Desperate Measures

by Cindy Cromer

  Ginny dismissed her with an impolite wave, dug in her purse to retrieve her cell-phone and turned it on. As it went through the paces of powering up Ginny hoped there’d be a message from Max. Oh, how she missed him already.

  Ginny and Max knew each other such a long time ago. It was a very intense and powerful affair; they couldn’t get enough of each other. Max had a different name in those days but Ginny knew exactly who he was when they reunited. She liked him so much more now. He had confidence and determination, both qualities she found sexy and attractive. His new attitude turned her on more than the bad boy she knew years and years ago.

  An unpleasant thought surfaced but then the waitress placed a cup of coffee in front of her and attempted to ask if she needed anything else until her sandwich was ready. Irritated, Ginny waved her away.

  Prior to the interruption she had troubling thoughts. What were they? Ginny forced herself to focus on what bothered her and then it came to her; the picture. She failed to see why it was so important for Max to have a picture of her niece. Why would he care about her or the rest of them after all these years?

  She knew Gary and his lack of a house-keeping routine. It would be years before he noticed the replacement picture.

  Her phone beeped, she had messages. Surely Max had left a message, not many people had the number of her secret cell-phone. She hit connect to listen to the stored messages in her in-box.

  She hit play and heard. “Ginny, goddamit stop playing your games and call me back! I’m sorry if I offended you last week but you need to know what’s been happening. You could be in serious danger.”

  Ginny laughed before hitting delete. “Screw you, Jack.”

  She listened to the second message. “Ginny, the FBI is trying to locate you. My daughter and your niece’s life are in jeopardy. Get off your high horse and do the right thing for once!” Again she hit delete.

  More furious than ever, Ginny didn’t bother to remotely check her other messages. She turned the device off. Who the hell did Jack think he was? He wasn’t even her full brother. He needed to get off his damn fucking high horse.

  She ate half of the tasteless BLT, paid the bill, and stormed out of the restaurant door with a coffee in her hand. She didn’t need the extra coffee now that her adrenaline was pumped up. She knew she’d make it to Seabrook Island without the need of caffeine to stimulate her to stay awake and alert.

  * * * *

  Drew’s office phone and cell-phone rang simultaneously. He answered the land line. “Chief Porter.” After hearing the report, he slammed the phone down. “Mitch, let’s go now! An ambulance is on its way to the Oceanside.”

  Drew ignored his cell-phone which beeped with a message, assuming it contained the same information he’d just received. He and Mitch grabbed their guns, keys, and badges. During the process, Drew shouted orders. “Mitch, get your ass to the hotel, Scott had no choice but to leave Caitlin alone. Also, some food may have been contaminated. Collect it and call for another deputy to bring it to the hospital. Whatever you do, don’t leave Caitlin by herself.”

  They reached the parking lot and Drew jumped into his car. The squeal of an ambulance siren blared.

  Drew leaned out the open window with one last statement. “I’ll be at the hospital questioning the victim, who I pray is still alive.”

  The rescue vehicle just passed. Drew turned on the flashing blue bullet and took off. The racing ambulance wasn’t too far ahead, he could catch up. He floored the engine only to stomp on his brakes a second later, a goat roamed onto the road. Drew blasted his horn but the sound made the animal more curious. It stood in the middle of the tiny road without a care in the world and glared into the headlights. Some power and authority the flashing blue light had in this situation. Finally, someone yelled and the animal scurried away.

  Out of the populated area, Drew swerved along the winding road, his brakes squealing at every curve, and then the hospital came into sight. At the emergency room entrance, his heart nearly stopped when he saw Scott leap out of the back of the ambulance.

  “Scott, who’s in there? What happened?”

  Scott brushed past him and spoke in choppy sentences. “It’s Tomas and Linda, I’ll explain later, send Mitch to the hotel and make sure Caitlin repeats everything Linda said. Tell Mitch to collect the food.”

  “I already told Mitch to get the food based on the information from the EMTs but what the hell are you saying about Linda?” Drew’s question went unanswered.

  Scott raced behind the gurneys and entered the emergency room.

  * * * *

  Caitlin paced and bit her fingernails, waiting to hear news from Scott. She jumped at the sound of a knock at the door. She backed against the kitchen wall and remained quiet. This wasn’t good, everything had happened so fast. She’d been guarded at all times, now she was alone. She bitched about the security guard at the pool but at this moment she’d welcome his overbearing presence.

  A killer could be at the door. Caitlin looked around for a weapon, anything to provide a defense. Without making a sound, she reached to the counter and found a steak knife. It wasn’t much but better than nothing. The knock came again, louder this time. Caitlin shivered and shrank to the floor.

  “Caitlin, it’s Mitch. Open up!”

  Relief washed over her and she flung the door open. “Mitch, thank God it’s you, come in. Sorry I took so long to answer the door but I panicked for a minute. I thought you were the person threatening me.”

  Mitch apologized. “I should’ve announced myself. I thought Pam and Chris would be here.”

  “They’re at the pool with the kids.”

  “Good, because I need you to tell me what happened.”

  Caitlin recited the conversation verbatim and what led her to believe the food had been poisoned. When she finished, Mitch gathered the trays of food and all the utensils, and then made a phone call.

  * * * *

  Scott followed his best agent and friend into the cavernous well lit emergency center. St. Kitts Hospital had an excellent reputation but Scott wasn’t confident they had the equipment or medicine to handle whatever had rendered Tomas and Linda unconscious.

  As the EMTs wheeled Tomas down a white and brightly illuminated hallway, Scott stepped aside, pulling his phone from his shorts. He debated whether or not to inform Frank with the news. He decided to wait until he heard from the doctor on duty and dropped the phone into his right pocket. The other pocket of Scott’s shorts contained Tomas’s cellular phone.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  The third shift, including airline check-in, cleaning, and security personnel, clocked in for their nightly duties at JFK Airport in New York City. The work timeframe running from late evening to early morning wasn’t ideal, but most employees didn’t complain much. Air traffic consisted of only a few red-eye flights from the west coast and the employees could relax, read, or nod off and still keep up with the duties assigned to them.

  Susan Wheeler walked into the ladies room stall outside the American Airlines gates. Financially strapped but determined to obtain her Bachelor’s Degree in Science and then go to medical school, she chose to work the night shift for two reasons; she had time to study, and the late hours prepared her body for sleep deprivation. Doctors never slept. Their bodies learned to function, sometimes for twenty-four hour stretches, with no shut eye. Especially surgeons. A surgeon couldn’t leave a cut open body on the operating table to take a nap. Could they?

  Susan expected to finish cleaning the ladies room within a half hour, eager to get back to her anatomy and physiology book. Her hopes were dashed when she reached the last stall with an ‘Out of Order’ sign on it. She pulled the door, it didn’t budge. Locked from the inside. She banged on the door and shouted. “Is anyone in there?” She wondered why someone hadn’t reported this earlier. Concerned, Susan peered under the small opening. Someone was inside the stall alright and they weren’t tending to the call of natu
re. Not in that position. Knees hugged the chest, ankles and wrists wrapped with a cord fastened around the waist. Body propped on top of the toilet.

  Susan gasped, debating whether to call for help or crawl under the small passageway. Her potential medical future and mindset forced her to opt for the latter choice. She lay down on the still dirty floor and crawled under the bathroom door. What kind of person ties up an elderly woman? She pressed her fingers between the woman’s wrinkled neck. The cool skin made her cringe but she finally found a pulse. Susan used her cell-phone to call 911 and then airport security.

  * * * *

  Scott tapped his foot in a nervous rhythm and drummed his fingers against the end table in the emergency room waiting area. The doctor finally came out from behind the double doors of the examination bays, the expression on his face unreadable. Scott stood and met the doctor’s steady stare.

  The doctor shook his hand and a smile touched his lips. “Your friends should be fine once they wake up. I had the lab run a complete blood-work on them. We’re slow tonight, so I was able to obtain the results quickly. What showed in the toxicology screen was a very high dosage of a drug called Luminal, or Phenobarbital. Your friends will be out for at least eight to ten hours. They shouldn’t have any long term effects other than a headache and tiredness the next couple of days. Tomas Medina ingested a lower dosage and may rouse sooner. Both of their vital signs are perfect. They’re just taking a very long nap at this point. I’m still waiting on the results of the food Chief Porter sent over.”

  “Thank you, doctor,” Scott choked.

  Elated with the news the doctor had given him, Scott shook his head in confusion. It didn’t make sense that Tomas ate less than Linda. Granted the guy was set up and told not to eat anything but when Linda started eating, why didn’t Tomas? Tomas would eat anything and was always hungry. He wasn’t overweight by any means. The man ran every day to keep himself in shape, every FBI agent did. Linda was small and petite, she ate very little. How in the hell could she have eaten more than Tomas? He pulled his phone out of his pocket. Before he made the call, Scott forced himself to push aside the ridiculous notions and thoughts that ran through his mind.

  On the first ring Caitlin answered. “What’s happening, are they all right?”

  Scott relayed the diagnosis and then asked a question. “They both have Luminal in their systems, ever heard of it?” Scott tried to sound casual but he couldn’t quite mask the suspicion in his question.

  “Of course I have. It’s a sedative. Mitch sent the food over to the hospital to be tested.”

  “I know,” Scott said coolly.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Caitlin screeched.

  “Nothing, I’m sorry, just distracted by all of this. Listen, are Pam and Chris there?”

  “Yes of course, and Mitch too. The kids are asleep in our bed. Raoul took Isabel to her grandmother’s house for the night. Mitch is in Tomas’s room. Pam and Chris are going to sleep in Chad and Alexandra’s room but of course Barry won’t know that.” She laughed but Scott remained silent and didn’t respond to the simple joke. “What aren’t you telling me dammit?”

  “Nothing, I’ve told you everything. I’m going to stay here tonight at the hospital. I want to be here when one of them wakes up so I can get some answers. I love you.” Scott hung up the phone, guilt crept up on him but he had to keep his head straight and sort out the facts. He needed to talk to Tomas. He needed details.

  Scott berated himself for the suspicions swirling in his head. Something didn’t sit well in his investigative mind. Caitlin was the one to alert everyone that the food might be poisoned. Tomas consumed the least amount of the drug. It didn’t make sense. Not the tainted food, the situation. What the hell had happened?

  * * * *

  Dr. Bridges, the emergency room physician on duty at Jamaica Hospital Medical Center in New York City, checked the heart rate and pulse. He lifted eyelids to examine the listless eyes. He shouted at the nurse, ordering a full blood scan and EKG. He stomped out of the examination cubicle toward the nurse’s station to complete the necessary paperwork. A police officer waited at the counter.

  * * * *

  Bitter and unambitious, a few weeks away from retirement and past the point of giving a shit anymore, Officer Stan Lipton resented being called to investigate this matter. He wouldn’t be on this godforsaken shift if he hadn’t traded with one of his fellow officers last week. He had at least accomplished some rank during his miserable career with the New York Police department and managed to obtain the 7:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. slot. Tonight, he had to deal with some old lady found in the airport bathroom with no ID. Most likely had a heart attack from having her purse stolen by some drugged out creep.

  Stan knew he shouldn’t be so judgmental and should keep an open mind. His attitude held him back from rising to detective but he didn’t care.

  He had to go through the formalities and write up a report. The asshole brass could take it from there. Stan held out his badge with about as much enthusiasm as the doctor showed in looking at the piece of metal.

  Stan asked, “What can you tell me about the patient who was brought in from JFK?”

  With a command of authority, Dr. Bridges slapped his clipboard on the counter and removed his reading glasses. His demeanor made it clear that he had much more important things to attend to than answering questions from a frumpy, disorganized officer.

  Dr. Bridges lectured Stan. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re in the ER. It’s Saturday night in New York City. What do you think that means? In a few hours, this place will be loaded with gunshot wounds and drunks who’ve beaten each other up. And let’s not forget the car crashes. I’ll make this brief. The victim came in with no identification, appears to be eighty or so, probable drug poisoning, vitals are steady and her condition is stable. Won’t know anything further until the lab tests come back. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get to the patients who need my help.” Dr. Bridges seemed to have as much sympathy for the semi-comatose woman as Stan did.

  Stan saluted the doctor and chose his last statement to deliberately piss him off. “Thank you, Sir. We’ll need to get those lab results once they’re in.” With a sharp turn, Stan walked toward the bank of elevators, managing to catch the doctor’s retort.

  “That’s doctor to you, Officer!”

  Hospital visit completed, Stan hoped he never came under the care of Dr. Bridges. The guy was an asshole and exemplified the God Syndrome stereotype given to doctors.

  Stan decided to burn a couple of hours over several cups of coffee and maybe some over easy eggs and bacon. His favorite all night greasy spoon diner was a few blocks from the hospital. After a cholesterol-filled meal, maybe he’d return to headquarters. That was a big maybe. What’s there to log into the computer? Not much information on this one, a wasted trip to the hospital. He’d drop off the hand-written notes. Yes, that would do it, and then he’d clock out. He could sleep for a couple hours and still go fishing.

  * * * *

  Ending the brief and cold conversation with his wife, Scott knew he had to report to Frank. The director needed to be informed of what had happened to Tomas. He made the call and outlined the situation.

  “Holy fucking shit! What the hell’s going on down there, Scott?” Frank bellowed into the phone.

  “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know at this point. Tomas should be awake in a few hours. The local police and the PIs from BS Investigations are providing coverage and protection.”

  “Listen here, if those dimwit island cops and the goddamn PI from your father-in-law’s company solve this, yours and Tomas’s asses are in a sling! You hear me?”

  With too much on his mind, Scott hung up the phone without a word in response. He opted to not get into a pissing match with the FBI director.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Caitlin’s mind whirled. She couldn’t get herself to unwind or sleep more than an hour’s stre
tch of time. The horror of the week replayed over and over again. At five in the morning, she turned onto her back and surrendered to insomnia.

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed and covered up her sleeping children. Caitlin padded barefoot into the kitchen. Sleep eluded her, so she might as well start the day with a cup of instant coffee. She opened the door before the microwave dinged. No sense waking everyone else up.

  Caitlin opened the heavy glass sliding door to the terrace, took her coffee and cell-phone outside, and stared at the inky blue-black clear sky. Soothing waves lapped against the sandy beach. Bright stars twinkled like diamonds. In forty-five minutes, the sun would ascend above the water, diminishing the intensity of the full moon which cast a bright yellow glow onto the surface of the dark calm ocean.

  Caitlin sipped her coffee, still confused and hurt over the events that transpired. She tried to make sense of her friend Linda’s betrayal and the odd behavior her husband exhibited in the brief phone call. Linda couldn’t have tried to poison Caitlin. Could she? What if the children, Linda’s own daughter, had eaten some of the food?

  Her husband baffled her further. She detected something in Scott’s voice on the phone last night. He sounded so cold. Caitlin set her empty cup on the side table and settled her head on the lounge chair. The sea air had a tranquilizing effect and she dozed off.

  Morning dawned and the sun rose over the horizon with a brilliant burst of orange, a fireball. The rays shone directly on Caitlin. Six forty-five in the morning. A longer nap than she thought possible. In a reflexive move, she swiped her hand across her forehead to wipe away beads of perspiration.

  Caitlin heard a chirp, chirp, not a bird but an electronic sound. The noise came from the side table, her cell-phone with a voice mail. It sat next to the empty coffee cup. A lot of good the coffee did. She slept through the whole sunrise and the ringing phone. She snatched the phone. How the hell didn’t she hear it ringing? Flipping open the cover answered that; a text message from the realtor, Laura Evans, handling the sale of the warehouse.