by Peg Brantley
Names, dates, medical issues, payments—everything. The journal began more than two years ago. Easily a hundred people. Pages and pages documenting the donors and the recipients by name and blood type. Most of the donors’ names had a cash figure associated with them. Anywhere from two hundred to five thousand dollars. Some of them simply said N/A. He looked for Rachelle Benavides or José Sanchez and found them near the end. The blood test results from the ER patients at Memorial were also there. Twenty new names had come in last week. Potential body parts ready to be harvested for the right amount of money.
He looked for Efraín Madrigal’s name. He saw the young man’s name spelled out with an offer of two hundred to five hundred dollars indicated, and a split second later he froze.
No. He must be reading this wrong. He blinked and felt his heart crashing around in his chest like a captured lion.
Chase put his fingers on the page and followed them along the columns. Under remarks. There. Two names that made his world eclipse to a sliver. David Waters. Angela Waters.
* * *
Think. Think. Read this again. It didn’t make sense. Why would the names of two of his children be in this kind of register? He forced himself to read carefully. Slowly. Understand the words. Determine the implication.
He sat and pieced together the information. It didn’t take long. The records were thorough.
Two years ago a current client of the Preston Clinic had been the recipient, through legitimate means, of both a lung and a kidney, and was apparently very lucky to have found a compatible donor. She had a rare blood type that made it nearly impossible for her to find a match in order to receive what she needed now. A heart.
When Chase and Bond had signed the form to allow David’s organs to be donated, they were not allowed to know the name of the transplant patient. Somehow Adams had gotten access to that information. Under the remarks section, David’s name indicated he’d been the previous donor. The best possible match therefore was David’s sister, Angela. A great deal of money had already been paid to the Preston Clinic as a deposit, with an even more significant sum to be paid upon a successful heart transplant.
The precise ledger indicated that Diana Sloan had checked into the clinic Monday night.
Panic seized Chase. He pulled out his phone to call Bond. The phone hadn’t even rung when he cried out, “Answer, answer!”
“Hi, honey. Still waiting for those warrants?”
“Where’s Angela? Go check on Angela.” The image of the black Mustang crawled into his brain. The Batmobile. The dumpster. Rachelle Benavides.
Angela.
“Chase, what’s wrong?” Bond asked, but he could tell she was moving. On her way to their daughter’s bedroom. He held his breath.
“She’s right here, Chase. I told you. Both girls were in bed when you called a little while ago. You worry too much.”
Chase pictured Bond approaching Angela’s door. Hand on the knob. Turning. His entire world drilled down to what was happening in his home while he stood in an evil man’s study—helpless. He was aware of his heartbeat, his breathing, the hairs on the nape of his neck.
“Chase, everything’s okay. She’s in her bed.”
He squeezed the words out. “Check her, Bond.”
“I don’t want to wake… oh my God, Chase! It’s pillows! She’s not here! Angela is gone!”
Chapter Eighty-Four
Wednesday, September 26
9:41 p.m.
Heather had picked her up at the end of the driveway earlier than ever before, but Angela’s dad wasn’t home and her mom was zonked. In case her mom or dad did check on her later, she’d taken extra special care to arrange her bed to look like she was asleep.
Angela felt pretty with the lipstick and mascara she’d put on in the car. She also felt grownup. And just a little scared. As often as she and Heather had snuck out, they’d never gone to a party or anywhere they absolutely knew for sure their parents would be dead against.
The music made her tummy thump and kids were laughing and shouting all around her. Everyone was drinking and a few people were hooking up in the corners. She wanted to relax a little more and not stick out like a baby.
Heather came up behind her holding two glasses. “Here, take one.” She held one toward Angela.
Angela had to shout. “What is it?” Angela took one of the tumblers and held it up to her nose.
“Mostly pop, but some guy added a little bit of booze to each.”
“What kind of booze?”
“How should I know?”
Angela sipped and watched her friend do the same. She was pretty sure the face Heather made mirrored her own. “Look, I’d say just put them down, but then someone else would just give us something even worse. Let’s hold onto these and walk around.”
Heather nodded and the two began to circulate through the crowded house.
After a while, Heather wandered off to dance with Randall Sprinkleman, a senior at the high school. Angela saw some other friends and went to hang with them for a few minutes. She wished there was a guy here she was interested in.
Someone touched her sleeve. “Excuse me.” She heard the shout in her ear. “Are you Angela Waters?”
She turned and looked into the face of an older man. Well, older than any of the kids who were at the party. He smiled even though the rest of his face looked very serious. “Uh-huh.”
“I have a message for you.”
Oh, no. Who knew she was here? Had Mom or Dad found out? No. If they had, they’d be here in person and they wouldn’t be asking anyone to excuse themselves. “Who from?”
“Can we go outside? I can’t hear myself think in here.”
“Can’t you just tell me?”
“I promised him I’d make sure you understood that he was running late and didn’t want you to leave before he got here.”
“Who?”
The man shook his head. “Please. I don’t want to keep shouting.”
Could it be from that cute new boy in her science class? He’d said something about looking for her at the party. Angela nodded and followed the man outside.
Maybe this guy was his older brother. Angela trailed behind him through the front door and out onto the lawn where it was quieter. He’d looked over his shoulder twice to make sure she was still behind him. Far enough, she thought. Angela stopped and waited for the man to turn around and deliver the message, but he waved her toward him. She took two steps and something wasn’t right.
Angela turned to walk back inside when two powerful arms wrapped around her and a moist cloth pressed over her mouth and nose.
* * *
She woke up in the backseat of a car. Her hands and feet were tied up and all she could do was wiggle a little. Her head hurt and she couldn’t think straight. They must’ve drugged her. She thought she might barf.
How long had she been out? She had a hard time judging time in the best circumstances. But this? Impossible.
Two men argued in the front seat. Something about a necklace. Without warning the car jerked wildly and her head and shoulders fell to the floor. Tires squealed. She called out but her mouth was gagged.
Angela prayed for help. She knew it was one of those groan-type prayers—only hers was more of a shriek inside of her head than a groan—she hoped it would do.
It was hard to breathe and she felt hot. She forced her body to go slack and tried to think. Where were they taking her? Were they going to rape her? She needed to gather as much information as she could if she had any hope of escape.
The car lurched to a stop and the passenger side door opened. She heard the music. The party! They were back at the party. Maybe they’d let her go. Maybe they were just trying to scare her. Teach her a lesson.
The passenger door slammed shut and the car took off. She could tell there was only one other person in the car now. The sudden quiet was eerie. Somehow scarier.
The car shifted, first one direction and then another. Whatever road
they were on was a winding one. She almost gagged. They could be anywhere.
The vehicle slowed down and made a left turn. She expected a bumpy gravel road but the ride remained smooth. They stopped. The driver was talking to someone outside. She heard gates opening and the car pulled forward.
A moment later they went down a steep hill. Reverberation noises told her they’d driven into some kind of structure. Probably a garage. The engine turned off and a door opened and closed.
She heard the snap of a lock and felt the door nearest her head swing wide. Cool air fell onto her face. Hands grabbed her under her arms and jerked her out of the seat. She decided to pretend she was still out.
They laid her on a gurney or something similar. A moment later she heard the clatter of metal on cement, and felt her head explode in pain.
“Easy with the merchandise, idiot.”
“What’s it matter?”
She heard a giggle and then smelled someone’s sour breath. Felt heat by her face. Rather than try to pull away she willed herself to remain still.
“You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, bitch.” She tried not to flinch as the hot, low words slapped her face. “I’m hoping this won’t be easy for you.”
“Does she need more load?”
“Nah. She’s out of it. And besides, a little pain is good for the soul.” The sour stench lessened. “Get her inside.”
Wheeled onto an elevator. Up. Gurney bumped out and pushed on something smooth—like tile. Light flared and receded through the cloth that trapped her eyes.
The gurney slowed. Stopped.
“This the girl?” Fingers touched her wrists. Like feathers. Firm feathers.
“Yeah.”
“Leave her.”
“Fine with me.” The kind of sloppy footsteps her parents hated receded. She could hear her mom’s voice in her head, “Pick up your feet when you walk. Do you want them to fall off?”
Something pierced her skin. She wanted her mom.
Chapter Eighty-Five
The Preston Clinic
Wednesday, September 26
9:48 p.m.
Edward Sloan gave a nod to the two men talking in the hallway at the clinic. The senior of the two, the administrator with the clipboard, had just told him they were moments away from life-saving surgery for Diana. Or “the patient” as he continued to refer to his wife.
The ecstasy he’d expected had fallen short. There was an unanticipated heaviness he’d realized with the news. What had he done?
Still, it meant he’d have his Diana with him longer. They could take that vacation to some place warm. Some place with white sand and waves that would wrap around their bodies infusing warmth and affirming life. They would make love under the stars and believe in tomorrow.
The tears that welled in his eyes were not from gratitude toward a power higher than himself. They weren’t as much tears of relief as they were of cost—what he had paid to make this event a reality. Not in terms of his fortune but his soul.
He gathered himself outside the closed door of his wife’s room. He told himself that if not for his efforts she would have died. Edward focused his mind on the shine her eyes held and the sureness her presence gave his heart. He couldn’t afford to think of anything else.
He pushed open the door.
Filtered moonlight sifted like diamond dust—or maybe a sword—through the windows. His love lay motionless, dwarfed in her illness even by the small bed. Machines pumped and pulsed and pinged around her. She should have been surrounded by the songs of angels—she was that precious. Instead of an angelic choir she had the plunks and planks, beeps and gasps of mechanical equipment.
Edward pulled a visitor’s chair close to her bed and reached for her hand. His life connected here. With her. She both anchored him and set him free.
What he had done was right. What he had done had saved two lives, not just one. Saving Diana meant saving himself. That’s what he had to remember. That’s what he had to focus on.
A tear slipped down his face and dangled on his chin before it fell to the blanket that provided warmth for his Diana. For the woman who made everything possible.
Because of the steps he’d taken, everything would be as it should. His children would have a reason to come home for the holidays. He would have a reason to go home every night. He closeted any feelings of remorse. The single most important part of the universe lay in front of him now. Ready and open to the health and added years he’d been able to provide.
Edward rose to kiss her on her forehead and leave the room to wait. Wait for the miracle that would restore his wife to him. As his lips touched the smooth skin, it felt cool and a little other-worldly. He pushed the discomfort the contact created aside and started for the door.
“Edward.” Her whisper pierced him.
He turned in his tracks and felt himself pulled back to his connection. His name, uttered in more breath than voice by her lips, was a glorious command for his presence. He found the chair again, pressed her hand into his and leaned close.
“Diana, I’m here.”
The barest suggestion of a squeeze scored his heart.
“Edward, I know you love me.”
“With all my being.”
“You have given me everything I ever wanted.”
“There’s more to come.”
He couldn’t be sure but he thought he heard her breath catch in between the rhythmic pumping sounds.
“Please, I—”
“What do you need, darling? Whatever it is I’ll make it happen. Eddie’s on his way home.”
“I want to go.”
“We will, sweetheart. Just as soon as you’re better, we’ll go wherever you want.”
“Let me go, Edward.”
“But—”
“I know what you’ve done. You need to stop it. Now.”
The air exploded from his lungs. How could she possibly know the arrangements he’d made?
Each word took concentration and tremendous effort. “I know you too well, Edward. I saw it in your face.”
He pulled her hand to his lips. “We’ll be happy, Diana. Together.”
“Neither of us could ever be happy at the expense of someone else. You know that as well as I do. You’ve just gotten lost in all the fear.”
He wiped a tear from her cheek. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted. You’re all I’ve ever needed. I don’t think I could go on if you weren’t in my life.”
She closed her eyes and lay still. His skin sunk into his bones and his world froze. No!
Her eyes opened. Lids hung heavy, shuttering the light Edward desperately wanted to see. “Please… trust me. Trust God. Let me go.” She squeezed his hand. Hard. Surprise at her sudden strength engulfed him.
She let go, fingers slack, and looked into his eyes. “I’m so tired. Do you love me more than life itself?”
“Darling, you know I do.”
“Then trust me. More than life itself. Trust me, Edward. Love me. I’m ready.”
“Oh, God. I can’t—”
“Promise me. Stop this. Stop what you’ve put in place.” Her hand loosed its grip. Her head sunk deeper into the pillow. She pushed the last words out. “Promise me.”
“I promise.”
A smile creased her face. Not a big one. But Edward saw it. He would see her smile—this smile—forever when he closed his eyes and thought of his Diana.
He sat and waited, his love pushing out volumes of tears through his eyes. He barely took breaths. His heart barely beat. He waited.
Until her heart no longer beat. Until the end.
Edward Sloan fell into an abyss he thought would never end.
When Diana’s heart stopped, Edward pushed to his feet and moved to the door. He would find the administrator and tell him the patient had died. He would keep his promise.
Chapter Eighty-Six
Wednesday, September 26
10:17 p.m.
The Carlisle brothers weren’t home when
Daniel arrived at their apartment building, so he was forced to troll for the Mustang.
He’d been driving for about twenty-five minutes looking for the black car when he got the request to follow up on a missing girl. Every other available officer had been sent to respond to a call because a kegger had gotten out of control at Rocky Point. Daniel would look for the Carlisle brothers some more after he took the initial report. He sure hoped it was just some teenager ticked off at her parents, and not a repeat of Rachelle Benavides.
Daniel turned off the ignition in front of the house where the call had originated. Loud party music punctuated by shrieks of laughter filled the air. A girl missing from here? How could anyone tell? A noise ordinance would go into effect at eleven o’clock so even the most easy-going neighbors were likely to take action and call the police by eleven-fifteen. Daniel didn’t plan on being here that long.
A small group of about seven kids stood on the front lawn. He looked at them carefully. Young. He’d be willing to bet there wasn’t a legitimate driver’s license among them.
A young girl took a step toward him. As she did, a figure who had been in shadows a little farther down the street straightened up to look in their direction, stuffing an object into his shirt pocket.
There was something familiar about him, his body shape, the way he moved. The bookstore! Samuel Carlisle!
The older brother took off running. Carlisle had a head start on Daniel but the big man was pretty much a lumbering giant and Daniel closed the gap quickly.
One well-timed lunge and Daniel tackled Samuel Carlisle to the ground. He put a knee in the man’s back and cuffed him. “Well, Sammy. I’ve been looking for you. We need to talk.”
He hauled the heavy man up to his knees and then to his feet. Samuel Carlisle remained quiet but compliant as Daniel directed him to his car.
The young girl stepped into their path. “Wait! You can’t leave without getting the information about my friend.”