The Push Page 18

  The crowd, aghast at Brent’s collapse, started to gather around him.

  Lane watched as Philip walked to the discarded EpiPen, picking it up. He gave it a curious study before putting it in his pocket, juggling the two plates he held in hand. She fleetingly wondered if the extra plate was Brent’s before she started to snap commands at the crowding guests.

  “Let’s get the front door open! Come on, folks. Stand back!” Lane barked, turning to the crowd behind her, blazing sirens blaring outside the front door. She found Angie and Amy inching forward to see and briskly pushed them back, using her outstretched arm as a barrier.

  “You’re no help if you block the stretcher!” Lane thundered, jarring people out of their stupefied shock in an effort to get them moving. The stunned guests started to numbly back away as Kevin, standing behind the girls, gently pulled them to the side.

  Crashing through the doors, Ethan and Calvin pushed an ambulance gurney through Sue’s entryway. Jerry was there waiting for them and led them over to Gabe, who was still hovering over Brent’s prone body. Philip stood close by, the plates held in one hand and an arm around Sue, who stood at his side clutching her bottle of liquid Benadryl.

  Lane began directing most of the guests into the living room, making sure everyone was staying on the outskirts of the situation and out of their way. By the time she’d made it back, the EMT fireman already had Brent strapped to the stretcher and were rapidly walking him out.

  “He’s had a shot of Epinephrine from the EpiPen already. He’s going to need to be airlifted.” Gabe was running alongside, assessing them of Brent’s condition.

  “We’ve got a chopper on the way. We’re heading to the landing pad. Hop in, Gabe,” Ethan grunted, as he and Kevin hefted the gurney into the ambulance. Gabe, without hesitation followed the gurney and Kevin, while Ethan shut the doors behind them. A second later, the ambulance was tearing its way out of Sue’s driveway heading for the small landing pad beside the high school football field.

  “Think he’ll make it?” Lucas asked, his voice frail. He’d been standing in the archway between the hall and the dining room. He looked shaken, his eyes a little too wide, his lips tinged blue with shock.

  Lane walked over and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “I think they got him in time.” Her eyes fell down to his hands. “Lucas? What’s that?” She gently took a worn and crumpled picture from his fingers.

  “Uh, it’s a picture of Danie and Janie. I found it on the ground after they hoisted Brent onto the stretcher. I think it fell out of his pocket…” Lucas reached for it, but Lane pulled it back, holding it against her chest. “I’m going to need to keep this, Lucas.”

  “Sheriff.” Philip walked up and grabbed her gently by the elbow, pulling her to the side. “Excuse us, Lucas.” He handed her the EpiPen and whispered. “It’s expired.”

  “By how much? I know you can use them a few months after…” Lane was turning it around in her hand, trying to find the expiration date.

  “See the little bit of liquid left? See how discolored it is? It’s no good,” Philip’s voice was grave.

  “Expired two years ago,” Lane said slowly, her hands dropping to her side. She looked over at Lucas, who was being comforted by Angie, Amy, and Kevin, and then looked back up at Philip. “He’s not going to make it, is he?”

  Chapter 31

  Laced sunshine cascaded through the bedroom windows, creating a delicate pattern across the bedspread. Stretching her arms up in the air, she let them fall to her side like wings, moving her hands back and forth, relishing the feel of the queen-sized mattress below her. Taking a deep relaxing breath, Lane lazily sat herself up and threw her legs over the side of the bed, using her toes to find her fluffy pink slippers. She then casually grabbed the terry cloth robe slung over the chair by the door and wrapped it around her over-sized “Bigfoot. Hide and Seek Champion” t-shirt, shuffling her way across the foray into the living room.

  Giving way to a large yawn, she continued to pass through into the dining room, dodging moving boxes as she headed for the kitchen and the coffee pot. Having found both, she then slowly rummaged the cupboards till she found a tin of coffee and proceeded to make her first pot in the new place.

  It was while going through the practiced motions of filling the carafe with water, putting in the paper filter and carefully scooping the dry coffee grounds into the machine, her thoughts were free to recall the previous night.

  Brent’s friends had immediately left for the next ferry, intent on getting to the hospital as quickly as they could. While Lane, after a bit of elbow twisting and promises to keep everyone posted on his condition, managed to get Sue’s guests to gather up their crockpots and head out to their cars to go home. Philip and Jerry had stayed behind at her request.

  “Do we know what caused his allergic reaction?” Lane asked, lifting up the small plate Philip had said was Brent’s, looking at it closely. It held a scoop full of macaroni salad, six toothpicks, which had originally skewed tiny cocktail wieners, three Ritz crackers, some crab dip, and a half-eaten chocolate brownie.

  “Lucas said he was allergic to bees and tree nuts. Walnuts, almonds…,” Jerry said, popping a black olive in his mouth. “He must have eaten something made or contaminated with nuts.”

  Lane had walked over and was tearing into the few brownies left on the silver platter on the banquet table.

  “I already checked. There’s no nuts in the brownies.” Philip picked up a brownie and gave it a suspicious look before taking a big bite. “Tastes good.”

  Lane frowned at him and brought the brownie up to her nose. “I smell almonds.” She took a deeper breath. “I think they used almond extract instead of vanilla. Maybe even almond flour.” She looked over at Sue, “Do you know who brought the brownies?”

  “I have no idea. So many people brought food!” Sue said, her Pekinese wiggling in her arms, freshly freed from the laundry room. “I’m sure who ever did, had no idea Brent was allergic to almonds. I mean, everything being gluten-free is so popular now.”

  Lane nodded her head, agreeing at the same time her cell phone rang. She answered the phone and took the call in the other room.

  “If the kid was allergic to bees and nuts, why do you think he let his EpiPen expire?” Jerry asked, taking Sweetums from Sue, hoping to calm the little dog down.

  Philip shrugged, taking another bite of brownie. “How often do you check the batteries in your flashlight? You don’t know they’ve gone bad, till you go to use it.”

  “It’s not the same thing, Phil. He should have been more care—” Jerry stopped, seeing the look on Lane’s face as she walked back into the room.

  “Well? Is he gonna make it?” Philip asked, putting the brownie down.

  “He was pronounced DOA on the hospital’s helipad.”

  Lane’s coffee machine beeped loudly, announcing it was done brewing, abruptly forcing her thoughts back to the cottage kitchen. She poured a cup, then grabbed her notepad and cell phone, before heading out to the screened porch where she sat in one of the two white rocking chairs adorning it. Taking a tentative sip and inhaling the rich aroma of liquid bliss, she pushed the number two on her speed dial and waited, confident he’d be up to take her call.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Morning, Pumpkin! It’s good to hear your voice,” Retired police chief, Donald Lane said happily into the phone, then added cautiously. "Everything, alright?” With his children working in the line of duty, in either the police force or military, he never knew when bad news was coming.

  “Yeah, Dad. Everything is fine. Just calling you from my new place.”

  “So, you got all moved in, huh?”

  “Still need to unpack my boxes from the apartment which shouldn’t take long. Plan on moving everything from my two storage units on the mainland next weekend. But I’m fairly settled for now.”

  “Well, glad you were able to find a bigger place.”

  “Me
too. How are things for you?” Lane, who knew she should call home more often, sat back in the rocking chair and braced herself, waiting to hear about the slow goings of Montana and her dad’s absolute boredom with retirement from the police force.

  “Well, to be honest. I’m a bit bored.”

  Lane sighed. “I know, Dad. You miss the force.”

  Donald grunted. His daughter had heard his complaints plenty of times before. “You working on anything interesting?”

  “I am. And if you don’t mind, I wanted to run it past you. Get your thoughts?” Lane smiled, knowing her father would be more than happy to do so.

  “Let me freshen up my coffee, hold on.” Lane could hear him banging around in his kitchen before making his way to his favorite chair, putting up his feet. “Ahhhh. Okie dokie, I’m settled. Tell me all about it.”

  Lane proceeded to relay the circumstances of Janie’s fall and the coincidence of her twin’s death a year before in the park. Followed by her suspicions the two deaths were somehow connected. Reading from her notepad, she laid out what she and Philip had discovered. The variances in everyone’s recollection on the day of Danie’s death and the whereabouts of those who were in the park the day of Janie’s fall. She then told him of Brent’s demise and how she felt he was still the most likely suspect in Janie’s death.

  Since Brent was admittedly the last person to see her alive, had practically confessed to Philip he’d stalked Janie up The Mole Hill and had in fact, kept the picture from Janie’s backpack… Lane felt secure in her assumption. However, with his accidental death there was no way to prove it and in essence, the case was closed. Which was not setting well with her.

  “I think you’re right. Sounds like a dead end to me. No pun intended,” Donald agreed, then asked, “This ranger friend of yours. What does he think?”

  “He thinks I’m nuts. Though he agrees Janie’s death wasn’t accidental. He’s not convinced Danie’s death was. He thinks the two deaths being a year apart is pure coincidence.”

  “He could be right, Pumpkin.” Donald flipped back and forth between his pages of notes, his leather notepad worn thin through the years. “Anything come back on the granola bar wrappers you found up on the cliff?”

  “I’ll hopefully be able to find out tomorrow,” Lane sighed, feeling tired and frustrated.

  “And the camera’s memory card was never recovered?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, that’s no surprise. That would be like finding a needle in a haystack out in the wilderness like that.” Donald took a sip of his warm coffee and sat up a little straighter. “Speaking of cameras. Has your ranger friend checked the trail cameras?”

  “Trail cameras?”

  “Yeah. I knew a ranger here, working in the Glacier National Park, who caught poachers picking off grizzly bears using trail cameras. Think your ranger might have a few hanging up in his forest? Might have caught something?”

  “I don’t know. But I’ll be sure ask him.” Lane scribbled “trail camera” on her notepad and underlined it three times. “That’s a really good idea, Dad. Thanks.”

  “Well, I’m not senile yet! If I think of anything else, I’ll give you a jingle.”

  “Thanks, Daddy.” He was forever her hero.

  “Heard anything from your brothers?”

  “I plan on having dinner with Kent tonight. Mindy’s cooking is getting better, so I don’t feel like I’m putting my life in mortal danger every Sunday now.” Lane laughed. “I also got a postcard from Jimmy. He’s enjoying his conference in Norway. That serial killer lecture sure is taking him on a world tour.”

  “I got a postcard too. Starting to get a nice right pile.” Donald moved in his chair, trying to find a more comfortable position. “Lex is heading home for leave next week.”

  “Will you give him a big hug for me, please?” Lane sighed, “And please tell him he needs to stop calling me kiddo in his emails. He won’t listen to me.”

  Donald chuckled, knowing his sons used the affection nickname “kiddo” to get under her skin. “That reminds me. Clark was hoping you’d be able to make it out to his neck of the woods in the beginning of November. He thinks it would help to have you and your brothers support him on election night. You know, stand behind him as he gives his final speech.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Dad. Virginia is so far awa —”

  “LOIS… He’d really like you there,” Donald Lane used his “don’t argue with me, young lady” tone, which he’d perfected over the years.

  Lane quickly answered, “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. I’ll tell our future Congressman Lane. He’ll be happy you’ll be in attendance.”

  “Okay, Dad. Listen, I better get going. These boxes aren’t going to unpack themselves.” Lane stood up from the rocking chair and started her way back into the house.

  “Okay, Pumpkin. Love you and thanks for calling.”

  “Love you too, Dad. Bye.” Lane hung up the phone and started searching her phone directory as she walked back into the kitchen to refill her coffee mug. She found the number and punched send.

  “Hello?” A gravelly voice answered on the fourth ring.

  “Morning, Ranger. Thought you’d already be awake.”

  “Well, I am now.” Philip blinked his eyes a few times, pulling the phone back from his ear to squint at the phone screen. “Good grief! It’s six in the morning.” He put the phone back to his hear. “Lane, it’s my day off and I’m allowed to sleep in. Call me back in four hours.”

  “I just have a quick question,” Lane said, hurriedly into the phone.

  “What?” Philip swiped up an extra pillow from the end of the bed and tossed it behind his head.

  “Do you have trail cameras in the park?” Lane put her cell phone on speaker, placing it carefully down on the kitchen table.

  “Uhhh… Yeah.” Philip sat up. “I use them for keeping an eye on where the wildlife is roaming the most and to catch the occasional poacher.”

  “Any posted near or on Indian Flat trail?” Lane hefted a cardboard box onto the round table, the word KITCHEN written in black marker on the side.

  Philip frowned in concentration. “Yeah? Actually, I think we do.”

  “Any chance it might have footage from over a week ago?” Lane pulled the packing tape off the top and opened the box, peering inside.

  “Depends. It’s a motion sensor camera. So, depending on how much traffic has come and gone, it may have run out of memory. I usually send Kody out to check them, so I’ll have to find out when the last time he did that.”

  “Would you mind doing that today? I know it’s your day off.” Lane pulled a pile of dish towels and oven mitts out of the box.

  “I suppose so. It’s just a matter of pulling the memory cards.”

  “Thanks, Phil.”

  “You hoping to find Brent following Janie on camera?” Philip closed his eyes, remembering Brent’s swollen face from the night before.

  “It would tie up the loose ends. Put my mind at ease.”

  “Well, if he did kill Janie, then it would mean Danie’s death was really an accident.”

  “Why? His whereabouts were unaccounted for. Everyone admits they didn’t see him until he came running out of the woods and we only have his word, which isn’t apparently worth much, that he was wandering around looking for wood. Maybe they fought over Janie? Maybe Danie didn’t like that Janie had moved to Washington and wasn’t returning back with her to Pennsylvania?” Lane opened a kitchen drawer and started placing the kitchen towels inside. “You know, we never did find out what Danie thought of Brent? We just assumed she was happy for her sister. What if she didn’t approve of him? Maybe she and Brent got into an argument? Brent, angry, pushes her down into the jagged rocks below, where she hits her head. When she eventually resurfaces, he yells for help and runs into the woods. Then, after everyone has arrived on the scene, he makes his gallant effort to save her.”

  “But you’d have no way of proving it.
It’s all speculation.” Philip, giving up on going back to sleep, flipped his sheets off and sat on the edge of his bed.

  “True. But if I can prove Brent was stalking Janie, I could get a warrant for his place. Who knows what I might find then?”

  “Alright, I’m getting up. Hold your horses,” Philip said, through a yawn. “Sheesh, you’re grouchy in the morning.”

  “I’m sorry?” Lane looked at her phone, surprised at his words. “I don’t mean to sound that way. If it’s that big of a bother, don’t worry abo—"

  “No, I wasn’t talking to….” Philip stopped, and stretched. “I’ll do it this afternoon, Lane. It’s no bother, really.”

  Lane suddenly wondered if Philip had company and a surprising jolt of jealousy shot through her. She shook her head, scolding herself. It was none of her business if Philip had someone spend the night.

  “Appreciate it, Phil. Listen, I’ll even treat you to lunch at my office tomorrow, when I get back from the coroner?” Lane offered, still distracted by who might be in his bed. “Unless, you’ve got plans...”

  “Nope. Works for me. As long as it’s not ferry boat clam chowder. Talk at you later.”

  Chapter 32

  Before setting off into the woods as promised, Philip stopped by the ranger station to look over Kody’s records. Quickly verifying the camera’s locations and the last time they were scheduled to be checked, Philip felt a mixture of encouragement and disappointment. Kody’s slipshod records showed the young ranger hadn’t bothered to check them in over a month. Irritated, Philip had half a mind to send Kody out to retrieve the memory cards himself, while he went back home and actually enjoyed his day off. But being a man of his word, Philip headed out on his own.

  Finding the trail cameras was easy enough and he was pleased to note both cards still had memory space. So, the chances of actually catching something on them, in Philip’s opinion, was pretty dang good. Trekking himself back out, he popped into the ranger station to say good-bye to Kody and put a bug in his ear about doing a thorough job. Unfortunately for Philip and fortunate for an out of town camper, he ended up helping pull a RV out of a ditch with the help of Rowles’s towing. All in all, the errand had taken longer than he expected, resulting in a half day of work under his belt and missing out on lunch.