Page 17 of Murder Will Out
An annoyed shout from the porch shook her out of her stupor. “Willow? Today, maybe?”
She hurried out after him.
Willow followed Nickout to the corner of the wraparound porch and sat in a wicker chair, pulling her knees up to her chin and hugging them tightly. Nick pulled a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and said impatiently, “Give me your hand.” When she did, he carefully wrapped the cloth around her hand, tucking in the ends so it would stay. “Once they’re done inside, I’ll have one of the techs take a look at this for you.”
“It’s fine; I don’t need it. I’m fine,” she said, tension radiating in every word.
“Too bad. They’ll look at it for you, anyway,” he retorted. “Was Mr. Talbot conscious when you left?”
Willow gave a shaky nod.
“And you left him? By himself?”
“My phone was dead. There were no phones in the house. It was leave and get him help or stay and watch him—” She broke off.
Nick regarded Willow, taking stock of the grown-up version of the girl who’d been such a nightmare when they were kids. He wanted to shout at her, place blame at her feet, accuse her of abandoning the man. But Nick had to admit what she’d said made sense; there wasn’t much else she could have done. No way he’d admit it to her, though. He fumbled instinctively for something to criticize.
“You let your phone die?” He looked at her dubiously. Then he shook his head in exasperation. “You left your Wi-Fi on, didn’t you? Depletes your battery. On this island, you need to shut it off whenever you’re not using it.”
“A piece of knowledge I wish I’d had this morning. We didn’t have Wi-Fi on the island last time I was here,” she said tersely. “Mr. Talbot almost collapsed at the restaurant, then took off in the golf cart on his own for the mansion before his wife could stop him. I told her I’d follow him and make sure he was all right. He was still sitting in the cart, and he looked awful. I got him inside, hoping I could use a landline in the house, but they don’t have one. There was another man here—Joel, he said his name was, Joel Drummond, I think—”
Nick looked at her sharply. “Another man? There was someone else here? Where did he go?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “We were trying to help Mr. Talbot into the sitting room to lie down, but he collapsed right where he is now. He threw up a few times, and he was shaking—” Her voice was starting to shake too. She clenched her fists and took a deep breath before continuing. “Mr. Talbot clearly needed medical attention, so I ran back to the cabin to call, and the man—Joel—stayed here with him.”I thought he was dying, she did not say.I was sure he would be dead when I got back. And I ran, anyway.
“So, this Joel Drummond guy, had you seen him before, or do you know who he is?” Nick frowned. “I’ve never heard that name around here, and it’s kind of my job to know people. It’s not that big an island.”
“We were a little occupied at the time. Introductions weren’t exactly first priority,” she said icily, provoking a scowl from him. She threw up her hands in frustration. “I don’t know what to tell you. I got here this morning. He was here, and he and Geralt clearly knew each other. I’d seen him earlier at Sue’s memorial. He said he would stay with Mr. Talbot, but he didn’t, for whatever reason, and he’s gone now.”
“No phone in the house?”
She shook her head. “He said the landline had been turned off after Miss Cameron died, since Sue used her cell phone. I didn’t want to leave Mr. Talbot, but… I didn’t know what else to do.”
Nick let the silence hang in the air before he grudgingly spoke again. “Mr. Talbot is still alive, but barely. My medical training is rudimentary at best, but if I had to guess, I’d say doing what you did may have saved his life.”
She looked up at him, a faint glimmer of hope in her eyes. Her eyes had been green when she was a girl, he remembered, but they had darkened to hazel as the years had gone by. She had always had nice eyes. When she wasn’t being insufferable.
Which was most of the time. He remembered that too.
One of the EMTs came to the door and gestured for Nick to come back inside. Nick stood and said, “Wait here, please,” and went back into the house.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Willow began to wonder why there were so many police officers attending what should have been a simple medical emergency. She was grilled by Nick again, then talked to another officer; she answered questions from one of the EMTs after they brought Geralt out on a stretcher. At some point, they started asking her what Geralt had eaten and drunk at the reception. Someone bandaged her hand. Phone numbers were exchanged. She should please call if she remembered anything new.
Willow did her best, but eventually, her ability to engage faded and gave up; speaking became more and more difficult. Everything felt off, and jagged, like she had taken up residence in a black-and-white Escher print where nothing connected the way it should.
At last, the machines and radios subsided. Emergency vehicles departed; officers pedaled away on their bicycles. Nick returned to Willow’s chair and knelt in front of her. The sun had disappeared behind the island’s western mountains and the fog had rolled in, depositing a layer of minuscule droplets on Willow’s clothing and skin. She didn’t mind; the fog muted the hard edgesof a painful world, and the chill outside only matched her inner workings.
“Hey. Willow.” Nick was squatting in front of her again. She managed to focus on his face—it was surprisingly kind, or at least not angry. She supposed neutral was the best she was going to get from Nick Tyler.
“Willow. It’s time to leave.”
She found she could not quite form the words to respond. She looked back at the front door of the mansion, surprised to see yellow crime tape across it.
Crime tape. That meant that someone—Nick, the paramedics, the other police—suspected a crime. That this was about more than a sick old man who had neglected his doctor visits. Willow shivered as she recalled the malevolent hiss of the man in the vestibule a few hours ago:When someone with one foot already in the grave kicks the bucket…
“Willow?” Nick said again, and she jerked her attention back to him. “Can I take you back to the cabin?” The officer’s voice was low and soothing, and it pissed her off.
