Pacing the worn carpeted floor, Gwen ran one hand through her unwashed hair then gathered it in an elastic band, only to repeat the process a few moments later. What should she do? Thoughts too numerous to focus on and deal with whirled through her mind, making her head hurt. Images of that body being heaved into the furnace haunted her the most. Who was he, anyway? Why did they kill him? She was fairly convinced now that Dr. Katz had been involved. But why—she had no clue. Then, to add to her confusion, other thoughts, strange and compelling, floated into her mind—not at all clear yet, like storm clouds threatening in the distance.
And then there was Rob. She needed to talk to him. She really needed to be held by him. But—and this part made her want to scream—he was busy all weekend doing family things or riding bikes, for God’s sake. He’d texted her that he would meet her Monday night at ten o’clock at the hospital, the earliest he could get away. He said he had something important to tell her. Maybe he was going to break it off with her again? Monday night might as well have been next year. She needed him now. Gwen resented the fact that it always seemed to be on his terms—whenever he had time, she should drop everything and run to him.
She had left that crazy Sudoku puzzle in Rob’s mailbox at work Friday with a brief note. She wondered if he had gotten it. She still believed that the puzzle was linked somehow to the gruesome events Friday morning.
She had to make sense of it all somehow. Time was running out. Jim would be home soon. She stopped pacing for a moment and looked at the La-Z-Boy recliner—his chair. He spent more time in that chair than she’d have thought was humanly possible. He would come home and quickly park himself on the recliner and watch the game—it was always “the game,” as if this one was somehow critical and more important than all the others before it. And of course he watched it on their new flat screen TV that they couldn’t really afford. He usually popped a beer—she had come to doubt that it was his first of the day. He probably drank the beer to cover up any beer smell from work.
She noticed that Jeffie’s artwork was still on the floor next to his chair, where Jim had tossed it. She recalled the conversation from Friday night:
“Look what Jeffie drew today.” She handed him the crayon drawing on construction paper. Jeffie had traced his little hand and made it into a Thanksgiving turkey.
Jim took the paper, not meeting her eyes, and glanced at it so briefly that he couldn’t have seen it. “That’s nice,” he said, tossing the paper aside, his eyes already returning to the TV.
“How was your day?” she persisted.
“Okay.”
Gwen bent down and picked up the drawing that Jeffie had been so proud of. Such a cute little turkey. Sadly, she had actually learned how to decipher Jim’s responses to her simple question, “How was your day?” “Okay” meant he was tired and didn’t want to talk about it. “Pain in the butt” meant someone/something at work had pissed him off and he would soon get around to venting or ranting about it. When he was horny—although this didn’t happen as much anymore—his answer was something crude, like “long and hard like my dick.” She smiled wryly. And some people thought that romance was dead.
But she didn’t dare say any of this. Sarcasm, let alone frank disagreement, would immediately trigger a fight—usually a loud one. She couldn’t bear to subject the kids to this anymore. It wasn’t that she was scared of him, per se. He had never actually hit her, although if push came to shove, she wouldn’t put it past him.
It was funny, though. Early on, she remembered, she would engage in their fights with vigor and even match his yelling. That was when the marriage counted for something and she had some feeling invested in it. There was still some passion and something worth fighting for. Now, it just wasn’t worth the effort. He wasn’t going to change and she wanted desperately to shield the kids from any more ugly scenes. Better to play the game, keep up appearances, try to pacify Jim, and bide her time until things changed.
Maybe, when the kids were older and she got her bachelor’s degree, the time would be ripe to leave him. She relished how she would tell him—calmly, matter of factly, with little emotion. She imagined the scene over and over.
She’d start off with, “How was your day?” as she always did. He’d respond with one of his stupid, brain-dead answers, it didn’t matter which one. She’d say, “That’s nice. By the way, I’m leaving tomorrow. The kids and I found an apartment in Dillsburg. Here’s our new phone number.” Just like that—and she’d hand him a slip of paper with the number.
Would he be upset, mad? Would he cry and beg her forgiveness? Would he finally haul off and hit her? Although Gwen couldn’t predict what he’d do, she realized, sort of sadly, that she didn’t care.
It felt good to replay the scene, though—it made it easier to slog it out in the trenches and carry on. Because the truth was, she wasn’t ready to leave Jim. There was no English degree yet—it was still years off. And there was this little, nagging fear of plunging herself and her children into the unknown with no safety net.
Then Rob came along out of the blue and turned her world upside down. In fact, she hadn’t realized how bad things were with Jim until she met Rob. He helped her crystallize some of her thoughts and feelings. For the first time in her life, someone actually cared about her thoughts and feelings. How different was that?
Furthermore, she could have discussions with Rob about issues other than football or baseball, or where the cheapest beer was to be found. He even read books, for God’s sake, and liked to talk about them. They shared similar tastes in art and music—in fact, pretty much everything. She hadn’t realized men like that existed. In a word, he was perfect.
Well, almost perfect. There was one little problem—this wife thing. Gwen didn’t even know the woman, but she hated her. Cynthia—what kind of prissy name was that? What was her problem, anyway? Here she had life handed to her on a silver platter—a gorgeous, intelligent, caring guy like Rob—and she couldn’t even make it work. She couldn’t keep Rob happy. How hard would that be?
Gwen realized she was in love with Rob and that this was no doubt coloring her view of the situation. She was old enough to know that no one was perfect—everyone had their faults or imperfections. But she believed with every fiber of her being that she and Rob were soul mates, they were meant to be—destiny at work and all that.
Now, Gwen had a new scene that she liked to play in her mind. The one where she would welcome Rob into her arms and life. She would practically crush him with a big hug. She would smother any imperfections he had with her love. His imperfections would just make him human, after all. All she needed was one shot at this. This was a no-brainer—a win-win for all involved.
She thought back to their conversation that memorable day at the Hilton last week. What was it he had said to her? About how if his wife’s plane went down, how much simpler it would make things. He obviously wished, like her, that his wife were out of the picture. So he’d be free to be with her.
Images of Rob and Jim and Dr. Katz and that poor man on the litter continued to swirl in her mind. But some ideas began to emerge from the chaos. Finally, for the first time in her life, she’d been dealt a hand with some high cards. She had a play to make here. Should she talk to Rob about it? Concoct some sort of lover’s plan?
Her pacing had taken her back into the foyer and she reached for her purse. She took out a folded piece of paper. She opened it carefully, smoothing the creases down gingerly, almost reverently, and read the poem again for the hundredth time.
Gwen, you weave the softness of my dreams,
Caress the essence of my mind.
Love, from my body to yours streams
By the fiery stars aligned.
I long for the day we may be as one.
Time moves slowly and yet it seems,
Our love has scarcely begun.
Gwen, you weave the softness of my dreams.
She folded the paper and tucked it safely back in her purse. Her tear
s flowed freely. No one had ever written her a poem like that before. No one had ever written her a poem, period. So sweet, so tender. But she cried all the more when she thought about it. Because she knew, deep down, that Rob simply didn’t have it in him to help her execute any plan—he didn’t have a mean bone in his body. This was probably why she loved him so much—and this final irony was not lost on her. But dear Rob had never been pushed to her extremity—never had to live in her world of anguish and broken dreams. She’d have to go this one alone.
Gwen pulled into the parking lot of the Medical Arts Building adjacent to Swatara Regional. Because it was Sunday, the parking lot was deserted—just what she wanted. She had decided to take a closer look at the billing office when she wasn’t so freaked out, searching for clues to the dead man’s identity. If she got up enough nerve, she might even revisit the basement of the hospital.
After swiping her key card to gain access to the building, she walked down the hallway toward the elevator, opening her purse to replace her key card. At the bottom of her purse, her cell phone lit up as if it was about to ring. Strangely, it didn’t. She pulled it out to take a closer look. The phone was dialing a number—a long-distance number she didn’t recognize. That was odd. Had she bumped the phone when she got her card out? But how could she have entered such a long number? The dialing suddenly ceased. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she knew how to stop it. She pushed END and the phone went dark.
CHAPTER THIRTY
MONDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 10:00 A.M.
Kim Daulton maneuvered her Toyota Highlander smartly into a parking space at the Medical Arts Building, eliciting faint squeals from her front tires. She gazed at the attractive brick building of Swatara Regional Hospital. Sometime in the coming week she would be leaving that building with a newborn baby. Not just any baby. She would be cradling dear little Abigail, whom she felt she already knew, in her arms. It seemed strange, yet fearfully wonderful to imagine this—a dream come true. She and Luke would be mother and father, not just husband and wife. Kim practically shivered with anticipation and prayed that the time would pass quickly.
Kim was running about ten minutes late for her appointment because she had paused to let Colby outside before she left. Once outside, she hadn’t been able to resist tossing him a ball a couple of times. Now she had to walk as briskly as her bulging belly would allow toward the building, not wanting to show up any later. She shivered a bit and regretted not bringing along her sweater. The weather looked unsettled; the sky was mostly cloud covered with just glimpses of blue. And without the sun, the wind was downright cool—perhaps the Indian summer was finally packing it in. She entered the building lobby and took the elevator up to the fourth floor.
The waiting room was crowded and noisy. Five other women, some obviously pregnant, were already seated about the room. Several had brought toddlers with them. One expectant mother had her hands full—a toddler at her feet and an infant on her lap. The toddler was amusing itself on the floor with some toys while the infant squirmed in the mother’s lap and looked like he’d be crying before long.
When Kim checked in, the receptionist informed her that the schedule was backed up because Dr. Gentry had gotten called away for an emergency C-section. Dr. Seidle was here seeing patients. Kim sighed and took a seat. She kicked herself for not bringing her book. She was reading Marley and Me, but had flown out of the house in such a hurry that she’d left it sitting on the kitchen table.
She was also sorry she wouldn’t be seeing Rob Gentry today. It had been definitely tough switching to a new OB practice midway through her pregnancy when they had moved to Hershey in September. But Dr. Gentry had come highly recommended and, over the past several visits, she had built up a nice rapport with him. He had a very calm manner about him and made her feel comfortable and relaxed. He also seemed to know what he was doing. She knew this combination was hard to find in a doctor.
She was glad that Luke had gotten to go cycling with Rob on Saturday. Luke could certainly use a friend and, though Rob was somewhat older, the two seemed to share some of the same interests. Although she had to admit, she was a bit surprised when Rob pulled up in his fancy sports car and hopped out in his skintight biker duds.
People are funny, though, Kim thought. You think you know someone or can categorize them or at least have a general idea about them, and you can be so wrong. It’s not really that you’re wrong, but you may have completely missed a whole other side of the person. Rob seemed like such a dear in the office, caring and gentle. She could hardly believe it when Luke told her he was thinking about leaving his wife for another woman. What drove men, or women, for that matter, to stray, she didn’t have a clue. Although she had never met Rob’s wife, Cynthia, and hadn’t heard glowing reports about her, she couldn’t help but feel bad for her. She hoped that for their kids’ sake they could patch things up. She would pray for them.
Her thoughts turned to her husband. Luke hadn’t been himself recently—he was as lovable as usual, but something was clearly troubling him, and Kim was worried. She couldn’t tell if it was the new job, the whole baby thing, or what. He was definitely having trouble sleeping, no matter what he said.
Did Luke have a side of him that she was unaware of? She didn’t think so. She knew the two of them loved each other deeply and she felt she could trust Luke unconditionally. So why did she sometimes feel he wasn’t telling her the full story?
Kim felt it had something to do with his father. As open and honest as Luke was, he had always been somewhat reluctant to talk about his father’s death. She understood that Luke had a complicated love/hate relationship with his dad and it had to be tough, having him die at such a young age. She couldn’t imagine losing her own father. But she also knew Luke’s dad had been pretty hard on Luke and had placed a lot of expectations on him as a boy. As a result, Luke was always driven and had trouble taking it slow and relaxing. Kim helped him on that score, but it was a work in progress.
The infant across the room started crying in earnest and interrupted her thoughts. The mother, looking frazzled, rummaged around in her big purse or bag or whatever you called it; it looked like it could’ve passed for carry-on luggage. She found a small baggie with Cheerios and offered one to her baby. Kim wondered how she herself would stack up as a mother, or how Luke would do as a father. This whole parenting thing was a huge responsibility. Maybe she was overreacting; maybe it was just the stress of becoming a new father that had Luke on edge.
She clutched her crucifix and said a quiet prayer. She prayed for a healthy baby, a smooth delivery, and the strength to get through any unforeseen difficulties. She also prayed that Luke would receive the comfort he needed. She relied heavily on her faith as she went through life to help her through the tough times.
Kim felt unexpected tears come to her eyes as she thought that Luke shared no such faith. She hated to become weepy in public—darn hormones. This was the only sticking point in their whole relationship. It wasn’t like they never talked about religion. Just last week, she had come home from church, excited. She shared with him a passage from one of the morning’s Bible readings; she hadn’t given up on applying the art of gentle persuasion to help him overcome his agnosticism. The gist of the reading was that even the demons believe in the spiritual realm. Luke appeared to listen and said he had actually heard this verse before. But then he told her not to pressure him—he said he needed to arrive at this decision himself. She knew his lack of belief had no doubt been shaped by his father. Perhaps the experience of fatherhood would open up a spiritual side of Luke that she knew was buried in there somewhere
Kim glanced at her watch—she’d been sitting here for twenty minutes. God, she wished she had brought her book. Then she remembered the puzzle she had tucked in her purse—that crazy Sudoku puzzle Luke had given to her on Saturday. Ever since she had been a little girl, she always loved a good puzzle. She pulled the newspaper page out and unfolded it and reacquainted herself with the numbers. Agai
n she was struck by an overwhelming sense that someone had put these strange entries in to send a message—it was not merely a botched attempt to solve the Sudoku. She decided to focus on just the inked-in numbers:
-273/√-1/50/50/86,400/2.71
6.02*10^23/3.14/2.71/8.714/3*10^8/2.71
Kim was determined to find out just what that message was—this was far more tantalizing than simply solving a difficult Sudoku. And it was a far better way to occupy one’s mind, which would otherwise worry about all sorts of things. So Kim welcomed the distraction of the puzzle, but the screaming baby made it hard to concentrate.
Kim realized she probably wouldn’t be able to give the puzzle her full attention here at her OB appointment. But, she also knew her brain was capable of multitasking and could work on this in the background while she went about her busy life. She just needed to lay the groundwork and load in the basic building blocks of the puzzle. Her brain would take care of the rest. She felt if she could get a quiet hour or two alone, she could crack this thing.
Just then, a nurse with a chart in her hand came into the waiting room and announced to the crowd, “Mrs. Daulton.” She scanned the room with a blank look—clearly she didn’t recognize Kim from Adam.
Kim stood up with the Sudoku in one hand, her purse in the other.
“You can come back now,” the nurse said and held the door for her.
Kim wound her way through the toddlers to the nurse, careful not to trip on the toys strewn about the floor.
“Dr. Seidle will be seeing you today,” the nurse added matter of factly. “Dr. Gentry is tied up doing a Caesarean section.”
Kim already knew this and was resigned to the fact that in a busy OB practice there were no guarantees who you would ultimately see. Mark Seidle was okay, but he sure didn’t have Rob Gentry’s bedside manner. And, she had to admit, he wasn’t nearly as easy on the eyes, either. In addition, now that Kim had the Sudoku on her mind, she would’ve liked to touch base with Rob regarding any background information about the puzzle that might help her solve it. Like for starters, why had he said it was urgent?
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