by Corey Brown
Cody ignores Kooman. “You were doing the nasty, weren’t you?”
“Go to hell,” Tina says.
“And Jordan was a stud this time, wasn’t he?” Cody says, pressing. “A pro, right?”
“What kind of twisted creep are you?”
Cody faces Derek and says, “Sound familiar? Let’s see, where have we heard this story before?”
Derek nods. “I get the picture. It’s all weird, but weird doesn’t mean anything, doesn’t mean guilty. It’s not motive, it’s not proof.”
“It means more than you think, Agent Simmons,” says the stranger.
Across the room David stirs beneath the sheet and the stranger glances at him. In unison, both he and David draw a deep breath, together they fill their lungs, together they exhale. The man who is not a doctor closes his eyes. It is time. He turns, walks toward David but then stops, looks back at Tina McGrath.
“This baby,” the man says, pointing at Tina. “The one growing inside you now, you wanted it very much, didn’t you?
“How did…” Tina pauses, holds her rigid posture a moment longer but then deflates. She puts a hand to her forehead and nods. “Yes, yes I did.” Tina’s voice is child-like, a whisper.
The man looks at her, takes her measure, says, “Maternal yearning is a powerful thing, indeed.” Then his face turns dark, saying, “But, for this taste of motherhood, you have made an agreement, bartered your husband’s life for fertility. Listen closely, Tina McGrath, the price of this transaction will be suffering and heartache and sorrow. The creature in your womb will bring you no joy and its birth will torment you for eternity. There is no place to hide from this thing you have done. It will chase you to the grave and beyond.”
The man holds Tina’s gaze for a long moment, her expression revealing an intimate understanding of his meaning. She wants to avert her eyes but does not, cannot. The energy in the room seems to shift, becoming charged with a silhouetted quality. There is a sense of outline, a cast of reality, a collective feeling of comprehension but the man’s words register as truth in different ways to each person.
Everyone in the room knew of the McGraths, who did not? Splashed across television screens and newspapers were the allegations of wrongdoing, the stories of their financial ruin and, finally, exoneration. The courts had granted absolution but it was too late in coming, too late for public forgiveness.
Still, the McGraths were good people, sincere and decent. Their road to redemption began with the McGrath Foundation and after their fall from grace Jordan McGrath poured his soul into good works and community service. He worked hard to rebuild his reputation, earning trust and respect, finding his place again.
Despite the McGrath’s personal and financial investment in the community, in spite of it all, somehow each person in the room knows these harsh, mysterious words uttered by a complete stranger to be absolutely true. Tina McGrath had made a deal, a trade that gave her a baby and took her husband.
But just as this vague feeling of some shared perception was working up to the conscious level—did he say Tina was pregnant?---almost everyone in the ER feels another change. Like pulling the stopper on a bathtub full of water, knowledge and understanding and that sense of commonality drains away. What they had just heard, or thought they had heard, disappears from their immediate thoughts and most of them lose what little understanding had just crept into their minds
Without saying a word, Tina McGrath turns and walks out of the room. Her companion stares after Tina for a moment, mouth open, completely confused. Then she follows Tina through the door.
Seconds later another doctor cautiously enters the ER, then two nurses come in, their steps tentative as well. A muffled, low moan comes from behind a privacy curtain.
“Oh no,” Robiere says, looking at Doctor Kooman. “My over-dose, I forgot all about her.”
The stranger catches Robiere by the arm and says, “The others will tend to her and Mr. McGrath. I need your help. We must find a room for David.”
“But----”
“Now.”
The man looks at Suzanne and Cody, tips his head slightly and says. “Let’s go.”
Suzanne begins to follow but Cody makes a face. “Go where? I’ve got to find Todd.”
The woman behind the privacy curtain makes another noise. Robiere glances toward the sound. The stranger looks, too, knowing he has to get David out of there.
“What’s it going to be?” Doctor Kooman says. “Rose, are you treating this woman or not?”
“No, you are,” says the stranger. He places his hand at the small of Robiere’s back, gives her a gentle push. “A room for David. Please.”
Doctor Kooman starts to protest.
“Just do it,” Cody says, his tone sharp, commanding. “Or I’ll find a reason to make you miserable.”
Kooman draws a breath, giving Cody a look and, at that moment, the police detective knows this practitioner is no Sally-boy; there is a restrained fire in his eye and, quite probably, a call to his captain in the offing. But then, to Cody’s surprise, and quite wordlessly, both doctors move off. Rose exiting the ER in search of a private room for David, Kooman to the Loyola student recovering from too much Dramamine.
“Thanks,” the stranger says, watching the two doctors walk away. Then he takes hold of Cody’s arm. “I know things have been happening you can’t even remember, much less explain. And I know you know they’ve happened. You’ve been living in a storm ever since Nick was murdered but it’s important that you come with me. I can answer your questions and prepare you for what is about to happen.”
“No way,” Cody says, slicing the air with his hand. “I’m going after Todd.”
A sad expression crosses the man’s face and his shoulders sag a little. How can he tell Cody to stay? How can he tell Cody not to find, not to protect his son? But the dirty deed has been done, Cody’s only hope in saving Todd lies in knowledge, by understanding what is in play, knowing what is at stake. In this situation, the only way to learn is to hear and the only way to hear is to forget Todd for the moment.
“I won’t make you join us,” the man says, with a sigh. Somehow, Cody knows this man could make him go. “But you should come with me. What I have to say will help you find Todd. But more than that, you are not yet ready to go after him.”
Jamie stands next to Cody, slipping her hand in his. “Maybe you should go, honey.”
Cody stares at Jamie. “Don’t you want me to find Todd?”
“Of course I do.” Jamie shifts her weight uneasily. “It’s just that….I don’t know, something tells me you should go with this man.” She shrugs. “I believe him, I think you need to hear what he has to say.”
A cell phone rings.
“Agent Simmons,” Derek says, pressing the talk button on his phone.
“Call Justice, get your warrant.” It is Dan from the field office.
“Murdock? You found something?”
“Yeah, tons,” Dan says. “This guy is as dirty as my one-year old’s diaper, and smells even worse. I made copies of everything.”
“Excellent, good work. I’ll swing by the office first thing in the morning.”
“Are you someplace we can talk?” Dan says, his voice becoming tight, strained.
Derek glances around. Everyone is watching him, listening to his half of the conversation. His jaw tightens. Shit, he’d said it out loud; would the name Murdock mean anything to them?
“Derek? Can we talk?”
“Not really,” Derek says. “Are you going to be at your desk much longer?”
“I can be.”
“I’ll call you back in five.”
Derek disconnects the call. “Cody, I need to follow up on something. It won’t take long, but then we need to talk. Why don’t you go with this guy, give him ten or fifteen minutes. We’ll meet outside in the parking lot.”
Cody swallows. His head is telling him to find Todd, but his heart is saying, ‘listen to Jamie, go with this man.�
�� He looks at the stranger then back at Jamie. Cody shakes his head already feeling like he’s made a mistake. “Okay,” Cody says. “Let’s go.”
«»
At thirty-one thousand feet above South Carolina, in the galley of American Airlines flight 1800, Sawyer Clark closes her eyes. Tipping her head forward, Sawyer simultaneously rubs her left temple and presses two fingers into her abdomen. The waves of nausea are coming more often, closer together. The discomfort is not unbearable but the frequency of the attacks is alarming.
A violent storm cell hovering over Virginia and the Carolinas had caused a two-hour departure delay, so they are still a long way from LaGuardia. A hundred and twenty minutes spent waiting on the New Orleans tarmac had made both the passengers and crew irritable. But surly customers and a late arrival in New York was only half the problem, Sawyer has to work a commuter flight back home to Charlotte, which means she will not get home until after midnight.
“You okay?” An Asian flight attendant touches Sawyer’s elbow. “You’ve doubled over a few times, now.”
Sawyer straightens up, forces a smile. “Yes, I’m fine. Probably something I ate. It’ll pass.”
The young woman looks doubtful. “I don’t know,” she says, shaking her head. “If you think its food poisoning, you’ll need medical attention. That can be pretty serious. Maybe you should sit down for a while.”
“Alex, I’m fine.” Sawyer says. Then she winks. “Wait until you’re my age, you’ll have your share of strange illnesses, too.”
Alex studies Sawyer, doesn’t quite believe what she says. “Well, tell me if it gets worse. Okay?”
“I will. Now, what about the guy in thirty-two D? Is he still bitching about dessert?”
“No, thank God. The J&B is working its magic.”
Another flight attendant joins them in the galley.
“Are either of you getting tea for the elderly couple in first class?”
“Yes, I am.” Sawyer says.
“Green tea, right? They don’t want anything else.”
“Yeah, green tea. It’s covered.”
Sawyer hands four bags of chips, two cans of Pepsi and her Visa card to Alex. “These are for the teenagers back in sixty-five,” she said. “They’ve been really patient. Run my card through the Airfone, tell them they can talk to anyone for an hour.”
“Are you crazy?” Alex says. “That might cost a fortune. What if they stay on until we land? What if they call Tokyo?”
At times, Sawyer found her little charade as a flight attendant amusing. She could care less about money, her Visa didn’t even have a limit, for heaven sakes. Those two had been the best passengers on the flight and she wanted to reward them somehow. They could call everyone in Japan for all she cared, it just didn’t matter.
“Don’t worry,” Sawyer says, “They’re good kids, they won’t take advantage and I’ll check on them in a bit. I’d run the card through myself but Mr. and Mrs. Gavin are insisting I make their tea.”
Alex makes a face. “What is it with people? Like I can’t heat water and drop in little bags of leaves?” She shakes her head dismissively and holds up her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, fine, you make the tea. I’ll deliver the chips but tell me if you feel sick again.”
“You’re sick?’ the second flight attendant asks, looking at Sawyer.
“No, not really. I’m fine.”
The other flight attendant eyes Sawyer a moment longer then pours two coffees and goes to the cockpit.
Alex waits, watches the attendant for a moment and says, “I’ll bring your card right back.” As she heads toward the back of the plane, Alex looks over her shoulder, looks at Sawyer.
Alone with her cups of hot water and green tea bags, Sawyer wonders if she should see a doctor in New York or wait until she lands back home in Charlotte. Even as she considers these options, Sawyer knows full well her illness is not food poisoning or anything like it. Seeing a doctor in New York or Charlotte or anywhere else will be a waste of time.
At the fringe of her thoughts, Sawyer believes what she feels is like morning sickness but, in truth, she doesn’t really know how that would feel. Sawyer shakes her head at the idea. She had stopped paying the monthly menstrual bill some time ago. Besides, David never climaxed. At least, she didn’t think he had. Moreover, even ignoring the fact of menopause, it would be far too soon to feel the effects of pregnancy.
It is then Sawyer realizes neither of them had suggested any kind of protection. David never asked about birth control and she had not insisted on a condom. He had slipped inside, her body accepting him; neither of them thinking beyond the moment. These thoughts strike her as both fascinating and frightening.
Another surge of nausea.
Sawyer swallows, pushes down the fluid roiling around in her stomach. She knows exactly what this is and it is not food poisoning. Well, maybe she doesn’t quite know what it is, not for sure, but she knows when it started. She knows when it happened.
An hour after takeoff, and thank God they had been in the air, the roar of the jets covering any sounds, she had slipped into the restroom. With the door closed and locked, Sawyer had looked at herself in the mirror. Even then, she knew the self-appraisal was really an opportunity to think about David, a moment for memories.
Standing there, looking at her own reflection, Sawyer’s mind wandered. She had imagined David’s face, heard his voice, she remembered the smell of his hair, the feel of his hands gliding across her bare skin, his kiss. Sawyer thought about their walk down Bienville, her hand on his arm. They were moving, talking, like a couple. Her sense of loss was oppressive and, at the same time, completely inexplicable. Sawyer hardly knew David, why did she feel so strongly about him? But she did, she missed him, needed him like desert needs rain.
Strangely, as memories of David drifted through her mind, images of letters had mixed in with her thoughts. The letters of David’s name formed in her mind as if written on a sheet of paper. Then David had come to her, or at least that’s how it had felt. It was as though he had been right there with her in the restroom.
Sawyer could not remember if she had moaned or screamed but, in the moments following the sensation of David’s presence, she had experienced the most intense sexual feelings of her life. The rush was at once exciting and scary and satisfying. Sawyer was sure she must have cried out. Hopefully, the howl of the engines had drowned out any sounds she might have made. David’s name had appeared in her thoughts, her mind had emptied and her body rocked with both pain and pleasure then she had climaxed.
When Sawyer had opened her eyes, she was perched on the edge of the sink, her skirt gathered up around her waist, blue-gray panties on the floor. One shoe was off. She was very wet and falling into that luscious, post-orgasm descent. Sawyer had glanced at her watch, thinking she must have been in the restroom for a long time, but only four minutes had passed. She felt both fulfilled and embarrassed. She had never, not ever, masturbated on the job, certainly not in flight.
Because those feelings had been so intense, so personal, Sawyer had, at first, believed that David was responsible, that he had come to her, made love to her. But just as quickly Sawyer knew the sexual pleasure she’d experienced had been of her own doing. She knew this to be true not just because she was alone in a locked room, and not just because she was thirty thousand feet in the air, but because David was dead.
Still…
Now, lifting the tea bags out of the cups, Sawyer considers her trip to the restroom. The details are lost from her memory, but those four minutes had been the most intense of her life. All at once Sawyer understands she had not needed to use the toilet at all. An hour into the flight, she had excused herself, telling Alex and the other flight attendants that nature was calling, but even then Sawyer knew something else had prompted her to go to the restroom. For sure, nature had been calling but it was something quite different than what she’d consciously thought at the time.
Sawyer put a hand to her mouth, mani
cured nails touching her lips, the truth slowly filling her mind. There had been a purpose, a reason she had gone to the bathroom. She had been drawn to an event, drawn to the event.
Chapter 29
“Okay Dan, what’s going on?” Derek is walking across the hospital parking lot, cell phone pressed to his ear, talking to his man back in the field office.
“This Carlson guy,” Dan says. “What do you know about him?”
“Not much.” Derek pulls the car door open. “He’s a famous screenwriter and, according to the papers, he died early this morning. That’s about it. Why? Were you able to get into his machine?”
“Oh sure, that was easy. I accessed the condo’s network through one of their printers. People don’t know most of these high-end printers are shipped with remote management tools built in, which means there is a simple web server running on the machine. Since nobody knows it there, usually the web site is unsecured. Once you figure out the network addressing scheme, it’s a wide open door. You can walk right in.
Derek slides into his car, where the collected heat feels like a blast furnace. He cranks the engine and flips the air conditioning to high. “Okay, so you’re a byte head,” Derek says. “I’m impressed. What about Carlson?”
There is a pause in the conversation and Derek wonders if the connection is still active.
“I’m pretty sure this guy knew I’d be looking around,” Dan says, his voice flat.
“That’s not possible,” Derek shifts the phone to his other ear. “What makes you say that?”
“Well,” Dan says. “It’s like this: I break in, I’m just looking around, examining the system, figuring out where things are when I notice one of the files has a modification date from today. And not just that, the time stamp is only a few hours old.”
