by Randy Alcorn
Jake bounded up the steps, turned on the computer, and found the locked files in the subdirectory COD, which he suddenly realized might be Doc spelled backwards. An hour passed and Jake had tried everything from Doc to Sue to the name of Finney’s first dog, brother, eighth-grade teacher, company commander in Nam, mother’s maiden name, name of his church and pastor and dozens of other words. He even tried CSLEWIS, Finney’s favorite author. No luck. It could be anything.
Sue set down a cup of coffee. He cringed at the almost lethal caffeine level already in his system, but sipped it anyway. Maybe it would contain the magic insight LSD users sought in the sixties.
“JAKE?”
“Yeah?”
“No.” Sue laughed. “I mean JAKE. Try JAKE.”
Jake typed in his name and hit the Enter button, not even looking, knowing he would see “The Password is Incorrect. Cannot Open the Document.” Instead, with no fanfare, a screen full of legible material appeared.
“That’s it! We’re in!” Jake felt gratified that in this secret communication between the two friends, it was the third friend who came to Finney’s mind.
“Okay, there’s four documents. The first has a different format. The date’s October 10.”
Jake scanned it and said with some disappointment, “Looks like a theological discussion.”
“They used to go back and forth sometimes. Finney said Doc was more comfortable on a keyboard than face to face. But I wouldn’t think Finney would consider it secret. What does it say?”
Jake started reading. “Okay, this file has both sides of the dialogue. I don’t think you’ll have a tough time figuring out who’s who.” Jake read aloud:
“I want no part of any God who would send people to hell.”
“Do you want any part of a God who suffered and died so any one who accepts his gift can go to heaven instead?”
“No, I don’t. I don’t buy into your idea of heaven and hell anyway.”
“It’s not my idea. I’d never have come up with it. It’s God’s idea.”
“You say ‘God’ but all the evidence says there is no God. This ‘Jesus is the only way’ stuff is just another fundamentalist guilt-producer.”
“I think if what you said were true, you’d have no reason to press your point so hard. You’d be less defensive, less hostile. I feel like you’re trying to convince yourself, not me. Like the louder and longer you say untrue things, the greater the chance you can make them true.”
“What is truth? Truth is relative. It’s whatever you want it to be. You have your truth, I have mine.”
“And if what you call ‘my truth’ turns out to be the truth, how will your truth help you out? In fact, if the Bible is right, your truth isn’t true at all. It’s nothing but wishful thinking. Or worse, it’s a lie from the pit of hell.”
“Get off this hell trip, will you? I’m not going to be intimidated into serving your God. I like being a pagan. If you want to believe all that nonsense to make you feel better—why it would is beyond me—go ahead. I’m signing off, Finn. I’ve had enough for one night.”
Jake looked at Sue, then clicked the computer mouse and again entered his own name as the code. It worked perfectly.
“October 18. This is just Finney’s side of the conversation. Looks like a response to something Doc sent him.” Jake took a deep breath and started reading aloud.
“Doc, thanks for sending me the note. I’m using a password so my copy will remain confidential. Unless you erase our correspondence entirely, you’ll want to do the same.
“I understand your preference talking about this situation on a keyboard rather than face to face. This is a serious dilemma and I want to help you however I can.
“In answer to your question, I believe the only thing to do is to come forward and confess what you’ve done. You say it could mean the end of your career, but your conscience is more important than your career. Infinitely more important. A woman died, and you said what you did would be interpreted as violating your oaths. Built into every person is a sense of accountability, a fundamental belief that good will be rewarded and evil will be punished. God is talking to you, Doc. You’ve got to listen and respond.
“Much as I hurt for you, for your sake I’m glad you can still feel this pain. It means your conscience isn’t seared. But you must act upon it. Our capacity to rationalize is unlimited—I know mine is. Remember how you told me the first abortion was the worst, but after awhile it didn’t affect you anymore? The same will happen with this if you allow it, Doc. You must not allow it. Jesus will freely forgive you, and so will your family and friends. But if you don’t respond to his prompting, you’ll desensitize your conscience. You’ll tell yourself this was okay.
“I’ve honored your wish and haven’t told anyone, even Sue or Jake. I’m in this with you every step of the way. I’ll do everything to help you make the right decision and face the consequences.”
Jake and Sue looked at each other wide eyed. Jake clicked the mouse again and typed in the password.
“Here’s the second one. October 20. Two days later.”
“I understand what you’re saying, Doc, but I can’t agree. From a human point of view it seems to make sense to lie, to cover up. But ultimately it won’t work, because you have to live with yourself and above all, you have to give an account to God. I know Betsy has a Bible. Please look up Jeremiah 17:10 and 1 Peter 4:5. I’m not preaching at you—this is truth you need to hear.
“You can’t protect the other doctor from what he’s done. Yes, by turning in yourself you turn him in. I understand that, but you do him no favor by allowing him to do it again. How many other doctors might get lured into this? I’ll stand next to you, help you personally, help with your family, financially, in any and every way I can. But I beg of you, Doc, don’t let this slide. Please, old friend, in your heart you know what’s right. Do it.”
Sue folded her arms in her bathrobe, chilled by these words. “Jake, I don’t understand. Do you know what they’re talking about?”
“I’m not sure, but I have some ideas. I’ll tell you what I can. First, let’s read the last letter. This one’s October 23, the night before they met at Lou’s for dinner. Just three days before the accident.”
“Doc, thanks for letting me borrow your Suburban. I need a ‘man’s rig’ to move those copy machines. I’m glad you want to talk face to face at Lou’s tomorrow night. But if you’ve made up your mind not to come forward, I implore you to reconsider. You can’t cover up from the one person who ultimately matters. Hebrews 4:13 says, ‘Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before him to whom we must give account.’
“You say you won’t do this again, yet when I ask you if you’ll give back the money, you say it doesn’t work that way, and you may as well keep it. Can’t you see yourself rationalizing? Now that you’ve done this, can’t they keep coming back with attractive offers, or threats to turn you in unless you do it for them again? Only by confessing to the truth can you take away their greatest hold on you. If you don’t go to the police, the situation can only get worse.
“You’re at a crossroads, Doc. It’s not too late to do what’s right.”
Jake stared into the computer screen. Sue gently put her hand on his shoulder. Both were thinking the same thing.
Now it is too late.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
It had been a sleepless night, climaxed with a midnight call to Ollie. Jake made computer printouts at Finney’s and faxed them to Ollie at his home. It was a windfall discovery, maybe the break they needed. Doc had been involved in some unethical medical procedure with a woman. The woman died, of what they didn’t know. Doc had been paid, and another doctor was involved. Who and why? And someone was capable of leaning on the doctors to try to get them to do it again.
So what was it? They were closer to the truth, but still had too many possibilities to keep straight. Maybe Ollie could sort them out. Eventually J
ake would need to get all this info to Sutter. But until he made his regular check-in call, Ollie would have the jump.
The phone rang at 7:20 as Jake was savoring his last half cup of Colombian before heading to a couple of interviews, one of them a biggie. It had to be Winston.
Grabbing the phone, Jake jumped right in, “Yes, Winston, I’m remembering the appointment with the commissioner—anything else you want to nag me about?”
A young uncertain voice broke the moment of silence. “Uh, hello? Dad? Is that you?”
Jake’s cocky jive turned to embarrassed concern. “Carly? Hi, honey. I was expecting someone else. Winston from the paper sometimes calls … never mind. What’s up?”
“Well, I’m afraid it’s more bad news. But you don’t have to race over this time. I’m not … well, I’m not going to do anything stupid. It’s just something I wanted to tell you face to face. Could you drop by sometime? It doesn’t have to be now.”
Jake sensed now was exactly when it had to be.
“Sure, honey. I’ll just make some quick calls, change a few appointments, and—”
“You don’t need to do that, I just…”
“No, sweetheart, I want to do that. I really do. I just need a few minutes. I can be there by 8:15. Is that okay? Will you be all right till then?”
“I’ll be fine, Dad.” The hollow sound in her voice said she was far from fine. “I’ll see you then. And … thanks.” Her voice broke in the middle of the “thanks,” but she hung up before Jake could say more.
Jake’s mind went into warp drive. He wouldn’t allow himself the luxury to think about Carly’s problem till he cleared out his schedule.
Who’s my contact at the commissioner’s office? Jake racked his brain. Oh yeah, Brady. How could I forget? The commish’s banty rooster. He had Brady’s direct office line. He hoped he was already in.
“Jake Woods here, Brady. Listen, I have to cancel my appointment with the commissioner. Something just came up. Sorry. I’ll call back later to reschedule.”
“Mr. Woods,” Brady cleared his throat as if about to say something very important. “The commissioner is a very busy man. Many people are waiting to meet with him. When someone makes an appointment, it is customary that it be kept. I’m afraid it will be a few weeks before we can reschedule.”
“Well, that’s okay with me, Brady. I was thinking of taking a positive slant on the commissioner’s plan to use tax money for the park blocks’ cleanup, but I’m sure I can get an interview tomorrow with Councilman Fredericks. I understand he takes a different position.”
“Wait. One moment. Yes, I have good news, Mr. Woods. I just noticed an opening tomorrow afternoon at two o’clock. Would that be workable?”
“Yes, thanks Brady, that would be workable. More than workable—it would be peachy keen,” Jake said it with a broad grin, mocking the bigger-than-life pasted smile he’d seen Brady shine when he was sending the “everything’s just dandy” message. “Glad that opening just happened to pop up.” Jake’s right index finger punched the disconnect right after the word “up.”
Jake couldn’t resist taking jabs at bureaucrats like Brady. Self-important little weasel. Jake learned long ago how to stroke the ego to get what he wanted. When that didn’t work, veiled threats were the next step. The commissioner was a pompous buffoon, and Brady was his insufferable lapdog, but the project was worthy and, well, it was one more local column. He could use a few winners right about now.
Jake knocked off two other calls just as quickly, then let his mind go where it wanted.
What’s going on with Carly? The news can’t be as bad as last time—it doesn’t get much worse than pregnant and suicidal She sounded really troubled, but not desperate. Is something wrong with the baby?
Jake scanned the room one last time to see what he should bring. There was Finney’s Bible again, right where it had been three weeks ago when he rushed out to see Carly. Jake hesitated, recalling how Carly had seen Finney and his Bible on that newscast and the profound effect it had on her. He picked up the Bible, but he felt silly, as if he were clutching a magic potion or an Old West miracle elixir to cure cholera. With mixed feelings, he put it back on the table.
Jake wove through the traffic and made it to Janet and Carly’s apartment by 8:05. He knocked, expecting Janet to answer. It was Carly.
“Hi, Dad. Thanks for coming. Mom’s already at work. She’s getting off to pick me up at ten.”
“Pick you up?”
“I’m going to the doctor. We decided to get a second opinion.”
“Something’s wrong with the baby?”
“Maybe. We don’t know. But the main problem isn’t the baby. It’s me.”
“What is it, Charli?” His old pet name for Carly, unused for at least three years, popped out, surprising them both.
Carly fidgeted. She looked like someone poised to dive into ice cold water. She’d welcome any reason to postpone this, but her determined look told Jake she was going to go through with it.
“This is awfully hard to say, especially to your father.” Carly took a deep breath and dove in. “They offered us some tests at school, medical tests. I took one. And they say…” She looked away, her eyes showing hurt and hopelessness. “They say I have the HIV.”
Like a wrecking ball swinging from a demolition crane, the words bowled Jake over. “Carly, I… Are you sure?”
“They’re sure. We’re going to a doctor today to find out if they’re right. I think they are.”
Jake wanted to reach out and embrace Carly, but he didn’t feel entitled. So he just stood there uncomfortably, about three feet from her, nervously exchanging glances between her and the floor.
“What makes you think they’re right, Carly?”
“Because Michael, you know, my old boyfriend, he has it. And we … we were together quite a bit.” Carly hung her head. This was tough to say to a father, even a modern liberal father.
Jake felt hurt that some boy was so intimate with his daughter—intimate enough to give her the most dreaded disease—and he had never even met him. Then the anger started to kick in. I don’t even know what this jerk looks like.
Jake wanted to ask Carly where Michael got it, but restrained himself, remembering how angry she was at his response last time. Besides, he figured her need to be listened to was greater than his need to know.
“Honey, I’m really sorry.” Where were the right words when he needed them? He felt so inadequate, even stupid, as he awkwardly put his arms around her at last. The moment he did it seemed clearly right, and he wondered why it was so hard to do the right thing.
Carly stood quietly, soaking in the hug. It warmed Jake that it obviously meant so much to her to be in her daddy’s arms. Once again, at least for this moment, he felt like a real father.
Finally, Jake pulled back. In the stillness, the haunting question rose again, and Jake tried to express it without tipping off the anger he felt. “How is Michael?”
“Michael has AIDS. He’s dying.”
“Full-blown AIDS?”
Carly nodded. “And Dad, you’re going to think I’m really dumb.”
“Dumb?”
“I knew he had the HIV. I knew it.”
“And you still had sex with him?”
Carly withdrew a few inches, hurt at Jake’s bluntness and his obvious agreement that she’d been dumb.
“We used a condom every time. But when I got pregnant, I figured if the condom didn’t stop that, it might not have kept me from getting AIDS. That’s why I took the test. I thought I was okay, but wanted to make sure. I was wrong. I’m not okay.”
“You’re saying Michael knew he had the HIV all along? And he deliberately put you at risk?” Jake was flabbergasted and didn’t try to disguise it.
“At least he was honest enough to tell me,” Carly came to Michael’s defense. “Two other kids at school know they have it and never even told their lovers.”
Jake recoiled at the word lovers. It see
med so out of place coming from his little girl. Shouldn’t such a word be reserved for adults? Carly was just a child, an innocent seventeen-year-old. She’d gotten her driver’s license only eight months ago. How had she been dragged into this world of adult passions and choices? A world where people said they loved someone, then put that person’s life in jeopardy to gratify their own desires.
“Michael first told me about his condition back when we were just good friends. But the more time we spent together the closer we got. One night he started … taking off my clothes.”
Carly’s head dropped again. She was miserable saying this, but she had apparently determined to tell her story to her father.
Jake was just as uncomfortable. Both father and daughter had been taught they weren’t supposed to be embarrassed about this subject. Yet both were, especially under these circumstances.
“I told him I couldn’t have sex with him because of the HIV. He asked if I wanted to. I didn’t know what else to say, so I said ’Yes, but not tonight.’ I guess I was tired of being known as ’The Last American Virgin.”’
Jake’s expression told Carly he didn’t get it.
“That’s the name of a movie—a couple of my friends started calling me that after we rented it. I got so tired of it, I guess I just wanted to sound like I was with it, anyway, so I told Michael yes, I guessed I wanted to have sex. But I thought I was safe saying it. I mean, I didn’t think we’d ever really do it because of the disease.
Jake’s heart broke to hear the desperation and vulnerability in her childlike voice. Carly paused, exploring Jake’s face to see if she should continue. What she saw convinced her she should.
“The next day we went to the school nurse and got condoms. Michael had already told her how I was feeling. She showed us how to put on the condoms. I mean, on a … sort of model, or something. In a school assembly they had a drama where they practiced putting condoms on bananas. Everybody laughed. You should have seen all the jokes in the cafeteria. But when it was just Michael and me and the nurse, it was a lot more uncomfortable.”