Savage Heart

by M. G Scott

  “My mom knew her from when they were kids back in NYC. When I decided to leave, I made a call to her and she was willing to hire me.” A sigh. “So here I am, all by myself.”

  “Then why push it?”

  “Why push what?”

  “The story. I mean, why push something on your editor if you know it’s going to rub them the wrong way?”

  “Because it’s a story that moved me. And I figured if I felt that way, then maybe others would too.”

  “You mean your female demographic?”

  She nodded.

  Brieman turned toward the laptop sitting on the small desk. “Can I tell you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “You seem to empathize with others.”

  She didn’t think she was that way but maybe there be a bit of truth to it.

  “Are you convinced it was an accident?” Brieman added.

  Without hesitation, Sabrina replied, “No, I don’t. Why do you ask that?”

  “Because I don’t think it was an accident either.”

  Her heart started pounding. Could she be right after all? “How do you know?”

  Brieman paused. “How about a deal? I’ll tell you what I know but it has to be off the record. You know, just don’t publish who told you.”

  “That’s fair. I’ll take anything at this point.” How exciting, she thought—her first anonymous source.

  “Thanks,” Brieman replied sarcastically. He spun back around and faced her. “This was the second time I had treated him. The first was for a bad case of influenza, but this time was different. He came to me complaining of some dizziness.”

  “How did you treat him?”

  He gazed out the window. “There wasn’t really much I could do. Physically, I checked everything out and he seemed okay. So I gave him a sedative to relax and told him to call me in a week. Who would’ve known he’d be dead just a day later?”

  “What did you think after you heard?”

  “Honestly, I racked my brain thinking there was something I could’ve done differently.”

  “But how could’ve what you did or didn’t do keep him from dying, especially if it wasn’t an accident?”

  “Nothing, I s’pose.

  “Especially if it was murder.”

  He thought for a second. “Honestly, I can’t rule that out. Not after seeing him a day before he died.”

  “Did he say anything odd that caught your attention?”

  Brieman leaned back on the stool and looked over the shoulder. “You know, to this day, I’ve been trying to make sense of a comment he made after I asked him when he started to feel sick.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said he felt dizzy at work the day before. He had been working late. That’s nothing out of the ordinary—stress could’ve caused that. But then he muttered something about organ donations.”

  “Organ donations?” Sabrina opened her notebook and looked at the quick notes she had made about Eric Sanchez. “He worked for a pharmaceuticals company. What could he possibly know about that?” she asked, almost rhetorically.

  He shook his head. “Don’t know. But he also muttered something about finding something. I think he used the word ‘disturbing’.”

  She forced her bad hand onto the page and scribbled a note to herself. She looked at the handwriting. First graders would’ve been more pleased.

  “It was almost as if he had caught himself saying something he shouldn’t have,” Brieman added.

  “Did he mention anything else?” Sabrina asked as she looked into his deep blue eyes. They could melt the coldest butter, she thought.

  “No. At the time, I chalked it off as a slight case of delirium from the stress he was probably under at work.”

  “What makes you believe it couldn’t be an accident? Was it his behavior?”

  He took a deep breath. “I barely knew the guy. I don’t know what his past was like … or how he deals with stress.”

  “What does your gut say?”

  He leaned forward and stared into her eyes. “That it wasn’t an accident. It just wasn’t in the cards.”

  Suddenly, the cellphone rattled on the bed tray next to Sabrina. She struggled but managed to grab it with her one good hand. “Hello?”

  “You okay?” the voice said at the other end.

  She looked at Brieman and rolled her eyes. Although she hadn’t been with him long, she instantly recognized Blogg’s voice. “I think so … but I’m going to be in a sling for a few weeks.”

  “I heard the message you left me and figured I’d see how you’re doing.” A pause. “I hope it doesn’t interfere with your writing.”

  Sabrina smiled. “I’ll be fine.” No matter the circumstance, Blogg would always be Blogg, she thought.

  “What the hell are you doing in Oceanside, anyway?”

  “To see a friend.” It really wasn’t that far off base. She just needed to get to know Dr. Brieman.

  “Fine, but you need to get your sweet ass back here. We’ve got a paper to run.”

  That wasn’t going to happen. After speaking with Dr. Brieman she knew there was only one thing she needed to do—talk to Carla and make her aware of what she just found out. “That’s what I need to talk to you about.”

  “You got an issue with your assignment?”

  “How about something better.”

  Blogg paused. “Keep talking.”

  “What about a series on Oceanside?” She bit her lip.

  There was a deep sigh. “What’s wrong with Neskowin? Don’t you have enough to cover here? Or do I need to load you up some more?”

  “Look, I’ve just spent the entire weekend here and I’ve gotten to know some of the folks fairly well.”

  “You mean the medical profession, don’t you?”

  She ignored him. “I just think this is a beautiful place to write about. The readers would love it. I know the tourists would, and I’m sure the Neskowin locals would like to know more about their neighbor.”

  Without hesitating, he replied, “I have to ask again—what’s wrong with Neskowin?”

  She didn’t really have a good answer, or at least one she wanted to tell him. “Nothing. It’s just that I’m already here and I think I owe this town something for their kindness the past twenty-four hours.”

  The other end drew silence.

  “Blogg?”

  “You’re killing me, Sabrina. Look, I’m not going to say I’m thrilled with you showing interest in something outside of Neskowin—I don’t know what I’m going to tell our investor. But you’re there already and you need to rest up. I’ll give you one article and that’s it.”

  She was sure he could see her brimming smile. “You won’t regret it.”

  “I already have.”

  Chapter 20

  “Gina?”

  She grudgingly rolled on her back.

  “Good morning,” a cheery woman’s voice said in a thick Mexican accent.

  Gina stretched her arms and yawned and then opened her eyes. The woman, maybe in her forties, smiled softly at her.

  “Buen día!”

  Gina eyed the short, plump, dark-skinned woman. An orange and brown scarf was wrapped around her shoulders, hiding the collar of her gray uniform. “Buen día to you,” she replied.

  Her mind raced to last night. She looked over at Helen’s bed.

  “Señorita. What is wrong?”

  She eyed the crumpled figure of Helen. “Last night … I felt like somebody was in our room.”

  A chuckle by the Mexican woman. “Ah, a case of the nerves. I’m sure of it. Your mind is playing tricks on you.”

  Gina sat up. “It just seemed so real. What time is it anyway?”

  “Six o’clock in the morning. It’s a special day for you. It’s time to have your procedure done.”

  “Really?” A shudder rolled through her. “I … I’m not sure I’m ready.”

  “No worries, my dear. You won’t remember a thing.”<
br />
  “Why the rush?”

  “That’s for Dr. Vua to answer. He’ll be here in a—”

  Suddenly there was a faint knock on the door. “Please come in,” the assistant called out.

  The door opened and Vua, dressed in black, sauntered in. He had a bright smile about him, something Gina hadn’t seen earlier. “Did Ms. Yana give you the good news?”

  “Yes … I’m just not sure I’m ready.”

  He put a hand on her knee. “I’m sure you’re a little nervous, but everything will be fine. Just remember a life is going to be saved because of you.”

  Gina remembered back to the orientation. “You mean through my baby’s placenta?”

  “Yes, the placenta is the fountain of life, and now is the time to give the miracle.”

  A shot of adrenaline pushed through her. “Do you have someone in mind? I mean, who’s going to be the recipient?”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you. But it’s someone—a woman—who needs this miracle soon; otherwise we’ll be too late.”

  “Do you know what’s wrong with her?”

  “She’s dying from cardiomyopathy,” Vua said matter-of-factly.

  Gina’s thought back to her visit with Blair. Could it really be her? Just the thought of saving Blair, or someone like her, made her feel a lot better about what she was going to do. “Okay. I’m ready.”

  Vua looked at her and gave a quick smile. “You don’t know what this means to the patient.” He turned toward the assistant. “Ms. Yana, can you make sure she’s ready?”

  “Sí. Of course.”

  Vua’s cellphone buzzed. He looked at the caller ID. “I need to go.” He walked out without saying another word.

  Chapter 21

  As Sabrina tapped the brake on her newly rented car, she eyed her phone, making sure she had Carla’s address right. “Five four two seven,” she whispered to herself as she scanned both sides of the road. Set against a backdrop of mountains, the rural community just outside Oceanside was dotted with farmhouses, bungalows, and A-frames, each set on an acre or more of land. The sparse community seemed just right for those wanting to forget the grind of the big city.

  She squinted at the half-painted numbers on the house to her left: 5427. There it was. She gazed at the off-white cedar exterior and its front bay window. Peaking from behind the windows were a set of clumsily laid curtains showing no sign of activity. As she pushed her car into park, she wondered if coming here was the right thing to do. Maybe it will backfire, she thought. Things certainly didn’t go well in their last conversation and this could make things even worse.

  But now she was aware of new information Carla had to at least listen to.

  Sabrina stepped clumsily out of the car, her shoulder throbbing with every move. Taking a nervous breath, she eyed the house, unsure what she was going to say or how she would say it. Deciding now was as good a time as any, she walked up to the porch and knocked lightly on the door frame. A moment went by. No response. She knocked more forcefully this time and again waited. No answer. Sabrina turned and looked up and down the street to see if Carla might be outside. Around a curve in the road, she caught sight of a woman strolling toward a pasture of trees. Maybe it’s Carla, she thought.

  Sabrina jogged toward her but lost sight when she slid into the cover of the trees. Running into the pasture, Sabrina spotted her about a hundred yards ahead, admiring the neatly kept wildflowers just off the gravel path. Sabrina eyed the sign to her right: Welcome to Oceanside Lookout Park. She hurried up to her and smiled: It was Carla.

  She was dressed in a long dark casual skirt and a pastel long-sleeve top. Although her face suggested interest in the nearby nature, her body language hinted she labored from the shock of her husband’s death—possibly more so than at the funeral.

  “Carla?” Sabrina asked cheerfully.

  Carla whipped around and stared menacingly at Sabrina. “How dare you track me down in my own neighborhood? How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone?”

  “I’m only trying to help you,” Sabrina pleaded. “I just came here to see if you’d be willing to give me a chance.”

  “Well, you’ve run out of chances. Now I have to insist that you please leave me alone,” Carla said in a raised voice. She then turned and headed farther into the park.

  Shit. She was blowing it. “I have evidence Eric’s death may not be an accident.” She knew it wasn’t confirmed—at least not yet—but she had to say something.

  Carla’s frame froze. She slowly turned and motioned to a nearby boulder.

  Sabrina understood. Carla wanted her to share what she knew. “Thank you, Mrs. Sanchez,” she replied. “I promise I won’t take up too much of your time.”

  Carla fell onto the boulder in a clump of exhaustion as Sabrina sat beside her. “I want to make one thing clear,” Carla whispered. “I’ve decided to listen to you only to explain yourself further.”

  Sabrina nodded. Time would not be on her side.

  “What do you know?” Carla asked.

  Sabrina caught a look of anticipation in Carla’s eyes. “Are you sure you want to relive those last couple of days?”

  Carla nodded slowly. “I already am. I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

  Sabrina took a breath and pointed to her sling. “It all started with this.”

  Carla’s eyes met where Sabrina pointed but she didn’t say anything.

  “I know showing up at your funeral on Saturday upset you, but I was there as a compassionate human being … not a reporter.”

  Carla rolled her eyes. “Please! Are you expecting to get on my good side so I’ll tell you my most personal thoughts? There’s not a chance of that happening.”

  Sabrina looked into Carla’s sad eyes, which didn’t seem to match the venom in her voice.

  Carla continued the verbal assault: “Really. What is wrong with you? Are you some sort’ve L.A. celebrity blogger out to get me?

  “No. … It’s not like that at all,” Sabrina responded defensively. “I came to the funeral to tell you Eric Sanchez’s life was worth more than a blurb in the paper—that his life deserved to be celebrated. Now I believe there’s more to it. … I know there’s more to it.”

  Carla looked at Sabrina’s arm. “Why do you say that? And where does the sling fit in?”

  Her questions were fair, but her accusing tone made it difficult for Sabrina to concentrate on what she was going to say. “After I left the funeral, I got into an accident which sent me to the ER,” she replied.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, but how does that relate to me?” Her voice was calmer.

  “Because it was deliberate.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Somebody left a note in my car warning me to stay away. And then the accident happened—too much of a coincidence for my taste.”

  “Well, maybe that person is right,” Carla said flatly.

  You bitch, Sabrina thought. But she couldn’t let Carla see her anger otherwise she’d never get a chance to explore Eric’s past. Sabrina took a deep breath. “I ended up in the hospital.”

  “You must’ve ended up at Oceanside Community—over on Sunset Avenue.”

  Sabrina tapped her arm. “While I was there getting my shoulder reset, I got into a conversation with the ER doctor. He wanted to know what brought me to Oceanside in the first place. That’s when I told him about your terrible loss.”

  Sadness colored Carla’s face.

  “He knew the name right away—said he had treated him on a Friday just before he was last seen.”

  “I don’t understand.” Carla seemed puzzled. “Friday? He was at work. He never told me about a doctor’s visit.”

  “That may be true … for most of the day. But in the evening he came to the hospital complaining of dizziness.”

  “Are you sure the doctor was talking about my husband?”

  “Yes. He knew the name. He had even been in once before.”

  “No
w that is true. He did go to the ER about two months ago. He was a bit dehydrated from having the flu. I guess I just don’t understand how he could have been at the hospital on that Friday. If I remember correctly, he was working late and he told me as much.”

  “Not to be impolite, but maybe he really didn’t want to tell you what was going on.”

  “I can’t believe that.” Carla looked away as a tear worked its way down her face. “He told me everything.”

  Sabrina sat quietly and watched Carla’s movements. Remarkably, they were still talking. Even more remarkable was she seemed to be warming to Sabrina. That’s when she decided to keep pushing. “What about organ donations? Did he ever say anything to you about that?”

  Carla pondered the question. “Not sure why he would be involved in that. We both worked in pharmaceutical research.”

  She seems engrossed, Sabrina thought. “That’s what I find s interesting. The ER doctor seemed to remember him saying something about organ donations.”

  “During the visit to the hospital?”

  “Apparently.”

  Carla was thinking hard back to those last days. “I just don’t have any recollection of Eric being involved in organ donation or transplant research. It just wouldn’t make sense.”

  “Did he work with anybody?”

  “He did. He worked every day with someone he had known since college.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “He apparently left BioHumanity to take a job in Europe. It was a huge loss for the research they had been working on. But Eric was determined to carry on—until it was complete. He was working on a new drug to fight breast cancer.”

  “Breast cancer?” A jolt of emotion brewed within her.

  A nod. “He felt what he was doing could save lives and he poured his heart into it.”

  “My mother was diagnosed five years ago,” Sabrina replied

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Her demeanor suggested honest concern.

  “It was a harrowing time for my sister and me. But,” Sabrina said optimistically, “she beat it, and has been in remission for three years now.” Then she added, “I don’t know what I would’ve done without her.”