Samuel looked at him with a strange expression. “Richard, this is more serious than you think. Connors wasn’t the first one. He’s the fourth.”
Taking his hands off his head, Richard turned to face Samuel. “Three more people?”
“All important people—politicians, to be exact.”
Richard waited for Samuel’s explanation. Instead, Samuel scanned around them and said, “Let’s talk in the car.”
The two men picked up their guns from the reception locker and walked back to the car. Once the doors were closed, Samuel talked as he drove off. “The FBI has connected the ‘accidental deaths’ of four politicians that happened over the course of two years. There were two senators, a governor, and a congressman. The all reportedly died in car accidents.
“Review of the autopsy files revealed the coincidence that in two of them, the mechanism of death listed by the pathologist was ‘death from inhibition.’ In the other two cases, the report mentioned multiple wounds and injuries without any signs of inflammatory reaction.”
“That also means they were dead by the time the injury happened, right? Were the accidents a cover up?”
“That’s the theory we’re building on. The autopsies didn’t suggest they were murdered, but they also didn’t report convincing evidence that the accident was the cause of death.”
“Intriguing.”
Samuel pulled onto the highway. “We looked for a motive that could link the four deaths and found a potential connection between three of the four victims. Within the year prior to their deaths, they’d worked on controversial projects which were raising strong opinions and being questioned by some as unethical.”
Interested, Richard asked, “I assume that for Governor Adams it was his not-so-green oil drilling projects, but what about the other two?”
“The first one to die was Senator George Hall,” Samuel answered. “He was a sixty-eight-year-old, far-right Conservative from Nebraska. He was promoting a bill that would allow employers to deny jobs in education and childcare to gay applicants. The other one was Senator Marcia Flowers, a forty-seven-year-old, extreme Liberal from New York. She was a promoter of increasing access to abortions for minors and eliminating the need to notify their parents.”
Richard frowned. “Wait, what on Earth would those two, or their proposals, have in common? They’re opposite extremes of the ideological spectrum. For a killer to go after both of them because of those issues, it would have to be a fanatic something-new. Neither a conservative, nor a liberal.”
“I know. The third death didn’t appear to fit in either. Congressman Michael O’Hara, a thirty-five-year-old Republican, was a promising young politician who’d just been elected as representative for Florida’s 15th District. He never got a chance to make any waves in the political arena. We haven’t found the connection yet.”
Nodding, Richard commented, “I remember O’Hara’s death. It was all over the local news. His car ended up at the bottom of the Indian River.”
Samuel assented. “After Adams’s death, the similarities became harder to ignore. We theorized that there may be a new ideological group—probably a religious sect—with members who are fanatic enough to resort to killing. This group has to include powerful people—either very rich or skilled—who could have plotted the deaths well enough that they almost fooled the FBI. With Bonas’s confession, we might be getting closer to proving our hypothesis.”
Chuckling, Richard shook his head. “Come on! Didn’t you hear her talking about controlling the rain? I doubt that she has enough sane brain cells to plan a crime like that!”
“Wait until you meet Carl Andrews tomorrow. He’s much more pulled together than she is.”
Richard crossed his arms. “There are too many loose ends. We still don’t have an explanation of how those people could’ve been killed, short of the theory that one of them was given an order to die by Bonas’s mental powers. And you admitted that we’re not sure that all four of the murders shared a common motive. You said you haven’t found a reason Michael O’Hara could’ve been hated by this cult.”
Smiling, Samuel answered, “I’m leaving that one to you. Michael O’Hara, my friend, is your baby.”
Confused, Richard looked at him. “Excuse me?”
Samuel nodded. “This is the promotion I promised you. You’re in absolute charge of the Florida division of this National Security investigation. You’ve been assigned as case agent, exclusively to investigate the death of Michael O’Hara.”
Richard was astounded. “Me? Part of a National Security investigation?”
There was no need for him to explain his stupefaction. Richard wasn’t exactly popular among the bureau. He was infamous for his impulsivity, his bad temper, and his after-hours self-indulgence.
Richard pointed at his friend. “Sam, this was your idea, right?”
Samuel chuckled. “Yes, but don’t think this is a personal favor. I know you have a gift. You have an impressive ability to think logically and an amazing photographic memory. But beyond that, I’ve seen you get those unpredictable, lucky shots. You have a gut instinct that has allowed you to put together pieces when nobody thought you would. The bureau’s been wasting your talent by assigning you to undercover missions.”
His headache worsening, Richard held his temples with his hands. “Samuel, I’m not ready to handle this. I’m a rebel, undisciplined, a procrastinator, my personal life is always chaotic—”
“And still you always manage to pull it off at the last minute,” Samuel interrupted. “You’re ready, and you won’t be alone. You’ll have access to resources paralleled only by cases involving terrorism.”
Richard got chills. The government had recently invested an insane amount of money in surveillance technology. After the safety of the country was pronounced more urgent than individual privacy, there was almost no limit to what they could do if the label “National Security” was on the case.
Still, he insisted, “I know you’re trying to advance my career, but you can’t do this to me, Sam. I’m a field agent. My thing is being in the midst of the action. The day I have to take a supervisory desk job I’d rather kill myself. And the last thing I want is getting stuck in this dead town even longer. I’m way overdue for a transfer. You know they sent me here as a punishment, and the sentence has lasted five years.”
Samuel chuckled. “And I bet you already learned your lesson: not to hook up with your supervisor’s daughter. Come on. I have so much faith in you that I’m willing to make a deal.” Samuel changed lanes to pass the typical Fort Sunshine senior driver moving painfully slowly down the passing lane. “I’ll give you a chance to experience what being in charge is without the pressure of damaging your record if you screw up. I’ll put the case in my name, but you will be running the show. Try it for a few weeks. I know that once you have a taste of power, you’ll beg me to let you be in charge.”
The signal for an instant message on Richard’s phone interrupted his thoughts.
He read, Ready anytime you are. Kate.
He slapped his forehead. “Oh, shit! I completely forgot that I’m supposed to drive Kate and Nana to the doctor today! Hurry up! Drop me at my car!”
Richard knew his hurry was in vain. Samuel was the safest driver in the world, and no pressure would make him go over the speed limit.
“Everything okay with Kate?” Samuel asked.
Richard sighed. “It’s not Kate this time; it’s Nana. She’s not doing well. She’s been on chemotherapy for metastatic breast cancer but is no longer responding. Her oncologist referred her to some hospice house. That’s where we’re going.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, man. I know that she’s someone close to your heart.”
Samuel was right. Richard had fallen prey to the lady’s motherly love spell while dating her niece, Kate. He’d remained close with Nana after he broke off that stormy relationship three years ago. Nana was only sixty-seven—the peak of life for Fort Sunshine’s standards.
The snowbird-filled traffic was slower than ever. Samuel exited the highway. “Wow! I know you’re on great terms with your ex-girlfriend. But going to a hospice house? The place where people are sent to die?” He shuddered. “That sounds horrible!”
“That’s what I said, but some neighbor spoke wonders about this place when her mother went there. She highly recommended the doctor in charge.”
“Who’s the doctor? With a job like that, he must be the creepiest freak ever.”
“I don’t know him yet. It’s some Dr. Cliburn, or Clayton, something like that.”
Chapter 2
As he drove closer to the main entrance of the beige and blue building, Richard was relieved to see a late-middle-aged man with a shirt reading VALET PARKING rushing to greet him and take his keys. Simultaneously, a teenage girl emerged from the building with a wheelchair and helped him get Nana out of the car. He appreciated the help of someone with smaller hands. The elderly lady had grown so frail he was afraid of breaking her bones by handling her.
As they approached the automatic sliding glass doors, Richard held his breath. Memories of cold, bleach-smelling hallways and white and gray walls filled his mind. It had been a long time since his father died; but still, every time he’d dropped Nana off at one of her chemotherapy sessions, the same painful memories returned to haunt him.
When they went through the doors, he felt relieved. The place didn’t look like a hospital. The reception area was decorated to mimic a hotel lobby. Soft music played in the background. Colorfully dressed staff greeted them with big smiles.
“Hello, my dears! How can I help you?” A young, bubbly blonde with a delightful Southern accent and a contagious smile greeted them. She sat behind a counter resembling a hotel reception area.
“I hope we don’t need to reschedule. We had an appointment with the doctor half an hour ago. This is Arianna Keller.”
The girl handed them a clipboard binder full of documents. “You’re okay, darling. Here’s your paperwork. One of the girls will bring you in shortly. In the meantime, help yourself to some of our chocolate chip cookies.”
After the shortest waiting room time he’d ever experienced, a chirpy medical assistant introduced herself as “Sue” and took them into what she said was an examination room—it looked more like a cozy living room. Nana was delighted to find out one of the sitting options was a rocking chair.
Kate sat in an armchair next to Nana, and Richard sat on a tan leather love seat. It was very comfortable. Sleep deprived from the night before and listening to the relaxing music playing, he wished he could fall asleep while waiting, but he knew his headache would keep him awake.
After taking Nana’s vitals, the medical assistant offered them a choice of several classic comedies to watch while they waited. Richard chose Seinfeld. He was impressed. He’d seen TVs in waiting rooms but never in exam rooms. It was brilliant.
He had no idea how much time had passed. He, Nana, and Kate were laughing to tears when the door opened. An upbeat feminine voice said, “Hello! Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Dr. Clayton.”
Richard looked up, surprised. Dr. Clayton was a woman—quite a good-looking woman to be precise.
While she greeted each of the three of them with a firm handshake and a smile, he took note of the petite brunette woman. He would’ve never guessed she was the doctor; she seemed quite young. She wasn’t wearing a white coat or a business suit. Instead, she wore dangling crystal jewelry and a bright royal-blue dress, tight enough to show the appealing curves of her body.
While she asked Nana questions about her symptoms and performed a physical examination right in the rocking chair, he glanced at her legs—not bad at all. Instinctively, he glimpsed at her left hand—a diamond wedding ring.
“So, Nana, we have to work better on your pain control,” she said.
As she talked and scribbled down some notes, Richard studied her face. Her eyes were dark, loaded with eyelashes, but her mouth was her best attribute. It was big, with sensual, plump lips.
“Okay,” the doctor said. “We have a good starting plan. Any questions?”
There was a brief silence, and then Nana asked, “How long?”
“How long what?”
“How long do I have to live?”
Holding his breath, Richard eyed the doctor, wondering what she’d answer.
Her eyes softening, Dr. Clayton smiled. Her voice was surprisingly upbeat, almost playful. “How am I supposed to know? I can cross the street tomorrow and be hit by a truck, and you’d end up going to my funeral!”
Nana laughed softly and so did Richard.
“See?” the doctor said. “How do you expect me to guess how long you have? Only God can tell.”
“But I’m going to die, right?”
Nana’s expression was serious again, but the doctor’s smile didn’t wane. “We are all going to die. Most of us have no idea when. Some of us, like you, have had the mixed blessing of having a little notice in advance.”
Richard cringed. Talk about seeing the glass half full.
“Many people don’t wake up from sleep,” she continued. “They never get a chance to put their business in order. That’s the chance you have now.”
Leaning forward from her rolling stool, the young doctor held Nana’s hands and looked in her eyes. “This is the time to make a list of all the things you’ve always wanted to do and couldn’t—see how many of those are still feasible. This is the time to call anybody you love and haven’t spoken to in a while, the time to make peace with anybody you still need to make peace with. How long is that time going to be? No one can tell, but we take it one day at a time. Some days, one hour at a time. It may not be up to you how much time you have, but it’s up to you how you use it.”
Nana was silent, assimilating the words. She nodded in approval and said, “You’re right. But I wish I didn’t have to go this soon.”
“Nana, do you have faith?”
Richard blinked rapidly. There was that word again, Laura Bonas’s word.
“Yes, I do,” answered Nana.
Dr. Clayton’s voice was soft. “So do I. I know that uncertainty feels scary right now; but I do believe that when that transition time comes, you’ll be fine. I know that you’ll be going to a much better place.”
“I believe that, too, doctor. But, see, my granddaughter’s pregnant—with a girl. It’s my first great-grandchild. It’s sad to think that I’m going to die without seeing her.”
Moved, Dr. Clayton straightened herself on her chair. “When is your granddaughter due?”
“In three months.”
“Oh, that’s not that long. I think you can make it.”
Nana’s eyes beamed. “Do you think so? My oncologist, Dr. Levenstein, told me I had only a few weeks to live!”
Rolling her eyes, Dr. Clayton shook her head. She used a dramatic, funny tone of voice to say, “But he’s a man. You know you can never believe what a man tells you!”
Nana and Kate laughed, and Richard pretended to be offended to add to the joke; but he was relieved by the lightening of the conversation.
Nana asked Dr. Clayton, “Have you had other patients in my condition, no longer on chemotherapy, that have lived more than a few weeks?”
“Sure! Right now, we have a couple of guests who had to ‘renew their contracts’ because they’ve been here for a year, and the hospice documents weren’t prepared for that. It happens all the time.”
“Do you think I can do it?”
The doctor paused. “There are no guarantees in life, but it’s worth a try. Tell me something, is your granddaughter here in town?”
“Yes.”
“Have you gone with her to one of her prenatal appointments to see the baby on the ultrasound?”
“No. I’ve been too busy with the chemo appointments and lab draws.”
Dr. Clayton lifted her hands. “That makes no sense! The chemo was supposed to prolong your life, but then the extra time that it was bu
ying you was being invested on boring things?”
Nana smiled. “You’re right.”
Dr. Clayton scribbled some notes on the clipboard she held. “Our ultimate goal is having you be there when your great-granddaughter is born. But first, let’s work on the short-term goal of getting you relatively pain-free so you can make it to an ultrasound appointment.”
Nana smiled. “We have a plan.”
“Any other questions?”
“No.”
The doctor got up from her stool and gave Nana a long hug. Nana hugged her back, with her eyes closed and a blissful smile.
Releasing the hug, Dr. Clayton said, “Now follow Sue, and she’ll give you a tour.”
The cheerful medical assistant led them, talking with enthusiasm. “Oh! You’re going to love this place. We have lots of fun here. Let me start by taking you to the pool area.”
After Nana was loaded back in her wheelchair, Kate pushed her, following Sue. Both women were smiling. Sue’s enthusiasm was contagious.
Dr. Clayton was walking away, when Richard stopped her.
“Doctor, can I ask you some questions?”
She froze and then turned around slowly, her hands clasping the clipboard. Her eyes flicked toward the clock on the hallway wall before returning to his with a forced smile. “Sure, go ahead.”
“Don’t you think you gave a dying woman false hope?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“I’m Richard.”
She sighed. “Richard, there’s no such thing as false hope. Hope is hope, and it’s the ultimate right of a person to hold onto it until the end.”
“But you admit the end is close. Why sugarcoat the truth?”
Her dark brown eyes were penetrating, piercing. Her voice was soft. “And do you think her life would be any better if I’d told her to not bother getting out of bed because it was a matter of days, anyway?”
Richard stammered, “Well . . . at least she’d be prepared.”
“We talked about being prepared, didn’t we?”
Richard didn’t answer.
Beyond Physical Page 2