“Cheryl will take me.”
Ramsey considered reminding Paul that his wife could meet them at the ER, but she decided to save her breath. As Jay pulled out of the lot, Ramsey looked back at the store to see if there was any outside activity. Nothing. She wanted to ask Paul about his hurried exit from the store. Did it have something to do with his wife, or was it the police presence that was the impetus for him leaving? She wanted to know, but Jay’s presence and Paul’s pain kept her quiet. To keep her mind off what was happening back in paints, Ramsey gave Jay turn by turn directions to Paul’s home.
When they were about a mile from his house, Paul handed Ramsey his phone and asked her call Cheryl and let her know about his impending arrival. His wife was standing in the driveway still talking to Ramsey when they arrived. Ramsey ended the call and gave the phone back to Paul. Almost immediately her phone rang. She reached for it in her back pocket but before she got it to her ear, Jay thrust a long arm between the front seats and managed to knock it out of her hand. The phone fell on the floor and skittered under Paul’s seat. Ramsey unfastened her belt with the intention of retrieving it, but Jay had other ideas.
“Leave it,” he said. “If it’s important, there’ll be a message. Help with Paul.”
The phone rang three more times. It was a generic ringtone. She’d never set up a personal ring for Sullivan because she couldn’t settle on the right one. “O Canada” was in the running because of the Dudley Do-Right connection, but she wondered if it was disrespectful. The Canadians never offended anyone, so she wasn’t sure it was a good choice.
“Who was it?” asked Jay.
Ramsey was already getting out of the car. “I don’t know. I didn’t look.” She slammed the door shut and let that be the last word as she greeted Cheryl.
Paul’s wife had walked out of the house without a coat. She was wearing fuzzy pink house slippers, charcoal gray yoga pants, and a faded blue tee that she had tied in a knot above her waist. She hardly seemed to notice that she was shaking with cold. Her teeth chattered as she peppered Ramsey with questions.
Ramsey explained what happened without mentioning any of the goings on at the Ridge. “He needs the ER but he didn’t want us to take him. You’ll probably want to open the garage so we can help him into your car. He can’t drive himself.”
“Dammit, Ramsey,” Paul growled. “Will you let me speak for myself?”
Jay, who’d come around to assist, actually sniggered. He held out a hand to Cheryl Shippensmith and introduced himself. “I just happened on the scene and wanted to help out.”
She offered a grateful smile as the slim, manicured hand she extended was enveloped and warmed by Jay’s larger one. “Thank you. You’re very kind. I’ll get the door. I just need to change my clothes. Do you need me to help you get him in the car?”
“We’ll manage,” said Jay. “We have so far.”
Paul gave a shout that demanded everyone’s attention. “I want to go in the house and put some ice on this. I can go to the ER later.”
Cheryl frowned. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Paul.”
“And yet I’m set on it.” Paul leaned heavily on Jay’s arm when it was offered. “Do we still have your mother’s walker from her surgery?”
Cheryl nodded. “It’s in the garage. I’ll get it.”
Ramsey called after her to also get a coat. She gave Paul her shoulder to help him keep his balance and waited for Cheryl’s return. It took nearly twenty minutes to get Paul safely in the house and settled. Cheryl’s profuse thanks was embarrassing and Ramsey was almost grateful for Paul curtly cutting her off and telling them to get the hell out.
Ramsey heard her phone ringing again as she and Jay approached the car. She didn’t even try to get to it first. Jay stumbled a little when he tried to elbow her out of the way and she moved aside first. He glowered at her, blaming her for his misstep. She held up her hands and shrugged in the universal gesture of innocence.
Jay was able to sweep her phone from under the front seat with little effort. He looked at the call that had just come in and then tapped the recent calls to look at the one that had come in earlier. No identification. Probably robocalls. He started to pocket the phone, but when she asked to at least look at the numbers, he held it up for her to see.
Neither were Sullivan, at least not directly. She recognized both calls as coming from police dispatch. She’d seen them often enough over the years to know them. “Robocalls.”
“Figures. You want to get in?”
She didn’t, but there wasn’t an alternative. She climbed into the passenger seat and while he was walking around the SUV, she opened the glovebox and got out her key fob and the Walther. After pocketing the fob, she slipped the pistol under her jacket and bulky pullover sweater and tucked it into the waistband of her jeans at the small of her back.
“You never answered my question,” she said when he got behind the wheel and started the car.
Jay began to back out of the driveway. “What question was that?”
“How you found me.”
“Oh, you mean because you removed the tracker.”
“Yes.”
“Clever girl. I don’t need it as much as I did when I first arrived. I’m familiar with your haunts and I know you work at Southridge. You weren’t home this morning when I stopped by so I did some general reconnaissance. I was at the store a few times before I spotted your car and then you standing outside of it with that man.”
“Paul,” she said. “That man’s name is Paul.”
