~ Deceptions ~

by

Gini Wilson

The weather suited Cole Hardin’s mood--dark, angry and full of unleashed energy. Wind howled across the highway, trying to whip the Jeep GC from his control as he moved into the center lane, allowing a van to enter the Interstate from the frontage road. Rain continued to bounce against the windshield pushing the laboring wipers to work harder than their manufacturer had ever intended. A little cooperation from mother-nature by way of providing a break in the weather was seemingly too much to ask. That would make following the McKane woman much too easy.

He had lost her a couple of miles back when a funeral possession, of all things, moved onto the highway in front of him. And he knew that if he didn’t catch her soon, it might take days for him to track her down again. Days he couldn’t really afford to waste.

Lightning split the darkening sky, illuminated a single-vehicle accident with an ambulance pulled parallel to the road. The scene off to the east on the other side of the frontage road bordered the highway. He figured it was probably a simple case of driver error until another flash of lighting bounced off the black Expedition jammed against a stand of scrub oaks. Recognizing the boxes packed to the ceiling in the vehicle, he knew he’d finally caught up with Janine "J. J." Jaxon McKane.

Hard to believe she had been traveling too fast on the wet pavement. The woman he’d been following for miles, and whose file he had studied so often of late, was not a screw-up. Such accidents were certainly common enough when the weather tried to tear Central Texas apart. But from what he knew of her, J. J. McKane was a take charge lady who was always in control of her own life and almost everything around her.

He drove off the Interstate onto the frontage road realizing immediately that he’d made a big mistake. There was no way he could get back to the accident scene on the one way road without breaking the law. He pulled onto the verge, letting the engine idle while he decided what to do. As he watched in the passenger side-view mirror, a police unit pulled into the muddy accident scene. Two minutes later the ambulance pulled onto the road with lights and siren going full blast.

Cole stayed put until another police patrol car, following the ambulance, passed him. He waited a few more seconds then followed the two vehicles at a discreet distance. Checking landmarks so he could find his way back to the interstate, he noticed a Chili’s and an IHOP across the highway as the ambulance and patrol car turned east onto H. K. Dodgen Loop #363. A few minutes later they took an on ramp to an over-pass. When the light turned green, they turned left onto 31^st Street and up a small hill to a sprawling hospital complex on the east side of the street.

He lost the patrol car as soon as it turned off 31^st at a sign reading Emergency Entrance. With a lot of luck and a ration of nerve, he might be able to pull off the old "is my wife here?" story. In the past, that particular opener had given him information he couldn’t have gotten any other way.

Cars, whose drivers were obviously looking for a place to park close to any door, slowed his progress. Near the ambulance entrance, he spotted a police patrol car in an "Officials Only" slot. Cole chose its mate three cars away and hoped this ER was busy enough for him to get lucky and prayed his Jeep didn’t get towed for being in an unauthorized space. He hit the door at a dead run through the rain, shaking the moisture from his shoulders much the same as any wet animal.

After giving the admittance attendant insurance information for his "wife," he was sent into the ER where he could answer the doctor’s questions about Mrs. Hardin’s medical history. They were not only busy, but every age and nationality seemed to be in attendance. Children played on the floor near their parents or guardian’s feet. The sick huddled into themselves seeming to shelter from the noise and damp air.

Cole found himself facing a man about his own age who was somewhat shorter and heavier built. The guy introduced himself as Dr. Jefferson.

"For the record, Doctor Jefferson, her name is Janine McKane Hardin not Jane Doe. When can I talk to her?" He hoped he’d put just the right husbandly concern in his voice.

"Didn’t they tell you? She’s still unconscious, Mr. Hardin."

"Is she going to be all right? Can I see her?"

"You can sit with her for a while, but don’t try to wake her. We want her to do that on her own."

"Anything you say, Doctor."

Cole sat in the curtained-off area watching a pale Janine McKane. A knot on the left side of her forehead had turned a vivid purplish-red. She would have the grandfather of all headaches when she did awake.

Voices on the other side of the curtain drew his attention.

"The law invades. How are you, Travis? You here about the woman they just brought in from the accident on I-35?"

"That’s the one."

"This seems rather routine for an investigating Sergeant."

"I happened to be first on the scene. I’ll probably be handing it off to whoever is on duty as soon as the weather settles down. Until then, I’m the officer of record on this one."

"Just surprised to see you, in-so-much as you usually ride a desk these days."

"The weather brings everyone out. So what have we got here, doc?"

"You mean the concussion from the General Bruce Drive accident?"

"That’s the one. How is she?"

"Medically, everything seems to be rather routine, for someone who banged her head on the steering wheel of an out of control vehicle. We will know more in an hour or so. You’re more than welcome to hang around. As usual, the coffee’s hot and the conversation isn’t bad either."

"I can stick around long enough to warm up and dry out. Of course, everyone is on the road with other emergencies so I caught this one. This kind of weather always runs us short."

"Like I said, Travis, have some coffee and take a load off your feet."

"I can use the coffee. It’s cold and wet out there. I left a rookie at the accident site until the tow truck could get there to pick up the SUV she was driving. The young woman seems to have most of her belongings in the vehicle. According to the registration, her name is Janine McKane and she lives in Corpus Christi. Does that check with what she has to say?"

"She hasn’t said anything yet. She’s still out."

"Damn, I was hoping I could wind up this one and get home early this afternoon. Guess I’ll have to stick around for a bit. I’ll welcome that coffee you offered. Busy as it is, the office will have to wait for a while."

"We have more than our share here at the hospital, too, primarily because the damn fools don’t have sense enough to get in out of the rain. If they stayed off the roads and managed to keep their heavy feet off the gas pedal when it’s like this, we could all take a break."

"You know that if they did that, it would make our lives too easy, Doc. Some things just have to work out in their own time. Not to change the subject, but have you drawn blood on the woman?"

"Yes, and her name is Janine McKane Hardin. And we took blood as soon as she was stabilized."

"Hardin?"

"Yes. We had her husband sign the consent forms, after the fact, for the blood."

"Husband?"

"Yes. He came in a few minutes ago."

Cole wondered if he was going to get his cover story past the law officer as easily as he had the receptionist and the doctor. He should have known that things were going a bit too smoothly. Meanwhile, the advantage of listening to their conversation gave him an edge. He wasn’t sure just how much of an edge, but he’d take anything he could get.

"Good, I’ll talk to him in a minute. Was she positive for alcohol?"

"You’re a cynic, Travis. All tests are negative. No alcohol--or drugs, if that was your next question--not even an aspirin."

"You know me too well, Doc. Anything wrong besides the concussion?"

"Nothing that we’ve been able to find, no broken bones and no internal injuries. I’d say she was one very healthy young woman who exercises regularly with some time spent on a weight bearing regimen. She’s not bulky, just has a lot of muscle for a woman. But just in case we’ve missed something, I’ve ordered an MRI of the head. Five will get you ten, it’s clear."

"Gambling? That doesn’t sound like you, Doc. Anything else I should know about?"

"We won’t know anything else until she wakes up. But my best guess is no. I think she just lost control of her vehicle on the wet highway and is paying for her recklessness with one hell of a bump on the head. I’ll deny I said that if you quote me."

"Now who’s the cynic, Doc?"

"I guess you’re right, Travis."

"Don’t sweat it. That’s what I thought, too, until the office forwarded a call from an eighteen-wheeler who was a couple of vehicles behind her. He swears she was run off the road by a 4x4 stretch-cab 3/4 ton pickup with over-sized tires. First it rammed her from the rear, twice. When that didn’t rattle her cage enough to send her off the highway, the 4x4 pulled up beside her and shouldered her off the road almost losing it himself. The big rigger was too far back to get a license number."

"If that’s the case, why did you ask me about alcohol."

"Thought maybe I’d get lucky and find that it was all part of a two party quarrel. You know, too much to drink or tried to run over him in the parking lot. Or chase ‘em and bounce ‘em off the road because you smiled at someone else. That kind of quarrel. The accident could have fit that profile, but no such luck. No cut and dried answers."

"Mrs. Hardin doesn’t look like much of a party person. Sure makes one wonder why she was run off the road, though, doesn’t it? So, what have you found out about our patient?"

"I’ll have to get back to you on that, doc. I haven’t had a chance to check."

"It’ll be interesting to know what really happened out there on I-35."

"I’ll go along with that. When can I talk to her?"

"You know the answer to that as well as I do. Unless I miss my guess, she should regain consciousness soon."

"When is soon?"

"The usual. It could be any time. Today, tomorrow, next week. Your guess is as good as mine. But I think it will be in the next hour or so."

"Okay. I’d better talk to the husband. Where is he?"

Cole had wanted to break into their conversation when the officer started talking about Jan being run off the road. However, he figured he could discover more of what was going on by staying put until the two men were through talking.

Reluctantly, he stepped out from behind the curtain on cue.

"Right here, Sergeant."

"Mr. McKane?"

"No. The name is Hardin, Cole Hardin." He shook hands with the deputy.

"Sergeant Travis Ransom, sir. Temple Police Department. How come your names are different?"

"Like so many career women these days, she uses her maiden name professionally. What can I do for you, Sergeant?" Just stay cool. Answer what you can and pass on the rest.

"Any idea why someone would ram your wife’s car from the rear then run her off the road?"