“It looks worse than it really is,” Brooke said. “The EMT said they’ll probably just give me a few stitches. I’m fine, really.”
“You two,” the nurse said, pointing to Felicia and Lizzie. “Out.”
“Can’t they stay? Just for a few minutes?” Brooke pleaded.
“The doctor is finishing up with a patient now. When he’s ready for you, they’ll have to leave,” the nurse relented.
“I spoke briefly with somebody in the sheriff’s office while we were driving down here,” Gordon said. “They wouldn’t tell me much. Just that there’d been an incident over on Talisa and that two people were injured. I hope to God Gabe Wynant is the other injured party.”
“Gabe is dead,” Brooke said quietly.
“Good. Saves me the trouble of doing it myself.”
Brooke’s head felt like it was in a vise. “I don’t understand. Dad, what are you doing here? What’s any of this got to do with you?”
“You’re my daughter. You were nearly killed today. Why wouldn’t I be here?” Gordon said, bristling.
“Your dad called me this morning. He was insistent that I make you listen to the truth about Gabe,” Marie said.
“You always assume the worst about me,” Gordon said bitterly. “And Patricia. Who was only trying to warn you about that snake—”
“Gordon?” Marie’s voice held a warning note. “Let’s not get into the family dynamics. Just tell our daughter what you told me this morning.”
“Um, maybe we’d better let you guys have some space,” Felicia said.
Lizzie nodded. “We’ll go check out the coffee situation in the cafeteria.”
The two beat a hasty retreat.
“Gabe Wynant was the executor of Patricia’s uncle Robert’s estate,” Gordon began. “Robert Zehring founded Chatham Community Bank, which got bought out by a bigger bank in Charlotte fifteen years ago. Robert’s been dead six or seven years. Patricia’s aunt Ellie is in a nursing home, suffering with dementia, so Patricia’s been trying to help untangle her finances, but she could never get a straight answer out of Gabe. She started doing some digging and discovered there was some funny business with the trust accounts. We hired a forensic accountant and, long story short, discovered Gabe had been treating Ellie’s trust account like it was his personal piggy bank. Hundreds of thousands of dollars had gone missing.”
“And that’s not the only client he’s defrauded, right?” Marie looked at Gordon.
“I’ve been making quiet inquiries around town,” Gordon said. “There are two others that I know of. Gabe was slick, I’ll give him that.”
Brooke’s stomach heaved. She made it into the adjacent bathroom just in time. Marie was by her side in an instant, holding her hair as Brooke hunched miserably over the commode, then helping her back to the examining table.
The curtain parted, and a white-coated doctor appeared. “Brooke Trappnell? I’m Dr. Schaefer.”
“We’re her parents,” Marie said. “Can we stay?”
The nurse came in, bearing a plastic-covered stainless steel tray.
“Better not to,” Schaefer said. “Stitches and all. I’ll send for you when we’re done here.”
He turned to Brooke. “How do you feel?” he asked when they were alone, leaning in to look at her face. “This cut is pretty deep. Does your head hurt?”
“It’s killing me,” Brooke said.
“Nauseous?”
“Very,” she admitted.
He held a small penlight and examined her closer. “Does this light hurt your eyes?”
“Yes.” She winced, closed her eyes, and turned away.
“And how did you get these injuries?”
