“YES.JULIE WAS FOUND. SHE’S BEING RUSHED TO BRONSON HOSPITAL IN KALAMAZOO.”
Chapter
Sixteen
Forty-five minutes and more than a few traffic violations later, we pull into the emergency room parking lot at Bronson Hospital. Without a word, we all scramble from Matt’s truck and rush into the hospital. A large circular desk sits just inside the glass doors. There are a multitude of chairs on both sides. Most people are gathered in groups. We pause for only a moment, allowing our eyes to adjust as we search. Sitting off to the right near a large window, we spot our father.
“How is she?” Liv asks as we hurry toward him.
“Unconscious.” Dad leans forward, supporting his chin with his fists, elbows on his knees. With only his eyes peering upward, he adds, “Your mother is with her.”
It’s Liv who settles into the seat beside Dad and embraces his arm. “What do you know and where’s Marty?”
His eyes close as he gathers his thoughts. “Deputy Morton was the first on the scene.” Dad’sAdam’s apple bobs as he sits up. “I don’t understand how or why this happened.” He stands, freeing himself from the vinyl seat, turns a slow circle, and runs his hand through his hair.
For no reason, the grayness hits me.
At one time our father had dark amber locks. Grandma used to say it was the shade of the setting sun. As he aged his hair grew darker, turning to a reddish-brown. In my mind it’s a deep mahogany, like shiny wood. Now, after years of marriage, raising four children, and doing his share to support them, the gray is overtaking the color. The silver shimmers under the combination of harsh lights and afternoon sun coming from the large window. My gaze lowers, seeing the deep creases in his forehead and small lines spidering from the corners of his tired blue eyes.
My father has aged.
Finishing his slow spin, Dad turns to us, lowering his voice. “They’re running tests. They said Julie is dehydrated, and they’re trying to learn more.”
My mind fills with the hodgepodge of medical knowledge I’ve collected through my work. I’m not a doctor and I don’t pretend to be. However, I have some understanding. “What kind of tests? Do they know why she’s unconscious?” Those are only two of the questions swirling through my thoughts.
Dad’s gaze catches mine before turning away without a response.
“Dad, what about Marty?” Liv asks again.
His expression blanks, the skin on his cheeks goes slack, his lips gape, and his eyes lose focus. “Julie wasfound” —he exhales— “in an old gardener’s shed, far back on the McKenna property. According to the deputy, the place is probably a hundred years old, hasn’t been used since before the McKennas moved off the property and their house and barn were torn down.”
I imagine a scene in a show—my arms cover in goose bumps.
There would be worn wood slats along the walls with visible gaps for insects and vermin. Spiderwebs hang thick and sticky from every surface, complete with carcasses ready for the spider’s next meal. And the wood or concrete floor is thickly blanketed in layers of droppings.
Acid bubbles in my stomach as I push away the images and listen to what is being said.
“How did Julie get there?” Ollie asks.
Dad sighs and retakes his seat. “Deputy Morton didn’t speculate. He only said that they’re making the building off-limits and the county is coming in to do some tests. Guess there was some blood and other evidence.”
“Blood?” I ask. “Are you saying they’re considering it a crime scene?”
Before Dad can answer, Liv asks, “Other evidence?”
“Julie’s hurt.”
Hurt—that’s a word with broad implications.
“What about bites from insects and mice?”
Liv again, “How is she hurt?”
“She’s unconscious,” he snaps before shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I only saw her briefly, but from what I saw, she looked...” He looks up with unshedtears glistening in his blue eyes. He forces a smile. “I saw her again after they cleaned her up. You know...she looks...good. Like she’s just sleeping. Some bruises. The doctor said her heart rate is very low. And she isn’t breathing right.”
“What does that mean?” Ollie asks.
Dad’s hand again goes to his hair. “It means sheisbreathing, Ollie.” His volume raises. “Your sister is alive.”
