The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  The coffee pot nearly fell from Frank’s hand. “You found this place tonight?”

  “Yes, it’s new,” Ellen said.

  “No, it’s not.’ Frank walked to the table. “It’s been here forever.”

  Ellen gasped with a swipe to Dean who was engrossed in his work. “See, I told you no one wanted us in here. They hid it from us.”

  “They did not.” Frank sat down with them. “They probably assumed you knew. How the fuck you two can live in Beginnings for eight years and not know the clinic had a lunch room is beyond me. Why is Dean being rude?”

  Dean answered as he stayed focused on a chart, “Dean’s not being rude. Dean’s working.”

  “Oh.” Frank sipped his coffee. “El, you look way too tired. Why don’t you come back to the house with me? We could . . .” Dropping his voice to a whisper, he leaned to her. “We could sleep together.”

  Up raised Dean’s eyes. “I’m right here, Frank.”

  “Oh, yeah. Forgot. Sorry.” Frank sat back. “But that isn’t what I meant. I meant sleep. El?”

  “I can’t.” She shook her head. “I really have to stay. Dean’s going home soon though.”

  “As in, Dean will fill in for you?” Frank asked.

  Dean lifted his eyes again. “Frank.”

  “No, Dean, don’t ask.” Frank held up as hand. “You may be the same size as Ellen, but you aren’t going to cut it. Sorry.” He finished his coffee and stood. “I’m heading back to check on Robbie and then go back to the house.” Placing his hand on the back on Ellen’s chair, Frank brought his lips to her forehead, held them there for a moment then kissed her quickly. “Night. Oh hey, tomorrow, make some time you two. Me and my Dad have to talk to you.”

  Ellen nodded. “Night, Frank.”

  “Night.” Frank backed up. “Dean.”

  “Frank.”

  “Frank,” Ellen called stopping him. “Are you all right?”

  Frank paused in the doorway and he slowly turned back around. “No,” he said, very seriously. “I’m . . . I’m a mess. I’m trying to be in control for my dad and strong for Robbie, while staring at the pieces of a fucked up situation that blasted Beginnings. It’s just turning into a long night. I can’t stop thinking about what happened, I can’t stop thinking about my little brother, and I can’t stop thinking about that drink that would help to ease it all. And . . . and . . . I am sorry I just rambled on like that. I’m not myself. Go back to work.” He nodded. “Night.”

  Ellen watched Frank move out of the doorway and she turned to Dean, who stared at her.

  “El,” Dean spoke softly. “You’re five minutes from here should anything happen or anyone wakes up, which I doubt.”

  “You’re right.” She stood up and kissed Dean. “Thank you. I love you.”

  Dean only got the chance to grasp her hand and Ellen hurried out of the lounge. He listened to her call out, ‘Frank, wait up’ and then returned to his work. It was a lot to do, reviewing the charts and planning a course of action to take the next day with each new patient. The work would go faster if he wasn’t doing it alone, but it was a choice Dean made to send Ellen home, and in his mind, on a night like they were having, it was the only choice to make.

  ^^^^

  New Bowman, Montana

  Hal had finally reached the point where he had fallen asleep and forgot all about the fact that he was wearing a heavy cast. But the reminder came pummeling back to him when his cast crashed down to the floor as he swung his legs over to climb out of bed.

  It was a late night knock, and that didn’t happen often. Hobbling with concern, wearing only a pair of boxers, Hal turned on lights as he made his way through the living room and opened the door. “Elliott?”

  “Captain.” Elliott stepped inside.

  “What’s wrong?” Hal asked. “It’s two in the morning.”

  Elliott exhaled. “I have some news.”

  “Please don’t tell me it’s my brother.”

  “No.” Elliott shook his head. “It’s not Robbie. It deals with one of our men, Glen, the head Security tracker.”

  “What about him?”

  “He last left his shift yesterday morning. When he failed to show up at midnight tonight, the man he was relieving thought perhaps he had slept in. Time was given and when Glen didn’t show, a man was sent to his home. It appears he passed away sometime in his sleep last night.”

  A sigh escaped Hal. “How?”

  “Heart attack maybe.” Elliott shrugged. “Dr. Blue is giving a preliminary postmortem exam now until we can move the body to have Dr Hayes do an autopsy.”

  “For a heart attack? Unless something looked suspicious to you. Did it?” Hal asked.

  “Not upon first glance, no. It appeared to be he just passed on in his sleep.”

  “Then why the concern, Elliott?”

  Elliott hesitated before answering. “In light of your recent confrontations with Johnny Slagel and the fact that the Bandana of yours doused with Bev’s blood is missing, it just struck me as odd that now your alibi is dead.”

  Wanting to pull a Frank and say ‘fuck’, Hal refrained. He promised himself he would stay in control until he had more answers.

  ^^^^

  “Nice color cast.” Blue commented to Hal upon coming out of an examining room. “Your choice or Elliott’s?”

  Hal kept his demeanor. “Actually, I was unconscious when my sister did this.”

  “You’re lying. I was there.” Blue handed Hal a folder. “From initial examination, it looked like Glen died of natural causes, heart attack, aneurism, cerebral hemorrhage, or something to that effect.”

  “I see.” Hal exhaled some in relief, looked at Elliott then back to Blue. “Thanks Blue. Sorry to wake you. I’ll have him moved in the morning.” He started to leave.

  “To Beginnings, I hope,” Blue spoke up.

  “No.” Hal stopped. “Burial. Why would we send him to Beginnings for a death of natural causes?”

  “Because you weren’t paying attention,” Blue stated.

  “I was too,” Hal snapped.

  “Then you didn’t listen to what I said.”

  “I did too.” Hal took offense. “You said it looked like Glen died of natural causes.”

  “Exactly.” Blue pointed.

  Hal tossed his hands up. “I’m lost. It looked like Glen died of natural causes. Where didn’t I pay attention?”

  “At the tense.”

  “Excuse me?” Hal turned to Elliott. “What am I missing?”

  “I believe . . .” Elliot dropped his voice. “Dr. Blue is being dramatic. He said ‘looked’ as in ‘appeared’, not as in ‘is’.”

  Blue snapped his fingers. “That’s a better wording choice. Thanks, Sergeant. Appeared. It appeared that Glen died of natural causes. Then just as I was covering him up, I saw . . . you know what? Follow me.” Blue went back into the examining room.

  Hal whispered to Elliott as they followed. “Why couldn’t he say this in the first place?”

  “I heard that.” Blue stood by Glen’s body. He pulled what looked like a huge magnifying glass on a stand closer to Glen. “Take a peek.”

  Hal walked over and looked. Through the glass, Blue’s fingers were huge as they pointed to a small dot.

  “Had it not bled, it wouldn’t have left a mark noticeable enough to see,” Blue explained. “That, Captain, is an injection site straight into the sternum.”

  “He was killed?” Hal asked.

  “Could be. That’s my guess.” Blue removed the magnifying glass and covered the body. “We won’t know for sure until Dr. Hayes runs some tests on the blood samples and examines the body. I’m gonna pull the samples now.”

  “Blue, this is under wraps,” Hal instructed. “Until we get confirmation from Dr. Hayes, you say nothing. But I want your documentation of this examination and your initial guess. I want it sealed, dated, and immediately brought to Judge Grace. Tell her to note when you gave it to her. Got that?”


  “Yes.” Blue nodded.

  “Thanks.” Hal limped to the door. “Elliott?”

  After nodding a goodnight to Blue, Elliott followed Hal out and pulled the door closed. “The wheels are turning.”

  “Absolutely,” Hal agreed. “If this was a murder, then whoever did this had the medical knowledge and accessibility to the means to pull this off, which means they work at the clinic. Which means . . .” Hal saw it. It was a look on Elliott’s face that all but said, ‘um, I don’t know about that’. It irritated him. “What? What? What is that look for?” he blasted.

  “Don’t get angry.”

  “Go on.” Hal huffed out.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t Bev Hadley have the means to administer a comatose style drug to John Matoose in the clinic. I don’t think she worked there.”

  Hal winced and swung out his hand into Elliott. “You had to ruin my moment, didn’t you.”

  “I’m just saying the Society equips their people. Your father and others know this. Just because a person is killed by medical means does not mean that a medical professional did it.”

  “Do you have to think of everything?”

  “No,” Elliott said seriously. “I could let you think that you know who did this and you are probably right. I am just taking an outside look. How would you prove it?”

  Hal grew frustrated. “He had the means and the motive. He would be the only one. If he was in New Bowman then . . .”

  “Traffic between the hours of ten P.M. and one AM is heavy. Tracking only registers those coming in after midnight. If he was here already.” Elliott tilted his head with a raise of his hands. “This is an eggshell situation. You know this. Don’t let emotions get ahead of you. For as much as your gut is screaming to you, you can’t point fingers. This is more than just a trusted individual in Beginnings; this is your family. Your nephew may have had the means, but really Captain, what is his motive.”

  “You know what his motive is. Glen was my alibi. He’s setting me up for Bev’s murder.”

  “Again . . .” Elliott played the devil’s advocate. “For what reason? You’re his uncle, his blood. Who was Bev? There’s no established connection between her and Johnny. None. And as far as him setting you up, you handed him the bandana. You pretty much started that ball of wax all on your own. He’s just securing it.”

  Hal’s lips tensed up and released in words that didn’t come out as he stared at Elliott. With a point, Hal opened his mouth and closed it again. After a nod, he turned with a huff. “I hate you.” He limped across the room to the door. “Goodnight, Elliott.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  November 16th

  Frank figured he had to be unusually tired to miss the intruder slipping into the room only after a couple hours of sleep. Normally, he would hear the creak of the floorboards, but instead, Frank found himself face to face with the small Dean look-a-like enemy and his forehead felt the effect of the small finger flicks Billy delivered to wake him.

  Lifting his head, Frank peered over Ellen who slept with her back to him. On top of the covers they laid, a blanket covering them.“What?” Frank asked Billy.

  The facial expression all but screamed ‘attitude’ as Billy raised his eyebrows. “You do realize it takes a lot of nerve to sleep with another man’s wife in his bed.”

  “Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m not sleeping with your mother. I’m sleeping with your mother.”

  “Don’t think this won’t go on my list of reasons not to worship you.”

  “Like I care. What did you want? It’s not even light out yet.”

  “You’re emotionally scarring me by subjecting me to this . . . this lewd behavior.”

  Frank gasped in disgust. “Go back to bed. No wait. Go make me coffee.”

  “Make it yourself.” Billy folded his arms, spun his little body, and stormed out of the bedroom.

  “Man what an attitude. Two days ago, the kid liked me.”

  Ellen mumbled from her pillow, “Dean’s brainwashing him.”

  “Oh, that makes sense now.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Five.”

  Without hesitation, Ellen flung the covers from her, swung her legs around, and stood up.

  “El? What are you doing?”

  “I have to get back to the clinic.” She raced to her dresser.

  “El, come on.” Frank sat up in bed. “You just went to sleep.”

  “I know.” She tossed a fresh shirt over her head. “I’ll sleep later, but right now there’s a lot of people going to wake up to a lot of painful realities this morning.”

  Frank nodded and threw the covers off of his legs.

  “What are you doing? You don’t have to get up.”

  “Yeah, I do.” Frank picked his shirt up from the floor. “I have mini Mussolini running around this house. I don’t trust him. Go finish getting ready. I’ll make coffee.”

  “Thank you.”

  Frank leaned to her and kissed her. “Thanks for sleeping with me last night.”

  “I heard that,” Billy’s mouth blasted from another room.

  Grunting and biting his bottom lip with a shake of his head, Frank left the bedroom.

  ^^^^

  There was a series of senses that began to awaken Robbie. First were the voices, a woman’s and his father’s.

  “I’ll see if he’ll eat. If not, maybe later,” Joe spoke in a morning voice, quiet so as not to wake up Robbie.

  Then Robbie smelled the coffee, fresh as only morning coffee could smell, and then he felt the slight headache that rested just behind his right eye.

  The final sense, possibly not even considered a sense at all, was what brought Robbie into full consciousness.

  Reality.

  “I got it!” Hal’s voice reverberated in his memory.

  “Robbie, let’s go.”

  “It’s too late.

  The remembrance of the explosion caused a painful twitch in Robbie’s gut, but not as much as what happened after.

  ‘Frank’ He felt so weak, it took all he had to get his brother’s name from his mouth when Frank found him. He didn’t quite recall where he was at that moment. He had lost consciousness and all feeling in his body. All he knew was that he was all right. He was alive. Frank was there.

  He slipped back out of it right after Frank tossed him over his shoulder. Being brought to Dean and laid upon the ground was a blur. Foggy vision hindered him from seeing his father clearly then. He only heard his voice. Robbie felt as if he just wanted to sleep until, like a shot of caffeine directly into his veins, he was snapped into painful awareness when Dean brought that smoldering piece of wood to him.

  With the thought of that action came the reality of the consequences. Robbie knew any prayer or hope he had that none of it happened would all be in vain.

  He could have used the excuse that somehow they saved his arm by reasoning that he felt it, his fingers, forearm, everything but Robbie knew better. He knew that he probably would feel that arm for a long time despite the fact that it wasn’t there.

  Or was it?

  He didn’t know for sure. Perhaps Dean did perform a miracle. Perhaps he remembered something wrong. With that thinking, he slowly turned his head to the right and with his eyelids separated only a little, Robbie looked.

  Bandages and then . . . nothing else.

  Robbie’s eyes closed and with a predominant pout of his lips, he swallowed the harsh reality.

  “Hey,” Joe called out softly. “You’re awake.”

  Robbie felt his father’s lips touch on his forehead and his hand run slowly over the top of his head. There was nothing more Robbie wanted to do than not respond, keep his eyes closed, hope he fell back to sleep, and wake up later to see it was all a dream. But he knew better. There was no changing it. No turning back the clock. He had to face it.

  With the knowledge that he would hit low times, he made a promise to himself. The moment he just had would be the last he inte
ntionally wallowed in pity. He wasn’t going to feel sorry for himself. Not there. Not him.

  With a nod and a deep breath, Robbie turned his head upright and opened his eyes. “Hey Dad.”

  Joe smiled as he sat on the edge of Robbie’s bed. “I was very worried about you. How ya feeling?”

  “In a little pain. Not much,” Robbie responded with some grogginess.

  “Do you remember what happened?” Joe asked compassionately.

  “Yeah, I do,” Robbie answered, and then his eyes looked wide. “Dad, Jess, the others . . .”

  Joe held up a halting hand. “Jess suffered some burns. They were bad ones but Dean says he’ll pull through. The others some suffered minor injuries except Jason. We . . . we lost Jason.”

  “Ah man.” Robbie’s head dropped some. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

  “Thanks.” He gave a firm squeeze to Robbie’s hand. “I want concentrate on you. O.K.? I need to, so how about letting me?”

  Robbie nodded. He tried to hide his sadness, but he guessed his father sensed it when he slipped the fingers of his left hand into his father’s and squeezed.

  “Hey.” Joe leaned closed to him. “You’re a strong man, very strong. You’ll get through this.”

  “I know. It could be worse,” Robbie’s voice cracked. “I could be dead. It could have been my legs. My left arm . . .” Robbie looked up. “I’d never form a chord again if I lost that. My hair, it could have been my hair.” He tried to smile.

  With a slight chuckle, Joe kissed him on the cheek. “You got a lot of people who love you. We’re here for you. We’ll help you.”

  “I’ll probably take advantage of you.”

  “Probably.” After a pat to Robbie’s hand, Joe stood up. “How about breakfast? The ladies were in bright and early this morning making up nice hospital trays.”

  “Maybe just the coffee.”

  “You sure?” Joe rolled the tray over that held his food. He lifted the tin covering. “Look at that. Eggs. Toast.” He took a whiff. “And . . . oatmeal. Mmm.”

  Robbie snickered sadly.

  “A little fork wrapped up.” Joe lifted the silverware in the napkin. “Just a few bites?”