Fractured Eden (16 page)

                                         
Chapter 27

Brad Benningham woke up to a noise and glanced at his alarm clock. It was 1:50 a.m. early Tuesday morning.

He crept to his bedroom door, peeked out, and saw Preston tiptoeing away down the hall. Brad threw on clothes and shoes and raced to the front door, in time to see Preston step into his car and start the engine. Brad’s figure filled the doorway, and his lips were taut across his mouth as he spoke, “Tonight, I cut off the head of the snake.”

He closed the door, and after a few seconds, the garage door opened. Brad backed his truck out of the garage and sped away after Preston’s taillights.

Preston’s car weaved down the road for several miles and screeched through a few turns, before it slowed near a dark alley in town. Preston pulled into the alley and stepped out of his car.

Brad’s truck bounced to a stop behind Preston’s car, the truck’s headlights illuminating the alley. Brad spotted a figure standing against a wall in the shadows.

Preston turned and his eyes widened. “Crap.”

“What the hell?” the man in the shadows said. He pulled a handgun from a pocket.

Brad leaped from his truck and then stopped in his tracks. Queasiness seized his stomach.
This is the same alley I was in two years ago
.

He shook his head and ran toward Preston. “Get down, now,” Brad yelled.

“What are you doing here?” Preston said, his hands clenched.

Brad fired three rounds from his handgun at the figure running away down the alley. From the shallow cover of a recessed doorway, the man began to shoot at anything that moved or stood upright. Brad crouched behind a trash bin.

Preston screamed as blood sprayed from his left shoulder.

“Get down, Preston,” Brad said.

Another person ran out of the far side shadows of the alley, yelling and flailing his arms. He stopped and kneeled down in front of Preston, who was on his knees and moaning. As he put his hands on Preston’s shoulders, several bullets struck his back. His body arched twice and collapsed onto the pavement.

“No,” Preston said. “No.”

Brad walked past Preston and the supine figure, firing into the doorway ahead of him. A man fell out of the doorway, his handgun clattering away along the pavement. Brad crept up to him with his gun pointed. Detecting no movement, Brad kicked his side, rolled him over, and saw that he wasn’t breathing. He picked up the man’s gun.

Brad jogged back toward Preston, who was wailing and rocking back and forth while holding the arm of a limp body on the ground. A moist hole had appeared in the shirt over Preston’s left shoulder.

“You’ve been shot,” Brad said.

Preston moaned and continued rocking.

Brad looked at the face of the limp figure. “It’s Rocky Donnigan. The bastard got him.” He crouched down beside the body. “He’s not breathing. I’ll call the ambulance, but it may be too late.” He called 911 and started CPR with chest compressions.

“That should’ve been me,” Preston said between sobs. “That should’ve been me.”

An ambulance arrived, and the paramedics swept Rocky up onto a gurney. They continued CPR in the back of the ambulance.

As he was bandaging Preston’s shoulder, one of the medical personnel turned to Brad. “I think he needs to be checked out at the hospital.”

“Yes, I’ll take him,” Brad said.

Just after the ambulance screamed away, a police car pulled up behind Brad’s truck.

Brad held pressure with his hand over Preston’s bandaged shoulder. “What was Rocky even doing here? He liked his alcohol, but I didn’t think he used drugs any more,” he said.

Preston managed to speak a few words at a time. “He knows the dealers . . . I guess he was worried . . . about me.”

“I’ve got to get you to a hospital.”

Preston crumpled to the ground and wailed. “I should be dead. I don’t deserve to be alive.”

Brad gave a short report to the police officer, and then he helped Preston into his truck and drove him to the hospital.

                                         
Chapter 28

Aaron awakened every few hours that night. At one point, he rubbed his eyes and stumbled to the bathroom. He stood in front of the mirror and ran his fingers along the deep scar that deformed his jaw.

Maybe a plastic surgeon can make this look better.

At the clinic registration desk the next morning, Stella dabbed her eyes with tissue.

“What’s wrong?” Aaron said.

“Rocky Donnigan died last night.”

“Rocky is dead?”

“He was shot. He jumped in front of Preston.”

Aaron stared out the window, then he walked back to his office and closed the door.

An hour later, Stella knocked on his door. “Sorry to bother you, but your first patient is here. Do you want me to reschedule today’s list?”

“No. Give me a few more minutes.”

“No problem.”

After a while, he sighed.
Is there anything I could’ve done to prevent Rocky’s death?
He slapped the desk.
Back at my old hospital, someone questioned my medical competence.
He stood and shook his head.
Will this nag at me until I die?

Near noon, Stella brought Aaron a report that had been faxed from the testing lab. Aaron read the results: the powder from the Taggett’s house was thallium sulfate.

He shot out of his desk chair and hopped up and down with his hands in the air. “I got something right.”

Stella stepped back. “What in the world are you shouting about?”

“Sorry about that. I just guessed correctly this time, and I’m all in now.”

“Okay, good. You guessed right. What’s thallium?” Stella said.

“It’s a poisonous chemical used to kill rodents, and sometimes people.”

“Wait a minute. What do you mean ‘you’re all in’?”

Aaron pounded his fist into his hand. “I’m into doing some good in this town. That’s what I’m here for.”

He called Constable Greevy. “I have my proof that Wanda Taggett is poisoning Sid. She’s feeding him thallium, and he’s dying. She’s slowly killing him.”

“How did you find that out?”

“I removed some powder from their home.”

“Okay. Wanda didn’t give it to you. So, you must’ve broken into the house when Wanda wasn’t there. Am I wrong?”

“She wasn’t at home, but Sid let me in. Anyway, we’ve got to figure out what’s going on in that house. Maybe I can get him back to the hospital. I’ll bet we’ll find thallium in his blood and urine.”

Keller sighed. “All right. Try to get him to the hospital, but now I’ve got my own reason for a search warrant.” Keller told Aaron about his encounter with Race Taggett.

Several hours later, Stella motioned to Aaron. “Keller Greevy would like to talk to you on the phone. Do you have time?”

“Sure.” Aaron walked to his office and picked up the receiver.

       “I got a warrant,” Keller said. “I’m going to visit the Taggetts. You can come along and get Sid to the treatment he needs.”

Constable Greevy and two other officers stopped by the clinic late that afternoon, and Aaron followed the police car to the Taggett’s house.

They stepped out of their cars and walked toward the house. Aaron noticed Keller’s bandage. “Is that where Race’s knife cut you?”

“You got it. Maybe you can take a look at it later?”

“I’d be happy to.”

“Any more threatening notes from your machete guy?”

“No.”

“We’re still looking for him.”

As they walked through the straggly front yard, Aaron sighed. “It’s sad about Rocky Donnigan.”

“Yeah, it is.” Keller looked down. “I guess he had some good in him after all, didn’t he?”

They climbed the front steps, and the wooden slats creaked under their feet as they crossed the porch to the door.

“Wanda’s car is out front, so she’s got to be home,” Keller said.

“Has Race been found?” Aaron said.

“Not yet.”

A shiver shot through Aaron’s chest.

Keller punched the front doorbell and then pounded on the door. After a few minutes, the door squeaked open a crack.

Keller held up his search warrant. “You’ve got to let me in, Wanda.”

“No.”

“I’ll break the door down. Let me in, now.”

After a minute, the door opened wide. “Why are you here?”

“I need to search your house. Race assaulted my wife, and we’re looking for him. Is he here?”

“No. I haven’t seen him.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“No. So, you can leave now.”

“I want to talk with Sid.”

She raised her voice. “You leave him alone.”

Keller and his protuberant potbelly pushed sideways past Wanda, his hand poised on his holster. He was followed by the other two officers.

Keller shouted back at Aaron, “The coast is clear. Come on in.”

Aaron stepped through the door.
It smells like she’s used a room deodorizer.
He stopped and looked around the room.
I wonder if Wanda had new plans for Sid.

Keller and Aaron walked up to Sid’s bed. He was asleep and taking deep, regular breaths. Wanda walked to the other side of the bed, her arms crossed.

She’s not giving in,
Aaron thought.

“Sid,” Keller said as he shook Sid’s shoulders.

Sid opened and closed his eyes, and Keller shook him again.

Aaron looked at Wanda.
She must be sedating him, too, with drugs.

Sid’s eyes opened and he tried to lift his head.

“It’s me, Constable Greevy. The doc and I want to talk to you.”

Keller helped Sid sit up in bed. Sid grabbed his arm. “I’m sick. Take me to the hospital.”

“We will. Where’s Race?”

“Race? I don’t know.” He took several breaths. “I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Stay here a minute. We’ll have a look around.”

With gloved hands, the three officers searched the house room by room. Aaron led Keller to the cabinet with the crumpled box. Keller opened the cabinet door and looked in. There was no sign of the box.

Wanda stood behind them with her hands on her hips.

Aaron turned to her. “Will you unlock the kitchen cabinet?”

“Sure, but I don’t see why.” Wanda went to her purse and pulled out a key chain, then she walked to the cabinet and unlocked it.

She looks smug. She’s not worried
. “Why do you lock it?” Aaron said.

       Wanda spat the words at him. “Because it’s nobody’s business. I want to keep everyone but me away from Sid’s medicines.”

Keller found several small pill bottles labeled as various vitamins and supplements. He placed the bottles into separate baggies.

It looks like she cleaned up the cabinets,
Aaron thought.
Maybe Race came by so she was expecting a visit from us.

“What in tarnation is this?” Keller stood in a room nearby, staring at an object in his hand. It appeared to be a small, black cloth doll with a frown on its face and a pin stuck through its head.

“Looks like a voodoo doll,” one of the officers said.

“Crap.” Keller’s hands flew back, and the doll fell to the floor.

Leaning over it, the officer nodded. “Yep, I’m sure it is. I had an aunt that was into the voodoo religion, and she had dolls like that.”

Wanda snatched up the doll and wagged it at Keller. “I curse you. I curse you.”

Keller shook his head and walked away. 

After thirty minutes or so, the officers packed their baggies and a few other impounded articles into a briefcase.

Aaron stood at Sid’s bed, holding up a cloth pouch he’d pulled out from under Sid’s pillow. He turned to Wanda. “What’s this?”

Wanda grabbed it from him. “It’s my gris-gris. Don’t ever touch it again.”

Keller stared at the pouch. “So that’s what a gris-gris is. I’ve heard they’re used in voodoo, for good or bad.”

She held the pouch close to Keller’s face. “Like I said, you’ve been cursed.”

Keller snorted and stepped back. “Sure, whatever you say.”

He looked at Aaron. “Do you want to check Sid into the hospital?”

“Yes,” Aaron said.

Wanda held up her hands. “Wait a minute. You can’t just take him from me. I know my rights.”

“This man is sick. He needs a hospital checkup,” Keller said.

“He’s already been there, several times. They can’t help him.”

“Doc here has some other ideas. Do you want me to call an ambulance, or will you go along in a car?”

Wanda didn’t answer, and Keller looked at Aaron.

“He can go by car. I can take him,” Aaron said as he made a phone call to a hospitalist at a nearby hospital to arrange for inpatient admission.

Keller turned to Wanda. “I’m done in here for now. We’re going to search around outside the house. I expect you’ll be going along with Sid.”

“I’ll follow him to the hospital. Then I have to find my son.”

“So, you do know where he is.”

“No, I told you no.”

Keller shook his finger at her. “You’d better let me know if you find him.”

Wanda packed a bag for Sid, and then she and Aaron supported Sid as he stumbled to Aaron’s car.

“They’ll do a lot of tests, and they still won’t know what’s wrong,” Wanda said.

After Sid was situated in the car, Aaron looked at Wanda. “You’ve had a lot of stress on you lately. I think you need to see a doctor—a psychiatrist—to help you deal with your stress.”

Wanda glared at him. “There’s nothing wrong with me.” She stormed away to her car.

Aaron drove away to the hospital with Sid lying down in the back seat and Wanda following in her car.

Aaron brought a wheelchair to the car and pushed Sid through the hospital entrance doors and then checked him into an inpatient room. Wanda stood in the room with Aaron and the nurse until Sid was resting comfortably in bed. He fell asleep after a few minutes. Wanda flung her hands at Aaron and stomped out of the room.

“What’s wrong with her?” the nurse said to Aaron.

“She’s having a bad day.”

       The nurse nodded and looked up as the hospitalist walked in and introduced himself to Aaron. He then stepped to the bedside and studied Sid. “This man is emaciated, like you told me.”

He turned to Aaron. “I’ve reviewed his recent hospital records. There may be something we’re missing. You said you had some ideas?”

“Check for thallium,” Aaron said.

“Thallium? That’s used sometimes as a poison.”

“That’s what I’m worried about. We found thallium powder at the house, and his wife may’ve been feeding it to him.”

“Interesting. I’ve never seen a case of thallium poisoning. I’ll research it.”

Aaron stepped to the bedside and pointed. “See how he’s lost his eyelashes and lateral eyebrows?”

“You’re right.”

“That’s one sign of thallium poisoning.”

Soon after Aaron left, the hospitalist started treatment for a presumptive diagnosis of thallium toxicity.