Nearly Departed in Deadwood (28 page)

      Next, we’d visited the Wymonds’ property. The drive had been empty. Dented trash cans lined the curb, Kelly’s bike lay on its side in the yard, the front tire flat and hanging off the spoke wheel like a necklace.

      I’d banged on the door. Silence had responded, followed by loud buzzing as a pair of yellow jackets harassed me.

      After fighting off my sting-happy attackers, we’d trampled through the overgrown grass into the backyard, peeked in the dirt-rimmed windows of Jeff’s tool shed, and frowned at the baby-doll head floating face-up in the brown water of a kid’s pool.

      We’d left and headed back to town, raced through the aisles of the Piggly Wiggly, poked our heads in the Adams Museum, marched through the headstones up on Mount Moriah, waded through children at the mini-amusement park at the south end of town, and even stomped around Wolfgang’s yard, making sure the root cellar door remained locked up tight. All for naught.

      Addy seemed to have disappeared off the planet. I gnawed on my thumbnail. My stomach roiled, nauseated, the remains of my lunch threatening to crawl up my esophagus and escape screaming out of my throat. “How long until I can go to the police?”

      Harvey shrugged. “Honey, you can go to the police any time.”

      Doc’s Camaro rolled into the lot. I was out of the Bronco and standing beside his car door before he shifted into Park.

      “Anything?” I stood back as he pushed open his door and climbed out.

      He didn’t need to answer. The lines criss-crossing his face said it all. “Sorry. I checked in the casinos, too, and talked to some of the floor-walkers. Nobody has seen her.”

      “Oh, fuck!” I covered my face with my hands. My heart ached from being ripped in half. “Where is she?”

      A pair of arms wrapped around me. I lowered my hands and buried my nose in the soft cotton of Doc’s T-shirt, his woodsy scent cocooning me. “She’ll show up, Violet.”

      “What if
he
has her?” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I just want my Addy back,”

      “You’ll get her back.” Doc’s voice sounded so certain as he stroked my back.

      “How do you—”

      “Violet,” Harvey called from the Bronco’s passenger side window. “You have a phone call.”

      I pulled back from Doc and squinted in the late afternoon sunlight at Harvey. “Who is it?”

      “He didn’t say.”

      “Tell whoever it is I’ll call him back.”

      “He says he needs to talk to you immediately.”

      I strode back to my Bronco, Doc on my heels, and grabbed the phone from Harvey. “Yes?”

      “Hello, Violet Parker,” Jeff Wymonds said in my ear.

      “Listen, Jeff, I don’t have time to talk right now.”

      “I think you’re going to want to hear this.”

      “Really?” If this was more about his soon-to-be ex or death-obsessed daughter, I wasn’t in the mood to play psychiatrist. “What is it?”

      “Your daughter.”

      I gasped. “What about her?”

      “I have her.”

      * * *

      The Northern Hills Hospital had served the communities of Deadwood, Lead, and the surrounding silver and gold-mining settlements through boom and bust since the 1870s. I had often imagined the famous and infamous patrons that had dragged themselves through its doors, bleeding from bullet wounds, knife gashes, and all of the other violent ways to end a crooked card game or saloon brawl.

      Not once had I imagined myself following in their footsteps. Yet here I was, Bronco tires squealing as I skidded into a parking spot and stomped on the brakes.

      I didn’t wait for Harvey to peel himself off the dashboard, nor for Doc, who rolled in behind me, as I ran across the asphalt and shoved through the Emergency Room’s double doors.

      Addy sat in the corner of the room, her arm in a makeshift sling. Kelly lounged in the chair next to her.

      “Oh, thank God.” I swallowed the coconut-sized lump in my throat and jogged across the carpet, indifferent to the stares of the handful of other patrons waiting for their turn with a doctor. I squatted in front of Addy, wanting to squeeze her tight against me, but holding back due to her arm. “Hi, Sweetie. I’m so glad you’re safe.”

      Her brow was wrinkled as she looked up, her lower lip quivering. “Mom, I lost Elvis.”

      Huh? The king of rock n’ roll? “Elvis?”

      “My chicken.”

      Oh. I needed to start writing down these kinds of things. “Addy, your chicken is a girl.”

      Her eyes filled with tears. “I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

     
Jesus!
I’d just spent the last few hours having my heart and soul ripped out through my throat while
what-if
demons stripped years from my life. Excuse me if I struggled with working up a snuffle or two for a freaking chicken who used the hood of my Bronco as its own personal outhouse.

      “Sweetheart,” I had trouble keeping the terseness from my tone, “I’m sorry you lost your chi—Elvis.”

      “Me, too,” she whispered.

      Her fat tears weathered away my rough edges. I brushed the wetness from her cheeks. “Maybe we’ll see about getting you another one.”

     
What?
Who said that? It wasn’t me, because the last thing I wanted was another chicken roosting on my pillow every night. Although snuggling up to a pet snake would be worse.

      “No, I don’t want another chicken. Just Elvis.”

      Well, thank the poultry gods for that. I kissed her on the forehead, soaking up the feel and taste of her skin against my lips.

      “Hello, Violet Parker.”

      I stood, smiling at Jeff Wymonds without effort for the first time since meeting him. “Thank you so much for your help.”

      “No problem.” He patted Kelly’s head and then sat in the seat across from her. “I just hope these two numbskulls understand now why that old mine was barricaded and plastered with No Trespassing signs, and don’t pull this kind of shit again.” He shot a glare at his daughter. “Next time, I might not be around to fish either of you out of a shaft.”

      “We know, Dad.” Kelly’s sigh could have won her an Emmy for the
Best Dramatic Scene in a Daytime Soap Opera
category. “You lectured us all the way to the hospital, remember?”

      Addy’s forehead was puckered as she looked up at me. “We wouldn’t have gone in if Elvis hadn’t squeezed between the boards. It was a rescue mission, Mom, see?”

      A tap on my shoulder made me turn. Doc stood behind me, holding out a can of Diet Coke.

      “Thanks,” I took the cold can and cracked it open. “Jeff, this is my ...” I paused, not sure really what role Doc played in my life. “My friend, Doc Nyce.”

      “Yeah, the pool player.” Jeff remained seated but held out his hand toward Doc while giving me a raised-brow look. “I thought you said he was a client.”

      Oops, I’d forgotten all about our lunch conversation.

      “Violet likes to mix business with pleasure,” Doc said, his grin teasing me as he released Jeff’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Wymonds.”

      “Where’s Harvey?” I asked Doc and dropped into the seat next to Addy. Coming down from my adrenaline rush left my legs weak.

      “He said something about needing to use the facilities.” Doc ruffled Addy’s blonde hair. “Good to see you again, Squirt. I hear the doctor says you’re going to need a cast.”

      “Yep. It’s going to be purple, too.”

      “Cool. I can’t wait to see it.”

      Sipping on my Diet Coke, I patted the chair next to me, not ready to break the bond that I’d forged with Doc this afternoon. While he’d made it clear I couldn’t act on this crush I had for him, which was mushrooming out of control by the minute, there were no rules about feeding a friendship.

      Doc obliged, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “How did you know where the girls were?” he asked Jeff as he draped his arm over the back of my chair.

      Good question. One that might have popped into my brain had I not been so busy trying to figure out if Doc’s hand had just brushed my ribcage on purpose.

      “Kelly—”

      “Whew!” Harvey ambled into our corner of the waiting room, wiping his hands on his jeans. “My prostate must be as big as a grapefruit today.”

      I winced. I was quickly learning that there seemed to be no topic off-limits in Harvey’s repertoire.

      “What’s a prostate?” Addy asked.

      “It’s a saloon girl who likes to sleep with dirty boys,” Kelly answered, her tone factual.

      Jeff grinned. Doc chuckled, his hand skimming my ribs again.

      “No, that’s a prostitute,” Harvey clarified.

      “The prostate is a gland, Sweetheart,” I answered, trying to figure out how to keep this conversation from plunging into a squirming pool of discomfort. In my family, there were three topics we didn’t explore in mixed company—religion, politics, and bodily functions. “It’s nothing important, Adelynn,” I added, using my motherly, end-of-discussion tone.

      Harvey grunted. “It is when you’re my age.”

      “What does it do?” Addy pressed, avoiding my glare.

      “Makes it hard to take a piss.”

     
Splash!
I squirmed in my chair, bumping into Doc’s hand, and kept my focus fixed on Harvey.

      “Howdy, Jeff,” Harvey plopped into the seat next to Jeff, his blue eyes moving from me to Doc and back to me, his lips forming into a know-it-all grin.

      I shot him a scowl, but my neck roasted, anyway.

      “Hey, Harvey,” Jeff nodded at the big-mouthed old bird. “How’s life treating you?”

      “Viagra is a wonderful drug.”

      That said it all. My blush climbed to my cheeks as I wriggled in my seat again.

      Doc’s fingers strummed my ribcage.

      I stilled as my body tightened, inside and out. Turning, I met his dark brown eyes. He winked and strummed again, this time slower, his fingertips lingering on each rib.

      Such a small touch, no more than a leisurely sweep really. Yet a shudder registering around magnitude eight on the Richter scale rumbled along my nerves, which were still recovering from the side effects of hours of adrenaline rush. Did he have any clue how aware I was of every breath he took at this moment?

      “Mom?” Addy’s voice yanked me back to the ER waiting room.

      I tore my gaze from Doc’s. “Yeah, sweetie?”

      Addy pointed at the doorway. “Look who’s here.”

      Following her finger, I gasped at the site of Wolfgang standing there, smiling at me with those dazzling white teeth. With his indigo blue camp shirt unbuttoned at the neck, his faded jeans hugging his form, and his hair looking like he’d combed it with his fingers, he could have been the newest cover model for a Stetson cologne ad.

      I groaned inwardly. I’d forgotten about our date.

      I met him halfway across the room. “I’m so sorry, I—”

      He took me in his arms and dropped a quick kiss on my lips, surprising me into silence. I’d forgotten that we’d made it to the kissing-cousin level in our relationship.

      “Don’t worry about it.” He said, stepping back. The spicy aroma of his aftershave lingered around my head. “Your aunt explained everything to me. I’m just glad to hear Addy is okay.”

      I glanced toward Addy, then Doc. His poker face would have made Wild Bill Hickok envious. “Why don’t you come join us? We’re waiting for Addy’s cast fitting.”

      “Sure, but first,” Wolfgang grabbed my hand and raised it to his lips, his cobalt eyes locking onto mine. “Let me just look at you for a second.”

      I fidgeted under his stare, knowing my makeup had been rubbed off several hours ago and my hair was spiraling out all over my head.

      “I couldn’t stop thinking about you while I was gone.”

      “Same here,” I lied, wishing it were the truth. I tugged my hand free. “Come on. Addy will be happy you came.”

      I had trouble meeting Doc’s eyes as we joined the group, so I started the introduction with Jeff. “Wolfgang, this is—”

      “Jeff Wymonds,” Wolfgang finished for me.

      “Oh, that’s right.” I’d forgotten Wolfgang was a local. “You two went to school together.”

      Jeff’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “How’s the jewelry business, Hessler?”

      I glanced at the back of Jeff’s neck to see if it was bristling, but his scruffy hair covered any evidence.

      “Booming,” Wolfgang’s grin dazzled as usual. If he was picking up on Jeff’s surly undertone, he hid it well. “How’s your wife?”

      Alarm whistles blared in my head. I pointed at Harvey. “This is my friend, Willis Harvey.”

      Wolfgang followed my lead without a hiccup. “Mr. Harvey. Didn’t you used to frequent the casino next to my store?”

      “Sure did. I was dating one of the cocktail waitresses there—until her husband found out.”

      I heard a quiet laugh come from Doc. “That must have put a kink in things.”

      “Might of,” Harvey snickered, “if her old man had gotten a hold of my wedding tackle. His trick hip gave me the edge.”