by Beth Aldrich
“Let’s look at the information we’ve gathered so far,” Dad begins as he starts counting on his fingers. “We have someone looking at your personal file from your doctor’s office, who’s also grabbing pink paper and envelopes from their storage room. A crazy person is tracking you from his office building on this hospital campus, which is not far from where we are currently sitting.”
As my father speaks these truths, I start to shake in my chair, pressing the heels of my shoes into the floor beneath the table, trying to stay calm. Yoga, don’t fail me now. I visualize three of the most positive and loving things I know—my baby, Morgan, and Kyle.
“What if we’re in danger right now?” I whisper furtively. “We don’t know who would do this, so we have to keep our eyes open.”
“You saw the security detail and police all over the hospital. We should be safe here. What is important is the activity that’s been going on the past few days and right now, here in this hospital. You told me that the stalker said he wanted your husband next, and now he’s trying to make good on that promise.”
“If he’s doing exactly what he says he would, based on the letters, then my whole family hangs in the balance. Steven, the kids, Barney, me…” I take a deep breath and reposition myself in the cramped cafeteria chair. The light chatter from diners in the background masks our conversation. “We need to be the aggressive ones here. No more standing around waiting for him to come to us. I can’t sit by and let this happen any longer.” I feel a sense of exhilaration as the bolder version of myself takes a proverbial step forward.
“I agree with you one thousand percent, honey. Why don’t we go up and see if Steven is back in his room yet? It’s been over thirty minutes.”
“Remember, Dad, I have the ability to tap into Steven’s subconscious mind. I’d like to take a few minutes and get quiet here, before we go up.”
He raises his left eyebrow and smirks, indicating he’s still on the fence about my ability to communicate with Steven, as he says, “Okay… I’ll go grab a cup of coffee and be right back.”
I’ve gotten good at honing-in on my husband’s consciousness over the last few days. I’ve discovered that if I quiet my mind of unwanted thoughts, breathe deeply, and visualize the person I’m communicating with, it works; the waves start floating between us.
I believe the stressful emotions over the past few days must have exploded my transmission superhighway wide open, because otherwise, how would I be able to understand him? Thinking back, though, Barney has also been trying to get my attention for years, but I was too preoccupied to notice. Now he’s pitchforked his way through, and he has a better understanding of my emotions and words. I think I’m imagining his thoughts, but maybe a pet psychic could confirm whether they really are his thoughts or not.
Steven’s conscious mind, meanwhile, is somewhat blank and relaxed due to his inactivity right now, making him a near-perfect receiver for my communication.
Steven, I love you. I am so worried about you and want you to come back to us. Please.
Silence.
Honey, someone tried to hurt you. We’re trying to find out who this person is so we can have him arrested.
Silence again.
Finally: Betsy… it’s hard to breathe… my mind is a blur… but I will try to remember…
It’s okay, honey, I can help you! The doctors say you’re stable now, but we need to get to the bottom of this. Do you think maybe you saw someone in the room that didn’t belong here, or gave you a bad feeling?
Silence.
Betsy… the man… who put the needle in… was here in the hospital when you were here.
What man? Dr. Deller? Was the man you’re talking about here when Dr. Deller and I were here, or was there another time?
Same time.
Silence.
The quiet is somewhat deafening, but I’m glad I can feel the love passing between us like a river flowing in both directions. More love than has passed between us in months.
Who could it be? A deranged nurse or security guard gone rogue? Henry was there at the same time, of course, but it’s hard to know. Dr. Deller said he was here meeting with Dr. Hildebrandt, but I barely know him. I must look outside the box and consider, who has a motive? I discreetly punch the armrest of the chair, hoping to relieve some of the pent-up frustration. I know that my obvious negativity won’t help the communication between Steven and me, but it probably doesn’t matter because it looks like Steven has checked out for now.
“Hey, Betsy.” My father returns. “I brought you hot tea to help calm your nerves.”
My father sets the tea down on the table in front of me and takes a seat directly across. Chamomile, with honey and lemon to add to it. Dad’s sweet gesture helps relieve some of my immediate stress. The gentle heat from the beverage rises and fills my senses as the calming takes effect. He watches as I slowly squeeze the thick, golden syrup into my steaming cup of tea, add the lemon, and stir it all up. Holding the cup in both hands warms me. The chill within my bones begins to exit with an uncontrollable shiver. The small hairs on my neck start to lay flat again.
“Thanks. I need this right now,” I murmur, wondering if a bite of that Snickers bar would hit the spot, too. Maybe I can go grab one for myself on the way out, or better yet, a piece of pizza—my go-to cheat food.
“Steven had a lot to share just now. He says the man who put the poison in the IV had been here before, and in fact, was here when Dr. Deller and I came to visit.”
Watching my father accept this explanation from Steven gives me a reassured sense of stability. Knowing that he’s on my side and believes me is all the fuel I need to motor on.
“Of course, there were several hospital staff members milling around that night with Dr. Deller, what with all the interns, nurses, and custodial staff who are in and out all the time. Remember that we also saw Henry, the guy who cleans Dr. Deller’s office; and, Dr. Deller also mentioned that he was at the hospital meeting with his office partner, Dr. Hildebrandt, before he bumped into us?”
“Betsy, wait,” my dad pleads. “If you do the calculations, Dr. Hildebrandt or Henry could actually make sense. I don’t know them, but either would jive with what I found at Dr. Deller’s office earlier today.”
“What if it is one of them? I see Henry around here all the time. It’s absolutely crazy, thinking he’s so close to me in this medical setting and yet, he could be a stalker; and Dr. Hildebrandt is a respected doctor.” Not to mention extremely handsome. “That, too, is insane.”
“I agree, the whole thing is crazy.” Clearly Dad is determined to follow this line of reasoning, he raises one bushy eyebrow and gives me that “listen to me” look.
I sigh, in agreement. He’s got a good point. “All right, maybe we should follow them around and see where they go. One of them may slip up. But I don’t know much about Henry, and Dr. Hildebrandt has only met with me once, when my doctor was delivering a baby—he hardly knows me and would have no motive.”
“Maybe you can find out where Dr. Hildebrandt lives the next time you go into their office,” my dad suggests.
“Dad, all I do know is, it’s not Dr. Deller. I’m scratching him off our suspect list. When I’m with him, I can tell he’s safe, trustworthy, and totally on my side. He’d take a bullet for me, if he had to. I know for sure.”
The “listen to me look” is still zeroing in on me. “You know, Betsy, sometimes people don’t show their true selves to others. Sometimes even the nicest-seeming people have odd obsessions and fixations. I’d watch both of those doctors and the janitor.”
While Dad is talking, I look over his shoulder and notice Dr. Deller coming into the cafeteria, headed straight for our table. Feeling sweat form on my upper lip, I wipe it off with my index finger inconspicuously just as he approaches our table.
“Hello, Dr. Deller! Wow, lucky me, I get to see you more than once in one day! How are you?” I say, feigning surprise.
“Me? How are you? I hear
d that there was some incident with Steven here today, so I called over to the ICU and they told me you were here in the cafeteria. Do you know what happened?”
Shrugging my shoulders, I vaguely admit, “It’s all a mystery to us.” I shoot Dad a look, trying to signal him that I will handle this. “Have you heard anything from the doctor-types?”
“Not yet. I was going to press them for answers after talking with you.”
Well, if talk is what he wants, then he came to the right place. It’s time to get to the bottom of this mess and break my silence about what we know. I check my intuition for certainty and get a good feeling that it will help us clear the decks. “Dr. Deller, please sit down with us. We need to talk.” He sits across from my father, who gives him a hard look, then turns to me as I spill the beans.
Dr. Deller’s expression deepens into a serious frown after we explain the whole sordid mess to him. He’s obviously as shaken as we are, but I am glad I’m finally sharing the story with him.
“We have reason to believe that someone who has access to your office is responsible for what happened to Steven. We don’t know who it is, but we also have reason to believe that this same person is the stalker that has been terrorizing me.” I don’t openly admit that I think the culprit could be Henry or even Dr. Hildebrandt, because we haven’t confirmed facts yet.
My father is sitting, nodding his head in agreement while keeping a watchful eye on Dr. Deller. What I have said leaves my doctor speechless. Leaning against the wobbly cafeteria table, Dr. Deller combs his fingers through his thick, gray-streaked hair, then looks down at his shoes. After holding that pose for a few minutes, he exhales and looks up at us. My thoughts race, from guilt to accusations and back to innocence. My heart is hoping he’s honest.
His eyes are clear and direct. “Betsy, I swear to you, I don’t know anything about this, at all. However, some hospital staff have access to my office, which could answer the questions you have.”
Dad also outlines what he discovered at Dr. Deller’s office today while I fill in other details about what else has been happening, recapping every point I can think of. Hoping he’ll be our ally in this fight, I plead that he keeps this information from everyone. Dad and Dr. Deller agree that we should keep our eyes open and try to catch the assailant red-handed. Then we would have legal proof—that would assure police assistance and action.
“I know you have nothing to do with this, Doctor, but from my perspective, I hope you understand what I’ve been going through,” I say.
“I do, and I’m sorry for all of this.” He shakes his head, then leans his elbows on the table to hold his chin in his hands.
As I look back on the many years I’ve been Dr. Deller’s patient, I realize I’ve always been satisfied. I’ll never forget the traumatic day I had to get the dilation and curettage procedure, known as a D&C, to remove the tissue from inside my uterus due to the blighted ovum. Go figure—I ended up having an empty amniotic sac with no fetus inside. Dr. Deller told me then that the fetus had been destroyed by my own system. The next pregnancy was a success thanks to his smart medical approach; he administered weekly immunoglobulin IV treatments, which literally saved my son Kyle.
Morgan was born without a hitch, thanks to the hormone treatments, but the miscarriage a year after he was born threw me back into a tailspin. I couldn’t understand why my body continued to fight some of my pregnancies. Dr. Deller explained that sometimes the immune or endocrine systems take over and supersede medical understanding. Lucky for me, my doctor is on the cutting edge of this treatment approach, giving us the opportunity to build and raise our wonderful family. My family means everything to me, and I know that if—when—Steven makes it through this whole mess, I am going to dedicate whatever it takes to build upon our marriage and make it strong again, too.
Getting up from the table, Dad and I agree that we will keep Dr. Deller up-to-date on anything we find out, and he offers to do the same.
The three of us walk together to the elevator to go see Steven. As we approach the elevator, we are startled by a loud crashing sound. Looking over, we see an overturned trash can, with a janitor picking it up. Fear surges in my veins as I see what I hoped would not be true: Henry. He kneels to scoop up trash strewn on the floor. Dad shoots me an urgent look while we join Dr. Deller, who is approaching Henry to offer him a hand.
Hanging a few steps behind, I whisper to Dad, “Don’t say anything to Henry just yet. Let’s see how he reacts. We aren’t one hundred percent sure he’s our man.”
“Henry, let me help you with this,” Dr. Deller is saying.
I’ve never spent any time with Henry, but as my father and I approach, I pick up a very strong negative energy from him—rage-filled and bold—the way he acted when I approached the van the other day. Something has set him off, but I don’t know what. He’s acting very erratic.
He tilts his head on an angle to look up at Dr. Deller. “No, leave it! I’m fine.” He looks down and ignores us, going back to his work.
We pivot and turn around, heading back to the elevator. Looking over my shoulder, I realize just how big and menacing Henry is. Could this be my stalker—the crude, letter-writing jerk, trying to terrorize me?
I’m seething under my breath as I tell Dad, “I have half a mind to go over there and confront that—that—that horrible man.”
Dad pulls me close to him and whispers, “Just be calm, honey. This doesn’t prove anything.”
Dr. Deller, obviously taken aback by the response from Henry, slowly walks away, stunned that a hospital staffer would take that tone with a doctor. As he steps through the open elevator door, he signals for us to get in. Inside, he slams a closed fist into his free hand and shakes his head. “Are you kidding me? That man was so incredibly rude,” he says. “I was only trying to help! I didn’t want to get into an altercation with him, so I just walked away.”
Dad and I nod in agreement. I say, “Henry is our best bet right now. We think he could be the one who has been writing the pink notes and doing all these horrible things.”
“If you look at the big picture,” Dad adds, “he could have easily followed Betsy to the beach and still made it to work on time.”
“But what would be his motivation?” Dr. Deller looks baffled. “He’s been working for us for years. It doesn’t add up.”
I shrug and offer up my best guess. “His motivation could simply be a sick crush. A vendetta. Anything. He’s passively seen me go through hell and high water over the years, coming to your office dozens of times. He could easily have access to your files and know where I live and what I’ve experienced. Those notes were very specific about my life. Only a select few people would have that information. It could even be a reaction to drug use?”
“That’s right, Betsy,” Dad says. “We don’t know that much about him, any one of those reasons could be true. However, we don’t have enough evidence to pin it on him, so the police won’t get involved yet. But we could keep a sharp eye on him for the next day or so. What do you think, Dr. Deller?”
“I agree. I could text you when I see him at work. And I know which car he drives, so I can keep track of his comings and goings. I can also find out where he lives and figure out when he’d be in transit,” Dr. Deller says.
We agree on this makeshift plan and exit the elevator to Steven’s floor.
Steven is back in his room, and the security guard on duty lets us enter the dimly lit room. Dad and Dr. Deller give him gentle touches on the arm, and I lean over and give him a sweet kiss on the cheek.
“Hello, Mrs. Ryan and Mr. Anderson,” Dr. Abbott says as he walks into Steven’s room.
“Hello, doctor,” I say, then introduce Dr. Deller. “This is my OB-GYN, Dr. Deller.”
They shake hands. “How’s the patient doing?” Dr. Deller asks, nodding towards Steven. “I know his wife is on pins and needles, hoping for good news.”
“He was exposed to arsenic through his IV, but we caught it in time and flu
shed his system, so no damage was done. For now, we need to focus on his healing. He needs to rest for the rest of the day and tonight,” Dr. Abbott says, “but please stay as long as you want.”
“Oh, my God. Who would do that?”
“At this point, we don’t know,” Dr. Abbott replies, as he looks down shaking his head.
Dr. Deller seems to sense the tension as he chimes in, “Thank you for that update. I know it’s important for Betsy and her family to know what’s going on.”
“I know the police are investigating the case, as we speak,” he quickly replies.
Dr. Deller turns to us. “Betsy and Cary, now that you’ve gotten some answers and are settled here, I’m going to make my way home. I trust we’ll connect sometime tomorrow, yes?”
“Yes, doctor, thank you for everything.” I watch him leave, carrying the secret we’ve shared with him this evening. I wipe away tears as I look over to Dad standing at Steven’s bedside.
Quietly I whisper to Steven, “Get better, please, so you can protect me from Henry in the future.”
Dad is silent as we drive down the winding road that leads to my house. I’m looking out the window at the array of gorgeous homes whizzing by as we travel.
I break the silence. “Dad, what do you think we should do first?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” he says. “Since we almost bumped into Henry at the hospital and then observed his little dustup with Dr. Deller, I believe he’s going to keep a low profile for the rest of today.” He’s staring out the front windshield but is razor-focused on me. “I think you go about your business, lock up, and make sure you set the security alarm when you to go bed tonight. We are just a few minutes away, plus I know Misty is armed and ready whenever you need her. We’ll meet again in the morning and go see Steven and circle the wagons. Sounds good?”
“I don’t know what I would do without you guys,” I reply, quickly and gently squeezing his left knee. “I feel so safe and protected, even during this terrifying experience. I think we have enough evidence for the police to get more aggressive with my case now. Maybe even question Henry?”
