Authors: Elizabeth Lowe
The
elevator doors of the hospital slowly creaking open divulged a solitary
inhabitant.
For long moments, a group
waiting to enter anticipated the man's exit before someone in the gathering
felt compelled to ask, “Are you getting off, sir?”
Peering
straight forward, as if they were invisible, like a robot Brad sifted between
them into the lobby silently repeating the questions he had asked himself
repeatedly. Why haven't the police been able to locate Ted?
None of his belongings was missing from the
apartment other than the clothes he was wearing the day of his disappearance.
His had not moved his car or summoned a limo.
Thoroughly interrogated everyone was who saw him the day of Sam's
assault.
Walter
testified Ted was the only one who took the elevator to the penthouse that
day.
Lingering only a short time, upon
returning to the elevator he appeared upset, his eyes puffy as if he had been
crying.
If Ted had assaulted Sam, why did he use the
elevator and not the secret passageway to the emergency stairway?
Was Ted in shock?
Walter saw no signs of blood on his
clothing.
The only fingerprints found in
the apartment belonged to Sam and Ted.
Two to three hours had elapsed before Sam summoned help, enough time to
allow the suspect to escape.
In
their attempts to locate Ted the police searched Brad's property in Southampton
where they uncovered no conclusive evidence Ted had been present.
The conventional tire tracks from either a
truck or van found off the road near Brad's house, irrelevant.
Heavy traffic was common in that area, anyone
could have parked there for any number of reasons.
In
the middle of the hospital parking lot, Brad stopped abruptly as he thought
again about the secret passageway.
What
if someone found out it existed, but how?
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Crawling
through a narrow dark tunnel Sam focused on the blinking lights ahead with what
little remained of her diminishing strength.
Air gushing into her lungs stretching them to capacity forced her eyes
open.
She saw terror in the green eyes
of the stranger straddling her.
Time was
running out, she had to survive long enough to explain
what happened, Dear God, she had to.
When
the green garbed alien hovering above her ceased his pounding his efforts left
another part of her body hurting unbearably.
Grabbing strength from out of nowhere, she put aside the pain,
everything except the broken heart crumbling into pieces with each of Brad’s
retreating steps.
They were wrong
sending him away, for blaming him.
They
had made him a punching bag far too long.
Brad
had finally come for her.
He‘d
expressed his love.
She had to live long
enough to tell him how desperately she loved him.
How she had always loved him.
She knew now Brad would keep all the
promises whispered in her ear, promises making her even more determined to
cling to life.
Nothing
could repair the damage done by the injustice of all that had occurred.
It took too long to learn the truth about
Brad Johnson.
Rare was his capacity of
compassion and love for those dear to him.
How she could have been so blind, Sam wondered.
Brad had been waiting for her all along, all
he wanted was her, trust, to believe in him, reach out to him, and admit she
loved him.
The reason he had given her
the rose.
Hovering
above her body Sam watched the green forms working feverishly to save her
life.
The hard plastic tube shoved into
her lungs providing the necessary oxygen to revitalize her mind served to
escort her down the path's memories had drudged.
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Noticing
someone in the shadow stationed by his car, Brad felt a trace of uneasiness
assail him.
Was it Ted?
No, Ted was taller, slimmer.
Blinking rapidly to remove the haze hindering
his vision, he concluded it was only wish filled thinking.
Relief flooded him. No longer possessing the
strength required to squeeze the life from Ted, all he wanted now was
answers.
The
medium height, round figure advancing toward him opened his arms to enfold his
tormented body.
“I've been waiting for you,
son.
Let's go home.”
Ralph opened the passenger door, and then
moved around the car to slide in behind the wheel.
“I knew you wouldn't be up to driving.
What's the plan,” he asked while starting the
engine.
“Southampton.
I need to think.” Brad's head fell back
against the plush headrest. Soon darkness soothed his soul.
He slept throughout the journey, and even
after their arrival, Ralph did not encourage conversation.
From a bag, Ralph withdrew the groceries he
had purchased busying himself preparing something to eat while his friend sat
mummified in a chair.
Soon stew steamed
from two bowls placed on the coffee table along with some bread and wine.
Sitting opposite from one another Ralph and
Brad ate in dense silence.
Easing
his body back into the overstuffed chair Brad gaped at Ralph, his black as coal
eyes taking on a renewed clarity exposing volcanic anger.
Ralph could almost see the wheels spinning in
Brad's skull.
The diminutive amount of
rest, and nourishment had worked.
Facing
a look boring through him, Ralph sat motionless waiting for what he knew was
coming.
Born no fool, Brad had
sufficient time since arriving to mull things over. Answers were about to be
demanded.
Ralph knew despite the many
years of their friendship it would not matter nor would age be a factor should
Brad decide he was in any way to blame for what happened to Sam.
Ralph
saw the desperation hanging over Brad.
There was no escaping his wraith.
It was best to collide head on.
He could no longer put off information therefore; Ralph braced himself
for the inevitable.
It was wise to wait
until Brad was ready, until he regained his strength, his fight, and his
ability to reason.
The time had come.
Leaning forward, features void of
expression, eyes fixed on Ralph's, Brad calmly questioned, “Why didn't you send
for me?”
“Sam did not instruct me to.
When people are friends they abide by one
another's wishes.”
“Then why did she wait so long to
summon me?”
“She didn't.
No one knew you were coming until you called
Maggie.”
Elbows
on the chair arms, fingers weaved together Brad began toying with them.
“Then whoever sent me the rose knew I had
given it to her, and heard what I told her.”
Without unlacing his fingers, he raised his hands to his skull as if
they were aiding his thoughts.
“A rose did you say?
A pressed rose?”
Ralph's forehead wrinkled, eyes appearing as
though he had suddenly remembered something.
“Yes.”
“One
day while I was visiting Sam she had been reading a book.
The phone rang and when she stood to answer,
she placed the book on the sofa cushion.
When it fell, and I retrieved it, I discovered a dried rose on the
floor.
As soon as she returned, I handed
it to her.
Without expression or
explanation she casually placed it back in the book.”
Brad's hands grabbed Ralph's collar
as he ranted, “Do you remember when that was, what day, how long ago?”
“Christ son, settle down. Let me
think.
If I'm not mistaken I believe it
was the week before she was assaulted.”
Slumping back into the chair, Brad
stared at the wall.
“Then Sam wasn’t the one who sent for
me.”
“I
think she was afraid,” Ralph replied sheepishly.
“She apparently found out something.
All she told me was she had been wrong about
you all along and how terrible she felt.
She felt she could never make it up to you.
It wasn’t until I found her that she pleaded
with me to get you.”
“Were you two close,” Brad pried.
“Yes.
At least I'd like to think so.”
“How much do you know about us?”
“I know she loves you.”
Lurching to a standing position, Brad
circled the chair.
“If she did, she
wouldn't have married Ted.”
Forcing
himself to remain seated, Ralph swallowed his anger.
Remaining calm was important if anything was
to be solved.
“If you ask me, you both
did a good job on Sam.
She was so
confused she did not know who she loved until it was too late.
She was merely a pawn.”
Rallying
to his defense, Brad uttered, “I backed off.
I tried giving her space to make a decision.
She, didn't trust me, didn't believe in
me.
Without those ingredients, there
can't be love.
I honestly thought she'd
be better off with Ted.”
Reclaiming
his seat, Brad's head fell into his hands, fingers raking through tangled
hair.
Looking up with a pitiful expression,
he asked, “Was he abusing her?”
“I never saw any signs of physical
abuse, but . . . mentally . . . yes.”
“When did it start?”
Knowing
guilt pointed in more than one direction refusing a reply, Ralph bent over and
toyed with a ring on his finger.
Brad's voice increased in volume,
“When?”
Ralph's voice matched the pitch,
“When they returned from their honeymoon.”
Brad's
stomach twisted threatening to expel the food within.
Considering the intimacy he had shared with
Sam, it was becoming more apparent her parents were right, he was to blame
after all.
About
to stand again, second thoughts settled him back down. Feelings could not
complicate matters if he was to solve this mess.
A portion of his brain propelled words while
the remainder wondered if something happened on the honeymoon.
“I thought . . . it would be better if . . .
I was out of the . . .
picture.”
Was it possible Ted knew what happened?
Did Sam tell him?
Ralph
watched Brad's face bleach of color.
Concern moved him forward in his chair.
“What is it, son?
What were you
just thinking?”
There was a long pause.
“Brad!”
Brad hung his head and whispered,
“Did she tell you?”
“Tell me what?
For God's sake, will you quit talking in
riddles?”