Perception Deception Part 2: Audrey
by Rabid Raccoons
Chapter 9: Consequences
…
Robin spied Alan, standing over the grill, smiled, and waved a greeting at him. She stopped to dig a bottle of water out of the cooler, and silently regarded Colby while she twisted the cap from the bottle, then lifted the bottle to her mouth. The FBI agent was just a few feet away, clutching an unopened bottle of beer and looking absolutely bereft; as if he had lost his best friend. She followed the track of his eyes, and saw most of Don's team standing and chatting together: David, Nikki, Liz. Phil Wright was standing with them, and Robin was glad to see him. It did not behoove his position as Assistant Director to play favorites among his agents, and he certainly could not be expected to attend everybody's functions. He obviously had made an exception. Perhaps he wanted to meet the family from Idaho – Doris, Harry, and Sam – each, in her or his own way, responsible for keeping Don and Charlie alive last summer.
Even in the warmth of the fall day, Robin shivered. She took another sip of water and looked around for the Idaho folks. She owed them a debt of gratitude herself, and was happy to finally get a chance to meet them. When she had spoken to Don earlier on the phone, he had mentioned that Doris was making a blackberry cobbler, with her own berries: her new camp "administrator", as Harry had finally convinced her to call Arnie, had raided her freezer and shipped some to L.A., packed in dry ice. He had sent some trout for Harry to barbecue, as well. Don had mentioned that the stack of fish might even include the one he'd caught from the bank of the campground, distracting Robin with a deliciously sexy image of a bearded Don, casting the line from his pole. Everything had arrived just in time for the Alan Eppes-Doris Sackett culinary showdown which was the excuse for this get-together. Alan was countering Doris's cobbler with a Dutch apple pie, one of his own specialties. Don had warned Robin to wear loose clothing.
She lowered the bottle, intending to approach Alan and ask him to introduce her, since she hadn't seen Don anywhere. She decided at the last second to veer into Colby's universe. "Agent Granger," she greeted teasingly. "You look a bit perplexed. Waiting for someone strong to open that bottle for you? I could probably do it. I've been working out."
"Huh?" Colby started, as if jerked from a trance, and glanced down at the beer in his hand. He seemed almost surprised to see it. "Huh," he said again, then looked at Robin, grinning wryly. "Think I need something a little stronger, Counselor."
Something possessed Robin to say it; later, she still wasn't sure why she had made the offer. It wasn't as if she and Colby were especially good friends; he just looked so...disturbed, that she found it a little disturbing herself. She winked at him. "Follow me," she stage-whispered. "I know where they keep the good stuff."
Colby laughed, and allowed her to lead the way across the lawn, toward the Craftsman's kitchen entrance. En route, she turned her head toward him, slowing until he drew even with her. "I don't know what your problem is," she said, "but I had to park almost a block away. There's no more room in the driveway."
Colby was no longer grinning. "There's a lot to be said for the ability to make a quick get-away," he answered.
Robin wasn't sure how to respond to that, and remained silent while the two of them climbed the few steps that led to the back porch of the house. They crossed to the door, and Colby surged ahead of her, just far enough so that he could reach the door first, and open it for Robin. She suppressed a smile. Distressed or not, Agent Granger was, in essence, a country boy from Idaho, full of chivalry.
She was about to thank him when the door opened from the inside; the knob was pulled from Colby's hand, throwing him off-balance a little. Robin put a hand on his back, and Colby grabbed at the door casing. "Whoa," he muttered.
Robin peeked over his shoulder to see Charlie, wild-eyed, on the interior of the house. She started to speak, but Charlie was pulling at Colby's arm, trying to drag a man who outweighed him by at least fifty pounds, into the house. His voice was frantic. "Help him! Hurry! Don needs help!"
Robin stopped thinking, and started reacting.
...
The party was most definitely over.
Doris banged around in the kitchen until she found a stack of freezer containers. Then she began filling them up.
First, she sent the girls, Liz and Nikki, home with enough food to last the rest of the year – and the poor things looked as if they needed it. She loaded them up with things that didn't freeze well: macaroni and potato salads, deviled eggs, freshly barbecued tri tip (Alan) and trout (Harry). For a treat, she added generous helpings of blackberry cobbler, Dutch apple pie, fudge praline brownies.
Then, she had plenty left for both the refrigerator and the freezer. Creamed corn casserole, eggplant lasagna, green beans almandine. Homemade crescent rolls, homemade cinnamon rolls, homemade ice cream.
Eventually, she had to send Harry and Sam over to all the neighbors with a few samples of everything. She and Alan had been cooking for two days; they'd made enough to feed a few dozen people. Don had even grilled corn on the cob, that morning; something he had learned to do at the Fourth of July fish fry.
When all the food was put away; after the skinny young girls had left; while Harry and Sam were out delivering... Doris wandered around until she found the laundry room. She stretched on her tiptoes until she could pluck the bottle of detergent off the shelf, filled the washer out of the dirty clothes basket, and folded everything she found in the dryer.
Then she glanced for the twentieth time at the clock hanging on the wall high over the kitchen sink – and decided to look for the vacuum. She had to do something to keep her mind off what had just happened.
...
Liz looked up anxiously when Colby entered the break room. "Don?" she asked simply.
He shook his head. "Nothing, yet. David and I stayed at the hospital for three hours before Alan insisted we leave. He knew the team was scheduled to work tonight, and he said we needed some food and rest first." He grimaced; remember the awkward hours in the emergency room waiting area. The room was only so big, after all; it had been difficult for David to maintain his physical distance from Colby. But it had been obvious - at least to Granger - that Sinclair wanted to. On several occasions, Colby had almost confronted his partner; but it was neither the time, nor the place. So the two men had been as polite - and as removed from one another - as strangers.
Liz picked up a cup of coffee in each hand. "David said it was pretty obvious that Don's arm was broken. I hope that's the worst of it."
Colby scowled. "That would be bad enough; it's his dominant hand - comes in handy when you're shooting at perps."
Liz looked worried. "I hope..." She interrupted herself, and smiled briefly in greeting as David entered the break room. "Hey, David. Have you heard from Charlie, or Alan?"
He shook his head and walked toward the cupboard to retrieve his coffee cup. "Not yet. Nikki's out there looking in serious need of caffeine, though."
Liz rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I'd better get this out to her. I think the idiot tried to eat everything Doris Sackett gave us to take home." She started walking, but paused at the door, tossing her head toward the refrigerator. "That reminds me - Doris sent some steak, and trout...cobbler...I almost couldn't get it all in the refrigerator. Help yourselves."
Both men nodded their understanding. "Thanks, Liz," said Colby. He was leaning against a counter, next to the refrigerator; now, he moved to open the door and glance inside. After considering all the options, he decided to try something a little later. He closed the door, turned around and regarded David Sinclair's back.
Finally, Colby spoke. "Listen..." David's shoulder's stiffened, but Colby continued. "When Robin ran out to get Alan, and Charlie was pulling blankets out of the downstairs closet...it was just you, me, and Don."
David shrugged. "So what?" he asked the coffee maker.
Colby took a few steps forward, until he stood directly behind David, and lowered his voice. "So you heard what he said, just like I did. And just like me, you spent three hours with his father, his brother, and his girlfriend. Also just like me, you didn't tell any of them what Don said."
David turned around, defensive. "It wasn't my place. Don was in extreme pain, possibly concussed, definitely confused. Hell, he thought we were all out in the field somewhere, and that he'd been shot! There was no point in upsetting his family any more than they already were. Don was probably wrong, anyway; and even if he wasn't, he asked us not to say anything to Charlie and Alan."
Colby nodded. "I'm not disagreeing with any of that - I didn't repeat the conversation, either."
A guarded expression came over David's face. "So what are you saying?"
Colby crossed his arms over his chest, and widened his stance. "I'm saying that's what it was like for me, before. I didn't tell you what Wright and I were up to because I knew Don didn't want anyone - ANYone, not even his father - to know. I wasn't trying to disrespect you, man; I was trying to honor Don. I never thought that I...that I could be making a choice between my two best friends."
David's face closed, and he turned toward the coffee maker again. "That's the trouble with you," he muttered. "You never think."
...
Alan rose from the hard plastic chair and wandered to the edge of the carpeted waiting area. He placed one foot on the shiny linoleum and leaned slightly forward, craning his head to look first left, and then right. The pace of the emergency room was busy, bordering on panicked, but he did not see what he was looking for: he did not see anyone official headed in his direction. He sighed heavily, pivoted, and returned to the bank of chairs. He sank into one, settling between Charlie and Robin. "I just don't understand," There was a plaintive note of confusion in his voice as he looked at Charlie. "Tell me again."
"I told you," snapped Charlie irritably, rubbing at his head. "We were talking. Don grabbed my arm, and I jerked back. I didn't realize how close we were to the stairs, and I didn't expect him to lose his balance!" By the end of his speech, he was sounding slightly defensive. Amita, sitting on the other side of Charlie, placed a restraining hand on his leg.
Alan just continued to look confused. "But...why would Donny grab you if you two were just talking?"
Charlie's expression became clouded with guilt. "We were arguing," he finally admitted quietly, looking down at his own shoes.
Alan's face reflected his surprise. They had argued a few days ago, but he had thought that they had mended things. He echoed Charlie almost stupidly. "Arguing?"
Charlie dropped his hand from his head, and grasped Amita's. Despite their own earlier altercation, he needed to feel her now, steadfast and comforting. He was terrified over Don; worse, Charlie knew that whatever was wrong with his brother, it was his fault. He kept his attention on his shoes. "I had a headache," he said. "I was going to lie down for awhile in my room."
Alan remained flummoxed. "Why would that make Don angry enough to argue with you?"
Charlie didn't answer. It was apparent that he was growing more and more uncomfortable, and Robin tried to divert Alan's attention. "Maybe he thought Charlie was being rude to your guests."
Amita ventured a suggestion. "Do you want to step outside and call them? Check in?" She glanced at her watch. "We've been here almost six hours."
Alan looked stunned. "That long?"
Robin nodded. "Liz and Nikki stayed at the house, but they've probably had to leave by now." She pulled her own cell phone from the waistband of her slacks, and checked her messages. "David has called three times since he left; Colby, four."
Alan smiled briefly at the mention of their names. "I didn't think I'd be able to talk them into leaving at all," he said, "but I know the team has a stake-out, tonight. I remember Don telling me he could only have one beer; he was switching to lemonade no later than 3 p.m. ..." He gathered his legs under him and prepared to stand, again. "What's taking so long? Colby said Don regained consciousness before the ambulance even arrived!" He stood and loomed over Charlie. "That's right, isn't it, son?"
Charlie was saved from answering by the arrival of a doctor. "Family of Don Eppes?"
Alan whirled so quickly that he almost lost his balance. "Yes, yes! Please, what's happening?"
The physician offered a harried nod. "I apologize. X-ray was backed-up, and we had to wait for an MRI."
Charlie was standing next to his father, now. "Is my brother all right? His arm...the way it was...it's broken, isn't it?"
The doctor's gaze flickered to Robin and Amita, who were now joining the men.
Alan quickly processed the glance. "You can speak in front of these ladies; they're my sons' fiancées."
The doctor glanced at a clipboard in his hand. "Actually, Mr. Eppes signed a waiver to that effect." He glanced up, again. "You are Robin and Amita?"
Amita nodded and Robin offered her hand. "Robin Brooks," she said, introducing herself. "And you are?"
The busy attending had the good grace to look chagrined as he briefly pumped Robin's hand with his own. "Forgive me. I'm Dr. Anderson, the attending trauma physician on duty."
Alan took over as patriarch. "I'm Don's father, Alan. This is his brother, Charlie, and Charlie's fiancée, Dr. Amita Ramanujan."
Dr. Anderson raised an eyebrow slightly. "MD?" he asked, looking at Amita.
"PhD," she answered. "Astronomy."
Charlie interrupted, impatiently. "And another in mathematics. What about my brother?"
The hospital physician resumed his presentation. "You're correct about the arm. Don has an unstable distal radial fracture. An orthopedic specialist is with him now. Don requested a specific doctor, and the doctor has privileges here, so we were able to call him. I believe he's planning an ORIF – open reduction internal fixation – but he'll be out to discuss that with you soon. I'm here to discuss Don's paralysis."
...
End, Chapter 9
