'BREAKDOWN!'

CHAPTER VI

As I sit here watching her sleep, with her face bruised up, right forearm heavily bandaged, three cracked ribs...I'm thankful she's alive. Twytch and Owens are checking the scene of the accident. It's funny, just little over two years ago it was me laying in the hospital bed, two broken legs, and I was lucky to survive that accident, but the other driver, he wasn't so lucky. The i.v. machine makes an annoying beep-beep-beep, letting the nurse know it's finished that bag.
"Wyatt? What.. what happened?"
"You were in a bad wreck, honey. Don't you remember? For some reason you ran off the road and flipped over your s.u.v. They brought you in around one a.m. You remember now?"
"That's.. not right. I didn't run off the road, I was forced off, by a souped up muscle car."
"What? Someone deliberately ran you off the road? In heaven's name, why?"
"I don't know... yet. Who's checking the scene?"
"Twytch and Owens. They've been there since the ambulance got to you."
"Good, they will be thorough. Can I get some water, baby?"
"Sure. Here you go. Easy, take little sips. Enough?"
"How bad am I injured?"
"Your right forearm was cut several times by the broken glass, and you have three cracked ribs. Oh, and two black eyes."
I smile at her, holding her hand. A knock on the door startles me a bit.
"Come. Twytch and Owens, she was just asking about the wreck."
Twytch eases up to the bed and says "Yeah, somebody rammed you off the road, Joan. Best we can ascertain is a black muscle car, you know, like a Mustang or GTO or something."
Owens chimes in "Yeah, we got tire tracks from your tires and his, or her's. And we took paint scrapings from the passenger side. We ought to get to the station and get to work. Feel better, we going to miss you at the precinct."
",Yeah, me too, doll face."
Twytch is the only one that calls Joan doll face. She hates that name, but she and Twytch graduated police academy the same time.
"Wyatt, go home. Get some rest. I'll be fine here. Go on, scoot."
"Alright honey, love you."
She closes her eyes and drifts off. I head to the elevator and call a taxi.
Forty minutes later I walk into my house, and see Ms. Fisher coming from the basement, and she has a large bloody knife in one hand. Before I can say anything she looks at me with a perturbed expression.
"Hello, Mr. Wylde. I wasn't expecting you until tonight. How is Mrs. Wylde?"
"She'll be fine and home in a couple days. Is there anything to eat?"
"Certainly, sir. You go sit and watch TV, I will make you lunch. Take thirty minutes, okay?"
I nod in approval, and plop down in my recliner. Oh cool, a Sherlock Holmes marathon. Soon I'm digging into a plate of spaghetti and meatballs. Afterwards I amble up the stairs and go into my office. I call Daniel, but no answer. Voicemail says he's taking a weekend getaway. So, I try to work on my book, when I get an uneasy feeling. I look around, and several items in my office have been moved, and one of them is laying in the corner, broken. My Shakespeare bust, Joan found that at a market in Vermont several years ago. My Maltese Falcon, laying on its side, a foot from where it's sat for three years. Someone has been plundering in here. Nobody been here except for Ms. Fisher. Unless the attic dweller is back. Time to find out.
"Ms. Fisher, could you please come upstairs to my office?"
I hear her bounding up the stairs. She runs in.
"Are you okay, Mr. Wylde?"
"I'm fine. Uh, were you cleaning in here earlier?"
"I'm sorry I haven't gotten in here yet. I was doing a load of laundry earlier, when I heard a scratching in the basement. I saw a huge rat come out, and I had just killed it when you came home earlier."
"Oh, well thanks."
She bops downstairs, and I try to get back to work. Wonder where Daniel is at on his getaway. Can't remember him ever taking one. I then start doing a list of the things that have happened since that first note. And suspect's...but nobody really jumps out at me for everything. I go down to the kitchen for a Dr pepper, and notice the back door is open. And where is Ms. Fisher? I look around on the back porch, no sign of anyone. I shut the door. After I get my drink I then see the basement door wide open. She must be doing laundry. I step down a couple of steps and call out.
"Ms. Fisher? You down here?"
No reply, but I hear a light groaning. I go all the way down, and see no sign of her. Wait, that groaning again. Sounds like it's in the far bend on the left. I walk into the shadows, and tied up in a chair..."Daniel!"
I start to remove the gag on him and his eyes get as big as saucer's. I feel someone touching my shoulder. I spin around and blurt out "You?!"
Something strikes me across the forehead, and then, blackness.