by Alton Gansky
Two hours. He wondered how to spend the time. Glancing at his answering machine, he saw the light was flashing. He chose to ignore it. He had turned the ringers of his telephone off so he would not be disturbed. After all, it was his day off, and any emergency could be handled by one of his deacons.
Adam rose and removed an old Bible from the shelf. It was the one he had used in college and seminary. Its corners were bent and worn, its pages soiled and covered with notes scribbled by his own hand. This Bible had become a special friend to him. Moving from the desk to an overstuffed easy chair, Adam opened the Bible at random and began to read.
AT 8:10 P.M. ADAM PARKED his blue Volkswagen Rabbit in front of the coffee shop and saw Rachel waiting near the entrance. As he opened the restaurant door, she said curtly, “You’re late.”
“I’m on church time.”
“What is church time?”
“It’s an old saying around the church—if you’re ten minutes late, then you’re five minutes early.”
“Sounds like an excuse for irresponsibility.”
“You’re probably right.” Adam had purposed not to be baited. The coffee shop was small but popular with medical people. The hostess led them to a small booth in a corner. After perusing the menus, Rachel ordered a pasta plate and Adam a hamburger from a friendly waiter.
Although he knew he was being almost too direct, Adam asked the question that had been on his mind for hours. “What happened to David?”
“I’m not free to discuss that. The patient-doctor relationship is confidential.”
“I’m his minister. I was there shortly after he was healed. All I want from you is your medical opinion about what happened to him and how it happened.”
“I wish I knew. The truth of the matter is that nobody knows.”
“Is it your job to find out?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t seem pleased with the task.”
“You’re very observant.”
“I’m in the people business. So why don’t you like it?”
“Because I’m a surgeon, not a private investigator. I spend my life healing, not chasing mystery men around.”
“Have you ever seen anything like this before?”
“No. Just what has happened at the hospital.”
“What about the other healings?”
“What other healings?”
Adam reached into his pocket, pulled out several sheets of paper, then handed them to Rachel. She looked at the photocopied newspaper articles briefly and then handed them back.
“So?” she asked.
“What can you tell me about these? What happened to the Langfords? What happened to Lisa Hailey?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t you think the answer may rest with them?”
“No more than the answer rests with the Loraynes,” she said tersely.
Adam realized he had been pushing a little too hard. “I’m sorry. I must be more frustrated by this than I realized.”
The conversation paused when the waiter appeared with their food. “Why does this bother you so much?” Rachel asked.
“I’m not sure. And I don’t know if the word bothered is the right term. Concern is more like it.”
“I would think Mr. Lorayne’s sudden recovery would please you.”
“It does. It’s just that things don’t fit. It’s not the healing that concerns me; it’s the way it took place. A man boldly enters and leaves the ICU unnoticed and David is healed—not just from an anesthesia-induced coma, but even of his surgery. Prior to that a severely burned girl wakes up with new skin. Again no one knows how. Bill Langford was healed of inoperable cancer. And then there are the occurrences at the other hospitals.”
Rachel stopped mid-bite. “What other hospitals?”
Adam reached into his coat pocket, this time removing several more sheets of paper. “I wondered if you knew about these. I did a little research at the library today, and here’s what I came up with.” He handed her the paper. “As you can see, there have been reports of similar events in San Francisco, Fresno, and Los Angeles. It forms a pattern. Our mystery man has been working his way south for the last two years.”
“Why haven’t we heard about it before?”
“Simple. Look at the press coverage. There aren’t more than ten paragraphs for the whole time. It appears that no one took the reports seriously.”
Rachel looked at the copies of the articles and then ran her eyes down the handwritten list that Adam had prepared. The paper was divided into columns, one each for date, place, the newspaper that carried the article, hospital, name of patient and ailment from which they recovered unexpectedly. She was puzzled. Why would Adam pursue this information with such fervor? Could Dr. Morgan be right? Was Adam Bridger the Healer? The thought made her uncomfortable. “So, what do you think?” he asked, as if a child searching for praise. “Well done. But what does it mean?”
“It means we have more avenues to pursue.”
“We?”
“Why not? We can help each other. You want to find this guy because you have to. I have my own reason for wanting to know what’s going on.”
“And just what are your reasons?” Rachel raised an eyebrow. “What motivates you?”
“That’s hard to say. Making the pieces fit, I suppose.”
“What pieces?”
“Nothing fits. Okay, suppose there is someone who is endowed with a special ability, or maybe heretofore-unknown treatment. Why keep it secret? Why not do as many have done in the past— develop a following? A following that would provide support. Why does this person slip in and out unnoticed? What’s his goal? What’s his message?”
“Message? Who says he has to have a message?”
“History. Recent history and biblical history. In every case of healing in the Bible, there was been an accompanying message. In the Old Testament, it was to authenticate the messenger, to distinguish him from the others who might pretend to speak for God. Jesus healed out of love, but also to authenticate His claim of Messiahship. The disciples worked miracles that authenticated their message. So, why is it there is no message?”
Rachel cocked her head to one side. “What makes you think these occurrences have any spiritual connection? From my perspective, our Healer could have walked off a flying saucer somewhere to bring peace and health to mankind. Or, perhaps he’s some medical genius who is too shy to accept credit. Or, perhaps—”
“Okay, I get the idea,” Adam interrupted. “I’ll admit my intellectual bias. But then again, you have some pretty strong biases yourself.”
Rachel responded by taking another bite of pasta.
They ate in silence for a few moments. Adam struggled with Rachel’s comment. It was true that he was approaching this mystery with a biblical bias, but was that wrong?
The Bible was the sole authority for life. He had found its teachings true and sound—indeed, life-changing. The miraculous was a primary principle of biblical history and, as a student of the Bible, he would naturally apply it to this situation as he did with all others.
Adam broke the silence. “I assume you have interviewed the other families who have had similar events.”
“You mean the Langfords and the Haileys?”
Adam nodded.
“Actually, I haven’t talked to them.”
“I would think that would be one of the first things you’d do.”
“They’ve disappeared—all gone on vacation or something.”
“Let me get this right. Both the Langfords and the Haileys have left town?”
“Well, they’re never home. Their neighbors haven’t seen them. Other family members don’t know where they are. Both have had their houses broken into. That Priscilla Simms woman almost got herself killed. In fact, her boss did get killed. Didn’t you hear about it on the news?”
Adam felt the pit drop out of his stomach; his anxiety registered on his face.
“What’s the matter,
” Rachel asked. “You don’t look unwell.” Then a moment later, “You’re not thinking that . . .”
“Excuse me,” Adam said, as he rose quickly from the table. “I’ve got to find a phone.”
Within three minutes he had returned. “Come on,” he said. “We re leaving.”
SIXTEEN
Monday, March 23, 1992; 8:30 P.M.
“WILL YOU PLEASE TELL me what’s going on?” It was a command, not a request.
Adam eased the car into traffic and accelerated. The VW Rabbit’s small engine responded quickly.
“After you told me that the Langford and Hailey homes had been broken into, it occurred to me that it might not be a coincidence. So, I called the Loraynes’. There was no answer. Then I called Larry Lorayne—they were preparing a party for them—he told me they never showed. They’ve been trying to reach me all day.” Adam felt guilty about ignoring his answering machine. “The police want to talk to me.”
“So where are we going?”
“Larry Lorayne’s house. He’s going to notify the police that we are on the way.”
“Curiouser and curiouser,” Rachel said.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s a quote from Alice in Wonderland. My father used to read it to me. The more I know about this problem, the less I understand.”
Larry Lorayne was looking out the living room window when Adam and Rachel arrived. He reached the car before they had unbuckled their seat belts.
“Where have you been, Pastor?” Larry asked. “I’ve been trying to reach you for hours.”
“I’m here now, Larry,” Adam said soothingly. “Do you know Dr. Tremaine?”
“No.” Larry was still agitated.
“That’s right, you weren’t at the hospital when David was released.”
“No, I was here fixing barbecue for the family. We were going to celebrate.”
“Dr. Tremaine performed the surgery on David,” Adam said, choosing not to mention her role as investigator for the hospital.
“Pleased to meet you,” he said absently.
“Is your wife in the house?” Adam wanted to move the conversation inside.
“Yeah. Come on in.”
Eva was sitting on the couch. Adam could see her eyes were red from crying. “Hello, Pastor,” she said weakly. “Can I get you some coffee or a soda?”
“No, thank you.” Adam sat on a love seat and motioned for Rachel to join him. “This is Dr. Tremaine,” Adam said to Eva. “She performed the surgery on David.”
“Hello,” Eva said. “Would you like something to drink?”
“No, thank you.”
Larry began to pace.
“Larry, why don’t you sit down and tell me what happened?” Adam said.
“Well, it’s like this,” Larry said, sitting in a chair opposite Adam. “They were going to come over after they left the hospital. David said he wanted some real food and there was no longer any reason why he couldn’t have some. Well, I had been watering the grass out front while I was waiting for the coals to get hot, and I went out to check the sprinkler when I saw them coming down the street. Living on a cul-de-sac like we do, there’s only one direction for them to come from. Anyway, I looked down the street and saw their car. I turned to shout to Eva that they were here when I heard tires squealing. A car had come out of the driveway about ten houses down. I didn’t hear a crash like an accident or anything, so I figured it was a near miss. Then I saw this tall guy get out of the car and walk to David’s car. A couple of minutes later the car that came out of the driveway headed out, and then David’s car pulled a U-turn and followed it. I yelled at ’em to come back, but they were too far away. And that’s it, no call, nothing. Then the police called.”
“The police?” Adam felt his stomach tighten.
“Yeah, they called about two hours later saying that they found David’s car abandoned about three miles from here.”
“How did the police know to call you?” Adam asked.
“Because I gave them my number when I called them.”
“Where did they find it?”
“There’s a small elementary school nearby that’s not used anymore. They found the car in the parking lot.” Blood drained from Larry’s face. “That’s not all—they found blood on the car.”
The news shocked Adam. “Were you able to give a description of the other car to the police?” Adam asked softly.
“Just that it was a blue sedan. I couldn’t see the license number.”
“I just don’t understand, Pastor,” Eva said quietly. “How can this happen? After such a good thing like David being healed, how could such an evil thing happen?”
“I don’t know,” Adam said. “There’s little we can do but wait and pray. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but unfortunately that’s the way it is. You know I’m here if you need me.”
Adam asked that they join hands so that they might pray. Eva eagerly reached from her place on the couch and took Adam’s hand. Larry moved from the chair to the couch and sat next to his wife and took her hand. Without thinking, Adam reached for Rachel’s hand and then led them in prayer. For Rachel, it was the first time she had bowed her head in prayer since she was a child. Had it not been such an emotionally charged moment, she would have objected.
Adam’s prayer didn’t contain flowery phrases or insincere platitudes, but just the simple words of a man concerned about a friend.
The prayer touched Rachel. Adam was sincere and open, expressing fear, anxiety, and hope. She did not need her medical degree to know that the prayer had a relaxing effect on Larry and Eva.
The doorbell rang as Adam finished. A man who identified himself as a police detective was asked in.
“Hello, Detective McGinnes,” Larry said, motioning him in. “This is Pastor Adam Bridger and Dr. . . .”
“Tremaine,” Rachel said.
“I’m glad we found you, Pastor,” McGinnes stated. “I’ve got some questions for you.”
McGinnes was a pale-complexioned, thin man with dark eyes and a hairline that receded at the part. His slight build seemed incongruous with his profession.
“I’ll be happy to be of any help I can,” Adam replied.
“Of course,” McGinnes said.
“Would anyone like coffee?” Eva interrupted.
“Yes, thank you,” McGinnes replied and watched as Eva left the room. “Pastor, I understand you were one of the last ones to see David Lorayne and his family. Is that correct?”
“I was with them shortly before they left the hospital, as was Dr. Tremaine.”
“So you both were with them when left the hospital?”
“Correct.” Adam replied.
“Dr. Tremaine, just what is your involvement with the Loraynes? Are you the family doctor?”
“No,” Rachel replied. “I’m a surgeon at Kingston Memorial and I performed his surgery. I’m also doing some research for the hospital.”
“What kind of research?”
“I’m not sure you’d understand.”
McGinnes looked at Adam who shrugged. “Try me.”
Rachel seemed reluctant to answer, but then stated matter-of-factly, “I’m investigating the recent events that have occurred at the hospital.”
“Events?” McGinnes asked.
“The healings,” offered Adam.
McGinnes nodded knowingly. “Yes, there’s quite a ruckus over there—people jammed into the lobby like they are. I almost didn’t make it through.”
Eva brought a serving tray and set it on the coffee table.
“Did either of you walk out of the hospital with the family?”
“No.” Both Rachel and Adam answered simultaneously.
“What did you do after they left?”
“I had some questions for Reverend Bridger,” Rachel replied, “so we went to the doctors’ lounge and talked.”
“How long did the meeting last?”
“Less than twenty minutes,” Rachel said.
McGinnes sighed. “I had hoped that you might have seen or heard something useful.” He took his coffee and drank it in almost one swallow. Setting his cup down, he continued, “I’d like to have your home number, Dr. Tremaine, in case I have more questions. I already have the Pastor’s here—he was listed in the phone book.” Rachel hesitated, then recited her number.
“Are you aware of the burglaries?” Adam asked.
“What burglaries?”
“There have been two burglaries that may be related to this case,” Adam replied. “At the homes of the Langfords and the Haileys. Both had members of their families in Kingston Memorial when they were healed.”
“How did you find out about that?” McGinnes asked. “Actually, Dr. Tremaine discovered it.”
McGinnes turned his attention to Rachel and said, “Well?”
“As I said,” Rachel began, “I’ve been assigned to research the special events that have happened at the hospital. I attempted to interview the Langfords and the Haileys at home. They were never there. I had heard about the shooting at the Langfords’ on the news, a neighbor of the Haileys told me about the break-in at their house.”
“I hadn’t made the connection,” McGinnes said. “I’ll look into it.”
“I hear you’ve found the car,” Adam said.
“That’s correct. We found it in the parking lot of a nearby school,” McGinnes said.
“Did you find anything else?” Adam asked.
“These folks have probably told you about the blood.”
“Only that you found some.”
“Not much—just a little around the driver’s door and on the hood of the car. It looks like someone, probably the driver, resisted the abductors.”
“That would be Michael,” Larry said. “He was a scrapper as a kid.”
“We’re pretty sure it was Michael too,” McGinnes said. “The nurse who walked them to the car said that David and his wife got in the backseat. Besides, David would be in no shape to struggle anyway— with his stitches and all.”
