“Belinda?” he mumbled.
“You’re awake,” she said softly.
“I must still be dreaming. You’re at work.”
“No, you’re not dreaming. I’m here to take care of you.”
“I don’t understand,” he said groggily.
“How do you feel?”
“Um, a bit better I think. My head isn’t as bad, the pain isn’t as sharp, and I don’t think I feel weak and weird anymore. I was feeling really strange when I came up here earlier. What time is it? How long have I been sleeping?”
“It’s almost two o’clock, so a couple of hours, I guess.”
“Tell me why you’re here and not at the hospital?”
“There was an accident on PCH and I couldn’t get home. I called my Department Director to let her know I’d be late, and she thought I was calling in to tell her I wouldn’t be back. I took the ball and ran with it.”
“You quit?”
“I did, though I didn’t say the words, I just went with her assumption, and before you ask, no I haven’t accepted the job. Even if I do I have two whole days to nurse you back to health. I’m not leaving here until you’re on the mend.”
“I don’t know what to say,” he mumbled as he sat up.
“Unless you’d prefer I go...” she said softly.
“Are you kidding?”
“I owe you an apology. Josh explained how you got hurt. You tried to tell me and I wouldn’t listen. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said with a smile. “It’s in my mental notebook.”
“Oh, great,” she groaned. “Will I be forgiven if I told you I brought some chicken soup and some salads back with me?”
“You’re already forgiven, but it’s still in my notebook.”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that, and go and fix you something to eat.”
“That sounds great. I’ll get up.”
“No, you won’t. I’ll bring it up here. Give me ten minutes.”
“I can’t stay in bed all day,” he protested.
“Sure you can, but I might let you out later to lay on the couch for a change of scenery.”
“Bossy,” he grinned.
“It’s in my job description. I’ll be back in a minute.”
She kissed him on the cheek, and as she turned to leave he reached out and grabbed her hand.
“Hey, if I didn’t make this clear, I’m really glad you’re here,” he said warmly, “and I’m sorry if I came on too strong about that job.”
“Thanks, I’m glad I’m here too, and you didn’t. I was being obstinate. I want to talk about it some more, seriously, I do.”
“Come here,” he said pulling her closer. “I need to hug you.”
Sitting on the edge of the bed she settled against his chest, and when his arms came around her she let out a long, contented sigh.
“Everything fell into place this morning,” she murmured. “It was intense, but it’s all good. I should have quit ages ago.”
“Sometimes when we put off making a decision fate steps in and makes it for us.”
“I think you’re right,” she said sitting up. “I’m going to fix your soup now. You need it.”
Her presence was comforting, and that in itself was healing. He waited until she left, then moving slowly from his bed he padded into the bathroom. Staring at his reflection he noticed the swelling had slightly receded, but the bruising looked the same. Taking a cloth he rinsed it in warm water, moved it across his face, then brushed his teeth and ran a comb through his hair.
I do feel better. Belinda’s right. Rest is the best thing for me right now.
Moving back to bed, he picked up his television remote and flicked on the set, tuning into the local station that had a mid-afternoon news program. There was nothing special happening, though there was coverage of the accident that had caused the traffic jam earlier in the day. It had been cleared and the traffic was back to normal, but the havoc had lasted for several hours.
“You can get home if you need to,” he remarked as she walked in carrying a tray. “The traffic has cleared.”
“Good to know,” she said placing the tray on his lap. “I do need to swing into the hospital to see George Barrett and clear out my locker.”
“This looks great,” he remarked eyeing the meal in front of him.
There was a large bowl of the soup, some buttered toast, a mug of hot tea, and a thin slice of the cheesecake.
“I have some food for dinner as well,” she said as he began to eat, “and plenty of that cheesecake. I took a mouthful when I cut that piece for you. It’s way too good!”
“This soup is delicious. I swear, if my face didn’t hurt, I’d have to say I’m feeling almost normal.”
“See! Rest,” she smiled, “nature’s healer.”
“Where’s Josh?”
“He went off for a hike and a jog. I hope he’s not lost. He’s been gone for ages.”
“That guy puts me to shame,” Blake said shaking his head. “He’s unbelievable. I don’t think I’ve ever been in the kind of shape he’s in.”
“Would you like me to take him home? Where does he live?”
“I’ll send him home in a taxi, or have one of my other guys pick him up. We’ll figure it out when he gets back.”
“Blake,” she said tentatively, “about working for George Barrett.”
“What about it?”
“I’ve been thinking all afternoon. Something’s off.”
“I know,” he said raising his eyebrows. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“I don’t mean about him, not exactly, I mean, something else. When he came into that first night he looked at me and said, help me.”
“Is that so surprising?”
“It’s the way he said it, and then he said, my house, and then, don’t leave me, you have to help me. At the time I thought it was just the mutterings of a man in pain and afraid of dying, but looking back on it I’m not so sure, and there are other things.”
“Like what?”
“He never has any visitors, and there are two tough-looking guys outside his door all the time. Day and night, and Fred Simons is always in his room, like he’s afraid to leave him.”
“So, Barrett wants security around him, and far as visitors, maybe he’s not a popular guy.”
“Blake, he used to be, and that’s another odd thing. Until about a year ago he was everywhere. He had a girl on his arm at the big events, he was photographed at all the clubs and parties, then suddenly, boom, gone.”
“Maybe he got tired of the scene.”
“Maybe, but he doesn’t even show up to collect his awards now, and something else that’s strange, when I visit him he doesn’t speak, he just stares at me, kind of... I don’t know, like he’s trying to tell me something but he’s afraid to utter a word.”
“Okay, that sounds a bit far-fetched,” Blake remarked.
“I’m telling you, he holds my hand, he squeezes it really hard, and he looks at me, urgently looks at me. I never say anything, I just smile and talk about the weather.”
“Huh,” Blake muttered. “I’m not sure what to say about all that.”
“Lastly, and maybe the most important thing of all, why have I been offered this job? I haven’t been nursing him, I’ve just been visiting. What about the nurses who have been tending to him? They could hire a nurse through an agency. Why aren’t they doing that? It would have saved them a bunch of money. Why me?”
“Now that’s a question I’d like an answer to,” Blake said soberly.
“I’m going to ask Mr. Simons when I talk to him today and see what he says.”
“You’ll be meeting with him?”
“I told him I’d give him my answer this afternoon. I’ll see him when I stop in to visit George. Like I said, he’s always there. Always. The only time I’ve seen him outside the hospital was the five minutes I spent with him at Cafe Miras.”
“Let’s say you’re right,�
�� Blake said thoughtfully, “and something sinister is going on. Do I want you walking into the middle of some kind of, I don’t know, criminal activity, or a place where there are bodyguards everywhere because Barrett’s life is under threat? It doesn’t thrill me, Belinda. It’s bad enough that I’ve heard so many rumors about that house.”
“Tell me about the rumors, what have you heard?”
“I’ve heard that girls go up there and can’t wait to get away because they’re groped from the moment they walk in the door. I’ve heard visitors aren’t welcome, and if they do show up they’re treated badly, and there are plenty of much better places to be in Malibu besides George Barrett’s house.”
“Do you realize how contradictory that is? Visitors aren’t welcome, and girls are groped. In order for girls to be groped, don’t they have to be invited? If visitors aren’t welcome, why would they be invited? It almost sounds as if it’s been put out there as, I don’t know, as a repellant.”
“What are you saying?” Blake asked.
“I’m saying,” she said taking a deep breath, “I think George Barrett is in some kind of trouble, and the thugs that are around him are a part of that trouble. I think he’s purposely not speaking because he’s afraid to, or because he’s been trying tell me he can’t speak freely. That’s what I’m saying.”
“You’re also saying you want to go into the hornet’s nest and find out what’s going on,” he sighed.
“I am and I do,” she said solemnly. “He was begging me to help him the night he came in, and I promised I would.”
“Belinda, if your theory is right, that could be the reason Simons wants to hire you. He’s worried Barrett may have said something to you,” Blake said grimly. “It wouldn’t have been difficult to find out you were the one who took care of him when he was brought in.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Simons gets you up to the house, and, poof, something happens to you.”
“Oh, shit,” she repeated.
“Yes, oh, shit.”
“Okay, I admit, now I’m a bit rattled,” she admitted, “but I can’t do nothing.”
“I’m only speculating, and the whole thing could be completely innocent. Maybe he was on drugs and these guys are keeping him on the straight and narrow, but Belinda, whatever we come up with, it’s only going to be a guess. We can’t know anything for sure.”
“How about this,” she said earnestly. “I go in this afternoon, talk to Fred Simons, listen really carefully to everything he says and see if I can pick up on something. Then I’ll talk to George, like always do, but find a way to ask him if he’s in trouble.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I don’t know, I might not be able to, but I’ll try.”
“I’m not crazy about any of this.”
“I’ll be in the hospital surrounded by people, I’ll be fine, and when I get back I’ll tell you absolutely everything. We can decide together where to go from there.”
“Be careful,” he warned.
“I will, I promise,” she said standing up and kissing him lightly. “You look so much better. You’re not gray anymore.”
“That soup was fantastic, thank you.”
“You want some more?”
“Nope, that was great.”
“I’ll clean up in the kitchen and head to the hospital. I want to miss the rush hour traffic coming back here.”
“Call me when you get there, and call me when you’re heading home, and Belinda, no risks! Got it?”
“Wow, you don’t just look better, you’re sounding better too,” she smiled. “Yes, I’ve got it.”
She carried the tray out the door, and as he watched her disappear he ran his fingers through his hair, the habit that said he was worried, or nervous, or both. Slipping from the bed he moved to his dresser and picked up his laptop, then climbing back between the sheets he opened it up and waited for it to power on.
While you’re gone I think I’ll do my own research on the question mark named George Barrett. Maybe you’re right, maybe he is in trouble. Let’s see what’s here.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
When Belinda walked into the trauma center and saw the injured and sick waiting to be seen, she felt a heady mix of emotion. Guilt, elation, concern, and for a brief moment she questioned her decision, but when she spotted Stephen Davis frantically racing from cubicle to cubicle¸ all she felt was relief.
As she’d promised she’d called Helen on her way in, and when she knocked and poked her head inside the Department Director’s door the paperwork was waiting.
“There you are,” Helen smiled. “Have a seat.”
“Thanks. Again, I really do apologize about the no notice thing.”
“Like I said, I’d been warned, and it’s not your fault you’re so popular.”
“Do you know if they talked to anyone else about the position,” Belinda asked as she sat down, “or was I the only one they were interested in.”
“Just you, and it happened fast. A couple of days after he was brought in the inquiries started.”
“Huh. That’s a bit weird, or am I missing something?” Belinda asked as she signed the documents.
“I don’t think you’re missing anything. I thought so at the time, but apparently you were very caring. I guess you struck a chord with Barrett’s minder.”
“I guess I did,” Belinda nodded, but I didn’t say a word to him. He was sitting there like a store mannequin. How could I have struck a chord?
“I’m sure you’re looking forward to the change.”
“I am. I think I stayed here past my sell-by date,” Belinda replied. “Is that it? Anything else you need from me?”
“That’s it. You’re free to go.”
“It’s strange, knowing I won’t be coming back here. Thanks for everything. You’ve been so good to me.”
“It’s been a privilege working with you,” Helen said standing up and walking around her desk. “You take care of yourself.”
“I will. You too.”
They hugged warmly, and as Belinda walked from her office and made her way up to the locker room, the feeling of relief continued to wash over her. There were only a few bits and pieces in her locker, and she was able to fit them into her bag, then steeling herself, she set off to visit George Barrett and talk to Fred Simons.
As she made her way to the elevators that would take her up to the exclusive executive wing, she happened to walk past the gift shop. An idea began to germinate, and moving inside she studied the magazines.
She often took George Barrett magazines, or the trade papers, and picking up a copy of The National Enquirer she held for a moment, then added a couple of other publications. After buying them she walked down the hallway to the ladies room, and locking herself in a stall she pulled off a sheet of toilet tissue, tore it into some very small squares, and began to write.
God I hope this works and I’m not doing something really dangerous. I probably am. Shit. If it looks too difficult I won’t do it. Practice, I have to practice first.
It only took her a few minutes to master the simple maneuver, then pulling her phone from her bag she called Blake.
“Hey, where are you?”
“In the ladies room. I’m about to go upstairs. Wish me luck.”
“I do. Call me the second you can, and remember what I said, don’t do anything risky.”
“Right, okay. Bye.”
As she ended the call, she stared at the magazines and the little scraps of toilet tissue in her hand.
“Yikes. I think you might call this risky,” she muttered, but shaking off any concerns she headed off to see her mysterious patient.
George Barrett’s room wasn’t a room, it was a luxuriously appointed suite comparable to a fine hotel, and was reserved for celebrity clients, or those with fat wallets.
It was shaped like an L, with a comfortable, furnished living space separate from the patient’s bed. Though there was no wall between the
two areas, the configuration allowed a certain amount of privacy for both. Whenever Belinda had visited, Fred Simons had remained on the sofa, his head buried in files and paperwork. As long as he didn’t change his habit, she was sure she could safely get the information she needed from George Barrett.
Knocking softly, she pushed open the door. As she knew he would be, Fred Simons was seated on the couch with papers spread out on the coffee table.
“Good afternoon, Miss Harris. Thank you for calling and letting me know you were coming in. I hope that means you have good news.”
“I have given my notice here,” she smiled, “but I do have some questions before I give my final answer.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Do you mind if I visit my patient first? I have some magazines for him.”
“Ah, yes, he looks forward to catching up on all the news from Hollywood. You’re very thoughtful to bring them.”
“It’s my pleasure. I’ll say a quick hello and be right back.”
“I’ll be here,” he assured her. “You can leave your bag if you want, unless there’s something in it you need.”
“Um, no I don’t think so,” she replied, and why do you want me to? You’ve never suggested that before, but I’d better. It might be weird if I don’t. “Thanks. It weighs a ton. I swear, I’m such a typical woman, though I should probably take my phone in case I get a call.”
Glad she’d thought of it, she reached into her bag, retrieved her phone and dropped it into her jacket pocket, then clutching the precious magazines she headed across the room.
“Hello, Mr. Barrett,” she smiled as she rounded the corner and approached his bed. “I have some magazines for you. I picked up the National Enquirer. There’s an article in here about that new TV show, Carnivore. I have a friend who might be in it.”
Heart pounding she opened the paper, then holding it with one hand, she slipped her other hand down the front of her shirt, into her bra, and pulled out some small pieces of tissue. He frowned, staring up at her, but when she placed one of them inside the paper, holding it there with her thumb, his face lit up. It read,
Blink once for yes, twice for no. Understand?
Eyes shining, he looked back at her and blinked once.
The Stuntman Page 15