"I'm not at all sure I care what you think, Andrew."
"Elizabeth, I didn't agree with the plan. I argued with Sir Anthony about it. And, I called you, but you didn't answer your phone."
"Don't you dare try to put this on me!"
"I'm not Beth. Really. I knew you were already upset with me after I showed up at the cemetery -- but I didn't follow you. I swear. Although, after all this, you'll probably never believe me."
After a long silence, Beth admitted, "I didn't not answer your call. I lost my phone. And, before I could talk to Ruth about it, Bridget told me Sir Anthony wanted me in his office. After that, I didn't give a damn -- about the phone or anything else."
"A truce, Beth," Andrew said, "all right?"
"All right."
"When did you lose your phone?"
"That afternoon. Or, it might have been that morning. I don't remember, really."
"It might be important. We have to look at everything you did from the time you went back to work, right up until the time you left. We might have to even think back further -- before you were hurt."
"For all I know, it might be under some papers on the desk. I don't know. I told you, I don't remember the last time I had it."
"All right," Drew told her, in what he hoped was a soothing tone.
"But, you're right about needing to stop for a while. I'll look for a place we can go in and sit for half an hour, okay?"
"We'll both feel better after we stretch our legs and get some warm food. And once we get back on the road, maybe I can help you remember just when the cell phone went missing."
"All right, Drew."
"Beth, I can't reach out for you. I can't hold you, with this bloody arm, I can't even touch you. And it's a terrible feeling. Please, I know you're driving, but please touch my knee, or my cheek, or something -- every once in a while. I feel so separated from you. I'm within inches of you, and I feel like the Grand Canyon is between us."
"I'm sorry, Andrew. I know you're hurting, and you probably have a fever. I'm so tired, I can barely see the road. So, I'll find a place for us to take a break."
"Okay," he said. He tried to turn, so he could look at her, but a pain shot through his shoulder, and he winced.
"Are you all right?" Beth asked, as she took a quick look in Drew's direction. "You don't think you're bleeding, or anything, do you?"
"No, I don't think so."
"I can probably get peroxide or alcohol, and some bandages, when we stop for gas. And, I'll clean it out again."
"No. No, you used the entire bottle of peroxide and then the alcohol. It's about as clean as it can be -- at least, with the bullet still in me. Besides, you did a really good job binding me up. I'm fine. Although, I might have to take another pain pill. I shouldn't have tried to turn towards you. It's really hurting now."
Beth hit the turn signal, and made her way to the right lane, and then the exit. "We'll stop at this Denny's. It's not great food, but you'll be able to get breakfast or whatever you want, and it will be inexpensive and quick. When we park, you just open your door. I want to check and make sure it hasn't started bleeding -- or worse, draining."
"But, Beth--"
"I'm not going to unwrap you. I just want to peek. I agree with you. I can't rewrap you in a parking lot as well as you're wrapped up now." She looked at him and asked, "What if we call Jack? Couldn't we make a collect call, or buy a track phone?"
Andrew shook his head. "No, Beth. I just don't think we can risk it. Right now, we think we're okay -- that we're not being followed. But, Jack was sure that we were all right in New Orleans. He thought that whoever killed our purse thief believed they'd succeeded in killing you. And that was a mistake." He pounded his right fist on his knee, and said, "I should have kept you in the apartment, until Jack could wrangle a way to extricate us."
"Extricate us?"
"Yes, we were foolish to traipse around like we were on vacation. Not when I knew that for whatever reason, someone wanted you dead. And not only wanted you dead -- but didn't care how many people they killed to get you."
She pulled into a handicap spot near the restaurant door, turned off the car and unfastened his safety belt. Then she got out.
As instructed, Drew just opened his car door, swung his legs out and waited. Beth came to him, unbuttoned the sports coat, allowing it to slide off his left shoulder. Then she tenderly inserted her hand beneath the binding. She pressed gently around the wound, as Andrew winched in pain. "I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I don't feel any draining. But, it feels harder than it originally did. And, I think it's warmer than it should be."
"I'll be fine, Beth."
While she helped him get the sports jacket back on, she asked, "How crazy does this sound..."
"I'm listening."
"We get some more peroxide and alcohol, and--"
"I've already said I think it's well bandaged. And you'll never be able to truss me us again, as well."
"Yes, I know. But -- and here's the crazy part -- if there is pus building up, we use it."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Well, it was a pretty clear cut wound, so the edges of the bullet hole have probably already begun knitting. So even if pus is building behind the bullet, it no longer fits through the wound."
"Why do I really not like where this is going?"
"Because you're acting like Tom would -- a big baby?"
"Oddly enough, I don't feel that's it. No."
"We just 'open' the wound up a bit...like an episiotomy for the bullet."
"A what?"
"Episiotomy. You know, it's where the obstetrician makes a teeny, tiny incision or two -- so the baby's head can get out easier."
Andrew grinned at her and asked, "After all this time, are you once again implying I have a big pumpkin head?"
Elizabeth must have remembered that conversation -- one of the last they'd had before James' death. And, for one awful minute, Drew was afraid she was going to cry. But she surprised him, because she smiled over at him, and said, "We have no need to discuss that any more -- since we've already established that you do.
"Anyway, we make three or four teeny, tiny nicks, really, and then apply a little even pressure, and pop that bullet right out? What do you think?"
"Ah...you know I love you, right? But, there is no way that I'm letting you pop this bullet out of me like some teenager's blackheads. With or without an episiotomy!"
"It was only an idea. Then it would be out of you, and any infection could drain."
"Let's stop talking about this and get inside, or I'm not going to want to eat anything."
"Well, all right." And, as she walked ahead of him, she mumbled, "I went over that railing for you..."
"I heard that. And, you're talking apples and oranges. The two are not comparable." But, he caught up with her, wrapped his right arm around her, and kissed her neck.
He was very glad that rather than pull away, she leaned against him, and as he kissed her, she let out a little sigh.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
As soon as they were seated at a booth, a waitress popped up, handed them menus, and asked if they wanted coffee. Beth nodded yes, but Andrew said he wanted hot tea.
"Why don't you have coffee, Sweetheart? Or a soda?"
"I don't think the coffee will sit well. And I want something warm."
"Hot cocoa," she tried one more time.
"No, I'll stick with the tea.”
Beth shook her head, knowing he was going to be very disappointed. But, he was a grown man, and he'd done enough traveling to know better.
She looked across the table and said, "I've been thinking about things while I've been driving. I just can't come up with any reason for someone -- anyone -- to want me dead. I don't think the people behind the attack on Padma would come after me."
"I suppose it's a possibility, but, I agree with you. It's not very probable."
"Gregory and Meeker are dead. Could they have had someone we didn't know about workin
g with them?"
"Jack and I discussed this and decided that Gregory was basically a loner. And except for the three yahoos we 'interviewed' in Monte Carlo, -- who were even more clueless and incompetent that your 'ex' -- Meeker killed everyone he used before he headed back to London."
"Well, I only took classes in Washington. I can't believe someone would be angry enough to hunt me down and kill me because I beat them in a hand-to-hand bout, or got a better score on the range.
"And the only thing I did once we returned to London was to work with Ruth preparing to take Padma out.... What about a relative of the man I killed?"
"Another possibility," Drew conceded. "But, again, not very probable.”
Their waitress returned to take their orders. "I'll have the country fried steak, with mashed potatoes and corn. And, could I have the gravy on the side, please?"
"Sure, hon. And you?" she asked Drew.
"I want a cheese omelet, some sausages and an English muffin."
"Ah, Sweetheart, let me order for you, just this once." She looked from him, to the waitress, and said, "He'll have a double order of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast -- well toasted."
"Okay, hon. Does he want hash browns with that, or grits?"
"Hash browns, thank you."
"Okie dokie. I'll put these orders in and be right back with your tea."
Andrew didn't question Beth. In fact, he didn't say anything until the server returned carrying an empty mug and a small metal pot on a saucer, with a tea bag on the side. Once the waitress had moved away, he pointed at the pot and asked, "What's that?"
"That's your tea. Well, it's your tea water. You need to dunk the tea bag in it." She gestured an up and down motion. And when he just sat there, added, "Now. Right away, while the water is at least warm. And keep dunking it up and down. It will help it...make tea."
"I see."
Shaking her head, and smiling, said, "I tried to warn you. This is a chain restaurant, one step up from a McDonald's or Burger King. That's why I reordered for you. Your omelet would have been brown on the outside, and dry as dust throughout. And, you wouldn't have liked the sausages -- although, considering what you English eat for sausages, it might have been the high point of your meal -- and your muffin would be a doughy thing, sliced and then passed through the toaster conveyor belt -- once -- so it would barely be warm, let alone toasted."
"But you ordered a steak. I don't begrudge your choices. I just don't understand...exactly."
"I've not only spent the majority of my life in the US, but I was an Air Force brat and have eaten in spots that make this place look like Brennan's. Besides, I do miss some 'American' things in London."
"I see."
"You've got nothing to be jealous about. My steak is going to be a tough cut of beef, run through a tenderizer several times so I can almost manage to chew it, dipped in either flour or batter, and then fried."
"If it's so awful, why did you order it?"
"Because," she answered, smiling, "It's tasty."
"I see. Well, I don't see, but you do, apparently. And that's good enough for me."
"Thank you. Your scrambled eggs won't be too bad. And I'll enjoy my country fried steak. I'll even give you a taste -- with the gravy."
"I'll think about that offer," Andrew told her, grimacing after tasting his tea. "There has to be a reason someone wants you dead, Beth. No one wanted you dead before we began dating. Or afterwards. Well, all right, there were. But Gregory and Meeker are dead."
"Well, why couldn't it be someone else wanting to get even with you. I'm sure you've made a lot of enemies throughout your career."
"I'm sure I have. But," he asked, "would they go to such effort and expense, and be willing to kill so many people to get even with me by killing you?"
"Hmmm," she said, sipping on her coffee. "It does seem a bit extreme when you put it like that."
"Think carefully, Beth. Isn't there anyone you can think of who might have a grudge against you?"
"The only person who's been angry with me is Tom. And he wouldn't do this. He doesn't want to kill me. If anything, he wants me back. Besides, you saw how he reacted when Father and I shot Gregory and Meeker. He doesn't have the stomach for murder. Blood makes him ill."
"But the victims weren't shot. They were strangled. That would be bloodless. And he's strong enough."
"Drew, think of what you're saying. First of all, he doesn't want me dead. Secondly, he wouldn't spend all that money to follow me halfway around the world, stalking me -- even if he happened to be in London when I bolted. Thirdly, he'd know whether it was me or not. And, lastly, he couldn't do it. It takes a long time to strangle someone with your bare hands. Even if he was willing to do such hard, physical labor, he doesn't have the stomach for it -- or the nerve."
"You're right, of course."
The waitress brought their food. Andrew's eggs didn't look too bad, the bacon wasn't over cooked, and the toast was golden and well-buttered. Beth smiled as the golden brown, crispy-fried steak was set in front of her, along with her mashed potatoes, corn, and a bowl of white gravy. The server topped off Beth's coffee and left.
"That doesn't look like gravy," Andrew said, as he the dipped the tines tips of his fork into the pale, congealed goop, and then into his mouth. "Beth, it's... it doesn't taste like much."
"That's because it's basically just a white sauce -- a simple, béchamel sauce. Real 'country gravy' has some loose, cooked sausage in it, as well. It's what they put over biscuits... You've never seen or heard of that?"
"I don't think so. But, you want that? I mean we can get you something else"
"It's fine. It will be hot and filling, and most of all, comforting. But, we need to eat and get back on the road."
"All right," he agreed. He crunched down half a piece of bacon, and then pointing at her with the bottom half of the piece, continued on, "I can't think of why anyone would be after you -- just because you're you. So, you must know something you don't know you know.
"You must have seen or heard something without realizing its importance. So, can you think of overhearing anything -- maybe in a restaurant, or when you and Sarah went shopping for baby things?"
"No, Drew. Sarah and Jen were with me the entire time. And, no one is after them. I'm pretty sure that I was the only 'spy' at Catwalk Baby, and other shops on West Brompton Road where we were nursery and baby shopping. Besides, Sarah's very careful. She is extremely observant -- about where she is and who's around her. Even Jen's become more 'aware' since their little adventure.
"But the only places we went out to once we found out you were pregnant were your Father's or Richard's. And, there weren't any strangers there -- at least not that I can remember. And then I was in the hospital, until I was at home. And then I went back to work -- in an inner room of Sir Anthony's office. What could I have seen or heard?"
"I don't know. But the thing is a serial killer might choose a certain body type, or someone with similar hair and/or eyes as their prey. However, they don't usually travel across several continents on their sprees. Especially, following the exact route you're traveling."
"What about a hospital worker? Did you antagonize anyone while you were staying with me?"
"No. I didn't even have to exert pressure on the doctor to stay with you. Your father and Sir Anthony did that. I was extremely well behaved...except for Nurse Ratchet."
"Who?"
"Oh that officious bit... I mean, that disagreeable nurse. You remember the one I mean -- she squeezed that cold gel-stuff on your tummy, when you had the ultrasound right before they released you from the hospital."
Beth let out a long sigh, and pointed out, "Drew, that was six months ago. And, she's a nurse. She might be obnoxious, but I doubt she's a danger to society at large -- just to get even with us for 'not appreciating' her."
"True," Andrew agreed. "Still, the fact is at least one person followed you across the English Channel, to Paris, on to Canada, and then the United States. W
e know of six bodies -- seven, if you count the prostitute in New Orleans."
"Tell me about these bodies," Beth said, as she ate the last bite of steak and gravy.
"At first, we didn't put things together. Fitz noticed that bodies had been found in a Ladies Room at Pancras International Station, and another in Orly Airport. Later, Jack read that more bodies had been found at the Montreal Airport, the train station in Buffalo, and the Port Authority in New York City. And then we heard about a sixth body in the Toronto airport.
"Each woman was found, manually strangled and left in a stall in a Ladies Room. Except for the woman in New Orleans. She was strangled with her...ah...your...purse strap and dumped in Lake Pontchartrain. Their money was left in their handbags, and their jewelry was left on their bodies. So, clearly, the motive wasn't robbery. It was murder -- plain and simple."
"Which brings us around again full circle to why?" Beth said with a sigh.
"I'm afraid so." Andrew took one last swallow of his tea -- such as it was -- and said, "Let's get out of here. We aren't getting any closer to figuring this out, or to Washington, D.C. sitting here."
Chapter Thirty-Nine
"All right," Drew said, as they got back into the car, "let's go over everything again." He eased himself into the car and let Beth fasten his seatbelt, stuff pillows around him and then cover him with the afghan. "You do realize," he told her, frowning, "this makes me feel like an old man."
"Once we get that bullet out of you you'll be fine." She slammed his car door, went around, and slid into the driver's seat. "Okay, where were we?"
"You got out of the hospital..."
"The first time, I went home for a week or so. And, the only place we went was to have dinner at Richard's or Father's. I can't even remember going to a restaurant. Well, I guess we did eat out once or twice, while you were out of town, but it was only the neighborhood pub. And, it seems like we ate a lot of Chinese take-out."
Duty With Honor Book Five: An Unexpected Pause Page 23
