Heart Failure (15 page)

“Yeah,” Bill said. “She was having second thoughts about calling 911 when we started to load her onto the gurney, but she was pale, her blood pressure was a little low, and the neighbor who was with her insisted that she should be seen by a doctor.”

“So a neighbor was there,” Carrie said. “Do you know if she’s taking care of Shelly’s son?”

“That’s right,” Rob said. “The woman’s sort of a grandmother type, and I got the impression she does that a lot when the mother has to go somewhere and can’t take her son.”

Carrie pushed back her chair. “Thanks. I’ll have the social worker make contact with her. We need to be certain the little boy’s taken care of until his mom is released.”

Carrie was a dozen steps away when she heard, “Dr. Markham?”

Carrie turned to find Rob behind her. “Yes?”

“I . . . I wonder if you’d like to have dinner with me while your boyfriend’s gone. I’ve been on my own before, and it’s no fun.”

“Thanks anyway, Rob, but I’ll be fine until Adam gets back.”

She turned to walk away, but apparently Rob wasn’t through.

“So where did he go? How long is he going to be gone?”

“Rob, I’m sorry. I have to get back to my patient.” She turned and hurried away before the young man could say anything else.
Can’t he take no for an answer?

Adam dropped his suitcases and flipped the switch to illuminate the bedside lamp of his motel room. After making sure the door was double locked, he closed the blinds and pulled the heavy drapes together. Then he slumped onto the bed.

He closed his eyes and wondered how Carrie was doing. It frustrated him when his cell service failed earlier today, but at least he’d been able to tell her he was all right. In a bit, he’d call from the landline in his room, and they could talk as long as they wanted.

It had been a disappointment, but not a surprise, when Carrie said she wasn’t ready to take back his ring. He wished she were wearing it now. On the other hand, if he did what might be necessary to protect her from Charlie DeLuca, there was a very real possibility Adam wouldn’t be able to keep a wedding date anytime soon.

Well, it was too late to turn back. He should reach his destination tomorrow. Now there was another call to make, one that was critical to his mission. He dialed Dave’s cell number, but the call, like the one that preceded it earlier in the day, went unanswered. Adam had already left one message. No need to leave another. He’d try again later.

Adam’s grumbling stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since lunch. No problem—he’d seen signs for several fast food places nearby. One of them would probably be open late. He’d get a burger and malt, then call Carrie. After that, a shower and a good night’s sleep.

He started to get up, then fell back onto the pillow. He was exhausted. He’d rest for a few minutes, maybe half an hour. Then he could be up and running.

Adam heeled off his shoes, pulled the spread over him, turned off the bedside lamp, and closed his eyes. After what seemed like only a few minutes, the ring of the phone brought him awake. He grumbled as he sat up and turned on the lamp. Adam snatched his cell phone from the bedside table, but the display was dark. His sleep-clouded mind finally cleared enough for him to realize that the ring came from the room’s telephone.

Who could be calling? No one knew he was here. If this was a wrong number . . . He had to clear his throat twice before he could rasp out, “Hello?”

“This is Jeremy at the front desk. We were wondering if you planned to spend another night with us.”

Why was this nut calling? Adam had just checked in less than an hour ago. He glanced at his watch and was startled to see it was twelve o’clock. The phone cord barely stretched to allow Adam to pull aside the drapes and peek through the slatted blinds. When he looked out he did a double take. It wasn’t midnight-dark. It was noontime-bright. He’d slept for almost fourteen hours!

“I’m sorry. Yes, my plans have changed. I’ll be staying one more day.”

“Very good, sir. Fortunately we can accommodate you without your having to move. Have a good day.”

Adam checked the display on his cell phone. No missed calls, no messages. A growling stomach reminded him that his last meal had been twenty-four hours ago. A cup of coffee brewed in the room’s pot, with all the sugar and creamer available, would have to hold him until he could make himself presentable. After twenty minutes, showered, clean-shaven, dressed in clean clothes, he headed for the Denny’s near the motel.

An hour later Adam was back in his room, his hunger satisfied and his mind working at full throttle again. He microwaved the coffee that remained in the carafe and added sugar packets he’d picked up from the restaurant. Coffee in one hand, his cell phone in the other, he sat on the edge of his bed and punched in Dave’s number.

What if his brother still didn’t answer? What if he was undercover, or somewhere with no cell reception, or . . . After the fifth ring Adam was about to end the call when he heard, “Branson here.”

“Dave, it’s me.”

“Keith?”

“You mean Adam.”

“Sorry. I may never get the name right as long as you keep changing it.” There was a slight pause. “Where are you? And whose phone are you using? The display on my cell shows private number.”

“I’m at an Econolodge in Creedmore, North Carolina,” Adam said. “Where are you?”

“I’ve been undercover down here along the Rio Grande. Had my cell phone off for a couple of days.” Adam heard a door close. “That should give me a little privacy. Now, what are you doing in North Carolina? Did you change your mind about running away?”

“Actually, just the opposite.” Adam swiveled around to lie back on the bed, propped against the headboard. “I know it sounds crazy, but I need to see Charlie DeLuca.”

“You’re right. It does sound crazy. But why?”

“I want to talk to Charlie face-to-face and try to convince him to call off his shooter.”

“That’s not going to work, Adam.” Dave used the same tone he’d used years before when he gave sage older-brother advice. “And even if he says he’ll do it, what makes you think he’ll keep his word?”

“If that doesn’t work, then I’ve got an offer I’m pretty sure he’ll take.”

“And that is . . . ?”

Adam drained the coffee in his cup, but the lump in his throat didn’t move. “I’ll make him a deal.”

“What can you offer Charlie?”

“His freedom. If he’ll call off whoever’s been targeting Carrie and me, I’ll contact the DA and recant my testimony. Without me, the case falls apart and he walks.”

“That’s insane,” Dave said. “Not only would you be returning a criminal to society, you’d be admitting to perjury. In effect, you’re offering to take Charlie’s place in prison.”

“I know.” Adam thought once more about what was at stake here. “When there was someone trying to kill me, I was willing to take the heat. But Carrie’s in it now. And I’ll do anything to make her safe again . . . and I can’t think of any other way to do it.”

“So that’s why you’re there in . . . whatever the name is.”

“Creedmore. Yes. The Butner Correctional Facility, where Charlie DeLuca’s serving his sentence, is a fifteen-minute drive from where I am now. I need you to use your contacts in law enforcement to get me access to him. Can you do that?”

Dave’s sigh came through loud and clear. “I’m still going to try to talk you out of this, you know. But yeah, give me half an hour to make some phone calls. Give me your number and I’ll call you back.”

It was actually closer to an hour before Dave called again. Adam spent the time pacing the floor, his mind running in circles, trying to take the rough edges off his scheme. His mind threw up objections, then tried to tear them down. At the end of an hour, there were still some holes he might have to patch on the fly.

“Yes?”

Dave sounded almost sad, but then again, that was to be expected, given the circumstances. “I have the information for you.”

“Let me get a pencil.”

“You won’t need it. I think you can remember this,” Dave said. “The good news is that you or anyone else can visit Charlie DeLuca any time. But there’s bad news that goes with it.”

TWELVE

A COUPLE OF US ARE GOING OUT FOR LUNCH TODAY,” LILA SAID from the door of Carrie’s office. “Want to go?”

A polite “No, thanks” was on Carrie’s lips, but she held it back. Since Adam left, she’d lived her life like a hermit. Breakfast at home with the newspaper, lunch spent at her desk reading medical journals while munching on a sandwich one of the nurses brought from the hospital, a frozen dinner defrosted and eaten in front of the TV each evening. This was how she behaved after John died, except that sometimes she forgot completely about eating. Why not get out? “Sure. And I’ll drive.”

There were four of them in the group: Lila, two other clinic nurses, and Carrie. For the first few minutes in the car, Carrie’s presence inhibited conversation somewhat, but before they reached the restaurant they’d chosen—a barbecue place nearby—the group was chatting freely.

The food was good, the company even better, and by the time they’d cleaned all the barbecue sauce off their fingertips and gone through the “I had that so I owe this” division of the bill, Carrie felt as though she’d had a respite from her worries.

As she drove back to the clinic, she looked in the rearview mirror and did a double take. There was a dark blue Ford Crown Victoria behind her. Ordinarily, this wouldn’t have been a cause for concern, but Carrie recalled seeing it following her car on the way to the restaurant. She struggled to recall the maneuvers to confirm if she was being tailed. She sped up. The Ford stayed with her. She slowed down and changed lanes. The Ford did the same. She made random right and left turns until Lila asked, “Dr. Markham, are you okay? Do you want me to drive? This isn’t the way to the clinic.”

Carrie looked back and the Ford was nowhere in sight. Maybe it had just been a coincidence. “Sorry. I was thinking about something else.” Lila gave her a worried look but said nothing.

When the women exited the car in the clinic parking lot, Carrie felt a familiar tingle between her shoulder blades. She huddled in the center of the group as they moved toward the clinic doors and didn’t relax until she was safely inside. Carrie wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand it.

Adam, hurry home. We have to bring this to an end
.

Adam supposed he could drive to Chicago, but there was no need. Charlie DeLuca was there, but he wasn’t going to listen to Adam . . . or anyone else.

Charlie DeLuca was buried in the family plot in one of the
nicer suburbs of metropolitan Chicago. He’d experienced a heart attack while in the Butner Federal Correctional Institution, and that was where DeLuca died before he could be moved elsewhere for treatment.

Adam trusted his brother but still felt he had to confirm the information. He dug out his laptop, logged on to the free WiFi the motel offered, and after a few minutes found a tiny obituary from one of the Chicago newspapers. Yes, Charlie DeLuca was dead.

Why hadn’t Adam done such a computer search long ago? Why had he just learned the news now? After a moment’s thought Adam recognized the reason: from the moment the jury returned a guilty verdict, he’d worked to put Charlie DeLuca out of his mind. The man had been given a sentence that should have guaranteed he’d die in prison, and that was exactly what he’d done.

Adam should have felt relief, but instead the news raised another problem for him to solve. If DeLuca’s death occurred several months earlier, why was someone still trying to kill Adam? It made no sense. But the persistent attempts told him one thing—he had to stop the killer another way. And that sent him to a totally different plan, one that left him with mixed emotions at best.

In a few minutes Adam was packed and ready to leave. The desk clerk surprised him by deleting the charge for a second day. “You just missed check-out time by a couple of hours. The maids are still working, and we’ll have that room rented by sundown.”

He smiled at the unexpected gesture. “Thanks. If I’m back in North Carolina, I’ll stay with you again.”

As he headed west, back to Jameson, Adam began work on a new plan. This one might not work either, but it was the best he could do. It would require one slight side trip on his journey, but the timing seemed right. And the thought of what he’d do there caused his pulse to quicken. On the one hand, what he was about to do frightened him. On the other, if this worked, both Adam and Carrie might be out from under the shadow of his would-be killer once and for all. Then again, if his plan misfired, he could end up in prison.