The Passenger Page 5

  “I usually am.”

  “That’s true.”

  “What can I do for you, Pastor? Isn’t this like your big day?”

  Pastor Rick smiled. “You can say that. Anyhow, you know how we came up with that plan. Help a new stranger in need? Surround him with love and light, keep him company.”

  “Are you talking about Harold?”

  “I am. I spoke about him in service this morning. Everyone is very impressed he survived. He’s looked at like a miracle.”

  “Is Old Joe telling your congregation Harold was with Jesus?”

  Pastor Rick shook his head. “Chief, you don’t even need to tell people Jesus was there. All they hear is a young man survived a non-survivable car crash all while saying a stranger was in the car with him and he disappeared. They draw their own conclusions.”

  “Has Harold drawn that conclusion?”

  Pastor Rick chuckled. “In my brief meeting with him, I find it hard to believe he believes in anything.”

  “Is he still testy?”

  “That’s an understatement. I want to bring in the big guns to settle him …”

  “Big guns, meaning Marge?” Russ asked.

  “Yep, but she left for the sweet corn junket. She would smooth him over.”

  “You would think someone who walked away pretty much from an accident unscathed, one that should have killed them would instantly have a different outlook.”

  “You would think,” Pastor Rick said. “But it might take more or longer. Who are we to say the accident didn’t make him angry?”

  “We are not to say,” Russ replied. “But his grandmother is. I just spoke to her.” He nodded at the phone. “I finally got through. She said our Harold is not a very nice person. However, she is coming to claim him. She’ll be here the day after tomorrow, that is the soonest she can leave Paris.”

  “So, the amnesia isn’t helping his persona?” the Pastor asked.

  “Doesn’t look that way. But I think you can call off the goodwill efforts. I understand it was started because he was alone, didn’t know who he was …”

  “He still doesn’t.”

  “We do,” Russ said. “And that’s good enough. His grandmother can take him and find him the doctors he needs. We don’t need to waste our time trying to be nice to a bad seed.”

  “Ah, now see, Chief. I don’t believe anyone is a bad seed. Everyone has good in them. You just have to find it. God makes it a little difficult, but He always has a plan.”

  “Well, your plan may be to guide him …”

  “It is.”

  “My plan is to get that boy out of town, but not before citing him for a bunch of things.”

  “Are you serious?” Pastor Rick asked.

  “The law is the law, Pastor. He broke that law when he got behind the wheel of that car under the influence. It wasn’t any freak accident.”

  “So, he had a high blood alcohol level?”

  Russ shook his head. “No, but it was something else. His behavior, I’m all too familiar with that reaction. He was on something; we’re just waiting for the blood test to …” He glanced behind him and Doc Jenner stood in the doorway. “Speak of the devil. Sorry Pastor.”

  Pastor Rick just shook his head.

  Doc Jenner walked in. “I have been calling and texting you,” he said.

  “Sorry,” Russ replied. “I have been on the phone for an hour. What’s up?

  Pastor Rick asked. “Did you need me to leave?”

  “Nah, that’s okay. We don’t really worry about HIPPA laws.” He set a folder on the chief’s desk. “Dale ran the bloodwork on our Harold Whitmore.”

  “And?” Russ asked.

  “The only thing we found was GHB.”

  Pastor Rick shook his head confused. “I’m sorry, what is GHB?”

  Doc Jenner replied, “Gamma Hydroxybutyrate.”

  Russ added, “It is found in ecstasy. It’s called a club drug.”

  “Or,” Doc Jenner said. “A date rape drug.”

  Pastor Rick stammered some. “I ... I ... I don’t understand. Why would someone deliberately take a date rape drug?”

  “He took ecstasy,” Russ said. “That’s what it was.”

  “Nope.” Doc Jenner shook his head. “The levels were not consistent with ecstasy. See, the levels of GHB drop fast, they disappear, usually within eight hours even in the blood tests. Dale said he was given the GHB not long before the accident. So, either someone wanted to have their way with our accident man or …”

  Pastor Rick sunk into his chair with a heavy sigh. “They wanted him to die. They knew full well he was getting in the car.” He glanced at the chief. “Still want to cite him Russ?”

  “I don’t know.” Russ shrugged. “If someone wanted to kill that boy it confirms he is a lot of trouble. A lot more than we see. You still want to follow God’s plan and guide him?”

  “Actually, yes,” Pastor Rick replied. “Now, more than ever.”

  “I hear you Pastor, I do,” Russ said. “Just like I have to ask my self is it worthy of my time to cite him, you have to ask yourself is he worthy enough of your time to help.”

  “That’s where we differ, Chief. In my opinion,” Pastor Rick said. “Everyone is worthy.”

  TEN

  Cate watched her husband. He was literally beside himself and that was strange for him. At least him showing it.

  He paced as he spoke on the phone, out of earshot then back in. It was hard for her to piece together what was being said. She knew it was the police calling back and when the conversation stretched into several minutes, she relaxed knowing it wasn’t bad news.

  She worried it was.

  They had stopped by the local police station earlier and they said they’d get back to them.

  That didn’t set well with Grant. She supposed, like her, he felt helpless.

  He had gone on his own to Jonas’ apartment and to talk to his band mates. Grant even cancelled dinner with Jessie because he said he couldn’t keep his promise not to talk about Jonas.

  That wasn’t fair to Jessie. She always got pushed aside when Jonas caused concern.

  After that, he sat at the piano biding time and tinkling random keys until the police called him back.

  Finally, Cate heard the conversation end. Grant returned to the kitchen, nearly slamming his cell phone on the counter. He released it with such emotion it spun.

  “What did they say?” Cate asked.

  He shook his head and turned around. “They said they’ll make it an official missing person’s report in three days.”

  “Did they say why the wait?”

  “I don’t know, Cate,” Grant hissed in frustration. “Maybe because he’s an addict, maybe because they talked to the bartender and she said he left the bar alone. Maybe because he’s done this before. Who knows why? I told them Brett said he was fine. Angry about the fight, but fine.”

  “Did they say when they talked to the bartender if she saw him drive off?”

  “She told the police when she left there were no cars in the parking lot.

  “You think he’s just sleeping like you said earlier?”

  “I don’t know.” Grant shook his head. “The police said they called the Iowa State police, there were no accidents. He’s not been arrested. That we know of.”

  “But they checked?”

  Grant nodded. “That’s what he said.”

  “Do you think he’s sleeping it off somewhere like you said earlier?”

  “I don’t know, Cate, it’s eight o’clock at night. Although, he’s … done it before.”

  “Do you think …?”

  “Cate!” he cut her off.

  “Grant, please don’t get angry with me, I’m upset, too.”

  “Then show it. Show it. Oh, wait, that’s right, the sun is still up.”

  Cate scoffed a laugh. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means your neuroticism has a schedule. Weekends are the worst and, like last nig
ht, you’re ready to jump out of your skin thinking ‘that’ phone call is going to come. But, hey, when the sun comes up, you go to church and everything is fine.”

  “That’s not it, Grant.” Cate stood. “It’s because when the sun comes up, I realized how foolish I was getting over things I can’t control. And I’m calm after church because I feel at peace afterwards. That’s not to say in a few more hours I won’t be jumping out of my skin again.”

  “I’m sorry.” He exhaled and embraced her. “I don’t know why I am so uptight about this. You know, it’s not like it’s unusual for him to go missing for a couple of days.”

  “Maybe because you guys were arguing?” Cate asked.

  “That’s probably it. You know …” He cleared his throat and stepped back. “When you and I talked about the tough love thing, you used to say you didn’t want to do tough love and distance yourself then carry the guilt if something happened. I didn’t get it. I do now. I have been doing this tough love with him since his last stunt.”

  “Grant, you’ve been doing the tough love thing with Jonas his whole life.”

  “Are you saying his problems are my fault?” Grant asked.

  “What? No. Where is that coming from?” Cate spoke emotionally. “His problems are no one’s fault but his own. I’m saying you’ve always been firm with him. Especially the last several years.”

  Grant puckered his lips some, drawing in his emotions. “It’s been hard. Everything he was as a boy has been overshadowed by what he has become as a man. And I stopped seeing that little boy. I miss him. I …. I don’t even know the last time I told him I loved him.”

  “Grant …”

  “No.” Grant held up his hand, shaking his head. “It’s the what if. What if we never see him again? What was the last thing we said to each other? I’ll tell you, we didn’t part pleasantly. I …” In his own frustration, he grunted and stopped speaking.

  “When he did this two years ago … I couldn’t stop crying. Every time I closed my eyes, I’d see him in trouble. As much as I love Jonas, I can’t do this to myself again.”

  Grant emotionally chuckled, “Are you saying you’re going to be the calm one?"

  “I have news for you, you’re really not that calm. Just good at hiding it.”

  Grant gave his silent agreement with a slight lowering of his head.

  “Over the years, I have asked God so many times to send his angels to watch over him and I believe He did, that’s why we still have our son. I have no reason to believe He doesn’t have them out there with Jonas this time.”

  “I wish I had your belief,” Grant told her. “I wish I believed it so easily and with so much faith.”

  “It’s not as easy as I make it look. I mean like I give it to God, then you know, snatch it right back. But He only really lets me think I took it back.”

  Once more, Grant stepped in and embraced Cate. “You gave it to God, I gave it to the police. Either way,” he said. “It’s out of our hands.”

  ELEVEN

  Nothing made sense to him. Not the small town he viewed from his hospital window, or even the fact there was a hospital in a place that didn’t look like it held a lot of people. But what did Jonas know? He was like a foreigner in a new land, only he was a foreigner in his own mind.

  It had been four days since the accident. They told him it happened very early on a Sunday—he didn’t know that. Here it was Wednesday, and nothing had come back to him.

  Although, it was only the day before the swelling went down. Doctor Jenner said it wouldn’t take long, something would make it click.

  Nothing had yet.

  Jonas stared at the social media account of Harold, he visited the friends’ pages hoping something, anything would click.

  It didn’t.

  None of the pictures of the trips Harold took or parties he went to.

  Harold hadn’t updated his page in a long time, like he was hiding, which made him wonder if he indeed was Harold.

  He saw the resemblance in the face even though Harold had to be seventy-pounds heavier.

  The only thing Jonas remembered was seeing the mystery passenger’s face looking at him, saying. “I got you.”

  Did that even happen? For all Jonas knew it was his imagination, because he knew nothing else about that night. How he got into the accident or even out of the car and to the hospital.

  He was having feelings though, things he couldn’t make sense of.

  If he was really Harold then once the grandmother showed up, perhaps she could fill in the blanks.

  She was finally coming, delay after delay, last he heard from the Chief of Police she had landed at the airport.

  Doctor Jenner still did not want to release him, but he heard from a nurse it looked as if his grandmother was rich, so she would move him somewhere better.

  Anywhere was better, the Williams Peak Hospital was just so … plain and basic. Not that Jonas knew differently.

  He spent a lot of time staring out that window, he probably knew every shop in the radius he could see from his room.

  What else was he going to do? Look out the window, watch television, eat.

  “If I am going to come here,” the woman’s voice entered the room. “I really prefer not seeing your fanny poking out the back of your gown.”

  He slowly turned from the window to see the woman standing by the doorway. She was wearing a running suit. Not one she would exercise in, one more for comfort. She didn’t look rich.

  “Are you the grandmother?” he asked.

  “The … grandmother? Or Harold’s grandmother?” She stepped inside, set one of those paper shopping bags with the handles, along with her purse on the chair under the television. “No. I’m not.”

  “I thought you might be her. She’s supposed to get me out.”

  “I heard that, too.”

  “I told them no visitors.”

  “And I don’t care.” She stepped to him. “You look much better than the last time I saw you.”

  Instantly, there was something calming about her. He didn’t know the woman, but her eyes were so genuine and kind.

  “We spoke before?” he asked.

  “Barely. My husband and I were the ones who found you on the road,” she said. “I’m Marge. Some call me Margorie, Margie, or like most … Maw-Maw.” She pulled forth the other chair. “Mind if I sit? Doesn’t matter if you do.” She sat. “That feels better. Why don’t you have a seat? The window seat is nice, although you might catch a draft from the air conditioning.”

  Jonas backed up and sat on the bed. “They call you Maw-Maw? Who calls you Maw-Maw?”

  “The little ones. But some of the little ones are grown like you and their littles ones call me that.”

  “Well, some people call me Harold.”

  “That’s what I heard.”

  “I don’t believe it though. It doesn’t … feel right.”

  “Well, if it makes you feel better, I don’t think you’re Harold any more than you do.”

  “Why do you say that?” Jonas asked. “When everyone else does.”

  Marge leaned forward a little. “I saw the pictures. Harold’s lifestyle is lazy. No way would he be as thin as you. Speaking of which …” She stood and walked to the other chair, reaching in the bag. “I brought you muffins. I know you have to be hungry.” Marge walked back to her chair. “I was in here once for a broken wrist. Food is bad. I know Susan who runs the food service here. She isn’t that good. Don’t tell anyone I said that. Anyhow, I would have been here sooner, but I was on a junket.”

  “What’s a junket?”

  “Depends on who you ask.” Marge handed him a muffin. “It could be a pudding or a short trip. I had both.” She smiled. “I went to the Sweet Corn Festival.”

  “Doesn’t sound fun.”

  “How do you know? Last I heard you didn’t remember anything.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Well, a sweet corn festival might be your thing,” she said.
“Don’t knock it.” Marge inched his hand toward his mouth. “Eat your muffin.”

  ◆◆◆

  Russ saw her before she even saw him.

  It had to be her. Beatrice Whitmore. Harold’s grandmother.

  Not only didn’t she look like she didn't belong in Williams Peak, she also didn’t look like anyone from Nebraska.

  He watched her step from the fancy car parked across the street. She crossed the road without looking, expecting traffic to stop for her.

  Even though she was dressed to the nines, face made up, hair done, all Russ could think of was the movie Bye-Bye Birdie.

  The original one. The way she walked and moved, just flashed Russ’ mind to Albert’s overprotective mother in the movie. Somehow, he knew this woman was not that overprotective about Harold.

  Beatrice seemed annoyed, then again, Russ knew she had cut her vacation short.

  “He’s a very nice young man,” Russ said. “We will be sad to see him …”

  “Yes, yes. Where is he? Where is this hospital?”

  “I’ll walk you there,” Russ said.

  She chuckled. “No, I’ll drive and meet you there.”

  Russ gave her the ‘round about’ direction so he could get there on foot before she did and warn Doctor Jenner.

  But he didn’t make it there fast enough to give him the entire rundown before Beatrice made her approach.

  Doc tried pleasantries, but that didn’t work. Beatrice was no nonsense and went straight to business. A woman more annoyed with being inconvenienced than concerned with the wellbeing of her grandson.

  “Can he be moved?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Doctor Jenner told her. “But he should be in the hospital another few days. He sustained a head injury. And while the swelling has gone down, he doesn’t remember anything. We hope when he sees you it will come back.”

  “I already have a neuropsychologist on call for when he gets to Lincoln. I’m having him transported there. He’ll be moved tomorrow.”

  “We really do have the capabilities here,” Jenner said.

  “I’m sure. He’ll be moved tomorrow. Now … where is my grandson?”

  “This way.” Doctor Jenner motioned out his hand, then looked to Russ.