Minnesota

Worries

I shouldn't have left her. I abandoned her. Connie waved her right hand in front of her face, as if to shoo away a fly. She was trying to rid herself of gnawing guilt.

            You have no reason to feel guilty. It’s pure self-preservation. If you'd stuck around, you'd have to answer some seriously unpleasant questions. Followed by a murder conviction. Connie shivered, realizing that a part of her was cold, calculating. She wondered when she became so boldly self-interested. Right around the same time you decided to kill a rapist.

            She buttered a large loaf of French bread and loaded it with everything the small refrigerator had to offer - ham, salami, three different kinds of cheese, topped with lettuce and tomatoes. She wrapped the finished sandwich in tin foil and placed it into the cooler. Connie stared at the bowl of fruit in the fridge. I bought these on the morning she left and put a banana and an apple into her handbag. Are they still in her bag?

            She stood in front of the open refrigerator for a moment longer. Then she reached for two bananas.

***

“How is she?” Connie walked into the hospital room. Lars sat in the chair next to the bed, his large, bearlike paws enveloping Nena's hand.

            “No change since yesterday. She looks tiny in this huge bed; so fragile.” Lars inhaled, sat up straight and rubbed his eyes. Connie nodded. And pale, so very, very pale. The room faced east, and the morning sun flooded the room with sunshine. Dust particles danced lazily in the air. It seems not even hospitals have found a way to get rid of dust. Connie could relate. She placed the cooler onto the small table. 

            She handed Lars the sandwich. “Here, I made this for you. I want you to eat. I am willing to force you, if you refuse.”

            He smiled thinly but took off the aluminum foil and began devouring the sandwich. Connie poured him coffee from the thermos and sat it on the table. “Thanks, I didn't realize how hungry I was.” His words came out muffled in between bites. Connie nodded and sat in the small plastic chair next to the table. She stared at the monitor tracking her friend's steady heartbeat. Nena had been in a chemically induced coma since she arrived at the ER.

Lars tried to flush down the half-chewed sandwich with hot coffee. An attempt that failed and he spilled half of the content over his shirt. “Damn.” He tried to wipe the spilled beverage with his hand only to have pieces of salad added to the mess. Connie couldn't help it; she laughed.

            “Well, aren't we having fun today.” A young man dressed in a white overcoat, clipboard in hand and stethoscope around his neck, came in. Lars looked up, his brown eyes wide, his lips shaped into a perfect 'o' of surprise. Connie rushed to grab napkins out of the bag.

“I am Dr. Earl. We haven’t met. I took Nena's case over from Dr. Sullivan.” He extended his hand, and Connie took it. It was warm and firm. Connie felt immediately comforted. “So, how's everything looking here? Aside from an apparent food fight.” The young man's lips parted in a smile while bending over Nena. With a mall penlight he checked her pupils, then examined her bruised body. “The bruises are healing. That's a good sign. We'll do a CAT scan tomorrow morning to see if the swelling in her brain is going down as well. If everything checks out, we'll be able to take her out of the coma.” Dr. Earl leaned against the edge of Nena's bed.

            “The staff tells me you two have been here nonstop since they brought your friend in three days ago. Now I am going to tell you to go home. Get some rest, go for a walk and resume your lives. Come back tomorrow evening and with a little luck, Nena will be awake and ready to talk your ears off. I have a note here that tells me to call the police once she's recovering, are you aware of that?” Connie and Lars nodded in unison.

            “Officer Riley is a friend of mine, and he's on the team that’s investigation this. But he still can’t give us details as to what happened, how they found her or even what exactly happened to her. Can you tell us? Is it true what the papers report that she was raped and beaten?” Lars shuddered at the memory of reading the article.

            Dr. Lars shook his head. “Given the circumstances, it's best you don't know. But I'm going to tell you that I’ve never seen anything like it.” His eyes cast downward, as if he was ashamed to look at them. Connie's face turned pale at the memory of Nena's body on the cold, hard cement floor. She remembered how translucent Nena's skin looked against the dark red of her blood. “Oh, I am sorry I didn't mean to frighten you.” He reached for her shoulder, apologetic for upsetting her.

            “No, it's okay. I just can't imagine how a human being can do this to another person.” Connie nervously cleared her throat while her fingers tore apart one of the napkins on the table.

            “Calling him human could qualify as a misnomer.” Officer Riley stepped into the room, and three heads jerked in his direction.

Cliff stepped further into the room, glancing at Dr. Earl.

            The physician understood. “I'll leave you three to talk in private. Nena is set for a CAT scan tomorrow morning, and I'll call you as soon as I know something, okay?”

            Officer Riley nodded in agreement.

            “You'll be my second call.” Dr. Earl said, turning to Lars, and then he left the room.

            Lars forgot the sandwich in his hand and the spilled coffee on his shirt. His focus was on the officer. Officer Riley sighed. His hard face, his ‘seen-it-all’ grimace, softened as he gazed at Nena.  “I always liked her; she's so polite and genuinely nice. It's the decent folks that get hit the hardest, such a shame. Seeing her like this breaks my heart.” He sighed again.

            Lars cleared his throat. “Cliff, I think it’s time you give us some details. Where and how was she found? We lost contact with her the day she left for Wisconsin and that was four days ago. Has she been taken right after she left? Is it true that you know who did it?”

            Cliff raised his hand. “One thing at a time.” He walked toward the remaining empty chair in the small room, unbuttoned his uniform jacket and sat down. Lars waited for Cliff to continue. Connie’s fingers tore apart a napkin. Does he know I was there?

            “All I can tell you is an anonymous call came in and we found Nena and a dead body in the abandoned warehouse district. Nena was covered with only a t-shirt, and he was naked. Nena barely breathing, he almost cold, dead for less than an hour when we arrived.” Cliff removed his hat and ran his right hand through the short, blonde, hair. His eyes rested on the unconscious woman in the bed. “Lars, there’s no easy way to say it, so I’ll be direct. The dead guy was Duane Beckwith.”

Lars chocked on his own spit. “What? No, he liked her, it’s a mistake.” He stuttered.

Cliff reached for his shoulder and squeezed Lars’ flesh. “Listen to me.” Lars turned toward the officer.

“The only reason I’m telling you this much is that headquarters is releasing his name to the local news. Right now, he’s been reported on the news as a John Doe, but that’ll change with tomorrow’s edition. He has no immediate family. Releasing his name might bring someone that knew him forward. I wanted you to hear it from me.”

The napkins on the table found a short reprieve from being shredded as Connie listened to Cliff. But she was worried. “What else should we expect to hear on the news?” Her voice was a bit too high and loud, even to her own ears. She cleared her throat.

Cliff turned toward her. “They’ll probably mention that we went over Duane’s apartment with a fine-toothed comp. And for the record, we found nothing. No computer, no phone, not even a handwritten note. Which is suspicious because unless Duane led an extremely boorish life or was a Luddite, there should be something.”

Lars’ head jerked, his fingers tapping Cliff’s arm to get his attention. “No, there has to be something. He had a tablet and a phone, he never left them anywhere, not even when he went to wash up.”

Cliff tilted his head to the right side, studying Lars’ face. “Yes, I remember.” He sighed, padded Lars on the shoulder and stood up. “To be honest, right now my boss thinks Nena did Duane in. Which isn’t bad per se because, honestly, there’s no doubt it would have been self-defense. But Duane’s apartment looks like someone cleaned it out. And since evidence at the crime scene indicates there could have been a third person, we're thinking Duane had a partner. Maybe it was a disagreement gone wrong.” He shrugged as if that explained everything.

            But Connie stopped listening. The napkin in her hand forgotten. Evidence. Cliff’s words echoed. Shit. Her fingers turned cold.  

            What the hell did I leave behind?