A Heartbeat Away

by Harry Kraus

  She looked up. Phin was wiping his eyes. “Must be the pepper,” he said.

  “Don’t start,” she said, sniffing. “I won’t be able to eat.”

  She remembered her purchase earlier that day. “I have something to show you,” she said, standing up and heading toward the front door where Phin had placed her suitcase. Inside was her new Bible. She wanted Phin’s approval of her choice. She hesitated and stole a glance through the front window.

  An SUV with tinted windows was parked at the edge of the next block across the street. “Phin, I think I recognize that car. It followed me out of my neighborhood last night.”

  He came to her side. “I haven’t seen it before.”

  “Is there another way out of here? We can’t stay here.”

  “There’s a back door from the basement, up the stairs into the backyard. But my car is parked out front.”

  “There’s a bus stop on the next street over. We can take a bus back into town and rent a car.”

  “Then where?”

  “Baltimore. I’ve got to see the tape of my interview.”

  Tori followed his eyes as Phin looked back at the kitchen. “I’ll do the dishes. We’ll leave the lights on. Go pack a bag.”

  He took a step toward the stairs. “Wait, what did you want to show me?”

  She waved him off. “Just a little purchase I made today. I’ll show you later.” She glared at him. “Now go!”

  32

  They waited for dark before closing the front curtains and turning on the bedroom lights and closing the blinds. Before leaving, Tori again watched the SUV from a darkened upstairs bedroom. For a few seconds, the face of someone in the front seat lit up with the flicker of a cigarette lighter. Indeed, someone was waiting in the car. Waiting and watching.

  They exited the back basement door and crept across the lawn to an alley behind the townhouses facing the next street. They stood in the shadow of a maple until they saw an approaching bus and then ran to the stop to enter.

  It was two miles to an Enterprise car rental; Phin had called ahead and reserved a midsize car. Inside, he was given the keys to a blue Honda Accord. He hoisted their luggage into the backseat. In a few minutes, they were on Interstate 95 North.

  A few minutes into the ride, Tori closed her eyes.

  She awoke as Phin was exiting the interstate.

  “Where are we?”

  “Fredericksburg. I need to either stop for the night or get coffee.”

  Tori yawned. “Let’s stop. We can easily drive the rest of the way in the morning.”

  They found two rooms at a Holiday Inn Express on Warrenton Road just off the freeway. Phin carried her suitcase to her door, next to his. He put the suitcase on the floor inside and politely said, “Good night.” He paused. “Want to sleep in?”

  “Not sure I can.”

  He nodded. “Just call me when you’re up. They have breakfast in the lobby.”

  She didn’t know what to say. They’d been so busy talking about her crisis. We never talked about us.

  If there is an “us.”

  She closed the door, leaned toward the peephole, and watched Phin. The view was a small circle, distorted at the edges. Phin was in the center for a moment and then disappeared down the hall.

  She thought about the dinner she’d made him at her home, the way they’d kissed, and the fire she’d sensed between them.

  But he pulled away so quickly. She remembered his words and how they hurt her even now: “I can’t do this.”

  Maybe it’s not meant to be.

  She thought about her new Bible and her new life. I can only handle so much newness in my life at a time anyway.

  She walked to the bathroom and looked at her reflection. She thought again of their last kiss and made a promise not to be the first to initiate a kiss with Phin again. If he wants me, he’ll have to prove it.

  This is crazy. I’m on the run, perhaps with a killer on my heels, and yet my head is filled with these schoolgirl romantic ideas!

  She showered, prepared for bed, and opened her new favorite book, enjoying the feel and smell of the leather.

  After a few minutes, she whispered, “Good night, Father,” and turned out the light. Sleep was calling hard, and she couldn’t resist.

  Her mother screamed. “I want you out!”

  A man’s voice. Cursing.

  A slap.

  Crying.

  Images appeared, a view into the back bedroom from behind the couch, looking through the doorway. The man had a knife. Her mother screamed again.

  She didn’t want to hear. She shoved her hands over her ears and crouched low, hidden by the furniture.

  Bumping noises. Another scream, gurgling sounds, a heavy thud.

  She waited for a long time after the screaming stopped before going to find her mommy.

  She saw her on the floor. Still, like a doll in a crib. But something was wrong. The carpet was red.

  The man was there too, stretched out on the bed. Snoring and smelling like he did when he drank too much.

  He always drank too much.

  When he wakes, he will come for me, tell me I’m the one he wants.

  He hurts me.

  Hurts my mommy.

  The bad man has to die.

  Smoke. Fire licking the ceiling.

  My arm is on fire!

  The dream evaporated, but as soon as it faded, another took its place.

  A sense of urgency. Fear.

  Someone is coming.

  Blue uniform. Help?

  A cop?

  316! Remember this!

  Pain in my head. Blurred vision. Pushed against the wall.

  Being tossed against the window.

  A crash. I’m falling!

  Tori sat up in bed, breathing hard. She touched her forehead and wiped away the sweat.

  She felt like vomiting. She lifted her hand to her mouth and took slow breaths until the urge faded.

  The images had broken through her dreams.

  She pulled on a silk robe and paced the hotel room, trying to quell the panic, telling herself it was only a dream.

  She grabbed her room key and walked down the hallway to the next door, rapping softly at first and then with enough vigor to wake her friend.

  When he opened the door, he was shirtless, wearing a pair of jeans he’d evidently pulled on to answer. “Tori? What’s wrong?” He motioned for her to enter. “Did you get another phone call?”

  She shook her head. “Phin, it was horrible. I had a nightmare.” She paused as he opened his arms.

  She stepped forward. “I think I know what’s on that interview tape.”

  He reached for her face and brushed away a tear before closing his arms around her. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here.”

  When Tori awoke, it took a few minutes to realize exactly where she was. She was in a hotel room. But when she went to the bathroom, the toiletry items weren’t hers. They were a man’s.

  She walked back into the room as the realization dawned. I slept in Phin’s room.

  She remembered finding comfort in his arms. He’d held her, whispering comfort. She must have fallen asleep, and he covered her in his bed.

  Did anything else happen?

  She smiled at the thought but knew the answer. She would have remembered that.

  So where’s Phin?

  She walked back into the bathroom and thought about using his toothbrush. I don’t know him well enough for that.

  She walked next door, clutching her robe around her pajamas. Knocking, she said, “Phin?”

  After a few moments, he answered the door. She smiled. “So what’s this called? Musical rooms?”

  He chuckled. �
��Exactly.”

  “I need my own bathroom.”

  “Fine,” he groaned, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “I’ll go back to my room.”

  They swapped keys.

  He yawned. “Would you like some breakfast?”

  “Give me a few minutes. I’m going to freshen up.”

  He nodded but didn’t move toward his room. Instead, he spoke again. “I lay awake for a long time last night thinking about the dream you told me about. Something bothers me about it.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not sure, Tori. The dreams don’t seem to match.”

  She touched his arm. “But, Phin, we’re getting closer.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Almost there.”

  33

  Officer George Campbell had worked with Richmond PD for twenty-two years. Over the years he had heard plenty of stories, but none quite like Tori Taylor’s. He’d certainly never heard of a heart recipient being a witness to the murder of the heart donor. That said, he’d seen evidence of the break-in at her house and he’d seen all he cared to see of the heart some weirdo had sent her. So someone was playing a game with her. But just why, he wasn’t sure. Could she be right? Was she being targeted because of memories she’d inherited from her heart donor?

  He sighed and sipped a cup of lukewarm black coffee as he called the office to listen to his voicemail.

  “Officer Campbell, this is Tori Taylor. I was staying at the Jefferson Hotel downtown. Someone delivered some flowers with a note saying ‘You’re next.’ I left the flowers at the desk. I’m scared. I’m leaving town.”

  The call had come in late the afternoon before.

  He cursed. Why hadn’t he been told that she called?

  His first move was to call the Jefferson. The desk clerk assured him the flowers were still there, being held for Dr. Taylor.

  His second call was to Captain Ellis, Baltimore PD.

  After speaking to several officers, he mentioned Tori Taylor’s name. He was immediately placed on hold, and thirty seconds later was talking to the captain.

  “Captain Ellis.”

  Campbell launched into his story and wasn’t halfway through before Captain Ellis began chuckling.

  Campbell wasn’t amused.

  “George,” Ellis said as if they were the best of friends, “I’m sorry you’ve gotten mixed up in all this. I’m afraid the woman you’re calling about is certifiable. Crazy as a rabid fox. Maybe her heart medications are screwing with her smarts, know what I mean?” His words poured out in a rush.

  George could hear the squeak of a chair and a heavy thump, as if the captain had leaned back and dropped his boots on the edge of his desk.

  “For starters, think about it. Who has access to a heart like that?”

  “Someone sick, I’d say. A killer without a conscience. Someone who could do something like that and—”

  “Who else?” Ellis interrupted. “A surgeon, George! The woman probably went down to the hospital and took her own sick heart and mailed it to herself. Surgeons have access to the pathology lab. What do you think they did with the heart they took out?”

  “Captain Ellis, with all due respect, she doesn’t seem like the type to be playing such a joke.”

  “It’s not a joke to her. She’s sick. I sent a psychiatrist down there to interview her, and she confirmed everything I’m telling you. The memories must be made up. There’s nothing to suggest she’s a reliable witness to any murder. The woman is paranoid, plain and simple. Paranoid people invent threats. They like the attention.”

  “I don’t know, sir. I’ve interviewed her myself and the memories she described seemed real.”

  “Well, whatever this doctor has been telling you, let me tell you that I’m sure of one thing: the memories didn’t come from Dakota Jones.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because Dakota Jones isn’t a real person at all. She’s an alias.”

  George Campbell almost choked on his coffee. “What?”

  “Dakota Jones was working for Baltimore PD. She was undercover, working narcotics.”

  “Well, I’ll be—”

  “Exactly. Dakota Jones didn’t have a past to remember.”

  “And you didn’t tell this to Dr. Taylor?”

  “Didn’t think it was her business. Besides, when she told me she had Dakota Jones’s memories, I pretty much knew she was a kook from the get-go.” The chair squeaked again. “Anyway, when we lose one of our own, we always investigate. I had an officer on the scene very soon after that fire started, and he didn’t detect any evidence of foul play.”

  “So what do you make of Tori Taylor’s—”

  “Look, George. I’ve got reliable information from one of my best officers and then I’ve got a crazy woman telling me she thinks Dakota Jones was murdered. Who would you believe?”

  “I see what you’re saying, sir.”

  “Do me a favor. If she calls you back, find out where she is. I’d like to bring her in for questioning again. My psychiatric consultant thinks she may be of some danger to herself or others. Better yet, tell her to come up here and ask for me.”

  George cleared his throat. Dr. Taylor? Crazy? “Okay, sir.” He hesitated. “By the way, what was Dakota’s real name?”

  “Officer Emily Greene. One of Baltimore’s finest.”

  Phin looked concerned. “What’s wrong?”

  Tori reached under the table to rub her leg. “My ankle has been bothering me. Something like a chronic sprain.” She shrugged. “But I don’t remember spraining it.”

  “I checked the GPS last night. We still have about a two-hour trip.”

  Tori looked at Mary Jaworski’s business card. “We can put her office address into the GPS.”

  He nodded.

  She watched him sip his coffee. “I hope it’s okay you took off like this.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t give me a choice. You show up to my place, tell me your life is in danger … what’s a man to do?”

  “My knight in shining armor.”

  “Oh yeah, that’s me.”

  “Seriously, Phin. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “I get it. You don’t need to explain.”

  She looked around the room. There were a dozen other hotel guests eating from the free breakfast buffet. She wanted to talk to Phin about their relationship, but somehow, in the middle of a crowd stabbing toaster waffles didn’t seem to be the place. “Ready?”

  He drained his coffee. “Let’s go.”

  They checked out and headed north on I-95. After nine, Tori tried calling Mary Jaworski again. “Still no answer. All I get is voicemail.”

  “Isn’t there an office number?”

  “I tried that, too. All I get is a recording. I hope her office isn’t closed. She didn’t mention going on vacation or anything.”

  “She’s probably just busy. Hopefully she won’t be too put off by us just showing up.”

  “I’ll explain the threats. She’ll understand. If anyone can help me make sense of all these dreams, she’s the one.”

  They drove on, thankful for the sunshine. The traffic wasn’t even too bad. The worst part was Phin’s annoying tendency to change from radio station to radio station, searching for his favorite songs. Just as she was starting to enjoy a song, he’d change it. She hadn’t noticed it in other areas, but when it came to listening to music with Phin, he was a diabetic kid in a candy store. Everything looked good at first but could only be sampled in small quantities.

  “Musical ADD,” she muttered.

  They followed the mechanical female voice of the Garmin navigator. As they approached the final turn toward a professional building, they were surprised to find the building’s parking lot blocked
by four Baltimore PD squad cars and the front door ribboned off with yellow crime-scene tape. Blue lights on two cars at the edge of the parking lot strobed at a dizzying rate. Tori looked away.

  She thought she recognized one face in the crowd of blue uniforms, a stocky, muscular officer.

  They parked and walked across the lot toward the trio of officers. She looked for a name badge. It was him. “Officer Bundrick?”

  He looked over, obviously surprised to see her. “Dr. Taylor? What are you doing here?”

  “I was about to ask you the same question.”

  “You go first.”

  “I came to see the psychiatrist, Dr. Jaworski.”

  “You did? You have business with her?”

  “You might say that.”

  “Would you recognize her?”

  “Of course.”

  He lifted a radio from his belt. “Ron?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I might have a lady here who can ID the body.”

  34

  Christian slapped the CXR up on the view board and nodded. “This is good news, Ms. Dexter. The chest is clear.”

  Kesha shifted in her seat. “I still don’t understand why you’re looking at the chest. It’s his leg.”

  Christian took a deep breath. “One of the possibilities is a rare type of cancer. Cancer can spread. The lungs are one place that cancer spreads. I wanted to look at the lungs to be sure that what is in Mike’s leg hasn’t spread there.”

  Her lip began to tremble. “You sayin’ my boy has cancer?”

  “No.” Christian let his hand rest on Kesha’s arm. “But it’s one possibility. We still need to do a few more tests. I’d like to schedule Mike for an MRI of his leg and then consult a surgeon for a biopsy.”

  “Is it serious?”

  “Sometimes a mass like this is serious. Sometimes it’s just a benign growth and not serious at all.”

  She sat quiet and unmoving.

  “Do you understand what I am saying? Is there anyone else I should talk to? How about your friend Dakota?”

  “She didn’t come with me today.”

  Christian opened the chart and scanned for Kesha’s address. “Does Dakota live near you?”