Virtuous Deception 2

by Leiann B. Wrytes

While the operator transcribed the details of the circumstances as he relayed them to her, she alerted the authorities about a probable suspect in the area, possibly armed and dangerous.

  “Frank, help should be dere any minute.”

  The operator contacted the front desk to confirm that they were aware of the developing situation and passed along Lisa’s room information to the officers en route.

  “Frank, are ya still there?”

  Frank was lying beside Lisa with his head resting atop her stomach. Her hazel eyes were hidden from his view. He closed his and reviewed their last conversation, just thirty minutes old.

  They had laughed and played like old times. He’d had real hope for their future together. The prospect of them repairing their marriage looked promising. He had traveled from the States all the way to Saint-Martin to get her back, only to lose her like this. One phone call had destroyed his entire world. Why had she done this to herself, to him? Didn’t she know how much he loved her?

  Lisa, please don’t leave. I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. Don’t leave me.

  “Frank, are ya there, sir? Please respond.”

  “I’m here.”

  “Good. Can ya open the door, please? The paramedics are dere.”

  Frank reluctantly left Lisa’s side to open the door. The paramedics rushed in, and one of them, upon noticing the blood he was covered in, attempted to assist him.

  “It’s not mine.”

  He looked at his beautiful wife and fell apart all over again. His eyes were so puffy he could barely see. The paramedics put her on a gurney and prepared to take her to LCF.

  “Sir, are you Frank? My name is Fabrice. Frank, can you walk?”

  Frank didn’t respond. He simply put his arm around the medic and looked at him with bloodshot eyes, still oozing with pain. Nothing else was said. He and the medic headed out the door just ahead of the gurney.

  A detective flashed his badge, stopping them in the hallway. Frank tried to figure out why he was there, but it soon became evident once the proper introductions were made.

  “Excuse me. I’m Detective Baptiste. That there is my partner, Detective Saenz.” He pointed to an older gentleman standing just down the hall, speaking with the paramedics moving Lisa. “Are you Frank?”

  Frank nodded but did not speak.

  “I need for you to answer some questions for me now. Tell me what happened here?” Topping out at five feet eight inches, the young detective was roughly five or six inches shorter than Frank, but he made up for his height with a few extra pounds of muscle that his dirty gray suit failed to hide.

  “She killed her.”

  The detective looked at the medic holding Frank up. The medic shook his head. Lisa had not been pronounced dead as far as he knew. He could not confirm one way or the other. He had spent his time with Frank.

  “Say that again? Who you say did this?” Baptiste flipped through the pages of his pocket pad, scribbling a note for reference later. “Are you talkin’ about a Charlie, no?”

  The young detective looked at Frank’s eyes to gauge his response to the name the dispatcher had given him. He processed the gleam in his eyes and the slight quivering of his lips as confirmation that Frank was familiar with the proposed assailant.

  “Where is this Charlie person?” Baptiste pressed Frank for Charlie’s whereabouts. Time was a precious commodity, but he was doubtful that Frank’s claims were true. “Tell me da truth now. Describe dis Charlie person. Come on now.”

  Detective Saenz had concluded his part, allowing the others to proceed with the transport. The paramedic did not want to interfere, but with his own sordid history with the police on his mind, felt he had no choice. “Detective Baptiste, we really need to be going now. His wife’s condition is critical. The others cannot go without me, and him.”

  “Don’t think I don’t know what’cha doin’. You are interfering in my investigation!”

  Shaking his head, the paramedic explained further. “I think any husband would want to be with his wife at a time like dis one.”

  Baptiste eyed the paramedic but conceded to his request. Locking eyes with Frank, he made himself perfectly clear. “Fine, take him, but don’t ya try to leave the island, sir. I have eyes at Princess Juliana Airport.”

  This story did not make sense to Detective Baptiste. There were too many details missing. The proposed assailant was conveniently missing, and with no physical description, this “Charlie” was practically invisible. Perhaps this person had hurt Ms. Mason, but Detective Baptiste had no choice but to start with what he had: Mr. Mason.

  He called to the station. “Officer Claude, run a background check on a Mr. Frank Mason, registered at Le Petit Hotel. Use his passport information and anything else you can find on him. I need to know everything on dis guy as soon as possible.”

  Chapter 5

  The tarred four-lane road felt like a narrow back alley as Frank’s world continued closing in on him. He sat near Lisa’s head, holding on to her hand, wishing, hoping, praying for her to be okay. Conditions in the ambulance resembled a sauna, and he couldn’t seem to fill his lungs with enough air, regardless of how many breaths he took. Sweat leaked from every pore in his body. The possibility of losing her overwhelmed him. If he didn’t relax, he would end up in a bed right beside hers.

  Finding it difficult to sit comfortably on the small, tattered, plastic-covered cushion in the back of the ambulance, Frank struggled to will his body still. He forced his eyes away from his wife, concentrating on the small, square window pane carved in the back door of the ambulance. He used that focal point as a temporary means of escape for as long as he felt he could.

  Rolling hills of plush green grass stretched as far as the eye could see, interrupted only by stints of the sea flanking the French side of the island. Flashes of Lisa, lying on the floor, covered in blood, assaulted his mind as the ambulance shuffled him about, roaring westward, to the nearest hospital, Hôpital Louis-Constant Fleming.

  The chatter of the emergency workers did not register. No sirens rang in his ears, only the soft crush of the water upon the beach and his name on her lips tickled his hearing.

  Nature’s impressionist stroke animated their life’s canvas in his mind. Reminiscent of an early Hitchcock film, their years together replayed in silence, bringing him closer to the edge of a world he could not imagine without her. Mustering his mental strength, Frank focused on the tauntingly blue Caribbean waters, a therapeutic technique aimed to combat his anxiety. But even as he submitted his thoughts to the fading waters, a little voice within him echoed a bitter sentiment. Nothing short of a miraculous healing could succor his heart at this moment.

  As the medical vehicle hugged the curves of the winding road, loosening his perspective of the sea, Frank turned his gaze again to Lisa. He desperately needed her to smile, to laugh, to come back to him.

  This could not happen. Frank could not let her die in paradise. It didn’t seem fair that the place where she felt most alive should be the place that would take her life. Surely karma would not be so cruel. He believed that, much like the winding road shifted the shape and size of the massive sea, this moment only appeared to weaken Lisa, but it had no more power over her than the road had over the waters. She would come out of this stronger and more beautiful than before.

  Without warning, a mordant pain sprouted from his temple, wrapping itself around the crown of his head. Instinctively cupping each side of his head, Frank scrunched his body inward, blinking rapidly as the intensity of the throbbing continued to increase. Frank’s vision deteriorated, the pain acutely impairing his ability to see. His body felt aflame as he closed his eyes, praying the hell would pass. His square jaw line grimaced in agony, yet no sound escaped him, not even a small grunt.

  Frank sat mute, writhing in pain for what seemed an eternity. He lost twenty seconds but opened his eyes to the white sands of the beach, the grand shadow of Le Petit Hotel looming over him. He could feel Lisa standing behind him, her f
inger playfully poking the palm of his open hand as it hung at his side. Lisa.

  “Excuse me, sir.”

  Something was pulling him away from his thoughts. He shook his head, trying to hold onto the fading image. He spun around, and with her hand clasped in his, traced her profile with his free hand. I love you. His pain was a distant memory, like it had never happened it all. Lisa was smiling, joking, very much alive. Nothing else mattered. He could hear children laughing in the distance, feel the sun on his face. He felt a peace come over him, his heart finding a calm place to hide as fantasy became reality.

  “Move, sir. Move quickly now,” a voice instructed from somewhere outside of his vision, pilfering the scene, confusing his thoughts as he blinked, toggling pictures of reality and dreamlike slides on a projector. He stared at a pixelated Lisa as Frank felt his body swaying. He looked down to find an unfamiliar hand gripping his arm, shaking it with enough force to pop it out of place. Searching Lisa’s eyes for an answer, his heart began to splinter as she faded. No, no no. Where are you going? Don’t leave!

  “Move now, sir. Move!”

  His eyes grew wide as Lisa, the beauty of the day, and the beach disappeared completely, replaced with the interior of what he thought was a small room. Frank gaped wildly at his surroundings, trying to reclaim the last few minutes, fighting the disorientation as best he could. Nothing looked familiar to him. There was only a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. He couldn’t make anything out. A chill swept over him as he scrambled his thoughts to make sense of things.

  “What is going on?” he mused out loud.

  He looked down again at his arm. The man was still shaking it. Frank did not see the medical equipment scattered about, packed into the back of the ambulance. He did not notice the uniform the emergency technician wore to identify himself.

  “Let go, sir! Ya have to let her hand go now!” the man requested more urgently than before.

  Lisa’s hand remained tucked firmly within Frank’s grip. The two large glass doors of the hospital’s emergency entrance were open and awaiting them. The tech had been trying to open Frank’s hand so that they could take Lisa inside, but Frank had not budged. Despite the technician’s pleas, he remained unresponsive.

  “Sir, ya have to let her go! Please!”

  Let her go. Frank repeated the order in his head, its true meaning skewed into something frightening, life-threatening. Falling victim to the panic slowly taking control of his mind, he loosed a booming declaration. “No! I ca . . . n’t!” His words were fragmented like the images in front of him.

  The technician dropped his arm with the outburst. Puffing air like a small locomotive, Frank slid to his right, casting a contemptuous glare at the tech in the process.

  “No!” he barked, reaffirming his decision. Reaching across Lisa’s body, Frank tried pushing the technician toward the open back door of the bus, but an emotionally-depleted Frank couldn’t muster the strength. With his back to the internal wall of the ambulance, the thin piece of metal separating the back area from the cab, he settled near the crest of Lisa’s head.

  He stared at the tech sitting across from him, angling to reconstruct the moments he felt were missing, precious seconds that would explain things, including the IV bag he noticed hanging casually over Lisa near the technician.

  “What’s going on? Tell me!”

  The technician did not answer his question. He did not say anything at all. Frank’s patience wore thin in the silence.

  “Why won’t you answer me? Who are you? What the fuck is happening?” His knees rattled together as an inescapable sadness anchored itself in the base of his stomach. The dam sheltering his hazel eyes broke as fresh streams of tears inched from its reservoir. Wiping his face with his palm, he tried to shake himself free of the hurt smothering him. “Something’s not right. Tell me, how did we get here?”

  Frustration, gassed by his mounting confusion, collided with his anxiety, rendering him emotionally defenseless. His questions, multiplying by the minute, circled around his head. Still holding tightly to Lisa’s hand, he realized that in all the commotion, she had not moved or made a sound.

  Crouching beside Lisa on the gurney, Frank lowered his face until it was level with hers. “Lisa, baby.... Lisa?” Patting her hand, he continued to try to wake her. “Lisa, baby, wake up. Lisa . . .” His eyes burned as tears ran without ceasing. Closing them, he whispered to her. “I’m not leaving, baby. I’m right here. Okay? I’m sorry. I’m here. Please get up.”

  “Fra–Frank.” Adrenaline punched through his words, forcing a stammer Frank easily ignored. The gentleman had been riding as a passenger in the front of the ambulance, and after convincing the surgeon of his ability to defuse the situation, he stood at the back of the bus, stumbling through his technical training. “Frank . . . look to me. I mean . . . look at me now.”

  Frank still had not taken notice of him. Aside from the technician across from him and Lisa, no one existed.

  “No one is taking her,” Frank mumbled under his breath, not bothering to lift his head in the direction of the voice. He could not follow his memory into his present. There were too many blank spots.

  Frank sat up straight, flattening his back against the wall of the ambulance. Seeing her on the beach was the last thing he could remember. His anxiety revved as he tussled with the unknown in search of clarity. The complicated, fickle situation fueled a relentless urge to protect her as his misgivings escalated the tension with each second that passed without an answer.

  Quickly scanning the area for something to defend himself with, Frank grabbed a needle, wielding it like a weapon toward the technician who had previously held his arm.

  “No one is taking her!” Frank lowered his eyes at the technician, feeling a telekinetic energy surge through him, pushing the scrawny, sunburned man sprawling from the back of the ambulance. He immediately turned his attention back to Lisa, frantically darting his eyes between her and the door. Then, cutting through the confusion, he heard a familiar voice.

  “Frank, look at me. Frank.”

  Frank’s blank glance toward the source of the voice trying to get his attention was evident. It was the technician who had escorted Frank to the ambulance, the same one who had intervened for him with the detective. Frank slowly turned his eyes toward the familiar voice.

  “That’s it. That’s good. Frank, do you remember me?”

  Frank shook his head and did not move from Lisa.

  “Think. Come on. You remember now. I know ya do.”

  Frank maintained eye contact with the man, who seemed to know him, and lowered his defenses a bit.

  The technician continued to jog his memory. “Fabrice, remember? From the hotel.”

  Fabrice? Frank didn’t remember anyone named Fabrice.

  “You know who I am, don’t ya, Frank?”

  Frank still couldn’t remember him, but pieces of his memory started coming back to him. He could recall following Lisa into her suite after she had found him on the beach.

  “Frank, look at Lisa.”

  Frank looked down at his wife. She still had not moved.

  Fabrice continued talking, plugging the holes in Frank’s story. “Lisa, your wife, is hurting really bad. You called emergency services from the hotel, and we came to get ya two.”

  Frank visibly tensed up, causing Fabrice to explain himself further. He motioned toward the hospital with an exaggerated sweep of his arms. “Behind me is the hospital. Doctors are waiting to help ya wife.”

  Frank looked out the back of the ambulance, behind Fabrice, and noticed the large hospital for the first time.

  Fabrice kept his tone even and calm to keep from agitating Frank. “We are trying to save her. Let us help ya, Frank.”

  Frank looked again at his wife laying on the gurney, but this time he noticed her white bikini bottoms soaked in blood. “Oh, gawd . . . oh, gawd…” Seeing his own hands stained red exasperated his ever-increasing alarm. “Lisa . . .” His memory resurface
d in tiny flashes of light; not enough for him to get a clear picture of what had transgressed, but enough to know that it was something terrible.

  Sensing Frank was on the verge of panicking again, Fabrice reclaimed his attention. “Frank look at me. She is stable, but we need to hurry.”

  In the midst of the unfolding horror, Frank tried to maintain his composure. There was so much blood—all over him, and all over her. Did he do this? Surely, he didn’t hurt her? Why couldn’t he remember?

  “Do you understand? We are here to help. Too much time has passed already.” Fabrice motioned for his partner to assist. “Ian is going to climb back into the bus, and we are going to take her into the hospital.”

  Releasing her hand, Frank conceded to his request. The technicians, Ian and Fabrice, along with Frank, gingerly lowered Lisa to the ground and quickly rolled her into the hospital. Within seconds, security swarmed Frank, tackling him to the ground while the emergency room unit whisked Lisa away to the operating room.

  Frank struggled to get free as his torso slid on the frigid surface of the tiled floor. “Lisa! No, wait! Don’t take her! I promised her I wouldn’t leave!” Frank thought he might die. His head was spinning so violently that he could hardly stand upright. He needed to be with Lisa. She needed him.

  “Frank, calm down. Frank.”

  He peered up at Fabrice hovering over him. Fabrice held his hand up to alert the officers. “You can let him go. I will see to him.”

  The security officers released Frank, but he didn’t have the energy to move much. With some effort, he made it to his feet and managed to take one step before his system started shutting down. His legs buckled. Fabrice caught him, wrapping him in a bear hug as he collapsed to the ground. Frank’s body went limp in his arms, exhausted from the emotional ride.

  “I promised her. I can’t leave her. I can’t—” Erupting in a volcano of sobs, Frank stretched out on the floor in the middle of the walkway. Fabrice, sat beside him, resting a comforting hand on his back, creating a safe space for Frank to grieve.