The Friend in Question

By Jessica Lyn Elkins

When Katherine Phillips, a well-known community leader with a failing marriage, accidently strikes a pedestrian who steps in front of her vehicle on a snowy day, she has no idea how her life will change. The unconscious victim, an unidentified homeless person, is taken to a hospital. It isnt until police release a photo that Katherine realizes the person is someone from her past.

Growing up in a small town, Katherine and Myra Martin met in elementary school and were best friends until high school graduation. They lost contact as their lives moved on to college and careers. How far will a friend go to learn what happened in the intervening years? Katherine is determined to learn the truthbut what she discovers may upend not only Myras life but her own as well. As family secrets, fraud, and betrayal emerge, both women come to know the truth about the consequences of their choices.

In this novel, two childhood friends are reunited and soon find that secrets from the past entangle them and unknown connections between them complicate the present.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Oct 14, 2015
• ISBN: 9781491778432

Jessica Lyn Elkins

Jessica Lyn Elkins grew up in a small town in Texas. She earned a BA from the University of New Mexico and graduated from St. John’s College of Santa Fe with a MA in liberal education. She has worked as a general contractor, ice cream shop owner, and human resources manager. Her first novel, The Friend in Question, was published in 2015. This is her third novel. She and her husband live in Gainesville, Florida.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Will we be friends forever? she whispered.

Yes, that’s how it will always be was the soft answer.

**

The Present: Katherine

It was snowing lightly, and the wind was howling across the bridge over the interstate. The road was icing up. A traffic cone that was on the median blew over suddenly. I saw two pieces of paper fly up into the air. The papers whipped around, shedding small flecks that blended into the snowflakes. It made me think that they had just been torn out of a notebook, leaving the small hanging squares on the side of each page to be caught by the wind and swept away. I remember how I could not see too clearly and had just looked down to turn on the wipers. I did not see anyone standing by the railing of the overpass, though most surely the person was there. My mind had been racing to decide how to pick up Melissa at school and get to the math competition on time. We might be late. Then I was shocked by a horrifying thumping sound, and I saw a dark bundle of a large brown coat that seemed to encase a human shape roll across the hood of my car. I caught a glimpse of a tattered green stocking cap, and then it was gone. I braked the car to a sliding stop and felt like I had stopped breathing. No other cars were on the bridge, which seemed unusual for that time of the afternoon. I slowly opened the car door and looked down the side of the road. Something dark was lying in the road. I could see a pair of men’s shoes that looked attached to a heap of clothing. I glanced at my reflection in the rearview mirror, turned on the hazard lights, slowly opened the car door, and stepped out onto the slippery road. A few feet behind my car, the bundled body was still. I heard desperate animal-like sounds. The sounds of moaning came from the person on the road. I approached and bent down to see a face framed by a dirty, frayed green stocking cap. The person was contorted in pain and looking directly at me with pleading eyes. Another car came slowly driving up the bridge. A battered blue van stopped behind us. I raised my arms and waved frantically for help.

**

Hold my hand till we get over this hard part, she pleaded.

I’m right here was the response.

**

The man in the blue van who stopped was helpful at first. He dialed 911 to report the accident while I stood bent over the person lying there.

Can you hear me? Can you hear me? Help is on the way. Please, God, let this be okay. Can you hear me? I kept repeating in the direction of the dark bundled shape on the road.

Wasn’t I supposed to wait until the people who knew what to do arrived? I didn’t think an injured person should be moved. Blue Van Man turned on his hazard lights and bright headlights to help illuminate the road. I heard the approaching sirens of the emergency vehicle screaming from the other side of the interstate. It sounded like they would be there quickly. The man approached and knelt by the person. Together we peered at the partially muffled face and the dark, heavy, ragged woolen coat that seemed to envelop something skinny and fragile inside. The eyes were now closed tightly, and the mouth was open. We heard heavy breathing.

Is it a guy? he asked. Good God, what happened? Did he step in front of you, or what? I don’t see any blood. Here are the 911 guys, he said curtly. Shit, what a mess this is. I’m already late. Are you okay, lady? You are shaking.

I nodded in the direction of the shape on the road. Is it going to be okay? I asked quietly.

Two men got out of the ambulance and rushed over, bags in hand. One was very young and blond, with a crew cut and baby face. The other one was older and was carrying a large set of medical bags; he had tired brown eyes and a small dark, wispy goatee.

So what’s happening here? he asked.

I plunged in with my story. I didn’t see him. He must have stumbled from the sidewalk there. All I saw was the papers, and then it hit my car, I said weakly.

Why did I sound so fragile, so scared, so whining and pitiful? This was not me. I didn’t want to make things worse, but I was not asserting myself. I wasn’t at fault here. How could this be happening to me? I needed to call Melissa and tell her I would be late. Maybe Grant could pick her up and still get to the math competition. She really would be upset if she didn’t get there in time to participate.

The two young emergency medical technicians, in their sharp blue-gray uniforms, impressive bags, and most efficient manner, bent over the shape on the road. These men were used to saving a life, patching up somebody, and getting things straightened out as to what happened. As they went through their procedures, no questions were asked of me or Blue Van Man, who had stopped talking to me and was now visibly agitated. He was standing by his blue beat-up van.

The blond one turned to me and asked, Any idea who this is? Funny question, I know. We will need to look for some identification. Got to get this one to the hospital and check for anything broken. He’s not really conscious, but we can’t find any external bleeding. Hey, Brad, radio them we are coming in with a John Doe. Probably a homeless guy—just what they need. Now, lady, the cops will be here in a minute. You need to stay and tell them what happened. We are going to load this one up. And your friend over there in the blue van needs to hang around too.

The young man with the goatee was still checking out the person when he grunted something I could not hear to the other. Blue Van Man came over from where he had been leaning against the side of his van.

I need to get going. I did not really see the accident. Just drove up after it happened, and she waved me down. Getting dark, and I gotta be somewhere, like half an hour ago. The driver of the blue van was clearly impatient. The emergency technician looked at him with barely concealed disdain.

Just hang on, sir. You need to tell your story to the cops, along with the lady here. Where are those guys anyway? ‘Yep, be here in no time’ is what they always say, but today ‘no time’ didn’t happen, did it? The technician looked over at his partner, still knelt over the person on the roadway and adjusting some type of neck brace around the head and neck of the still body. He rose, walked to the back of the red-and-white emergency vehicle, and started pulling out a gurney.

Okay, okay, let’s do it. Oh, yeah, here are the cops now. Let’s start loading up, Gus. Enough of your yakking—let the guys in blue do the talking, said the older technician.

The blond guy was Gus, and the other one with the goatee was Brad. Funny how they never introduced themselves. I guess I was supposed to look at the name badge or something. The police car came over the bridge with lights flashing, but the sirens were now quiet. Must not have thought it was a big emergency or anything, I thought. Well, it sure is to me. Okay, settle down. I’ve got to tell them what happened and how the person just fell over my car or something. God, Grant is going to be upset with all this mess. Maybe I should tell Brad and Gus again that it was not my fault. I did not see the person until he hit my car. As I saw them loading up the strangely still body, one hand fell off the stretcher and pointed straight at me, palm up, with a helpless, searching gesture on the face.

**

Hello, the voice on the phone said cheerfully. Are you too busy right now?

Never too busy for you was the quick response.

**

An Hour Later

As I finished the report to the officer, my head was spinning and I felt slightly nauseous. On top of that, I had gotten very chilled standing on the bridge so long. The light snow had stopped, but the wind was brisk. As the driver of the van was being questioned by the officer, I had called Grant to pick up Melissa, hoping they would make it to the math competition in time for her to sign in and compete with her school team. Grant’s office was only a mile from the school, east of the interstate, and he could get there quickly. The conversation was short.

Grant, I have been in an accident and need for you to get Melissa from school right now. Yes, yes, I am okay. Just need to finish up here. Just a little dent on the hood of the car. Don’t know much about how the person is or what will happen next. Yes, someone else was involved, and I will have to explain. Okay, I think I should go by the emergency room and see what I can find out about the condition of the person. Okay, okay, I will call James.

James Brownlow, our attorney and good friend, was always there for business and personal advice. I could always count on James to be calm, collected, and on my side. He would know someone else if this was something he couldn’t handle for me. The officer was nice enough to ask me to sit in the patrol car while he took my statement. I was glad my statement came after the talk with Blue Van Man, who I was convinced was an obnoxious jerk. Blue Van Man kept telling me and the officer that he did not see anything until he drove up and saw me waving and the body was already on the road.

Didn’t see the impact, nothing. Just want to get on my way, he whined.

His name was Art Johnson, and he wanted to get on his way. As he was leaving, he told me the ambulance driver said they were going to the downtown emergency room.

As I went back down to my car and started up the engine, I checked the time. Good God. It had been two hours since I left work to drive to the school for Melissa. How can life be so unpredictable? Don’t I have enough to do, and now this? This could take quite some time to get straightened out. What am I saying? Someone has been hurt, and even though it wasn’t my fault, I need to feel sympathy here. Do the right thing. I headed the car off the bridge and onto the on ramp of the interstate heading south toward downtown, where someone, identity unknown, was in the emergency room perhaps badly injured. This whole thing impacting my busy life was just another complication I would have to figure out. I was good at solving complicated problems, as that’s what I did all the time.

Arriving at the hospital complex, I drove around for several minutes. I finally found a parking place in the crowded hospital visitors’ lot and made my way to the emergency room. The sounds and smells of the waiting room were overwhelming. Several people waiting were patiently sitting on the hard brown chairs set in rows facing the information desk. The room contained faint odors of disinfectant, telephones ringing, and a dark-haired boy sobbing in the arms of an older man with a red bandanna on his head. One person at the information desk was talking loudly. I stood there, taking in all the impressions of where I was, and wished with all my might that I was not there. I wished that this incident never happened and that this would soon be over. I sat in the nearest chair to call James but then thought I wouldn’t want anyone to overhear my conversation. He had probably already left the law office, as it was after five. I would have to call his private cell number—the nice thing about having a good friend and colleague on whom I could rely at any time. Exiting to the area outside the entrance, I dialed and got his voice mail. I left a hurried message.

James, this is Katherine. I am at the emergency room downtown, and I am okay. There has been an accident, and I need to let you know about it. Call me back as soon as you can.

I quickly returned to the waiting area and approached the desk. The loud-talking woman had left. The large clerk with an unpleasant look on her face apathetically asked me if she could help me. I told her my name and that I had been involved in an accident with a person who was transported here. I tried to coherently tell her my story, but she looked puzzled. No, I did not know the person’s name, but the ambulance drivers had my name and my information. I just wanted to check up on the person. I felt like an intruder, asking about someone I did not even know.

Are you a relative? was her first question. She avoided direct eye contact with me.

Of course not. I don’t even know who it is. He stepped in front of my car on the interstate bridge. I want to know how he is, I replied.

Sorry, ma’am, but we can’t give you any information unless you are a relative. HIPPA, privacy rules, you know. I think you can check the police report or come back if he is admitted. Could be a while. They are really jammed back there.

I stammered a reply. But what if he doesn’t have anyone around? I think it was a homeless person, but I am not sure. I want to do the right thing and find out about him.

Sorry, them’s the rules, ma’am. You can call back later, said the unpleasant clerk, giving me a dismissive sigh and shaking her head.

She looked past me to a young woman who had lined up behind me, holding a small feverish-looking child wrapped in a pink-checkered blanket.

Next. What can we do for you? the clerk asked, peering around me to get a better look at the woman and child.

I stepped back out and let the woman move up to the window. Exchanging looks, the young mother gave me a very tired look and took her place in front of the clerk. People can be so sad—so many problems like having to treat a child with a fever at the emergency room. Probably doesn’t have insurance, I thought. I was rather relieved that I was not involved more in the accident problem right now. Time to get home and reorder the rest of the evening. Grant will wait for Melissa at the school. I can call him from the car. Thank God I can go home. I will check on all of this tomorrow. This could really complicate my morning schedule.

CHAPTER TWO

Nothing to be afraid of in the dark, she said in a loud voice.

Not when we are together was the confident reply.

**

The Present: A Person Alone on the Bridge

I thought I could make it. Now it started snowing. The bridge was getting some ice. There were few cars on the road. I wondered what time it was. When I passed the church on Fourth Street, I saw the clock marking twelve. Was that the time? Did the clock stop? When did I leave? Where was the sandwich I saved from yesterday? I needed to look at the address one more time.

The small spiral notebook was in the backpack that hung loosely from my shoulder. Reaching into the backpack, I took out the book. My hands were shaking badly. I began to turn the pages slowly. Wet snowflakes began to fall on the pages, turning the cheap paper into a mass of muddy gray spots. I squinted to look at the faint writing, but the address was not legible in the fading light. One page was flapping in the wind. I grabbed the soggy page with a free hand, and another page stuck to it. Slowly ripping out the pages, I brought them close to my face for a better look. I slowly turned toward the railing, where the light was better, and back to the road. One foot stepped backward off the pedestrian walkway. A sudden gust of wind tore the pages free from my trembling hand. The papers spiraled and twirled out onto the road as I slowly turned to catch them. I was off balance, swaying into the roadway. A purring mechanical sound was coming across the overpass bridge. My body stiffened; balance was gone. The impact came. I was a rag doll figure rolling over and over, suspended yet moving, with the sense of flying across a smooth sheet of pulsing steel. I fell onto the pavement, my arms and legs flailing. Seconds, minutes, or hours may have passed. A face looked down with horror at me. It was a beautiful face, distorted with fear and pity. It wore bright red lipstick and had clear blue eyes. Then darkness came.

**

It’s just too dark in here, she said tentatively.

Never mind, we can find it by feeling around. The answer came with a little funny laugh.

**

An Hour Later at the Emergency Room

I could barely see anything, only patterns, squares, metal in the squares, black, gray shapes, and large looming boxes lining the sides. I had a feeling of gliding along—no, of being pushed. I moved faster, faster, faster until something opened wide to bright, shining, glaring cold. White, so white, so still, so strange. I could hear someone speaking but not loudly. My eyes were so heavy, too heavy to open all the way right now. I’d just rest here for now even though it was pretty cold. Where did my papers go? I was just looking at them. I could hear someone talking above me.

Another one, said the voice. Can’t they stay sober and hunker down in this weather? This one was on the overpass bridge and stepped in front of a car. Really can choose ’em, huh? Let’s see what we have here.

Another gentle voice spoke. Looks pretty beat up to me.

The emergency room aide used sharp scissors to cut up the sleeves of the coat and peeled the two pieces off like the skin on a banana. It was the same process with the pants, and all the time the aide was thinking that these were probably the only clothes this poor man had right now. The smell was musty, pungent, and stale, the odors of hopelessness and homelessness. The clean, soft hands of the emergency room doctor unbuttoned the dirty denim shirt carefully.

The firm voice continued, No bleeding here. Contusions, bruises on the chest, as well as the forehead. Male, according to the ambulance driver, but evidently he was mistaken about that. Let’s get everything off for the workup. Could be concussion. Eyes are dilated. Call X-ray to get here and give us some pictures. No responses. Lady, can you hear me? You are in the hospital. Can you hear me? Tell us what happened. Nope, nothing right now from this lady.

I can hear you and want to ask you something. What was is it she saw when she looked at me?

**

How long do you think this will take? she asked tensely.

We will take it one day at a time was the confident reply.

**

The Day after the Accident: The Woman in the Hospital Bed

I am not sure where I am. It is cozy. And dry. Firm bed, soft pillow, blankets on top feel good. I hear people coming in where I am and moving away again. Sounds that are swish, swish, tap, tap, tap, tap, swish, swish. Something weird is holding my hand down, feels tight, scratchy, itchy. Wish I could open my eyes. Too sleepy. Feel strung out like that time in Reno. When was I in Reno? The bright red lipstick, the blue eyes. Swish, swish, swish is coming again. I can almost hear you, and I can smell you. Clean, starchy smell and breath like peppermint. Oh, don’t touch me. No, no, no. Rolling over to a cooler place, tugging, and hands patting around me. Feels good now. One voice. What are you saying about me? To me? I remember the red lipstick and the blue eyes. I remember the paper with the address that flew away. Thirsty, so thirsty. Lips won’t move. Voice sounds like bubbling, bubbling like Joey used to do. Joey. Who’s Joey? Tell the voice I can do one day at a time. Learned that somewhere sitting around a big circle of sad faces. Faces that said they liked me and would be my friends. I had a friend a long time ago. Said the same thing then too. Why don’t I just get out of here? What’s to keep me here? No reason to stay. Swish, swish, swish going away again. Happy voice leaving. Why am I alone again? Why don’t you listen? One day at a time, one day at a time, one day at a time. I learned that.

CHAPTER THREE

Will you promise never to forget me, no matter what happens? she asked.

I promise I will never forget you. Nothing is going to happen that we can’t handle, she answered firmly.

**

A Week after the Accident: Katherine

I felt things were almost back to normal