“My goodness, Darren, what’s wrong?” she said.
“I’m hurt,” I said. I’d made a makeshift sling out of one of the rolls of gauze in Pappy’s first-aid kit, and my right arm was across my stomach.
“You look terrible,” she said as she wrapped her hands around my left arm. “Let’s get you inside.”
We walked into her dining room, and she sat me down in a chair.
“What happened?” she said.
“I’m sorry to come here, but I didn’t know where else to go. Big Pappy came after me. It’s a long story and something you really don’t need to hear, but he came after me and he shot me. I probably need a doctor, Granny, but I can’t go to a hospital or to anyone who will talk about this. Do you know anyone?”
She nodded. “I know a man. He’s helped us out several times over the years. I’ll call him and get him to come. I thought you and this Pappy were friends.”
“So did I,” I said. “It didn’t work out that way.”
“Where is he?”
“That’s his car out there. He’s in the trunk, dead.”
“You killed him?”
“It was him or me.”
“Let me help you get the coat and shirt off. I need to take a look.”
I gasped as she removed the sling, my coat, and my shirt. The pain was becoming more intense as time passed, and the area around the entry wound had become red and swollen.
“I’m going to go call the doctor right now,” she said. “I suppose you want the body in the barn with the pigs.”
“If that’s possible,” I said.
“I’ll call Ronnie and Eugene, too. What about the car?”
“It needs to disappear.”
“Is there any way you were followed? Does anyone at all know you’re here?”
“I wasn’t followed. Nobody knows I’m here.”
“Where’s your cell phone?”
“At a motel in Knoxville where I’ve been staying.”
“I thought you were living with Grace.”
“That’s another story.”
She stepped back and gave me a stern look. “These aren’t small favors, Darren.”
“I know that, and I’m truly sorry for dumping this on you. I had nowhere else to go.”
She turned and walked out of the room. I could hear her talking quietly on the phone for a few minutes, and then she returned.
“The doctor will be here in an hour,” she said. “Ronnie and Eugene will take care of the car and what’s in it. How long do you need to stay here?”
“As soon as the doctor is done with me, I need to go,” I said. “As long as he says I can travel—hell, even if he says I can’t travel—I’m leaving.”
“How? Do you plan to walk back to Knoxville?”
“I was hoping for one last favor,” I said.
“What’s that?”
“I need a ride to Petros.”
“I’ll get Eugene to take you.”
After Granny walked out of the room to call Eugene, it finally dawned on me that I’d survived. I’d survived a gun battle with a vicious murderer. I wanted to tell someone other than Granny, to share the news with someone who cared about me. But there was no one. I thought about Grace. She would have been horrified. I shook my head at the thought of her, and I realized that I missed her terribly.
CHAPTER 60
The doctor cleaned and stitched the wounds, set my collarbone as best he could, and put my arm in a real sling. He gave me enough pain medication to last for a month. My collarbone was broken, he said, along with one rib. He didn’t have an X-ray machine, so he made the diagnosis by pushing on my ribs. When I screamed, he deemed the rib broken. He said from the amount and color of the blood he was seeing, he didn’t believe any internal organs had been damaged. Once the wound and the bones healed, I’d be good to go. I gave him $1,000 of the cash I’d taken from Pappy’s trunk—there was $25,000 in that wad—and thanked him. Eugene gave me a ride to Petros to pick up my car. Eugene had never been much of a talker, and he said very little on the way, which was fine with me. The less he, or anyone else, knew about what happened there, the better. When we got to the range, I asked Eugene to dispose of the pile of Pappy’s things that I’d left on the ground. He agreed and loaded everything into the back of his Jeep.
I drove my car back to Knoxville and pulled into the motel around two in the afternoon. I’d been gone for less than twenty-four hours, I hadn’t had any sleep, and I’d been shot. The pain medication was helping some, but I could still feel twinges whenever I moved. I went into the room and immediately sensed that something was wrong. I couldn’t quite identify it; it just seemed that the room was a little different from when I’d left. It felt like someone had been there, and there was a distant, faint smell of lemon and musk hanging in the air.
Katherine? Had her perfume lingered that long?
My cell phone was on the table where I’d left it, and I walked over and picked it up. I’d received two calls, both from Dan Reid. He’d left me voice mails both times and asked me to call him back. He said it was important. Before I did, though, I walked out the door and to the motel office. The motel was managed by a young Indian couple who also lived there. I’d gotten to know them on a shallow level. I was friendly; they were friendly. I knew their names—Chanda was the wife and Kishan was the husband—and they knew mine. Kishan was behind the desk when I walked in. He was slim with jet-black hair and dark eyes, and he sported a thin mustache above his upper lip.
“Hi, Kishan,” I said as I walked in.
“Ah, Mr. Street, you don’t look so good,” he said. “What happened to your arm?”
“Went skiing with a friend in Gatlinburg this morning. Didn’t work out.”
“Ah,” he said. I could tell he didn’t believe me.
“Listen, Kishan, did you by any chance notice anyone around my room last night or this morning?”
“I saw a young lady. She didn’t drive in; she walked from somewhere, but I saw her coming out of your room. Same lady I saw earlier yesterday. Very pretty.”
“Black hair? Blue eyes?”
“Yes. Very pretty.”
“When did you see her?”
“Last night near midnight. I thought you were there. I was taking out the trash and saw her come out of the room. Is there a problem? Should I have called the police?”
“No, Kishan, no problem at all. Thank you for keeping an eye out.”
I went back to the room, wondering two things. How did Katherine get into my room without a key, and what the hell was she doing in there? When I got back to the room, I picked up my cell and called Dan Reid.
“Sorry I missed your calls,” I said when he answered. “I’ve been a little under the weather.”
“I have something for you on your girl, Katherine Davis.”
“Something good or something bad?”
“I don’t know. Actually, I probably do. I don’t think it’s good.”
“What is it?”
“I finished my background check on her, looked into her family history. Guess who her aunt is? Her mother’s sister?”
“No clue.”
“I’ll give you a hint. She’s a redhead and a detective. Works for the Knoxville Police Department.”
“Dawn Rule?”
“You got it.”