Reunited by the Badge

by Deborah Fletcher Mello

  Simone nodded her understanding because she hadn’t rested well, either. “Did you find anything?” she asked, gesturing toward the papers in his hand. She inserted a decaffeinated K-Cup coffee pod into her Keurig coffee maker and pushed the start button.

  “As a matter of fact, I did,” Paul said, a smug smile crossing his face. “I compared the lab results from those products that were rejected to the products we studied, and the similarities are undeniable. The contamination is even worse in some cases. I think we can prove Lender renamed and relabeled contaminated products and has been selling them as Halphedrone-B. Looking back over some of their financial records, the costs for the initial production of the drug cut deep into their bottom line. I think they stopped production after the second year and replaced it with merchandise that had been previously rejected. Product that’s been stockpiled in a warehouse in Mumbai because if they had destroyed that excess drug it would have crippled their profit margins. They’d already gotten Halphedrone-B approved and no one was looking hard at subsequent product. I believe we can make the case and connect many of the dots.”

  Simone sat down at the table, bringing two freshly brewed cups of coffee. She passed one to Paul who took it eagerly, his excitement abundant. He obviously felt like he’d struck gold and the joy was written all over his face.

  “So,” she said, her mind beginning to race. “I now have to figure out how we introduce stolen evidence. Because we’re not supposed to have this data, so we can’t just say look at this without them questioning how we came into the information.”

  Paul took a large sip of his coffee. “You’ll figure it out. I believe in you! And if not, maybe they can give us side-by-side prison cells.”

  Simone smiled. “I may have to call in a few favors because I don’t look good in convict stripes.”

  Paul laughed as he took a second sip of brew. “What time is the press conference?”

  “Three thirty. We need to be at the hospital before then, though. I have a few loose ends to tie up and obviously I need to figure out how to include or not include this new information. I should probably run it by Ellington when I get into the office.”

  “Please, do that. Please!”

  Simone rolled her eyes. “What are you going to do between now and then?”

  “I need to get a few hours of sleep, then I’m heading over to the hospital. I need to get updated on a few patients and hopefully start to get back to work. I should already be there in plenty enough time for the press conference.”

  “Just don’t be late.”

  “I won’t be late, Simone.”

  “Just to be sure I’ll send Mingus back to get you.”

  “I can drive. I know he’ll have one of his guys tailing me, but he definitely doesn’t have to go out of his way,” Paul said.

  “Yes, he does. It’s necessary. Just to be safe.”

  “Just to make sure I show up?” he shot back.

  “I know how much you hate public events.”

  “I hate giving speeches and I definitely don’t plan to speak this afternoon, so do not put me on the spot.”

  “Would I do that?” she asked.

  “I mean it, Simone!”

  She giggled. “No worries, baby! I got you!”

  Paul shook his head, his look skeptical. “I need a shower and then I need to lie down. How soon before you leave?”

  “I’m going to finish my coffee, then get dressed. I’ll leave right after that. If you’re asleep, I won’t wake you. But make sure you set your alarm.”

  Paul stood up and shuffled his papers into a neat pile. He leaned to kiss her cheek. There was just a moment of hesitation, his lips lingering against her skin, as if a question on the tip of his tongue, as if he suddenly felt uncertain about asking it.

  Simone sensed his trepidation as she pressed her palm to the side of his face, leaning back to stare into his eyes. “We’ve got this,” she answered. “Everything’s going to be fine. I promise.”

  As Paul headed toward the bedroom, Simone sat back in her chair, dropping into reflection. They were going through the motions, pretending all was well, even as doubt and uncertainty kept rearing its head. What had happened in the office had left her battered. And angry. She hated being threatened and she didn’t take the warning lightly, but she refused to let it beat her. Because for as much as she needed Paul and his strength to forge ahead, he needed her to be equally as strong. They were both on emotional overload and her hormones were spinning her in a hundred different directions. But she was determined to be the rock he needed, an immovable boulder barreling against anything that threatened their future.

  * * *

  Despite concerns about his safety and that of his patients, Paul had finished his rounds at the hospital and was going through patient charts when Nurse Grace knocked on his door. She poked her head inside to see if he was busy.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you, but you have a visitor.”

  Paul looked up from the lab results he was reading. “A visitor?”

  “Vivian Lincoln would like a minute to speak with you. And I apologize, I don’t remember which drug firm she’s with.”

  “Is she alone?”

  Grace nodded. “She is. If this isn’t a good time, I can send her away. I already told her you have an appointment with Dr. Cartwright, so you won’t have much time for her,” she said, referring to the hospital administrator.

  After a moment of consideration Paul nodded. “That’s fine. You can send her in,” he said. With Mingus’s men positioned outside the door and in strategic locations on the hospital floor, Paul doubted highly that he needed to be worried about Vivian trying anything. He had to wonder, though, what she wanted and why she was there. He closed the files he’d been reviewing and placed them on the credenza that sat behind him.

  He reached for his phone, debating if he should text Simone. He decided to wait until he saw her and could answer the mountain of questions he anticipated would be coming.

  There was a second knock on the door. “Come in,” Paul called out as he moved onto his feet and rounded the desk to stand in front of it.

  Vivian moved through the entrance, closing the door behind herself. “Dr. Reilly.”

  Paul nodded, noting the formality in her tone. He responded likewise. “Ms. Lincoln. What brings you here?”

  Her gaze swept the length of his body, shifting from his head to the floor and back. “May I sit down?”

  Paul gestured toward a seat with his hand. “Please.”

  “Thank you.”

  Paul returned to his own seat, still eyeing her cautiously. An air of tension had risen in the room, feeling like thick mud weighing him down. “So, to what do I owe the honor?”

  “Let’s not play games, Paul. You need to call off this witch hunt. There is absolutely nothing wrong with our product and your lies will only serve to discredit you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  She continued, “We have people at the FDA, so we’re fully aware of the complaint you lodged this afternoon. And I understand you have questions and concerns, but you’re blowing this well out of proportion. Lender is in the business of saving lives and you’re trying to criminalize our efforts.”

  Paul bristled, indignation rising with a vengeance. The audacity of her statement was laughable. That she honestly thought he’d file a complaint without proof would have been insulting if he had cared about her opinion.

  “I have people at the FDA as well, and I trust there will be a thorough investigation into any and all claims I may have. I’m trying to hold Lender accountable for their actions. If everything is as copasetic as you claim, then you shouldn’t have anything to worry about.”

  “You really don’t want to do this. If you know what’s good for you...” Her eyebrows lifted, her head tilting slightly as she glared at him.


  “Is that a threat?”

  Vivian stood back up, her high heels clicking against the tiled floor. Her lips were pursed as if she’d sucked on something sour. “We don’t make threats, Dr. Reilly. But I assure you, this will not go the way you think it will.”

  Paul smiled, narrowing his gaze. Clearly, he had struck a nerve and he found it interesting that Vivian Lincoln, of all people, was trying to strongarm him. “I consider myself warned.”

  She moved to the door, pausing to stare back at him. “By the way, I don’t take kindly to being stood up.”

  “Well, I don’t take kindly to being set up,” Paul quipped.

  Still looking like she’d swallowed spoiled milk, Vivian hesitated in the entrance, as if there was one last thing she needed to say, but she didn’t, instead, slamming the door closed as she made her exit.

  Paul felt his heart racing and he released the breath of air that he’d swallowed. He wasn’t sure whether to be concerned or not, but he knew it was too late for them to retract their complaint or to withdraw the lawsuit Simone had filed during her lunch break.

  He thought about the children and families still suffering because of Lender and he didn’t care what Vivian, or her company, thought about what they were doing. He was determined to stop them, no matter what it took.

  The alarm on his Apple watch vibrated against his wrist. The hospital Powers That Be were waiting for him. Although they would remain neutral with relation to his legal actions, they stated at their meeting the previous evening that the administration and the hospital’s board had vowed to stand behind him in support. Paul knew it had less to do with him and much to do with reducing their liability to the patients impacted by the drugs that had been prescribed by their staff. After the cat incident it had been welcome news, and as Simone had succinctly pointed out, they were better served standing on the side of what was right than supporting what was very wrong.

  Hanging his white coat on a hook in the closet, Paul changed into his suit jacket. With one quick adjustment of his necktie, he took a deep breath to calm his nerves and headed to the conference room on the top floor of the medical facility.

  * * *

  An hour later, after a brief meeting, Paul followed the hospital’s board members and legal team out to the south side of the building. The warm temperatures felt more like early fall than the last of winter; the sun was still shining brightly in a clear blue sky, and Paul imagined it was very much a seasonal calm before an unexpected storm.

  The meeting had been brief, and most of their time had been spent waiting for everyone to arrive. The discussion had been to reiterate the hospital’s position and to ensure everyone was on the same page when the press asked questions. He hadn’t had much to say, still mulling over his conversation with Vivian. He also still had doubts that this was the right route to go, but there was no turning back from the decision.

  He was surprised by the crowd that stood on the hospital’s steps. Simone must have gotten the attention of every news affiliate that reported on the city of Chicago. Reporters, podcasters and journalists stood closely together. A few were doing sound bites to lead into the story. Others were jotting notes into well-worn composition books or dictating into handheld recorders.

  There was also a very visible police presence. Uniformed officers were maintaining crowd control. The superintendent himself stood toward the back of the crowd, his wife standing by his side to show their daughter support.

  Simone stood at the podium, Ellington by her side. The two looked cucumber cool, unfazed by the flurry of activity around them. There were last-minute microphone checks and one of the paralegals was passing out envelopes of information that included the press release and an assortment of supporting documents.

  At one point Simone turned, searching him out, and when their gazes connected, she gave him the sweetest smile and a nod of her head. For reasons he knew he would never be able to verbalize, he was taken aback by the confidence she exuded. She wore it like a badge of honor that complemented the winter-white suit draped around her body. It was paired with an emerald-green satin tank and green suede pumps, and she was stunning. In his heart he saw a warrior woman: fierce, determined and a force to be reckoned with. It was Simone at her very best; the woman he had always known was there even when she herself hadn’t been sure. Just the sight of her calmed every ounce of his nervous anxiety.

  Simone gestured for him and his colleagues to come stand on the step directly behind her. He took a deep breath, knowing that they were minutes away from sharing what he had been haunted by for close to a year. It was a moment of reckoning and he could only pray that fate would serve them well as he walked to Simone.

  Paul had just reached her side, Simone placing a hand on his forearm as she reached to whisper in his ear, when he heard gunshots ring out. The harsh explosions rattled the calm, the too familiar bang, bang, bang sounding loudly through the afternoon air.

  Paul was unprepared for the chaos that suddenly ensued, most in the crowd taking flight. He looked left and then right as he grabbed Simone by the shoulders and threw himself around her, pushing her down to the ground. The protective gesture was second nature, her safety his only concern. Beside him, Ellington was shouting but the words were undiscernible, nothing resonating in Paul’s ears but the echo of gunfire and the loud screams of panic.

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mingus racing in their direction, his gun drawn. Other officers were also rushing toward the danger, searching for whomever had fired the shots. It was then that Paul felt the warm flow of blood pouring over his hand, the offending ooze spreading like a Rorschach inkblot across Simone’s white blazer. Her body had gone limp and as he turned her in his arms, he realized Simone had been shot; bullets presumably meant for him had struck her instead. Shock wafted through his spirit, holding hands with panic like he’d never known before. He gasped loudly, then screamed her name.

  He swept Simone up into his arms and raced toward the hospital’s entrance. Muscle memory kicked into action as Paul shifted into doctor mode, screaming out triage instructions. As he reached the doors he called for a gurney and medical supplies, his hands pressed against Simone’s two bullet wounds to help stall the bleeding. For Paul the doctor, the moment should have been no different than any other experience he’d had in various war zones. But this was Simone and their unborn baby! This was everything he valued in life. That moment would forever haunt him if he got it wrong and he was determined to get it right, calling on every ounce of medical training he had ever had.

  It took less than three minutes before Simone was being rushed into an emergency room bay, a nurse cutting away her new suit so that they could inspect her injuries.

  Minutes later, after conducting an assessment of her vital signs and getting an IV started, Paul was still shouting out instructions as another doctor, the surgeon on call, pushed him out of the way and took charge. For a split second Paul lashed out, refusing to relinquish control. Desperation was fueling his efforts, his need to bring Simone back from the brink exponential. Adrenaline coursed through his blood stream and he stood toe to toe with the other man, shaking with rage in his leather shoes.

  “Dr. Reilly, we need you out of the way, please. We’ll take good care of your wife,” he said.

  Paul nodded, seeing no need to correct the man. Simone wasn’t his wife, but she would be. It might not have been official, but she was his, heart and soul. She was the air he breathed, the water he drank, the sweetest dreams when he slept, the lifeline that kept him standing. She was so much more, and he didn’t have the words to tell the other man so. Then suddenly he did.

  “She’s pregnant,” he advised. “Approximately six weeks or so along. We’re having a baby. You need to save them both!”

  The other doctor nodded as he issued an additional list of instructions as they were pushing Simone out of the emergency room toward the surgical wing.<
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  It was all too surreal. Paul stood still as stone. He was shaking and he held out his blood-streaked hands, fighting to stall the quiver of adrenaline that had consumed him. He wasn’t quite sure where next to turn.

  “Dr. Reilly? Dr. Reilly?”

  Paul did an about-face toward the emergency room nurse calling his name. “I’m sorry, do you need me?”

  “The family is gathered in the waiting room, wanting an update. I didn’t know if you wanted to give that to them yourself or if you’d prefer Dr. Kennedy do it.”

  Paul took a deep breath, shaking himself from the trance he’d fallen into. His emotions were raw, and he had no sense of time and place. He only wanted to be in the operating room. He wanted to trade places with Simone, to move her far from the hurt that had rendered her helpless. He needed to be useful and he was feeling everything but. He suddenly couldn’t get enough air into his lungs and he bent forward, hands pressed against his thighs as he sucked in oxygen. He felt broken and he had to dig deep to find the strength he knew Simone needed from him.

  “Are you okay, Dr. Reilly?” the woman asked, moving swiftly to his side.

  He nodded. “I just need a minute to clean myself up,” he said to the nurse who was still standing there, staring at him. “Get me an update from the surgical team and then I’ll go speak with the family.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said as she turned and exited the room.

  Paul moved to a supply closet and found a clean set of hospital scrubs to change into. He didn’t want Simone’s mother to see his suit covered in her daughter’s blood. Quickly discarding his clothes on the floor, he washed his hands and face, then moved back to the nursing station and the nurse he’d spoken to just moments earlier. She held out the telephone for him to speak with the operating room, the words barely registering as he listened to the surgical resident on the other end give him an update on Simone’s status.

  “Thank you,” he said finally as he disconnected the call. He took two deep breaths still trying to calm his nerves.