by Harry Kraus
“Bad timing,” Nancy whispered. “Now you know too much.” She jammed the syringe into John’s arm right above his elbow and emptied it into a vein. “Don’t worry. This time it’s four times lethal dose.”
His head began to swim. The last thing he saw before he stopped breathing was Nancy slipping out the back kitchen door.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Joel Stevens pushed open the unlatched door and nodded at Randy Jensen. He put his head in the door. “Miss Grandle?”
He looked into the front room. He saw a woman in a recliner wearing a wedding dress. “Randy!”
Randy ran by him into the kitchen. “There’s another body here! It’s John Cerelli.”
“This woman’s cold dead,” Joel said.
“He’s got a pulse!” Randy extended John’s neck to open his airway. “He’s not breathing.”
Joel radioed for a paramedic unit while Randy started artificial respirations using a pocket mask.
Joel looked at the syringe sticking out of the woman’s arm. “Looks like an overdose here.” He joined Randy in the kitchen and monitored John’s pulse while Randy kept up the ventilations.
Four minutes later, a paramedic crew arrived. Sarah Heatwole, Michael Chin, and Tim Snyder were well known to Joel from their work together with people in crisis. Tim led the trio and set down a large resuscitation bag on the floor. “What have you got?”
“Two down. She’s long dead. This one still had a pulse, but no respirations. I think it’s a narcotics OD.”
Tim looked at John’s pupils. “Pinpoint. Probably narcotics.” He looked at Sarah. “Start an IV. I’ll bag him. Mike, draw up an ampule of Narcan.” He pinched a mask over John’s face and began to force oxygen into his lungs with an AMBU bag.
Sarah slid a sixteen-gauge intravenous cannula into John’s arm. “I’m in. Hand me the Narcan.” She injected the narcotic antagonist.
Within a minute of injection, John opened his eyes and took a breath. Tim lifted the mask from John’s face. “He’s coming around.”
Joel looked up as the front door opened again. A slender woman with gray-streaked black hair stood silhouetted in the doorway. She held her hand to her mouth. “What’s going on? I saw the ambulance. This is my daughter’s house.” She looked over and saw the woman in the wedding dress. Immediately, she fell to her knees beside the recliner and screamed. “Ami!”
Randy walked toward her.
“Somebody help her! She’s not breathing!” She yelled at the paramedics. “What’s wrong with you? Help my daughter!”
Randy put his arm around the sobbing woman. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry. Why don’t you come with me?” He tried to guide her gently toward the front porch.
“No!” she screamed. “Help Ami!” She looked down at her daughter and cried, “Oh, Ami, what have you done? Ami, Ami, Ami.” She sobbed and lowered her head onto her daughter’s chest. She looked up at Randy and pleaded, “Help her!”
Michael Chin knelt beside the woman. “She’s too far gone, ma’am. There’s nothing we can do.”
“No,” she wept.
“Come on, ma’am. Let’s go outside where we can have a little privacy. I need to ask you a few questions.”
The woman stood and wiped her eyes before looking back at Joel where he stood in the kitchen. Then she leaned on Randy and limped through the front door.
John Cerelli lifted his hand toward Joel. “Come here,” he said, his voice just above a whisper.
Joel knelt by the man. “John?”
John nodded. “That woman with Randy. She’s the one who did this. She killed Wally McCall. Then she killed her daughter. And she tried to kill me.”
“Wait a minute. You called me today and said that Ami killed Wally McCall. Now you say it’s her mother?”
“I was wrong about Ami.”
“Well, she’s dead, so she can’t verify your story.”
John’s speech was thick and slow. “It’s no story. Ami’s mother framed Claire for murdering her father.”
Joel shook his head, trying to process yet another curve. “Why? Why would she do this?”
“She hated Claire for refusing to give her large amounts of morphine for her husband. I think she wanted it for her own drug addiction. She thought Claire suspected her.” He halted. “And she thought Claire stole me away from Ami.”
Joel paused and studied John for a moment. “You seem to be trying to find any explanation that will get Claire off the hook and out of jail.”
“I’m telling the truth.”
“What evidence do you have? Your word against hers?”
Tim Snyder put his hand on Joel’s shoulder. “We’ve got to take this guy in. The Narcan is shorter-acting than the narcotic it is countering. He could stop breathing anytime. We need to get him in a monitored situation.”
“Sure.” He looked at John. “We’ll talk later.”
“No!” John tugged on Joel’s pants leg. “I can prove it.” He motioned for Joel to come closer. He spoke at a whisper. “Leave me alone for a minute and step outside. If Ami’s mom thinks I am still alive, she will return to silence me.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“Let me give you the proof you need.”
Tim knelt beside him. “Waiting could be dangerous. We need to take you to the hospital.”
“I can refuse?”
“Mr. Cerelli, this could risk your life.”
John struggled up so that he was leaning on both elbows. “Just do this! I’m not going anywhere until you listen to me.” He put his hand up. “Here,” he said, lifting the IV line. “Disconnect this and put the tip under a bandage on my arm.”
The detective and paramedic exchanged glances. Joel shook his head. “This is insane.”
“I’m not comfortable with this. He could die.”
The detective leaned over John. “I can’t put your life at risk.”
John coughed. “You’ll be right outside.”
“And my career is over if you die.”
“I’m not going to die. Fix the IV so the drug won’t be going in my arm.”
Joel stood up. “You want to risk your life?”
“I want you to know the truth.” John coughed. “I’m refusing transport. I’ll sign a release form. I’m going with you only if you work with me.”
The detective frowned. “I’ll give you two minutes by the clock.” He walked to a small window by the back door and pulled back the curtain to create a small slit for a view from the outside. “I’ll be right outside this window watching everything.” He took the paramedic by the arm. “Fix his IV like he suggested.”
Tim protested. “I don’t like this.”
“I don’t like it either. But if he refuses transport, and he doesn’t get more Narcan, he could die anyway.” The detective watched as Tim unhooked and capped the IV and placed the end of the tubing under a large dressing on his arm. He slowed down the drip. “This won’t fool anyone for very long.” He stood up. “This is a bad idea.”
Joel tilted his head toward the front door. “Your opinion is noted.” He looked down at John. “One last chance, Cerelli. My advice is to let us take you in. Now.”
John shook his head. “Leave me,” he gasped. “This is my call.”
Joel ushered the paramedic crew out onto the porch. The other paramedics retreated to their van while Tim lingered behind. Detective Stevens put his hand on the shoulder of Ami’s mom, who sat on the porch steps talking to Randy Jensen. “Ma’am,” he began, “would you like to spend a moment with your daughter? I asked the paramedics to step out for a few minutes so you could be alone with her.” He spoke softly and gave her a gentle pat on the back. “Say good-bye.”
Randy wrinkled his forehead but Joel gave him a subtle shake of the head to say, “Don’t interfere.”
Ami’s mom sniffed. “I’d like that.” Joel helped her to her feet. She slipped in and shut the front door.
Joel kept his voice just above a whisper and looked a
t his watch. “Randy, here’s what’s going down.”
John looked through his eyelashes with slitlike eyes, feigning sleep. Nancy Childress loudly moaned and cried her daughter’s name.
He felt the pull of sleep. The narcotic is still affecting me. The antidote is wearing off. I have to fight to stay awake and keep breathing.
Predictably, Nancy kept crying and calling Ami’s name. Then she hurried to John while keeping up her charade of tears. She pulled a syringe from a small black pocketbook.
John forced his eyes to stay open. “No,” he whispered.
Just as he’d anticipated, she injected the contents of the syringe into the IV line.
John held his breath and allowed his eyes to close. When his lungs were bursting and only after he’d heard Nancy walk into the front room did he dare to inhale again.
Where are they? Why aren’t they coming to my rescue?
He felt the euphoric state rising. Soon he would sleep and would not remember to breathe.
Outside, Joel crouched down and peered through the kitchen window. When he saw Nancy inject the medicine, he tried the back door. It was locked. Why isn’t Randy coming in the front?
He sprinted around the house. Randy looked up from his position outside the door. “She’s locked us out!” He pounded the door. “Mrs. Childress, open the door.”
“We’ve got to get in there!”
“Open the door!”
Inside they heard her raising her voice to a hysterical lilt.
Randy kicked in the door, splintering the wood along the deadbolt. Tim rushed in behind Randy and Joel and headed straight to John.
“He’s not breathing!” Tim shouted. “Get my crew back in here.” He looked up at the detective. “If he doesn’t make it, I’m holding you responsible!”
Randy shouted for the other paramedics.
Tim laid his hand on John’s neck. “How long was he down? He’s got no pulse!”
Joel nodded and looked at Nancy Childress, who was weeping over her daughter’s still form. He grabbed her by the elbow. “You’re coming with me!”
Chapter Forty
John Cerelli blinked and opened his eyes. The room was bright, too bright. He waited for his eyes to adjust and decided to take inventory. He was on his back. The surface was soft. A bed? Where am I? He tried to close his mouth, but a tube coming through his teeth stopped him. He swallowed against the tube, which ran along his tongue into the back of his throat, and began to gag, his cough muffled into the tube. As he coughed, a shrill electronic alarm sounded, coming from somewhere close to his right ear. He looked up. An IV bag dangled above him, and a snarl of wires connected his chest to a TV screen.
“Why, hello there. Look who’s waking up.” The voice was feminine and belonged to a head which appeared to float just above his.
He tried to speak, but the tube seemed to have stolen his voice.
He lifted his right hand, but met resistance after moving only a few inches. They’ve got me tied down! Where am I?
“John, you’re in the hospital. Brighton University Intensive Care Unit. You came in with an overdose.”
A memory bubbled to the surface and drifted away. I went to see Ami.
Ami is dead. Her mother did it.
Her mother tried to kill me.
“John, take a deep breath.”
He obeyed.
“Let’s get this tube out of your throat.” The floating head above him became a nurse. She pulled tape from his cheeks and asked him to cough, pulling the tube when he responded. She covered his mouth with an oxygen mask. “That should feel better.”
John found his voice. “What time is it?”
“Four o’clock.”
He’d lost three hours. “What happened?”
“You overdosed, John. The police found you in time.”
The memory returned fresh and strong. The police had evidence that could free Claire.
The nurse touched his shoulder. “The police were here earlier. I’m supposed to call them since you’re awake.” She paused. “Are you in some trouble? Did you want to die?”
“No!” He tried to sit up, but the wrist restraints made it difficult. He studied her face. “You think I tried to do this? Someone did this to me!”
Her face registered disbelief. “Sure.”
He shrugged. “Call the police. I want to talk to them.”
The nurse undid his restraints. “I’ll call Detective Stevens.”
A few minutes later, Joel Stevens showed up.
“That was quick.”
“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up for an hour.”
“That long?”
“Enough time for three cups of vending-machine coffee.” He held up a cup and smiled. “I don’t recommend it.”
“You didn’t wait for me to talk about the coffee.”
He nodded. “You were right. We have Nancy Childress in custody.”
“She confessed?”
“Only after we presented her with the eyewitness evidence of her injecting you with morphine.”
John took a deep breath. “So Claire is going to get out?”
“As soon as we show the evidence to Garland Strickler. I’m sure the charges will be dropped.”
John pumped his fist. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
“Not so fast, cowboy. You’re still on a Narcan drip to counter the narcotic in your system.”
He looked over to see his nurse. “When can I get out?”
“Probably tomorrow morning.”
John took a deep breath and reached for the detective’s hand. “Thanks.”
That evening, Claire was brought back into a holding room where she could talk to her attorney across the glass window.
Bill Fauls was waiting. For the first time, a broad grin replaced his serious expression. He didn’t wait for Claire to sit before he began. “I owe you an apology, Claire. When all the evidence was stacking up against you, I lost faith in you.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I let you down. I’m sorry.”
Claire leaned forward. “You didn’t just come here to apologize.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s late. You have to have news.”
“I do. Great news, actually.” He took a deep breath. “John helped us crack this case wide open.”
“It was Ami, wasn’t it? She killed my father to get me out of the picture. John and I figured it out once I knew about the 911 tape she used.”
“Slow down,” he said. “I’m going to tell you everything. It was Nancy Childress, Ami’s mother.”
“Nancy? She killed Wally?”
“She’s made a confession.” He paused. “It looks like a pretty complicated dysfunctional little family. When Ami was a young woman, she was raped by her father. Nancy confessed to John that she killed her husband in defense of her daughter. Ami then burned their house down to destroy the evidence of her father’s body.”
Claire lifted her shackled hands to her mouth. “That’s horrible.”
Bill nodded. “I’m not sure how much her childhood abuse played into her later problems, but — ”
“She was diagnosed with schizophrenia as a teenager.”
“And later became obsessed with your husband. Her mother, it seems, believed Ami’s version of her delusional romance with John. She believed John was two-timing Ami and that you stole John away from her daughter.”
Claire huffed. “I stole John away? She was trying to steal John away from me!”
“Exactly. Anyway, Nancy had problems of her own. She was trying to cope with a dying husband and became addicted to the painkillers she was giving him.”
“That explains why she was always so upset with the amount of morphine I offered to Richard.”
“She was afraid you were catching on to her. In addition, she wanted you to be framed for your father’s death, to get you out of the way of her daughter’s romance with John. So when she found out that Ami was masquerading as your counselor
and had made a tape of your confrontation, she hatched a plan to use that tape to get you out of the picture.
“By the way, I spoke to Joanne Phillips. She treated Ami with some of the exact techniques that Ami used with you. She asked Ami to have a mock confrontation with her father to tell him how she felt about the abuse.”
Claire nodded thoughtfully. “So that’s how Ami learned all the psychological lingo. She’d been in therapy herself.”
“Now this part is weird,” Bill said. “In her obsession with John, Ami had bought the exact same wedding gown and veil that you had. Nancy found out about the gown, and she dressed in it the morning of your wedding and slipped into the nursing home to kill your father.”
Claire shook her head. “How does Tyler fit into all of this? John thought that Tyler may have sexually assaulted Ami.”
“He was right. It appears that Tyler assaulted Ami on the night of your wedding. It was yet another rape by a convicted rapist.”
Claire nodded and stayed quiet.
“Claire, Ami killed Tyler.”
“Ami? So she hid his body in my car?”
“We don’t think so. Nancy confessed to placing the body in your car, again in an attempt to cover for her daughter and frame you in the process. She even took hair from a brush in the glove box of the car to plant on Tyler’s body to make it look like you were the victim of a sexual assault.”
“She was shrewd.”
Bill nodded. “I haven’t told you everything yet. John went to confront Ami after talking with you.”
“John? Is he okay?”
“Relax. John’s fine. Now,” he added. “But when he went to Ami’s house, he found her body.”
“Dead?”
“Yes. She’d been overdosed. From what we understand from the preliminary police investigation, it looks like Nancy killed her own daughter.”
“What?”
“Evidently, Nancy felt like Ami couldn’t be trusted to stay quiet any longer. Ami was confiding in John, and Nancy sensed things were spinning out of her control.” He shrugged. “We may never understand the full extent that Nancy’s own psychological problems and drug addiction played into this.”