by Shawn Grady
“Come on.” Eli motioned. “I’ll give you a ride.”
CHAPTER 28
We walked around the corner to High Street, and I pulled out my cell to dial Naomi. Eli fished keys from his pocket next to a burnished bronze, late-sixties International Scout II. A chrome roof rack perched atop the bone-white upper half of the two-door SUV.
“Where’d you get this ride?”
He grinned with a hint of Millennium Falcon pride. “Something I’ve been working on in the garage out back.”
Naomi’s line rang seven times before rolling over to voice mail. “Hi, this is Naomi. Sorry I couldn’t take your call. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.” A beep followed.
“Hey, it’s me.” I looked around, searching the city, not sure how much was safe to say on a recording.
Eli climbed in.
I opened the passenger door. “So, I . . .”
Eli reached under the driver’s seat and produced an obsidian black revolver in a leather holster.
“Just give me a call.” I pulled the phone from my ear. “Doc” – I checked both directions – “what’re you doing? We’re right next to the police station.”
He flipped the bullet cylinder out, his index finger straight along the three-inch barrel. “Close the door.”
This was a new side to Eli.
My door squeaked, falling hard and fast against the car with the camber of the road. I watched him insert six thirty-eight-caliber slugs into the chamber.
He clicked the cylinder in place one-handed, holstered the piece, and tucked it between the gearshift and the four-wheel-drive levers.
“I’m sorry I don’t have another one for you.” He started the engine.
Do I need one?
We pulled into the street.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the revolver. “Where are we headed?”
“Out of here.”
“Out of where? Reno?”
“More is at stake than your job.” He threw me a glance. “We’ve stepped on a hornets’ nest, Jonathan.” Eli merged onto Interstate 80 West. “Open the glove box.”
I turned the knob and lowered the long rectangular door. A FedEx envelope lay inside, addressed to me.
“That was on your doorstep.”
“You stopped by my house?”
“Better me than you.”
I scanned the side-view mirror. “Are we being followed?”
Eli checked his mirrors. “It is possible.” He switched to the fast lane, increasing the hum of the Scout’s tires over the road.
“What made you think to go to my house first?”
“Before I got your message about being in jail, someone from the police department called. They gave a name and inquired about your whereabouts last evening, if you’d been with me, and if so, had you been showing any signs of being under the influence. I responded that no, you hadn’t been, and that I’d never once seen you in such a state from either alcohol or drugs.”
We began the uphill toward the mountains. Semis slowed in the other lanes. Eli glanced in the rearview mirror. “When I asked him to repeat his name, he hung up. That’s when I realized I had no way of knowing if that person was in fact from the police department. And I’d just told whomever it was that you didn’t have an alibi with me for wherever you were last night.”
“Or wherever somebody wanted to place me as being at.”
“Right. Something felt off. So I called your cell phone from the morgue but got no answer. I left work early and stopped by your house. When you weren’t there I turned on my phone and saw that you’d left a voice mail. That’s when I saw the envelope on your doorstep.”
“Had it just been delivered?”
“That’s what I gathered. I took the liberty of opening it once I was back in the car. I hope you don’t mind.”
I examined the envelope. “Of course not.” The first line on the return address read AAMC: MCAT. I pulled out a single sheet of paper on professional letterhead.
Dear Mr. Trestle,
It is with great regret that the MCAT review board must censure your recent exam results as required by our regulations. Recent video evidence has revealed that you did not adhere to the strict protocols set forth to ensure each candidate’s answers are entirely self-derived. The censure includes a four-year ban from retaking the exam.
We hope that a character of utmost integrity will guide your future endeavors.
Sincerely,
Ronald Smith, CEO
Association of American
Medical Colleges
I knocked my head against the seat. This couldn’t be happening. “Someone’s trying to frame me.”
“Not trying, son. In one fell swoop you’ve been marked as a thief, addict, and cheater.”
“ ‘Recent video evidence’?”
The car wandered into the corrugated median. The pistol vibrated on the center console until Eli corrected back into the lane. “I have received two death threats this week.”
“What? How?”
“First by phone. I was the last one at the morgue, finishing up reports. The call lasted ten seconds.”
“What’d they say?”
“It was a digitally modified voice. It said, ‘Leave it or join them.’ ”
I checked my cell phone to see if Naomi had called back. No messages. “And what about the other?”
“A note.”
“In the mail?”
“No.” He took a deep breath. “In a stomach.”
“In a – ”
“Man . . . his fifties. Homeless. The paramedics found him in an alley. No witnesses.”
“So an autopsy was ordered.”
“Right. When I examined the stomach contents, I found a tiny laminated note rolled up like a scroll and tied with floss.”
“What did it say?”
“Same message.”
Evening darkened the mountain canyons, obscuring the –Truckee River below.
I folded the MCAT letter. “Who doesn’t want us to know about the times?”
“What times?”
“Letell’s note contained dates and response times for Aprisa ambulances. When we compared them against Aprisa’s database, the numbers didn’t match.”
“Let me guess – Aprisa’s all fit neatly into their county mandate.”
“Exactly.”
He nodded. “Losing a lucrative contract – that could be motivation.”
“But enough to drive someone to murder?”
“Who stands to gain the most from Aprisa’s success?”
I leaned an elbow on the door and rubbed my chin. “Maybe we should be asking who stands to lose the most from its failure.”
“Fear is a powerful motivator.”
“Shintao caught me downloading run times last night.”
“Shintao?”
“The Aprisa accounting VP.”
Eli ran his thumb over the steering wheel. “So Shintao could be savvy to the fact that you know the times don’t add up.”
“Assuming he himself knows. Then yes.”
“And today you are arrested on false charges, your MCAT scores are discredited under false pretenses, and your hopes for medical school and a scholarship are stripped away.”
“Someone knew how to hit me where it hurts.” The mountainside raced past the passenger window.
“Who else knows about the scholarship?”
“Pretty much everyone.”
“How did you first get notice of it?”
“Dr. Kurtz.”
Eli’s cheeks tightened, as if he had tasted a tannin-laden wine.
Kurtz? “Why would he want me out of med school? He’s been the main guy working to get me there.”
“He is paid by Aprisa to serve as their medical director, correct?”
“Yes.”
“What about profit sharing? Do employees have a buy-in with the company?”
I shook my head. “Aprisa is a Reno start-up. It’s not publicly traded.”<
br />
“Yet. Anyone not particularly fond of you?”
“You mean . . . do I have any enemies?”
“Put bluntly.”
“I happen to be a very well-liked individual, Eli.”
“At least you were.” He gave a quick smile. “Sorry.”
“I’ve found a new talent.”
“What’s that?”
“Turning public tide against me.”
“Who knew?”
I ran my hands over my face and exhaled. “Where are you taking us, anyway?”
“I have a small cabin in Tahoe. Emerald Bay. We can regroup there for a bit.”
“At some point I’ve got to talk to Kurtz. If anyone can clear this up, he can. He might be able to use his pull with Aprisa or maybe talk to someone about the MCATs. I’d like to see them produce that alleged video.”
Eli nodded. “Itself doctored, I’m sure.”
“Out of anyone, Kurtz’s position would be one of the most influential with both Aprisa and the MCATs.”
Eli rested a hand on top of the wheel. “But you said yourself, he’s been nothing but an advocate. Why undo what he’s done for you?”
I shook my head. “I’m calling him.”
“You sure that’s wise?”
“I need to ask him where the scholarship stands, if nothing else.”
“Jonathan, I – ”
“It’s ringing.” I leaned my elbow on the door with the phone in hand.
The line picked up. “This is Joseph.”
“Doc, it’s me.”
“Jonathan? How are you?”
“Oh, just great. Super, really. Let’s talk about baseball, or maybe the weather. Or, you know, why I am being framed for narcotic theft.”
“Hold on, now, Jonathan. You know I had nothing to do with that. The news came to me after the fact.”
“You had no idea?”
“You think I would just stand by and not come to you if I had?”
“I got thrown in jail, Doc.”
He sighed. “Jonathan, I am so sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t help. I got a letter from the MCATs. That news to you too?”
“Look, let’s slow this down a bit.”
“You knew about the MCATs?”
“I received a phone call with an inquiry related to an investigation.” “So you knew about it. Were you planning on telling me?”
“Believe it or not, I do get those from time to time. I figured it was a random audit. I know several of the members on the governing board, and I assure you they are all top-notch.”
“Is that right? So you’re saying you believe them?”
“Believe them about what?”
“They accused me of cheating.”
“On what grounds?”
“Video evidence.”
“Jonathan, this is not good.”
“You want me to believe you knew nothing about this?”
“How could I possibly know? I understand you are upset and that this could have dire consequences for your scholarship.
But I do not appreciate your calling me out with an accusatory tone.”
I watched the yellow line of the road wind past the car.
Kurtz cleared his throat. “Look, why don’t you meet with me tomorrow, and we will see what options we have. Get a game plan going.”
I glanced at Eli. “All right. Where? At the med school?”
“No. I’m . . . I have a full schedule lined out. Let’s meet up at the Old Country.”
“That dive on Fourth Street?”
“I know. But it’s only a bar in front. If you park around back you’ll find some of the best German meals you’ve ever tasted. Tell you what, I’ll buy.”
“About what time?”
“See you at six thirty?”
I took a deep breath. “Okay, Doc. See you then.”
CHAPTER 29
We wound along 89 and the west shore of Lake Tahoe, rising to about midslope over the lake. Eli shut off the headlights and pulled across the highway onto a dirt road. He drove ten yards in.
We waited.
Two cars passed.
He shifted the transmission into four-wheel drive low, turned on the running lights, and crawled forward.
The highway disappeared as we rounded a corner. I braced a hand on the doorframe. “You think we’re in the clear?”
He adjusted his grip on the wheel. “Hard to know. If someone really wants to find us, they eventually will. Just might take them a day or two.” The car rocked with the uneven road. “I do have supplies down at the cabin.”
The dull amber lights didn’t seem sufficient. “Can you see well enough?”
“I’ve been coming down this path since I was a child.” He turned left before I could even tell the road went that way. He held a ten-and-two grip on the thin and wide steering wheel. It jerked left to right in short quick jabs. “You mentioned a ‘we’ before when you spoke about comparing the numbers to Aprisa’s database. Were you referring to Naomi?”
“Yes. But I don’t think anybody knows that she was involved.”
“Shintao didn’t see her?”
“No.”
We kept quiet for the better part of the winding descent. Eli pulled the Scout to a stop by a woodshed behind a small log cabin.
A waning half-moon cast a dull white fan over Emerald Bay, visible through a filtered tree view and not more than a couple hundred yards away. Eli grabbed a cloth grocery sack and a small flashlight from the rear, then led the way to the front door.
“How come I never knew you had this place?”
“I could’ve sworn I’d mentioned it. It’s been in our family for a century. Always a place of solitude and healing for me.”
We stepped up on a small wood porch. Eli crouched and felt the short planks that ran perpendicular to the front cabin wall, stopping at one to the right of the entry. He lifted it and picked up a green box from below. He blew off a coating of fine dust and set it on the porch top.
“Here.” He handed me the flashlight.
It looked like a vintage ammo box. I kept the beam focused on a small combination lock attached to the side latch. Eli spun the wheel and released the bolt.
He opened the lid and produced a key ring from inside the box. “My father wanted this cabin to be available to anyone who needed it. Rather than copy a bunch of keys, he made up this system.”
He replaced the box and board and unlocked the front door.
Inside smelled of musty pine.
“Come on in. Over here in the kitchen.”
I followed him with the light to a drawer where he pulled out a book of wooden matches. An oil lantern sat on a small dining table. Eli lifted the glass and lit the wick. A warm, bulbous glow filled the room. A cool breeze angled through the front door.
“I’ll get that.” I walked back and shut it.
The place looked to be about a thousand square feet, with two bedrooms off the back hallway, each big enough for a double bed and one chest of drawers. Eli lit lamps in each and one in the living room. He took logs from an iron holder by the stone hearth and went to work building a fire.
“Take whichever room you’d like, Jonathan. I’ll try and get this going – see if we can warm things up.”
It didn’t take long before he had a ripping fire going. He propped the stoker in its holder.
My phone vibrated. Naomi’s number. “Hey.”
“Jonathan?”
“Yeah.”
“I called as soon as I got your message. We were slammed with back-to-back flights. What’s up?”
I gave her the rundown and invited her to meet at the cabin, pausing to ask Eli how to describe the exit for the dirt road.
He shook his head. “It’s difficult to find in the daytime, let alone at night. She’s likely to draw attention.” He folded his hands and leaned his elbows on his knees. “Tell you what. Have her find a parking space in the Vikingsholm parking lot. Tourists occasionally park there to watch t
he moonrise over the lake. She’ll be less likely to stand out that way.”
“Sometimes the best place to hide is – ”
“Right out in the open. Exactly. Tell her to take the long hike down to the beach by the Vikingsholm castle. I have a two-person kayak stored in a redwood container by the beach. In this moon, you should be able to see well enough to take it across and pick her up.”
I nodded, relayed the information to Naomi, and hung up.
Eli brought a small water backpack from the front closet. “There’ll be less of a chance this way of her leading someone directly to us. Take this when you go. There’s a first-aid kit, flint and steel, and a thin fleece blanket should you need it. I’d do it myself, Jonathan. But these arms are about worn out for the night.” He rubbed his shoulder and winked. “Besides, you know a thing or two about kayaking.”
“No problem. I’d like to go get her myself anyway.”
“I know you would, son.”
I studied his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You think that after watching you two grow up I’m that unobservant?”
“Observant of what?” I paced behind the couch. “I, for one, do not need to be shackled down.”
“Shackled?”
“Eli, as far as I’m concerned, marriage equates to the old ball and chain.”
“Who said anything about marriage?”
“You did.”
He shook his head.
“Didn’t you?”
He grinned. “I will say this – Naomi waits. But she won’t forever.”
I huffed. “How about you? It’s been a long time since Maureen passed away. You haven’t retied the knot.”
“She was my one.”
The fire popped. I looked at the floor. “Name me one happily married couple.”
“There are plenty of them.”
“Name one.”
“How about Naomi’s parents?”
I’d forgotten about them. “All right, fine. Name another.”
“There’s no need. Because not everyone loves their spouse the way God intends them to.”
“There’s what God intended and what actually happens.”
He knitted his eyebrows. “Oh yes, yes. Of course.” He warmed his hands by the fire. “You know, I’ve been meaning to tell you that I’ve felt a burden to pray for your father lately.”
