“Wow, all that on your first day, huh? I’m impressed. What does that leave for your schedule tomorrow?”
She couldn’t help but laugh. He had a way of pulling the plug on her stormy moods before they short-circuited her brain.
“Tomorrow I am being drawn and quartered. Want a frontrow seat?”
“Eww! Tempting. Too bad I have a date with a beautiful shepherd.”
“Sneaky’s coming home?” Her sad mood vanished. “She’s gonna be okay?”
“Yep. She’s going to need rest and maybe some rehabilitation. I can handle all of that. No need to run up the bill. Besides, I figured I could spoil her rotten before you get back.”
“See how you are?” She pulled a strand of hair from the back of her neck and twirled it around her finger. She untucked her legs from beneath her bottom and crossed them at the ankles. Leaning back into her pillows, her body relaxed and she sighed.
“Want to talk about it?” he said, concerned.
“About which? My dream? My fear of needles? Or how much I hate my dad?”
“Well,” he paused, “I have until eight tomorrow morning. Start wherever you like.”
“I couldn’t do that to you.”
“Tell you what: If I start humming Frère Jacques or snoring—”
“You know that song?” He began to sing to her in French. She started to laugh. She felt better already.”
***
Hours passed before Jenna regained full consciousness. She waited, listening. The clock ticked on the wall. No footsteps.
Dawn brightened the room, yet she couldn’t believe it. He’s gone
Jenna crept along walls, waiting for Jess to jump out and scare her like he’d done a hundred times since they married years ago.
He thought it was funny. She developed anxiety.
She entered the bedroom and opened the closet door, slowly. Her eyes immediately shut, a reflex that went along with raising her arms in front of her face. Nothing happened this time. She was chilled to the bone, yet she didn’t feel the cold. Numb, she pulled a pair of jeans off of one hanger and a hooded sweatshirt off of another. She didn’t take the time to look for underwear. Jess could come back any second.
Shoes. She bent down to grab a pair of shoes when she noticed the carpet pulled away from the wall. What is he up to? Her hand felt along the baseboard. The board below lifted easily. She reached inside touching what seemed to be an envelope. She couldn’t resist.
After glancing over her shoulder, Jenna hurried to examine the envelope’s contents. A diamond ring, a baby tooth, and a lock of hair. What did it all mean? She dug inside once more, extracting a photo. A woman, possibly in her late twenties, smiled at the camera, in her arms a baby boy. Jenna ran her finger over the two rough spots where the woman’s eyes should have been. Tiny burn marks stared back. Jenna turned the photo over. The words inscribed on the back made her flesh crawl. Love, Mom.
Jenna ran and ran.
Bright sunlight hurt her eyes. Blisters hurt her feet. The door felt heavy in her hand. Locked. Defeat weighed heavy on her heart. She couldn’t stand in the open. I’ll find you, Jess’s warning echoed in her mind. Her body shook, feeling vulnerable, afraid.
Outside the station, a man touched her shoulder, and she jumped.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you!” he said, slipping his card in the small box above the door handle. He turned his back to Jenna, entered his password, and waited for the tiny red light to turn green. He pushed down on the handle and opened the door. “You’re coming in, I presume,” he said with a warm smile. As he held the door open, Jenna rushed passed him with great relief. “Name’s Spiderelli, ma’am. Detective Frank Spiderelli.”
“Jenna. Jenna Bartell,” she stammered. The hair on Spider’s arms stood up. Adrenaline rushed through his veins.
“Any relation to Jess Bartell?” he asked innocently.
“Do you know him?” she asked quizzically, her hands shaking. “I do. He’s a big-shot lawyer, right?”
“That’s why I’m here, detective. He tried to kill me. I’m afraid of what he’s going to do if he finds me.” Her body trembled, her lip quivered.
Spider lead her to a chair and gently pressed her down. “Not a chance of that happening. You’re safe now.”
“You think so? Then you don’t really know him, do you?” Frank Spiderelli’s skin tingled with excitement. He leaned in closer.
“Enlighten me. I’m all ears.”
CHAPTER 22
FRANCES SIMMS
M orning sun glittered neat manicured lawns. Birds chirped, heralding a new day. Fran Simms stepped outside to fetch the newspaper, adjusting her robe against the chill. She opened the paper wide and began to read absent-mindedly, stepping back inside the house. When she turned to close the front door, something caught her eye. Startled, she caught her breath.
“Didn’t mean to scare you, Mrs. Simms!”
“Jess! What on earth? I didn’t— That your car parked across the street? I thought yours was red.”
“Oh, nuts. Grace didn’t tell you I was coming, did she?”
“No. No, she didn’t.”
“Wow, I feel like a wart.” He bowed his head and looked rejected.”
“She’s had a lot on her mind, all things considered. Won’t you come in? I can make a pot of coffee.”
“That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Simms.”
“Fran.”
“Very nice of you Fran, but—”
“Don’t say another word. Come in.”
“Okay,” he smiled slyly, “if you insist.”
Jess followed Fran into the kitchen. He pulled a chair away from the table and sat down. He watched her move gracefully from the sink to the cabinet and back to the counter. He admired the similarities. Like mother, like daughter.
“I haven’t actually spoken to Grace. She left a message letting
me know she got to the hospital all right.” “Thank God,” he said, dramatically.
“She hates when I worry,” Fran chuckled. “She’ll be fine. They should have all the prelim stuff done before noon.”
“What exactly does that entail?” Jess crossed his legs and leaned back against the chair. His attention fixed on Fran’s every word.
“They’ll draw obscene amounts of blood, monitor her stats, and wait for results.”
“Sounds pretty uneventful.”
“Well, the hard part comes if they choose to draw the marrow.”
“Ouch. I know how Grace hates needles.”
“Yeah, she’ll be sore for a few days.”
“Insurance still allow for time to recoup?” Jess was grasping at straws. He still wasn’t sure what the hell was going on or why she was at the hospital.”
“Not to worry. Bone marrow donors are completely covered.”
“Good. That makes me feel one-hundred percent better.”
“St. Joe’s is the best too; she’ll get great care.”
“Yes, I’ve heard wonderful things about that hospital. I’m sure she’ll be fine. Is there anything I can do for you? Give you a lift to the hospital or anything?”
“Visiting hours don’t start until 11:00. Besides, I’m not sure she’ll be up for visitors yet.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I just wanted to lend my support. Hold her hand.” Jess gave a crooked smile, acting all shy. Fran was easily duped by his boyish charm.
“Are you staying close by? I have an extra room if you’d like to stay here. St. Joe’s is only five minutes up the freeway.”
“You’re so kind. I just may take you up on your offer. Let me check in with my office first. I have a friend in Tijuana, and I promised to get a deposition while I was down here. Work, work, work.”
“Yes, everyone is spread so thin nowadays. Speaking of thin,” her eyes narrowed a bit, “how is that lovely wife of yours? Jenine? Jennifer?”
“Jenna. I believe she’s doing well. Grace didn’t tell you? Oh, gosh, we’ve been separated—for months.”
“No worries,” Jess said. “Hey, that coffee smells divine.” Fran took the hint and poured two cups full of steaming brew. Jess seemed less affected by her questions as time passed by.
“Mind if I use your restroom?”
“Not at all. Down the hall to the right.”
“I’ll be a moment. Excuse me.” Jess got up and returned his chair to its original place. He didn’t intend to sit back down. He had the information he needed. Time to leave.
Fran suspiciously watched Jess move down the hall. Grace had warned her about him, suggesting more than once that he wasn’t the “prince charming” everyone believed him to be. Yet Fran found the bad boy intriguing. Curiosity, nothing more. What makes men like him tick? Her answer came sooner than she expected when Jess returned to the kitchen, grabbed a cast-iron rooster and bashed her over the head.
Jess whistled a tune as he opened the garage door. He slipped into a pair of Versace sunglasses and pulled away in Fran’s blue Galaxy.
***
Grace stared at the ceiling trying to ignore the painful stint in her wrist. How much blood did they need? She envisioned herself lying by the pool in the Poconos, sipping a piña colada. When the phlebotomist capped the last vial and untied the rubber tubing from Grace’s arm, Grace reached for her cell phone. She realized the three-hour conversation she had with Paul last night left her battery run down to nil. Too bad I’m disconnected from the outside world.
News of having a half-sister niggled at her mind. What would she say to her mother? “Oh, by the way, thanks for hooking me up with the fam-damnly?” Did her mother even know? Dr. Meltz knew; that was betrayal enough. No wonder she felt a sense of anxiety when it came to commitment. Deep inside, she must’ve known things were rotten in her parent’s marriage. Secrets. You can sweep them under a rug, but they always leave a stain. It all made perfect sense to her now: Why her mother acted cold when the Meltz’s came over. Why Shirley Meltz felt it necessary to get stinkin’ drunk around her dad. She could only guess at why Dr. Meltz had a fondness for her all these years. Was it revenge? You took my wife, I’m going to steal your daughter’s heart? Huh. Her dad, busy acting like Don Juan, while Dr. Meltz acted like a father. She almost regretted the harsh words she spoke to him yesterday. And how ironic: that the man who caused this mess can’t even remember his own name.
A nurse entered the room, interrupting her mental tryst.
“Hello, Miss Simm’s. I’m Janet. We’ll be taking you down in a few minutes, but first, I’ll be injecting something in your IV to make you a little more comfortable.”
***
Jess parked in the area marked “staff only.” The sticker on Fran’s car provided him entry. Blue scrubs helped him blend in. He swiped Fran’s badge across the sensor and entered the side door. He felt a tune coming on. Duran, Duran’s, “Hungry Like A Wolf.” He whistled softly to himself.
Two aides smiled as they passed him by. He stopped short to get their attention. “Excuse me, ladies,” he said, pouring on the charm. “I seem to be turned around. I just transferred from UCD, second-year med student. I’m supposed to be assisting a bone-marrow transplant. Traffic was murder getting down here. Can you direct me to the surgery suites?
“Sure, no problem.” The redheaded girl pointed the way. Jess thanked her and hustled down the corridor. He followed signs to “Lobby.”
He approached the front desk and smiled brightly. “Hi there,” he said crouching until he could read the woman’s name tag. “Stella. Hi there, Stella. I was wondering if you could help me. My cousin was admitted yesterday. My mom left me a message, giving me the room number, but I accidentally erased her message.”
The woman behind the desk showed no sympathy. “Stella” wasn’t buying his story.
“Okay, I admit, it wasn’t an accident,” he said shamefully. “She calls me ten times a day. She gets lonely. Sometimes, I delete her messages without listening. I didn’t have the heart to tell her. Can you help me? Please?” The woman rolled her eyes as if she had heard it all.
“Yeah, yeah. What’s your cousin’s name?”
“Simms. Grace Simms.”
***
Grace felt her body float away. Nothing mattered. No cares, no worries, only bliss. Lights flickered overhead. A >ping< sounded in the distance. The attendant called out, “Hold the elevator, will you, man?” She felt the gurney slow-bounce over tracks and stop.
“Thanks,” the attendant said, gratefully.
“No problem. Where you headed?”
“Lower Level.”
Jess? Grace tried to wave, but her hands were frozen to her sides. A disturbing thought cut through the haze. What is he doing here? Her weighted lids fought to open. Too late, Alice. Down the rabbit hole she went.
***
LuLu’s fate remained in God’s hands. Marcus Meltz could not control the outcome of the bone-marrow biopsy. He could merely observe. If she had slept with anyone else, he thought, pondering his wife’s indiscretion, I would not be standing here. Yet, reflecting back on the years, he would not change a thing.
He clasped his gloved hands behind his back and focused on the procedure. He had called in every favor he was owed over a course of thirty years to get this transplant done. He winked at the surgeon holding the large syringe. One of the guys. They went way back.
“Get ’er done, Ben,” Marcus nodded.
A surgical nurse shaved a small patch around Grace’s pelvic bone, swabbed it with Betadine, and stepped back.
“Heard this is Roger’s kid,” Ben said casually, peering over his surgical loupes. He pressed Grace’s skin with his finger, feeling for a point of entry.
Marcus knit his brow together. He shook his head in denial. “Must’ve heard wrong,” he said, locking Ben’s gaze.
“Must have,” Ben retorted, centering the needle’s tip on Grace’s flesh. He cocked his elbow and pushed, the needle breaking through Grace’s skin with a pop. “Never did pay close attention to rumors,” he said.
It pained Marcus to see the long needle disappear into Grace’s pelvis, but it sickened him to think how much she hated him at the moment when he loved her most.
***
Paul lifted the long-haired shepherd into his truck. The dog’s sad eyes about broke his heart. Paul knew the dog had been through trauma once before. He also knew dogs didn’t forget. They had memories like humans. They felt pain and sadness and fought depression, just like we do. Paul stroked the silky fur reassuringly.
“She’ll be back before you know it, girl. Life is going to be just fine.” His conversation with Grace last night reaffirmed his mission. She’ll forgive you one day.
Paul started his truck and headed for the city. Before he went home, he had a stop to make.
***
Sal sputtered her words. “Wha— Oh my, Ga— I can’t believe it. Bring her here to me.” Sal rushed to Sneaky’s side. Tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, Paul, you have no idea how hard I have prayed for this moment. Thank God she’s okay.” Sneaky whined weakly. Her body collapsed on the office floor, her snout rested on her paws.
“She’s going to be weak for a while,” Paul said. “The vet said she may have a few quirks from the blows to her head. Only time will tell.”
“Any word on who did this to her?” Sal smoothed the dog’s fur, lovingly.
“Not yet.”
“I’ll kill ‘em with my bare hands!”
“I had an easier task in mind. Can you keep an eye on her for a couple of days.”
“Why? What’s going on Paul?”
“No worries. I promised Grace I would take good care of her, which I intended to, but I got this call. I have to fly to Portland.” “You’re ditchin’ us, aren’t you?” Sal eyed him suspiciously.
“Pour Quos? Why would I do a thing like that?”
“Don’t blow smoke, French Fry. I only speak one language— truth. If you’re not speaking the truth, I have this nasty
habit of finding out.” Sal stood erect and stepped into his space, “It’s most annoying, I assure you.”
“I am speaking the truth when I say…I can’t think of another person I would trust to take care of Sneaky. Now can you do it or not?” Sal searched his face.
“You’re up to something, I can tell. However, I’m not sensing that you mean my best friend any harm.”
“Now that is the truth.”
***
Paul jumped into his truck and sped away. His gut told him he was already too late; his heart told him he was headed in the right direction.
By the time he reached Jess’s house, it was swarming with police. He recognized one of the men from the Twenty-Second Precinct. The officer standing on the sidewalk blocked Paul’s way. “You can’t be here, fella. We’re doing an investigation.”
Another man rushed forward. “Spiderelli, Detective Spiderelli,” the detective interjected. “You’re a friend of Grace Simm’s,” he continued, addressing Paul.
“Yes, I am.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Looking for Jess Bartell.”
“How do you know Jess Bartell?”
“Met him a few times at Grace’s. Had a question for him. He’s a lawyer, right?”
“You need a lawyer for something untoward?” the cop sneered.
“Maybe I should come back another time. You guys look busy.”
“How well do you know Jess Bartell, Mister—”
Paul extended his hand to Spiderelli. “Fortier. Paul Fortier. Like I said. I met him at Grace Simm’s house. He said he was a lawyer. I needed some information. I can probably get it off the internet. I was in the neighborhood and had a few minutes.Thought
I’d stop by. May I ask what happened?”
“Nah, none of your—” the cop started. Spiderelli interrupted.
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