by Suzi Weinert
Jennifer moved to her mother’s bedside. The lights in surrounding machines blinked rhythmically to the telemetry’s steady beep. Despite the tube protruding from her mouth, her mother seemed to sleep peacefully. The array of monitoring gadgetry confirmed this.
Jennifer touched her mother’s hand. No reaction. “It’s Jen, Mom. I’m right here with you. The doctor says you’re going to be fine.” This hedged the truth, but positive thoughts couldn’t hurt. “Just get a little better every minute until you’re soon back in your own familiar home.”
But would her home seem familiar? Still a crime scene, the ransacked house wasn’t habitable until straightened up. She didn’t know who her mother hired to clean house before the arrival of the “Does.” In earlier years, her mother knew everyone on the block, who would gladly offer cleaning referrals. But some died, others moved, and instead of a street of residents her mother’s age, now middle-aged retirees and some young families comprised the neighborhood.
She could hire a cleaning team from the yellow pages or Angie’s List. She made a mental note.
What about the missing-items-list Goodwin needed? To recreate what they’d taken, Jennifer needed her mother’s help because she couldn’t remember what belonged where. When her mother recovered enough to return home, would this awful experience still shake her too much emotionally or physically to do this task? Would she even remember what happened to her for the statement Goodwin needed to track and prosecute these criminals?
Jennifer sank into the chair. When young and in college, going without sleep for twenty-four hours was easy, but such marathons betrayed her quickly in her sixties. Her watch said 9:00pm. She could dash to her mother’s home, catch a few Z’s and return at 6:00am. Her mother didn’t need her constant vigilance while in safe hands here, asleep or awake. On the other hand, if her recovery deteriorated enough for serious decisions her mother had authorized her to make, then she belonged at her side. What to do?
She shifted uncomfortably in the chair for half an hour and started making a to-do list for tomorrow when the next concern struck her. With the house a crime scene, she couldn’t spend the night there. The missing Mercedes keys were linked onto house keys, now in the Does’ possession. What if they returned for something left behind during their hasty departure? Flimsy crime-scene tape wouldn’t deter them.
She took a card from her purse, called the deputy on her cell and described her concerns.
“Get a hotel tonight. Maybe off-season rates at a resort or something reasonable near the Naples exits on I-75. Tomorrow you can change the locks on your mother’s house. Maybe even install a security system. Just keep your cellphone handy in case I need to reach you. Do you need help finding a place to stay tonight?”
“No, I should solve this with my cell. My laptop’s in my rental car. Are you still on duty?”
“Yeah, you might say I work a lot of hours now keeping busy…”
“…because,” she nudged.
“It’s personal. I hope we’ll wind this case up soon. Chelsea’s meeting the sketch artist now, which helps us ID them and put out a BOLO. With their head start, they could make it to another state by now, especially if they ditched the Mercedes.”
Next, she called Jason, described the day’s improbable events and asked his advice for her decision.
“Dear Jen, I know you—you want to stay by your mother. But there’s a practical side. At the hospital, she’s in capable hands, but soon she’ll rely on your hands. Even if she were in perfect health, you’d have a super-full next few days just dealing with the crime situation. Add to that caring for her and maybe even starting the moving-north discussion…”
“I see what you mean. Tomorrow I’m where the buck stops. You’re right, Jay. I’ll find a hotel.”
“Remember, I can fly down there if…”
“You’re a sweetheart, hon. If I didn’t already love you, I would now.”
He laughed. “Now get some sleep. Tomorrow’s a busy day. You’ll make a lot of decisions. I have complete faith in your judgment. Love you, Jen.”
“You, too, Jay.”
When she unpacked her pajamas at the hotel, a pair of eyes stared up from the suitcase. She didn’t remember packing the dragon, but that whole hasty departure process blurred in her mind.
Well, why not. Wasn’t this her mascot?
CHAPTER 14
Startled awake the next morning by the ringing phone, Jennifer fumbled for the receiver. “Good morning. This is your 6:00am wake-up call,” spoke the automated voice. She hung up, stretched and looked around the hotel room. A fringe of daylight illuminated the perimeter of the room-darkening curtains she’d closed last night. What would this day bring?
She dressed quickly, threw her belongings into the suitcase, grabbed the hotel bill shoved under her door and headed for the lobby. On the way out, she grabbed complimentary coffee and breakfast snacks to eat in her rental car.
At the hospital by 7:00am, she hurried to ICU just in time to see three physicians doing morning rounds. The doctor introduced himself and his two accompanying residents.
“Hello. How’s my mother today?” Jennifer asked as the three consulted the chart filed at the foot of the bed.
“Diazepam, urine and blood screens. Looks like an overdose,” the lead physician said to his residents in tow. “The half-life effect increases with age and she’s,” he consulted the chart, “eighty-seven, so she got here in the nick of time. Resuscitation, intubation and life support usually from one to three days. Basically, she’s in a drug-induced coma with probable recovery, but it’s still too soon to tell. Was this a suicide attempt?”
Jennifer blanched. “No. Isn’t it on her chart? We found her bound, gagged and drugged by criminals who robbed her house. They left her doped, not caring if she died. It’s a miracle we found her in time.”
The doctor scrutinized the chart before adding, a bit sheepishly, “Sorry about that. Yes, it’s here. So she’s a mighty lucky woman.”
“Is this ‘diazepam’ a common drug?”
“That’s generic for valium.”
“Before you go, Doctor, I appreciate your hospital’s quick ER diagnosis and your ICU care. Did you just say her coma may last several days?”
“Depends on various factors, but that’s typical absent unexpected complications.” The three made ready to leave. “Nice meeting you,” the doctor said as they left to visit the next room.
Unexpected complications? So her mother wasn’t safe yet. Jennifer kissed her forehead. Oh Mom, she thought, please pull through this. Please.
Sitting down in the chair beside the bed, she opened her purse, removed her cellphone and made a 10:00am locksmith appointment. She’d call the bank about freezing accounts. Next, she arranged for the insurance agent to assess damage to the house at 11:00am. She hired a cleaning team to arrive at 3:00pm and in between, she’d try to figure what the Doe couple had stolen. Last, she phoned the detective to explain her plans.
“How’s your mother?” Goodwin asked.
“No change. Any progress?”
“We’re matching Chelsea’s sketches with face recognition. Nothing yet. We should have fingerprint analysis this morning. Police found the Mercedes up in Atlanta. The perp probably traded it for another ride, maybe also stolen. But I have some good news: although they trashed your mother’s house, for some reason they respected her car. We’ll get it back in Florida in a few days and after evidence-check, your mother gets her car back, ready to drive.”
Given the expired license issue, Jennifer swallowed hard. “Thanks, Deputy. What should I do about the crime scene tape? I’d like to spend the day pulling the house back together…. You’ll meet me there? Okay. Twenty minutes. See you then.”
She ended the call and bent over the sleeping figure on the bed. “Mom, I’m going now to tidy up the house for your return. I hope it will look much the way you remember. Meantime, concentrate on getting better. By the way, I saw Chelsea last night. She sends her
love and expects to see you in her salon chair next Saturday, right on schedule. I’ll return later today. Love you, dear Mom.”
Her mother didn’t move, but Jennifer hoped this comatose figure in the bed absorbed her daughter’s familiar voice and comforting chatter.
After reminding the nursing station how to locate her, Jennifer drove to her mother’s house. She picked up the newspaper in the driveway.
Cliff Goodwin waited in his car at the curb when she arrived. “Good morning.” He joined her on the sidewalk, carrying a sack. As they approached the front door, he handed the bag to her while he balled up the crime scene tape. “I’ll go in first,” he said.
Inside, the trashing looked worse than Jennifer remembered. Shock at what she first saw, coupled with fear for her mother’s safety must have numbed the original impact. Now every detail showed the Does’ disregard for her mother’s belongings in their frenzy to uncover valuables.
Goodwin waited while she pulled herself together. He righted a fallen chair. “When does the insurance agent get here?”
“Eleven.”
“Okay, that gives you three hours to go room-to-room and snap pictures of the mess. The agent will take pics, too, but you probably want your own set. And you can start a list of missing items for your mother’s verification when she returns. I need a copy and insurance will want one, too. Here,” he indicated the sack Jen still clutched, “I brought coffee and donuts.”
Jennifer couldn’t help smiling. Goodwin’s gruff act covered a softer side. “Thanks, they smell tempting. In the two hours before the locksmith comes, I understand what needs to happen. When the insurance agent finishes, I’ll try to straighten this place for Mom’s return.”
“Yeah, and if your mother’s like everybody else, her jewelry’s in her bedroom or the refrigerator, where you can check to see if anything’s left.” Jennifer frowned at this just as his phone rang.
“Yeah…. Yeah…. Good. Keep the pressure on.” Hanging up, he turned to Jennifer. “Hey, I got some good news. We got a fingerprint match on the guy. Frances isn’t the first senior he burglarized and doped. He has an M.O.”
“M.O.?”
“Modus operandi. Didn’t know I speak Latin, did ya? It means the way he does things. Perps like to repeat what worked last time. It forms a pattern.”
“What…what’s his real name?”
“Max Roderick. Nothing on the girl yet. Maybe she’s new—someone he picked up on the way. We have a nationwide alert out for them. But if Roderick’s flush with cash, he’s harder to find. Did your mother keep cash in the house?”
“I …I really don’t know.”
How much else didn’t she know about her mother?
CHAPTER 15
Jennifer parked at the hospital and headed for the ICU. Her day had gone well. She undid chaos at the house enough that the cleaning team found furniture upright, drawers returned to bureaus and desks, cushions on chairs, some paintings rehung and kitchen cupboards refilled and closed.
Roderick had emptied the freezer, looking for hidden valuables, but she made the wet, food-flecked kitchen floor look normal again. She began a list of suspected stolen goods for her mother to complete. Most important, the house felt safe with new locks and security system. Had all this madness really happened in only twenty-four hours since she’d arrived in Florida?
She entered her mother’s ICU curtained cubicle. “Hi, Mom,” she said to the sleeping figure. “It’s Jennifer. I’m back. What a day.” She described accomplishments, doubting her mother understood but hoping her soothing voice comforted. She stroked her mother’s hand, the one without the IV, and listened to the beeping machines.
“Jason sends his love. He’s ready to fly down here if we need him. He thinks you’re the best mother-in-law a guy ever had, so you’ve really won him over.” Some people, after regaining consciousness, reported they’d understood nearby conversations while “out.” But what to say? “Guess I’ll update you on your five grandchildren who are, of course, by default, my children.”
“Dylan’s the oldest, as you know, and his kiddies are Asa, Christopher, Ethan and Gabe. Then daughter, Kaela, and her husband, Owain, have three little cuties: Christine, Alicia and Milo. We baby-sat them a few months ago during the diamond scare, which got way too dangerous but somehow ended okay. Those little ones, your great-grandchildren, thought they’d had a great adventure with us, though their parents understandably didn’t.” She looked for response from the sleeping figure but saw none.
“Son Mike and wife, Bethany, have three children—all girls. Funny how Dylan has all sons and Mike, all daughters. But the cousins are close since their parents live within a couple hours of us, so we get together often for family events and holidays. You attended a lot of those on your many visits with us in McLean.”
Jennifer tickled her mother’s toes through the blanket but felt no response. “Daughter Hannah and Adam still act like newlyweds, though they’ve been married a year. After he subdivides extra acres on property he inherited, they’ll start building the new house they’ve designed. He broke his leg during a fire at their old house, but he’s fine now. Becca, our twenty-year-old ‘baby,’ just graduated from college and is looking for the ‘right’ job. She has a real zest for life. Her current boyfriend is Nathan Sommer, a firefighter and medic who comes from a big family like ours. We hope Becca likes him as much as we do, but she’s still playing the field.”
She touched her mother’s arm, then patted her cheek. The coma wore on.
“You may not hear any of this, Mom, but I hope you sense someone who loves you sits right beside you.”
Jennifer eased back in the chair and closed her own eyes after an exhausting but successful day. She’d sleep at the house tonight with the new locks and security system. She’d stock the fridge with several days’ meals and some nice wines. With luck, her mother might shake the coma to join her there tomorrow, finding the house much as it looked before this Max Roderick invaded. Would her mother feel paranoia from her traumatic attack? Shouldn’t she be allowed to return to “normal” after the drugging and hospital experiences before Jennifer introduced the life-changing move-to-McLean discussion?
She stood to leave, smoothing her mother’s hair back from her forehead. “Love you, dear Mom. Hope you hear me and know just as you gave me loving care for so many years while I grew up, I’m returning that trust. Good night. See you again early tomorrow.”
She gathered up her purse and started to leave, but wait. Did she hear a new sound among the machine beeps? A moan? She whirled around to see her mother’s eyes flutter open. “Mom?”
The tube prevented speaking, but her mother moaned again. Jennifer hurried to her side. “Mom? Feel like waking up?” Her mother’s eyes opened, stared and closed again.
Rushing to the nurse’s station, Jennifer reported this.
“We’ll send someone in a few minutes. Would you stay with her until we get there?”
Back at her mother’s bedside, Jen chatted on, hoping conversation stimulated impending wakefulness. She talked of familiar restaurants they liked, places they shopped and friends her mother cherished.
Her mother’s eyes opened again, this time trying to focus and understand her surroundings. Jen said, “You’re in a hospital, Mom, because you…you felt sleepy. But now you’re waking up. Wonderful! We have lots to talk about.”
A doctor came in, carrying a chart. He introduced himself. “She came out of it sooner than we guessed. That’s a good sign. We’ll assess her alertness for a few hours before removing the tube from her throat. When we do, the irritation may cause raspy voice for a few days. Then, we’ll move her from ICU to a regular medical ward for observation before discharge.”
“Observation for how long?”
“A day or two. Depends on her progress. A doctor will decide when she’s ready to go. Once she’s up, she’ll feel weak from no exercise, so start her walking as much as feels comfortable. Take her to her regular doctor two da
ys after discharge to confirm her progress.”
“Thank you.”
“She’s pretty feisty to shake the drug coma so fast at age eighty-seven,” he commented.
“Cross your fingers for more of the same.”
“Good luck to you both.”
We’ll need some, big time, Jennifer thought. But she managed a smile for the doctor.
CHAPTER 16
Despite the doctor’s warning, Jennifer felt disheartened at her mother’s struggle to talk after intubation removal. But the older woman sat up, propped against pillows, and displayed increasing alertness. She understood conversations, smiled, frowned and responded to questions by nodding or shaking her head. Where sign language failed, she soon wrote messages on a clipboard. Jennifer felt elated: her mother was “back.”
Jennifer updated her about her flight down, reaching the house with the deputy, what they found and the ambulance ride to the ER. She described the hospital care the past few days and anticipated discharge soon. She explained recovery of the stolen Mercedes and BOLO for “John” and “Jane.” She explained how she’d straightened up the trashed belongings, house-cleaned and dealt with insurance. “Although only your sharp eyes can identify everything missing, Mom.”
So far so good, but too early to burden her with decisions for the future.
“We’ve talked a long time. It’s a lot of information to absorb. Want to rest awhile?”
Her mother’s eyes closed as she considered the question, but then opened. She shook her head.
“Do you feel confused or pretty normal?”
Normal, her mother wrote on the clipboard and turned it toward Jen.
“Anything you’d like to talk about?”
Her mother wrote, Yes. Feel like a fool letting those criminals in my house.
Jennifer patted her mother’s wrinkled hand. “You’re not the only one. Sheriff’s Deputy Goodwin—you’ll meet him soon—says many criminals target seniors for scams like this and worse.”