Authors: Daniel Palmer
Julie made a tsk sound and grimaced. “I can’t believe I let Dr. Coffey take those printouts,” she said. “He had me so rattled.”
“No worries. We can get it later.”
“Maybe getting you rattled was his intention.” Michelle tossed this out in a very matter-of-fact way.
It struck a chord with Julie. She took a long drink of tea and gave it some thought. “You think Coffey’s covering something up?”
“I’m just saying his behavior sounds odd to me. But I’m not a doctor.”
“You’re married to one,” Julie said. “That counts.”
Michelle gave a laugh. “I suppose there’s an osmosis factor I can claim. So I stand by my statement. Not only was Coffey being a jerk, he was being an odd jerk.”
“But why?”
“You said it yourself. He’s protecting his reputation.”
“And an innocent man goes to jail for it?” Julie looked dubious.
“The morphine,” Lucy reminded them.
“Hmmm … hard to explain away, isn’t it?” Michelle said. “So where do you go from here?”
Julie shook her head. “Honestly, I’m not sure. Dr. Coffey made another good point. What could have produced such a scare or sudden stress event that it caused two rare heart-stunning conditions?”
“Fatal stunning at that, which makes it even more unusual,” Lucy said. “It wasn’t like Donald and Sam got a lot of varied experiences in their days.”
Before anyone could answer, Julie spotted someone in line at the cafeteria—someone she had never met before, but wished to speak with urgently.
“Excuse me for a moment,” Julie said, getting up from the table. “I’ll be right back.”
Julie caught up with the willowy blonde as she was refilling a cup of coffee. Her tray held an apple and a blueberry Greek yogurt. Big meals in the cafeteria were a rarity—nobody had much time to eat.
Julie would not even have known about this woman had it not been for Brandon Stahl. After the prison meeting, Julie did some Googling and even a stint on the corporate intranet. She wanted to know more about Sherri Platt, the young nurse who essentially put Brandon Stahl away for life. According to her bio, Sherri had left her career in long-term acute care to work as an oncology staff nurse at White. It was a fairly significant career change, but jumping jobs in nursing was a common practice.
Julie gave the woman a tap on the shoulder. Sherri turned and tried to place the face.
“Sherri Platt?”
Julie had planned to ask Sherri some probing questions, at some indefinite point in the future. But the moment had found her, and Julie saw no reason to delay.
As Julie introduced herself, Sherri’s expression changed. It appeared that she recognized Julie, perhaps because of Sam’s accident.
“Dr. Devereux. What can I do for you?”
“I’d like a few minutes of your time, if possible.”
Sherri checked her phone, the watch of the new millennium. Julie guessed Sherri’s age to be about thirty, which meant she’d been in her late twenties during the Brandon Stahl trial. No ring on her finger, though she had a gold cross pendant hanging from a thin gold chain around her neck.
“I have to be back on the floor in fifteen minutes.”
“No worries,” Julie said. “This won’t take long.”
They found seats at an empty table and Julie exchanged a glance with Lucy, one she hoped conveyed that an explanation would be forthcoming.
“So what’s up?” Sherri sounded genuinely intrigued and her blue eyes flickered with curiosity. She was a pretty girl, Julie thought, and she acted receptive, though beneath the surface something about her was off-putting, a noticeable detachment. Sherri radiated cold, like a gray morning in fall.
“I want to talk to you about Brandon Stahl.”
In a flicker, Sherri’s body language shifted from open to closed. She stiffened as she slid her chair back, and then folded her arms tightly across her chest, her hands clenched in fists. She broke eye contact, tilted her head down, and fixed her gaze to the floor.
“What about?”
“I went to see him in prison.”
“Why would you do that?” Sherri’s voice was soft, but with an edge.
Julie couldn’t tell whether it was bad memories or something else making her so uncomfortable.
“I’m trying to figure out if there’s a connection between his case and my fiancé’s death. He died here a few weeks back.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry for your loss.” Sherri did not sound sorry. She sounded as if she wanted to be anyplace other than here.
“I’m wondering if you can tell me a bit more about what you heard Brandon say that day.”
“I already told that to the court.”
“Yes, I know. I was just wondering why you didn’t come forward when he first got arrested.”
Sherri stood. “I’ve got to go. I’m going to be late.”
Julie stood as well. “I’ll walk you.”
Sherri looked as if nothing could please her less.
“Look, that was a really horrible time for me. I don’t feel like reliving it right before my shift.”
“Why? Were you close to Donald Colchester?”
“No.”
Sherri was moving now, at a quick pace too, and Julie followed. Passing the table where Lucy and Michelle sat, Julie held up a hand to let her friends know she would be right back. She hurried her steps to catch up with Sherri.
“Can you tell me why you waited to come forward?”
Sherri stopped walking, turned, and fixed Julie with fierce eyes. She jerked her head back as if needing space. Maybe she needed more air, too, because her breathing turned heavy, while her body went perfectly still. Sherri took her hand away from her mouth to speak.
“Because he was going to get off and I had to do something,” she said in a shallow voice. “I had to do something or else he’d go free. So I told the judge what I had heard. I was coming down the hall pushing a cart of medicine and I happened to overhear a conversation between Donald Colchester and Brandon Stahl. It sounded private, and I didn’t want to rush in and intrude, so I waited outside the door. That’s when I heard Donald say that he wanted Brandon to help kill him, and Brandon saying he understood Donald’s pain and that he’d be willing to inject Donald with morphine. Brandon said, ‘You won’t feel a thing. You’ll just go to sleep like you want.’ I didn’t know what to do. So I left and gave Donald his medicine later. That’s the truth.”
Sherri shuffled her feet during much of her monologue, after which she fixed Julie with an unblinking stare.
“Okay,” Julie said. “I’m sorry to have upset you. For all those weeks the evidence against Brandon Stahl was in question, and here you were sitting on a powder keg. That must have been difficult for you.”
“What’s difficult for me is you bringing this up now.” Sherri pointed at Julie in an accusatory way. “Ambushing me like this. I don’t appreciate it at all. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to walk alone.”
Sherri spun on her heels and took off at a good clip. Julie watched her go. She was not a trained psychologist, had never studied body language. But Julie had raised a son almost into his teenage years. One thing experience had taught her was how to detect a lie when she heard one.
Lincoln Cole heard every word. Every single thing Sherri and Julie had just discussed. Julie’s phone calls were not the only thing he could eavesdrop on. The TrueSpy software installed on Julie’s phone converted the microphone into a sound transmitter. Without her knowing, Julie’s conversations were being transmitted to a wireless receiver disguised as a hearing aid in Lincoln’s right ear. He had bought the receiver for three hundred bucks on an online shopping portal specializing in that sort of gear.
Based on what he had heard, Lincoln knew his employer would want a full report. He would prepare it from his van. In a few hours, Julie would be done for the day and would then head for home. TrueSpy also gave Lincoln access to Julie’s calendar. One device used for multiple purposes made Lincoln’s job that much easier.
Lincoln had been loitering in the hallway outside the cafeteria, in full view of the two women he was spying on. He wore street clothes and was not worried Julie might spot him. She had not noticed when he followed her to the Barstow Building for her meeting with Dr. Coffey. He knew Sherri Platt, though. He knew Sherri very well, but she was too flummoxed to make the connection.
Dr. Julie was not Lincoln’s first job for this employer. A few years back, Lincoln Cole had accepted a decent sum to bribe Sherri into making false statements about Brandon Stahl. It did not take much of a bribe, either; not that this was a surprise. As a cop Lincoln had seen plenty of illicit payments offered for dirty deeds done dirt cheap, as the band AC/DC put it. The hard rockers from down under really were on to something there.
Lincoln knew a number of dimwits who thought they were talking to a paid killer, not undercover police. They wanted spouses gone, lovers gone, ex-wives or husbands gone, and offered paltry sums to get the job done. They proposed five thousand, ten, and on rare occasions twenty large. People paid more for decking than they did for murder.
Lincoln kept his employer a secret, but Sherri guessed that he worked for the Colchester family. Of course, Lincoln would neither confirm nor deny her suspicion. Sherri had no idea she was picked for a reason. She had strong religious beliefs, worked on the same floor as the ailing Donald Colchester, and had a shift at the same time Brandon was caught on that recording.
Lincoln had paid a visit to Sherri’s small house in Melrose, where she lived alone, and played her a copy of the recording the judge had disallowed. His instincts had been right. Hearing Brandon’s offer to kill Donald Colchester did inspire her cooperation.
“This isn’t some frame job,” Lincoln had explained. “Brandon is a legitimate killer, and he’s going to get away with murder unless you help us.”
Lincoln described the problem as a technicality in the law. If Sherri wanted to see justice done, they would need her help. Sherri wanted to see justice done, all right. Fifteen thousand dollars helped her along. A cash payment was made promptly, and thanks to her testimony, Brandon Stahl was put away for life.
What Lincoln had just heard in that tense conversation between Sherri and Julie troubled him a great deal. Sherri’s personality had another aspect that might play against them: Catholic guilt. Sherri Platt did what she did for reasons other than a moral and religious imperative, and this left her vulnerable to suggestion. Judging by body language alone, Lincoln did not think it would take much poking for Miss Platt to crack like thin ice.
Back in his van, Lincoln phoned his employer and told him of the conversation he had overheard.
“Can you do surveillance on Sherri Platt?”
“I could bug her apartment,” Lincoln said. “But it’ll detract from the surveillance work on Dr. Julie.”
The silence that followed lasted several seconds.
“No. It’s an issue only if she goes back to Devereux. Keep your eyes and ears open, though.”
“Dr. Julie is not going to stop.”
“How do you know?”
“Gut feeling, I guess. She’s like a dog, that one. Latches on and won’t let go. The conversation with Sherri didn’t help matters any.”
“Does Devereux know Sherri’s lying?”
“Sherri isn’t too good at the conceal game, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“What do you suggest?”
“If you want to give me a bump in pay, I can give Dr. Julie a good hard shove. A friend of mine doesn’t appreciate her efforts to free his son’s killer, if you get my meaning.”
Another beat of silence.
“A bump it is. I’ll leave the rest to your discretion.”
“And if Sherri Platt suddenly sprouts a conscience?”
“There’s plenty of money to take care of Miss Platt if it comes to that.”
Yeah,
Lincoln thought as he pictured the sun-drenched beach and the oiled-up women lying next to him.
And it’ll cost a lot more than fifteen grand, too.
* * *
The day after her odd meeting with Sherri Platt, Julie saw Trevor off to school and then drove her Prius down the Jacob’s Ladder Scenic Byway all the way to the town of Russell.
She had the day off, and knew exactly what she was going to do with it seconds after the schedule got posted. When the Westfield River came into view, Julie parked her car in the same scenic pullout where she and Sam had stopped on the day of his accident. It was Thursday, November the tenth, and Julie carried with her a bouquet of flowers. She wanted something to toss into the river to honor Sam’s birthday.
She had spoken by phone with Sam’s parents earlier. It was a pleasant enough conversation, but Julie knew that with time, communication between them would happen less frequently, until it stopped altogether. Death had pulled her out of Sam’s orbit, and the lives connected to him were no longer tethered to her.
On the drive west, Julie could not help noticing all the drivers distracted by their damn cell phones. Some drivers were gabbing with one hand on the wheel and the other on the phone. A few she saw texting, and she swore one was watching a video and laughing. What could be so important? Her mind flashed back to the Civic veering erratically from one side of the road to the other. All it took was a fraction of a second to shatter so many lives.
Julie knew very little about the driver who took away Sam’s mobility and perhaps hastened his death. He was a twentysomething who had escaped grievous injury, but whose bright future would forever be clouded by a shadow of guilt. At least, she hoped he felt guilt.
A harsh wind blew in from the east and sent strands of Julie’s hair whipping against her face. Streaks of sunlight struggled to penetrate a thin layer of clouds stretched across a slate-gray sky. She had on one of Sam’s leather jackets, a pair of jeans, and a warm sweater, but could still feel a chill against her skin. Julie brushed the hair off her face as she climbed over the guardrail separating the pullout from the drop down to the river. It was a bit harrowing descending the steep pitch, but Julie made it to the riverbank without tumbling.
Movement overhead drew Julie’s gaze skyward. She looked just in time to see a flock of birds—sparrows, she thought—circling. The tiny black dots moved as one and they appeared to be engaged in a dance of sorts, swooping and twirling, the shape always changing, but never seeming disorganized. The changes in direction happened startlingly fast and Julie was amazed the birds could hold their formation at such speed. As quick as they appeared, those birds were gone. Julie felt relieved. They were magical to watch, but seemed strangely ominous to her, like a black cloud swirling above her head.