“William, you have to help me. This is all a colossal mix-up. There was a nut shooting up the bank and I stopped him. Nothing more.”
“Well, according to all of this,” he said, gesturing to the papers spread across the table, “you shot and killed a drug-addled head case with an empty gun. The prosecution will argue that you could have stayed hidden, done nothing, and Carlos would have left, with or without the money. But instead, you chose to shoot him—an unarmed man with a drug problem. They will paint him as the victim and you as the attacker.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Nope. If they really want to go for gold, they’ll up the charges from involuntary manslaughter to second-degree murder. And if they believe that money that mysteriously appeared in your account was payment for killing Carlos, you could be looking at first-degree murder, conspiracy to commit murder, and even murder for hire.”
I plopped back down in the chair.
“I don’t believe this,” I said. I put my head in my hands and closed my eyes.
“Well, believe it, Simon. This is as real as it gets.” He put his hands on his hips as he looked over the papers before him. “The press is going to have a fucking field day with this as soon as it gets out.”
“Well, that’s just great,” I said, looking up. “There goes my practice. If I’m charged with murder, I’m finished.”
“Simon, if you’re charged with murder, your practice will be the least of your concerns,” William said, his patented tact shining through.
“Can you get me out of here?” I asked.
“Not tonight.”
I popped out of the chair like I’d been sitting on a spring. “What do you mean, not tonight?! I can’t spend the night here, William!”
“I hate to break it to you, Simon, but you’re probably gonna be spending the weekend here.”
“What?! Why?! Can’t we pay the bond or bail or whatever and get me the hell out of here?”
“I’m afraid not. We have to appear before a judge to argue for bail at your arraignment. That won’t happen until Monday at the earliest.”
“For fuck’s sake William! Do something! Work your magic! Just get me the hell out of here!”
“I wish I could, Simon, I really do. But my hands are tied. There’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry.”
I sank back into the chair, defeated. I was about to spend the weekend in jail. I heard the words in my head, but even I didn’t believe them.
Chapter 48
During normal everyday life, weekends flew by and Monday mornings came fast. But the weekend I spent in jail was the longest two days of my life. Despite being moved to an individual cell, sleep was hard to come by. Jail wasn’t the same as prison, but there were still noises and activity at all hours of the night. Scenes from every prison movie I’d ever seen flashed through my mind, and my imagination created some pretty disturbing scenarios, particularly when I closed my eyes. On the bright side, it was nothing compared to what Carlos had been doing to me in my dreams.
As I lay there in the dark, I wondered if I would ever really be free of him. Less than twenty-four hours ago, I thought this was all behind me. Now, suddenly, I found myself locked in a cage, facing the very real possibility of prison. Involuntary manslaughter? Second-degree murder? I didn’t really know what either of those meant.
My mind raced and the questions kept coming. How did this happen? What new evidence did they have to justify an arrest warrant? And where the hell did that money come from?
The weekend crawled by, but Monday morning finally, mercifully arrived. I was both excited and nervous as I got ready for my court appearance. What if bail was denied? What if I was stuck in jail until the trial? I tried not to think like that, but with the way my luck had been going, it was hard not to.
William had arranged for us to be the first case of the morning to appear before the judge. He’d never admit it, but I think he felt bad I had to spend the weekend in jail. I was exhausted, unshaven, unkempt, and in my red jumpsuit, looked like every other criminal who traipsed through the courtroom every single day.
William spoke on my behalf. Per his instruction, I said nothing. The judge read the charges against me, we entered a plea of not guilty, and William made a motion for bail. He assured the judge I was not a flight risk, had strong ties to the community, and was an upstanding citizen. Being that this was my first offense of any kind, bail was set at fifty-thousand dollars. William said that was reasonable, and I nodded, relieved and extremely grateful that bail had been granted.
Thanks to the anonymous wire transfer, I had the money available in my bank account, but William said my accounts would most likely be frozen any day now. Besides, it wouldn’t look good if I spent the ill-gotten funds especially since I was denying knowledge of their existence. Instead, we turned to a local bail bondsman William knew.
Barry Poole had been the owner and operator of West Palm Bail Bonds for over twenty years. For a flat fee of ten percent, he would pay the required bail and ensure I show up for my scheduled court appearance. In exchange, I had to pay him the five thousand dollars, and sign my house over as collateral. I felt sick as I signed the papers.
Barry was a large, bald man, with more tattoos than I could count. As I slid the papers over to him, he made it very clear to me how important it was that I not miss my court date. I got the feeling my health depended on it.
Once the court had been paid, the judge signed my release, assigned a trial date three months out and I was free. Sort of. The judge encouraged me not to leave town and to keep my nose clean. William told me he said that to everyone.
Fifteen minutes later, I shed my red jumpsuit, was back in my own clothes and outside in the sun. It’s amazing the little things we take for granted. After being locked up for over two days, I was thrilled to be in the fresh air.
I enjoyed it for about ten seconds before the herd of reporters set upon us. My arrest had resurrected their enthusiasm for me and my case. The rabid horde moved in on us with their cameras and microphones, firing questions one on top of the other. I guess I should have been grateful they weren’t allowed in the courtroom to take pictures of me in my red jumpsuit. I shielded my eyes from the lights and looked around for a way out.
William took quick control of the situation, probably to keep me from saying or doing something stupid. He grabbed me by the arm and began using his sizeable frame to push us forward. He shouted, “No comment!” over the din.
Fortunately, William’s car was parked at the curb ten feet from the door through which we’d just emerged. He unceremoniously shoved reporters and cameramen out of the way until we reached it. He opened the passenger door, pushed me in, and closed the door behind me. As he walked around to the driver’s side, I could see him holding his middle finger up high in the air in salute to the entire press corps.
“Fucking leeches,” he said as he got in. He started the car, put it in gear, and we sped off quickly before they could take any more pictures.
My car was still at my office where I’d parked it three days ago, and William had offered to take me there. We rode mostly in silence, but he tried to reassure me everything would be alright. I wasn’t sure he believed in me or my innocence, but I thanked him anyway and we agreed to meet at his office later this week to discuss the case.
I got out, watched him drive off, and hopped in my car. Fifteen minutes later I was in my driveway. I headed straight for my neighbor’s house, and Tim came to the door on the first ring. Mandy was right behind him, jumping up and down and chirping with excitement.
As always, Tim had a smile on his face, but it was different now. It wasn’t friendly and warm, but sympathetic and judgmental. I’d have to get used to that. Word was out about my arrest and the court of public opinion was never kind.
Since I’d used my one phone call from jail on William, I’d asked him to call Tim and
tell him I needed him to watch Mandy for me. I knew Tim wouldn’t say no—he was too nice—but he clearly wasn’t happy about doing me any favors right now. I squatted down and Mandy attacked me with kisses and little nips to my nose. I thanked Tim repeatedly and walked Mandy back to the house. She did her business on the way and I fed her as soon as we got inside.
I hadn’t slept much in the last forty-eight hours. I’d spent the weekend in jail, the morning in court, just signed our house over to a loan-shark, and the media was on my back again. And I still hadn’t told Sara anything. I was not looking forward to that conversation.
I didn’t drink much, but after the weekend I had, I needed a beer.
With a cold one in hand, I plopped down on the couch, took a long swig, and pulled out my cell phone. When they’d returned my things to me as I signed out at the jail, I just shoved everything in my pockets, anxious to leave. As I expected, there were dozens of missed calls and text messages, mostly from Sara. She must be out of her mind with worry. The camp was in a remote part of Maine with spotty cell service and little to no internet access, so hopefully she had been spared the reports of my arrest.
We normally spoke every day when she was away at camp. So with everything that had been happening over the last few months, she must have known something was wrong. I touched her name on the speed dial and it started ringing.
This should be fun.
Chapter 49
It had been three days since we’d spoken. She broke down when she heard my voice, and cried even harder when I told her about being arrested and spending the weekend in jail. She couldn’t believe what I was saying any more than I could. I gave her the abbreviated version of events, and she told me how sad and sorry she was.
Her despair quickly turned to anger and she began to rant. She talked loud and fast, and it was hard to understand everything she said, but things like such bullshit and fucking ridiculous came through loud and clear. Her words echoed my thoughts and it reminded me of why I loved her.
We talked for nearly an hour. I tried more than once to change the subject and talk about camp and the boys, but she kept circling the conversation back to me. She wanted to come home, to be there for me, but I wouldn’t let her. My court date was three months away and between now and then there was little she could do to help. “How about be with you?” she said. I assured her I’d be fine until she got back. I had Mandy. Besides, I needed to focus my energy on resurrecting whatever was left of my practice.
Sara and I said our goodbyes and I promised we’d talk every day. As soon as we hung up, I called the office. Vera and Alexis had been worried about me as well. They were horrified at the image of me being hauled away in cuffs. I assured them it was no picnic for me either.
There were no appointments on the book for the entire week. Vera hadn’t known how long I’d be gone or what state I’d be in when I returned, so she rescheduled everyone. The ones that didn’t already cancel on their own, that is. My arrest had been one of the top news stories of the weekend.
It was early afternoon on Monday and the phone had not been ringing, she said. It seemed any ground we had made up in recent weeks was lost after my arrest. We were back to damage control. Although, this time, it felt more like rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic.
I told her to book anyone that called and to schedule them for whenever they wanted to come in. My patients were about to experience level-ten ass-kissing. The new plan was to give them over-the-top service, smother them with personal attention, and hopefully word would spread that I’m not a crazed killer, but a kind and competent doctor.
I took a long, hot shower, washed off the stink and grime of a weekend in jail, forced myself to eat something, and climbed into bed. I closed my eyes and soon began to drift. I’m going to sleep for a week, I told myself.
Carlos had other ideas.
I had just finished a practice session at the range. I pulled the lever on the wall to retract my target and check my groupings, but it wouldn’t budge. I jerked the lever back and forth a few times, but it wouldn’t respond. The target just dangled out there. I took my hand off the lever, folded my arms, and stared at it, fifteen feet down range, wondering how I was going to get it back.
I decided to go get help but just as I began to turn away, I caught a glimmer of something out of the corner of my eye. I turned back, and there he was. An apparition floated through the target and drifted toward me. It was Carlos. There was a bloody hole where his right eye used to be, and another in his chest. Worms and maggots crawled and fell from the gaping wounds. He extended his arms and descended upon me, his mouth open wide. Inside was nothing but blackness.
I was paralyzed with fear, frozen in place. He grabbed my shoulders with his bony hands and a chill spread through my body. He pushed me down onto my back, pinning me down, and hovered over me. I looked around for help, but the range, full just a moment ago, was now empty. Worms and maggots dripped onto my face and neck, and as they began chewing and burrowing into my flesh, I awoke with a start.
Chapter 50
Thanks to my visit with Carlos, sleep was out of the question. After thoroughly checking the bed for worms and maggots, I laid back, and stared at the ceiling, waiting for the sun to come up. I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and checked my calendar. With no patients on the book, I had a lot of free time and nothing to do.
My second visit with Dr. Norris was scheduled for today. After a weekend in jail and another terrifying nightmare, it couldn’t come at a better time. I had plenty to talk about.
I closed my calendar and scrolled my Facebook news feed for a few minutes. I saw a few posts about my arrest, but did my best to ignore them. I was about to swipe off when I saw it...
Two people were killed and four others wounded in North Miami Beach last night in a shooting in a park on the east side of the city.
The shooting was reported around 9:30 p.m. at Greynolds Park, located between Dixie Highway and 186th Street.
A helicopter from Dade County circled the area for a time, but a spokesperson for the Dade County Police Department said that investigators believed the incident to be confined to the park and that no threat existed to the community.
No motive in the shooting was immediately known, and the identities of the victims have not yet been released.
The park was hosting the annual Music Fest and attendees sat on blankets and chairs in the camping and picnic areas.
Two victims died at the scene, while the four wounded were taken to a nearby hospital. They were not believed to be in serious condition, according to police.
Ryan Canterley, 35, surrendered to authorities and was taken into custody at the scene. No further information is available at this time.
Another public shooting. I wonder who they’ll blame for this one. My cynical side said, Probably the victims.
After every shooting, the anti-gun advocates got louder and louder. There were protests and marches, TV appearances and social media campaigns, demanding gun-control reform. But the staunch defenders of the Second Amendment were up to the task. They quoted the Constitution, cited studies from areas with the strictest gun laws, and spouted statistics demonstrating that cars kill more people than guns every day.
The battle raged on and my name was brought up in almost every discussion. The gun reform folks had been making noise since my incident with Carlos in the bank, but they’d been getting more vocal with every shooting.
Both sides tried to use my actions to support their causes. I continued to decline interview requests, mainly because William continued to push the book deal notion and because I just didn’t want to get involved.
I rolled over, stretched, and let out a soft groan. That was enough to alert Mandy that I was awake and, before I could react, she was standing on my chest licking my face, wagging her tail, and chirping. I scooped her up off the bed before she had an accident, and w
e went out into the back yard. A few overzealous reporters had camped out front overnight, hoping for another useable sound bite. After Mandy did her thing, we came back in, wrestled around and played fetch for a while. She always had plenty of energy to burn first thing in the morning.
She ate her food then found a comfy spot in the corner and took a nap. I ate a quick breakfast, washed up, and got dressed. As I brushed my teeth, I wondered if the gorgeous woman from last week would be at Dr. Norris’s office again today. I spent a little extra time on my hair.
When I got to her office, I checked in and took a seat in the waiting room. I checked my watch. I’d have my answer in the next four minutes. Time dragged by and when the door finally opened, she stepped out. Only this time, she was a squat middle-aged housewife pushing two hundred pounds. As she shuffled past me, crying, Colleen called my name from the front desk. This time I heard her right away.
“Dr. Norris will see you now.”
Disappointed, I stood and followed Colleen back to the same room as before. Dr. Norris was already tucked into her oversized armchair, shoes resting on the floor. We exchanged pleasantries, then dove right in. I told her about my weekend: being arrested, walked from my office in handcuffs in front of staff and patients, spending the weekend in jail, barely sleeping, signing over my house as collateral for bail, and my latest visit from Carlos.
She was stunned by my arrest and could understand why I might be feeling a little more stressed than usual. I assured her I was no worse for wear physically or psychologically from the experience.
I doubted she believed me.
She scribbled a few notes in her book, then moved on to last night’s dream. She began to explore the possible connection between an earlier dream I’d had in which I was besieged by spiders, and last night’s dream with worms and maggots.
She explained that insects often have their own unique associations, and that sometimes it’s helpful to think about what has been annoying or pestering me.
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