Unforgettable Christmas Dreams: Gifts of Joy

by Rebecca York

  The doctor’s fingers shook as he moved the dress shirt aside, then warmed up and quit shaking so much once he got to the body temperature yellowed t-shirt underneath. He pulled the collar back with one hand and reached for the syringe with the other. “Almost there…” he said softly, then stretched the cotton knit as far as it would go. His eyes widened at the tattoo, but he didn’t say a word. Instead, he kept his head tipped down so neither man could tell that he had seen the ‘Kill Count’ inscription with multiple hash marks underneath.

  “There,” he said. “Just give me a minute to toss this. When I get back, you should be feeling no pain.”

  “Just leave it there on the tray,” Vinny said. “You aren’t going anywhere until you sew his finger back on.”

  “Okay,” Doc said. He put the tray with the syringe in the sink, then bent down and grabbed a suture kit from the cabinet. “How are you feeling there, bud?” he asked.

  Hugo tipped his head up and saw the laceration kit the doctor was opening. “I fleel fine,” he slurred, then turned away. “Can we go now, Vinny?”

  “No, Hugo. We’re going to stay here until he gets you all put back together. That shot only works for the pain.”

  Hugo lay his head back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. “It makes you feel good, too. Good enough to sing.”

  “Oh, please don’t,” Vinny said, remembering what happened the first and only time Hugo had been drunk. Evidently, the shot he had received was acting on his system the same way. At least there wasn’t a karaoke machine in a hospital emergency room.

  Dr. Ellington shut out everything but his patient’s index finger, quickly and efficiently cleaning the wound and assessing the damage. His battlefield medic skills had taken over. He flinched at the sound of a metal bowl dropping to the tile floor, but continued his ministrations. Finally done with the sewing, knots, and bandaging, he took a deep breath and came out of his self-induced trance.

  “Your friend’s going to be fine. I suggest you wait here for an hour or so.” He looked over at Hugo; passed out, little snorts from his deep sleep escaping. “He won’t be able to walk anywhere until the shot wears off. If you give me a minute, I’ll get some pills for him. He can take one or two every four hours as needed for pain. When they’re gone, good ol’ over-the-counter pain meds like aspirin or ibuprofen should work. Don’t let him get the sutures wet or dirty. I’ll need to take them out in about ten days.”

  “I know how to take out stitches,” Vinny said dryly. “Go ahead and get me the pills. And bring me a few of those syringes pre-loaded with that painkiller. He’s a big boy and pills might not be enough for him.”

  The doctor opened his mouth to protest, then settled into a relieved smile. “I think I can do that. Just give me a minute to find something to put it all in. Be right back.”

  As soon as the doctor left, Vinny was on his phone. “Hey, Friday. Yeah, we’re still here in Oregon. I haven’t found anything on the twins, but I’d bet your life that those two guys we saw yesterday were twins. I’m pretty sure by the glare of recognition that the one in the car was Van. I don’t care if the other one said they had just met or not: they’re twins. Yeah, well, I ran into a snag. Hugo and I were checking out the old midwife’s RV, and he got cut doing something stupid. I’m in the ER with him now. He’s not feeling any pain, and I’m going to make sure it stays that way. Anyhow, I have to find a place to park him while I go back and do a cleanup. He almost lost his nose picker, but he’ll be fine in a week or two. I’ll be in touch when I find something concrete. In the meantime, see if you can poke around in the old man’s business. See if he’s heard whether Van’s dead or alive. Go ahead and plant the seed in loverboy Quinn’s head that there might have been a twin. Yeah, we work together fine, all right. I still think you need to have an escape plan, though. Zelda’s about as vicious as they come, but you know that. You’ve managed enough of her kill contracts. Thanks.”

  ***

  “Rosa!” Jesse called out when he saw her and waved.

  She looked at him as if he wasn’t there, then headed to the bathroom.

  “Wait a sec,” he said, then hurriedly pushed his cart in her direction. When he was nearer, he asked, “Are you okay? You don’t look so good. I mean, you’re still pretty and all…”

  Rosa put her hand up to stop her boyfriend’s babbling. “Wait out here,” she said and walked into the single bathroom.

  “What’s going on?” he asked through the crack of the door she had intentionally left ajar.

  “We got a creeper — or rather, two creepers — in with Doc Ellington,” she whispered, then coughed as Jesse spritzed cleanser on the door handle, trying to look like he had a reason for hanging outside the bathroom.

  “Sorry ‘bout that,” he replied, then commenced polishing away germs and fingerprints, just in case anyone was watching him. “Is it something you think I should check out?” he whispered.

  “Yeah, if you would. I have a bad feeling about this. And come back here and let me know when they’re gone. Those two really did scare me shitless. I’m glad the bathroom was empty.”

  “Gotcha. Go ahead and take care of business or whatever. I’ll knock three times when the coast is clear.” Jesse then sauntered away, humming La Cucaracha, listening for clues to where the doc and the creepy men were.

  Down the hall, Jesse heard Dr. Ellington say, “I think I can do that. Just give me a minute to find something to put it all in. Be right back.” A split second later, the normally mellow physician who generally sauntered rather than walked, was half-running toward the restricted area, a grimace of panic erasing his otherwise handsome features.

  “Found ‘em,” Jesse whispered to himself, then headed to the room the doctor had run away from, one hand on his cart, one hand on the mop handle.

  Jesse dry-swabbed the doorway in front of room three, then paused and listened as he pretended to search for something in his supplies. He couldn’t hear what was being said nor get any closer than he was, so he knelt down and began worrying an area on the floor with a putty knife, pretending to scrape up chewing gum. Through the closed door, he only caught random words, but they were enough: Van, twins, midwife’s RV, kill contracts.

  Suddenly it was quiet. Too quiet. The door opened with a swoosh. “What are you doing here?” Vinny growled, his fist clenched as he looked down at the man on hands and knees, scraping the floor.

  Jesse looked up and asked, “Eh?” then shrugged his shoulder. “No comprendo.”

  “Well, comprendo this,” Vinny said. He reached down and grabbed the janitor by the collar. “Scram!”

  Wide-eyed with genuine fear, Jesse nodded rapidly. He almost replied in English, then remembered his undercover persona. “Sí, sí,” he said, wiggling and squirming his shoulders to escape the crazy man’s grip.

  Vinny let go and snorted in disgust. “Damned immigrants. Learn English before coming here. No one understands Mexican around here no how.”

  Jesse quickly squatted to pick up the dropped putty knife and noticed the otherwise well-dressed man’s odd choice of footwear. Although he was wearing an expensive dark gray ‘Going to court or church’ suit, he had on red and white cross trainers, not dress shoes. Jesse stood up awkwardly as his gimpy leg seized up on him, then realized his intimidator was still waiting for him to leave, wordlessly glaring at him in disgust.

  Jesse waved goodbye with a nervous smile and said, “Adios.” He shuffled as fast and far away as possible without leaving his girlfriend behind. It was better to leave Rosa in the sanctuary of the restroom than have her exposed to this guy. She’d been right to stay hidden until he gave her the all-clear sign. She had a toilet and water. She was set to wait this one out.

  The only thing he could do now was to contact his former camp and trailer mate, Van. He had to let him know that he and his brother — and probably one or both of the mothers — were in trouble. Big trouble.

  Chapter 4: The Investigation

  Lakeview Hospital


  December 21

  “Hey, Jesse. What’s going on? And where’s Rosa? No one’s at the front desk. They’re piling up out here. Nothing serious, but…” Sheriff O’Reilly realized that Jesse hadn’t responded to any of his questions and was stunned. Or in shock.

  “Come sit down a minute,” he said, ushering Jesse to a vacant area in the waiting room. He came back to Rosa’s desk and addressed the six people anxiously waiting for someone to acknowledge them. “Someone will be out shortly to help you,” he said, hoping it was true.

  The hospital’s director came rushing towards Rosa’s empty desk, a strained and anxious smile pasted on his face as he hollered, “I’m coming, I’m coming!” Frustrated people crowded around the desk lit up with phone lines ringing, everyone and everything demanding attention at the same time.

  “You got this?” O’Reilly asked.

  “I’d better. Where’s Rosa?”

  “I don’t know, but it must be important.” The sheriff looked over to the janitor, standing in the corner, holding his phone up as he pivoted in place, trying to catch a stronger signal. “Good luck. Looks like you’re gonna need it.”

  The administrator smiled weakly, then turned to the crowd. “Now, who was next?”

  Jesse dialed the call again. “I’ll bet he’s out at Pete’s,” he mumbled.

  “Who’s out at Pete’s?” O’Reilly asked, then pulled a chair sideways and sat down, assuming a comfortable position to watch the front door and hallway at the same time. He glanced back at the fidgety janitor standing behind him, worrying his phone. “And what in the hell is going on with you? You’re scaring me, Jesse. Nothing but nothing ever spooks you.”

  “Yeah, well spooks spook me,” Jesse replied with a nervous laugh. Seeing that the sheriff had missed his joke, he elaborated. “Spooks, as in hired murderers; they spook me.”

  “Okay. Where’s this spook you’re talking about? Is he here?”

  “Yeah, but I think there’s two of them. Rosa called them creepers. Two guys came in and scared her. Looks like they terrorized Doc Ellington, too. I hope he’s okay. He’s probably hiding out somewhere, too.”

  “Give me more, Jesse. And hurry.”

  “Rosa said two creepers came in and Doc Ellington saw to whatever the medical emergency was. When I saw him, he was running back and forth like he was carrying a live grenade to a bomb disposal unit. At least, that’s what it looked like to me. If you think I’m tough to unnerve, Doc makes me look like a Nervous Nelly. He was nicknamed Steely Dan in Afghanistan. He could put GIs back together with just his field kit and electrical tape, even under fire.”

  “Okay. I get it. These guys spooked you and Doc. You have to give me more than that.”

  “Well, after Doc left the exam room, I ambled over and listened at the door. I couldn’t hear everything that was going on, but I did hear them mention Van, twins, the midwife at the RV and kill contracts. I’m sure they were talking about the guys and Junior’s one mom. I know Cecelia was the midwife for Cindy’s first kid and will be for this next one, too. Sheriff, I think that whole family is in trouble.”

  Sheriff O’Reilly’s eyes widened at the last revelation. He had done his research after Van and Junior brought him the tracker. Vinny the Axe had a long history of being at the scene of a hit but had never been convicted of anything but assaults and gun possession, and that was when he was a juvenile. The other man the brothers had seen was unnamed and unknown. “Did you happen to hear any names?”

  “Yeah. The guy was talking to someone on the phone named Friday about twins and kill contracts. Would you go and check on Doc, please?” Jesse asked. His stomach rumbled loudly and he leaned forward. “Gotta go. I’m gonna be sick now.”

  O’Reilly headed toward the exam rooms while Jesse went the other direction to the restrooms. “Hey,” the sheriff said and nodded to the short, dark-haired man in a classy suit pushing a wheelchair. The passed-out patient with the biggest, thickest black mustache he had ever seen had his right index finger splinted and bandaged, resting on a plastic bag-wrapped basin. “Need a hand?” he asked as he held the door, studying the man’s features, then glancing up to make sure the security camera’s light was on.

  “Thanks,” Vinny grumbled, then spun the wheelchair around so he could back out of the facility, his eyes fixed on the sheriff.

  O’Reilly grinned and nodded, making sure he kept on his congenial law enforcement officer façade as he watched to see which section of the parking lot they were headed. “Cool,” he said under his breath and turned around. Before he went through the automatic doors, he paused at the giant concrete planter. The once vibrant flowering plants were now frozen twigs and bits of desiccated leaves and petals. He pinched off a sprig, brought to his nose and sniffed, continuing to follow the mysterious pair’s trek to their rental car — or stolen car — in the window’s reflection. He grinned and walked inside, hoping he appeared to have no interest in them. “Very cool. A 1980 Mercury Marquis. That shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

  “There you are!” Jesse said, the fear on his face unmistakable. “Did you find Doc Ellington?”

  “I wasn’t looking for him. Why? Is he missing?” he joked, then got serious. “Something came up. Come on. Where was he treating the patient?”

  “Sorry. He was in room three. Come on,” Jesse said, grabbing O’Reilly by the inner elbow and pulling him in that direction.

  The sheriff was in the room first. “Oh, Lord,” he said, and dropped to the floor beside the doctor, his hand on the medic’s chest to make sure he was still breathing.

  “Is he okay?” Jesse asked, holding onto the edge of the bed for both physical and emotional support.

  O’Reilly turned the doctor’s head to the side and saw a syringe still embedded in his neck. He yanked it straight out. “He will be.” He reached over and pressed the call button dangling from the side of the bed.

  “Can I help you?” the voice asked.

  “This is Sheriff O’Reilly. Get another doctor in here stat. I have a man down who just received an injection of an unknown substance. And don’t try and call Ellington. He’s the one who needs attention.”

  Rumble. Rumble. Rumble.

  The crash cart and nurse were in the room in seconds. “What happened?” she asked, accepting the syringe from the sheriff. She saw the bed was empty, then noticed the body on the floor and quickly knelt down to do an assessment.

  “Looks like someone decided Doc needed a break. Is there such a thing as a fatal dose of that stuff?”

  “Yes, but not in one syringe, even if… Don’t tell me they injected it into his neck.”

  “Okay, but they did.” O’Reilly turned the prone doctor’s head towards him so she could get a better look. “I think it would be bleeding, though, if it hit an artery or vein. Looks like the guy didn’t know what he was doing. Is that a scrape?”

  The nurse leaned forward and looked at the doctor’s neck, then lifted up her glasses and inspected the needle. “I’d say there was a little divine intervention here. The needle is bent. He must have hit a muscle. That’s why Doc’s skin is scraped. Only a little bit made its way in.”

  “Oh…” Doc Ellington groaned.

  “Are you okay?” O’Reilly asked.

  “No, but I will be when you let me know you have those idiots locked up. What happened?” Doc grabbed his belly and groaned. “All I remember is getting punched in the gut, doubling over, then feeling pressure on my back. I think he was kneeling on me.”

  “Yeah, probably,” the nurse said. “He injected this in your neck. Or tried to. Good thing you’re tough as saddle leather. What was in this?”

  “Morphine. I was going to give the great ape Fentanyl, but I was afraid he’d OD on it. Not the one dose I gave him, though.” He paused and coughed. “You see, the little guy wanted additional syringes to use for his buddy when the first injection wore off.” The doctor shook his head, trying to clear his brain fog with the physical gesture. “I’ll
be fine. I won’t be able to see any more patients today, though. I gotta find a bed and sleep this crap off. Why anyone would think this is fun is beyond me. Crap.”

  “Rosa!” Jesse exclaimed suddenly.

  “What?” the three in the room asked, looking around for the perpetually perky receptionist.

  “She’s still locked in the restroom! I gotta go tell her the coast is clear. It is, isn’t it, Sheriff?”

  “Yeah, both of them took off. Looks like you have this part handled,” he said, nodding to the nurse. “Let me go get those guys. Or one guy. The one in the wheelchair didn’t look like he could do anyone harm. If I had known about this assault when they were leaving, I could have stopped them right then and there. As you would say, Doc, ‘Crap.’”

  Just as Jesse got to the door, he paused and turned back. “Hey, wait. You gotta go see if Van’s mothers are okay. I tried calling their satellite phone and no answer. I thought it was my phone, but it had lots of bars. Looks like that whole family is in trouble.”

  “They’re out at that new area folks are calling Birds of a Feather, right? Out near Crump Lake?” the sheriff asked for verification, although he already knew where Cecelia lived.

  Jesse nodded vigorously, then said, “Hey, I gotta go check on my girl. I’ll let you know if I remember anything else.”

  “You do that,” the sheriff called after him, the man’s awkward gait exaggerated by his attempt to move quickly without his ever-present janitorial cart/walker.

  ***

  “Dispatch; this is O’Reilly. I’m heading out to the Wagner’s place by Crump Lake. I might be out of contact for a bit. I’m not sure if my radio will work out there, but I know for a fact that it’s a dead zone for cellphones. If I don’t call by noon, send someone out there to check on me. Those two guys I was researching earlier just assaulted Doc Ellington, or at least Vinny the Axe did. Yeah, I’m suited up. Don’t worry about me. Unless Vinny has an axe stashed somewhere… Roger that. O’Reilly out.”