by L Jan Eira
The siren blasted into the night. Inside the ambulance, Quentin continued with dogged determination. “One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, three-one-thousand…”
CHAPTER 46
A nurse led Claire, Quentin, and Ganz to the solace room. Anxious and concerned, none of them could sit still. Instead, they stood, marching in place, at the door so as to gaze at the cardiac room where Fuller was taken. Ten minutes later, the curtains to cardiac room three opened, and Jack walked out. For the brief moment the curtains were set aside, the commotion inside the room became visible. The dreaded reality they all feared was now on display as a white sheet, a telltale sign of the unsuccessful resuscitation, covered Fuller head to toe. Jack’s slumped shoulders and downcast eyes revealed the anguish and sorrow he was feeling inside. He joined the group in the solace room and sat down. This time, they were there to mourn one of their own.
“I can’t believe he’s gone,” said Quentin. “I must call his family. What will I tell them?”
Claire walked to Quentin and put her hand on her shoulder. “I know it’s tough. I’ll do it with you, Susan.”
“Thank you so much. I have done this so many times with so many different people. But now it’s one of our own.” Quentin’s eyes were moist, tears flowing down her cheeks. Claire sat by her, in her hand a box of tissues. Quentin dabbed her tears with a tissue and continued, “I should tell his wife in person. I think that’s what he’d want.”
“I’ll go with her,” said Ganz.
“Thanks, Mike,” said Quentin, her eyes on Jack and Claire. “You two go on home. Mike and I will take care of this. We’ll talk in the morning.” The river of tears flowed even more briskly now.
The four exited the emergency department and walked outside toward the parking lot. Quentin and Ganz entered a waiting police car and soon were on their way.
Jack and Claire exited through the main door, heading to Claire’s parked car.
“Claire, give me a minute,” said Jack suddenly. “I need to run downstairs. I’ll be right back.” With these words, Jack ran off into the guts of the hospital. In a few minutes, he returned with a large shopping bag full of medication vials, syringes, needles, a tourniquet, and alcohol swabs.
“What’s all this stuff for?” asked Claire, intrigued.
“All these people who have died, either in the hospital or at home, have done so in a cardiovascularly hyperstimulated manner. Herb tonight had a heart rate over two hundred beats per minute. That is incredibly difficult to fathom unless there are stimulatory drugs in his system. So these vials of medicines in here are drugs that block the cells in the body from being overstimulated.”
“Are you saying Herb was poisoned? I thought he had a seizure,” said Claire.
“He did have a seizure, but why? With a seizure, the heartbeat may quicken a bit, but not that fast. He had to be poisoned with the same stuff as the others,” concluded Jack.
“Rat Poison?” said Claire.
“Yes.”
Claire stood a moment. Numb. Stunned. “But who?”
“Herb and I have been suspicious of Mike Ganz.” Jack faced Claire, and their gazes locked on one another. “I think it’s Mike Ganz. He’s—” Jack suddenly stopped talking, a look of elation flooding his face.
“What’s wrong, Jack?”
“Mike Ganz. Mike Ganz,” he repeated with a progressively excited tone. “Mike Ganz!”
“What about him?”
“Don’t you get it? Mike Ganz. My guns!”
Claire shook her head, her eyes in a squint. “No, I don’t get it.”
“Herb was trying to tell me ‘Mike Ganz.’ I thought he was saying ‘my guns,’ but he was telling me the name of his killer. Mike Ganz.”
“Well, Mike Ganz is on the way to Herb’s house with Susan. What should we do about it?”
Jack thought a few seconds as he bit his lower lip. “I don’t think he’ll do anything to her. Not right now. He knows Susan doesn’t know anything. I think Herb approached Mike about his suspicions of him and that’s why he killed him.” Jack took in a deep breath. “Herb was going to approach Mike. I think he did tonight and paid the price.” He nodded his head and then his eyes found Claire’s. “If something happens to me, I’ll use these drugs in the bag. I think they’ll help me.”
“Wow, I don’t know what to say.” Claire paced back and forth a few steps. “I’m scared, Jack. What are we going to do?”
Jack shrugged his shoulders. He searched for his wallet in his back pocket. From it he removed two business cards. He put one back into his pocket and handed the other to Claire. “This is Susan’s card. Her cell number is on there. Call her if something happens to me.”
“What’s going to happen to you, Jack? I’m very scared.”
“I know you are, sweetheart. We’ll be all right. Let’s go home. Herb arranged for us to have police protection. I think we’ll be OK there. And a good night’s sleep will do us a lot of good!”
They walked to the car wordlessly and drove home. As they approached their house, Jack and Claire noticed a police car in the driveway.
“Good evening, Officer. We’re Jack and Claire Norris,” Jack said after he stopped his car next to the police car and opened up his window. It was a beautiful dark evening. The temperature was comfortable. The officer sat in the car with the windows open, enjoying the cool, delightful mist the autumn evening offered.
“Welcome home. Rest assured I’m on the job. Nobody will bother you while I’m here. I know a lot has happened, but you can feel safe. Sleep well,” reassured the cop. He was young but extremely well built with the kind of body structure that could only come from repeated trips to the gym.
“Can we offer you anything? Some coffee?” offered Claire, leaning over to see the policeman from the passenger’s seat.
“No, thanks, Mrs. Norris. I’m fine,” he said, lifting up his large cup of McDonald’s coffee. He smiled.
Jack drove on with a nod and wave of his left hand. Once in the garage, the automatic door closed. Jack watched as the garage door locked firmly in place. As Claire prepared to go to bed, Jack went around the house, door to door and window to window, making sure they were all properly and securely locked. As the last window was tested, Jack looked outside into his driveway. The police officer was now standing outside the car, leaning on the driver’s door, smoking a cigarette, and sipping his coffee.
CHAPTER 47
The room was dark. “Two thousand dollars to each of you,” offered the man, cell phone to his ear. He sported a multicolored robe and was sitting on a divan, his feet up on an ottoman. He was wearing his bedroom slippers and sipped coffee as he spoke. “Dead or alive, it doesn’t matter to me. But I don’t want any screw-ups. No mistakes.” His voice was cold but calm. “Don’t forget, you owe me. If you don’t do this and do it right, there will be consequences and payback.”
Outside the window, the wind was picking up, causing the tree branches to sway erratically.
The man continued. “I want this done right away.” Serenely and unhurriedly, he sipped from his coffee cup. “I want them both dead by the weekend.” He took a napkin and wiped his lips. “That gives you forty-eight hours.”
• • •
Jack and Claire felt safe with the police protection. In the morning, another policeman arrived to relieve the one who spent the night on sentinel duty. The newly arrived man seemed just as competent and professional as the other. The two cops were rewarded with coffee, bagels, muffins, and orange juice for breakfast.
Around midmorning, Jack left for an hour to purchase an alarm system. There was no time to have it done professionally, but Jack thought, I’m an electrician of hearts. I’m not all together unintelligent. How difficult can it be to wire this house safe?
Jack tried to contact Quentin. Several voice messages were left on her cell number. Finally, she called back, but Jack was on a ladder wiring the upstairs windows. He didn’t hear the phone ring. Later, when he realized he misse
d a call, he heard the voice message left by Quentin. She said she was sorry she had not answered her phone calls, but that she was busy comforting the Fullers. They had been close, and she felt it was her duty as a friend and colleague to be with his family. She vowed to call later in the evening or the next morning. Jack understood the pain and anguish they were suffering. He felt it, too.
When lunch was served, the police officer was invited inside to experience Claire’s wonderful culinary skills. Jack spent the rest of the day installing the alarm system. The task proved arduous and grueling.
“Why don’t we just get a dog?” he asked Claire.
“Is it working yet?”
“What, the dog?”
“No, the alarm system?”
“It’s all installed, but I need to plug into the electrical. You know, a dog doesn’t need electrical. They work on kibble, which is easier to install. I need to research this some more. I don’t want to short out the whole Evansville board. I’ll finish this tomorrow.”
“You call yourself an electrician? That’s a joke.” Claire smiled as they made eye contact. Dirt and oil stains were all over Jack’s face and clothes.
“Heart electrician! Not house electrician,” he amended.
“Doctors,” Claire shook her head, a faint smile on her face.
“Do you know how many psychologists it takes to change a light bulb?” asked Jack.
“No, how many?”
“Just one, but the light bulb really has to want to change.”
“Jack, do you know how many cardiac electrophysiologists it takes to change a light bulb?”
“No, how many?”
“Two. One to hold the bulb, the other to rotate the house.”
• • •
The evening was becoming more and more pronounced, the dusk beginning to reveal itself. The Norris residence stood among many houses in a row of never-ending domiciles. Unlike all others, their driveway was distinguished by a cop car, inside it an ever-vigilant police sentinel.
A dark sedan drove by, while its driver schemed and his passenger took notes and photographs. The vehicle passed by slowly and around the block once, noticing ingress points, escape routes, and places to hide, should the urgent need arise.
CHAPTER 48
Jack had begun to regain his confidence. Things were definitely resuming some degree of normalcy. Now it was time to make rounds. The medical group had entered room 622 as they discussed the intricacies of the patient’s medical problems. An elderly man lay in bed under the covers on his back, his hands under his head. The young doctors continued the discussion about the patient’s medical ailments. Barely noticeably, the man slowly moved both his arms under the linens. Engaged in the conversations, Jack and the others remained unaware of the patient’s activities. Subtly and covertly, the old man pulled his right arm out from under the bed sheets, exposing the small revolver. Suddenly, the patient sat up in bed, holding the firearm with both hands, the muzzle pointed at Jack. A loud gunshot sounded, the bullet traveling directly toward Jack’s forehead at two thousand feet per second.
The earsplitting sound caused Jack’s body to jerk awake from his nightmare. He sat up in bed, sweating profusely, heart pounding, and breaths deep and rapid. He looked over at Claire, who slept peacefully.
Despite trying, Jack couldn’t fall back asleep, his nightmare and the events of the last few days teasing him. Haunting him. He got up as slowly and as silently as he could, not to disturb Claire. He glanced out the window to see the police car parked on his driveway, a reassuring detail. A spotlight mounted high under the roofline illuminated portions of the front yard, driveway, and police car. A quick shadow passing over the driver’s door disappeared as rapidly as it had appeared.
What was that? thought Jack. Blowing tree-branch shadow? Whatever it was, it caught Jack’s eye. He strained to listen for unusual sounds. Nothing. No wind blowing, no dogs barking, no coyotes howling, no ghosts jingling. Nothing at all, just weary, utter silence.
Jack walked out of the master bedroom and took the steps on tiptoes to avoid making any sound. He opened up the kitchen door into the backyard and paused to soak in the calmness of the night. He turned on the flashlight he picked up in the kitchen and headed for the police car. He was deliberately strident and conspicuous as he approached the vehicle parked on the driveway, lest he would find the police officer fast asleep at his post. That would be not only awkward for both men, but more importantly, it would irreparably diminish the incredible reassurance the police car represented for him and Claire. On the other hand, maybe the officer would be superefficient and shoot him dead as he approached unannounced.
As he approached the automobile, he could see the officer sitting comfortably inside. He was still and quiet, his left arm hanging out the window, his head resting snugly on the headrest. Jack continued to approach, ensuring that he stepped on a small dry fallen tree limb to proclaim his arrival. The officer remained silent.
Now ten feet from the police officer, Jack took a whiff of a smell he recognized only too well. Fresh blood. This was a scent he was accustomed to in the operating room and emergency department but not on his driveway and not emanating from a professional dispatched to protect him and his wife. Surprised at the sensation and curious to learn more, Jack quickened his step toward the car.
Jack gasped uncontrollably. The police officer bled profusely from his neck, ear to ear. Jack noticed that the blood, though freshly spilt, had stopped spurting, indicating death was imminent for the police officer. Jack entertained the thought of checking for a pulse to be sure, but this impulse was immediately interrupted by thoughts of Claire. Jack ran into the house. Before he entered through the kitchen door, he first stopped in the garage to pick up a baseball bat. Then he made a quick stop by his cell phone, charging in a cradle on a table nearby. He dialed 911 and put the phone down. The police would get the call and dispatch help to the signal beacon. Or so he hoped.
Jack now frantically raced up the stairs toward the master bedroom. He took the stairs two by two and then three by three. He did so silently, hoping to use the element of surprise to his advantage. However, it was he who was surprised. When he arrived, he saw two men in the bedroom, both wearing black clothing and hoods covering their entire heads, save for the eyes. Tight surgical rubber gloves covered their hands. One of them was holding a gun, and the other detained Claire with his brawny, muscular right arm, his hand over her mouth. Aware that Jack entered the room, the man with the gun looked to his right to search for and turn on the lights in the room. As he did so, Jack knew this move would likely occupy the man’s attention for a split second and as such, represented his best option to strike first. This was probably the only break he would have to defend Claire. The baseball bat was hidden from sight at his side when he entered the room.
With the speed of a Bonanza A-36 airplane on steroid-laced fuel, Jack raised the Louisville slugger and struck the gunman with all his might. Surprised by the rapidity of the attack, the man took it on the left side of his skull, dropping the revolver. The blow was hard and bull’s-eye, causing the villain to become dazed and stupefied for some time, leaving Jack to contend with his counterpart. Astonished by the surprise attack on his partner, the second hooded man released Claire. Unimpeded, she could now breathe deeply. Her hands were hogtied, and she had a gag over her mouth.
The gun now lay on the carpet near the foot of the bed, equidistant to Jack and the second assailant. Wishing to take possession of the weapon, both dove for it, and both grabbed at it simultaneously. A struggle ensued between the two men. In the thrash about, the gun fired, striking Claire in the upper left chest, momentarily stealing her breath away. Blood gushed out the wound instantaneously as she gasped for air. The gun fell on the carpet again. For a split second, Jack became paralyzed with fear. Fear that he might lose the love of his life. This momentary distraction was what the second man needed to take possession of the gun. As he attempted to do so, Jack’s thoughts became ag
ain of his safety and that of Claire’s. Rapidly, he picked up the baseball bat and struck the gunman, hitting him on the head. He fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes, barely conscious. By now, multiple angry sirens approached in the night.
The first man had recovered sufficiently from his head injury and concussion. He was now able to stand up straight, though wobbly, and help his buddy to his feet. Given the severe vertigo and nausea, the first intruder had significant difficulty helping his cohort out the door and down the stairs. The second man continued to be nearly deadweight. Though the exit from the scene was arduous and complicated, the men were unimpeded by Jack, who held Claire in his left arm while holding pressure over the bleeding dike on Claire’s upper left chest. Her radial pulse remained strong, a good clinical sign. Her breath was rapid and short, no doubt a sign of a pneumothorax. Jack envisioned the air escaping Claire’s punctured left lung and into her chest cavity. Sobbing, Jack sat impatiently, waiting for the cops to arrive, adrenaline rushing into his veins, bringing even more nervous agitation to the ongoing torment and panic.
“We’re in the master bedroom,” yelled Jack when he could get his breath. “Upstairs.”
Police officers with guns drawn ascended the main staircase. As each cleared a room, the procession progressed toward the master bedroom. When the troops stormed in, Jack immediately asked for an ambulance. One was already on the way, although its intended patron would not be requiring it any longer. The officer in the police car on the driveway was already dead. An ambulance soon arrived.
CHAPTER 49
Jack was sitting at Claire’s side, his hand on hers. “I used to say I had no use for baseball. It wasn’t a real sport. Well, I changed my mind. That baseball bat John gave me for my birthday as a gag really came in handy, huh?
Claire lay in her ICU bed, a bag of red blood transfusing into an IV and a chest tube protruding from her left ribcage. This tube was hooked up to a suction apparatus helping her left lung to reexpand. The bullet had caused her lung to collapse, and she had lost a lot of blood, but luckily, it had missed all the major blood vessels. Surgery to repair her insides was uneventful, and she was now on her way to a speedy and full recovery. She would be transferred out of ICU in the morning and would go home soon thereafter.