by Rachel Woods
Originally, the five civil rights proponents created the PC-5 to organize and fund protest marches. They’d staged several uprisings where oppressed, and marginalized native St. Killians were armed with guns the PC-5 had brokered in deals with South American drug cartels.
The five freedom fighters had forayed into illegal and illicit activities to bankroll their mission of independence. Freedom meant access to good schools, adequate housing, jobs and a greater presence in the island’s government affairs.
However, after independence was won, the descendants of the PC-5 decided to exploit the criminal connections made by their ancestors. Through threats and violence, they expanded their illegal enterprise which currently was centered around gambling, drugs, prostitution and protection rackets.
A Handweg Hoodlum from birth, Grady had started off as a lookout, watching for cops during PC-5 drug deals. He became a mule next, carrying drugs from stash houses to the streets, and then, through a series of violent acts of self-promotion, he became a faction leader and was put in charge of a crew comprised mostly of mules and lookouts under his direction.
Noelle suspected unrelenting ambition had gotten the best of him. Looking to move up in the PC-5, he probably hoped to rule the gang’s St. Killian operations. Fifteen years ago, when she was entranced by his intimidating swagger and thought she might be falling in love with him, Grady used to share his dreams of rising to the top of the PC-5, running the entire organization.
A ridiculous pipe dream. Grady had to know he would never be more than a high-level faction leader. Top tier leadership positions—like the head of the St. Killian PC-5—were reserved exclusively for legacy members. Referring to themselves as thugs-in-law, they were blood descendants and relatives of the gang’s original “founding five.”
“So, Dr. Bean,” Grady said, saying her title as though he thought it was a dubious distinction. “You gonna help me out? Surely by now, you’ve made your decision. I’ve given you more than enough time.”
“I already told you,” Noelle said, prepared to stand her ground. “I can't help you. What you want me to do is illegal.”
“It’s not illegal to fill a prescription,” said Grady, leaning against the door jam, his tone casual, as though he weren’t asking her to do something that would risk her livelihood.
“It’s illegal when it’s a prescription written by a fake doctor,” Noelle said. “It’s illegal when the customer doesn’t really need the medicine.”
The scam wasn’t just illegal; it was crazy. Grady wanted her to fill bogus prescriptions for highly-addictive opioids, like OxyContin, Vicodin, and hydrocodone.
According to Grady, it would be a simple and easy system. He would have someone in his crew bring her several prescriptions. She would fill them, and the crew member would take the powerful pain medication back to Grady, who planned to sell them.
Advancing toward her, Grady stopped inches away, close enough to smell his nicotine-scented breath and the cheap cologne he’d never stopped wearing.
“Mrs. Bean, you need to think about what you’re going to do,” Grady said. “There’s a wrong decision and a right decision you can make. The right decision can put a little cash in your pocket while you’re helping out an old friend.”
“I’m not your friend.”
“You used to be,” he said, stepping closer, forcing her to step back. “We used to have some good times together Nobody.”
“I’m not Nobody,” she said, glaring at him.
“Yeah, I guess you think you’re somebody now,” he said. “You went to college, and now you have a good job and a family. You need to think about your family. They need you to be somebody. But, if you make the wrong decision, you won’t just be nobody, you’ll be nothing. I’ll make sure of that.”
Trembling with rage, she held his gaze. In Handweg Gardens, if you looked away from an opponent, enemy or rival, you were considered weak. Grady had to know she wasn’t afraid of him. He couldn’t break her with scare tactics.
“I’ll give you another week to make the right decision,” Grady said. “Don’t make your husband and your little boys suffer for your stupid mistakes.”
After another cruel smile, he turned and strode toward the door.
Anger rushing through her, Noelle grabbed a stapler from her desk and hurled it at the back of Grady’s head. The staple gun hit its target, striking with a dull thud.
Grady spun around and was on her in an instant, hitting her across the face, a vicious back-handed slap, sending her across the small office.
Banging against a tall file cabinet, Noelle fought to get her bearings as terror replaced the anger. Why had she hit Grady? She knew how violent he could be; she remembered the times when he would—
Grady’s hand clamped around her neck, pressing into her throat as he pinned her against the file cabinet. Eyes wild and furious, he glared at her. “That was a stupid thing to do, Dr. Bean,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice a low growl. “You better be glad I need your help, or I would break your damn neck.”
Struggling to breathe, her heart thundering, Noelle looked away from his enraged gaze. She no longer cared if he thought she was weak. She just wanted him to release her, to let her live to see Beanie and the boys again.
Attacking him had been a dumb move; a Handweg Ho reaction—one that could have gotten her killed.
With a grunt, Grady removed his hand and shoved her. “Crazy bitch,” he muttered on his way out.
Rubbing her neck, Noelle coughed and then took deep breaths. Even though she shook uncontrollably, she felt paralyzed, not sure what she should do next. Putting one foot in front of the other, the very act of moving from the spot where she was rooted seemed daunting.
After a few more coughs, she cleared her throat. Grady’s endeavor couldn’t be accomplished. She would be caught and end up in jail, away from her family. And then she would be nothing, a nobody once again.
Grady’s cruel threats against Beanie and the boys were horrifying, but no matter what, she could not let Grady hurt her family. She had to do whatever it took to protect them. Even if whatever it took meant breaking the law.
With a shuddering breath, feeling helpless and hopeless, Noelle sank to the floor and sobbed.
Chapter Eleven
Listless and lethargic, Noelle shuffled into the kitchen.
Last night, still trembling and terrified from Grady Palmer’s attack, she’d feigned a headache to avoid Beanie and the boys. Beanie sensed her distress and told her he would take care of getting the boys fed and off to bed while she relaxed. His compassion and understanding touched her. She didn’t deserve his sensitivity, but she took advantage of it and hurried into the shower.
As the hot pounding spray of water drowned out her sobs, Noelle berated herself, feeling like a fraud. Helen Farber had been right about her—she was a con woman, pretending to be something she wasn’t, a successful professional unencumbered by a past she should have known would come back to haunt her.
Eventually, she recovered enough to towel off and slip into a pair of pajamas. Unable to bring herself to kiss the boys goodnight, she’d crawled into bed, drowning in hopelessness. Hours later, when Beanie slipped in next to her, she allowed him to wrap his arms around her. Unable to resist his comfort, Noelle had resolved to deal with her problems the next day.
Noelle exhaled, irritated by the bright sunshine streaming through the kitchen windows. She’d continued the headache ruse this morning. Even though Noelle wasn’t scheduled to work today, Beanie agreed to leave early to drop the kids off at her mother’s house before he went to work.
Sniffing, Noelle wiped away tears before they had a chance to fall. She hated lying to her husband, but what choice did she have? She couldn’t tell Beanie about Grady Palmer’s threats. He would demand to know why Grady had come to her with his illegal proposal and she couldn’t tell him the truth. Couldn’t tell him about her past with Grady. She couldn’t tell him about her past—period.
If Beanie kne
w the truth about her, he might not trust her anymore. He might not think she was good enough to be the mother of his children. The familiar dread passed through her, almost bringing her to her knees. What if Beanie left her? What if he took the kids from her? She wouldn’t survive. She would die without her children.
Taking a deep breath, Noelle forced herself to calm down. She couldn’t drive herself crazy jumping to wild conclusions. Beanie wasn’t going to leave her, and she wasn’t going to lose her children because she was going to deal with Grady Palmer. Someway. Somehow.
After starting the coffee maker, she leaned against the counter. She was thankful for the day off, and yet she couldn’t bear the thought of being alone with her helpless lament, surging anger, and confusion. Usually, on her days off from the pharmacy, Noelle would be energized and enterprising, running errands, preparing lesson plans and lecture notes. She had a feeling today would be wasted ruminating on Grady Palmer’s unreasonable demands.
Finished with her first cup of coffee, Noelle decided to tackle the dishes Beanie had left in the sink. Staring at the dirty ceramic plates, she guessed the boys had been treated to frozen pizza. Noelle couldn’t help but smile. Whenever Beanie made dinner for the kids, he conveniently forgot to add vegetables to the meal.
She opened the dishwasher and then grabbed the first plate from the pile.
Beneath the plate, a large butcher’s knife lay on top of a plastic cutting board.
Red smears stained the blade.
Hands shaking, Noelle picked up the knife. Was it a sign? Did she really have to kill Grady Palmer? Was that the answer? She’d thought about ending his life. Maybe killing the bastard was the only way to get him out of hers. But, could she really do it? Could she put a knife in his chest? Did she have a choice?
Heart slamming, Noelle turned away from the sink.
When she was younger, before she left St. Killian for a better life, she’d done terrible things. She’d made bad decisions and had gotten caught up in dangerous situations, but … she’d never killed anyone. Was she even capable of murder?
If it meant saving her family then … she would have to.
Turning back to the sink, Noelle stared at the stainless steel blade. Pomegranate seeds. Beanie must have made the boys pomegranate smoothies, their favorite. Noelle took a deep breath. She put the knife and the remaining dishes in the dishwasher, then closed the door and set it to run.
She was heading to the coffee maker for a second cup when the doorbell rang. Who the hell? Pinching the bridge of her nose, she contemplated ignoring the door but then decided the visitor might be a welcome distraction.
As she opened the door, for a split second, panic washed over her. What if Grady Palmer was at her door?
“Dr. Noelle Bean?” asked a young, skinny, tawny-skinned St. Killian guy wearing khaki Bermuda shorts and a polo shirt with the logo: PCI Deliveries.
“Yes?” Curious and confused, Noelle tightened the belt on her robe. “I’m Dr. Bean.”
“Delivery for you,” said the guy, handing her a #10 envelope.
After signing for it, Noelle barely mumbled her thanks and closed the door. The chill of dread increasing within her, Noelle stood in the foyer, staring at the return address: Alexio and Gaston, Attorneys at Law. Frowning, her heart rate climbing, Noelle opened the letter.
After reading it once, she had to read it again, and then a third time. Still, she didn’t understand what the hell was going on. Barely able to breathe, Noelle read the letter a fourth time. Was this some kind of joke? Heat spiraled up her neck, scorching and stifling.
Furious, she stared at the letter, tempted to shred it to pieces. She didn’t know why the hell this letter had been sent to her, but she was for damn sure going to find out.
Chapter Twelve
“Where the hell is Eamon?” Noelle demanded, stalking toward the front counter. The startled pharmacy tech, who was counting the till at the cash register, stammered something that sounded like storage room.
To the far right of the counter, at the door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY, Noelle swiped her access badge. Grabbing the knob, she yanked the door open and headed behind the counter, her anger increasing with each step.
Once the shock and confusion of the letter had worn off, seething rage had taken over Noelle as words and phrases from the attorney circled in her mind like buzzards over carrion.
My name is Attorney George Gaston … Our firm represents Mr. Eamon Taylor. Recently, Mr. Taylor has retained our firm … informed our firm that you have been transmitting harassing messages of a sexual, lewd and salacious manner via electronic mail … he decided to forgo causing any embarrassment to the company, yourself or your family … please contact our firm … We thank you in advance … and look forward to hearing from you immediately to remedy this grievance.
Behind several shelving units, at the rear of the dispensary, Noelle found Eamon, another pharmacy technician, and a part-time pharmacist at the back counter laughing as they filled prescriptions from the overnight queue.
As she stomped toward the trio, the pharmacy tech glanced over her shoulder, saw Noelle and began to smile, but wasn’t quite able to complete the action.
“Dr. Bean?” The pharmacy tech stared at her, wide eyes confused. “What are you doing here? I thought—”
“Eamon,” Noelle called out to him, pointing the letter at him. “What the hell is this?”
Eamon’s shoulders slumped and then squared before he faced her. His face impassive, he stared at her.
“What the hell do you mean by having these asshole lawyers send me this bullshit letter?” Noelle stalked closer to him, ignoring the furtive, bewildered stares of the tech and the part-time pharmacist who both shrank back, seemingly unsure of what they should do.
Glancing back and forth at their frightened co-workers, Eamon said, “I don’t think we should discuss this right now.”
“I don’t give a damn what you think,” Noelle said, jabbing the letter toward him. “You are going to tell me what the fuck you are trying to pull with these ridiculous lies!”
Flinching, Eamon stepped back. “I’m not lying. You know what you did. I have proof.”
“You have proof of something I didn’t do?” Noelle asked. “Because you know that I didn’t send you any—”
“Dr. Bean, please …” Eamon cut her off. “I don’t think we need to discuss this in front of—”
“So, what the hell is your plan?” Noelle demanded. “You’re going to sue me?”
“Did you read the letter?” Eamon asked. “I don’t want to sue you. I want to work this out. I want—”
“You want to ruin my life!” Noelle said. “You want to destroy my career and everything I’ve worked for! Why, Eamon? You want my job? Is that it?”
“I don’t want your job, Dr. Bean,” Eamon insisted. “I am very happy with my job—”
“Which you only have because of me!” Noelle reminded him. “I chose you out of all the applicants. I chose you over applicants who were probably more qualified than you! Nevertheless, I saw something very enterprising and industrious in you, but I was obviously completely wrong about you!”
“Dr. Bean, I appreciate that you believed in me,” Eamon said. “But, if you think that I owe you because you gave me a job—”
“All I ever asked or wanted was for you to be appreciative of this job …” she said. “And to work hard and—”
“You wanted way more than that, Dr. Bean … you wanted more than I can give you,” Eamon said. “You wanted way too much, and I can’t let you get away with what you’re doing. It’s wrong.”
“You know what, Eamon,” Noelle said. “I don’t know what kind of scam you’re trying to pull, but it’s not going to work! You are not going to ruin my life!”
“I am not trying to ruin your life or your career, Dr. Bean,” Eamon said. “I don’t want to sue you and drag your name through the mud which would embarrass your family.”
“Don’t pretend like you
give a shit about my family or me,” Noelle said.
“You know what, Dr. Bean?” Scowling, Eamon took a step toward her. “I’m trying to be civil about this, but I could have been ruthless and cutthroat. I could have been a straight-up Handweg Hoodlum, but I decided not to because I believe we can resolve this situation calmly and rationally.”
“Calmly and rationally?” Noelle shook her head. “How the hell can I be calm and rational when you are a lying piece of shit accusing me of something I would never do?”
“Obviously, we’re not going to be able to have a civil conversation about this right now,” said Eamon. “I think the best thing would be for you to contact my lawyers and—”
“Here’s what would be the best thing for you to do, Eamon,” Noelle said. “Watch your damn back. You messed with the wrong person! Don’t ever try to dig a grave for me because you will be the one who gets buried in it!”
Chapter Thirteen
“Son of a bitch!” Beanie ranted, pacing across the kitchen. “Who the hell does he think he is? He can’t get away with this bullshit! He’s a damn liar!”
At the center island, Noelle focused on chopping florets from the head of broccoli she planned to steam as a healthy compliment to the mashed potatoes and goat fritters.
Noelle agreed. The son of a bitch couldn’t get away with his bullshit lies. She was just as enraged as Beanie was, but not about the same person. Beanie was kvetching about his editor, Leo Bronson, who had ripped the entire reporting staff a new one today. As she chopped, lulled by the rhythm of the knife against the cutting board, Noelle tried to pay attention to Beanie, but her mind kept wondering.
She couldn’t stop thinking about the letter from Alexio and Gaston, Attorneys-at-Law. Shoved into the back of her jeans, the offensive missive felt as though it was burning a hole in the denim.
“Babe, you okay?”
Glancing up, she said, “Yeah … I’m fine.”