Blind Retribution

by K. T. Roberts

  “You had enough on your plate taking care of your parents and your niece. I couldn’t tell you.”

  “I still wish you had,” Cory said. “This whole thing is becoming one major mess after another. I know you’re no killer, and when I find enough evidence to prove it, you’ll be free, but I need your help here. Having you fall apart at the seams does us no good, and lying makes it even worse.” Cory’s lips tightened. He needed to get out of there before he blew a gasket. He loathed liars, and just because they were like brothers didn’t give Jack a free pass. “Look, I have a lot to do today, so I’m going to head out, and I’ll be back again soon. No more lies, Jack. You got that?”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Valerie Morrison encouraged the cab driver to hurry to New York Presbyterian Hospital after receiving a frantic call from her sister-in-law, Molly, that her sixteen-year-old niece had died. Valerie rushed inside the elevator and took the ride up to the floor where her brother and Molly were waiting. She exited as soon as the door opened, stopping at the nurses’ station for information.

  “My niece, Candace Morrison—” She didn’t have to finish her sentence. The nurse pointed to the family waiting room, and Valerie briskly walked inside. Molly was leaning against Valerie’s brother, Dean, sobbing hysterically.

  “I’m here, Moll.” The woman turned and sobbed on Valerie’s shoulder, giving Dean an opportunity to express his grief to the police, who were firing questions at the surgical team.

  “She’s g-gone,” Molly screeched out in a stuttered sentence. “I never should have agreed to this.” Molly blew her nose. “She just wanted to look pretty.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “No one knows what happened to her except she’s dead.” Molly lowered her head into her hands. “I never should have agreed. This is all my fault.”

  “Moll, what was she having done?”

  “A nose job. The kids at school were making fun of her and calling her names, so I agreed.”

  “This is the first I’m hearing about this. At sixteen?” Valerie shrieked, quickly wishing she hadn’t said those words because Molly was already blaming herself. “I’m sorry, Moll, I didn’t mean to question your parenting.”

  “I told you this was my fault.”

  “Stop. You were just trying to keep your daughter happy, so don’t do that to yourself.” She pulled the woman into a tight hug. “Tell me what happened.”

  “She came out of surgery and went into the recovery room for about an hour. They brought her to the room as soon as the meds wore off. She was fading in and out of sleep, so I left the room to go down to the cafeteria to get coffee, when I received a call. It was the head nurse telling me there was an emergency and to get back upstairs. When I entered the room, a team was gathered around her bed trying to resuscitate her. She had flatlined, and no one seems to know what happened.”

  “You’ll request an autopsy, won’t you?” Valerie asked.

  “Yes. I’m told it’s mandatory in cases like this.” Molly wiped her tears on a tissue, looked at her husband, and released a painful regret: “My sweet Candy is gone.” She elongated the end of the word as her knees buckled out from under her and she fell to the floor. The staff’s fast response time had Molly awake in seconds with the aid of smelling salts. Molly pushed the nurse’s hand away. “Let me up. I’m fine.”

  Valerie heaved a nervous breath, her hands shaking from the shock. “Thank God you’re all right.”

  “I’d like to keep you for observation, Mrs. Morrison,” the doctor said. His name card read Dr. Disconti.

  “Why? So you can kill me too?”

  “Molly,” Dean, said taking her hand in his, “please let’s not jump to conclusions. We don’t know what happened. Let these guys do what they do best. Please?” He wrapped his arms around her and walked her to the gurney being wheeled into the room. “Let them do their jobs.” Molly protested. His hand flew in the air. “Please, we don’t know what happened to Candy. I’d like to think the coroner is impartial and he knows what he’s doing, so let’s trust him. And if he finds negligence, we’ll sue their asses off. Now, please, let them check you out. I can’t lose you too.” A tear slid down his cheek. She nodded and wiped it with her fingers.

  “Will you stay close by?” Molly asked him.

  “Of course. When was the last time you ate anything?” he asked.

  “I haven’t eaten all day. I don’t think I could eat anything.”

  He watched as family members rallied around Molly Morrison. He moved closer to get a better view, pretending to be reading a notice on the wall when he heard the woman sobbing hysterically. She was being wheeled out of the family waiting room on a gurney.

  “It’ll be okay, Molly,” he heard her husband say.

  He smiled to himself and followed the gurney down the hall until he saw the elevator doors open. He rushed inside and pushed the Down arrow, congratulating himself on a job well done, anxious to continue his quest.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The frigid cold surprised Cory when he exited his home, his cheeks stinging from the wind whipping around his body. He picked up his pace and rushed into the garage for his car, surprised the temperatures had dropped so drastically. Unlocking the doors, he slid behind the steering wheel as quickly as he could and turned the engine over, moving the lever for the fan to high, hoping the car would warm up quickly. He backed out of the garage and headed for the senator’s mid-town office, surprised she was working on a Saturday and thankful he didn’t have to drive to Albany. Traffic was always worse on the weekends in New York City, but he managed to make decent time without sitting for hours in the mid-town gridlock. Seeing the building ahead, he eased through the traffic and pulled into the parking lot. Inside he stopped to check the directory for her suite number. Seeing her name, he took the elevator up to her floor and exited, walking down the hall to the sign that read 27th State Senate District Office, Senator Kay Stansbury. Walking up to her secretary. “I’d like a moment with Senator Stansbury,” he said.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but she’s busy at the moment. What can I do for you?”

  “I need to speak to the senator.”

  “Can you tell me what this is in reference to, sir?”

  “Sure. I’m a private investigator,” he said, showing her his identification and slipping his business card over to her, “and I’m investigating her daughter’s transplant.” The secretary’s eyes opened wide.

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “I didn’t say anything was wrong—” He stopped talking when the senator came rushing out of her office with a handful of papers flapping in the breeze. He noted that she was even more beautiful than she appeared on television or in the newspapers. “Senator Stansbury,” he said, catching her off guard.

  She jerked her head toward him. “I’m sorry. Do you have an appointment with me?”

  “No, but my name is Cory Rossini, and I’m a private investigator,” he said, handing her his card.

  “I have an urgent matter to handle here,” she said, waving the papers.

  “That’s fine, I can wait.”

  “And what exactly do you want with me, Mr. Rossini? I’m terribly busy right now,” she said.

  “Too busy to talk about your daughter’s transplant?”

  She took a cursory view of the business card. “Who’s investigating the transplant?” she asked.

  “I am, ma’am.”

  “Who’s paying you, Mr. Rossini?” She made a sudden stop. “Are you working for the newspaper?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Then what firm are you with?”

  “My own firm. I promise, I won’t take up too much of your time.” She sighed. “I’m investigating another case which is going to trial, which may be related to your daughter’s transplant.”

  Cory watched a series of emotions sweep across her face. She released an impatient sigh and pointed toward her office. “Wait in my office while I take care of this.” />
  Making his way inside, he wondered what her urgent business was all about, but even though he strained to listen, all he could hear was mumbling. Looking around the room, he noted the office had an elegant flair. Not that he should have been surprised. The senator was a classy-looking woman, and this décor fit perfectly with her persona. He’d been in many political offices during his time serving as an attorney, but her office was decorated unlike the typical politician’s. He thought it was nice that she’d put her own mark on it. It was a stylish, comfortable room with a plushy gold carpet. Upholstered brown and beige striped straight-back chairs complemented the brown sofa, with a rectangular coffee table centered in the grouping. In the corner of the room was a glass-topped circular desk, with a black wooden base that looked striking against the gold carpeting.

  Of particular interest to him were the framed photographs hanging on the wall. Hearing a noise, he kept a watchful eye on the door. He was hoping to find something that would help the case, when he suddenly noticed she’d left a desk drawer open. Inquisitive, he made his way over and saw some photographs loosely sitting on top of a pile. Afraid she would walk into the office any minute, he took a quick look at the top photo. The senator and Jeffrey Barrett were alone on a boat, standing close and smiling at one another like two lovers. Maybe it was his imagination working overtime, but he felt certain there was something going on between the two, and not just idle chitchat. He scooped up the pile and shoved them inside his jacket pocket. Not long after, he heard the senator’s footsteps click against the wooden floor in the reception area, and he scrambled to pick up a framed photograph of her daughter sitting on the top of her desk.

  “That’s my favorite photograph of her,” she said, walking into the room. “Arianna had just turned three.” Her smile weakened. “That was taken in 2012, the year we discovered she had heart disease.”

  “Dr. Jeffrey Barrett performed the surgery on your daughter, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, he did. He’s an amazing surgeon.”

  “Based on what the newspapers say, he’s the best. How long had you known him?”

  “I didn’t. We met when he performed my daughter’s transplant earlier this year. My daughter’s cardiologist, Monica Feinstein, suggested I let Dr. Barrett take over for the transplant. It was kind of last-minute. Normally, I would have wanted to sit and talk with him, but there wasn’t any time. My daughter had been sick for two years, so when a heart became available, I based my decision on his reputation in the field, read the press reviews of his notoriety, and I placed my trust in his ability. Today, I thank God he saved my daughter’s life.”

  She took the framed picture from his hands and placed it back down where she’d had it, then made her way behind her desk, immediately noticing the opened drawer. For a second her facial expression seemed confused, possibly trying to remember if anything was missing, but when her demeanor changed, he knew she’d figured it out. She closed the drawer with her hip and was suddenly unable to look him in the eyes, lowering her gaze to her file drawer instead. Squatting down, she removed a file and placed it on the edge of her desk, her eyes looking everywhere except at him. “I know you didn’t come here for a social visit, Mr. Rossini, so get to your point quickly,” she said using a clipped tone.

  “Are you aware of the gossip circulating about your daughter’s transplant? People are saying you received special treatment because of your status.”

  She released an exhaustive sigh. “I’m not surprised. Everything I do is questioned or gossiped about,” she said wryly. “That’s the nature of the beast. It’s all part of the political arena. The opposition loves to start rumors so it’s documented before the next election, then they can use that in negative commercials.”

  “Doesn’t that concern you?”

  “Why should it?”

  “Because these rumors aren’t coming from your political opponents, they’re coming from within the hospital.”

  “Wait just a minute, Mr. Rossini. Just because I’m a senator doesn’t make the seriousness of my daughter’s illness any less of a priority than anyone else’s health. We were lucky a heart became available when it did.” She fumbled with her earring. “Was there anything else that you wanted?”

  “No. I wanted to see what you thought about the rumors.”

  She turned abruptly. “Well, now you know. Listen, I have to leave to check on my daughter. I’d appreciate it if you’d show yourself out.” She picked up the file and placed it into her briefcase. “Good day, Mr. Rossini.” She gestured her hand toward the door.

  “Thank you, Senator.”

  Walking back to his car, Cory couldn’t shake the feeling that the senator was hiding something, based on her sudden nervousness. If Barrett did perform an illegal transplant, the egotistical doctor was going to be drowning in a sea of troubles.

  Home in his townhouse, Cory removed his coat and left it on the banister, exhausted from his long day. He made his way to his bedroom, and changed into something more comfortable. When his stomach growled, he remembered the care package his mother had given him the last time he’d had dinner with the family. He pulled the refrigerator door open and removed the plastic container, popping the lid only to see a solid covering of mold.

  “Well, I guess I’m not eating that.” Disappointed, he carried the container to the trash can and dumped it out, and then took to searching the cupboards for something to eat. It suddenly occurred to him he couldn’t remember the last time he’d shopped for food.

  Donning his coat, he walked the few blocks to his car and drove to the supermarket. Entering the store, he reached for a small food basket and walked down the dairy aisle for milk, butter, and eggs when he noticed Jack’s mother. Surprised to see her, Cory hugged the short woman.

  “It’s so good to see you, Cory,” she said. “Have you been to see Jack?”

  “I’ve been to see him twice so far, Mrs. Hughes. I wish it were more, but I’m busy investigating his case.”

  “You know my Jack could never do something like this.”

  “I do know that, and that’s exactly why I’m working as hard as I can to get him freed. So tell me, how are you feeling after your fall?”

  “What fall?” she asked with confusion. “Where did you get that idea?”

  “I can’t remember where,” he lied, “but someone said you fell. Well, I’m glad you didn’t fall, and it’s a good thing you wear that First Alert around your neck.”

  She jerked her head back and stared at him with perplexity. “Cory, what the heck are you talking about? Are you getting sick?” Her hand automatically touched his forehead.

  “No.” He chuckled and feigned confusion. “I don’t think so. I guess you don’t have one of those either, huh?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Well, okay.” He released an embarrassed chuckle. “I must be working too hard, because I could have sworn you did have one. My parents do, so I guess I assumed all our parents wore them. And since you don’t, please give it serious thought, because living alone without anyone around to help if something were to happen can be pretty scary.” Pangs of anxiety attacked his stomach. Now, Jack was lying to him too. “Well, I need to get going. You call me if you need anything. I don’t care what time it is.”

  “You’re such a sweet man. I love you just like you were my own.”

  “I know that, Mrs. Hughes. Call me.”

  She waved him off. “Don’t be silly. I’ll be fine.”

  “I need to get back home to make some calls,” he said and headed for the checkout, his gut so loaded with fury that he wasn’t even hungry anymore. Tomorrow, he’d go to see Jack first thing in the morning to find out why he’d lied to him. Inside his car he was fuming. “What the fuck are you doing, Jack?” He spat out the words as though his friend were standing in front of him.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Cory waited in the visitors room for Jack to appear the next morning. When the door opened and Jack entered, Cory watched as th
e guard removed his cuffs.

  “And to what do I owe this great honor?”

  “We need to talk, but first I’ll get coffee from the machine. You still drinking it black?”

  “Yes. What’s the matter, Cory? You seem on edge today.”

  Cory didn’t respond; he just continued to the vending machine and filled two containers, capped them, and returned to where Jack was sitting.

  Jack removed the lid from the container and sipped the hot beverage. “Okay, you’ve got something on your mind, so spill your beans.”

  “I want to know why you lied to me about your mother’s fall.”

  “Oh, that.”

  “Yeah,” Cory shot back, “that.” His nostrils flared from anger. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

  “No,” Jack said, shaking his head. “I guess . . . Christ, I don’t know what I thought,” he answered in a flustered voice.

  Cory continued. “I ran into her in the supermarket last night, and she thought I’d lost my marbles asking her about the fall and the First Alert. If you lied to me about that, what else have you lied about?” His lips pursed. “The evidence the detectives have against you may be partially circumstantial, Jack, but they have enough proof and witnesses that they could put you away for a long time.” Cory blinked. “And now, you’re fuckin’ lying to me—your best friend,” he said through clenched teeth. “I won’t defend a liar, Jack. Friends or not.” He rose from his seat prepared to leave.

  “Are you shittin’ me?” Jack simply stared at Cory, seemingly waiting for the words to come from his mouth. “I’m not dealing with this loss very well, and half the time, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. My mind is locked on all the ways I should have shown my love to her . . . the things I should have said and done that might have convinced her to stay with me . . . and now, it’s too late. You have to know how much I loved Helen.”