Only Time Will Tell
Part 9
"She's doing much better now than when she came in," Dr. Allen commented as she escorted Tom to Janet's room. "The arm looks fine. She just needs to keep the stitches dry until next week. We'll take them out then. I've given her a prescription for mild sedatives which will keep her calm. She doesn't need to take them unless she becomes excitable or has trouble sleeping." Tom nodded his understanding. "I'm concerned about how she'll handle her husband's funeral. Have the arrangements been made?"
"I'm not sure," Tom admitted with a shrug of his shoulders. "I guess that her lawyer is assisting her with that."
"Someone should stay with her, at least until the funeral has passed, just to make sure she doesn't have any problems. I noted on her records that she was an only child. Her parents are dead."
Tom nodded, confirming the answer.
"You seem to care about her. I assume you'll stay?" The doctor looked at Tom with a slight frown.
"Uh. . .well I," Tom started to stumble for an excuse.
"If she doesn't have someone with her for the next couple of days, I don't feel very comfortable releasing her. She assured me that she wouldn't be alone," the doctor said over a raised eyebrow.
"I'll take care of it," Tom committed finally.
"All right," the doctor nodded. "Let's go spring Mrs. Cardinal."
Tom followed Dr. Allen into the room. Janet looked up quickly from her position next to the small closet and smiled at the new arrivals.
"I'm almost ready, Tommy."
"Take your time. We're not in a hurry." Tom looked into the small bag sitting on the bed. "Where did you get the clothes?"
"Stewart's secretary bought them for me. I'm sure it will be added to my bill," Janet responded sarcastically.
The other two chuckled. Dr. Allen approached her patient, "How are you feeling, Janet?"
"Okay. Tired, but okay," Janet replied with a slight smile.
"And the arm?" The doctor examined the dressing.
"Fine. It hardly hurts at all."
"Very well," the doctor nodded. "I'll have your release papers brought up and we'll let you out of here."
"Thank you, Dr. Allen. I appreciate what you've done for me."
"You are very welcome, Janet. Take care of yourself and if you need anything, give me a call." Dr. Allen nodded to Janet and Tom and then exited the room.
Tom turned back to Janet, "I'll take you by the house and you can pick up what you need. Then I'll take you to a hotel."
"You know it'd be much easier if you would just take me to your place," Janet suggested.
Tom shook his head, "We've already discussed this. I don't think it would be prudent to have you staying with me right now. We'll find you a suite in a nice hotel, maybe the Bradford, and I'll stay with you tonight. Then maybe one of Mr. Maxon's people can stay with you."
"I don't want Stewart's people staying with me. I want you," Janet looked at Tom, her eyes filled with anguish.
Tom nodded, "I realize that, Janet. But I can't stay with you all the time. I have to go back to work." Tom watched her gaze fall to the floor. "We'll work something out. Trust me."
Janet's head rose slowly as her eyes met his. "I do trust you, Tommy. I know you'll take care of me."
Tom said nothing. He only nodded silently.
Within thirty minutes the exit papers had been completed and Tom was escorting Janet to the Mustang. After making sure she was comfortable in the front seat, Tom slipped into the driver's side and pulled the Mustang onto the road.
Neither said anything for a long while. Tom glanced at Janet, but she seemed to be lost in thought. She concentrated her gaze upon the passing scenery. Suddenly, her attention was redirected back to Tom, "Why was Cassy so mad at me?"
The question caused a look of confusion to cross Tom's features. "What?"
"I suppose Cassy told you that we had a. . .well a. . .disagreement today."
"A disagreement? No, I haven't seen her since this morning. What happened?" Tom narrowed his eyes.
He could hear Janet's voice break as she spoke, "I don't know, Tommy. I called to ask for you to bring me home. She took the call and then she. . .she just attacked me." Janet's eyes turned back to the passing coastline. "It was horrible."
Tom said nothing. He didn't know what to say. Cassy could be sharp, of that he was certain; and she was never one to hold her tongue. He didn't want to believe that she would verbally attack Janet, but her behavior earlier that morning left room for doubt. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding."
Janet shook her head, "She was trying to hurt me."
Tom looked at the woman and shook his head, "Look, Janet. I'm not going to get into this with you."
Janet turned away quickly, "Fine. I just don't understand how you can let her get away with doing that to people."
"Janet. . .please," Tom's voice rose to a louder volume, the sudden change startling his companion. Janet turned away and redirected her attention outside of the car.
Within minutes, Tom pulled the Mustang into the driveway of the Cardinal home. He turned off the engine and glanced at Janet. She was staring at the house in silence. "Are you okay with this?"
Tom expected an angry response from the woman, but instead was surprised when she nodded and smiled, "Now that you’re with me, I’ll be fine."
Tom exited the vehicle and made his way to the passenger side, holding the door open for her. Janet climbed out of the vehicle, reached out and grabbed firmly onto Tom’s hand. Tom started to pull away, but Janet clearly had no intentions of letting go.
"I just need to get some things together. I don’t think it will take very long." She led Tom to the front door. She released his hand to dig through her purse and pull out a set of keys. She slipped the appropriate key into the lock and opened the door.
Before she could take a step into the foyer, Tom reached out and grabbed her arm. "Janet, I don’t know what the living room is going to look like. Things may look pretty rough in there."
"I understand," she nodded.
"There will be blood stains," Tom tried to further explain. Janet nodded silently. She took hesitant steps into the living room and her eyes were immediately drawn to the marred carpet near the fireplace.
Tom watched the woman’s reaction, not knowing what to expect. He saw her self-control falter for a moment and reached out to steady her. "Are you sure you’re okay." She nodded, once again.
"I’m going to get my things together," she finally commented. "Are you coming?"
"Do you mind if I grab a glass of water first?" Tom hoped to stall long enough that Janet would do the packing by herself, allowing him the opportunity to keep distance between them.
"Here, let me get that for you," she started to move to the kitchen.
"I can handle it. You go on up and pack." Tom said hurriedly, halting her progress.
She smiled and nodded, "Glasses are in the cabinet to the right of the sink." She then proceeded up the stairs.
Tom nodded, watching the woman make her way up the stairs and then disappear down the hallway. He walked into the kitchen, pulled a glass from the cabinet and filled it from the tap. As he downed the liquid, his eyes played around the room. The center-island in the kitchen housed a cutting board and knives. The knife holder next to the cutting board contained five knives. But there was an empty slot, which apparently had been where the butcher's knife was located. Tom walked back into the living room, suddenly feeling a tingling of doubt in his mind. Something was wrong. What that something was, however, escaped him. The more he tried to concentrate on the incongruity, the more the answer escaped him.
Tom's eyes were drawn to the stain on the carpet. He kneeled down next it, his hand automatically fingering the fibers. The light colored carpet had been dyed to a dark brown, the blood making the fibers stiff. He rubbed his fingers together, to wipe off the dried blood flakes, but was surprised when he felt a gritty substance. Upon closer examination, it was comparable to sand. He leaned closer to the carpet, the smell of the dried blood penetrating his nose. He ran his hand deeper into the carpet and found larger pieces of the sand. All of the grains were dark brown, the color of the dried blood. Dropping to his hands and knees, he ran his right hand over an area surrounding the bloodstain. He didn't know what he was looking for; he just hoped he would know what it was when he found it. He periodically felt the granules on his fingertips. He examined these closely and found that several of the pieces were white.
He directed his attention to the corner of the fireplace, where blood had dried into the pores of the hearth's white brick. He ran his hand over the discolored area, but didn't feel the same grit. Apparently, the white residue had not come from the brick.
He returned his attention to the carpet, rubbing his hand around a larger area.
Then suddenly, he found what he now knew he was looking for. It was a larger piece of the white substance; a fragment almost the size of a quarter, under the coffee table about three feet from the stain. He held it up and examined it closely. It was a white piece of pottery, the same color as the smaller, unstained particles and almost the same color as the carpet, which explained why it was so difficult to see.
Tom examined it closely and immediately recognized what it was. He shook his head in disgust. All of the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place at once and he now realized what had been bothering him earlier. Turning to the stairs, Tom made his way to the second floor.
End Part 9
To Part 10