Chapter 17
The Clues Mount in Sheet Harbour
By the time they reached Sheet Harbour, Ned’s head was resting on his chest. Sleeping or passed out? Tim didn’t know. But his question now was whether to admit Ned to the hospital or take him to urgent care.
He pulled up to the Urgent Care Center and parked. As soon as the car stopped, Ned’s head popped up.
“Why are we stopping?” His voice was clear, though the growing bloodstain said otherwise.
“We’ve arrived at the Urgent Care, Ned. Wait here. I’ll get a wheelchair for you.”
“The hell you will! I can walk in on my own two feet!”
But when they entered, the receptionist looked a little too suspiciously at Ned, who was clearly bleeding. She motioned for them to wait, then walked away, whispering into the phone.
Now they were forced to come up with a way to explain a bullet hole.
Just then, Constable Dan arrived and explained that Ned was the victim of a shooting connected to an ongoing investigation.
Tim stepped away, leaving Ned in the constable’s competent hands.
At the pharmacy, Tim left his whistleblower-on-the-run persona at the front door.
He was Dr. Tim Callahan again.
He had almost forgotten what that felt like. He straightened his shoulders and smiled when he identified himself and asked to speak with Dr. MacLeod by name.
After sharing ID and pleasantries, Tim presented his mission. He held up the vial to Dr. MacLeod and shared his professional observations.
Dr. MacLeod examined the vial closely, rolling it in his hand and using a magnifier. He replied, “Indeed, the vial itself is odd. It has no markings. I concur with your observations, Tim. It's obviously a sedative that's been compounded with something else. What you need now is my little lab.” He was offering it to Tim, professional to professional.
Tim smiled as Peter MacLeod showed him around his lab, which was larger and better outfitted than he had imagined.
“Out here in the wilds of Nova Scotia? I'm amazed, Peter!” Tim was genuinely impressed.
“Well, I continue to conduct research for the university. I'm reasonably well-funded.”
“Toronto?”
Peter nodded.
Tim waited, expecting Peter to ask where he had gotten the vial, but he never did.
“If you have a few days, I could send for help from Toronto to help solve this mystery,” Peter offered.
Tim explained that he was on a deadline.
“Okay, then, I'll leave you to it. Push this buzzer if you need my help! Water is in the small refrigerator.” He smiled and was gone.
My, that was a little too easy, Tim thought. I wonder why he didn't ask more questions.
Then he remembered Ned at the Urgent Care Center. A spark of concern. More importantly, they had to meet with Sergeant Blackstone. He had to get to work.
He quickly analyzed the first chemical, a colorless sedative that was strong—fast-acting ketamine, which was also known for its hallucinatory aftereffects.
Be safe, Caroline. This stuff is dangerous by itself, let alone mixed with an unknown drug.
An hour later, Tim still hadn’t been able to identify the second substance, except that it was synthetic and probably not commercially available in the U.S. But he had learned something more important. Combined with the ketamine, it appeared to prolong its sedative effect.
The CL … still a mystery.
Tim stared at the vial.
Whoever had compounded this hadn’t simply wanted someone unconscious. They had wanted that person to stay unconscious.
“I guess that's something,” he said aloud as he returned the lab to its original pristine state. He was always careful to do things properly, a professional habit, as well as a courtesy to Peter.
When Tim closed the lab door, he sought out Peter to thank him, only to find that he had left on an errand.
He found his assistant. “Please tell Dr. MacLeod I’ll stop by later. I want to thank him personally.”
“Oh, sorry, Dr. Callahan. I don’t think Peter will be back today. He said to offer his apologies, but he has a family emergency.” She smiled nervously.
Tim slid into the driver’s seat. He was about to start the engine when a nagging concern surfaced.
“Was that a little too easy?” he murmured aloud.
He had the unsettling feeling that he had been expected. Peter’s sudden departure, just before Tim could thank him, seemed odd.
“Very odd,” he said.
Then he started the car.
In moments, he was at the Urgent Care where he found Ned in a treatment room.
“So glad to see you looking much better. Sorry I'm late,” he said.
He tapped the IV bags, reading the labels. “Looks like you've been busy, Ned. Vancomycin antibiotic and fluids. Tetanus, too?”
Ned nodded.
“Perhaps stitches to close the wound?” Tim asked.
Ned smiled. “Now you sound like the doc here. No stitches, just steri-strips. Doc said you did a fine job, Tim.” He paused, sensing Tim’s concern. “ Just a case of too much too soon, that's all.”
“We have important business to tend to, young man.” He stood, a tiny bit wobbly.
Tim shook his head but smiled. Ned was not a man to wait patiently for the last few drops in an IV bag. He was a man of action. Tim had to respect that.
“Well, okay, then!” He laughed. “But we will have to check out first.”
“Okay, okay? Do you have cash?” He paused. “I don't think we should use credit cards anywhere. Credit cards make us vulnerable to prying eyes, you know.”
They paid the bill and thanked the doctor and staff. The doctor placed a bag in Tim’s hand. “Ned is stubborn, I know, but make him take these antibiotics twice a day. The second bottle has pain medication. He has already refused them here, but just in case …” He turned to Ned. “Take care of yourself, sir.”
In the car, Ned took a deep breath and sighed. “Now let's hope Sergeant Blackstone hasn't already interrogated the driver.”
“Constable Dan should be there now. I'm sure everything is fine. We should be able to sit in. Did you have anything to eat yet?”
“Did you?”
“No time. Should I run into the Foodland and grab apples or something?”
“And water,” Ned added.
Tim parked and ran in. He bought a case of water, peanut butter, bread, and apples. Just as he was waiting in line to check out, he heard a man in the aisle behind him. Tim glanced his way. He had a Balkan accent of some kind. Tim recorded the man’s profile in his memory.
He kept his back to the man and placed the apples on the conveyor belt one at a time. He didn’t want to appear to be eavesdropping.
The voice came again, low and impatient. Tim wished he could translate the words, but he was convinced now that the language was Russian. He had heard enough of it during his years working with international pharmaceutical companies to be certain.
He resisted the urge to turn around again.
“Anything else?” the cashier asked.
“Yes, I'm so sorry. Here,” he said, placing the case of water and loaf of bread on the counter.
As she continued scanning, Tim glanced toward the front windows. A dark sedan was parked beyond the entrance. Someone was sitting in the passenger seat.
His pulse quickened.
He looked back toward the aisle. The Russian had disappeared.
“Sir?”
Tim realized the cashier was waiting for him.
“Sorry.” He handed her cash. “Is there a Russian community in Sheet Harbour?”
“Sir?” she asked. “Not that I know of.”
He gathered the bags slowly, using the few extra seconds to scan the store. No sign of the man.
Outside, Tim loaded the groceries into the trunk. He looked toward the dark sedan.
Empty.
He stood very still.
Caroline had told him about the dark car she had noticed while they were preparing the leg of lamb she had bought at Foodland. It was for her dad’s visit. At the time, it had seemed like nothing more than another strange detail in a day filled with them.
Now it didn’t.
Tim looked back at the Foodland entrance.
They’re here, he thought. In Sheet Harbour.
Caroline’s here!
Dear reader,
Am I succeeding in keeping the suspense up in this serial suspense novel? Let me know! I'm listening!
etlainie92@gmail.com
If you have a book club and would like me to come talk with your readers about THE URN: A LEGACY OF SILENCE, just reach out to me!