“That’s just what I wanted to hear.”
Lee spent the next three hours listening to Dr. Rad talk about plant cancer, specifically crown gall disease. He told Lee of two Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine consultants who had recently completed research that involved using the plant alkaloid camptothecin to interfere with cancerous tumors in monkeys. Dr. Rad was excited about their findings and thought their groundbreaking research could potentially augment his own.
“I have to ask you, Dr. Rad, why didn’t you pursue working with them?”
“I tried, but at that time, the university was already focusing on other research, and I didn’t have the financial support I needed.”
When they finished talking, Lee stayed for a lunch prepared by Dr. Rad’s sister, and then went into the spare bedroom where all the doctor’s research books, journals, and notes were stored. He turned down the invitation to join them for dinner and instead worked long into the evening. Between what he had gathered that day and the copious notes he had taken when he had interned with Dr. Rad, he believed he had everything he needed.
“I ran across your notes on Henrietta Ray,” he said to Dr. Rad afterwards. “Can you tell me what the connection is between what she’s doing at Texas A&M and your research?”
“She’s using red clover to try to convert some of the leaf cell chemicals in order to prevent protein from breaking down, so the cattle or sheep or whatever animals graze on it get more protein in their systems. She wanted to know more about some of my extraction techniques.”
“Your notes ended rather abruptly. What happened?”
“I’m not sure. She stopped communicating for some reason.”
Lee prepared to leave. The expression on Dr. Rad’s face, and the brusque wave he gave Lee on his way out, told Lee the good doctor might still not be completely on board with him, but he wasn’t going to let that deter him. He was on a mission.
The next day, he contacted his former Cornell biochemistry professor and told him of Dr. Rad’s research and the potential link to the recent research performed at Johns Hopkins University. The professor told Lee he had met one of the Hopkins researchers at a conference in Washington the previous month and was intrigued with the idea of getting him and Dr. Rad together. He offered to contact him.
Next, Lee called Robin and asked her if she could help him get letters of recommendation from the University of Illinois regarding Dr. Rad’s research. She was certain she could, given that her father was still the dean of students there and had connections.
The next call he made was the most difficult, but it had the potential of having the greatest impact on Dr. Rad’s work.
“Hello, Father?”
“Yes.”
“How are you?”
“I’m fine.”
“I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Go ahead.”
“I’m told the University of Wisconsin has plans to build a medical research facility outside of Lake Geneva. They’re not publicly disclosing this, but I have reason to believe they may be using unprecedented plant genetic modification techniques in their research at this new facility.”
“What’s that got to do with me?”
“I’m getting to that. Do you remember Dr. Rad, the U of I researcher I worked under as an intern in between semesters at Cornell?”
“Vaguely.”
“Well, he has done phenomenal work in this area, and I would like to put the right people at UW in touch with him. I was hoping that with your contacts, you could help me with that.”
Silence.
“Are you still there?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
“So can you help me with this?”
“Send me something I can work with. Keep it short...and intelligent. Anything else?”
“No, Father. That was it. Goodbye.”
* * *
It didn’t take long for Lee’s former Cornell professor to tell him the Hopkins researcher was interested in Dr. Rad’s work and would meet with him. A few days later, Lee received a glowing letter of recommendation for Dr. Rad from the chair of the Department of Biological Sciences at the University of Illinois.
After hearing nothing back from his father two weeks after he had personally delivered the synopsis of Dr. Rad’s genetic modification work to him, he asked his mother about it.
“He’s been very busy lately.”
“He has no intention of making the call, does he?”
“I’m sure he’ll get to it as soon as he can, Lee.”
“It means a lot to me.”
“I know, dear.”
Surrendering to the expectation that his father wouldn’t come through, Lee drafted a three-page letter to Stonebugger that he believed contained the right balance of science and persuasion. He drove to the nearest mailbox and said a silent prayer as he dropped it in. Then he drove to his property where the contractor had broken ground for his house the day before.
The sight of an excavator, bulldozer, and front-end loader made him beam. If it hadn’t been for his research on what it took to build a house, he would have had no idea what these things were or what they were used for. He walked to the edge of the massive hole that would be the basement and foundation for the house.
Later, he went to the inn for “a cold one.” He was disappointed CJ was not behind the bar.
“Where’s CJ tonight?” he asked the bartender.
“Called in sick.”
He downed his beer and left.
Lee headed west toward Durand where CJ lived, although he didn’t know what he would do once he got there. When he reached her house, which was only partially visible from the road, he pulled onto the shoulder and sat for a few moments. He wished he had her phone number, as a phone call would have been far less intrusive than a knock on her door. The more he thought about knocking, the more he thought that was a bad idea. Sighing, he put the car in drive and pulled up a couple of feet to turn around and head home.
He shot one last glance toward her house and saw the tail end of a sheriff’s patrol car in her driveway. Lee knew McHenry County had more than one sheriff’s car in its fleet, but odds were this one belonged to the father of CJ’s children. His mind raced through the possible scenarios of why DeRam would be there. Perhaps CJ had called in sick in order to spend time with him—a discouraging thought, but he had to consider the possibility. His next thought was even more disturbing: what if she was in trouble and needed help?
Lee instinctively got out of the car and started walking up the driveway toward the house.
“No! I said no!”
CJ’s voice was unmistakable.
Lee ran to the door and tried to open it. It was locked. He backed up to get a running start and slammed his body against it. The door gave way, and he flew into CJ’s living room, landing on his shoulder not ten feet from her and DeRam, whose trousers were partially down. The half-naked sheriff had CJ pressed up against the sofa. The fear on her face incited Lee to act.
Words he had heard his karate masters speak through the years raced through his head.
Keep a calm mind and your emotions under control.
Use words first before you strike.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” De Ram shouted.
Lee stood tall. “Get off her,” he said in a calm voice.
“Mind your own goddamn business!” DeRam’s upper body twisted as he reached over CJ toward his utility belt that lay on the sofa cushion next to them and grabbed his gun.
Using a move he hadn’t practiced since his last karate class, Lee deftly kicked the gun out of his hand and sent it flying into the hallway.
The look of surprise on DeRam’s red face quickly turned into a menacing scowl. “What the fuck?”
Clumsily pulling up his pants, he stood and faced Lee.
“Get in the other room,” Lee said to CJ, without taking his eyes off DeRam. She did as he said.
“You fucking bastard. Who the hell do y
ou think you are busting in here like that?” He glanced over to where his gun had landed.
“You need to leave.”
“You know who you’re talking to, prick head? You’ve just busted into someone else’s home and damaged her property in the process. I ought to arrest you.”
Lee maintained his composure. “You need to leave.”
DeRam took a step closer, showing Lee his clenched fist, as he used the other hand to hold up his pants. “You’re going to be taught a lesson, rich boy.”
“I wouldn’t try that if I were you.”
DeRam lunged at him.
Lee ducked out of his way.
“Now you’re really pissing me off, you son-of-a-bitch.”
Though fighting the urge to explode, Lee managed to remain calm, exactly as he had been taught in karate class.
DeRam lunged repeatedly, and each time Lee ducked out of his way. Then DeRam bent over, pulled out a knife from underneath his pant leg, and lifted it as though to strike. Lee heard a gasp from CJ, who was now peering around the corner from the hallway.
Lee kicked the knife from DeRam’s hand, inflicting a strong reverse foot punch to his forehead. He executed the blow in such a way as to stun DeRam and avoid causing a serious injury. Lee then initiated a side-thrust kick to his ribs that caused the sheriff to collapse to the floor. CJ ran into the room to retrieve both the gun and the knife and then quickly ran out again.
The sheriff lay face-up, pants halfway down, his eyes shut and teeth clamped tight in a grimace. He rubbed his right side.
“CJ!” Lee cried out. “Can you bring a blanket or something to cover him up?”
CJ entered the room with a tablecloth. She threw it over him and asked, “Is he okay?”
Lee nodded and walked over to the sofa to remove the set of handcuffs from the sheriff’s utility belt.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Just for our protection until we figure out what to do with you.”
“Go to hell.” The sheriff attempted to sit up, but instead winced in pain and lay back down again.
Lee attached one end of the handcuffs to DeRam’s left wrist, forced his arm through the leg of the radiator, and attached the other end of the cuffs to his right wrist, making it impossible for him to do anything but stay lying on his back latched to the radiator.
“What should we do?” CJ whispered.
“Let’s go in the other room.” Once out of earshot from the sheriff, Lee asked, “Are you all right?”
“Yeah.”
“You sound terrible.”
“I have a cold or the flu or something.”
“Where are your kids?”
“With Frankie. She’s watching them at her house so they don’t catch it. So what are we going to do with him? Should we call an ambulance?”
“We could, but he’ll be all right. He may have a headache for a couple of days, and his ribs may be sore for a while, but he’ll be fine.”
“What happens when we let him up?”
“Did he hurt you?”
CJ turned her head.
“Look at me. Did he hurt you?”
“He was forcing himself on me when you came flying in. Those are some kick-ass moves you have!”
“And the bruise on your face from last week? I can still see it.”
“He caught me at my car after work one night, and when I ducked to avoid him trying to kiss me, I hit my face on the edge of the car door. Bastard.”
“How did he get in today?”
“He said he wanted to talk.”
“And you let him in?”
“He looked sincere, and I thought I could handle him, so...”
Lee stared at her.
“I know. I know. I shouldn’t have let him in.”
“Do you want to press charges against him?”
“Like what?”
“Attempted rape. Assault. I don’t know all the possible charges.”
DeRam mumbled something from the other room.
“We can call the police, or the sheriff’s department. Who has jurisdiction here?” Lee asked.
“The sheriff...but even though Bern is from another district, they all know each other, and...”
“And what?”
“They all stick up for each other, turn a blind eye to certain things.”
“So why don’t we let the good sheriff decide what we do?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
DeRam let out another guttural noise and shouted, “Get me the fuck out of these cuffs!”
Lee led the way back to the living room and stood over him. “Not so fast, DeRam. We need to make a decision here, and you get the deciding vote.”
“Shut the fuck up, and get me out of these.”
“Be patient, Sheriff.” He paused long enough to make the sheriff grimace. “Now, we could call for an ambulance to make sure you’re all right. Of course, they would ask all sorts of questions, and I, being a witness to an attempted rape, would answer their questions with utmost candor. Then again, we could call law enforcement and make formal charges against you. Let’s see, attempted rape on her, assault on me with a deadly weapon. Have I left anything out?”
“You asshole.”
“Didn’t your parents teach you it isn’t nice to call people names?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“What’s your vote, Sheriff?”
“Look, CJ and I were just getting into a romantic moment when you broke down the door,” DeRam said, his tone contrite. He glared at CJ. “When she told me she didn’t want to go any further, I was going to back off. You just came in right before I had a chance to do that. Now take these cuffs off me. I’ll leave, and we can all forget this ever happened.”
“Excuse us for a minute, will you, Sheriff?”
Lee led CJ to the kitchen and whispered, “We have him in a sticky position, and he knows it. What do you want to do?”
“I want to let him go and forget it ever happened, like he said, but what about tomorrow...or next week...or next month? I’m afraid of what he’ll try to pull.”
“It’s not too late to call an ambulance. That would show we care about his well-being, but it would also open up an investigation.”
“I don’t know.”
Lee gave her a moment to think it through.
“I wish he would just go away.”
“I know. I do too.” He touched her shoulder. “C’mon. I have a plan.” He led her back to the living room and stood over DeRam, his slight body looming over the cowering sheriff.
“We’re going to let you go, DeRam. But I suggest you go from here straight to the public library and read up on black belt karate. You may find it interesting.”
“Just unlock these fucking cuffs.”
“Where’s the key, Sheriff?”
“In my back pocket, Winecrap.”
“Roll over.”
The sheriff grunted.
“Roll over, or I’ll do it for you.”
When DeRam didn’t move, Lee took his foot and rolled him over enough to expose his back pocket. He pulled the tablecloth over him to cover his bare butt and reached into one of his back pockets. He touched something soft inside and pulled it out.
“What’s this?” Lee held up what looked like a hand-rolled cigarette.
No response.
Lee showed it to CJ. Her grin said it all.
Lee stooped down to reach into the other pocket, retrieved the key, and unlocked the cuffs.
Once free, the sheriff scrambled to adjust his pants, and after getting up off the floor, grabbed his gun, knife, and handcuffs, all of which CJ had placed on the dining room table. He bolted out the front door, mumbling something inaudible on the way.
Lee and CJ stared at each other for several seconds, and when CJ looked as if she was going to cry, Lee hugged her for a brief moment before sitting down with her on the sofa.
“Look…he forgot his belt,” she said.
“I’ll
take care of it. Are you all right?” he asked her.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll get someone over here to fix your door.”
“Will you stay with me until that’s done?”
“Of course.”
“The phone’s in the kitchen. Hey, what are you going to do with the joint?” she asked.
“Nothing for now.”
Lee called his contractor and asked him if he would send someone over right away to fix the door and then asked if he could recommend someone to install a security system on the house and trim the tree in the back, the one Travis had climbed.
CJ had her head in her hands when Lee returned to the living room.
“What’s wrong?”
“I hate him!” She raised her head up to look at Lee. “And the worst part is he’s so unpredictable, and there...I wish we could put a fence around where I live and work to keep him out. I just want to be free of him. Is that asking so much?”
He wanted to console her, put his arms around her, let her know things would be all right, but he knew he couldn’t promise that.
“No. It’s not asking so much.”
On his way out, Lee stopped his car at the end of CJ’s driveway, got out, and prominently hung the sheriff’s bulky utility belt on a low branch of a box-elder maple tree where the sheriff, and anyone else driving by, could easily see it.
15 | Bittersweet Victory
Two weeks after Lee had sent the letter to Stonebugger, he received a call from his secretary.
“Your request has been approved,” she said.
Did I hear correctly?
“Is there anything he and I need to discuss then?”
“No. I’ll put his response to your letter in the mail today.”
There was sadness in her voice. “Is everything all right?”
“Mr. Stonebugger lost his sister yesterday...to cancer.”
The news surprised him. “I’m sorry to hear that. Had she been ill long?”
“I’m not sure. Mr. Stonebugger is a very private man. All I know is he’s been taking care of her for the past two months.”
“How is he doing?”
“Not well.” Her voice cracked. “Apparently they were very close.”
“I’m sorry to hear that too. If there’s anything I can do to help...”
Red Clover Page 13