Maggie rose from her desk. “Believe me, Mr. Bender, there’s no connection between Canon Edwards and Thor Emerson. But you’ve convinced me about the baby parts. I’d like more information, if you can get it. Some purchase orders, some of those invoices you spoke about, then maybe I can pass them along to where they’ll do the most good.”
Adam Bender rose from his chair and stood facing Maggie. “Don’t ever try to find me or contact me. When and if I get something, I’ll come and see you. And don’t forget your promise. You must never use my name or tell anyone about me.”
Shortly after Adam’s visit, Maggie heard a series of loud bangs. Now what? She left her office and headed down the hall toward the reception area. Agnes stood by a partially opened front door yelling through the crack. “Stop that! You just stop that right now!”
Maggie looked out and saw two boys, teenagers. It had been raining off and on for most of the day. A steady drizzle was soaking the boys, but they didn’t seem to mind. They had a bucket of rocks at their feet and were hurling them one by one at the Center. She pulled Agnes from the door and bolted it.
“Call Tooley and tell him to send a squad car. That should frighten them away.” Then Maggie headed back to her office.
“And what are you going to do?” Agnes said.
“I have my own phone call to make.”
Maggie dialed the familiar number and sighed with relief when Kirt and not his machine answered.
“Hi there,” she said. “Got any good jokes?”
“Well, sure! Have you heard the one about two neighbors who…”
Maggie closed her eyes and listened to his strong, comforting voice.
After seeing the insurance agent to the door, Thor Emerson began walking around the clinic with his own notepad. What could he salvage? Maybe Flo’s desk could be puttied, sanded, and restained. It was solid oak and would be costly to replace. He jotted that down, then wandered along the hall.
The pictures were still okay. No damage there. That was good, because he had spent a bundle on those. All original watercolors, matted and framed, a soothing distraction for the women on their way to the procedure rooms. But the large four-hundred-dollar artificial fern in the corner was spattered with blood and would have to go.
He dreaded going into the operating rooms again. That’s where the most damage had occurred; that’s where his wallet would be hardest hit. How could Thor have anticipated this? How could he have known that Canon Edwards would do something so extreme?
He entered the first operating room and after poking around, found a stainless steel sterilizer in perfect condition. He also noted that the procedure table was salvageable. It had a bullet hole, but a fresh vinyl cover would make it like new. No need to tell the insurance company, either. He’d just let them pay for a new one.
He spent several minutes in the second room but found only a medicine cabinet intact. He walked back into the hall and stared at the partially opened door of the last procedure room. He wasn’t even going to bother to go into that one. It was a nightmare. Thor shuddered at the carnage. He already knew nothing had survived there. He even found himself feeling sorry for Newly. He hadn’t wanted it to be like this. If only Newly had listened! Then I wouldn’t have had to hire someone like Canon. But this. He never expected this. He never wanted this.
Thor was about to turn and head back to Flo’s office when he noticed a piece of paper with a bloody smudge on it, stuffed into the bottom of the chart holder on the door. Slowly, he pulled the wadded page from the plastic holder and unfolded it. There, in childish printing, a printing Thor instantly recognized, was a single sentence.
The job ain’t finished yet.
9
DR. THOR EMERSON SWORE under his breath as he nodded for the attendant to flip on the suction machine. This was his twentieth abortion today. He ignored the young girl’s soft whimper, and when she began to moan louder, he became agitated and forced himself to work faster.
“It’ll be over soon,” he said, trying to comfort her, but his words sounded more like a rebuke. He had forgotten how much he hated doing abortions, how utterly angry and depressed they made him feel. What did they want from him? All these girls with their problems? You’d think they’d know better. Use birth control pills, something. But no, when they found themselves in trouble, they came to him, then complained because it hurt a little. Never showed any gratitude either. Just whined and complained. What do they want from me?
Dr. Emerson found himself almost recklessly probing the uterus with the plastic cannula and finishing the procedure much faster than usual.
“Next time, use birth control!” he said, stripping off his surgical gloves and depositing them in the waste can. Then he stormed out of the room, scowling at both the patient and attendant as he left. In the hall, he bumped into Clara Jackson, his new office manager, then brushed by her in a huff.
“Not so fast, Dr. Emerson. A word, if you please!”
Thor darted into the small kitchenette and began pouring himself a cup of coffee. Everything smelled new—the walls, the rug. Even the small white Formica table and four chairs he had added as an afterthought were new. It had taken two crews, working day and night for three weeks, to get the clinic back on its feet.
“You’re running way behind, Doctor,” Clara said, “and two of the girls in the waiting room have gotten nervous and left. Giving them too much time makes them nervous, makes them question. We can’t allow that, now, can we?”
Thor looked at Clara’s pockmarked face and saw her wince from his stare. A man-hater. He could see it in those raven eyes. The boys must have been cruel.
He thought of Canon Edwards and that blood-smudged note. He had brought it to the police and was given around-the-clock protection. He drew the line when a female detective wanted to work undercover at his clinic. That’s all I need, the police under my feet. But he had agreed that police should be staked out twenty-four hours a day at his clinic, at his home. There was no way Canon would be able to get to him without being seen.
“Dr. Emerson!”
Thor turned his back on Clara. But if Canon did hit the clinic again, and Clara got injured, it wouldn’t be that drastic. Not like Flo. That had really hurt. He was really sorry about that.
“A coffee break is hardly in order! What if more girls walk out?”
“I think you’re forgetting that I own this clinic.” He took a big swig of coffee, and turned just a bit so he could watch her black eyes narrow, like a bird of prey ready to swoop. “I’ll take breaks whenever I please.”
“Well, if you run your business this way, no telling how long it’ll be yours. You hired me to keep things organized, to keep the sled in the ruts, as it were.”
“Yes, but I didn’t hire you to ride me.” Thor watched the eyes harden even more. “The best thing that could happen for both of us is that the police find Canon Edwards.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because no doctor is going to step foot in this clinic until Edwards is safely behind bars. And I don’t want to be here, Clara. And you want to be in charge. Once I get someone to replace me, you can ride roughshod all you like.”
“I suppose if it weren’t for your Dorianna Gray and Second Chance contracts, you wouldn’t even bother coming in?”
“If it weren’t for those contracts, I’d keep the clinic closed until we found someone.”
“I’ll put a new ad in the paper tomorrow, perhaps list more of the job perks…but for now, since you are it, I need to remind you that Adam is still here and that not all his POs have been filled.”
“You’re going to make a great office manager, Clara,” Thor said, then drained his cup. “Thank God I won’t be here.”
When Thor passed the alcove next to Clara’s office he saw Adam Bender by the copy machine stuffing a handful of copied pages into a folder. “What are we looking for now?”
Adam reddened. “Ah…what? Oh…I need…ah…an eight-week spleen and pancreas, the e
ars and brain.” He began following the doctor down the hall.
Thor stopped in front of procedure room one, then pulled out a chart from the plastic file holder attached to the door. When he glanced at Adam he noticed the tech’s face was as red as a strawberry.
“Sorry, but I’ve got a twelve-weeker here. Need anything?”
Adam fumbled through his pile of unfilled POs, and almost scattered them all over the hall floor. “Ah…yes, the skin.”
Even through the crowd, Becky could see Skip coming toward her, and she spun around in the opposite direction. She didn’t want to talk to him, not now, not ever. She felt a loathing she had never thought possible to feel for anyone.
“Hey, where’re you going?” She felt fingers grasp her right upper arm. “Didn’t you see me coming?”
Becky shook her head and kept walking.
“Slow down, will you?”
With an exasperated sigh, Becky stopped and leaned against one of the lockers. “What?”
“You got PMS or something? I mean, what’s with you? You act like I’m diseased, like you don’t want to see me anymore. What is it? I mean, if that’s how you feel, the decent thing would be to tell me.”
“Decent thing? What do you know about decent?”
“Look Becky, I’ve had just about enough—”
“You, you, you. That’s all you ever think about, isn’t it, Skip? What about me? What about how I feel?”
“I don’t know what’s eating you, but if you don’t tell me, how can you expect me to understand—”
“Understand? You don’t understand anything! And do you know why, Skip? Because you’re a selfish, self-centered moron. You didn’t even come to see me when I was in the hospital. Not once. Not one time!”
“Are we back to that? I’ve already told you how sorry I was. I can’t help it that I had practice and then a big game. Why are you still harping on—”
“Because I almost died! That’s why. Because I almost bled to death getting rid of your…our baby while you were busy dribbling a stupid ball around the gym.”
“I never knew how bad it was…never…I swear. They told me it was a simple procedure. Like getting your teeth cleaned or something. I didn’t know you were in such bad shape, or I’d have come, game or no game I would’ve.”
“Well, you didn’t. And nothing can change that.”
Skip’s head dropped as he began tracing a circle with his sneaker. “I’m sorry, Becky.”
“So am I.”
“I don’t know what else to say. Tell me what to say and I will.”
“Say good-bye, Skip. Just say good-bye.”
“Becky Taylor, please stay after class. I need to speak to you,” Mr. Hanson said just before the bell rang and everyone began scrambling out.
Becky tried to scurry out with the rest of the class and pretend she hadn’t heard him. But he made his way to the door before she did and was waiting for her.
With a nod of his head, Mr. Hanson indicated she was to sit down in one of the front row desks. Then he waited for the last pupil to leave and took the desk next to her. For as long as possible, she avoided his face by staring into midair, but gradually his silence pulled her eyes to his. She noticed how tired he looked, how old.
“What’s going on with you, Becky? You’re one of my better students, actually my best. So when a teacher’s top pupil gets an F on her last two exams and a D-minus on her term paper, that teacher must ask himself some serious questions. One—has said teacher failed to hold that pupil’s interest? It happens. Sometimes by the end of the year a teacher is burnt out, doesn’t always give his best. Is that the case, Becky? Have I lost your interest?”
Becky shook her head slowly.
“Then I must revert to two—that said student finds herself in some serious difficulty. So I repeat my question, what’s going on with you?”
Tears began streaming down Becky’s cheeks. “Nothing. nothing that you can help me with.”
“A high school is a small community. Not much happens that isn’t common knowledge. There have been rumors…innuendoes…and if correct, then I understand how serious things are with you. And since I’m retiring at the end of the year, I feel freer to come right out and say what I want.”
He paused and Becky could see a wistfulness on his face. “Becky, if things are serious, if they’re as bad as rumors say, then know this, and tuck it away somewhere for later. I am praying for you and will continue to do so. And God, if you will allow Him, can reach into your deepest hurt and heal it.”
Maggie picked up her cordless and a scrap of paper and walked into her living room. She glanced at the phone number in her hand. For the past three hours she had felt that familiar nudge from the Lord. She would wait no longer. She dialed the phone.
“Hello…Mr. Taylor? This is Maggie Singer from the Life Center. I just wanted to call and find out how Becky’s doing.” She heard a sigh.
“About the same.”
“Since your visit to my office, you and your family have been in my prayers—”
“Listen, I’m not up to this right now. Okay?”
“Okay. But before you go, I just wanted to ask if you had thought about that Project Rachael program I told you about?” She heard another sigh.
“She can’t go on like this much longer.”
“What’s going on? What’s happening?”
“Her grades are falling. She won’t see her friends. She’s depressed, won’t eat. And that crying…night after night. I’ve tried everything, but I can’t make it right. I just can’t make it right. Becky’s whole world is coming down around her. My wife’s afraid…she’s afraid that Becky might hurt herself.”
“Why don’t you let her come to our next meeting?”
“I don’t know…”
“We’ve helped so many girls like Becky.”
“We’ve tried everything short of a psychiatrist.”
“Then I can expect to see Becky next Sunday night at the Center?”
“I don’t know…I’ll think about it.”
Thor Emerson swore under his breath as rain streaked his windshield. Overhead, a mass of clouds hung so low Thor felt as if he were driving in a cave. It had been raining off and on for over four weeks now. He couldn’t remember Brockston ever getting so much rain, and he hoped it would end soon. It was making him feel out of sorts—despondent, gray. Maybe a few laps in the pool would perk him up.
As he pulled down his street he saw the familiar dark sedan parked across from the house. He supposed he should be grateful. They had never missed a day, not since he had given Lieutenant Tooley that paper. Still, Thor didn’t feel too grateful. He felt more angry, disgusted. The Brockston police force was one thousand strong. Surely you could expect more results. The quicker this thing was over, the quicker his life could get back to normal, and the quicker he could forget and put it all behind him. Why can’t they find Canon?
When he drove up the circular macadam driveway, he was surprised to see his wife’s car parked near the front door. The only correspondence he had had with Teresa in almost a month was from her bloodsucking lawyer. He was in no mood to entertain an estranged wife. As he got out of the Lexus, he bumped his head and let out a string of curses.
The Tiffany glass front door was unlocked, and Thor quietly entered. He stood for a moment in the marble hallway, then heard noise in the kitchen and headed that way. From the doorway, he watched Teresa make herself a cup of tea. It annoyed him that she still felt so much at home, in the home she had chosen to leave.
“Hi there,” he said, slipping onto the stool by the polished granite counter.
Teresa looked up from her tea and smiled. Thor could see he had not taken her by surprise, that she had known all along he was there, watching her.
“Mind telling me what you’re doing here?”
“I want to talk to you.” Teresa took a sip from her cup, then leaned her elbows on the counter.
“I’m surprised you’d want to ta
lk to me without your sleazebag lawyer present.”
“What I have to say is private.”
“Okay, so say it. You have two minutes.”
“Ever the arrogant, the egotistical—”
“I’ve had a hard day. I don’t plan on having a hard night. Spill your guts, Teresa, like always, and get out.”
“Okay, you want it short and sweet, so here it is. Don’t try to take Eric from me. My lawyer says you’re trying, along with everything else. I don’t care about the house, your business, or your stock portfolio. You can have them all. I’ll settle for alimony, child support, and Eric. You don’t love him, Thor. You couldn’t care less. But he’s my life.”
“Exactly, and that’s why, no deal.” Thor was surprised when he felt his heart racing, when he felt moisture on his palms. “You shouldn’t have walked out on me. I can’t forgive you for that. I’ve worked hard to make a name for myself, to elevate the Brockston family to its rightful place. You know how important that is to me. And you did it anyway. You made me look bad.”
“I know you hate losing. But this is low, even for you.”
“I’ve decided to leave you with nothing. By the time I’m finished you may have to pay me.”
“Don’t do this, Thor. Please. I’m begging you.”
“You shouldn’t have left. People are talking. You’ve made me look like a fool…a failure.”
“Thor—”
“Now I’m going to rake you over the coals, Teresa, and watch the skin burn right off. I can hire a dozen men who will testify they were your lovers. I can produce hotel and restaurant receipts if I have to.”
Teresa eyed him coldly. “You plan on keeping Louie busy.”
Thor chuckled. “Everything can be bought for a price. You ought to know that.”
“Yes, if there’s one thing you’ve taught me it’s that everything’s for sale. But I just didn’t want it to come to this.”
Thor watched with satisfaction as Teresa blinked back tears. Tears. Nothing had changed.
Tears in a Bottle Page 14
