay at Hatcher’s.”

“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to give up a room, I mean, not with the season coming…”

“I don’t mean the resort, Noah. I’m referring to the house. We have many rooms.”

Her words couldn’t have surprised him more if she added the words what else is a mother to do for her son? But those he failed to hear. Still, her invitation reverberated inside the echo chamber that was his hurt brain. He recalled Emerson’s words about mixing business and pleasure, a warning for him to maintain a fair distance between the resort and the house. This was dangerous territory, and all he wanted to do was say no.

Except he had no other option.

“I don’t want to intrude…Mr. Hatcher…”

“You leave him to me,” she said, “Besides, there’s someone I’d like for you to meet.”

“Who is that?”

“My son, Stefan.”

“Stefan…”

“I’ll think you’ll get along brilliantly. He’s quite a smart boy.”

This confused Noah even further. Had Parker not exposed him for the fraud he’d been all these months? Was Ginette Hatcher unaware that her son lay in this hospital bed, soon to rest his body inside the house which should have been his home all along?

Now his head truly hurt; in fact, it throbbed. So, too, did his heart.