by Judith Lucci
A blush crept up Brittany’s neck. “No sir, not really. Mrs. A. just told me to come in today, just to be sure you were OK and to get you anything you needed,” Brittany admitted honestly. “I hope that’s OK with you,” she added weakly. “If there’s nothing, I can go back to the dorm,” she offered.
“No, of course not, stay here. I can’t think of a thing I need now, but that could change. Please stay. I may need something later.”
Brittany smiled at him. “Thank you, Mr. D. I’ll be outside if you need me.”
“How are the nursing studies going, my dear? How much longer do you have in school,” Louis asked the pretty petite young woman who was perhaps a size 3 soaking wet.
“Great sir, just great.” Brittany’s enthusiasm shone on her face. She was positively ecstatic. “I am starting my final semester and I will start in the intensive care unit next week. I’m so excited!”
It was hard to imagine anyone being excited about the intensive care unit, but Louis didn’t comment. “The intensive care unit? That sounds pretty complex. Will you be at NYU?”
Brittany nodded eagerly, “Yes, sir. On the cardiac side. I am starting in cardiac intensive care first. Then I’ll go to the neuro intensive care unit. I like that because I know what to expect. The cardiac intensive care unit scares me because people with heart conditions change so often.”
Louis thought for a moment. “That’s good, Brittany. Let me just say that I hope I don’t see you there,” he ended with a smile.
Brittany’s pupils widened. “Oh no, Mr. Destephano. I promise, you won’t. You look great, and aren’t you still going to the gym every day?”
Louis smiled broadly, “Yes, I am, well, almost every day. I can’t run anymore though because they say I need to have my knee replaced.” He paused for moment and continued, not wanting to be alone. “Did I ever tell you my daughter was a nurse?”
Surprise registered on Brittany’s face. “Well, no sir, to tell the truth, I didn’t know you had a daughter.” Her enthusiasm returned and she added, “Where does she work?”
Louis was silent for a moment and replied, “Well, she works in New Orleans, but not as a nurse. In the beginning, she worked in intensive care, just like you want to do. She was at the University of Virginia in the surgical trauma intensive care unit for a long time.”
“Wow, that’s impressive! But what is she doing now? Did she leave nursing?” Brittany hoped not. She hated stories about nurses who had left the profession to sell real estate because the work was so hard.
Louis shook his head, “Oh no, not at all. Alex went to law school after nursing school. She graduated with a law degree from Virginia. Now she’s a hospital lawyer, but she uses her nursing background all of the time.”
Brittany digested this information for a minute or two and said, “That is amazing. You must be very proud, Mr. Destephano. Do you have a picture of Alex?”
Louise shook his head, and Brittany saw sadness flicker across his face. “No dear, not a recent one here, but I have some at home.” His voice sounded sad and he looked despondent.
Brittany remained quiet, waiting for more, but it didn’t come. She examined her boss critically, as a nurse would, and noted his tired brown eyes, sallow skin, and receding hair line. Finally, she said, “Well, I’d like to see her picture and meet her sometime. But in the meantime, would you like some coffee?”
Louis lifted his mug and said, “No, thanks. I visited the Keurig just before you came in. Thanks, though.”
Brittany nodded, “I’m going to be outside studying. Just call if you need me, OK?”
Louis nodded and smiled as she quietly closed the door. She’s like a breath of fresh air. So much better than most of the people who cross my threshold and want money, or a pound of flesh from me.
He rose from his leather chair, walked over to the beautiful bookcases that lined the side walls of his office, and reached for a leather-bound book. He carried the book back to his desk and opened it. He picked up his coffee, sipped it, and opened the bound volume as he had done many, many times in the past 30 years. It was a scrapbook of Alex.
For years his trusted associate, Mrs. A., had kept the volume current on Alex, the beautiful daughter he hadn’t seen since she was three years old. Mrs. A. spent considerable time reviewing the newspapers and collecting news reports and pictures of Alex. There was a story about her visiting the Oval Office and having tea and Girl Scout cookies with the President, dozens of pictures of her with her beloved horse, Dundee, at Wyndley Farm, pictures of her in dancing competitions and music recitals, and articles written about her in the local papers, as well as school pictures and snap shots of Alex that Kathryn Rosseau Lee had graciously provided for him over the years. There were wedding pictures of Alex and Robert Bonnet, of New Orleans, the son of a former Louisiana governor and current Senator from Louisiana. The last picture he had received was of Alex when she received her law degree from UVA. He held the color picture and examined his daughter carefully. She was stunning and presented the best the he and her mother had to offer.
He closed the album and thought about Kathryn Lee. She was a good woman. She knew he’d loved Alex and Alex’s mother … and he had. He had loved Alex’s mother so much, but had no idea how mentally fragile she was until after they were married and Alex was born. The depression she’s been in was awful but I was so young, I didn’t understand. I was such a fool, Louis lamented to himself, as he continued to think back on the past 30 years.
Kathryn had objected when Adam had banished Louis from the farm all those years ago, threatening him with death if he ever returned or tried to see his daughter or Alex. Louis shook his head as he remembered. I really can’t blame Adam. After all the years, I can see and understand what he thought. I was a two-bit crook from New Orleans, a thug with ties to the old Carlos Marcello family. I had lured, knocked up, and married his only daughter without permission. I’d be furious if someone had done that to Alex. Anyway, Kathryn braved the wrath of Adam Lee and continued to send him photos and keep him up on Alex’s life and activities, and for that he was forever grateful.
Louis closed his eyes and sat back in his recliner, reliving the early years of his life, outlining his slipups, and wondering where he could have done better. When he opened his eyes, they were automatically drawn to a massive silk painting that he had purchased from a gallery in Charlottesville while Alex was in law school.
He had spent several days at UVA and had seen Alex on campus. It had been after his last divorce and he’d never felt more lonely in his entire life. The painting was a beautiful abstract and was 3 feet by 4 feet. His heart warmed as he studied it. The colors were vivid and enchanting, and everyone remarked on it when they visited his office. A child of the ‘60s, the painting was perfect for Louis. In many ways the painting symbolized his youth, with its abstract design and the genius of Jackson Pollack. He absolutely loved it.
He sat up suddenly and made a decision. That was it. He had to see his daughter. He was getting old and he wasn’t well. Now, how do I arrange to see her?
Chapter 25
Jacob Stark finally slid his F250 truck into the parking lot of the old Moore’s Market in Chilesburg. The normally 35 minute drive had taken him over an hour. He heaved a sigh of relief. The old blue pickup was just like he had left it, parked behind the tree line of the snow covered lot. He jumped from his vehicle into the deep snow, sprinted toward the old truck, and grabbed the handle.
Yassar’s body was untouched and still covered in the bed of the truck. Jake stared at the body as hatred filled his heart. I’m not sorry that jihad bastard is dead. He had it coming. Once again nausea washed over him as he relived the scene of Seth's murder. He shook his head trying to shake the memory. The bastard had shot Seth in the back. For no good reason, Yassar had shot Seth in the back. What a ruthless chicken shit bastard. Stark blinked back the tears and swallowed the nausea that bubbled into his mouth. Stark reviewed the day in his mind and a dose of reality set i
n. I’ve got to get the hell out of here. I’m the next target. I've got to go dark.
He pushed the button to release the door lock, but nothing happened. He tried again, and then pulled on the handle as hard as he could. He winced in pain and grabbed his shoulder. Damn, the door is frozen. How in the hell am I gonna fix this? His anxiety was palpable as he stood silent for a moment and thought. Is the truck locked? No, it had to be frozen? He checked his wrist watch. He had 9 minutes left -- only 9 minutes to prevent a catastrophe. The futility of the situation overwhelmed him.
I don’t remember locking the door. He searched his pocket for the keys, but couldn’t find them. I should have them. I’m the one that drove it here from Wyndley Farm. He inspected the area around the old truck carefully for any sign of the missing keys. The place where he and Yassar had scuffled earlier was now totally covered with snow. At least 4 or more inches had fallen in the last three hours. He dropped to his knees and began frantically pushing the snow aside, sifting through it looking for the keys.
He checked his watch again. Only four more minutes remaining. He was overcome with panic and frustration. A part of him just wanted to lay down in the snow and cry, or die, he wasn’t sure which, but he persevered. Finally, he snatched up the metal key ring from the snow and quickly inserted the key into the lock, but it wouldn’t turn. He tried several times and realizing it was frozen, he took three quick strides to the back of the truck and jumped into the bed.
He kicked Yassar’s body out of the way, ignoring the corpse as he searched the tool box with one hand for de-icer or WD40 … or something, anything. With his other hand, Stark held the key close to his lips and exhaled on it with his warm breath as he tried to warm it up from its cold, snowy grave. When he wasn’t breathing on it, he was frantically rubbing the key against his jeans, trying to heat it using friction. Anything. Lord, I know I don’t deserve it, but please cut me some slack. I’ve done wrong, but now I am trying to do right. Please help me find some de-icer. Nothing.
Finally, as he was losing all hope, he found a small can of WD-40 and a light green Bic lighter at the very bottom of the tool box. The blue and yellow can was rusted almost beyond recognition, but Stark recognized the shape. He jumped off the pickup bed, shaking the can of WD-40 as he went around to the driver’s side of the car. He squirted the lock with the WD-40 and then lit the lighter, placing it squarely in front of the lock to warm it. He checked his watch -- 2 minutes remaining.
Sweat poured off his brow and his heart thundered out of his body. Stark inserted the key and prayed once again the key would turn. It didn’t. He applied the heat source again, letting it heat the lock for about 45 seconds before reinserting the key again. This time the key turned and the lock sprang open. Stark dove into the truck, opened the console, grabbed the iPad Mini, and pressed the button. Just to be safe, he pressed it again, and again.
The green light stopped ticking. Stark checked his watch – 30 seconds to spare. He hoped he was in time. He lay his head on the cold, rough and torn leather seat and stayed there several minutes, willing his heart to calm down and his blood pressure to decrease. As he slowed his breathing, his head stopped pounding and he gradually sat up in the driver’s seat of the truck.
He stayed in the truck for about 15 minutes. He heard nothing and saw nothing, except the pounding snow and ice. Finally, he returned to his own truck and headed west toward home, praying he’d been successful and asking God for forgiveness. This is the day from hell. He sighed to himself and pressed the buttons of his stereo system, searching for some music to ease the trip as he sought some relief from the long day.
Chapter 26
Kathryn Rosseau Lee stood alone by the fireplace in her large, beautifully appointed bedroom at Wyndley Farm. With a cup of tea in hand she walked a few short steps and looked out of the window at her smoldering horse barn and the covered bodies of two of her favorite mares in the snow covered pasture. Hot tears squeezed through her tightly shut eyes and for a few moments, she felt dizzy ... and alone. For the first time she could ever remember, there was no one she could talk with.
Alex was missing, having been thrown some distance during the blast. Jack Francoise was seriously injured, with shrapnel lodged in his upper torso, hip, and leg. The Med Star helicopters were grounded due to the blizzard, forcing Jack, Monique, and Robert to travel via ambulance to the Virginia Medical University.
Kathryn had urged Robert to travel in the ambulance with Jack, even though she knew he didn’t want to leave her and was worried about Alex. Robert would be beside himself with worry if he knew Alex still missing. But Robert needed to go. Jack looked pretty bad and had a death pallor about him. Even Mary Stildove bleeding powders hadn’t been able to totally stop the bleeding. There was so much of Jack’s blood in the snow.…
Kathryn shivered and moved closer to the fire as she reviewed the events of the blast. She remembered how Monique had knelt in the show and together with Mary Stildove, pressed white towels over top of Jack’s gaping wounds in a frantic effort to stop the flow of blood. In desperation, Mary had packed Jack’s wounds with the freshly fallen snow, trying to control the flow of blood. And all the while, Kathryn’s beloved horses were crying out in pain. It was like being in hell. I think I was in hell for at least twenty minutes. I am still in hell, even now. I don’t know where anyone is or how they are.
Kathryn sat on the sofa and sipped her tea as she remembered how Mary had checked Robert’s eyes with her flashlights once he had woken up from the blast. Robert had been so still after the bomb had exploded. He’d been blown several hundred feet in the blast and had landed in a flat area of the pasture. He had been unconscious for several minutes, and Mary had tended to him while also caring for Jack. But, Alex, where is my Alex? Kathryn knew that her heart was crying as she felt the pain seeping through her body.
The grandfather clock in the hall chimed five times. Kathryn was frightened. It had been three hours since the explosion and no one had been able to find her granddaughter. John Cole, another Secret Service agent, and one of Jack’s NOPD officers were searching for her. It was freezing cold, and the snow was over a foot. Kathryn had been told the new snow forecast was up to 24 inches. If they don’t find Alex, soon she will freeze to death. Kathryn’s shoulders heaved violently up and down as she sobbed silently into her hands.
After the passage of several minutes, her sobbing was interrupted by the light, soft sound of knocking on the door. As she turned toward the door, she saw Belle, the tragic young ghost who had haunted her home and property for years.
Kathryn was neither frightened nor surprised to see Belle. Instead, she said, “Oh my, Belle, do come in. It is freezing out there!”
As Belle moved closer to the fireplace in Kathryn’s bedroom, she turned to Kathryn and said, “I know where Alex is. We must get there quickly or she will freeze to death. Is there someone who can go with me? “
“I will go,” Kathryn declared, moving toward her closet. “Let me get some warmer clothes and boots, and I will come right away.”
Belle followed her toward the closet and said, “We must have help. She has fallen down a steep hill into a gully and I cannot move her by myself. I covered her as best I could with an old canvas and some leaves.”
Kathryn felt tears spring into her eyes again. “Thank you so much, Belle. I don’t want to lose Alex. She means everything to me.” Kathryn’s blue eyes shown with gratitude and her silver hair glistened in the light from her closet. “I will get some of the police to help us. We will go quickly.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Lee. Please remember that no one can see me except for you and Alex. It will look as though you are leading the way. Have the rescue people bring a stretcher, blankets and a hot beverage. I will meet you at the back door.” Belle stayed near the closet as she watched Kathryn pull on long johns, jeans, boots, and a flannel shirt. “Also, don’t talk to me as they will consider you old and crazy if you do,” Belle instructed Kathryn with a smile.
Kathryn smiled weakly. “Oh, Belle. How can I thank you? You have always watched out for us,” Kathryn added as she reached for the thin woman and embraced her, feeling nothing but the empty air in her arms.
“You have thanked me, Mrs. Lee. You let me stay on your land and live in your horse barn. I am very thankful for that. And, I know who did this,” she added, giving Kathryn a doleful look as she moved to the window and looked at the smoldering horse barn. “And, one of them has already paid.”
“Please, Belle. Anything. Just help me find my Alex,” Kathryn pleaded, her eyes dark with grief.
Belle nodded, “The back door. Hurry.”
Chapter 27
“Oh my God, Robert! How is he? He’s so pale, is he even alive,” Monique asked, her dark eyes wide with fear and unshed tears as she surveyed the darkening blood on her husband’s thigh. Even though Monique was frightened out of her mind, she was doing a great job at keeping it together in the back of the ambulance. Her beautiful New Year's Day outfit was splattered with Jack’s blood, but she hadn’t even noticed. Her long white fingers held Jack’s thick wrist as they constantly monitored his heart rate.
Robert glanced up at Monique as he changed the blood soaked dressings from Jack’s hip and leg. His torso wasn’t bleeding as badly. Even though Monique Desmonde was chief of psychiatry at Crescent City Medical Center and was generally as cool as a cucumber, Robert could see a crack in her well-honed veneer. I am gonna have to hold this together for her. My God, they've only been married 24 hours. Robert's heart was thudding with anxiety. I wish I had about five units of blood. I either have to get his blood pressure back up or I’m going to have to remove the shrapnel right here in the ambulance, which I don’t want to do.
“He’s okay for now,” Robert answered, “but I’m afraid we’ll have to speed up a little because he needs blood.” He turned to the paramedic at Jack’s feet and asked, “How much time out?”