Doubt (Caroline Auden Book 1) (27 page)

Caroline looked at the scientist with compassion. “And you got pregnant.”

“Yes. Around the time I found out, I’d been thinking about doing a research project in Ghana. The pregnancy clinched it. I went to West Africa for three weeks. When I came back, I talked about the wild fling I’d had with a local Red Cross volunteer. Then, a month later, I announced I was pregnant. Franklin knew it was his, of course, but Yvonne accepted my story. They celebrated Nolan’s birth, came to his birthdays—all that kind of stuff.”

“But he ended it,” Caroline said.

“No. I did. Two years ago, I told him I wanted to stop hiding. I wanted to live with him. Out in the open. No shame. No secrets. I wanted Nolan to know him as his father. But Franklin said he couldn’t.” Her voice held a touch of bitterness. “The reasons were all very sensible. He was too committed to Yvonne. Or to his marriage vows . . . or whatever.”

“So you ended it.”

Annie nodded. “I told him we needed to stop. I said I needed to move on. After that, things were awkward between us for a while. But then we kind of settled back into a rhythm. We just pretended we hadn’t . . . didn’t . . . love each other.”

Caroline watched Annie’s face shift at the admission. Instead of bitterness and anger, the scientist’s eyes held infinite sadness.

“Even after I broke it off, he let me keep the house.” Annie sighed. “I loved that house.”

“But you sold it last year.”

“Franklin asked me to,” Annie said, the bitterness reentering her tone. “Six months ago, he told me he was thinking about leaving his wife. When he called me, though . . . it was like my whole world just . . . shifted. I’m embarrassed to admit I was ready to go back to him. I was going to break things off with Henrik. Just like that.”

Caroline recalled the confusion and frustration on the artist’s face at Annie’s behavior. Henrik must have suspected it had something to do with Franklin.

“Franklin told me after I sold the house, we’d move in together,” Annie said. “He said he was done running from love, from the life he wanted. He wanted to live for the moment.”

“But it didn’t happen,” Caroline said.

“No. It didn’t. After escrow closed, he invited me out to dinner. I thought he was going to say he’d told Yvonne about me. But instead, he told me he’d decided to stay with her. He said he just couldn’t end the marriage. He told me he hoped he’d see me on Monday at work.” Annie’s face flushed at the remembered humiliation and disappointment.

“Actually, Franklin’s medical group owned your house,” Caroline said. “Yvonne was winding up the group and liquidating its assets. Franklin might have worried that she was going to find out the medical group owned a house in Santa Monica . . .”

Annie laughed a mirthless laugh. “That would have been hard to explain. I guess after the sale, he could make up some lame excuse about why his medical group used to own a house in Santa Monica. He could tell Yvonne some bullshit story about how he’d let celebrity clients convalesce there or something.”

The expression on Annie’s face hardened into downward angles. “For such a good person, he was always so full of lies . . .”

“And you got mad,” Caroline finished for her. “Mad enough that when the agents of Med-Gen showed up, you talked to them.”

Annie stayed silent.

“You wiped the computer and ran,” Caroline said, careful to keep any judgment out of her voice.

“I didn’t wipe the computer,” Annie said. “I’d never destroy that article. In fact, I’d still like to see it published . . . someday. If we could submit it to the
Fielding Journal
, I’m sure they’d still want it.”

Caroline considered the new information.

“I admit I got angry with Franklin when he told me he wasn’t going to leave Yvonne,” Annie continued. “After the shock and embarrassment wore off a bit, I was just so fed up with him. It made me stop . . . protecting him.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’d always shielded Franklin from Med-Gen’s annoying phone calls. They called us all the time. Offering to take us to lunch. Asking to hear about our other research projects that they might fund. I always got stuck dealing with those calls. Old habit, I guess. Franklin was the senior scientist, and shit flows downhill. Or maybe I just liked taking care of him . . .” Annie shook her head. “Whatever the reason, after the whole thing with my house and Yvonne and the rest of it, I was done protecting his peace.”

A haunted expression crossed Annie’s fine features. “The day he died, I’d answered yet another of those calls from Med-Gen. They wanted to talk to both of us. I told them they should just talk to Franklin when he got back from his jog . . .”

Annie paused. “I keep thinking that’s how they found him that day . . . They said they just wanted to talk to him. I didn’t know they’d . . . they’d . . . kill him.” She choked out the last words in a whisper. Her face screwed up into a mask of grief, her dark eyes quietly stricken.

“Oh my God, I killed him,” Annie whispered.

“You didn’t kill him,” Caroline said, resisting the urge to hug this brittle stranger grieving in the vegetable aisle. “You couldn’t have known. No one could blame you for not knowing.”

Annie gathered her composure. “After Franklin died, they came for me. I might have been braver on my own . . . maybe. But I couldn’t risk Nolan. I promised them I’d just disappear. I told them I’d hidden a copy of the article and that if I died, it would be released . . . I think that was what ultimately convinced them to leave us alone.”

Annie looked furtively around the empty market, the motion so practiced and instinctual that Caroline felt a sudden wave of compassion. The scientist had been on the run so long. Grieving and shell-shocked, she’d done what almost anyone would have done. To protect herself. To protect her son.

But what about Franklin? What machinations had he set into motion before he died? What plans had he made? Caroline had once believed that Franklin’s note to Yvonne was an apology for getting killed—for doing what he loved, at the ultimate price. But that wasn’t it. Franklin had snubbed Annie at the same time he was about to publish an article that would end Med-Gen’s profits. He hadn’t planned the timing. It had been thrust upon him. It was a perfect storm of danger for him.

But Franklin, like Louis, was a chess player. He knew that checkmate was coming. If Med-Gen got desperate and sent its minions to contact Annie, he was vulnerable. He knew if he died, the truth would come out—Yvonne would find out about the Santa Monica house and the affair and Nolan. He was apologizing for that, as much as for everything else. But Franklin had one last chess move to make. A move that was dependent on the woman he’d snubbed. Annie was the final piece on the board. And now she needed to play.

“Come with me to New York,” Caroline said. “Come testify. Stop hiding and end this.”

“But they got Franklin.” Annie shook her head, her eyes wild. “I don’t care about myself, but I can’t leave Nolan without a mother. That’s all that matters. I have to focus on my son. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is.”

“You aren’t safe here, Annie,” Caroline said. “The way I tracked you down—someone else could find you like that, too. But you could come with me to New York and end this—”

“I can’t. I’ve got to go.” Annie’s eyes filled with the same sudden panic Caroline had witnessed before. She knew the reason. Annie’s insurance policy had been telling the fixers that she’d hidden a copy of the article. Now her insurance policy was gone.

“That article was the best thing you ever did with your career,” Caroline said, trying to head off the scientist’s flight instinct. “Publishing it to save lives is what you wanted. It’s why you wrote it. It’s the reason you couldn’t destroy it.”

When Annie didn’t disagree, Caroline continued, “Everything comes down to this moment. That trial is happening right now. You can’t sit on the sidelines. Only you can prevent the deaths of thousands of people.”

Annie stayed silent.

“You’ve got to come with me,” Caroline said. “Please, let me take you to New York.”

Annie nodded, but the motion was so slight that Caroline almost missed it.

Caroline zipped up her suitcase then straightened up, mentally saying good-bye to the motel room. A room that was so much different than the last hotel room she’d occupied. With Eddie. Suddenly wishing for his presence, she consoled herself that she’d see him soon in New York. Once she got Annie Wong to New York . . .

Through the window, the sky glowed orange with the sunset. As soon as the sun finished with the business of disappearing beyond the far curve of the planet, Caroline would pick up Annie and her son, drive to San Francisco, and fly to New York. A daunting task, but doable. If all went well, she’d still make it to New York a full day before the hearing. The pessimistic part of her mind hoped that Annie hadn’t sent her off to her motel just to give herself time to grab Nolan and drive for the Canadian border.

She’d find out soon enough.

She stepped forward to grab her suitcase. Time to go see if Annie Wong was really going to come with her.

But then Caroline’s phone buzzed with an incoming text.

She dug the phone out of her bag.

The message had no sender. That meant it had come through a proxy server.

Caroline’s stomach twisted in concern. This couldn’t be good.

She opened it.

Your uncle is in Northridge Hospital in a compromised state. He will be released and dumped on the streets of Los Angeles tomorrow morning. You might want to come home.

An electric bolt of fear lanced through her chest.

With her heart pounding in her ears, Caroline dialed her uncle’s phone number.

No one answered.

She tried her mother’s number.

Joanne’s voice mail message promised a prompt response . . . as soon as she returned from her camping trip.

Forcing herself to keep breathing, Caroline pulled up the phone number for Northridge Hospital. When the receptionist answered, she asked for the charge nurse of the emergency room. A woman’s weary voice answered, and Caroline started straight in.

“I’m calling for a patient, Daniel Hitchings. I’ve been led to believe he’s there. He’s my uncle.”

The line went silent while the charge nurse checked her computer. Then the weary voice came back. “Yes, he’s in room 3217. They’re readying him for discharge tomorrow morning.”

“Can I talk to him?”

“I’m afraid not. Mr. Hitchings isn’t fully lucid.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I’m sorry, but privacy regulations prevent me from giving you that information.”

“Who’s he being discharged to? That’s not a medical question.”

“He’ll be going home with the gentleman with the affidavit stating that he’s the home-care nurse your mother set up for him. The gentleman is here now, in the waiting room, actually. We told him that we couldn’t discharge Mr. Hitchings until we finish processing the paperwork, but he said he’d wait.”

“You can’t release my uncle to him,” Caroline said. “He isn’t really a home-care nurse.”

“He’s got credentials showing he works for Hugo Home Care,” the nurse said. “He brought written instructions from your mother. Perhaps you should discuss this with her.”

“My mom’s camping in Oregon. She isn’t reachable. She didn’t arrange this.” Caroline heard her tone grow frantic. She took a breath. “What does the guy look like?” she asked, trying to keep the nurse on the line.

“Tall guy. Green scrubs,” said the nurse. “He’s got a big red birthmark next to his mouth. Kind of looks like a turtle on its back.”

Caroline’s blood froze in her veins. It sounded like the man from the airport shuttle.

“Do you hold your uncle’s power of attorney?” the nurse asked.

“No,” Caroline said.

“Then you can’t stop the discharge.”

“But they’re going to dump him on the street!” Caroline shouted. She took another breath and ordered herself to calm. “What can I do to stop this discharge?”

“We’d need a doctor’s order from someone on staff,” said the nurse.

In the background, Caroline heard an alarm buzzing at the nursing station.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’ve got to go,” the nurse said.

The line clicked off, and suddenly Caroline sat alone in a Mendocino motel room.

Caroline paced from the chipped enamel dresser to the yellowing posters of Mendocino on the opposite end of the room. But she saw none of it. Her mind spiraled into a tornado of second guesses and doubts. How could she have left her uncle alone?

She grabbed her phone and dialed 911.

“Nine-one-one, what is the nature of your emergency?” the dispatcher’s voice asked.

“There’s a man down at the hospital trying to get them to release my gravely debilitated uncle to him so he can dump him,” Caroline said. “I need someone to stop it from happening.”

“Please start from the beginning, ma’am. Where are you calling from?”

“Mendocino, but my uncle’s in Los Angeles and I—”

“You’re in Mendocino, but you need to prevent a discharge of a patient in Los Angeles?” The dispatcher’s voice held a note of disbelief.

“Yes,” Caroline said, her eyes raking across the digital clock on the bedside table. She didn’t have time to debate the dispatcher. She needed action. Now. “The hospital thinks my mom authorized the discharge, but she didn’t.”