Girl With a Past

by Sherri Leigh James

  “What about Mom?”

  Steven got a pained look on his face. “Hmm . . . mm . . . uh.” He looked at me. “Al, we haven’t found Mom yet.”

  “WHAT?” Waves of panic shot through my body, my limbs began to tremble.

  “Chill!” Steven said. “Shit, I shouldn’t‘ve told you. But she called Dad and said she was okay.”

  I looked at the tubes and cords hooked up to my hand and chest. “What is all this shit anyway? What are they putting into me?”

  “There’s the heart monitor.” He pointed to the machine. My heart felt strong to me; in fact it was racing with panic.

  “Tell them to get it off me.”

  “The nurses said they were planning to unhook it today.”

  “I want it off now.” I looked around the bed trying to find the call button. Steven handed it to me from where it was wrapped around the bed rails. I held my thumb on the button thinking I’d get some immediate response. Nothing happened.

  “Steven, what about drugs? What’s in this thing?” I touched the tube running into my hand and looked at the clear plastic bag that had countless little baggies hanging off it.

  “Sugar water to keep you hydrated and fed and medicine to take down the inflammation and I don’t know what else.”

  “How long’ve I been out?”

  “Two days.”

  That was all. It seemed like a lifetime.

  Oh God, Mom had been missing for two days! “What’s Dad doing about Mom?”

  “The police, of course, and his investigators. And grandpa hired private investigators too.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing. Ab-so-fucking-lutely nothing.”

  I ripped the round heart monitor tape things off my chest. Ow, that stinging hurt as much as my head. “Are there more of these damn things on my back or something?” I sat up, turned my back to my brother and opened the back of my gown.

  “Al, what the hell? We agreed to wait for the doctor.”

  “Uh, no, you suggested we wait for the doctor. I didn’t agree to anything.”

  Steven drew his phone out of his pocket, punched some numbers and spoke to the doctor’s office.

  It must have been the heart monitor flat lining because all of a sudden we had a room full of nurses and medical personnel.

  “The doctor’s office says he’s in the building somewhere. Can you get him?” Steven asked one of the nurses.

  “He’s already been alerted.” The male nurse walked to my bed. “Well, you look pretty good,” he said.

  “I need to get outa here,” I answered.

  “I strongly recommend you take it easy for a bit. Lie back down. You don’t want to get up too fast or you’ll have one hell of a headache,” the nurse said.

  Like I didn’t already.

  A doctor I’d never met before came into the room, ordered people around and everyone but Steven fled the room.

  “Alexandra, I’m Doctor Worthy. My partners and I have been taking care of you.”

  “What about Dr. Fleiss? He’s always been my doctor.”

  “Well, apart from the fact that he’s a pediatrician, and you’re hardly a child anymore, he's also only a GP and you’ve suffered a fairly serious head wound.”

  “Are you a neurosurgeon then?” I asked.

  He had removed the bandage from the side of my head and was inspecting the wound. “Yes.”

  I did my best not to react to the pain he was causing. “I want to go home.”

  “Maybe tomorrow morning we can discuss that. You need some rest before you’re ready for going anywhere.”

  “You don’t understand. I have to get out of here.”

  “No, you don’t understand young lady. You have been in a coma for forty-eight hours. You aren’t going anywhere. In the morning, a physical therapist will see you. We need to assess how much damage has been done with this wound and how to address it.” He scribbled on a chart while he lectured me, then he turned to my brother to make sure that Steven had been paying attention to what he said. “Do you both understand? You may be past the most acute danger, and I’m certainly glad to see you alert. But we are not out of the woods yet.”

  What’s with this we business? You were never in the damn woods. But what came out of my mouth was, “What time will you be here in the morning?”

  “I can’t be specific. I make my rounds after the surgeries I have scheduled for tomorrow morning. But I’ll make sure the physical therapist comes by here first thing so that by the time I get here we’ll know where we stand.”

  There’s that we again.

  He walked out, I heard him talking in the hall. A nurse rushed in and put something in the IV bag.

  As soon as the nurse cleared the door, I turned to Steven. “Are you gonna help me?”

  “Help you do what?”

  “Get outa here.”

  “Al, did you hear anything that doc said?”

  “Steven, Mom is––well, fuck.” A sudden urge to sleep overcame me. I shoulda ripped out that damn IV. Drugged sleep, again.

  “Al, in the morning, I’ll help you all you want. We can’t do anything tonight. Besides, what can we do better than the police? Or Dad’s investigators? You need to get well. Please just get well. Sleep.”

  It appeared I had no choice. Waves of dozing slid in and out even as I listened to his assurances.

  But it wasn’t a restful, peaceful sleep I was pulled into. Faces flashed in and out of view, mad faces, bloody faces, grinning faces, Derek’s light blue eyes set in an equally handsome face, Ted’s friendly smile, an ugly leer through a black hood, a very young beautiful Carol, Dave’s stoned expression, Lauren’s ladylike appearance that few knew hid a free spirit. The last convinced me that Mom was still alive.

  But the experiences of the last few days had brought home to me the fragility of human life, and how quickly, in a flash, life changed. Or ended.

  CHAPTER

  34

  The next morning I wasn’t taking any chances on getting drugged again.

  “Are you gonna take this thing off? Or am I?” I said to the nurse who was fooling with the IV bag.

  “I don’t have any orders from the doctor,” she answered.

  A tall, skinny dark guy entered my room and pointed to the IV stand. “You might want to use that as a support while we walk you around,” he said.

  “I want it off,” I said. “Are you the physical therapist?”

  “Yep.” He nodded at the nurse who slid the needle out of my hand and applied a bandage. “I’ll be back when the nurse is finished.”

  Next out came the catheter.

  The physical therapist returned and introduced himself, told me what we were going to do, put slipper socks with sticky stripes on my feet, and offered his arm to help me out of the bed. We walked very slowly to the door and a short way down the hall. I felt unsure of each step and woosy as hell, but I did my best to tough it out.

  Steven and Dad arrived as we made our way back to the door of my room.

  “Ah, Al, I’m so glad to see you up.” Dad carefully, tenderly kissed my cheek and smiled into my eyes. “I hear you’re anxious to go home. I’ll arrange whatever nursing and security is needed, but of course, by home, you mean to the city, not Berkeley. Right?”

  “Sure Dad.” Wherever. Just get me outa here. This was all so confusing. Dad was Jeff!

  Dad went out to the nurses’ station.

  “Steven, any word?”

  He knew that I meant about Mom. He shook his head.

  “I’m glad I don’t have to break out of here,” I said.

  “You’re not the only one.” Steven grinned. “I wasn’t looking forward to that drama.”

  My doctor arrived. Dad and he discussed what I might need at home, when and where I would have physical therapy while I took my bloody clothes into the bathroom and changed.

  Dad paled when he saw the blood on my sweater and jeans. “Oh, Al, sweetheart. We didn’t think to bring you clean clothes.”<
br />
  “I don’t care Dad.” Standing in the bathroom door, I was suddenly dizzy and still confused. “I’m having trouble remembering what was happening right before, uh, before . . . I think I had some things that were important in my pocket. Yes. What happened to the papers I had with me when I was shot?”

  The nurse stared at me, Dad shrugged his lack of knowledge but Steven spoke up. “I have’em.” Steven pulled a handful of papers and the 8 x 10 photo, all of which he’d folded in half, out of the back of his book. “Sorry about the crease.”

  “Just get me out of here.” I started to the door when a wave of lightheadedness swept over me.

  “Hold it young lady,” the nurse said. “Sit down in that chair while I get a wheelchair.”

  “A wheelchair? I can walk.” I didn’t want Dad or Steven to know that I wasn’t feeling all that strong.

  “Hospital policy.” She walked out the door and I sank into the chair holding my hand toward my brother for the papers and especially for the photograph. I studied the photo of my father and his friends, and started my mental list of what needed to be done.

  CHAPTER

  35

  The ride across the Bay Bridge and through the city was long and painful. Every bump in the road hurt like hell.

  I was exhausted by the time Dad got me to my room in Sea Cliff. The turned down bed was tempting, but I changed into clean sweats and sat down at my computer instead.

  The two security guards Dad had arranged sat on each end of the side terrace watching the front and rear of the house.

  Search engine time. I worked my way down the list of names of the men in the photo. I had managed to know these men for two lifetimes, yet I knew little about their business lives.

  Bits and pieces, comments made by my parents and their friends had told me that Jamie was well respected for his crime fighting legal work and prosecutions.

  I knew that Dave was enormously wealthy from furniture manufacturing in Southeast Asia and retailing in the US, UK, and EU.

  Elliott had some sort of title company. All, but Dave, practiced some form of law. Maybe research as to what the world in general––well, at least the internet world––thought of each of them and the particulars of their businesses would give a hint as to which of them could possibly be involved in murder and kidnapping.

  I tried to ignore the pains in my head and the mental images of a dark figure in a black hood that threatened to distract me from my task. Mom, I reminded myself, Mom has been missing for three days.

  Rather than read each article or blog I found, I printed them off. I was halfway through my list when Steven knocked on my half open door.

  “I thought you’d be in bed,” he said.

  I scribbled the rest of the names on a pad of paper, the names of Dad’s friends from college. Come to think of it, they may have been my friends too. “If you do this search or go through Dad’s address book, I’ll lie down and read.” I picked up my papers from the printer.

  “Sure.” He googled the next name.

  I climbed into bed and started reading.

  CHAPTER

  36

  I tried to remember Derek’s last name. Did I ever know it? Damn, how would I find him? Was he alive? Why had his body never been found? If he hadn’t been killed, he might be able to help.

  “Steven, please google the Zodiac killer and print off a list of his victims. Also, see if Lexi’s date the night of her murder is mentioned, get his name, and google that. His first name was Derek.”

  I continued to read, Steven searched. Twenty minutes later he said, “Got it. Shi-it, I’m good. There are several possibilities, but based on age and education, here’s the most likely.” Steven showed me a phone number and an address.

  He lived in San Francisco. In the same city I grew-up in. I could have run into him at any point in my life. “Let’s go.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Steven, dramatic? Wow.

  “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “Okay, hand me the phone.” I took the phone, dialed the first number on the list of possibilities. Straight to voicemail: “You’ve reached Derek and Lynn. We aren’t available at the moment. Please leave your name and number, and we’ll get back to you.”

  Whoa, he’s married. Why was I surprised? Did I actually think that ever since our one-night stand he’d been pining away for me? “My name is Alexandra Nichols. Derek, please give me a call." I left my number and hung up. Why would he call me back? I wouldn’t call me back, or somebody I didn’t know from Adam. I needed to go see him.

  “Steven, I’m going to give you a note. You’re gonna drop it off at his house.” I thought for a minute. “If he’s not there, see if anyone knows when he will be."

  “Whatever you say.” Steven went to get a jacket, returned to take my note, and closed my bedroom door behind him.

  I tried to read the printouts. We had a number of addresses and a few phones numbers. I tried a second phone number for Derek, another voicemail. I didn’t leave a message.

  We would have to go to the addresses. I didn’t see how we could possibly do any good other than in person. I would have to see him to know if it was the right Derek. When Steven got back, I would have him drive me.

  It was only midday, but I already felt so tired. I dozed.

  I awoke with a start. It was dark in the room. The sky outside my window was black. Damn. I had only meant to nap.

  Oh shit, was Steven okay? Why the hell had I sent him off by himself? I fumbled for the phone, punched numbers with a shaking hand.

  “Where are you?” I asked without preamble.

  “Right here,” Steven said as he walked through the doorway of my room, his phone at his ear. “Just waiting for you to wake up and give me my next instructions.”

  “Why’d you let me sleep?”

  “You needed to rest?” He twisted his head, raising an eyebrow at me.

  “What happened at Derek’s?”

  “Nice place.” Steven flashed a thumbs-up.

  “I don’t need an Architectural Digest report.” God, I had to stop being a douche.

  “He wasn’t there. His neighbor says he usually comes home around five or six.”

  “What time is it now?” I hopped up from my bed and immediately regretted it. I reached for a bedpost to steady myself.

  “Hey, you okay?” Steven caught my arm.

  “I’m fine.” I shook off his hold. “Time?”

  “Almost Six.”

  I grabbed clean clothes as I went through my closet to the bathroom. “Be ready to leave in five.”

  “I don’t think you should be going anywhere,” he said. “Let’s have the investigators check it out.”

  I splashed a lot of cold water on my face, tied a scarf around my head, hippie style, covering the bandage and missing hair, and threw on jeans, a turtleneck, and boots.

  “Let’s go.” I stepped into the bedroom where Steven sat in front of the computer.

  “I don’t think––”

  “Don’t think! Let’s go.” I walked to the doorway. “Or should I drive myself?”

  Steven groaned, but stood and grabbed a jacket from the entry hall on the way out to his jeep.

  I waved to the startled security guards as I walked to Steven’s car. One of them pulled Steven aside and they spoke briefly.

  “I told them to follow us.” Steven said to me as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

  CHAPTER

  37

  Derek’s house was a nice place. Built in the 1960’s version of modernistic International Style, it was tucked into the traditional Pacific Heights neighborhood. Lots of steel and glass faced the bay with an entrance courtyard surrounded by a low concrete wall.

  We rang the bell. A thin slit of glass beside the door showed a slender figure walking to answer.

  “Yes?” Derek stood in the doorway impatiently waiting for us to speak.

  I stared, speechless.

  Seeing
him, decades later, with touches of gray at the temples of his dark hair, blue eyes still startling in his tan face, still as attractive, no––more attractive. And he wasn’t a figment of my imagination. My dreams, my nightmares in the hospital were based on actual occurrences. He was living proof that my dreams had been real. Holy shit!

  But wait, he had no idea who I was. And in my rush to get here, I’d given absolutely no thought to what I was going to say to the man.

  I looked into those amazing blue eyes. “Hi.” I smiled.

  He stared at the young woman on his doorstep. No sign of recognition. Duh.

  Steven spoke, “Sorry to disturb you sir. We think you know our parents from Cal.”

  “Who are your parents?”

  “Jeff and Lauren Nichols.”

  Derek knit his brow, shook his head, and moved the door towards closing.

  "Lexi,” I said. “You do remember her, right?”

  Alarm spread across his face. “What do you want?” The door moved closer to the frame.

  “Look, we’re desperately trying to find our mother. She’s disappeared. We think you might be able to help,” I said.

  “What makes you think that?” He looked each of us in the eye. “I know nothing about your mother.

  “Please, please talk to us. We won’t take much of your time.” I wanted to put my foot in the door, but thought better of it. Wrong message. “If you could just tell us what happened the night Lexi was murdered.”

  “I’ve talked to the police about this. Ask them.” The door inched closer to shut.

  “But their reports say you disappeared that night. Where did you go?”

  “What?” Derek stared, shook his head. “Who are you again?”

  “My . . . our parents were friends of Lexi’s. I was named for her. My name is Alexandra Nichols. This is my brother Steven.”

  Derek searched my face, hesitated. Did he feel it too? The attraction like some giant magnetic force stretched between us. After several moments, he opened the door and waved us in to the entry hall. “We can talk in here.”