The Secrets of Ethan Falls

by J. W. Lucas

  “Bernie, what’s wrong?”

  “I answered the house phone and a hysterical woman was on the line to speak with you right away,” she said. “I tried to get information out of her, but she was going that someone had been shot and maybe going to die….it… it frightened me.”

  “Yes, I know what that was about,” trying to calm her near hysteria.

  “Daryl, she kept pressing me about reaching you and I blurted out where you were staying in Vermont. I’m so sorry.”

  “Bernie, it’s OK, I know the woman. She called the inn, and I spoke with her.”

  “Oh, Daryl, after I hung up all I could think about, was that maybe she was part of those horrible criminals in Boston that you’ve been working on and they were out to get you.”

  “Bernie, Bernie,” I said in as calm a tone that I could muster, “Her name is Lindsey, she’s a friend. Her husband was badly injured at work and she needs some assistance. I’m on my way to meet her in Bellington.

  “Oh, thank God, I thought I had set you up for something awful to happen.”

  To change the subject, I asked how things were at home and she said there was nothing I needed to concern myself with.

  After a minute or two of social chatter I fibbed and told her I was driving, and traffic was getting heavy, so I had to go.

  “OK Daryl, thank God you’re OK. Please keep your cell phone on and let me know where you are when you get settled. I’ve been a nervous wreck about you for the past few months and I was so happy when you said you were taking time off, and now this woman’s call.”

  “Just be careful dear. Please check in with me when you can. I love you.”

  “I will Bernie, love you too,” and I pressed the end icon on the screen.

  Aunt Clarice may have been my guardian, but truthfully, Bernie and her husband Erik regarded me as if I was their own son. She and her husband had twin daughters ten years older than me when I was taken in by Aunt Clarice, and I grew up with them as their little brother, bonded as strong as blood siblings. The twins had finished school and moved out to live in Albany. Bernie was a registered nurse in her younger days, a blessing when Aunt Clarice’s health failed. Now that they’re all gone, I’m the filler for Bernie’s empty nest I guess.

  As I drove, I realized that I hadn’t asked Lindsey how she had tracked me down. It made sense now. Poor Bernie. Sometimes I think she’s Aunt Clarice incarnate.

  My mind back on driving I realized that the Challenger had worked her way up into the seventies, and I backed her down to the speed limit. My traffic fib to Bernie was becoming true, and I saw the first directional sign for the Medical Center. I arrived in a few more minutes and followed the signs to visitor parking.

  From my experience in the city, I had learned that hospital parking can sometimes be as emotionally draining for visitors as treatment is for the patients. Much to my surprise, I found a parking space at the end of the second level ramp, against the wall next to the elevators. In two minutes, I was in the lobby and paused to take in the impressive decor.

  At the Information Desk, I informed the attendant that I wished to visit Forrest Moran. She typed the name into her computer, leaned over to take a closer look at the screen and said, “I need just a minute Sir” and walked to an older woman at the other end

  of the desk. The women conferred, looked over at me and had more discussion.

  I looked up and took note of two conspicuous security cameras that viewed people on my side of the desk. I looked down the desk and saw that my receptionist was on the phone.

  After a moment she returned and said, “A Supervisor will be with you in a moment Sir. Feel free to have a seat while you wait,” motioning to a cluster of couches across the lobby.

  I took no offense from the delay; in fact, I was pleased to see that the staff was screening visitors. I took a seat as directed.

  About ten minutes later I saw an officious-looking woman in a lab coat approach the receptionist, who pointed in my direction. As she walked over to me I stood up to greet her.

  “I’m the Nurse Administrator today, may I help you?” she queried with no expression of emotion.

  “Yes, I would like to visit Forrest Moran.”

  “Are you an immediate family member?”

  “No, I’m not. Mrs. Moran asked me to meet her here. I’m an attorney.” (I thought by stating my occupation I would expedite the visitor admission process but was I ever wrong.)

  The woman raised her eyebrows and struck an obvious defensive posture.

  “I’m sorry Sir, attorneys conducting business at the hospital must be cleared by our legal department before visiting patients.”

  “Oh? I’m here to visit a friend, my business is not with the hospital.”

  “I’m sorry sir, but our policies are very clear.”

  “With all due respect this isn’t an issue about the clarity of your policies, it’s about their legality.” She snapped her head back and her posture became ramrod stiff.

  “Just a moment,” she said, and briskly walked to the Information Desk and reached for a phone.

  I sat back down on the couch and a few minutes later I saw two large uniformed young men approach the Administrator at the counter, they conferred, quickly glanced in my direction, and each moved to opposite ends of the counter, facing toward me. If they were security guards as I suspected, their recruitment for employment must have taken place on a football field.

  The men made no effort to engage me in conversation, but rather stood their posts, occasionally talking into handheld radios.

  I glanced at my watch and realized that my visitor check-in was fifteen minutes in duration and counting. Well, I thought, at least they’re trying to keep the judge safe.

  “Hi,” a woman said as she approached me, hand outstretched. “I’m Kaitlyn Mason, one of the hospital attorneys.” Pointing to the young man in a business suit next to her, she said, “This is Tom Hines, our Security Manager. How may we help you?” I stood up and shook her hand and that of her associate. She was an attractive woman smartly dressed, presenting a professional appearance. I was tempted to go off on a tirade about the attitude of Nurse Ratchet the Administrator but thought better.

  “Hi, I’m Daryl Richardson. I would like to visit Forrest Moran. His wife asked me to meet her here, but I can’t seem to get approved to visit.”

  “I was informed that you’re an attorney, is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you local or …?”

  “No, I work with the US Department of Justice.”

  “Oh?” She said with surprise as if not expecting my answer. “Do you have any identification?”

  “Yes, of course,” and I reached for my wallet and took out my Federal employee ID. She examined the card closely and returned it.

  “As an attorney, I’m sure you’re familiar with the Federal HIPPA privacy act. There are circumstances when a patient declines to allow us to acknowledge that they are admitted here, or, for safety reasons, the hospital can invoke visitor restrictions on its own initiative.”

  “I do understand, completely, and appreciate the hospital’s efforts to keep everyone safe. Mrs. Moran contacted me and told me of her husband’s situation and asked me to meet her here for personal assistance, not legal.”

  “I understand,” she said.

  “If it would help I can try to call Mrs. Moran on her cell phone,” I offerred.”

  “That would be very helpful, yes, thank you.” I found my call to Lindsey from earlier in the day and pressed re-dial. She answered on the second ring.

  “Daryl? Where are you?” she asked in a hushed voice.

  “Hi Lindsey, I’m in the lobby but having trouble getting cleared to visit.”

  “WHAT?” she exclaimed, “I’ll be right down! This is crazy,” as the call ended abruptly.

  “She’ll be right down,” I informed the lawyer.

  “Good, thank you,”

  As we waited she asked, “Forgive
me, this is a little awkward, but your name seems familiar to me, have we met before?”

  “Isn’t that usually the guy’s line?” I said with a smile. She laughed as I glanced down at her left hand and noticed the nice arrangement of diamonds.

  “No, if we did I certainly think I would remember.”

  “Well thank You, Sir,” she retorted with a smile. “Seriously, your name is familiar to me.” I shrugged my shoulders, and the timing was perfect.

  I saw Lindsey Moran step out of the elevator and she looked like a woman on a mission. Even from a distance, I could see that she was a wreck. She saw me and headed straight in our direction.

  “What is going on here?” she demanded in anger to the hospital staff. “My husband is upstairs and may die, and the one person I called to help me isn’t being allowed in here?” I interrupted her, sensing that Mount Moran was about to erupt.

  “Lindsey, please… have a seat,” I said motioning to the couch. “I think that this has just been a misunderstanding and…” I never got to finish.

  “Misunderstanding?” she shouted, as others in the lobby turned to see the commotion.

  I noticed the two security guards start to walk toward us and caught a glimpse of Kaitlyn shaking her head at them indicating “No” and they stopped in their tracks

  “Don’t you know who this man is?” She asked loudly, gesturing toward me.

  I gently took Lindsey’s arm and tried to guide her to the couch, she pulled back and stood staring at the three of us in silence. I saw her swollen eyes well up and watched her glare turn to anguish as she buried her face in my shoulder and let loose with a flood of tears as she started to sag to the floor. Security Manager Hines sprang into action and helped me move her to the couch. “Do you want me to call for medical assistance?”

  Lindsey opened her eyes and said, “No.” in a labored breath, “No, I just need a minute.”

  Kaitlyn Mason sat down next to her and took her hand. It looked like she was taking Lindsey’s pulse and watching her breathing. Lindsey leaned her head back on the cushion and closed her eyes.

  “Mrs. Moran why don’t you let us take you to the ER to get checked out, you’ve been under a lot of stress and ….” Lindsey interrupted “No, I want to be with my husband. I’ll be alright, just give me a minute.” She took a few deep breaths and looked like she was regaining her composure. “Oh, my mouth is so dry,” she complained.

  “Should I get some ice water?” Tom Hines asked, directing his question to Kaitlyn. She nodded, and he headed for the coffee shop section of the lobby.

  “Is she OK?” I asked, hoping for a positive answer.

  “I think so. Her pulse is racing a bit, but not too bad” said Kaitlyn as she stood up. She looked at me and continued “I was a nurse before my legal career. I think she’s just very tired and worn out.”

  Kaitlyn sat back down and talked very softly to her as she sipped from the cup.

  As I turned to thank Tom, I saw that he was walking over to the guards and after a moment they nodded and walked off. Kaitlyn was still talking with Lindsey whose color was looking better.

  “Are those your people?” I asked Tom, pointing to the two young guys walking away.

  “Yes.”

  “Big boys.”

  “Are your staff armed?”

  “No, they’re not. We’ve been fortunate we haven’t had the type of violence that justifies carrying weapons.”

  He was a young guy himself, but I sensed his maturity, and if I had to guess, I would say ex-military. I saw that Lindsey was sitting upright now.

  “I’m feeling better now. I’d like to go back to my husband,” dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, looking at Kaitlyn.

  “I understand,” said Kaitlyn, “Tom, please get an admin visitor pass from the desk and have Mr. Richardson’s name entered into the system as being cleared for ICU access.” Tom complied and returned a few minutes later with a clip-on badge which I attached to my shirt pocket. Lindsey stood and took a deep breath and exhaled. “You OK?”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” she said turning to look at me.

  “I’ll walk with you if that’s alright,” to which Lindsey nodded.

  We took the elevator up to the eighth floor and exited into a nicely appointed waiting room.

  “If you’ll excuse me I want to speak with the nurse manager,” Kaitlyn said as she walked to the nearby sliding door marked ICU RESTRICTED AREA, swiped her ID badge and entered.

  “She’s nice,” said Lindsey as we sat down on a couch.

  “Yes, she is.”

  She reached over and took my hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “Daryl, I feel so much better knowing that you’re here. Thank You.,” accenting her gratitude by tightening her grip on my hand.

  “You got here quick. What are you doing in Vermont?” she asked.

  I gave her a quick rundown of my recent life changes and she

  nodded as I spoke.

  “I think you made the right choice to take a breather. I guess it’s not easy being the sole heir to the Helseth fortune. That’s how the newspapers described you, you know.”

  “Helseth fortune? What newspapers?” I asked in an incredulous tone, “What are you talking about?”

  “Your Aunt’s gift to this hospital. Five million dollars! Don’t you remember that? It was just before Christmas last year.”

  I looked down to the floor and said,” Truth be told, her will listed many bequests; I used a law firm in Boston to manage the distributions. They had tax people and CPAs who took care of all those things that I’m not versed in.”

  “I was pretty deep in a case at work and couldn’t deal with that and the estate issues. I’m embarrassed to say I didn’t know about any newspaper articles.”

  “I have to ask you,” I said trying to change the subject, “we haven’t had very much contact with each other over the years. What made you call me today?”

  Lindsey looked straight into my eyes and said, “Over the years I saw news reports on your work in Boston, all criminal cases. I remember in law school you were usually quiet until we worked on criminal case law. It was like you turned on a switch and your personality changed into this go for the throat Bronx DA guy.” We both let out a weak laugh.

  “Last night when I got the call that Forrest had been shot I just fell apart,” her voice starting to break. I saw her eyes getting glassy again.

  “It was a nightmare, and it was happening to me… for real. I’ve never had anything… I’ve never had to deal with something as awful as this. When the police came to my house, they said it was possibly a robbery gone bad or maybe a targeted shooting and started asking me all these questions about Forrest and his work, I got so scared. I just wanted to go to Forrest, and it took forever for me to make the detective drive my car to the hospital.”

  “On the way driving he was saying things like maybe it was an active shooter, or an assassination attempt and I was begging him to stop talking and drive faster. I just wanted to scream and wake up and find it was just a horrible nightmare.”

  I just listened as she continued “And when we got here, and I realized that Forrest might die, I…., I…., just love him so much and was scared that I was going to lose him,” trailing off into soft sobbing. I leaned over, pulled her head to my chest and held her as she cried.

  After a few minutes of my attempt at consolation, Kaitlyn Mason came out of the ICU with another woman in scrubs. Lindsey took notice, sat up and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue from the side table.

  “I’m sorry,” she said to all of us. Kaitlyn motioned it was not necessary to apologize, sat down next to Lindsey and spoke softly.

  “Lindsey, I know you’ve met Karen our ICU nurse Manager,” gesturing to the woman in scrubs “I’ve explained to her that Mr. Richardson is cleared to visit and she assures me that she will make her staff aware of that.”

  “Thank You,” Lindsey and I responded in unison. Kaitlyn continued, “I’ll go down to the Information Desk an
d personally confirm that they understand Mr. Richardson’s clearance.”

  I stood up and shook Kaitlin’s hand and thanked her again for her assistance. She reached over and gently touched Lindsey’s shoulder, smiled, and walked to the elevator. A class act I thought to myself as she stepped into the elevator and the door closed.

  Chapter Three

  Back in my detective days, I had many occasions to visit accident and crime victims in the hospital to follow up to their situations, but none of that prepared me for what I saw when we walked into Forrest Moran’s room.

  It had been about ten or twelve years since I had last seen him at law school. I remembered him as having a patriarchal bearing as he stood in front of us on the stage in the lecture hall. Back then he was in his late fifties I guessed.

  A handsome man, tall, with a full head of brown precisely cropped hair just greying, he was always impeccably dressed in a three-piece suit, handkerchief perfectly positioned in his breast pocket, shoes with a mirror shine. When he spoke, it was always in grammatically correct sentences, almost theatric. Thinking back, I could see why Lindsey was drawn to him.

  Now, as he lay in a hospital bed with IV tubes, wires, and sensors attached all over his body, the thick breathing tube taped to his mouth hissed in rhythm as his shallow chest rose and fell. I felt weak. He was on a ventilator to help him breathe, his body medicated into a relaxed state to help him heal. His skin was ashen, his hair askew, but he looked at peace in his deep sleep.

  I looked over at Lindsey standing beside me and saw she was shaking, her eyes fixed on her husband’s face. I didn’t speak as I pulled a chair to his bedside for her and watched in silence as she sat and held his hand, her head bowed against his forearm.

  I took a seat against the wall behind her, hoping she would find solace from being close to him. We didn’t move for the next hour.

  An intercom in the hallway announced that visiting hours were over. I looked at Lindsey, who stood up, leaned over and kissed her husband’s forehead and walked toward the door without speaking.