by Anna Burke
“Hope this doesn’t get back to Nurse Andrews,” Jessica sniffed with indignation. “I am so ready, Peter, but I’d like to stop by the ICU. Just for a moment. Is there a quick way to get there from here?”
“Follow me. Put your sunglasses on. Maybe that’ll keep people from recognizing you. No more of that fan club stuff today,” Bernadette said as she made a right turn toward a bank of elevators.
“More like angry villagers who’ve got the monster cornered—smart phones instead of torches,” Jessica sputtered as she put on a pair of sunglasses from her purse. “I have to give Cassie credit for putting up with that all the time. Then again, I’m no movie star. It’s like I’ve suddenly become a Kardashian. This is no reality TV show—this is my life, such as it is!”
“Here, use this, too,” Peter added, handing her his baseball cap to put on.
“How did you know I was in trouble, Peter?” Peter held up fingers, one at a time.
“One, the body count of dead and wounded has climbed. Two, you’ve added bandages to your attire, and three, there are bad guys running around with guns and we’re back at the scene of a crime. I wouldn't leave you alone for long.” He did that smiling thing that never worked for him. The grin faded and grim-faced Peter returned. Jessica relaxed.
“After what went on in this hospital, I never should have let you two come up here alone. At least not without checking it out first. If Brien hadn’t been running his mouth, that might have dawned on me sooner.”
“What do you mean?” Brien asked as they sped off after Bernadette, who was on the move.
“What I mean is that it’s been ‘dude’ this and ‘dude’ that since you got in the car this morning. That’s in between the pleas for food, every hour on the hour, like a baby. At least when you’re shoving food in your mouth I get a few minutes of quiet. Except for the slurping and the smacking, that is. Something happens to my brain. To tune you out I have to shut down critical faculties. Not good.”
“Tune me out? Dude, why?” Brien did a little quick step to keep up with Peter’s longer stride. It was like watching a Chester and Spike cartoon, with Brien the little dog moving from one side to the other of the big dog, Peter. Jessica expected big dog to reach out and smack little dog at any second. Brien was going on and on about how he was doing everything Peter asked, and he couldn’t help it if he got hungry, and they had to go get coffee anyway. “You drink a lot of coffee, even for a humongous guy, Dude,” Brien said.
“Not that much, Dude. Anyway, I’ve got to have a lot of caffeine to keep up with your mouth.” The ping of the elevator stopped the conversation for a moment as they all filed in.
“That’s bogus. I feel all this pressure, Man, to keep up the conversation. You go all dodgy on me. Like, ‘ooh, I’m a secret agent. I know plenty, but I’m not talking,’ or something like that.”
“Yeah, so what’s your point?”
“How am I going to learn all that secret stuff if you don’t teach me?”
“Brien, you’re in training to do security, not spy work.”
“What’s the difference if you don’t teach me any of it anyway?”
“Lesson one: look and listen,” Peter said, pointing two fingers at his eyes then at Brien, and then tugging at his ear. Lesson two: “Zip it,” he said making zipping motions across his lips.
Jessica coughed a time or two, on the elevator, to stifle her laughter. That hurt, but laughing at the interaction between the two men would have hurt more than the little fake cough. She wasn’t sure she should encourage the sniping anyway.
“Bastante! Is this what you two do in the car all day? You seem to have plenty to say, Peter. Just what are you trying to teach Brien? How to talk the bad guys into giving themselves up? Take them on one of those ride-alongs and I’ll bet they’ll confess to anything in no time. Ay, yi, yi,” Bernadette said, staring up at the two men and shaking her head.
Brien and Peter had stopped speaking at her command. They both looked at her with the same quizzical expression on their faces.
“What do you mean?” Thor and Uber-Thor asked, almost in unison. That was it! Jessica lost it and burst out laughing.
“Oh ow, ow. Stop it, all of you before I have to check myself back in here. The nursing staff won’t like that one bit. Please, I can’t breathe and it hurts. Oh, stop, please.” Jessica fought to get her breath back even though all three of her companions were now looking at her like she was the one being ridiculous. She had to hustle once they got off that elevator. Bernadette flew down a hallway, made a couple quick turns down more hallways and they were in the ICU.
“Wow, Bernadette, you sure do know your way around,” Jessica observed as she caught up, out of breath.
“Hey I made a few coffee runs that first night we were here, waiting to find out you would be okay. I figured out the quickest way back and forth to the cafeteria and coffee bar."
“Cafeteria?” Brien asked, on high alert.
“Coffee bar?” Peter asked, with almost as much eagerness in his voice.
Jessica tried to shush them all up as she approached the nurse’s station. They were getting careful scrutiny from a nurse on duty. A police officer still posted close to what must be Libby's room, stood and walked toward them.
“Can I help you,” the nurse asked.
“Yes, I’d like to see Libby Van Der Woert. Is she permitted visitors?” Jessica inquired.
“You can’t all be family.”
“No, we’re, um, well...”
“Jessica, is that you?” a soft voice asked from behind them. When Jessica turned, Nora Van Der Woert rushed forward to greet them. She had just stepped out of one of the rooms they passed. The woman had been crying.
“Nora, what’s happened?”
“Libby’s taken a turn for the worse. I, uh, we don’t know what’s going on. The doctors are with her now. I'm doing what I do best in situations like this—sit and wait. What are you doing here?”
“I hoped to look in on Libby while I was here for a checkup. Do you want me to sit with you while you wait? Bernadette and my friends were just talking about going for coffee. Can they bring you some?”
“That would be great, Bernadette. If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it. I don’t think we’ve met,” she said, holding out her hand and introducing herself to Peter and Brien.
Peter did a quick check of the area. The nurse gave him dirty looks and was about to chide him, but the police officer gave her a reassuring nod as he and Peter had a chat. Jessica followed Nora into the waiting area. “It looks okay, Jessica. None of your autograph seekers will get past that nurse or the police officer. We’ll give you two a few minutes of privacy, but stay put, okay?”
“Sure, Peter thanks.” The two men hurried off after Bernadette, who was already increasing the distance between them. “Let’s have a seat, Nora and you can tell me what’s happened.” Nora sank into a nearby chair. Jessica followed, easing her way into a seat next to her.
“I’m not sure what happened or what it means. I came down here to visit, and I was in there for a few minutes when she stirred. Then she opened her eyes, Jessica.” Nora looked as though she was still trying to process the moment that followed.
“I felt stunned after that when she spoke. I was so excited, I couldn't breathe. Do you know what my daughter’s first words were?”
“No,” Jessica replied, feeling her body stiffen in anticipation.
“Libby opened her eyes and said, ‘Where is that bastard? He’s going to pay!’ or something to that affect. It was such a relief to see her awake. But then she uttered those words in this awful vicious tone.”
“What did you do?”
“I wasn’t sure if I should keep her talking or urge her to be quiet, so I hit the call button for the nurse. Then I said, ‘Libby it’s okay. It’s Mom’. She had closed her eyes again, but opened them when I called her by name. She stared at me with cold, hard eyes. ‘Where is that son-of-a-bitch Carr, Mom?’ I didn’t want to tell
her he’s dead. All I said was, ‘It’s okay, Libby, he’s not here, you're safe.’ The nurse came into the room right then and checked all the readings on the equipment. Libby was getting more and more upset, trying to sit up even. ‘Tell Jessica to get him. All she needs is in that blue case at my house. She has to get the rosary, too’ and something about a key or 'it's a key'. She was growling in between curses, and spitting like a rabid dog. Then she just seized up, spewed foam and her body convulsed. The nurse sent out a code, and a team rushed in to work on her. They shoved me out of there when they wheeled in the cart with the resuscitation equipment on it. That was over an hour ago. She’s stable again, but nobody can tell me what happened or why, much less what any of it means for her recovery. I went back in there, for a moment, but I can’t tell anything by looking at her. The doctors are checking on her now.”
“I am so sorry, Nora.”
“It’s the story of my life with Libby. I feel exhilaration one minute, terror and disappointment the next, followed by confusion that never goes away. I thought you should know she had a message for you. I don’t get that either. Does it have something to do with why she called you to meet at the top of the tram? Have you got any idea what that was all about?”
“I know Paul already told you about the admission she made to me that the allegations toward Nick and his brother were false, and that Carr put her up to trying to get money from you and Nick. I don’t quite know what else is going on, but I am trying to piece it together. That day at my office, she got it right away that the good doctor and I didn’t hit it off. I thought that amused her. In fact, later on it I wondered if she had engineered it that way.”
“That would be like her.”
“It bothered me enough to have our investigators at the firm inspect the guy again. We had done that background check on him you asked us to do. Carr had come up clean, although he’s bounced around from place to place. Lots of his affiliations didn’t last long. That’s a little odd, given most places need a psychiatrist of record on their team and there’s a shortage. What we encountered when we dug deeper the second time around were several ‘can’t talk about it’ or ‘no comment’ responses. Open hostility, even, at the mention of his name. That tells me he did not leave on good terms and there may have been some kind of confidentiality clause resulting from legal proceedings. We have found no public records about legal problems, so whatever went on must have happened outside of a courtroom. At least part of the problem, according to what Libby told me up on Mt. San Jacinto, could be that Carr didn't always keep his interest in his clients professional.”
“Jessica, that doesn’t surprise me. I was almost certain that’s what Libby was trying to tell me months ago when she was gushing about him like he was a rock star.”
“If he made a habit of crossing the line, it would explain his sudden departures under unpleasant circumstances. Even though it’s behavior that ought to get reported, agencies don’t want bad news to get out, so they handle it themselves. Often, guys like Carr move on, continue to practice and do it again elsewhere. That part of what she was trying to say today, about making him pay, could be about feeling betrayed, or because he was hell-bent on getting rid of her. I'm still trying to figure out why.” A wave of sadness hit Jessica. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t have done more before this all got out of hand. When Libby tried to contact me after that unexpected meeting in my office, I told her to go through her attorney. Maybe she'll pull through.”
“Good Lord, Jessica, she almost killed you and you’re sorry. You had to behave in a professional way with Libby or you'd have an ethics mess on your hands, too. Besides that, she’s still alive, thanks to you, from what I've heard. This isn't the first time I've had to face the prospect of losing Libby. I’ve mourned her loss for a long time. I have memories of her, like any mother does—cherished ones, mine to keep. Libby as the infant I cuddled, and as the toddler I taught to walk and talk. Images of sweet little Libby at Christmases, birthday parties, trick or treating, and her first day of school, all stored away in my mind and heart. I tried to keep that girl alive as long as I could, even as she slipped away. When she came after her father and her uncle I knew that girl was gone. Nor would she ever be the woman I hoped she might become.” Tears fell as Nora whispered those last few words.
“I can’t imagine what that must feel like. I'm sorry.” Jessica wished she could offer something more tangible in the way of support.
“It is what it is, as they say. I don’t have to like it. I just have to face it. Lord knows, I’m not alone. Parents of seriously mentally ill children have to come to grips with what they can expect of their children as adults. Mental illness is as devastating as any physical illness; more so, maybe, because it’s so hard to know what’s sickness and what’s not. You’d think I’d be better at figuring that out, having grown up with a mother who was so disturbed, but I don’t get it.”
“That she's stable again is a good sign.”
“Could be, but nothing will ever be the way it was before this latest mess. Even if she recovers, I won't trust her, or have the same hope for her ever again.”
“You don’t know that, Nora. Where there’s life, there’s hope—that sounds trite, but it’s true.” Jessica caught an image of her mother, leaving the house with Hank at her side. Would things ever be the same for her relationship with her mother? Change might be good. Nora must have read Jessica's thoughts.
“Maybe not going back to the way things were is good. I’ll place my hope in that. It’s all over for Carr, now, at least. Are you still investigating him?”
“Yes. What’s happened to Shannon Donnelly is still up in the air, and he may have had something to do with that. According to Libby, Shannon was having a fling with Carr, too. So, he may turn out to be the linchpin in all this, dead or not. What about that little blue suitcase or a bag she mentioned. Do you know what that is, or where?”
“No, Jessica, I’ve never seen a blue suitcase. It might be at her condo. Her car is in a parking garage there, too. You’re welcome to take a look around yourself—or send Jerry. Keys to her condo and car are on my key ring if you want them.”
“Sure, that would be great, if you don’t mind.”
“Mind, no. If Libby survives, and her psyche is at all intact—if that’s something you can ever say about Libby—she'll be facing a lot of questions. It will help her if you can figure out what’s going on. I have been so out of it, I haven’t even had time to process what it means that someone tried to kill her, here, in the ICU. The police asked me about it. How do I know who my daughter’s enemies might be? I didn’t even know Nick and I were on that list until recently. Sometimes I still wonder where I went wrong as a mom. It’s so hard not to blame yourself—everyone else still blames moms when their kids go wrong.” Nora handed keys to Jessica, one an electronic key that belonged to the car, another for the door to the condo, and a smaller key. “That little key is for a mailbox.”
“That someone is still after Libby is the scariest part of this. The police are making progress. I'm sure they'll share what they’ve learned with you if you call Palm Springs PD. In the meantime, I’ll get someone to go take a look for that bag. Does what she had to say about a rosary mean anything to you? Is she a Catholic?”
“We raised her as a Catholic, dragged her kicking and screaming through all the CCD classes. She took me to task more than once for putting her through it, loading her up with guilt, blah, blah, blah. If she goes to Mass or owns a rosary, it would surprise me, so I have no clue what she's talking about or what that has to do with a key. Could be none of it means a thing. With Libby you never know.”
They sat in silence for several more minutes before Jessica's trio of friends returned with coffee. Peter passed a large cup to Nora. Jessica was ready for a cup, too, after that sad conversation. Blessed Bernadette had brought her one even though she hadn’t asked for it. Peter was guzzling coffee and Brien was stuffing his face, so no more banter. Jessica was about to
say goodbye when the doctors came into the waiting room and told Nora she could go back to Libby's bedside. They had little to report about what had happened to Libby or her prognosis.
On the ride home, Jessica was quiet. Nora spoke from the heart when she said daughters don’t always become the women their parents hope they will become. Mothers aren’t always what you hope for either. Jessica was deep in thought when Bernadette spoke.
“Mira, Jessica. Something’s going on.”
“What does that mean?” Jessica asked, as her heart leapt into her throat. A huge, dark-colored SUV pulled in behind them—in between their Escalade and the SUV that Peter and Brien occupied.
“You want me to step on it, Jessica? This car is big, but it can move when I want it to.” Jessica looked around at the afternoon traffic. It wasn’t bad yet, but there wasn’t much room in which to maneuver.
“Where are you going to go, Bernadette?”
“Back to Mission Hills, fast, and get us behind the guard gate,” Bernadette responded, speeding up as she spoke.
“You’re going fast enough, already, to do that.” It hurt to turn around, but Jessica managed and saw that the SUV was staying right with them, not far from their bumper as Bernadette sped up.
“Okay, so maybe you’ve got the right idea, Bernadette. Step on it!” As she spoke those words, a second dark-colored SUV moved in beside them. The tinted windows were so dark that Jessica could not see who was driving. She and Bernadette were in the far left lane and had passed the last possible turnaround. There wasn’t anywhere for them to go now except forward. At least no one was taking pot shots at them.
“Geez,” Jessica muttered. “We’re sitting ducks.”
“Not quite, Jessica. I’ve got us covered.” Bernadette reached into a pocket in between the driver’s seat and the door and pulled out a gun. She set it on her lap so she could return to driving with both hands.”
“Oh my God, Bernadette. What are you doing with Dad’s gun?”
“Take it, Jessica. Don’t use it unless you have to. I gotta concentrate on drivin’. That light up ahead is about to change. I can beat it.” Jessica reached over and took the gun. Twisting got her a round of protests from her ribs. No matter, her heart was pounding against her ribcage so hard, she couldn't catch her breath anyway. Another jolt ran through her when her phone rang. Jessica whisked it out of her purse and answered.