The Test

by Patricia Gussin

  In the library, Chan, Frank, Matt, Terry, and Carrie were already seated. Frank cleared his throat as if he were to address the Senate. “I have some phenomenal news,” he said. “I think it will come as a surprise to you, Rory and Chan, and to you, Terry. Ashley is alive,” Frank said with no more preamble.

  While Rory gasped, Frank explained about Ashley and Welton. He also informed the group that Monica, Patrick, and Cardinal Sean were on their way.

  “What took her so long?” Chan demanded. “Rory needed her and she’s too scared to show herself? That doesn’t cut it with me.”

  “Chan,” Gina said, “she was pregnant. She would have been concerned for the baby.”

  “And now she’s lost the baby.” Rory gently massaged Chan’s arm, calming him.

  “Oh, shit!” Terry jumped up, his eyes darting around the room. He repeated, “Oh, shit.”

  Gina rose and spun Terry around to face her. “Terry, such language. Why—?”

  “Why?” he shouted. “Because Conrad called me. Because of me, he knows that Ashley is headed here. I didn’t know he was persona non grata and took for granted that he’d want to be with her. He said she’d need to spend time with her family and that he’d see—God, I feel like such an idiot.”

  “Don’t worry,” Frank reassured the young man. “Dan and the private investigator are with her. Our security will keep her safe until we decide if we need to take further precautions. This is not your fault. We should have told you all. Not left anybody in the dark.”

  Rory lowered her head and smiled. “Ashley is alive. She’s coming here. I have one of my sisters back.”

  For the first time in many months, Rory felt a pang of hope. She could almost feel Ashley’s bone marrow trickling into her system, Ashley’s cells replacing her diseased ones. The process would be long and demanding and she’d be isolated from her kids for weeks to prepare for the graft. But maybe, with Ashley’s HLA match, she’d be one of the lucky ones with leukemia to see her children grow up. She’d hardly dared wish for a complete remission, but now—

  “Chan,” she said, “let’s tell the kids!”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  When Welton was honest with himself, he’d always known that it would come to this. Too much duplicity, avarice, disrespect. He had no choice. They had underestimated him, a being of superior intelligence.

  Welton had met Buzz Riley years earlier when he’d been on staff at the Menninger Clinic, and Buzz an inmate at Leavenworth. Conrad’s research in hypnosis had included a study of the criminally insane, and it had introduced him to Buzz. Buzz was one of the smartest human beings that Welton had ever met, and Buzz was completely without a sense of right and wrong. But, he was the perfect hypnosis subject. Thanks to Welton’s skill, Buzz Riley won parole long before the completion of a thirty-year sentence for homicide.

  Other than genius, Buzz and Welton had something else in common. They had both executed their fathers, Welton, opportunistically in a hospital elevator, Buzz with a baseball bat as the old man slept. And Buzz had come in handy as a mastermind and executioner of Lenore, Stanley Welton’s first wife, and Crissy.

  Welton had multiple contingency plans in place for Buzz when it came to the Parnells, but with a fortuitous stroke of fate, they were consolidating. Except for Monica—not a concern as she’d already renounced the Parnell money—all the family would be together on Longboat Key for Thanksgiving. An unexpected bonus for Welton. All were innocently gathering for the family holiday, awaiting Ashley’s return. All in one place, at one time.

  Now as Welton waited for Buzz to join him in the private terminal at Philadelphia International Airport, he checked his watch. If his plane took off as scheduled, they’d be in Sarasota at 3:10 p.m., almost two hours before Ashley was to arrive. Buzz had everything he needed in place, and Welton had no desire to know the details. Buzz had never come close to being caught, but if he were, his brain would be empty of any association with Conrad Welton. The wonders of hypnosis harnessed.

  “Dr. Welton, sorry I’m late.” A wiry guy, his gray hair in a pony tail, rushed to the doctor, the lone passenger in the departure lounge. He wore black jeans, a black long-sleeved pullover shirt, and black running shoes. “Let me get your bag, doc,” Buzz said, easily hoisting Welton’s luggage. “I ain’t got much stuff. I’ll be outta there tonight, a night on the road and back home tomorrow.”

  Welton didn’t ask his hit man where home was. A telephone number was all that connected them. And that number would be changed tomorrow.

  “Let’s get on that plane. Your name on the manifest is Bernie Reed.”

  “Same initials as mine. Cool, doc.”

  Welton planned to deepen Buzz’s hypnotic state once they settled into the small jet. He had no doubt that Buzz would perform. He had before, and would again. Longboat Key would be treated to spectacular fireworks that night.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Monica showed up at the Executive Terminal at Detroit Metropolitan Airport without makeup except for lip gloss, a ticket to anonymity. Patrick looked his casual best in chinos and a golf shirt, and the cardinal was in uniform. The starched Roman collar with the clerical black suit and crimson skullcap looked anything but casual.

  “Where does he think we’re headed?” Patrick stage-whispered into Monica’s ear as the old man walked down the aisle in front of them. “A religious service? Maybe to dedicate a basilica?”

  “Cardinal Parnell, let me help you with that,” Patrick said, taking the black valise and the slim garment bag and setting it on a vacant seat.

  “Traveling light,” Monica said, taking the seat across the aisle from the cardinal.

  “Yes, and thank you both, again,” he said.

  Monica heard the tremor in his voice, once famous for powerful orations, a voice that inspired and motivated. Monica attempted small talk, but the cardinal seemed preoccupied. Perhaps he was exhausted from the two Masses, one at dawn for the nuns and the high Mass that she’d attended. But she was eager to use this private audience to get some questions answered.

  “Cardinal Parnell,” she began reverently. “Did you know my mother well?”

  “No,” he answered, with only a blank stare.

  Monica found that strange, since the Parnell brothers had been close. Or had Paul confessed to his brother, thus the vow of secrecy?

  Finally, he said, “Your father told me that she was a very beautiful woman, Monica. She had long black hair and very dark eyes—like you. He told me that you look just like her.”

  “I do have another question, Your Eminence. When you took me to the Monroes, I was three months old. Why wait three months? Why not an immediate adoption right from the hospital?”

  His voice grew weaker. “Perhaps she wanted to keep you, but found it too difficult—a child—a career?”

  Monica felt deflated. “What kind of woman was she?” she asked, pressing the old man.

  The cardinal’s shoulders sagged and his head drooped. “Carl knew her. You should ask him. I really don’t know much. He’s the one who made the deal.”

  “Deal?”

  The old man blinked, and his eyes fluttered closed. “Ask Carl for the details if you wish. Paul always regretted not just telling Vivian about you. There was no need to arrange an adoption. Vivian was a dear woman.”

  “My parents always wondered why you, personally, arranged my adoption. Mom figured that I must have been related to a wealthy donor to the church. Still, I owe you so much.”

  As the old man’s eyelids drooped and he lowered his face into his hands, Monica pressed one more question. “Could you tell me how my birth mother died?”

  Silence. Maybe he hadn’t heard her. She was about to ask again when she saw tears trickling down the wrinkled cheeks. “So many memories,” he whispered. “She contracted AIDS and died in 1995.”

  “What got him all teary eyed?” Patrick whispered once the old man began to snore lightly.

  “The Parnell family is totally dysfuncti
onal,” she said. “Thank God, I’m a Monroe.”

  The tarmac serving private flights at the Sarasota airport was empty when the Gulfstream landed, and Monica and Patrick each took one of Cardinal Parnell’s elbows as they headed toward the terminal.

  “No media,” Monica remarked to Patrick as she glanced about. “That’s a relief.”

  “No one knows we’re here,” Patrick said. “Until this morning, we didn’t even know we would be here.”

  “Uh-oh,” Monica whispered, as a man emerged from the terminal and headed toward them.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Rory had settled on the sofa in the family room as Gina prepared a nebulizer treatment for Tyler.

  “Mom, I’m okay.” Tyler wheezed. “It wasn’t the dogs’ fault.”

  “It’s nobody’s fault,” Rory said. “We’re lucky Aunt Gina’s here to give you a treatment. I guess those shots haven’t started to work yet. You’re going to have to stay away from those dogs.”

  Gina was measuring the proper dose of Ventolin. “Should we call Chan?” she asked.

  “We can let him know,” Rory said, “but it’s okay to repeat the Ventolin three times.”

  “Mrs. Stevens,” Leo Tally stood at the entrance to the room, wringing his large, dark hands. “I hate to interrupt. But it’s the twins, ma’am.”

  “Chip and Charlie?”

  “Yes, ma’am. The kids have been comin’ and goin’ like normal from the pool all afternoon. But I haven’t seen Chip or Charlie for an hour. They were horsing around the pool when the dogs started barking something fierce.” He paused for a breath. “The boys said they were going out to investigate. I told them not to go beyond the fence. Not to go down to the beach. I put the dogs in the garage. And I waited down by the pool. But the twins are not back. I called security at the main gate and at the private gate. Nobody has seen them. They’re not in the house either. Those two are full of their pranks, but I’m worried—”

  Tally’s voice terrified Rory. At five o’clock on Thanksgiving night, this unflappable man seemed way too concerned. She directed him to take another look.

  “I’d like to send a security guard off the property to look around,” Tally said in parting, “just in case they wandered off.”

  Welton’s plane arrived in Sarasota at 3:05 p.m. Buzz Riley deplaned first and headed directly for a rental van. In the meantime Welton gave the pilot instructions to refuel, get something to eat, and be ready for departure shortly after five. The flight plan would be Sarasota to Las Vegas. Once he had Ashley on board, he intended to marry in Vegas the following day. They’d be man and wife by the time Ashley learned that the rest of her family had been killed in a major explosion.

  From then on she would have him to lean on. There’d be no more intercourse, of course. Since pregnancy no longer offered an advantage, he could avoid the problem of his painful penis disorder. Instead, he could easily program Ashley’s mind to feel sexually satisfied.

  Welton was a world expert in hypnosis. His indirect, authoritative techniques, pioneered by Milton Erickson, founding president of the American Society for Clinical Hypnosis, and a mentor, had now excelled the older man’s. Welton knew that the subconscious mind is neither logical nor analytical, and that Ashley had a favorable proclivity for hypnotic suggestion. She’d been adequately programmed that life with him was her destiny, that she needed him for her very survival. All he needed was physical proximity to reinforce his implanted induction techniques.

  He went over his plan one more time. Ashley would arrive with Dan and the private investigator in two hours. He would greet her with flowers and a loving welcome. If Dan gave him any flack, Welton would remind him that he was the one who’d insisted that Ashley was alive. And that he was the obvious choice to oversee her recovery. He was sure that once close to Ashley—close enough to physically touch her—she’d readily agree.

  Welton heard men’s voices outside the terminal. One he recognized. It was Frank Parnell, talking to an attendant. Here to meet Ashley. That surprised him. Keeping his head down, Welton stepped into a small hall leading to the restrooms. Shielding his face with a newspaper, he glanced around the corner. Frank stood with Chandler Stevens. He heard one of their cell phones ring, then Chan’s voice. “Rory wants me back at the house,” he said. “Tyler’s having an asthma attack and she’s worried that he might need oxygen. I’ll jump in a cab.”

  “No,” Frank said, in a tone worthy of a senatorial vote. “Take the Rover and have Leo Tally come back for us.”

  Welton remembered what Ashley had told him. That her father kept three vehicles at each property, a Mercedes sedan, a Porshe 911, and a Land Rover. The same model and color at both places.

  “Okay,” Chan said with no argument. “I’m sure Tyler will be fine, I just want Rory not to worry.”

  Chan left, and Frank lingered just outside the door to the terminal.

  Welton stayed in the small corridor until he heard the approach of a plane and he saw Frank head toward the door leading to the tarmac. He checked his watch. Four fifty-five. Showtime.

  “We arranged to have you taken directly to the house,” Monica told the cardinal. “Even though you’ll be staying at the rectory on Longboat. Oh, that’s Frank over there, isn’t it?” Monica pointed to the man walking out onto the tarmac.

  As the cardinal responded, Monica was distracted by the roar of a small jet about to land. She felt strangely unprotected.

  “What a coincidence.” Frank strode toward them. “I figured your plane was Ashley and Dan’s.”

  Patrick shaded his eyes to follow Monica’s gaze to the arriving plane. “A Lear. Isn’t that the Parnell aircraft?”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Ashley and Dan had fallen into an easy conversation that revealed how kind and gentle her stranger-brother was. So different in every way from Frank. They looked a lot alike, but Dan had none of Frank’s hard-driving ambition. He told her that he lived on a dirt road in the middle of nothing but palm trees.

  “My barn is four times bigger than my house. Big enough for all that heavy equipment including my favorite toy, a new John Deere.”

  “I never knew much about you, Dan,” Ashley said. “Naturally I saw you at some of the family affairs, but you were always in and out so fast. And I was sort of shy.”

  “Only thing I knew to talk about was soil and insects and rain and my palm trees. The queen palms are my favorites. I like them even better than coconuts, the signature palm of—” Dan stopped. “But I’m boring you with all this. You, with everything that’s on your mind.”

  “I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to be talking about simple, ordinary things,” Ashley said, curling her feet under her in the oversized seat.

  Ashley felt a pang of envy when Dan spoke of his remarriage to Gina. Dan was so happy and she was so miserable. Sad, confused, scared, ashamed. She patted her flat abdomen. But Dan had lost everything once and now he was so vibrant and alive. Would that ever happen to her?

  “Dan, what happened between you and Gina?” Ashley asked, needing to find something to keep her mind off what may lie ahead.

  “We were students in Miami when we fell in love and married. I told her that I was an orphan.”

  “You did?” Ashley’s look was wide-eyed.

  “I was selfish and I wanted her to love me for myself, not because I was a Parnell. I worked for a messenger service, and I never told her about the money that Dad sent as an allowance. Gina graduated from the nursing school just one month before the twins were born. She took a night-shift job in the emergency room when the babies were six weeks old. I still had one more year of school, but I was so exhausted taking care of the babies when Gina worked, that I quit going to classes and didn’t tell her.”

  Ashley had never seen this side of Dan. He’d always been so aloof and remote.

  “Then everything collapsed. Uncle Carl showed up at our place. The issue was an inheritance I was to get on my twenty-third birthday, a trust fund
left by my mother. It came as a lump sum of one and a half million dollars. The babies were then three months old. No one at home even knew I was married. Gina was about to leave for her shift at the hospital that day when Uncle Carl showed up at the door of our rented apartment. That’s when she found out that I’d built our life on a lie.”

  “Oh, how horrible,” Ashley said, for the first time her mind fixed on a problem not her own.

  “Gina simply left with the babies. I had betrayed her. She assumed that I thought she wasn’t good enough for my family.”

  Dan looked so distraught that Ashley leaned across the aisle to touch his shoulder.

  “Did you go after her?” Ashley asked.

  “No,” he said, lowering his head and pausing for a moment. “Cowardice. Pride. They say that pride is the worst of all the sins. But, Gina and I are together again.”

  “How about your son and daughter? Are they pleased about you and Gina?”

  “Yes,” Dan said, sounding tentative. “But Terry had a reaction that concerns me, shames me even. All those years the twins were growing up, I’d never considered that Gina’s rejection of the Parnell money might not have extended to them. Terry thinks that I should have made an effort to help them financially.”

  “That’s all changed now,” Ashley said, feeling inadequate to advise anybody.

  “Terry most definitely wants his share of the trust. I told him I’d do whatever it takes to pass Dad’s test. Frankly, I don’t have a clue as to what to do.”

  Ashley gave him a sympathetic pat on the arm. “Dad’s test, Dan, is at the root of what’s happened to me. Conrad is desperate for me to pass that test. And after I do, I’m afraid he will destroy me.”

  “We won’t let him near you, I swear. The compound in Florida has several layers of security.” Dan glanced back at Preston sitting in the row behind them. “Jack will see that it’s reinforced like Fort Knox.”

  Ashley tried to accept Dan’s confident promise. But she knew that Conrad would not give up on controlling her. But if she could stay safe for the next six weeks, until the money was dispersed, she’d look for a pediatric residency starting in January. Maybe in Tampa, so she could be close to Rory. Or New Mexico, near Ruthie. Still, she could not shake the image of Crissy. In the undertaker’s limousine at the cemetery.