Killerwatt

by Sharon Woods Hopkins

  Carson opened her door so Meade could speak to her.

  “Mrs. McCarter,” he said, touching the brim of his hat as he greeted her. “If you’ll pardon my saying so, it looks like you’re in a shit load of trouble.”

  CHAPTER 50

  It was nearly midnight when Rhetta laid her head against the padded leather headrest on the passenger seat of the highway patrol car.

  “I really appreciate the ride, Sergeant,” she said as the Crown Victoria cruised smoothly up the ramp to the northbound interstate toward Cape. The ride to I-55 had taken just five minutes from Benton, the county seat where the sheriff’s office was located. And where she spent the last three hours being questioned.

  “You’ve had quite a day, Mrs. McCarter.” Meade adjusted the air conditioning controls.

  Massive power failures, shootout with terrorists and losing Cami. Can we say understatement?

  * * *

  At one point during her questioning, Rhetta jumped up and boogied when she heard a sheriff’s radio bulletin announcing that power was gradually being restored in parts of the city of Cape Girardeau.

  “Yes!” She whooped and fist pumped the air. Although her ankle still hurt, she managed victory dancing a circle, her borrowed tennis shoes slapping the linoleum noisily. She plopped back down when two officers hustled toward her.

  She held her palms up. “It’s all good, officers. Everything’s cool.” Her stupid grin must have made them doubt her sanity even more than any prior assessment they may have made.

  After arguments between the deputies and the highway patrol via radio and telephone, Sergeant Meade had finally taken over questioning her. The Scott County deputies argued for at least a half hour that they had jurisdiction before a phone call from a being of higher rank convinced Dawg and Fife to back off and let the highway patrol investigate.

  It took a little over two hours more for Rhetta to tell Meade the whole story. He wrote everything down in longhand in a hardbound black notebook. When Rhetta took a break to stand and stretch her aching muscles, Meade snapped the notebook closed. “Let’s get you home, Mrs. McCarter. We’ll have a few more questions, and a final statement for you to sign. That’s all for now.”

  Leading the way through the crowded sheriff’s office to the side of the brick building, Meade held the door open for Rhetta. The steel door was the kind that could only be opened from the inside. Like anyone outside would want to break into the sheriff’s office. Passing by the table where the handcuffs lay, Rhetta glanced at them and rubbed her wrists, remembering how they felt.

  The night air felt pleasantly cool following the hot and humid afternoon. Above them, the sky sparkled with celestial jewelry. A star winked at her and Rhetta grinned. Okay, Mama, I know, I did good.

  * * *

  “I understand that Mr. Zelinski was taken to St. Mark’s Hospital,” Sergeant Meade said as they sped along I-55 north toward Cape. “Report is that he’s doing fine, although his leg is broken, and he’s suffering some shock. I’m sure he’ll be in the hospital a few days.”

  Rhetta sat forward. “Instead of taking me home, can you drop me at St. Mark’s? I know I look like hell, but I really need to see my husband.” She rubbed her still tender shoulder. “And I have to see Woody, too.”

  “Will you be able to get home? If you’ll pardon my saying so, you look like you need to rest.”

  That may have been what he said, but Rhetta felt sure what he meant was, “You look like crap, and maybe you should go home first and clean up.”

  “I’ll call a friend,” Rhetta said. “She’ll come and get me, and then take me home.”

  Since her cell phone was also a victim of the fire, she’d look up Fast Lane Muscle Cars in the phone book in Randolph’s room. Ricky would come get her. And also give her hell for letting Cami burn up. On second thought, maybe she’d call a cab. On third thought, her purse had also incinerated. She doubted if any cab driver would take an IOU. She sighed. Calling Ricky won out.

  She’d let Woody sleep and check on him tomorrow.

  * * *

  There was no sign of the earlier chaos on William Street. In fact, the main artery was nearly deserted. Even late at night there was always traffic near the interstate. Where was everybody?

  “Cape Girardeau has an emergency curfew in place until all the power is restored,” Meade said. She knew he hadn’t read her mind. Perhaps her head swiveling prompted his comment.

  When Meade eased the highway patrol car to a stop at the hospital visitors’ entrance, Rhetta pointed to a dark SUV parked at the curb. “That’s him,” she shouted. Before Meade could answer, Rhetta threw open the passenger door, bolted from the patrol car and trotted as fast as possible on her painful ankle to the hospital revolving door. It didn’t revolve. It was locked down in night mode. Pounding on the glass, Rhetta shouted, “Let me in. I have to see my husband.” No one manned the volunteer booth inside the dimly lit entry foyer. No one responded to her pounding.

  When she turned back to shout at Meade, he and his car were gone.

  Rhetta struck out across the lawn instead of following the S-curved sidewalk around to the emergency room entrance located on the opposite side of the building. At the curb sat a green SUV.

  Her breath caught and fear clutched her heart in a death grip. Was Randolph lying helpless in his hospital room? She had to get to him.

  As she approached the low hedge of monkey grass separating the lawn from the paved driveway under the porte-cochère, the sprinkler system sprang to life. She was drenched by the time she limped the last ten feet to the door.

  In vivid contrast to the closed, deserted main lobby, the brightly lit emergency room overflowed with the sick and injured. After making her way across the packed waiting room, Rhetta searched for a doorway to access the stairs. Amidst strange looks and a few pointed fingers, she maneuvered through the crowd and slipped through the doorway marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. She’d located the stairway. Grasping the rail, she bounded up three floors.

  At the fourth floor landing, Rhetta stopped at the sight of two men. She pressed her back against the wall and gulped in a breath. Her heart began thudding so hard she could barely breathe. The men were engaged in a heated conversation. One of them wore a lab coat. He didn’t appear to have seen her. He turned to go out the door so quickly that his crimson tie flapped when he pushed open the door.

  Something about him was familiar, but he left too quickly. That wasn’t important. It was the remaining man who made her gut lurch in fear. He sauntered toward her.

  Swallowing the bile that rose from deep in her gut, she stared into the dark eyes of a man clad in black pants and hoodie.

  She’d located the owner of the green SUV.

  CHAPTER 51

  Although the stairwell lights were dim, probably from the hospital conserving electricity, Rhetta managed to see the steel blade quite clearly.

  Handling the slim dagger with ease, the man sidled closer to Rhetta, who had scuttled backward until her back was against the wall. He stared at her while grasping the knife, jiggling it, and tossing it from one hand to the other. She fixated on the deadly blade. It seemed as long as a sword.

  A smirk crept across his thin lips. Her heart slammed hard against her ribs. She feared she’d die from a heart attack. Is this what it was like to die of fright? Clearly, he was enjoying tormenting her before plunging the blade into her gut. She had no escape, no way around him. Trapped against the wall, there was only one thing to do.

  When he heard her scream at the top of her voice, “You son of a bitch,” he stopped cold.

  Instantly, she took advantage of his pause, reared back, and kicked him squarely in the crotch. The weapon clattered to the floor as the man doubled over, clutching his privates with both hands, cursing loudly in a language she didn’t understand. She poised to kick him again. Unfortunately for her, he’d recovered his knife and was straightening. The distraction had bought her some time. Scuttling along the wall, s
he reached the door and burst through into the hallway, screaming at the top of her voice.

  “Help,” she whooped. “Over here. Somebody, help!” Two men and a woman rounded the corner. Rhetta pointed to the doorway. “In there, a man with a knife. Call security!” The woman skidded to a stop, gaped at her a second, then turned and retreated down the hall. The two men continued running toward her.

  One man holding a walkie-talkie slowed enough to shout into the mouthpiece, “Security Code fifty-six, fourth floor, rear stairwell. Repeat, code fifty-six, fourth floor.”

  When Rhetta heard the rush of footsteps approaching, probably security, she knew if she stayed, she’d have another zillion questions to answer. She tore off toward Randolph’s room instead. Security didn’t need to take time to ask her their stupid questions. They needed to be chasing the knife-wielding terrorist. She had to make sure Randolph was all right.

  Nearly breathless by the time she reached her husband’s room, she stopped outside his closed door to let her heart rate slow, and the adrenalin rush subside. She could barely breathe, and was beginning to feel lightheaded. She found herself suddenly famished. Probably a side effect from the ebbing adrenalin.

  She was anxious to see her husband, to know that he was all right.

  After a few gulps of air, she slipped into the room.

  CHAPTER 52

  Inside, the room was dim. Huddled over the bed, a man in a lab coat was too intent on what he was doing to notice her come in. The only light in the room seeped from a muted night light above the oxygen tank near the head of the bed. Randolph didn’t stir. Whatever the man was doing hadn’t disturbed her husband’s slumber.

  The figure straightened, obviously startled at Rhetta’s approach, cramming a hand into his coat pocket. There was no tray of vials alongside the bed.

  “What’s going on?” Rhetta asked. “What are you doing?”

  “Rhetta, what are you doing here at this hour?” Dr. Kenneth Reed whirled around at the sound of her voice. His hair was disheveled. His eyes darted from her to the door.

  Although shocked at seeing him, she managed to answer, “I might ask you the same thing, Kenneth.”

  “I needed to check Randolph’s vitals and give him some medication,” Kenneth said. He attempted to untangle the stethoscope from his necktie. She glimpsed a cylindrical-shaped bulge in the coat pocket from which he had just removed his hand. If he had administered a medication, he would’ve discarded the syringe and not stuck it in his pocket.

  Her eyes shot back to his tie. It was crimson.

  “Oh, God, what did you do?” She reached across the bed to grab Kenneth’s arm. He jerked it away and ran toward the door.

  Grabbing the first thing she found, Rhetta slung the full water pitcher at Kenneth’s departing figure and scored a solid hit on the back of his neck. He staggered toward the door. Rhetta raced around the bed and launched herself at him. They crashed to the floor. Throwing her off, he stood and again made for the door. Rhetta leapt to her feet, seized the visitor’s chair by its back, and swung it as hard as she could. It caught Kenneth across his shoulders, and he toppled face forward to the floor. The chair skittered away. Panting, Rhetta reached across him for the fallen chair.

  Kenneth rolled over and caught her left wrist. Twisting it until she screamed, he used her arm for a handle and slung her off. She slid across the floor and slammed head first into the wall.

  Shaking her head from the blow, Rhetta rolled over and pulled herself to her knees. A wedge of light sliced into the room as Kenneth pulled open the door.

  Summoning all her strength, Rhetta used the toppled chair to push herself up. She snatched the chair, using only her right hand and hurled it after Kenneth. This time, the blow caught him behind the knees and he stumbled forward, crashing out into the hall. Rhetta was right behind him. She shoved him as hard as she could. He dropped face first and landed with a crunch. Blood spurted from his nose. He didn’t move. Probably dazed from meeting the floor with his face. She kicked him squarely in the ribs, then whimpered at the pain that shot from her ankle. She lurched to one side just as Doctor Marinthe appeared.

  Behind him were dozens of hospital staff.

  A security officer rushed up and snatched her by the arm.

  Here we go again.

  CHAPTER 53

  “Doctor Marinthe, please check on my husband. I think Kenneth gave him something and the empty syringe is still in his right coat pocket.” Rhetta shouted to Marinthe while the security officer, a short man with piercing eyes, dragged her away from Kenneth, who was still sprawled on the floor. She struggled against the officer’s grip, but he was bigger and stronger than she was.

  Even with his awkward gait, Marinthe was able to rush past them and into Randolph’s room. Rhetta twisted around to peer over her shoulder and saw the room flood with light when Marinthe switched on the overhead lights.

  “Please, you have to get the empty syringe from his pocket,” Rhetta implored the security guard who held her fast. The guard gripped her by her right arm. Because her left arm hurt too badly for her to move it, she pointed with her chin toward Kenneth. By now, the second security guard, who had run down the hallway to join in the melee, stood panting. His gaze darted from Kenneth, who lay motionless, to Rhetta held fast by the first guard.

  Without loosening his grip, the guard holding Rhetta ordered the second guard, “Use gloves, and get out whatever is in his pocket.”

  Following instructions, the guard produced a latex glove from his own pocket and slipped it on. Bending over Kenneth, he carefully removed an empty syringe from the doctor’s coat pocket. Holding his prize aloft, he stepped away.

  Then, addressing the group of gaping onlookers, the guard holding Rhetta said loudly, “Can’t someone see about Doctor Reed there?” He pointed to Kenneth. “He’s hurt.”

  The staff snapped out of their apparent collective stupor. A nurse materialized with a tray of supplies and began ministering to Kenneth’s bloody face. She shot daggers at Rhetta as Dr. Reed began to revive. Rhetta resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at the nurse. How dare she indicate by her glare, that Rhetta was the bad guy here? The protective nurse pressed a towel to the doctor’s face, then helped Kenneth sit up. Blood from his nose quickly turned the white towel a deep red.

  Appearing at the doorway to Randolph’s room, Marinthe shouted to the security officers, “I must see the syringe from Dr. Reed’s pocket.” The guard immediately recovered the syringe from Reed, jogged to Marinthe, and offered his gloved hand. Marinthe, also wearing gloves, snatched it and turned it over.

  Still gripping it, Marinthe walked to Kenneth Reed. The nurse continued to treat him as he sat. Marinthe thrust the syringe at Kenneth.

  “Is this what you used before?” asked Marinthe, shaking the empty syringe in Kenneth’s face. Instead of answering, Kenneth turned his head away. Marinthe squatted down so they were face to face, and said something only Kenneth heard. Kenneth’s head nodded. Slowly Marinthe stood. Turning to the guard, he said, “Call the police. Hold Dr. Reed.” Then glancing at the guard who still held Rhetta, he said, “You must let Mrs. McCarter go. Thank goodness she stopped Dr. Reed.”

  The guard released Rhetta, then slapped his shoulder radio switch. As she rushed to Randolph’s room, she heard the guard calling for help from the Cape Girardeau police. She also heard the answer, “Negative, Johnson. Not enough manpower. He’s all yours.”

  She desperately wanted Johnson and his helper to detain Kenneth; but for the moment, she was too occupied to do anything about that. She needed to know Randolph was safe.

  Rhetta burst into the room to find Randolph sitting up and alert. His nose had oxygen tubes inserted, but he appeared fine otherwise. Marinthe followed her into the room.

  “I presumed Dr. Reed had used the same drug as before. I started another infusion of naloxone,” Dr. Marinthe explained. “It was a good thing you arrived when you did. The anesthetic hasn’t been in his system very long.
The naloxone has probably already countered the effects. I started oxygen as an additional measure.” Marinthe patted her shoulder. “He should be fine.”

  “Thank you,” Rhetta said, her voice catching, barely above a whisper. “I don’t understand. Why did Kenneth do this?”

  Marinthe shrugged. “I’m sure the police will find that out.” He gazed around the room, at the upturned chair, and at all the items scattered across the floor. “Must have been quite a battle,” he said, and a tiny smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “In fact, you rather look like you have been through a war.”

  If you only knew.

  Ignoring the pain in her right shoulder and hand, Rhetta threw her arms around her husband’s neck. Randolph circled her shoulders and pulled her to him.

  “It’s all over, Sweets,” Rhetta said and nuzzled her husband’s warm neck. She kissed his face, and then grasped his hand and kissed it.

  Dr. Marinthe slipped out of the room.

  After a moment more in Randolph’s embrace, Rhetta pulled back and studied the face of the man she loved.

  Randolph clasped both her hands. “God, Rhetta, what happened to you? You look like hell.”

  CHAPTER 54

  Once more, Rhetta found herself staring out of the window in Randolph’s room. Slices of amber light danced across the eastern horizon, signaling the impending arrival of a yellow-orange summer sun.

  After the security guards had removed Kenneth, Rhetta filled Randolph in on everything that had happened. The lateness of the hour prevailed, and he eventually dozed off. Rhetta stayed, sitting by his bed and holding his hand. When daybreak approached, she stood, stretched out aching muscles, and limped to the window to savor the morning sunrise. And the peace that accompanied it.

  The world below appeared normal. Cars and trucks wound their way in and out of the parking lot. Everywhere she gazed, lights twinkled on as area power was increasingly restored. Things might have looked drastically different had she and Woody not stopped the final attack on the substation. Undoubtedly, the chaos she’d experienced earlier would have been a mere sample of what turmoil could have ensued.