“So where to, Miss?” Jack said, his gaze drifting momentarily from the instrument panel to find her eyes.
“St. Louis. I hear the shopping there is marvelous this time of year,” she said.
“St. Louis it is.” Jack inputted data into the onboard GPS, and the Beechcraft acquiesced with a gentle turn westbound.
The trip was uneventful. The landing at Spirit of Saint Louis Airport was impeccable. Claire’s cousin Jill had been contacted from the airplane and was waiting with Lauren, her four-year-old daughter. Claire and Nick would be staying with them for the duration. Good-byes were said, and Jack took off again, this time to the east.
• • •
Probably Rat Poison, Jack thought, his cockpit becoming inundated with thick smoke. Fortunately, he was ready for this mishap. Hidden in the airplane within reach was a mask that Jack immediately placed over his face. Although Jack couldn’t see much of his immediate surroundings, the airplane’s autopilot continued to fly smoothly and straight ahead. Jack groped blindly for the small window of his cockpit and opened it. Despite the blanket of thick smoke, he managed to turn on all the fans.
Still sightless, he stretched over and fumbled with the latch on the passenger-side door, which, with a small struggle, he managed to push open. This allowed the smoke to escape from the airplane as the poisonous gas quickly dissipated into the atmosphere and out of the airplane. Once he could see the instrument panel, Jack took over the controls of the airplane and caused the aircraft to stall. This he accomplished by creating a set of conditions whereby the airplane could no longer sustain adequate lift. Without appropriate interventions to correct the problem, the aircraft would spiral downward and fall out of the sky.
During flight training, stall maneuvers are practiced multiple times to teach the student pilot how to avoid the situation and, if it was ever to occur, how to recover from it. This time, though, Jack’s intention was to create a full stall and give the impression that he was a dead duck and that a crash was imminent. He would spiral earthbound in a full stall, dive into the thick cloud cover below him at thirty-five hundred feet, quickly recover from the stall, and land safely. That was the plan. If it worked, hopefully Lagrange would buy this as a plane crash and leave him alone, at least for a while. The problem was that Jack had never entered a full stall before. He theoretically knew what to do but was yet to be put to the test.
The Beechcraft Bonanza plummeted three thousand feet, punching through the cloud cover and spiraling out of control. The throttle had been pulled back to minimum, but the aircraft hurled toward the ground at over 250 knots per hour, far exceeding prescribed safety limits. Jack pushed hard on the rudder pedal and pulled on the yoke, compelling the airplane to fly straight again. His white knuckles gripped the controls as he performed the maneuver, but mercifully soon the airplane fully recovered from the stall. Jack took a deep sigh of relief as he inputted the necessary commands for the autopilot to take over the flight.
Air traffic control had been attempting to contact Jack, but he had disregarded their hails, hoping to give Lagrange the impression that he had crashed. Despite the cold rage inside him, Jack was able to make a meticulous approach, landing in Evansville by using a different tail number. Though illegal to do so, he would later contact the tower personnel and explain the incident.
As he sat in the airplane now on the tarmac, Jack looked at his hands. They quivered uncontrollably like never before. It’s over now, he thought, taking deep, calming breaths. I’ll find you, Lagrange. And you will pay for this.
If, in fact, Lagrange bought into the crash scenario, this would give Jack a slight edge but not for long. It would be difficult, perhaps impossible, to have the local news agencies report on a plane crash that never occurred. He would entertain this possibility and enlist Susan’s assistance, if she felt this was advantageous.
Once the Bonanza was in the hangar, Jack exited the structure, but first he pulled out one of his hairs and trapped it on the hangar door approximately two feet from the ground. A small portion of the dark brown hair hung there partially visible at knee level, visible only if one knew to look for it. The door was locked, although this hadn’t stopped the perpetrator before.
Jack first called the airport tower. He had a lot to report, explain, and debrief. There would be forms to fill out, statements to provide, and papers to sign. His Lexus sped out of the airport parking lot, but not before he inspected the vehicle and every nook and cranny top to bottom, back to front.
“Honey, I’m on the ground, but do I have a story to tell you!” said Jack into his throwaway.
CHAPTER 29
Susan sat at the edge of her seat as Jack explained the airplane incident and how he barely got out alive. On the speakerphone, Claire listened in, gasping with horror here and there as the story unfolded.
Susan, by then aware, enlightened the others about the janitor and how he had rescued Amelia.
“He’s obviously off the list of possibilities,” said Jack.
“What if he’s Lagrange but rescued Amelia to get us off his scent?” asked Susan. “Remember, his objective isn’t to kill Amelia. It’s to ruin, maybe kill you, Jack. He may have infiltrated the FBI.”
“How can we rule him in or out?” asked Claire.
“I’ll check with the FBI, but let’s not rule him out just yet,” said Susan. “Nonetheless, he’s lower on the list now than he had been.”
Jack pulled out the infamous list from his pocket, the record showing the names of people who had begun employment at Newton Memorial Hospital over the last three years.
“There are still several possibilities,” he said. On the list were eight names yellowed out with a magic marker. He placed the paper on the table and turned it so that Susan could see it. She picked it up and examined it.
“The question is how we dissect this and start ruling people in and out. We’ll have to go one by—”
“No way!” said Jack exultantly. “No freaking way.”
“What is it, Jack?” asked Claire.
Susan put the paper aside and found Jack’s eyes. “What are you thinking?”
“It can’t be that easy, can it?” said Jack. He grabbed the list from Susan’s hands and circled a name on it. He placed the paper up against a nearby window in reverse to allow the outside light to illuminate the document. This facilitated reading the marked letters backward.
“Susan, what do you see?”
“No way!” exclaimed Susan, reading the circled name’s mirror image. She shook her head slowly. “It can’t be that easy. It never is.”
“The two of you are driving me crazy. What are you seeing?” begged Claire on the cell phone.
“Nai Trepur is Ian Rupert backward,” said Jack, smiling. “Could it be a coincidence?”
“Nope,” said Susan. “No way this is a coincidence.”
“Ian Rupert, as in the doctor who invented Rat Poison, who was killed three years ago? Who used to be Lagrange’s boss?” said Claire.
“The one and the same. He’s the one Simon Lagrange is revenging. It has to be Nai Trepur. He fits the bill. He joined the security forces at Newton Memorial recently. He’s always hanging around the clinic and hospital,” said Jack.
“Why would he use that name and take the chance of being discovered from that alone?” said Susan.
“I can answer that one,” Claire piped in. “This man has a definite sense of superiority. He thinks he’s above the law and smarter than everybody. This is part of the syndrome. He’s a narcissist.”
“Kate called me earlier today,” said Jack. “She was intrigued by the fact that the calls from the man had stopped after the barn explosion. And she believes he was at the scene.” He took a deep breath. “Do we have enough to bring him in for questioning?”
“I’ll call Detective Brad Mills right now and explain everything to him. I’m sure he’ll agr
ee it’s time to have a chat with Monsieur Nai Trepur,” said Susan. “If it’s him, he really did a good job disguising himself,” commented Claire.
“Amazing what bariatrics and plastic surgery can do for you,” said Jack.
“Even his voice sounds different,” said Susan.
“I’m sure he had surgery there, too. He had a lot of money,” said Jack. “And a lot of hate in his heart.”
“Soon every law-enforcement agent will be looking for him,” said Susan. “We’ll get him.”
“You leave this to the cops, Jack,” said Claire. “Don’t go looking for him yourself.”
CHAPTER 30
Although Claire had begged him to lay low awhile, there was urgency to what Jack felt had to be done next.
The outpatient clinic nursing staff, except for Kate Fanning, assembled in the large lunchroom at Jack’s request. Kate had been given time off to be with her family and recuperate from the horror she had recently endured.
“The office is closed today and until further notice. We need as many people as we can get to call patients and go through charts. I’ll get as many residents and fellows as I can to help us with this task. The situation is this: A man by the name of Simon Lagrange coerced Kate Fanning to go to several patients’ homes and change their medications. He abducted her younger sister and told Kate to do this, or he’d kill Amelia. We think that Simon himself has made some of these house calls as well. These med changes have caused several of my patients to die. We need to identify the patients, call them, and get them back on the right medication schedule. I need to see them in the office or emergency department today or tomorrow, no later. I have a list of people, but it may be a partial list.” He handed the list to his office manager. “Shalyn will be in charge. Any questions?” Jack continued to stand, surveying the room. He exited the break room and headed for his office. Behind him, a swarm of nurses prepared for the task ahead.
“Mr. Leones? This is Dr. Jack Norris. I need you to print a story on the front page of your newspaper.” Jack also contacted the television newsrooms to engage them in the process as well.
By that evening, multiple patients had been contacted. Either Kate or Lagrange had visited twenty-five patients and had their prescriptions changed drastically. Seven had died unexpectedly. Eight had already experienced some disturbing symptoms and were advised to meet Dr. Norris in the emergency department at Newton Memorial. The ED personnel had been informed of the situation and were expecting the onrush. Dr. Norris visited each of them in the hospital as he oversaw the process. He explained the whole affair to the patients and their families. Some of the patients were admitted for observation as they were returned to their previous stable medical regimen. The patients who as yet exhibited no symptoms were told to resume the medications as before and were given outpatient appointments with Dr. Norris for the next day.
“Good work, everybody,” said Jack that evening as he again stood in front of the office personnel. “Between your efforts here and the TV and newspaper, hopefully we’ll have everybody back on track in no time.”
Shalyn rushed into the room. “There are three patients on the list we haven’t been able to account for.”
“Everybody counts,” said Jack. “Let’s all of us come together to find a way to contact these folks. There’s got to be a way to find them.”
CHAPTER 31
The cell phone rang while Jack was reviewing a stack of charts on his desk. He had just talked to Claire and right before that, Susan. The call intrigued him. He stopped leafing through the documents and fished the cell phone out of his pocket. It was a number he did not recognize.
“Bonjour, Dr. Jack Norris,” said a voice with a thick French accent. “So you survived the plane crash, huh?” Now the voice had a hint of a southern drawl. “I knew you would.”
“Where are you, Lagrange?” asked Jack with a growl.
“Have I ruined your life sufficiently yet?” said Lagrange.
“Not at all. Keep trying. Come on, face me like a man.”
“I’m going to disappear awhile to let you wonder what I’m doing and where I’m going.”
“You coward. Have something to say, say it to my face,” barked Jack.
“When will I be back? I may be back as a gun-shootin’ Texan,” he said with a heavy southern intonation, “or a Muslim with a bomb strapped to my chest.” He continued changing his accent to a Middle Eastern pronunciation. “Or a Brit about to bore you to death,” he said, altering it yet again.
“You fuck with the bull, you get the horns,” Jack’s voice roared into the mobile device.
The uncharacteristic shouting had attracted multiple office personnel to the entrance to Jack’s office. From behind them all, Shelley zigzagged between coworkers, Detective Brad Mills in tow. All others scampered, leaving Shelley and the cop at the doorway. She meekly cleared her throat.
“Someone here to see you, Dr. Norris.”
Jack gestured for Mills to enter and sit. “A call from Lagrange.”
Mills stood up and extended his palm. Jack handed him his cell phone. Mills dialed a number. “I want you to trace a call for me. From this cell phone.” He looked down at his feet. “Dr. Jack Norris’s cell phone.” His gaze connected with Jack’s. “Just happened a few seconds ago. I want to know where the call was made. And monitor for the location of that phone. Let me know what you find.” Mills ended the call and handed the mobile device back to Jack. Both sat down.
“Do you know the whole story?” said Jack.
“Detective Susan Quentin filled me in on everything,” said Mills.
“What’s the plan?”
“The plan is we, the police, find and arrest Lagrange. You, the victim, leave this whole thing to the police. Don’t interfere with—”
“I want to help—”
“Absolutely not.” Mills turned red in the face and his voice grew stern. “Look, I know you have a history with the Evansville Police Department. You helped Susan and the others find the bad guys three years ago. I get that. I really do.” He took a step closer to Jack. “But not on my shift. I don’t want to tell you this again. Do not interfere, Dr. Norris. I will put you in jail if you do. Do I make myself clear, Doctor?”
“Yes, crystal.”
“Good. I’m as serious as a heart attack.” Somberly, the detective exited the office and disappeared from sight.
Jack took in a deep breath. I know I can kill this son of a bitch, he thought. I’ll squeeze the life out of him! Jack felt the hatred bubbling inside him, an aberrant feeling but one he could not deny. He felt like a wild animal waiting to taste the blood of his prey. Jack detested this feeling, but he detested more that he was made to feel this way. Attempting to shake it all off, he inhaled deeply once and then again. Slowly. He began to sense his revulsion melt away, little by little. Then his thoughts returned to his best friend, John Connor, one of those killed by Lagrange. All at once, he felt the anguish of witnessing Claire being shot in the chest and the attempt on his own life when Lagrange sprayed poison in his face. Without realizing what he was doing, Jack’s left hand squeezed his right fist hard, and his teeth clenched. I’ll kill you, Lagrange. I’ll hunt you down like the dog you are, and I’ll destroy you! He took a deep breath. And nobody’s going to stop me.
CHAPTER 32
Detective Mills was already in the interview room when the prison guards escorted in the prisoner. The detective remained sitting for a moment and then stood. He signaled for the man in the orange jail attire to sit down. The inmate took his seat and extended his wrists forward, showing the handcuffs, his gaze on Mills. One of the guards attached the handcuffs securely around a small ring soldered to the side of the table. The table itself was firmly attached to the floor. No words were exchanged. The two guards exited the room, and the door closed behind them.
“What can I do for you, Officer?” said the prisoner.
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“Mr. Michael Ganz,” said Mills. “Tell me about Simon Lagrange.” He spread several pictures of the criminal all over the table.
“Simon who?” said Ganz, ignoring the photographs.
“Nai Trepur, Joshua McCarthy—”
“I don’t know anything about him. I’m in prison. I’ve been here for three long years.”
“And you have many more to go. I may be able to make your stay here a little bit more comfortable.” He took a deep breath. “What do you need? A computer? Your own TV? Dope? What?”
“Thank you for your concern, Officer…” he paused, searching for the nametag hanging from the detective’s breast pocket, “Officer Brad Mills of the Evansville Police Department. But I’m really quite comfortable already.”
“OK, how about helping me as a gesture of your desire to do your civil duty?”
“Civil duty? Me? I have no civil duty.”
“Then help me as a fellow detective. An ex-cop. Help me find Lagrange.”
There was a short pause, followed by an intense guffaw. This boisterous belly laugh continued for an uncomfortably long moment. “I should help you because I’m an ex-cop?” Another chuckle. “That’s your argument? I’m a bad guy now. I’m on the other side of the fence, Detective Brad Mills of the Evansville Police Department.” Ganz’s laughter suddenly stopped, and his face sprouted a scowl. “I’m missing Wheel of Fortune for this? Guards! Take me back to my cell.” The prisoner stood up and banged his left arm on the metal table loudly. “Detective Bozo is wasting my time.”
The two prison guards arrived and without a word, released the handcuffs attaching Ganz to the interrogation table and escorted him out of the small room, leaving Mills alone. He gathered his belongings and walked toward the main entrance. He passed by many groups of people—guards, prisoners, visitors, and lawyers—all coming and going. The Terre Haute High Security Federal Correction Complex was certainly a busy place, housing the worst of the worst criminals. The place gave Mills the creeps, and he couldn’t wait to get in his car and hit Route 41 South on the way back home. The sooner he exited the prison, the better.
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