by Meryl Sawyer
He loved her too much.
“About your problem …” She hesitated.
“People don’t have problems anymore. They have issues. I don’t have either. I have an inoperable tumor.”
Her eyes had a burning, faraway look to them. It was a minute before she said, “If you don’t want to listen to me, then there’s no point in spending any more time together.”
“Sounds like blackmail to me.”
She was off her stool and heading toward the interior of the house before the words were out of his mouth. He watched her go. Women. They couldn’t accept the world the way it was. They had to go around trying to make things better.
“Let her sulk,” he told Bingo, who was now perched on the island near his elbow. “She’ll change her mind.”
He lasted three, maybe four minutes; then he went after her. “Might as well get it over with.”
Afraid he’d wake Bubbles in the room down the hall, he knocked softly. Nothing. He tried again, louder this time. Nothing.
“Come on, now. You don’t want me to bust down the door, do you?” His threat had worked before, but not this time.
He went outside and walked around to her bedroom windows. The trade winds and ceiling fans cooled Half Moon Bay, and he knew her window would be partway open. He hoisted it up and climbed through.
Lounging on her bed, she greeted him with a scalding glare in a silence so thick, it was suffocating. Aw, hell, he had no idea she could become this pissed off just because he’d tried to joke when she wanted to be serious.
“Okay, you win, babe. Let’s talk.” He sat down beside her at a safe distance, so she wouldn’t get the idea that he had anything on his mind except their discussion.
“If you’re not completely serious—leave.”
Like it or not, he was going to have to hear her out. “I’m serious. You were saying character determines fate. Go on.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “When I went into the Witness Protection Program, I had to have a plan in case Dexxter found me. My birthmark was like a neon light flashing. Everyone noticed me. I had to take risks to get from California to Key West unnoticed.”
There was a lethal calmness to her voice that told him her cross-country trek had been a terrible ordeal. Until now he hadn’t thought much about how she’d managed to find her way to Key West.
“I’d seen a television show about a boy who stole a ride in the trunk of a car. While I was in an FBI safe house, waiting for my new identification and relocation in the Witness Protection Program, I studied car trunks. I learned which ones could be opened from inside, how to make an air vent, and how to get out.
“I was placed in the program, but I was still nervous about Dexxter finding me. I hid a small backpack near the house. When the firebomb hit, I grabbed the pack and ran, carrying Jiggs. I worked my way across this country, never once staying in a motel, never once eating even in a fast food place … doing my best to leave no trail Dexxter could find.”
He struggled to imagine her running for her life. With no one to help or comfort her. Being brave for a moment, a day, was one thing. This kind of courage took an inner strength few possessed.
“I’m claustrophobic, and I’m not fond of the dark. I had to force myself into countless trunks, never knowing if I could actually get out. Twice locks jammed and I had to work at them until I finally got them open. I never gave up.”
“I’m so proud of you. I can’t imagine—”
“Matt, I believe in destiny. Being a stowaway, the accident, even having that creep Simon touch me—all the misery—was for a reason. It brought us together. I love you. We deserve a lifetime of happiness.”
“I know, darling. I know.” He reached for her, but she pulled back. “I love you so much, it hurts when I think all we have is a year—at most.”
“Then why don’t you do something about it? I was willing to take any risk to get here, even climb into strangers’ trunks. Won’t you do something for us?”
He’d known all along it was coming to this. “You’re going to tell me to see another doctor.”
She shook her head. “I’m going to ask you to go to Miami and have another MRI.”
“What good will that do?”
“It’ll tell us if it’s … too late or not.”
“Too late?”
“There’s a doctor from Germany that we located—”
“Who’s we?” Aw, hell, what had she gotten him into now?
“Trevor and Clive helped me.”
“You promised you wouldn’t—”
“I love you too much to give up. They care about what happens to you. Clive went on the Internet and found a doctor who is in this country demonstrating a new laser machine for neurosurgery.”
He groaned and sagged back against the headboard. “Doctors and their toys.”
“It isn’t a toy, Matt. I’m not going to tell you it’s without risk, but it is your only chance. You need to have a current MRI. If the tumor has grown too much, it will be impossible to perform this laser procedure.”
He gathered her in his arms. This time she didn’t resist. Resting his brow against hers, he whispered, “I hate to give you false hope.”
“Every time I climbed into the trunk of a car, I took a chance. All I had was hope. I can deal with this. If the scan is negative, I can deal with that. But I can’t deal with giving up.”
“I’m not giving up.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
He tilted her head up for a kiss and discovered her eyes were brimming with tears. “Sweetheart, don’t cry.”
“I’m not crying.”
“Coulda fooled me.” He thought for a moment. “Why are we going to Miami for the MRI? There’s a hospital right here.”
“Cl-Clive thinks the doctors who interpret the test results are more skilled there.”
“I’m not leaving you here unprotected,” he told her as he wiped away the tears that had not fell with the pad of his thumb.
“We’ll call Scott Phillips from the airport. I’m not letting the FBI stop me from coming with you.”
He knew better than to argue with this woman. Still, a sense of apprehension, a strange foreboding, gripped him. Not for himself—he’d faced his situation some time ago and had come to terms with it. He sensed danger to her, although he could not say exactly what would happen. Or when.
Chapter 31
Dexxter waited for a cloud to pass over the moon before he tiptoed out of the shadows and placed a piece of fish on the edge of the terrace. It was after two in the morning, and everyone at Half Moon Bay was asleep, but he didn’t want anyone to catch him testing the Tazer. He slipped back into the shadows and waited, certain one of Trevor’s cats would pick up the scent and come out through the open door to investigate.
“Here, kitty, kitty,” he called under his breath, mentally luring the fat orange cat outside. What was his name? Bingo. He wanted the one-eyed cat.
He waited a few minutes and out trotted the orange cat followed by the half-eared mutt. Perfect. According to his calculations, Bingo was the biggest animal on the island at twenty pounds or so. The mutt was smaller, the same size as the other lap dogs on Sunset Key. Why no one had a big dog, a real man’s dog like a Doberman was beyond him.
He’d like to test the Tazer on a large dog, but the cat was just going to have to do. Bingo was munching on the fish, head down. He needed a full body shot.
“Be patient,” he told himself.
Bingo finished and sat back to lick his paws. Dexx aimed for the cat’s chest and slowly squeezed the trigger. Zap. The jolt of electricity slammed into the cat, knocking him backward several feet.
Dexx held his watch up to the moon. He needed to see exactly how long the cat would be down, too stunned to move. Granted, a grown woman would recover more quickly, but he’d been itching to test the stun gun.
The maroon-colored mutt scampered to the cat’s side and nudged the limp animal with his nose. Nothin
g. Bingo was out cold. Interesting, very interesting. The dog nosed the cat again, harder this time.
No response. Good, thought Dexxter. Half a minute and counting. The info on the National Rifle Association Web site said a Tazer at half power would stun a person, immobilizing the victim for over a minute.
Just long enough.
The mutt was circling the cat now, whimpering frantically. The dog halted, threw back his head, and howled like a coyote. Shit! Who would have thought the little dog could make a noise like that?
He had to get out of here before someone came. He slipped out of the bushes, intent on making his way back to the brick trail that wound through Sunset Key. A blast of light seared across the yard. He drew back and hunkered down, concealed by the dense ferns and night shadows.
He heard Trevor call, “Jiggs, is that you?”
The ugly mutt was still howling, but his cries weren’t as powerful now.
“Bingo, are you all right, boy?” Trevor asked.
The doctor came outside with him—surprise, surprise—wearing a silk robe. A second later Matthew Jensen rushed outside, shirtless, wearing unbuttoned cutoffs.
“What’s wrong with Bingo?” Shelly asked as she dashed up to the group.
His Shelly—he always thought of her as “his” now—wore nothing but an extra-extra large T-shirt that must belong to Jensen. Her flushed cheeks and tousled hair told him just what “his” woman had been doing.
Just wait, Shelly. Just wait.
Clive was kneeling beside Bingo, making a show of examining him for Trevor, no doubt. “He’s still alive.”
The faggy doctor tried to revive Bingo without any luck. Dexx checked his Rolex and saw almost three minutes had passed.
Watching the group, Dexx saw Matt put his arm around Shelly. She leaned into him as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Raw anger like a corrosive acid ate at Dexxter’s stomach.
He was going to have to get rid of Matt. An accident wouldn’t do. A rash of the same type of accidents in the area would only arouse suspicion. He could pay Zane to kill Matt, the way he’d had the snitches in Singapore killed. But he wanted to take care of this asshole himself.
“He’s coming to,” Clive announced.
Dexx tilted his watch sideways to catch the light. Four minutes give or take a few seconds. He figured the National Rifle Association knew their business. The stun gun would render a woman helpless for just long enough.
“Yeee—ooow!” shrieked the cat as it tried to stand up. He collapsed on the flagstones. The stupid mutt began to lick its face.
Clive was feeling the animal. “Bingo has a strange break. He’s broken a bone that’s equivalent to a human sternum.”
Dexx chuckled to himself. The black ape who had sold him the Tazer warned him that it could break bones. He didn’t want her bones broken. No sir, that would only make the police suspicious. It was important the cause of death be listed as accidental.
“How could Bingo get such an injury out here on the terrace?” Shelly wanted to know.
“Revenge of the ospreys,” Matt said. “Bingo has bagged enough of them.”
“Matt, this isn’t funny,” Shelly said.
“I know. I feel terrible for Bingo. He’s in a lot of pain.”
“That’s odd,” Clive commented, still examining the cat. “There’s a burn mark of some kind on his fur.”
“Hey, like, what’s happening?” Bubbles emerged from the house, yawning.
“Bingo has been hurt,” Trevor said. “I’m going to call the vet.”
“It’s the middle of the night,” Clive pointed out.
“Preston’s a friend of mine.” Trevor disappeared into the house.
Clive gathered the cat up in a towel that Matt had gotten and went into the house, followed by the others. Once they were inside, Dexxter slipped out of the bushes, patting the Tazer in his waistband. He’d never had this much fun.
And it was only going to get better.
“How’s Bingo?”
She was sitting near Clive in the waiting area of Miami General Hospital, and Trevor had just returned from using the public phone. They’d taken the first flight that morning from Key West to Miami and had come directly to the hospital so Matt could have an MRI. It had been the middle of the night when they’d rushed Bingo to Paws ’N Claws Veterinary Clinic. Trevor hadn’t gotten a report until now.
Trevor’s smile fired his green eyes with an inner light. “Preston had to make a special cast for the upper half of Bingo’s body, but he’ll recover. What happened is a mystery. Preston says the bone was shattered, not just broken.”
“Strange,” Clive said as Trevor sat down beside him. “How could that have happened?”
“I’m glad he’s going to be okay,” she said, but her mind was on Matt. He’d been gone for over two hours.
She leaned back and closed her eyes, saying a silent prayer for Matt. She must have dozed off. Trevor was nudging her. Looking up, she saw Matt coming down the hall.
“We might as well go to lunch,” he said. “They won’t have the results for an hour or so.”
He sounded casual, and he was wearing a smile, but he didn’t fool her. He had an aversion to hospitals and doctors that went back to when his own mother had been hospitalized with the same condition. They’d been up last night talking about it when the howls had gotten their attention.
“I’m your doctor of record,” Clive said as Matt gave her a bear hug. “They’ll page me as soon as they have the results.”
The group wandered down the hall to the cafeteria and bought lunches that were one cut above airline food. They cleared a table on the patio.
“I have Dr. Dietz standing by,” Clive told Matt when they were seated.
“I haven’t had a chance to tell Matt much about Dr. Dietz,” she said.
Under the table, Matt squeezed her knee. “Do I even want to know? If the tumor’s grown then surgery is out of the question.”
“It hasn’t grown,” she said. Fate couldn’t be that cruel.
“You haven’t had any headaches,” Trevor said. “That’s a good sign.”
Matt kept eating his turkey-on-rye sandwich.
“Oscar Dietz lives in Germany. He developed a laser that’s attached to a special digital computer. He’s been working at the NYU Medical Center with a team there that has invented a similar machine,” Clive said. “It’s pretty amazing really. He maps the brain with a functional MRI that outlines the brain on the computer, pinpointing not only the tumor, but also the blood vessels. That way Dietz knows exactly where to direct the laser.”
“There’s less margin for error,” she told Matt who looked only mildly interested in this revolutionary procedure.
“The recovery time is remarkable. You leave the hospital the next day,” Trevor added. “They shave just a patch of hair, not your whole head.”
“Right now, Dr. Dietz is in Atlanta demonstrating his procedure at a clinic there,” Clive said. “He’s planning to return to Dusseldorf tomorrow unless we need him. Then he’ll fly to Key West.”
“Really?” Matt asked. “His equipment is that portable?”
Clive nodded enthusiastically. “A laptop, a small MRI unit and a laser.”
“Have gun, will travel.” Her attempt at a joke earned a weak smile from Trevor. Nothing from Matt.
“If the microsurgery is possible,” Clive continued, “I’ll have Dr. Dietz perform it at my clinic. I have the best medical team in the state.”
“Maybe I should have a face lift while I’m at it.”
She shook her head. “Very funny, Matt.”
“I want you all to promise me something.” Matt looked at each one of them in turn, first Clive, then Trevor, and finally her. “I know you want to help me, but if this doesn’t work, you’ll never mention doctors again. Let me enjoy what time I have left.”
“Of course, Matt,” Trevor said.
Clive slapped his hand on his hip. “There’s my beeper. Looks li
ke they have the results in record time.”
Bracing himself for the worst, yet trying to be upbeat, Matt leaned over and gave Shelly a quick kiss. “Wish me luck.”
Misty-eyed, she looked at him for a long moment. “It’s going to be okay.”
He left her with Trevor and followed Clive to the radiologist’s office. One wall of the room was covered by MRI frames, slice after slice after slice of his brain. Having had three MRIs before this one, Matt knew what to look for.
He checked the sea horse-shaped hippocampus highlighted in each frame. He’d be damned if he could tell any difference from the earlier MRIs. But what did he know?
He and Clive sat opposite the doctor’s desk. As a reporter, Matt had learned to read people fairly well. Doctors were tough. There must be a course in medical school: Mastering the Impassive Expression. The doctor began by sharing some medical mumbojumbo with Clive.
Matt cut him off. “Has the tumor grown?”
The doctor blinked, and Matt knew.
“Your tumor has grown.” The doctor rose from his desk and went over to the wall where the MRIs were. He pointed to one. “Less than a millimeter, but I think it’s too close to the hippocampus to operate even with a laser.”
Matt didn’t allow himself to be disappointed. All along, in his heart of hearts he’d never believed he had a chance. If he hadn’t been so much in love, he never would have let them put him through this.
“Did you send the MRIs to Dr. Dietz?” Clive asked.
“Yes. We have a high-resolution fax. They went out to Atlanta right after they were taken.” The doctor checked his watch. “He should be calling any minute now.”
Clive leaned toward Matt. “Dr. Dietz may have a different opinion.”
Matt tuned-out the doctors, wondering how he was going to break the news to Shelly. Strange, he called her Shelly so often that the name seemed to fit. With the news he’d just received, he might not live long enough to be comfortable calling her Amy.
The telephone rang, and it was Dr. Dietz. They put him on the speaker phone, so they all could hear what he had to say. His English was excellent Matt decided as he listened to the doctor.
