Malicious Intent: The Bonnard Family Series, #4

By Gwen Enquist

Malicious Intent is the fourth and concluding novel in the Bonnard Family series….
As Anna and Jim settle happily into their new life together, mysterious events in Jim’s life spill over to hurt Anna and create havoc in their lives. Someone is orchestrating the destruction of Jim’s career and using
Anna as a catalyst.
Neither knows about the greedy plans that Allison Draper has devised, a way out of her ”pygmied life,” to be rid of her mother and live a life of freedom. Her plan to exploit the vulnerable takes a wrong turn and Jim‘s
precarious position reaches new depths.
Who is Petey Sloan and what has he to do with the Jim’s imploding world? How is he connected to Allison Draper?
Both Petey Sloan and Allison Draper put in motion schemes of such malicious intent that they threaten to destroy Jim’s and Anna’s life.
Previous novels in the series include: Phone Calls After, Beginnings and Fast Forward.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gwen Enquist
• Release date: Oct 14, 2017
• ISBN: 9780978352141

Gwen Enquist

Gwen Enquist discovered the fun and satisfaction of writing fiction in retirement. Enquist holds a Bachelor's degree in Nursing and a Masters' in Adult Education and has drawn on her 35-years of nursing experience to create believable characters who could be your relatives, your neighbours or yourself. She lives on Canada's west coast.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The car careened around the tight corner, tires screeching, leaving rubber behind, entered a horizontal slide slamming the passengers into the doors and windows. Glass shattered like thin ice. The driver fought the steering wheel for control as air bags deployed and smothered the two occupants. Flipping onto its roof the car came crashing to a stop. Thin winter air reverberated with the clank of metal settling onto asphalt. The silence deepened as the inky blackness of the country road surrounded the wreckage.

Some minutes later weak moans escaped from the car. A bloodied hand snaked through the door until it was fully open. The woman released her seat belt and fell hard onto her neck and shoulder. Crawling over the edge of the door frame, she swung her legs onto the asphalt where she rested until, with the effort of a survivor, she pulled her way onto the road. She collapsed there, breaths coming in heavy gasps, face tracked with blood, clothes torn. Barely conscious, she lay there until an approaching car rounded the curve, screeched to a halt and the shocked driver called frantically for help.

* * *

"Two incoming MVA vics! Females, one conscious, one unconscious.

ETA five minutes." The message sounded throughout the ER.

Staff scrambled into action. In the unflappable manner of a seasoned ER nurse, Anna Bonnard readied one patient bay with oxygen tubing, an IV starter set, checked the supply of latex gloves and other protective gear while her colleague, Marianne, set up another. This was Anna's element, the hectic pace of a trauma unit where decisions had to be swift or lives were lost. With twenty years of RN experience behind her, Anna had seen it all − the scalped victim, a pike staff through the chest, limbs torn off, burns covering the body. Far from pretty, it was exciting and the adrenaline rush addictive.

The ambulance crew crashed through the doors wheeling two gurneys with bloodied bodies wrapped in heat-saving foil blankets. Both women wore collars stabilizing their necks and oxygen masks in place. Two teams of medical professionals went into action, vital signs determined, IVs started and oxygen flowed. Anna called out the readings. One hundred over forty, ninety-six and thready. Anna touched the patient’s face. Can you open your eyes? she called. Do you know your name? She waved a flashlight over the pupils and found them equal and reacting.

Allison. Allison Draper.

Allison? I know you. I’m Anna Bonnard. Where do you hurt Allison?

My mother. Is she alright? Allison’s eyes roamed the room, her face a mass of small cuts smearing blood over her cheeks and chin.

They’re working on her too. We’re just getting info now and will be able to tell you more in a few minutes.

Dr. Tom McIntyre at Anna’s side, probed and assessed Allison, asking her where she hurt while Anna continued to monitor the blood pressure. Anna clipped an oximeter to Allison’s finger and recorded an adequate oxygen saturation level.

I hurt all over, but my shoulder and neck are the worst. A low moan escaped her lips. Tears leaked from her eyes.

Allison, Tom McIntyre said. I think you’re okay. From what the RCMP said you’re sure lucky. Just bruised and scraped, lots of small cuts. We’re going to watch you for a while and keep an eye on your blood pressure and pupil reactions. If you seem okay we’ll get an x-ray of your shoulder and neck. How does that sound?

Allison blinked acknowledgment. Anna continued monitoring vital signs, recording the levels. From the cubicle next door, Anna heard a doctor issuing orders for a CAT scan of the head. Allison’s mother was in rougher shape than her daughter. Can you hear me? Questions clearly heard between cubicles brought no response. Intravenous set-up suspended on a pole, Anna saw them wheel the elder lady down the hall for the scan. As she continued to assess Allison, she felt rather than saw a presence behind her.

Hey, Anna-love. Looks like we caught this one together. Anna's live-in partner, Jim appeared at the end of the gurney. Tall and lean with a runner’s body, he wore his winter RCMP uniform well. His cap was under his arm revealing curly sandy hair and he had a report pad in his hand. Can I talk to her? How bad is it?

She can talk but keep it short. She touched his sleeve as she passed by him.

Sure thing. Jim rounded the end of the stretcher and spoke in a low voice to the injured woman. Anna cleaned up some debris around the patient bay, putting away used equipment, some going to cleaning and some to await the next victim to come through their doors.

Thanks, Anna. Think I got what we need. It was black ice from the looks of the accident scene. Is she doing okay?

She'll be alright. I'm not as sure about her mother. Could be rough days ahead.

Okay. See you at home later. Hope it stays quiet for the rest of the night.

Fingers crossed on that. See you later.

The noise level settled to a hum as staff continued to assess Allison and waited for the next desperate wave of humanity to hit the ER.

* * *

Allison had been admitted to hospital for the night and by morning, she could just make it out of bed and to the bathroom. Cuts and bruises covered her sturdy body and she moved with small, unhurried steps. The nurses had told her to wait for assistance but, sometimes you just had to do things for yourself. Besides, she wanted out of here today. She had to show she could manage on her own or they wouldn't let her go. A light rap on the door frame brought her head up. A nurse she recognized stood in the doorway. Her scrubs told the story of a long, busy night shift.

Hi. It's me, Anna Bonnard. I saw you in the ER last night.

I remember you. And from somewhere else too I think.

Yeah. You're with Home Support aren't you? My brother-in-law's mother needed help and I was with him when he went to your office.

Sure, I remember.

Thought I'd check on you and your mother. It helps me sleep if I know how things have gone, for better or worse, after the ER.

I suppose it would. ER work must get the heart pumping.

It's always good to see a recovery like yours. The nurses tell me that your mother got back from the OR early this morning. They set her arm and leg and stitched up some cuts. She's conscious and knows where she is. That's all good news.

Yeah, they told me she'd be staying in here for a week or two. She can't use crutches with her arm in a cast so ... she lives with me, you know.

Well, they'll keep her 'till she's more comfortable and something can be worked out. Homemakers at the least. You could probably stand some support too.

Oh, I'll be fine. Some aches and pains but I expect to be back at work next week.

Well, take it easy and get help for a while. I'll let you rest now. Anna left; Allison remained beside her bed, thinking about being at home with her mother, not just an irritatingly weak, emotionally dependent mother, but one that was physically disabled as well. Thoughts whirled through her head and it was hard to keep the smile from her lips.

After using the washroom she walked into the hallway, moving along the wall for support until she reached her mother's room. The older woman rested in a slightly elevated bed, bandages covering part of her broad face, a cast on the right arm and right leg. Her face was swollen and bruised. We don’t look alike anymore; she looks like an eggplant, Allison thought. An IV snaked through the air and a collection bag hung from the bed frame. What a sight it was. Mother-Marnie was helpless, as helpless as a baby.

She walked into the room and approached the bed. Marnie's left arm holding the IV line rested on the top of the bedclothes. Allison gripped her mother's wrist and squeezed until she stirred and opened her eyes at the painful stimulus.

Hello, Mother. Enjoy this rest 'cause soon you'll be home again. Home to my care. Her tone held such malicious intent that Marnie cringed and pulled back at the words. Allison squeezed her mother’s wrist again and smiled before she turned from the room. Marnie stared wide-eyed at her departing daughter, praying for a slow recovery.

* * *

When Anna and Jim worked the same shift, without question, they ate better. Mornings after a night shift they made French toast and fruit salad to eat before sleeping. Or eggs and bacon. Or sausage and an omelette. Each looked forward to this relaxing time which helped clear the horror of accidents from their minds.

As she poured syrup on the eggy toast, Anna was finding it difficult to erase the images of old bruises on Marnie Draper’s body. When the elder woman came back from the CAT scan, Anna had assisted in her care. Marianne pointed out the yellowing and greenish bruises on Marnie’s arms and chest, clearly older than the accident that night. The patient was in no condition to be questioned about them and the nurses filed it away to be dealt with later. Some patients lingered in her mind long after her part in their care was done. She often saw things that were done to people, things that caused suffering and couldn't be undone. As a result, when she visited the victims on their hospital ward that morning, Anna had mentioned it to the nursing staff. That was her real reason for being on the ward. She wanted it documented as it had been in the ER and wanted to create an awareness in the staff about the questionable injuries. There might be a simple, rational explanation for them−or not. Abuse of adults especially among the elderly was hard to pin down and harder still for victims to admit to. Nobody wanted to admit that a loved one would hurt them or that they were so defeated that they continued to take it. Similar to spousal abuse with its denial, dependency and rationalizations on the one side and bullying and assault on the other, elder abuse was more silent and less noted by professionals.

You’re quiet this morning, Jim said. How was the rest of your night?

Anna blinked and cleared her head. Just one of those times when I’m reliving what we did all night.

That sounds tiring. That’s like working twice. Jim offered Anna more decaf coffee then poured just for himself. C’mon, off to bed, he said, standing. I'll clean up here. It'll just take a minute. He sipped some coffee and shepherded Anna towards the stairs. She climbed to the second level with heavy feet.

When she was well up the stairs, Jim went into the living room and parted the drapes to the front of the house. He couldn't go to bed without checking. The black Explorer wasn't there this morning. The whiff of paranoia that had settled on his shoulders over the last two weeks eased. It was nothing. He would sleep well today.

Chapter 2

The doctor had refused to sign her out yesterday but he would today. Allison ground her teeth, then, stopped when her face hurt. Her hair was matted with blood and road dirt and she could hardly wait for a hot shower. She bristled at the thought of more hospital time. Bruises had bloomed over her body but scrapes no longer bled and had scabbed over. Her body was easing into its bruised and cramped style, her tall, solid frame listing to the left when necessary as she found ways to move with the least pain. She could manage at home.

The doctor would be in to see her soon. She moved her legs over the side of the bed and tested her weight on the floor. Stronger than yesterday. She opened the bedside locker and pulled out the clothes she was admitted in. They were crusted with dirt and blood and caused her a moment’s pause. There was no one to bring her clean clothes. So, with a shake of her head and firm will, she started dressing herself to be ready when the doctor appeared. Every movement brought some pain but nothing proved impossible.

She waited impatiently, sitting in the bedside chair, until Dr. Reggie Parker appeared in the doorway.

Well, good morning, he said. You're looking ready to leave us.

"For sure.