by M. G Scott
Now he was the patient.
Sabrina buried her head in her lap, making sure to keep her stitched face from rubbing against her thigh.
She started crying—at first discreetly but then uncontrollably.
Why was she doing this to herself? She should just go back to New York and save herself from getting killed. But then she thought about Sanchez and Mona. They had helped her in her quest to find the truth. How could she just let their lives go to waste? And Brieman. She felt so much guilt about asking him to come with her. The truth was, it was her fault he was badly injured.
He had to make it. It would eat her alive if he didn’t.
A tap on the shoulder interrupted her thoughts. “Ms. Katz? Are you okay?”
She instantly recognized the gruff voice. “Detective Urbina. I’m glad you were able to come down,” she replied, wiping away the tears.
“I had to … especially when there’s attempted murder involved.”
“You mean the gunshots?”
“Wasn’t hard to figure out,” he replied. “When I find five bullet holes, that’s where I start.”
“Five?” The sudden thought she was lucky to be alive made her queasy.
A nod. “It appears the one that hit your left tire caused the blowout. That’s why Dr. Brieman lost control of the car.”
She shook her head. “It all happened so fast.”
“Do you know why they might’ve been coming after you and Brieman?”
“Yes—” she started. She was unsure how much she should tell but Detective Urbina seemed to be the only person she could trust right now.
He eyed her peculiarly. “You said ‘yes’. What do you mean?”
“We were coming from the coroner’s office,” she blurted. “That’s where they found us.”
“They? How many were there?”
“A man and a woman.”
“And what were you doing at the coroner’s office after hours?”
“Checking out a hunch.”
“About?”
“Eric Sanchez’s death.”
“Because you don’t believe his death was an accident?”
“That’s right. I didn’t then and I still don’t now. But now I can prove it.”
“What are you suggesting?” the detective asked.
“We found something. Apparently, Eric Sanchez had Atropine in his blood.”
Urbina looked away. “Causes heart attacks,” he muttered.
“Exactly.”
He turned back. “Are you sure? Because if it’s true, it’s a damn big thing to leave out of a coroner’s report.”
“I know … it was in the toxicology report but for some reason the coroner didn’t include it in the final.”
“The male and female that shot at you and Dr. Brieman … you think they were the ones that confronted you at the coroner’s office?”
A nod. “My hunch is they knew we’d find something.”
Urbina made a note in a small book he was holding. “Anything else?”
“Yes. It’s about Gina.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”
“Sanchez gave her a journal—almost like a diary. She mailed it to me before she was killed.”
“Now that’s interesting. Can I see it?”
“I don’t have it. It was in the glove compartment in the car. I think those two took it.”
“I see. Did you find anything interesting in it?”
“A lot. For starters, Sanchez felt his employer, BioHumanity, was blackmailing him.” She thought back to Brieman. “I just wish I could find that man and woman. I’d kick them both so hard …” Her voice trailed off.
A small smile. “I remember that attitude from the first day we met.”
“Hopefully you remember more than just my attitude.”
They were distracted by the neurologist trudging toward them, his navy blue scrubs soiled from surgery. Sabrina’s eyes gravitated toward him. “How is he?” she asked hesitantly.
The doctor tried to smile briefly. “First, I want you to know he’s stable. But on the way to the hospital, he started having seizures … so we got him a CAT scan and—”
Sabrina jumped to her feet. “What did you find?”
He paused, as if unsure how to say what was on his mind. “That’s when we realized the swelling near the temporal lobes.”
“Swelling? But how?” Sabrina replied. “He seemed fine … he was talking all the way to the hospital.”
“That’s where these things get tricky. When his head hit the dashboard it caused the brain cavity to shift toward the interior part of his skull. That caused swelling and a small brain contusion, which can be difficult to detect … that’s because there’s a delayed reaction after the initial trauma.”
Her stomach tightened as she slid back into the chair. She looked away. “Is he going to be all right?” she whispered, afraid of the answer.
An awkward pause. “Like I said, he’s stable. That’s the good news. But we had to put him in a medically induced coma to reduce the swelling. Our hope is that with the temporary coma, the metabolic brain rate will decrease … which will reduce the cerebral blood flow. That should reduce the pressure on his brain.”
She started shaking. “And if it doesn’t?”
“Then we’re going to have to open the skull to allow his brain some more room. But we’ll know that in the next twelve to thirty-six hours. We’re going to do everything we can to save the healthy brain tissue.”
“Oh God,” she gasped.
The neurologist knelt down and put a hand on hers. “I know you’re concerned. But I can tell you, once we make it to the other side of thirty-six hours, I know we’ll be okay. It’s just touch and go until then. The key is protecting his brain and that’s what we’re trying to do here.”
“How long will you keep him in the coma?”
“I’d like to start getting him off the barbiturates within the next seven days. Once he’s out of the coma, we’ll do extensive neurological testing to see where we’re at.”
“So you don’t know if he’s had any brain damage?”
He looked into her eyes. “I’m an eternal optimist. And I believe in Scotty. He’s a strong man, and if anybody can get through this, he certainly can.”
She put her hand on his, resolved to the fact she couldn’t do anything except wait. “Thank you, doctor. I know you’re doing your best.”
“This is family we’re talking about. I’m very confident in the team and I know God will do the rest.” He looked down at his phone. “Look, I need to get back.”
Urbina placed a hand on her shoulder. “C’mon, let me take you home. You need to get some rest.”
“No,” she protested. “I can’t. Scott needs me.”
“You’re not going to do yourself any favors staying in the waiting room. You’re going to fall asleep anyway. Trust me.”
The more she thought about it, he was right. A nod. “I am exhausted. It’s been a long day.”
He helped her up and led her to his unmarked police car, parked just outside the hospital’s main entrance. As he drove her down Hill Road, Urbina asked, “What’s next for you?’
Sabrina had nodded off but the question got her attention. She looked at him through the rearview mirror. “I don’t know. I don’t have a job anymore, a really good friend is life or death, and clearly someone’s trying to get me killed.”
“You should go home to New York.”
“You remember where I’m from,” she replied, ignoring the suggestion.
“You’re a difficult one to forget.”
“Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
He pulled up in front of her house and then turned toward her. “It’s late. I’ve got a lot of work to do to find these guys … but I want to make sure you’re safe. … So if it’s all right with you, I’m going to put a forty-eight hour detail on your house.”
“Thank you. It would mean a lot to me.”
“It i
sn’t a long time, and it’s all I can afford,” Urbina said apologetically. “But that should give you enough time to decide what you want to do. Once you do, let me know, and I’ll make sure you get to where you’re headed safely. And then let’s spend some time talking about the journal.”
She gathered her bag and stepped out of the car. “I’ll do that. Promise.”
“Sabrina … there’s one more thing,” Urbina called out through the passenger window.
She turned.
“I’m going to give you a piece of advice but I’m only going to tell you once. After all, you’re a big girl and can make your own decisions.”
“What’s that?” she replied wearily.
“First and foremost, you need to take care of yourself. Neskowin is always going to be here and Dr. Brieman’s in great hands. There’s nothing you can do help him get better. So I’d suggest getting as far away as hell from this town.”
Sabrina nodded but unsure how to respond. He was more than right. But how could she just pick up and leave when people were dying? Someone had to be punished … she couldn’t just let the deaths of Eric, Carla, and Mona go unnoticed.
“Good,” Urbina said. “I’ll look for your call when you decide what to do. … Just don’t be alarmed by the squad car parked outside your house.”
“I won’t. Having them here will be the most comfort I’ve felt all day.”
As Urbina drove off, she turned and walked toward the front door, her legs wobbly from fatigue. A car chase, the coroner’s office, and the hospital had sucked the life out of her. She fumbled in her bag for the key and then entered her dark, quiet but comforting home. She dropped her bag on the floor, flipped on the nearest light, and collapsed onto the couch sighing. Without her body warning her, tears started flowing again. She didn’t expect it but she also knew her body needed to release the intense stress and emotions consuming her … ever since arriving in the Pacific Northwest.
“What am I still doing here?” she yelled at the wall. It was in that moment that she realized why Blogg had fired her. He was protecting her. He didn’t want to see her get injured more than she already had. And sure enough, she hadn’t listened to a word he said. “Why be so stubborn?” she again directed at the wall.
And then she suddenly understood what drove her to stay: Closure.
There were people, like herself, searching for something … anything … that would guide them past the agonizing pain they felt. Every day it steered their lives. But they just couldn’t figure out what they were searching for: They didn’t know how to deal with what life had thrown at them just as Sabrina didn’t know how to make meaning of her own excruciating pain. But through her own actions since discovering Sanchez’s body, it was clear helping others gain closure helped her own soul move on.
And in the process … heal.
But she also knew she couldn’t heal unless she protected herself. There was no sense in dying fighting what life had thrown at her. She touched her bandaged face. She was walking a precarious tightrope between danger and closure that was hurting herself and everybody around her.
She sat in silence, staring out the front window. Enough is enough, she thought. She would heed the detective’s advice. Go home. Stay out of sight until she completed her journey safely.
A tapping sound near the rear of the house got her attention. She creased an eyebrow, wondering if it was the police officer.
Tap-tap-tap. Now it was a little louder.
She peered through the blinds in the front of the house. The squad car was there, the officer dozing inside.
Tap-tap-tap-tap.
Fear and anxiety vied for her attention. Should she alert the officer? But what if it’s nothing?
Deciding she’d wait before alerting anyone, she turned on all the lights and walked toward the sound.
TAP-TAP.
She froze. Someone was knocking on her back door. She turned, half-expecting the officer to be behind her, helping her out.
BAM-BAM. Now it was a fist.
“What do you want?” she screamed. But there was no answer, just silence. She waited, hoping maybe her voice scared whomever it was off.
BOOM. The whole house rattled as the intruder slammed his body into the door.
She eyed the lock. It was holding but one more hit like that and he’d be in. She backed away—her only hope was the cop sitting outside. She just needed to reach him, and wake him, in time.
BOOM. The door slammed open into the kitchen, carrying the intruder right with it.
Sabrina trembled with fear. She was so spent, she couldn’t even scream.
This is it. I’m doomed.
Chapter 44
“Ms. Katz?”
There was something in his voice that made her pause. She stopped trembling and turned toward him. He was on the tall side, maybe just over six feet, and looked to be in his early thirties. But everything about him was disheveled: His clothes were stained and seemed like he hadn’t shaven in days, maybe longer. “You need to leave,” Sabrina finally said.
“No … I mean … please Ms. Katz … I need to talk to you,” the intruder pleaded.
“There are police sitting outside my house,” she hissed. Her confidence was returning.
He took a step back, as if unsure how to handle her. “Trust me, I know. That’s why I’m using the back door.”
Sabrina crossed her arms, refusing to budge. “You owe me a new one.”
“Yes, of course.”
There was something in his voice that suggested a cry for help. Should she believe her instinct? “What do you want?”
“My sis … she’s dying and I need your help,” he replied, voice quivering.
Sabrina eyed him peculiarly. “From what?”
“Congenital heart disease.”
Now she wasn’t sure what to believe. “How do I know you’re not here to rob me, or worse—” She stopped, refusing to let herself go there.
“Look at me. Do I look like someone who’s going to rob or even kill you? I’m a mess.”
Sabrina pulled back her hair with a hand and stared at him. He was right. He was a mess. Maybe she should be more trusting. But it was just so damn hard. “I’m sorry for you and your sister. But I don’t know how I can help.”
He stayed where he was. “Would you let me sit down and explain?”
She looked into eyes. Maybe he’s telling the truth. Sighing, she relented. Pointing to a kitchen chair, she said, “I’ll give you ten minutes. But I warn you … I’m trained in martial arts and won’t hesitate to use it if I feel threatened.”
He put his hands on the table, palms up. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything to you.”
“And you’re going to have to pay for a new door.”
“Yes, of course. I already said I would.”
Sabrina smelled something. Alcohol maybe? “Do you drink?”
He looked at her sheepishly. “No. Not anymore. I gave it up.” And then he added, “But it’s really hard when I’m this stressed. And that’s been a lot lately.”
She put out a hand. “Apparently you know my name. What’s yours?”
“Excuse my rudeness.” He shook her hand. “Gregory Archer.”
“We’re well past that. With that entrance, you’ve already proven you’re rude.” She thought about what he had said about his sister. “Your sister … I’ll be honest, I’m not sure how I can help, but tell me about her.”
His head dropped as he struggled to find the right thing to say. After a minute, he looked at her, tears welling in his eyes. “Blair was diagnosed about six months ago but it was only in the last two months that things turned for the worse.”
“How so?”
“When we found out she had cardiomyopathy, the doctors told her, with the right treatment, she could very much live a normal life. But then things just got bad in a hurry. She started feeling extremely fatigued and then she fainted … twice in fact. When we rushed her to the hospital after the first
time, that’s when the doctor told us the bad news—her heart was failing more quickly than they originally thought. They said she wouldn’t have much time to live … unless she received a heart transplant.”
“How long did the doctors give her?”
“Two months, maybe three. But the bigger problem is she’s way down on the U.S. organ transplant list.”
Sabrina put a hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
He wiped a tear away. “Thank you. It’s been a rough few months.”
“I can imagine.” Sabrina walked past him, refusing to sit just in case he wasn’t who he said he was. At the same time, her gut told her he was telling the truth. “But I’m still not sure how I can help.”
“The gist of it is I need money to pay for the heart transplant and I thought you could help me get it.”
“If you think I have money—”
He put a hand up. “No. No. It’s not that at all. What I was hoping you could do is get the word out. Look, I saw your article in the Beacon on the Little Johnny statue and then I saw the editor’s note that you were the new human interest reporter, so I thought you’d be the perfect person to help me put together a fundraiser.”
“But I—”
“No!” Gregory said angrily, interrupting her.
“Excuse me?”
Realizing what he had done, he replied more tenderly, “Before you say no, let me explain. All I’m asking is for you to write an article that gives a little background on Blair’s condition and mention that people can send donations or attend the fundraiser I’m going to hold for her. I’ll take of the rest.”
“I don’t think you understand—”
“Please!” He lurched from the chair.
Sabrina backed away. She didn’t like the turn this was taking. She stole a peek out the front window and wondered if there was a way she could alert the officer.
He threw up his hands. “Please … don’t say no. You’re my only hope of getting the money I need; otherwise, she’s going to die.”
Sabrina briefly closed her eyes. Her confidence needed to show through, to get the tiger in the room to back off. “Mr. Archer! Will you please have a seat?” she demanded.
