Cory's Flight

by Dan Petrosini

  “Best regards, Gavin.”

  Cory reread the message. He’d glossed over the transplant part the first time. Here was another family getting upended by the need for an organ. Moving on to the part about Tower, he was living with a foster family. Why? Had there been abuse? Is that what drove Tower to be a vindictive, controlling person?

  Who were the Leonardos? Were they still alive and living in the Village? Cory composed a reply:

  “Hi Gavin,

  “So sorry to hear about your wife’s transplant needs. I’m familiar with it as my mother-in-law needed one. It’s super important to get to the right hospital. I know NYC has some great places, like Columbia and Weill Cornell, but I did a lot of research, and the shortest wait times were always at Nebraska Medicine in Omaha.

  “I know it’s far, but it’s something to consider. Time is the enemy in this battle. Good luck!

  “Thanks for the info on Richard. Do you know what happened that led him to leave his family? I wonder if the Leonardos are still around. If so, do you know a way to contact them?

  “Thanks for trying to help me, Dan.”

  Cory typed another email out, this one to Linda, asking her to see if she could come up with anyone named Leonardo that lived in the city. He also sent a message to Worth letting him know that Tower had a troubled past and had lived with a foster family in the West Village with the surname of Leonardo. He asked the lawyer whether he could get a private investigator to hunt down the family.

  Cory didn’t know what to do next. If he wasn’t locked up, he’d have taken a ride to the Village and gone door-to-door looking for information.

  He got down on the floor and did some push-ups to drain the adrenaline.

  In the lunchroom, Cory kept to himself, pushing around the mystery chuck meat. After the midday meal, prisoners were allowed to use the phones. Cory was poised to bolt out of his seat as soon as the guards allowed lining up. He wanted to be among the first ten in line.

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Cory picked up the receiver and plugged in Mt. Sinai’s phone number. It was a good hour earlier than he wanted to call, but he couldn’t wait any longer. He crossed his fingers.

  “Jane Santo. How can I assist you?”

  “Jane, it’s Cory. What did you find out?”

  “Oh, hi Cory. I checked with HR. I’m sorry, but very few people have access to the blood supply, and no one raises suspicion. Everyone who works there has been with the hospital a minimum of eight years.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I couldn’t let anyone know what I was doing, so I looked over the records myself, telling them I was looking for some employees to highlight in a PR campaign.”

  “And there wasn’t anything even a little suspicious?”

  “No. I wish I could help you but . . .”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  Cory was supposed to call his wife but didn’t feel like talking. He just couldn’t fake being upbeat. He went back to his cell wondering for the millionth time why Tower was doing what he was.

  He knew he’d pissed the lawyer off by outsmarting him to stop the extortion. If Tower wanted to sue him or send one of his goons to intimidate him, he’d get the knee-jerk reaction, but to frame him? For murder?

  Tower had to be some kind of genius nutjob. There was no doubt he was highly intelligent, but he had a dark side, one that let him cross ethical and moral boundaries without remorse. What made him like that?

  Cory used the tablet to access educational resources and found himself reading articles on personality types and disorders. There were a surprising number of disorders, and they were confusing.

  The most likely fit, Cory thought, was Tower was a narcissist. Cory understood them to be control freaks with a strong desire to be admired. It sounded like the lawyer, but the information wasn’t useful. He x’d out of the program and went to his email box.

  * * *

  Walking down a dimly lit corridor, Cory got back to trying to figure out who had planted his blood. Did Mt. Sinai sell or trade with other hospitals? Maybe they had too much of type A and needed AB, or perhaps they exchanged it for medicines they needed.

  Approaching the rec room, he discounted another institution being involved. Cory had a common blood type; it couldn’t be in demand. He pushed through the door as an idea hit him.

  Franklin was holding a guitar. “Hey, Cory. How you doing?”

  “Pretty good. Look, I hate to ask, but can I use your phone to make a call?”

  “I could lose my job.”

  “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’ll be fast. I need to ask someone a quick question.”

  “I don’t know . . .”

  “My ass is on the line.”

  “All right.” Franklin opened up the door and looked both ways. He closed it and retreated to a corner of the room, waving for Cory to follow him. He handed him his phone. “Stay here. The cameras don’t catch here. Hurry up.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  Cory dialed a number. “Mount Sinai. How may I direct your call?”

  “Jeff Corbin. In the blood bank, please.”

  “This is Jeff.”

  “Hey Jeff, it’s Cory. Cory Loop.”

  “Cory? Is that really you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh my God. How you doing?”

  “Okay, I guess. Look, I don’t have much time. You know I donated blood all the time—”

  “Yeah, you were here, like, once a month.”

  “I need to know who else would have access to a bag I donated.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Say you take my blood. What do you do with it after I’m done?”

  “It gets inventoried and goes into the refrigeration unit.”

  “And then what? What happens to it? Who can get to it?”

  “It stays there until it’s requisitioned and pulled from inventory for a transfusion.”

  “So, a nurse would have access?”

  “Yeah, and sometimes a tech or aide.”

  “Let me ask you, do you know of anyone with access who might have had a record?”

  “A record?”

  “Yeah, someone who committed a crime.”

  “Not that I know of, but I don’t know everybody who works here. The place is massive.”

  “I know, but just the people in contact with the blood. Is there anybody new or was new?”

  “Not that I remember.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay, man. Thanks.”

  “Hey, wait a minute. Now that I think of it, there was this guy, his name was Brian Cliff. I’m not saying he did anything, but he was here for a pretty short period.”

  “How short?”

  “I don’t know, maybe a month or so.”

  “What kind of a guy was he?”

  “He kept to himself. Seemed like a regular guy.”

  “What was his job?”

  “He was a records clerk.”

  “And he had access to the blood?”

  “He wouldn’t be handling it or anything, but they’d be doing inventory, stuff like that.”

  “His name was Brian Cliff?”

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “Thanks, man. I gotta run.”

  Cory hung up and Franklin said, “Everything all right?”

  “Can I squeeze in one more quick call? It’s to my lawyer. I got to get it off my mind, or I won’t be worth anything trying to show you licks.”

  Franklin took another look in the hallway. “Hurry up.”

  Cory dialed as fast as he could and was connected to Worth.

  “Mr. Worth, listen, I just found out there was this guy, Brian Cliff, he worked at Mount Sinai for a couple of weeks, right before I was framed. He had access to my blood. It’s got to be him.”

  “Where did you obtain this information?”

  “From Jeff Corbin, he works in blood collection. He’s been drawing my blood for ye
ars.”

  “In what capacity was Brian Cliff employed?”

  “Records clerk, he was doing the blood inventory. Can you do something, like, bring him in?”

  “We’ll run a background check first. Determine if there is evidence of criminal activity in his past.”

  “I’ll bet there is.”

  “I’m not a gambler, Mr. Lupinski. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Hold on. Did you see my email about the Leonardo family? Tower lived with them right before he changed his name.”

  “I’ve been in court all morning. Just started going through my communications. Allow me some time—”

  “I don’t have time; the trial is coming up. You said so yourself.”

  “I’m well aware of the date, Mr. Lupinski. Please be assured that your case is a priority for this office.”

  “All right, but I want you to get me out of here.”

  “It’s my belief that not enough time—”

  “I don’t care. Just file for a bail hearing. Ankle bracelet or whatever, I don’t care, get me out of here.”

  “The petition was already prepared. I’ll submit it immediately.”

  Cory hung up and handed the phone back. “Thanks, man. You’re a lifesaver.”

  He took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s get to work. Play me that blues lick, but start it on the third. It’s my favorite way to play it.”

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  It wasn’t the cement bed that kept Cory up. It was his fear that every lead seemed to be dying. He’d asked Linda to search the web on Brian Cliff, but she was unable to find anything linking the man to a crime.

  Gavin had also gone silent on him. He never responded about the Leonardo family, and Cory had played ping-pong with sending another email. The poor guy’s wife was sick, and he didn’t want to push him. It wasn’t right, and Gavin might get upset and cut off communications.

  Cory sent a quick message saying he was thinking about him and his wife and that he hoped she was doing well. He also told him not to forget that Nebraska Medicine was a good option if time was becoming an issue.

  * * *

  Cory read the email from Worth for the tenth time. The subject line was Brian Cliff. He recalled hesitating before opening it. But the body of the message was nothing more than the lawyer asking him to call his office that afternoon.

  Was it bad news? If it was something positive, wouldn’t the attorney want to tell him in person? That way they could go over what strategy to use. Cory had met with Worth a bunch of times but still couldn’t get a read on something like this.

  Cory tossed the tablet onto his pillow, recalling how Worth was when he first represented him. The lawyer didn’t play it soft with him. He told him he was in deep trouble and had tried to convince him to take a deal.

  Worth didn’t sugarcoat, he decided. Either way, there wasn’t a person on earth who wouldn’t opt to deliver bad news by phone. Besides receiving a tip, which was unlikely, Cory couldn’t think of another way to find who’d planted his blood at Stein’s house.

  He needed another Mr. Black, one who wouldn’t turn on him. How was he going to get one sitting in jail? He thought how much easier it was with Black around.

  He was secretive but effective. Cory remembered what he had said about keeping a secret. He was right. Black had made him a victim by telling him he was in Greenwich.

  He wondered about asking the inmates if they knew an operative. Cory killed the idea, thinking the more people that knew, the likelier it was it would get back to Tower.

  He thought about Tower and the blood. He had to keep a tight circle, or it would leak out. As he considered it, he became convinced Tower would have used one of the witnesses who put him at Stein’s home.

  It made sense; the witnesses were already either paid by Tower or indebted to the lawyer. Why bring someone else into the conspiracy? Cory’s anger grew as he considered just how much they may have been paid to plant his blood at the scene of the crime.

  Cory headed for lunch, fantasizing about getting revenge on the men who’d testified against him. They deserved to pay for what they were doing to him and his family.

  Who was going to even the score if not him? It was risky, but he didn’t care if he died trying to get revenge.

  As he held his tray out, Cory ran through ideas on torturing the men. As an inmate spooned a plop of potatoes on his dish, Cory smiled. The server said, “You like this shit?”

  “Nah, just thinking of something.” He didn’t want to reveal it was the thought of them begging for their lives that made him smile.

  Cory dropped his tray on a table away from the section Franklin was responsible for. He didn’t want to talk, and he didn’t want to eat. Linda was visiting after lunch, and he didn’t want to see her either.

  Cory lined up as soon as allowed. As the line grew, Franklin came over.

  “Hey, Cory. Why’d you sit all the way over there?”

  Cory shrugged.

  “You all right?”

  “Not feeling so good.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I’ll be all right. But, uh, I gotta pass on the lesson today.”

  “No problem. Feel better.”

  Cory mumbled, “I’ll feel better when those bastards are dead.”

  “I couldn’t hear you.”

  As the inmates began filing out, he said, “Nothing. Forget it.”

  Cory waited in the pen outside the visitor room. He looked at the other men. They were joking around with each other. Most were heavily tattooed and missing teeth.

  As the doors opened, Cory vowed to get revenge on Tower and his accomplices. He thought about turning around, claiming he was sick, and tried to catch a guard’s attention as they filed in.

  He looked around the man in front of him and caught a glimpse of Linda. Sitting at the table with her was Ava. His eyes welled up. Cory hadn’t seen his daughter since he’d run. He wiped a tear away, and a smile burst out on his face.

  Cory embraced his sobbing daughter. A guard warned them there was no contact permitted, and Cory held on a second longer. “It’s okay, honey. I’m getting out of here, don’t you worry.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “A hundred percent.”

  “When?”

  “We’re getting really close. Mr. Worth is working on a lead on someone who planted my blood at the scene.”

  “Wow. Really?”

  Given the way he felt about the phone call request from his lawyer, Cory said, “Yeah, but even better is that I’m waiting to hear back from someone who knew Tower before he changed his name. He was in foster care with a family called the Leonardos.”

  “What is that going to do?”

  “Well, we need to understand more about Tower. There’s no doubt something happened when he was a kid, and we think we can use it to pressure him. It’s hard to do research stuck in here but—”

  “Tell me what to do. I want to help.”

  “I don’t want you mixed up in this. My lawyer and me have everything under control. I want to know how you’re doing. How is school?”

  The hour-long visit flew by. Cory kissed his daughter and wife and left the room looking over his shoulder. He felt like a different person than the one who walked in. His spirits were as high as his hopes. Ava was not only sympathetic but wanted to help.

  Cory felt a tinge of embarrassment at the lust he felt for revenge. He realized he was acting no better than the people who framed him.

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Standing in front of phone number eight, Cory took a deep breath. He grabbed the receiver and punched his lawyer’s number in.

  “Hi, Mr. Worth.”

  “Mr. Lupinski. How are you?”

  “Okay. I guess.”

  “You’re going to improve, because I heard from the court. Your bail hearing is tomorrow.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, but remember there’s no assurance you’ll be released. Understood?”

 
“Yeah. So, I guess you didn’t get anywhere with the guy at the hospital.”

  “Quite the contrary. I’m not stating he had a role in planting evidence, but Brian Cliff has a criminal record.”

  “He does?”

  “Yes, two vandalism charges, a burglary, and an arson charge. Interestingly, Barney Tower represented Mr. Cliff in three of the four cases.”

  “It’s got to be him.”

  “We can’t jump to conclusions, but I’m encouraged by the connections.”

  “I told you. Oh, man. I can’t believe we’ve got him.”

  “We’re not there yet.”

  “Why can’t you bring him in? Question him under oath.”

  “Deposition is an option. However, I’m unsure what we’ll learn. People like Mr. Cliff tend to lie or take the Fifth.”

  “But at least we’ll know it’s him.”

  “I’m aware of that. I was considering approaching the DA. We can inform him of the circumstances surrounding Mr. Cliff and the witness Mr. Ruiz.”

  “You think he’ll drop the charges?”

  “No, but I believe he’d be amenable to allowing for your release.”

  “Tower will find out. He’ll go on offense and pressure these guys. He might even have them killed.”

  “Hold on, Mr. Lupinski. Mr. Tower cannot act with impunity.”

  “You don’t know him. I told you from the beginning about him. I want to wait until we have everything we need. So much against Tower, that he has to back down.”

  “I understand your apprehension, but we don’t have the time.”

  “Can’t you get me a postponement?”

  “Not without revealing what we discovered.”

  “Damn. I still want to wait. Just a little longer, okay?”

  “If you wish, but what about Mr. Cliff?”

  “Don’t depose him yet. I mean, get everything ready, but I don’t want to tip Tower off.”

  “I understand your fears, but my legal advice is to bring what we’ve uncovered about the possible collusion to the DA.”

  “No, it’ll backfire. I need you to hold off.”

  “Though it’s against my better judgment, I’ll hold off notifying the DA. However, I must warn you, time is running out to mount a proper defense.”