Authors: Leslie Dana Kirby
“What? You didn't tell me that.”
“Just kidding. Detective Walrus and Detective Pretty Boy don't have me on full lockdown yet.”
“So you're making up excuses to avoid coming to watch me play.”
“The work excuse is real. At least until I win the lottery. Speaking of work, I should get to bed. I need to get going early in the morning.”
Jake walked her upstairs to the guest suite comprised of an enormous bedroom, sitting area with television, and full bathroom. Jake excused himself and soon returned with a soft white men's button down shirt, apologizing that it was all he could find for her to sleep in. Lauren wondered why he hadn't brought her something of Liz's, but she didn't pry. The topic of Liz was likely to trigger more tears.
“Liz kept this place stocked for guests so you should find everything you need, including gently used toothbrushes.” He gave her a quick squeeze good night.
Teresita soon tapped on the door and entered with two large Nordstrom shopping bags. “I hope this will work for you, Miss Lauren.”
“All of this can't be for me. I only needed a couple of things.”
“Mr. Jake tell me to bring you three of everything.”
“What?”
“Three shirt, three short, three pair socks, two pair shoes,” Teresita said in broken English. “That way, we make sure you have something you like.”
“I'm going running, not to the Inaugural Ball.” Teresita looked downcast. “Thank you, Teresita. Really. These are terrific.”
“No, it not that, Miss Lauren. You look like Miss Liz. I miss her very much.”
“Me too,” Lauren said, tears stinging her eyes.
Wearing the shirt with the faint scent of cologne, she fell into a fitful sleep full of disjointed dreams involving Dennis, Liz, blood, Jake, and prison.
(Friday, August 19)
Lauren crept down the stairs at 4:30 the next morning. She entered in the code that Liz had given her months before to disengage the alarm. Just as she hit the enter button, she realized that the code had likely been changed. She was relieved when the alarm clicked into off mode. As she reached for the doorknob, she was startled by a “What do you think you're doing?” from behind her. She jumped.
She turned to find Jake doubled over in laughter. “I'm sorry, Lauren. I didn't mean to scare you, but you should've seen your face. Did you think I was going to let you show me up by going running without me?”
“You want to come running at this hour? Don't you get enough exercise at baseball practice?”
“Not really. Half those guys can't run from first to second in less than an hour. Baseball's where the lazy athletes hide out. If you want to be fit, you play basketball or tennis.”
“All right. Let's go. But do try to keep up.”
They ran about four miles along a running trail that meandered past multimillion-dollar homes. It was a lot more scenic than the downtown streets she usually ran. Lauren maintained a good pace, finishing in twenty-eight minutes. Jake had been content to run by her side for most of the trek, but occasionally he would circle around her, yelling “Am I keeping up okay?” Lauren only smiled because she was too winded to speak.
As they rounded the final corner of the curving driveway, Jake launched into a full sprint for the final fifty yards. Lauren lengthened her stride in an effort to keep up, but still reached the front door a full five seconds behind him. She grabbed her thighs as she struggled to catch her breath. Jake grinned. “That was fun. Let's go again.”
It was still only five a.m., but Teresita had already arrived. She lived nearby in her own apartment, but came to the Wakefield house to clean five days a week. Several fragrant candles burned and Teresita was setting the dining table.
“Stay for breakfast?” Jake asked. “Waffles from the delivery service.”
“Healthy waffles?”
“They take the calories out and leave the flavor in.”
Lauren took a quick shower while Teresita prepared breakfast. She would have to leave for work soon, so she let her hair dry naturally. The result was soft damp waves instead of her usual smooth, straight hair. Jake complimented the look.
Breakfast conversation was entertaining and Lauren realized how lonely she had been. She savored her independence, but it was nice to have somebody to discuss the newspaper with over whole-wheat waffles, fresh berries, and turkey sausage.
“Coffee?” Jake offered as he picked up the pot of fresh brew.
“No thanks.”
“I forgot Liz told me you don't drink coffee. We could never understand how you made it through medical school without it.”
“Lots of Diet Coke.”
“I could send Teresita out for some Diet Coke.”
“No need. I'll muddle through somehow,” Lauren said, pointing to her glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.
After breakfast, Jake walked Lauren to her car, opening the door for her. “I really wish you could come to Colorado.”
“I wish I could too, but duty calls.”
“You're working too hard. Especially with all the other stuff you're dealing with. Maybe you
should
take the year off.”
“Work keeps me sane. Besides, I have bills to pay. Remember?”
Lauren detected a linger in Jake's hug. “Let's get together as soon as I get back from Colorado.”
“Sure.” Lauren slid into her driver's seat. “When do you get back?”
“We're back on Tuesday. Then we play at home against the Dodgers on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. You have
to come to one of those games.”
Lauren took a moment to consider her schedule. “I should have Friday off.”
“Should?”
“I'm scheduled to have Friday off, but sometimes things come up and we have to work.”
“That's perfect; I'm scheduled to pitch Friday. We just won't let anything come up. I'll put a moratorium on sick and injured people that day.”
“Then I'll be there.”
“Great.” He smiled at her as he closed her car door. She sneaked a peak in her rearview mirror as she drove away and found he was still watching her until she rounded a corner out of sight.
Even though there wasn't much traffic on Saturday mornings, the trip to the hospital took thirty minutes. Feeling overwhelmed by swarming thoughts, Lauren turned up the radio to eardrum-damaging decibels and focused on the lyrics as she sang along. She pulled into the hospital parking lot later than usual, rushing to get to the patient report on time.
“Boy, am I glad to see you.” Ritesh said as Lauren hurried up. “It's been a crazy night. Bay One is a gang member who got shot, through and through the right shoulder. He'll be fine, but you might learn some new vocabulary words from him. Bay Two is a one-year-old kid who took a header into the coffee table while learning to walk. Scalp injury, so there's loads of blood. The kid's okay, but the mom needs to be sedated. Bay Three is a genius who decided to shake a vending machine, which fell on him, crushing his right leg. We're waiting on X-rays and a Mensa evaluation. Bay Four is a recovering myocardial infarct; he's already been admitted to the cardiac unit. We're waiting for them to take him up. And Bay Five, my personal favorite, is a guy who âslipped and fell' (Ritesh used his fingers to create the quotation marks for Lauren, grinning mischievously) on a carrot while naked. I'm thrilled to pass him off to you. I fear he might have enjoyed my medical intervention a bit too much. I suspect you aren't his type. Though your hair does look quite sexy this morning. Almost like you ran out of time. Late night last night?”
Lauren blushed, feeling as if she had a scarlet letter branded on her forehead. She had to remind herself she had done nothing wrong. “Behave. You better get gone before Bay Five requests your services personally.”
“Say no more.” Ritesh made an exaggerated about-face movement and headed toward the locker room.
Lauren did a quick mental inventory of the cases she had assumed responsibility for. Determining that Bay Four was the most acute, she headed to check on Mr. Steven Gunther, who had been lucky to survive a heart attack earlier that morning.
Lauren remained lost in her work until she received a text message from Jake at about two that afternoon.
Getting ready to board the plane for Colorado. I'm confirmed as the starting pitcher on Friday. I'll send a car to pick you up at 4. Game starts at 6. See you then. Call me if you need anything.
Lauren's heart skipped a beat and she couldn't resist the urge to smile. She finally had something to smile about.
(Tuesday, August 23)
Dennis called Lauren a few days later. “Time for straight talk,” he drawled. “I've made several calls to Scottsdale P.D. and the county attorney's office. I do believe they consider you a suspect in this case. I know Wallace from way back and he's usually willing to offer me a little something, but he was completely tight-lipped. He would only tell me they were still trying to rule you out. I don't mean to scare you, but that doesn't sound good.”
“There have been no leaks on the case. None. I've had my legal assistants running down every related news story. There are hundreds, but none of them have contributed any information other than what was released on day one. That's very unusual in a case of this magnitude. Usually some of the folks involved in the investigation can't resist sharing the goods with a friend on a big case like this. But not this time.”
This part, at least, was good news. Investigative leaks compromised the integrity of the case. Lauren was grateful that autopsy photos of her sister hadn't been leaked for publication in some cheesy tabloid magazine alongside such headlines as “Tom Cruise Gets Liposuction.” However, she would have loved to have gained some insight into the direction of the police investigation.
Dennis continued. “In a case with this degree of public scrutiny, the police will be looking to make an arrest as quickly as possible. If they had enough evidence to arrest you, they would be eager to do so with full press coverage. No news is good news.”
“But I want the police to make an arrest in this case. I want a conviction. I want justice for my sister.”
“I understand that, Lauren. But we don't want it to be
your
arrest and
your
conviction.”
(Friday, August 19âFriday, August 26)
Lauren slept in until 8:17 on Friday morning. For the first time in weeks, she had not had nightmares. During her morning run, she thought about the baseball game that afternoon with anticipation.
She ran twice as far as usual because she was brimming with excitement, but it was still only 9:25 when she returned home. Too distracted to sit still, Lauren used her day off to respond to a large pile of sympathy cards. Finally, she took a shower, carefully styled her hair and makeup, and deliberated over what to wear before settling on denim shorts and a red Diamondbacks tank top.
The car arrived promptly at four o'clock. Lauren had only traveled in a limo once before, at Liz and Jake's wedding. On that occasion, the car had been filled with the excited chatter of Liz and the other bridesmaids. By comparison, this trip was tranquil.
“The bar is stocked with food and drinks. Please help yourself,” the driver said over the intercom.
Lauren opened the miniature refrigerator, marveling at the selection of beer, wine, and snack foods. She wasn't a big drinker, but she decided to indulge in some chardonnay.
While other cars waited in long lines to get into Chase Field, the limo driver entered a VIP entrance and proceeded to the stadium gates. Lauren gave her ticket to a man at the gate, who escorted her to a skybox behind home plate. The box was immaculately furnished. Lauren was greeted coolly by several baseball wives. All of them were dressed to the nines with high heels showcasing long legs. Lauren felt conspicuously underdressed. The other women warmed up considerably when she introduced herself, proceeding to tell her how much they had all adored Liz.
In general, the players' wives seemed more interested in the open bar than they did in the game. Lauren, however, watched every minute of play. During the seventh-inning stretch, she stood and sang “Take Me out to the Ball Game” in her off-key alto. Jake caught her eye from the field and rewarded her with a wave. Lauren beamed as she waved back.
Jake was pitching a perfect game thus far, but the score was still tied at zero. The Diamondbacks had gotten several hits, but had been unable to translate any of those into runs. The excitement was escalating about Jake's flawless pitching performance. Conventionally, the pitching coach would pull him after the seventh inning to protect his pitching arm, allowing a closer to finish off the game. As the Diamondbacks took the field in the eighth inning, the crowd went wild with applause when Jake returned to the mound. He would get his chance to complete his perfect game.
Tommy Moranda, a well-respected relief pitcher, was warming up in the bullpen. Jake would be pulled from the game if he gave up a hit. Lauren sent up a silent prayer to a god she didn't really believe in.
The eighth man in the Dodger lineup was up to bat. Generally speaking, the bottom of the lineup represented weaker batters. Jake easily struck him out.
The next batter was the Dodger pitcher, Peter Davis. Davis had been pitching a strong game, having not given up any runs himself. However, the Dodger manager pulled Davis in favor of their strongest pinch hitter, Ray Robinson. Robinson had one of the highest batting averages in the league and was especially skilled at batting against southpaw pitchers.
Tall and muscle-bound, Robinson sauntered toward the plate. Lauren observed Jake for signs of stress, detecting none. He exuded confidence. Without hesitation, he fired two pitches straight down the strike zone, even though Robinson was crowding the plate. Robinson didn't swing at either of them. On the third pitch, Robinson stepped into an enormous swing. Strike three.
Returning to the top of their lineup, the Dodgers' first baseman came up to bat. On the second pitch, he tapped the ball to the shortstop, who caught it handily. Jake was one inning closer to the perfect game.
Batter number four for the Diamondbacks stepped up to the plate. Lauren hoped the home team would score some runs this inning, taking some of the pressure off Jake when he returned to the mound. But it wasn't meant to be. Three up and three down, leaving the game still tied zero to zero at the start of the ninth inning.
The crowd erupted as Jake resumed his position on the pitching mound. He quickly struck out the first batter, but the second batter was another southpaw by the name of Hudson. Jake had to adjust his windup due to Hudson's left-handed batting stance. Jake threw three balls and no strikes before delivering a fourth pitch directly into the strike zone. Hudson lined up on the ball, struck it with the sweet spot of the bat, and it sailed far into left field. Spectators leapt to their feet to watch the trajectory of the ball, which was heading over the fence. The Diamondbacks left fielder made a spectacular play, leaping to catch the ball at the fence and securing the second out.
Next up was the cleanup hitter for the Dodgers, their burly catcher named Garcia. Garcia was having an outstanding hitting season relative to previous years, prompting rumors that he was taking steroids. Normally, Jake might intentionally walk a player like Garcia to prevent him from winning the game with a homerun, but that would ruin Jake's shot at a perfect game. Instead, Jake fired pitch after pitch over home plate. Garcia got a bat on each one, tipping a total of seven foul balls. Jake glanced up at the skybox and grinned at Lauren. Before she could return his smile, he turned on the mound, slid a knuckle ball down the center of the plate, and Garcia went down swinging.
Music blared, fans whistled and cheered, and everybody jumped to their feet. But it wasn't over yet. Jake had pitched nine perfect innings. No hits, no runs, no errors. However, they were still tied at zeroes; the Diamondbacks could still lose this game. And the bottom of the Diamondbacks lineup were coming up to bat, making it less likely they would score this inning.
The Dodgers brought in outstanding relief pitcher Toby Bennett, who had a reputation for squeezing wins out of tightly contested games like this one. He decisively struck out Diamondback batters number seven and eight. Jake was number nine. Most pitchers were not strong hitters and Jake was no exception.
Jake approached the batter's box. The cheering escalated to a roar so loud Lauren could no longer hear the commentary on the television a few feet away. Jake grinned contagiously and the crowd began chanting his name.
He allowed the first pitch, a strike, to pass. The umpire called the second pitch a strike even though it looked high. The crowd booed. On the third pitch, Jake swung with gusto. He had committed now; he would either hit the ball or strike out trying. The bat cracked against the ball, which sailed over the shortstop's head, a line drive low and hard into left field. Jake rounded first and slid safely into second base just before the ball arrived from the left fielder.
There were now two outs, Jake was on second base, and the leadoff batter, Antonio Santos, was coming up to bat. After several agonizing minutes and five pitches, it was a full count against Santos. Lauren watched, mesmerized. Santos whacked the next pitch forcefully, launching it into right field, the sound of bat against ball resonating around the stadium. The second baseman jumped, nearly catching the ball, but it hit his glove and veered off in another direction forcing the outfielders to change direction to pursue it.
Santos stopped at first. Jake rounded third and, totally ignoring the advice of the base coach, barreled for home. He slid in a storm of dust just as the catcher caught the ball. The crowd watched the umpire expectantly, who skipped a beat before throwing out his arms in the safe signal. The Diamondbacks had won. Loud cheers erupted from the crowd.
Pandemonium broke out on the field. Jake was nearly crushed by the enthusiastic congratulations of his teammates. He had pitched one of only a handful of perfect games in the entire history of baseball.
Santos' wife, Eva, touched Lauren gently on the arm. “Are you okay?”
“I'm just so happy for him,” she said, realizing tears were streaming down her face. For all the tears she had shed since Liz's death, these were the first that were tears of joy rather than despair.