Ripped Apart

by Miriam Minger

  The maid discovered the bodies and called 911…horrific crime scene…body parts found throughout the house…no leads or known suspects at this time…the victims buried their son Ramon only two weeks ago…terrible blow to friends, family and the community.

  “Maybe they pissed off one of their clients. You know what everyone says about attorneys.”

  Clare felt like she’d been doused in cold water. She glanced at Irene in disbelief but her friend simply shrugged.

  “It happens, Clare. Who knows?”

  “What I know is those poor people are gone—that whole family is gone!” Clare grabbed the remote control from the table and clicked off the TV. “It’s horrible, the whole thing! Everything they suffered, their little boy dying and now…“Her voice caught and tears stung her eyes, confirming that she’d become an emotional wreck or the grisly news was simply too much to absorb, or both. She got up and moved to the front door. “Irene, I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot to do and then I just want to go to bed.”

  “Okay, okay, but I told you it wasn’t something you wanted to hear about.” Looking hurt, Irene went to the door but stopped in front of Clare. “It’s not your fault, you know, what happened to those people. Just because Tyler got a heart transplant at the same time that their kid—”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

  Clare felt bad for cutting off Irene, but she needed to be alone. They exchanged a quick hug and then Irene was gone without another word. Clare shut the door and rested her head against the doorjamb. She wasn’t surprised her thoughts leapt to the Garzas, or that she’d become so upset when she heard about their murder.

  She hadn’t known them. The doctors had said nothing about the identity of the heart donor in relation to the hospital mix-up splashed all over the news, and she hadn’t asked. Yet something deep inside told her if not for the Garza family, her son wouldn’t be alive…

  “That’s it, this is all too much.” Feeling suddenly more emotionally spent and weary than she had in weeks, Clare threw the deadbolt, switched off the light in the living room and headed for her bedroom.

  The laundry and mail would have to wait. She didn’t bother to change into a sleep shirt or even kick off her shoes, but sank onto the bed fully dressed and drew the comforter up to her shoulders. She felt as if her body was melting into the mattress, her head as heavy as a rock on the pillow.

  It occurred to her that she should have switched on the porch light but she was just too bone-tired to get up. She would have to thank that policeman for checking on her house. She’d ask Irene more about that tomorrow, and see if her friend had managed to get his name.

  It occurred to her, too, that she hadn’t called the hospital yet to check on Tyler but she doubted she’d make any sense on the phone. Clare rolled over but she was fast asleep before she touched the handset.

  * * *

  “Ms. Carson? Clare Carson?”

  Clare fumbled groggily with the phone. The woman’s anxious voice in her ear sounded like a screech. “Yes, this is Clare.“

  “It’s Dr. Laura Holland from the Pediatric Acute Care Unit. We need you to come to the hospital as soon as you can.”

  “What’s happened? How’s Tyler?” Sitting bolt upright in the bed, Clare clutched the phone. Her heart beat wildly as the woman didn’t answer right away but spoke to someone in the background. Clare glanced at the digital clock that read eleven twenty p.m.—a little over an hour since she’d fallen asleep—and threw aside the comforter. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

  “Ms. Carson, I’m Bill Maher, chief night security officer at Universal Hospital.”

  “What’s going on? How’s Tyler—”

  “Your son is missing, ma’am.”

  Clare thought she was hearing things and she stood up from the bed. “What do you mean, missing?”

  “An x-ray tech came to the floor during the shift change at eleven—said Dr. Holland had requested an immediate CAT scan and the tech had come with a wheelchair to take the boy downstairs. One of the nurses called x-ray ten minutes ago to check on Tyler, but no one there had seen him or knew anything about any CAT scan.”

  “But I just spoke to Dr. Holland. What does she say?”

  “She made no such request, Ms. Carson. My personnel are searching all over the hospital, and I’ve notified the police—”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Clare didn’t wait for the man’s reply. She hung up the phone and bolted from the room, disbelief and rising panic making it hard for her to breathe. One thought burned in her mind as she grabbed her handbag and headed for the back door.

  Goddamn you, Billy.

  If her ex-husband had decided to make good on his threat to take Tyler from the hospital, she would kill him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Ms. Carson, we need to ask you some questions,” said one of the two young patrolmen who’d met her at the elevator.

  Sinking into a plastic chair, Clare nodded numbly. She glanced past the police officers to some of the hospital staff clustered down the hallway, an anxious huddle of doctors, nurses and security personnel. Usually around midnight the Pediatric Acute Care Unit was quiet and calm, and even during an emergency there had always been a reassuring sense of order and control.

  Not tonight. Clare had known in a heartbeat that Tyler was still missing when she’d stepped onto the floor and seen the staff’s concerned expressions and the San Antonio police waiting for her. She glanced up at the patrolman who took a seat beside her, the sick feeling in her stomach growing worse.

  “Just so you know, Ms. Carson, we’ve set up a quadrant around the hospital,” he explained to her, “and the interior has been thoroughly searched. The tapes from the security cameras are being examined as we speak. Your son was taken from his room by an unknown party claiming to be an x-ray tech, so if you have any ideas who might have—”

  “My ex-husband threatened to take him.”

  “Your ex-husband’s name, ma’am?”

  “Billy Eugene Carson. I have a protective order, but he showed up here during Tyler’s surgery two weeks ago. He’d been drinking and he threatened to take Tyler from the hospital.”

  “Okay, we’ll need Mr. Carson’s address, ma’am, and a physical description of both your ex-husband and your son.”

  Clare heard herself as if from a great distance answering the officer’s clipped questions, a nightmare unfolding around her that nonetheless held a glimmer of hope when she described Billy’s vehicle.

  His Ford 250 pick-up was fire engine red. Surely the police would easily spot the vehicle, and the diesel engine made enough noise to wake the dead. Leave it to Billy to drive a truck as massive as his ego, but this time she prayed she’d end up being grateful for it. She listened silently as the police officer radioed out the information she’d given him. The other patrolman excused himself to go talk further with the hospital staff.

  “Okay, that’s about all we can do here right now.” The police officer, still as somber as during his questions, offered Clare his hand to help her to stand. “I know it’s late, Ms. Carson, but we need to get a statement from you. You can accompany me downtown, or drive there yourself if you’re feeling up to it.”

  “I’ll drive.”

  Clare came close to doubting her decision in the elevator. The descent to the first floor made her queasy and her face felt flushed. She was grateful the police officer wasn’t one for small talk. She kept her eyes straight ahead as they made their way down the corridor to the front entrance.

  “I’m in that lot over there. Red Chevy Blazer.” She pointed across the street and the patrolman nodded.

  “I’ll wait for you by the exit, Ms. Carson. I’ll have the lights on so it’ll be a quick drive. Stay close behind me and keep going, even through the stoplights.”

  Everything seemed so clinical, so matter-of-fact, while inside Clare felt like she was dying. The impact of what had happened was hitting her harder by the moment. “If you hear anything ab
out Tyler on your radio—”

  “I’ll pull over and let you know. I’m sure we’ll have more information for you by the time we get to the station.”

  Several police cars were parked just outside the hospital entrance, and the patrolman headed for the nearest one without another word. As he got into his vehicle and switched on the flashing lights, Clare cut across a grassy median to the parking lot.

  She’d broken every speed record in the book racing to the hospital. She had shaved almost ten minutes off a usually twenty-minute plus journey, but it hadn’t done her any good.

  Tyler was still missing. The chilling reality made her feel again like she might become sick in the parking lot.

  “Damn you, Billy. If anything happens to our son…” Her chest tightened painfully. Clare fumbled in her handbag for the car keys but she couldn’t find them.

  She paused to dig in earnest, wondering if she’d left them on the chair in the hospital when she heard the squeal of car tires and the roar of an accelerating engine. She looked up in surprise at the silver sedan heading straight for her. High beams blinded her. For an instant her feet were glued to the ground.

  “Oh, God!” Clare twisted out of the way as the sedan sped past her, the front right fender brushing her hip. Her breath stuck in her throat. Her heart raced. She stared in disbelief at the sedan’s rear lights. The vehicle came to a stop at the tollbooth as if nothing had happened, and then turned out of the parking lot.

  Was that guy nuts? Hadn’t he seen her? If she hadn’t moved so quickly, she would have been mowed down right there outside the hospital.

  Clare made sure no other cars were coming as she dug in her handbag and retrieved her keys. Her legs were shaky as she hurried to her Blazer and got inside, and she wondered if the police officer had witnessed her near miss. She guessed not. He was waiting for Clare at the exit leading to the main road, just as he’d said.

  The patrolman stepped on the gas as soon as Clare pulled up behind him. The two of them turned onto the main road and barely slowed down as they approached an intersection where the traffic light glowed red. Clare held her breath but she pressed her foot on the accelerator pedal and kept going just as she’d been instructed.

  As they sped through the intersection, she noticed through her rearview mirror that a silver Ford Taurus had pulled over to the curb to get out of their way. She wondered if it was the same vehicle that almost ran her down.

  Jerk! He could have killed her. She wanted to blast her horn at him but her attention was diverted as the police officer switched lanes.

  When Clare glanced an instant later in the rearview mirror, the Taurus was gone.

  * * *

  “We’ve conducted a search of your ex-husband’s house but he wasn’t there, Ms. Carson. There’s no report yet of his truck being seen either, but the media and our substations have been notified along with the Highway Patrol. Billy Carson appears to be our prime suspect, unless you know of anyone else—”

  “No, there’s no one,” Clare said to Jorge Garcia, the Night Utility detective. “Who would do such a thing? Who would take a child recovering from a heart transplant from the hospital? Only Billy…” Clare fell silent and stared across the desk at the detective, who turned back to his computer screen and the statement he was typing.

  “We’ll be done shortly. Would you like some coffee?”

  Clare shook her head. She wanted to finish the statement, wanted to get out of this chair and out of this cramped office, wanted nothing more than to pace a hallway because she didn’t know what else to do with herself.

  No Billy, no Tyler, no red pick-up. When would someone shake her awake from this nightmare?

  “A detective who handles kidnappings will take over the case at 7:30 a.m., Detective Doug McKain. Until then I’ll be coordinating things at headquarters. You might want to head home for now and get a few hours’ rest, but I’ll call you if anything comes up.”

  Home? Rest? Clare stared incredulously at Detective Garcia as if he’d spoken a foreign language, but he seemed oblivious to her reaction as he finished typing and then printed out the statement and handed her a copy.

  “Read it over, ma’am, and then sign here.”

  Clare glanced over the statement but the words swam in front of her eyes. So did the most recent school photo of Tyler she’d retrieved from her wallet for the detective, a picture taken a few weeks before Tyler had been struck with the virus. The image usually made her smile because he was grinning from ear-to-ear as if the photographer had told some silly joke.

  Except she wasn’t smiling. A lump growing in her throat, she scrawled a hasty signature and rose from the chair. “Is there somewhere I can wait? For any word of my son, I mean. At least if I stay here I might not feel so useless.”

  “We’re pretty busy tonight but you’re welcome to sit out in the hall. It’s not too comfortable, though.”

  Clare was already out of the office and heading for the exit to the main hallway, the last thing on her mind her own comfort.

  What about Tyler? What about his comfort? Was he trying to sleep in the truck while her miserable son-of-a-bitch ex-husband made his way along bumpy back roads to God-knows-where? What about Tyler’s medications? What if he started a fever? What if something went terribly wrong and they were miles and miles from the nearest hospital?

  Sudden panic overwhelmed Clare. She rushed blindly down the hall, her stomach pitching and her eyes burning. She hadn’t allowed herself to succumb to fear until now, and she barely made it to the ladies’ room and into the nearest stall before she began to vomit.

  Tears streaming down her face, she doubled over and retched again and again, feeling as if her body was wringing itself dry. She finally sank to her knees in front of the toilet. Silent sobs shook her shoulders.

  There had to be something she could do to help Tyler. Something, anything…

  Clare wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and hauled herself shakily to her feet. She stood there a moment until she was certain her wobbly knees would carry her. Then she went to the sink and splashed cold water on her face and combed her fingers through her hair with a brief glance in the mirror.

  She looked like hell, older than her thirty-four years, her green eyes haunted, but she couldn’t care less. All that mattered was that she get herself back out into that hall and wait for word on Tyler. It was a small thing, but it wouldn’t help her son to have her falling apart.

  The police would find Tyler soon and then he’d be returned safely to Universal Hospital. She’d caved in tonight to her fears, the only time she’d allow herself. She refused from that moment to think of any other outcome.

  * * *

  “What the fuck do you mean the last target has eluded you?” Eduardo gripped the phone, his other hand squeezing his mistress Luisa’s ample breast.

  Her sharp intake of pleasure momentarily distracted him from Xavier’s cryptic explanation of a missed opportunity in the Universal Hospital parking lot, and Eduardo had to force himself to focus. “So she hasn’t stepped outside the police station yet. She will, give her time. Then you’ll act. Don’t call me again until it’s done.”

  Eduard threw the cell phone onto the bedside table while Luisa stared at him petulantly in the soft glow of a single candle. Her full red lips mesmerized him. He wanted nothing more than to feel them wrapping like silk around his hardening penis.

  “More champagne, Eduardo? You seem to have forgotten we’re celebrating tonight. Promise me no more business calls.”

  “No more business calls.” Eduardo watched as Luisa drew the lip of a champagne bottle from between her thighs, and she laughed when he licked the rim and then threw back his head to drink.

  Yes, they were celebrating, but not a closed business deal that he’d told her was the reason for the three-dozen blood red roses, the diamond bracelet, and a perfectly chilled bottle of Dom Perignon. A private jet headed for Monterrey with a special cargo aboard. His wife Maria would soon have
no cause to make her demented threat a reality by disclosing Eduardo’s covert business deals to Manuel Castillo.

  Her new son “Daniel” was coming home.

  Eduardo’s erection growing soft, he shoved all painful thoughts of his son from his mind and focused on Luisa. Her sultry lips loomed closer to his face as if she wanted him to kiss her, but instead he shoved his fingers through her thick black hair and forced her head down to his crotch.

  * * *

  “Is that her?”

  “Yeah, stayed here all night. Paced the hall mostly, but it looks like she might have gotten a little sleep.”

  Clare blinked, the two uniformed figures talking about her growing less blurry as she sat up in the chair. “I’m sorry, I must have dozed off.” She blinked again, recognizing Detective Garcia but not the red-haired police officer with a moustache and short clipped beard standing next to him.

  “Ms. Carson, I’m Detective Doug McKain. I believe Detective Garcia informed you that I’d be taking over your case this morning—”

  “Have you found Tyler?”

  Clare felt crushed when the two officers glanced at each other, and Detective Garcia shook his head.

  “No word yet, but Detective McKain will bring you up to date.”

  As the Night Utility detective excused himself to return to his office, Detective McKain held out a steaming cup to Clare. “Thought you might need some coffee. You’ve had a rough night.”

  “My son had the rough night, Detective. He needs to be back at the hospital.”

  She’d snapped at him, but he didn’t appear surprised.

  “We’re doing everything we can to find your son, Ms. Carson. Take the coffee and let’s get started. I’ll give you an update on the way to your house. You can get a change of clothes—”

  “What? Do I look that bad?” The words jumped out before Clare could stop them. She felt embarrassed by the detective’s matter-of-fact appraisal as she took a sip of coffee.