Dead by Sunset: Perfect Husband, Perfect Killer? (56 page)

who each claimed to be the mother of a baby.
 
The real mother cried out

as the sword descended to cut the baby in two.
 
Cheryl, however lacking

she was as a mother, would never have let her sons taste poisoned

food.

And Brad would know that.

Sara listened as Brad ranted on about Cheryl.
 
She worried because he

never censored his conversation in front of his sons.
 
He always

blurted out whatever was on his mind.
 
The little boys were listening

now, and Sara didn't want Brad to get into the details again about some

weird poison plot.
 
Cheryl was, after all, their mother, and Brad could

get a little histrionic.
 
The boys appeared to love their mother a lot,

no matter what.
 
Sara wasn't a mother, but she knew enough about

psychology to know it wasn't good for kids to have to choose up sides

between parents, or to hear such accusations.

"What'd you guys have for dinner?"
 
Sara asked, changing the subject as

she turned to face toward the second seat of the Suburban.

"Orange juice,"Jess answered.

Brad rolled his eyes.
 
He said he was sure that Cheryl did that on

purposeþfilled the boys up with liquid so they would wet their beds in

his apartment.
 
Anything she could do to make life difficult for him,

she would do.

Back at the Madison Tower, Sara and Brad tucked the boys into bed in

the room that Brad kept just for themþJess and Michael in their bunk

beds, and Phillip in his crib.
 
The storm eased and everything was

serene again.

Sara was on duty at Providence the next morning.
 
She tiptoed out of

the apartment and left them all sleeping, she had to be at the hospital

by 6:30

A.M. The mass of Portland is divided in two by the Willamette River,

and the Madison Tower is in the western part, while Providence Hospital

is in the eastern section.
 
Even so, Sara had only about seven miles to

drive, crossing the river via the Morrison Bridge.
 
She drove her

Toyota Cressida, it was white and she had treated herself to the deluxe

leather interior.
 
Her commute was a quick trip along the

rain-scrubbed, empty streets of an early weekend-morning Portland.

Sara knew Brad planned to take the boys to Jess's first soccer game

that day.
 
All of them, with the possible exception of Phillip who was

too young to understand, were excited about it.
 
Jess was going to play

for the Bridlemile Buddies.
 
Then Brad was going to take the boys to

Dunkin' Donuts after the game.
 
Sara hoped they all had a fun day.

As it turned out, it wasn't a fun dayþat least not for Brad.
 
When Sara

got home Saturday evening, she found him fuming.
 
He told her that

Cheryl had broken the custody rules again.
 
This was supposed to be his

weekend, and Cheryl knew that, but she had shown up brazenly at Jess's

soccer game, deliberately horning in on his time with the boys.
 
It had

ruined the game for Brad.
 
He had to look at Cheryl sitting there in

the bleachers as if she had every right to be there.
 
One of Cheryl's

Gamma Phi Beta sorority sisters from the University of Washington,

Nancy Davis, had a son on the Bridlemile Buddies too, and her husband

was the boys' coach, so Cheryl had sat there with Nancy.
 
Brad told

Sara that he had picked up Phillip and Michael and walked to the other

side of the field to avoid her.

It had gotten to the point where Brad and Cheryl seemed to be fighting

over even the most minute details of custody, and, to Sara at least, it

seemed such a waste of emotionþbut then she had never had a child and

she didn't like to judge Brad's reactions.

They tucked the boys in, then Brad and Sara went to bed, but her beeper

sounded at 2:30 on Sunday morning and she was called back to Providence

Hospital to administer anesthesia for emergency surgery.
 
After the

patient was stable and out from under the anesthesia, she went back to

Brad's apartment and caught a few hours' sleep.
 
Exhausted, she still

forced herself to get up so she could have breakfast with Brad and the

boys.
 
She was supposed to meet a girlfriend for brunch, but she was

too tired, she called and canceled.

Brad could see how tired Sara was, so he thoughtfully took the boys out

to play in the park after breakfast.
 
Grateful, she crawled back into

bed until one, and was back on duty at the hospital at 3

P.M. She had scarcely seen Jess, Michael, and Phillip all weekend, so

she suggested that they all have supper with her that Sunday evening.

The American Dream Pizza Company was kitty-corner from one wing of

Providence, and the boys loved pizza.
 
At 5

P.M. Sara left the medicinal-smelling hospital corridors and walked to

the restaurant, enjoying the sunny September afternoon.

Brad was always on time.
 
That was just one of the many things Sara

liked about him.
 
If he said he would be someplace, she could count on

him.
 
She thoughthe looked handsome as he strode toward her with his

sons, but then Brad always looked handsome to Sara.
 
Later, she

remembered he was wearing a burgundy golf shirt, casual slacks, and a

brown leather jacket.
 
She couldn't recall if he was wearing boots or

tennis shoes.
 
At the time, it didn't matter.

They had a leisurely meal, enjoying each other's company and the

beautiful Sunday evening.
 
Grinning devilishly, Brad urged the boys to

drink more and more Pepsi.
 
Cheryl had delivered them to him with their

bladders full of orange juice, now he would return the "favor" and take

them home full of soda pop.

Toward the end of their meal, Brad told Sara that something was wrong

with his Suburban, it was missing and stalling, and he suspected he had

probably gotten a tank of dirty gas that was plugging his gas line.

He asked the boys to demonstrate the sound his van made and they all

laughed when Jess and Michael obliged by snorting and hiccuping.

"Could I borrow your car to take the kids back to Cheryl?"
 
Brad

asked.

Sara nodded.
 
She wouldn't be needing her Toyota Cressida that evening,

anyway.
 
She would be either in the doctors' lounge, in the on-call

room, or in surgery.

Brad drove his Suburban over from the pizza place and parked it next to

Sara's car in the doctors' lot.
 
Sara walked back with the boys,

reluctant to leave the clean air and dappled sunlight of that lovely

evening.
 
Brad was pouring some kind of gas additive into the tank of

his van when they caught up with him.
 
"It needs to sit in the tank for

a while," he said.
 
"It'll work better that way."

Sara knew absolutely nothing about the inner workings of a car.

She didn't know that a gas additive doesn't even start to work until

the vehicle is actually driven and the additive circulates through the

adulterated gas lines.
 
She gave Brad her key ring.
 
He took off her

car key and handed back her other keys and the keys to his Suburban,

although neither one of them expected she would need them.
 
If Brad was

nervous about driving the Suburban because the engine was missing, she

certainly wasn't about to venture out in it.
 
Anyway, Brad promised he

would be back to visit with her in the doctors' lounge within the

hour.

It was about ten minutes to seven when Brad and the boys were ready to

go.
 
As usual, things were a little hectic.
 
Brad suddenly remembered

that he had left Jess's "special blankev" back at his apartment.

"Maybe I'll call Cheryl and have her pick up the boys for a change," he

said.

"I can hand her the blanket then."

As far as Sara knew, Cheryl had never before picked up her sons at the

Madison Tower, nor had she delivered them there.
 
She wondered if

Cheryl would even agree to that.
 
She seemed to give Brad such a hard

time about everything.
 
One thing Sara did know.
 
There was no way that

Brad was going to get to Cheryl's house in the West Slope area by seven

þnot from Providence Hospital.
 
He still had to go through downtown

Portland and then swing west onto Route 26, the Sunset Highway.

Brad gave Sara a quick peck on the cheek and again promised he would be

back to spend the evening with her until about nine.
 
Brent had been

gone all weekend on a scuba diving trip to Hood Canal and was due home

after that.
 
Brad wanted to be there when he got back.

When Brad and the boys drove off, Sara waved goodbye and headed back to

the doctors' lounge.
 
Her schedule demanded that she remain on trauma

call all night.
 
The hospital provided a suite, not unlike a nice hotel

suite, for physicians who were on call overnight.
 
She would begin her

regular operation schedule first thing Monday morning.
 
It was possible that she would be working almost around the clock.
 
If she was

lucky, she would get a good night's sleep.
 
At about 7:30 she was

watching television in the lounge when the hospital operator paged her

and she picked up the phone.
 
It was Brad.

"I called Cheryl," he said.
 
"She's going to pick up the boys.
 
I still

should be over there before eight."

Sara was relieved.
 
They chatted for about five minutes, and then she

turned her attention back to the television.
 
She expected to look up

at any moment and see Brad coming through the door of the lounge.
 
He

had been there often enough to know exactly where to find her.

But Brad didn't appear.
 
If she was expecting anyone else, Sara

wouldn't have been concerned, but Brad was such a punctual man.
 
She