“Are you Tommy?”
“Uh, yeah.” Tommy shook the image from his mind.
“Have you seen a young girl named Heaven? She is missing, and may be hurt.”
“This is not the football captain?” Tommy dared to grasp the slim hope it wasn’t a hoax after all. Maybe she was real. Maybe it hadn’t been a trick.
Tommy gazed at Heaven as she stood in the doorway. Her face had gone frightfully pale. God, he didn’t want to go to jail. His dad would have his ass.
He could run. He would take her, and call a taxi. They could get disguises and find a small house deep in suburbia and live their lives in peace. That is, until he turned the TV on after working at his blue-collar job all day and watch in horror as his face was broadcast on the nation’s top ten most wanted show.
“I’m not the football captain.” Harmon replied. “I’m a musician. Do you know where she is?”
“Yes, sir.” He knew he must tell the truth, it was the right thing to do. “I know where she is.”
“Where is she?”
“I won’t tell you. Not until you tell me what happened.”
“There’s no time, Tommy. I insist you tell me where she is. You and I both know she is hurt.”
“Did you hit her?”
“No. She climbed a tree, jumped over a ten foot wall and fell. Now tell me where the hell she is!”
Tommy winced. He could feel the power of the man creeping through the phone line. He was suddenly convinced he didn’t want to be on the wrong side of him.
“She is here, Mr. Steele, and she’s hurt. Well, she was hurt.” The boy gazed at his jeans once more and breathed a sigh of relief. They’d morphed back into the faded blue denim they once were. He wouldn’t have to worry about his mug shot being in every post office across the country.
“What is your address?”
Tommy gave him the address and careful driving directions, even though his home was right around the corner. He didn’t want to go to jail. They would certainly throw away the key for this.
“Tommy, listen to me carefully. Don’t tell Heaven we’re coming. I don’t want her to disappear again before we get there. “
“I won’t.” He replied. “Am I going to go to jail?”
“No. You did the right thing by telling me the truth.” Harmon replied.
The phone went silent in Tommy’s hand.
* * *
The dark limousine slowly rolled to a stop in front of Tommy’s house.
Harmon lowered the heavily tinted window, and studied the mansion Heaven had somehow managed to find her way to.
The estate sported a meticulously managed landscape. The multi-level lawn was scattered with trees, which also lined each side of the cobblestone driveway.
He’d called Tommy during the short trip. The teenager reassured him Heaven was still there, and had not run away again. The boy sounded exhausted. He explained he’d been up all night, wondering what to do about the injured girl. He confided he’d asked her if she wanted to go home, and her refusal to tell him where she came from.
Feeling a bit more comfortable about Harmon, Tommy enlightened him on how terribly swollen Heaven’s ankle was. Hesitatingly, he added the swelling was completely gone by morning, but along with it a serious cut had also disappeared.
Harmon watched Bice and Hawk walk up the front steps. He could only hope Tommy hadn’t seen too much. He’d reassured Tommy on the phone he wasn’t loosing his mind, and was probably terribly tired and stressed. He suggested to the boy the possibility the wound never existed.
Tommy was a good and honest teenager. He’d have a new car delivered to his home right away, in return for bravely finding Heaven in the woods. She could have easily met with foul play or stumbled into the street and been struck by a passing vehicle. He shuddered at the thought.
* * *
“Follow me.” Tommy motioned to Bice. “She was ready to leave, but I talked her into staying a few minutes longer. She’s lying on the couch.”
He led him down the entryway, turned a corner and walked across the living room to the couch in the center. Apparently, Heaven had nodded off.
“Heaven?” Tommy whispered to the sleeping girl. “Wake up, Bice is here.”
Bice gazed at Heaven. His breath caught in his throat. She looked like she’d fallen into hell itself. She was covered with scratches, her hair was entangled in various types of weeds and her wrist appeared swollen. There was dried blood on her knee, but no wound was visible from his position.
“Heaven, it’s me, Bice. Wake up.”
Her aquamarine eyes flashed open. A look of disdain darkened her face as she slowly recognized him. She pulled the pillow from under her head and threw it at him.
He caught the pillow and tossed it aside. “Take it easy, Heaven.”
She scowled at him. “Get away from me. I am nothing but a freak to you. I hate all of you.”
He ignored her sarcasm. “We have to get you out of here. I’ll ask Hawk to carry you to the car, you don’t like you feel like walking.”
She gazed at him, tears filling her eyes. “I hurt all over. My ankle seems better, but now my entire body hurts. I did a stupid thing last night.”
“I’m sad to hear this, Heaven.” He fought the urge to give her a well-deserved tongue lashing. He knew he must bite his tongue, no matter how hard it might prove. She looked terrible, and he wouldn’t pour salt on the wound. He attempted a feeble smile. “We’re going to get you fixed up right away.”
Bice motioned to the lumbering bodyguard. Hawk lifted Heaven up without a word, and briskly carried her out the front door to the waiting car.
Tommy followed behind, watching as the burly man laid her across the back seat. “Who are you people?”
“I’m Bice, and this is Hawk, Harmon’s bodyguard.”
“Tommy?” Harmon emerged from the far side of the car. “Thank you again for all you’ve done for Heaven. Here’s your cell phone.”
Tommy gazed at the charismatic man before him. He’d never paid much attention to the looks of the same sex. But this man had an aura and majesty about him that could light up a concert hall. He’d heard the name before, but couldn’t remembered his music. He probably sang songs from an era well before he’d been born.
Tommy stared at the phone in his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Steele.”
“No,” Harmon replied, “thank you for all you’ve done. I’ll be in touch. For now, it looks like we’ll be headed to the hospital to make sure Heaven didn’t break any bones.”
Tommy watched as the three men slipped back into the long luxury car. They’d only been in his driveway for seconds. He never had a chance to ask about the beautiful girl in the back seat. He suddenly wanted to know everything about her. Where she went to school, her favorite sports and hobbies and foods and well, everything.
But as always the oh-so familiar black fog of loneliness crept into his mind as he watched the dark car speed away. It was pointless, he was a nobody. Even if she went to his school, she probably already knew he was the campus geek. She’d never take a second look his way. By morning, she’d probably have forgotten about him.
Tommy watched as Harmon waved at him once more, finally disappearing behind the blackened window.
He suddenly felt alone. Very, very alone.
* * *
Chapter Fifteen
Heaven gazed out the window of the enormous car.
The morning had gone from a vivid blue, to a dull dreary grey. Dots of rain dappled the darkend windows. The gloom outside seemed to match the gloom she felt inside.
“Heaven,” Harmon interrupted her thoughts, “I want to talk to you about last night.”
She gazed at the handsome musician, already knowing what was coming. The Great Lecture. Insurmountable Great Lectures followed her back at the children’s home. Seemed nun after nun had one issue or another with her. No matter how she’d tried to be the wallflower, to go unnoticed by cowering in the gloomy corners on the play
ground, they seemed to always seek her out. As Harmon had.
The blasted hurricane was the reason she was stateside. The fragrant island winds were now a distant memory in the course of a few weeks. She had nothing to say to him. She turned away and stared out the window once more.
Harmon ignored her distant demeanor. “Heaven, listen to me. First, we’re taking you to the hospital to have you checked out. You had a terrible fall last night.”
She snapped her head toward him. “What do you care, Harmon? Why must my life be your choice? Why didn’t you leave me on the island?”
“You know this. The hurricane.”
“There was more, and you know it.”
He sighed. He was growing very, very weary. Maybe Bice was right all along. He’d made a go of it, yet now he was in the position where he could say he’d made an honest attempt to once and for all clear his conscience.
Now, he was dealing with a runaway. He was a musician, not a ready-made dad. The attorney’s he hired had gone over this with him. He’d also met with a counselor before the guardianship could be finalized.
He was honest with her and from the bottom of his heart, explained to the therapist his nagging guilt over the years how his actions resulted in Heaven winding up in the orphanage.
He couldn’t move on from that day on the beach. No resolution came as the months ebbed into years. He never mentioned Heaven’s strange eyes to the therapist and the odd connection he couldn’t sweep away. The woman might declare him mad.
Heaven was a missing puzzle piece to something. What, he didn’t know. He wouldn’t force her to stay at the estate. He couldn’t. If she refused, he’d be left with no choice but to return her to the children’s home until she became of age.
“We’re here.” Bice interrupted his thoughts. “Let’s get her checked out. Afterward, you two can discuss this when we’re back at the estate.”
Harmon watched as Heaven continued to gaze forlornly out the window. He stole a glance at Bice. He seriously didn’t know what he’d do without his assistant. The man knew exactly when and where to step in, and take over.
* * *
They sat quietly in the waiting room, watching the children on the floor play with plastic cars, and building blocks. People came and went, babies wailed, stretchers were pushed down the halls carrying those too ill to walk.
Heaven could only stare at the sick and the ill, unable to utter a word. Her heart was breaking for them, as they struggled to heal from their unknown ailments. She wanted to help each and every person who came through the doors.
“Heaven?” A nurse from the reception area called to the waiting crowd.
Harmon nudged her. “Come on, they’re ready for you.” He held his breath, as they followed the nurse down the hall into another waiting room. He suddenly felt a peculiar, sickening feeling. A sort of premonition something was going to happen any moment. He glanced at Bice. His assistant walked quietly a step behind, seemingly unaware of anything around him. The man looked like he needed a drink.
He gazed stonily at Heaven. “Lets go, and try to stay out of trouble today.”
“I will, I promise.” She replied.
* * *
Dr. Killmore studied the x-rays which belonged to the odd girl with strange eyes.
The handsome physician suddenly felt old. Although only forty-five, he now sported a touch of grey at his temples, which stood in stark contrast against his ebony hair. Unable to stand it a moment longer, he finally ripped his tattered tie from his neck and slug it across his office.
He gazed at the clock. He’d promised his son he’d be home by now. But, it didn’t happen. The moment he stepped from the plane, the emergency department called him and asked for his immediate presence in the trauma unit.
He was horrified to find his patient to be his son’s best friend, and his only friend, Ben. The boy had been in a tragic car accident the night before, coming home from a party. He didn’t yet know the details, but the teenager was in a coma, and would soon be transferred to the intensive care unit.
The trauma team called him for good reason. It was all carefully planned. It wasn’t so much they needed him to save the boy’s face, but he’d also found himself in the undesired position of being the bearer of bad news to Tommy.
His son and Ben practically grew up in the hospital, and followed him around as he worked his evening rounds. The entire staff knew the boys.
He’d worked carefully over Ben’s face the next two hours, trying to bring back his badly damaged features, until more extensive reconstructive surgeries could be scheduled. He’d sewn the wounds closed as best as he could.
As he was about to leave, the patient with the odd blue eyes arrived. As tired as he was, he agreed to see her even though she wasn’t a plastic surgery patient.
He’d flexed Heaven’s wrist during the examination. She cried out in pain, and grabbed his tie. She was quick as a snake and before he could inhale what he knew would certainly be his last breath, she twisted his neckpiece around her good hand and yanked it tight. She’d literally tried to wring his neck.
Her guardians were forced to pry his neckpiece from her, as she seethed in agony. He had no choice but to order x-rays on the sore wrist.
He shook his thoughts away, and peered once again at the X-rays. The damage to her wrist was extensive, and many tiny bones were shattered.
He called the trauma room and ordered a cast applied. The girl was lucky. A few more broken bones, she would’ve required surgery. After a final X-ray, she would be good to go home. Then, he could finally go home.
He stifled a yawn and checked his watch again. The final X-ray should arrive any moment. It’d been a very strange ordeal. Even stranger, were her guardians. They’d stood silently staring at the lovely girl while he examined her injuries, but in an almost fearful way.
He gingerly touched the welts around his neck. In nearly twenty years of practice, he’d been bitten, kicked, and called many a choice name, but not ever had a patient attempted to wring his neck with his own tie.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. It was quickly followed by a young physician. The man plopped down the new set of x-rays in front of him.
“The final X-rays.”
“Thank you.”
But it was too late. The man was already breezing out the door as quickly as he’d entered. Only a slight whiff of his faded after shave was left behind. And the manila envelope in front of him.
He placed the new X-ray on the lighted pane on the wall, and dimmed the room lights. The cast had been applied, the last film taken. He only needed a moment to check the damaged wrist once more, and soon he’d be on his way home.
Although the arm and wrist on the x-ray were exactly the same size as the original, it was obvious radiology had brought him the wrong films. The newest pictures showed a perfectly normal arm encased in a new cast. There were no breaks, no fractures and certainly no residual swelling. There was no need for a cast on this patient.
Confused, he compared the first set of films against the final films. There must be another patient in the emergency department who’d also broken his or her wrist. But that didn’t make sense. No physician in his right mind would order a cast applied to a non-fractured limb.
He grumbled. He was ready to call it a day, and now would have to stay late waiting for the correct x-rays to be sent up. Something was definitely wrong. He’d have to sort whatever it was out quickly. Later, he’d find the physician who’d applied the cast to the incorrect patient, and tell him a thing or two.
He lifted the phone to call Bice and Harmon to go over the x-rays. Next, a call to Tommy would be in order.
He sighed in disdain. The way things were looking, he wouldn’t be home until late.
* * *
“Mr. Harmon, Mr. Bice, come with me please.” The nurse smiled as she breezed into the waiting area.
“What about Heaven?” Bice gazed at the girl, who was buried within the pages of a glossy
fashion magazine.
“She’ll be fine, it’ll only take a moment. Dr Killmore wants to show you her X-rays.”
“You don’t know Heaven.” Harmon muttered, as he grudgingly followed the nurse out the door.
* * *
Heaven stared at the closed door.
She’d promised Harmon she wouldn’t get into trouble today. However, her promise might prove difficult to keep. She was growing bored and restless. She hoped the men would be back soon, she couldn’t wait to get out of this sad place.
She tossed the magazine aside, and wandered around the room opening drawers and cabinets, rummaging through the contents of each. She spotted a small black camera high on the wall. She walked toward it, and gazed deep into the dark lens. A tiny red light glowed from below, reminding her of the cameras back on the estate.
She remembered the lipstick in her pocket. She’d found it in her bathroom the night before, tucked away neatly in a forgotten case of various shimmering powders and shadows. She pulled the only chair in the tiny room directly under the camera, and stood on it. She stared into the black lens, and carefully pulled the lipstick from her pocket.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a piercing cry from the hallway. A terrible, pitiful, heartbreaking wail. She leapt from the chair, tiptoed to the door and peeked into the busy corridor.
A small boy, perhaps three years old, was whisked by on a stretcher. His body lay broken and silent. Unseeing ebony eyes were surrounded by sunken, pallid cheeks. His mother wailed alongside the stretcher, as the nurses and doctors rushed the long bed into the room next to hers. The wailing continued behind the closed door.
She pressed her ear against the thin wall, straining to hear the muffled voices.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Martinez, there is nothing we can do…”
The invisible woman wailed louder, begging for mercy to the heavens above for the Lord to take her, not her child.
“We will leave you to tell him goodbye.” A faceless voice murmured.
The Girl With Aquamarine Eyes Page 16
