Identity (4 page)

Tuesday morning Tom radio-alarm woke him up at 6:00 playing smooth jazz.  He contemplated turning over a getting a few more hours of sleep, then remembered he had to make a stop before going to see Jane Doe.

He drove down Sheridan rode to Pete's Book Rack.  When he entered he could see the owner, Pete setting up a display table with the new releases. 

"Hi Pete."

Pete turned and recognized a familiar face.

"Hi Tom.  What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for a book for someone.  I'm not sure what kind"

"Well, what is your friend interested in?"

"That's hard to say.  I guess I need something generic."

"Here are the new releases.  Some look interesting."

"I was thinking more of a classic.  Figure that would be a safe way to go."

"How about this?"  He handed him a copy of LETTERS FROM THE EARTH by Mark Twain.  

Tom read the book jacket.  "Well, one can always count on Mark Twain for an interesting tale.  I'll take it."

"Glad I could help you.  Don't get many customers now days.  Seems everyone get their books electronically.  Then, those big bookstores are getting the authors to have book signings.  Stores like mine are going to be a thing of the past."

"I'd hate to see that happen.  To quote Eliot, 'Books are the quietest and most constant of friends.'"

"You got that right.  That will be $15.00."

Tom paid and left the store.  He arrived at Jane Doe's room just after nine. 

He sat down and opened the book.  He began reading: "The Creator sat upon the throne, thinking.  Behind him stretched the illimitable..."

A half hour later his throat was dry and he was thirsty.  He closed the book.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Tom arrived every morning at Jane's bedside.  It had been two weeks, and Tom worried that Jane Doe wasn't going to regain consciousness.  Tom had finished LETTERS FROM THE EARTH and brought the December issue of the SMITHSONIAN Magazine for his new reading. 

As he approached the nurses’ station, he saw that the activity was more animated.

A young nurse rushed to greet him, "Detective Cassell she's awake."

Tom smiled and bowed his head acknowledging the words.  His body had a feeling of euphoria.   He wanted to run to Jane Doe's room, but kept a steady pace as he walked down the corridor.  Doctor Gold and his staff were still in the room.  A nurse moved aside allowing Tom to enter.  He listened to the doctor as he explained to Jane her current condition and future prognosis.

"Samantha, we're going to set up for physical therapy and a light menu plan to get you started.  I'll check in with you tomorrow to discuss a more inclusive plan." The doctor gave some instructions to the nurses and then left the room.

Tom entered the room at looked at the nurse and mouthed, "Samantha?" 

The nurse replied, "Samantha Goodrich, I'd like to introduce you to Detective Cassell."

Samantha's brow knitted.  She seemed confused. Weakly, Samantha replied, "Hi."

Tom smiled, "Is it all right if I ask you a few questions?"

She took a breath and replied, "Okay."

"Your say your name is Samantha Goodrich.  Do you remember where you lived?"

With a knitted brow, she looked at Tom and answered, "No, I can't remember."

The nurse interrupted, "Doctor Gold says she has retrograde amnesia.  He not even sure that's her real name.  It's probably a name she has heard or read about."

"I don't understand."

"It doesn't always happen, but there has been case documents of the side affect of retrograde amnesia."

Samantha lay in bed trying to listen to their conversation and sort things out. She was hoping it would help her understand what was happening.

"Samantha, can you tell me about how you were injured."

Her eyes started closing and she whispered, "I'm so tired."

The nurse laid her hand to Tom's arm, "I think it's time for our patient to rest.  It has been a busy morning for her."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Later in the morning Tom called Jenny to give her the news.

"What's up Tom?"

"There's good news and there is bad news."

"Which do I want to hear first?"

"Let's go with the good news.  Our patient has woken up."

"That's is good.  What's, the bad news?"

"She doesn't remember her name or what happened."

"I don't understand."

"She has amnesia.  She said her name is Samantha Goodrich."

"Am I dumb?  I don't understand how that can be bad."

"It seems retrograde amnesia can cause some confusion in the brain, and the name probably isn't her real name."

"Why do you think it isn't her real name detective?"

"None of the missing persons reports filed in Illinois match that name."

"Yea, but maybe she was from another state?"

"You would think that would be a possibility. I called when I left the hospital.  Steve checked out the Samantha Goodrich's on the Internet. There were three others listed: one in Ohio and two in California.  So, we will assume she's an Illinois resident.  It's going take a lot more digging.  If she didn't have that amnesia, things would be so much easier."

"How long does amnesia last?"

"Based of what I've researched and what the doctor said, it could be weeks or months.  Her memory should come back when something tickles it.”

"I'll call Carole.  I think it's time for us women to get personal with your Samantha."

"That's great.  Maybe being comforted by women not involved in her daily health care will help restore her memory."

***

The next morning Carole and Jenny arrived at the hospital.

"I never liked hospitals."

"I feel like hospitals are my second home.  It's the first place I usually meet victims of crime," Carole replied in a low voice.

They arrived at the firth floor nurses' station as Dr. Gold was at the counter filling out paperwork and relaying some instructions to the nurses on duty for the patients he just visited.  Carole waited for him to finish.

"Dr. Gold."

"Oh, good morning Carole.  I see you got the news."

"Yes.  This is my friend, Jenny Townsend. We're going to visit with Samantha now if that's okay. Is there anything that we should know?"

"I think that would be a splendid idea.  However, you know I can't give you any specific details unless I have her release.  I can say that your victims support group is going to incur some major expenses.  There's a lot of work to be done. 

"Like?"

"Priority should be given to reconstructive surgery.  I've scheduled a CT scan of the head to see whether there is any brain damage that we might have earlier missed. We will also be able determine damage to the face and head which will help in the reconstructive surgery. When she was admitted, we couldn't determine the full extent of the damage until some of the swelling in the brain came down. If you'd like and Samantha agrees, we can go over our course of actions together."

"Thanks.  I'd appreciate that. I call your office will my contact numbers."

"Now, if you will excuse."

"Certainly."  

Carole and Jenny continued down the corridor to Samantha's room.  When they entered the room, Samantha was seated in a large chair with her broken leg elevated on the leg rest.  The physical therapist had her doing arm exercises.  They watched from the doorway and could see from the patient's face that the patient wasn't thrilled with the experience.

The therapist turned and looked up, "We're just finishing up."

"Don't rush because of us," Jenny said.

In less than two minutes, the therapist stood straight and told Samantha that he would be back tomorrow. 

Carole and Jenny entered the room.  Jenny wasn't use to seeing victims of a brutal crime and gave a small gasp as she looked at Samantha.  The bandages had been removed from her head. Little grey hairs were poking up from the scalp.  On her upper right cheek, there were two cuts.  Both cuts had been sutured, and the black stitches stood out from her pale face.  Across her nose was a large white bandage.  Her face was still swollen. The bruising had almost completely faded, but one could tell that almost the entire face had suffered.  She sat in the chair with hers arms bound in white slings which the therapist had put back in place.

In a cheery voice Carole introduced herself and Jenny. 

"They won't let me see a mirror.  Do I look bad?" Samantha asked.

Carole turned to Jenny who replied, "Let's just say, you're not ready for a Vogue cover right now."

Samantha tried to give a little smile. 

"Samantha, I'm from CWVVC and this is my friend Jenny Townsend.  I believe you met her brother, Tom Cassell.  Jenny works with me on occasion. CWVVC is women’s advocacy group for crime victims. We assist these women both physically and mentally, even getting them set up in housing and a job.

"With your permission, we will work with you and the doctors to get you back to health.  We'll be working with the police to find out who did this to you.  You are not alone, and you don't have to worry about anything.  Your job is to get well."

"I don't know what to say—thank you." Samantha whispered.

"You've had enough to think about today.  Jenny and I will be leaving, but one of us will stop by in the next few days." 

Samantha slightly nodded her head, closing her eyes.

The two women left the room.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

It was Monday morning when Rodney pulled into his reserved parking space just before nine a.m.  As he was getting prepared to enter the elevator, he heard high heels clicking hurriedly down the parking lot pavement.   The elevator doors closed without him entering.  His eyes followed the sound of an approaching woman.  He lip curled in a sardonic smile. The heels belonged to the junior editor from the seventh floor.  It was just a matter of time before he would meet her again.

"Thank you for waiting," she said sweetly while looking up at Rodney, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Glad to be of service," nodding in a cavalier manner.

Rodney engaged the elevator button again. The doors immediately opened.  He followed the junior editor in. 

"Seventh floor?" He asked.

"You remembered."

"How could I forget such a beautiful woman?"

The junior editor blushed with a warm feeling engulfing her because the owner of the company remembered her. 

"How long have you been working here?"

"I've been here two years.  Recruited directly from college."

Rodney pushed the STOP button. 

"Your name?"

"Hailey Morgan form Davenport, Iowa at your service," she said cheerfully.

"Hailey, I'd like to see you again.  Would that be okay with you?"

"I'd be honored." Her heart fluttered to think a rich, good-looking man wanted to date her.  Not that she wasn't a looker, but never anyone with both looks and money and ever asked her out.

"You know it would have to be kept a secret.  Can't afford the publicity right now."

"I understand."

"I'll be in touch."  He pushed the START button. The elevator rose to the seventh floor.  Hailey nodded good-by.  Rodney continued to the tenth
floor.

As he stepped out of the elevator, Mrs. Green looked up, smiled while greeting him.

"Mr. Williams, Chuck Bowman is in your office waiting."

"Thank you."  He entered his office and closed the door behind him.

"Chuck, I'm glad you could get those figures together so soon.  Let's go over them."

Chuck handed him a two-page report that Rodney took over to his desk as he sat down.  There was silence in the room as Rodney looked over the figures. Rodney was impressed by the conciseness of report that Bowman provided.

"These figures reinforces that Robinson—Williams is in a strong financial position."

"Rodney, we always have run a tight ship.  Is there some concern now?"

"With Sarah's death, the vultures are hovering.  There is a strong offer from Kaiser Publishing to buy our company."

"I think it should be the other way around.  We are a lot stronger than they are."

"That's what I thought.  Leave these numbers with me.  I'll keep you posted." Rodney thought he wasn't going to let anything happen to his personal piggy bank. 

Chuck gathered his back up files, stood up and left the room closing the door behind him. 

***

Rodney opened his laptop.  His e-mail account showed 32 new e-mails.  He could tell from the subject line that he was still getting e-mails expressing condolences. He check-marked each of them and clicked Delete, leaving the remainders to be answered later.  He reached into his coat pocket and opened his personal cell phone.  He punched the main number for the company.  The automatic answering system gave several prompts.  After punching the correct prompt, he punched the first three keys for MOR. 

Hailey looked at her phone and saw that the screen read,' unknown number.' After the third ring she answered, "Hailey Morgan."

"Hi, it's Rodney."

Hailey flushed and took a deep breath replying, "Oh, I'm so glad you called."

"So am I.  Hailey I like to take you to dinner tonight, but I have to restate that no one can find out about it.  Are you sure you're okay with that?"

"Yes, oh yes."

As Rodney sat at his desk, he knew he was getting a hard-on while he was talking to her.

"Okay, give me your address and I'll pick you us at 6:30."

Hailey didn't hesitate and quickly whispered her address in the phone.   

Their conversation ended. 

Rodney unzipped his pants and pulled out his engorged penis, thinking be patient. Remember details, details. His hand worked the up and down motion until he ejaculated on his hand, some spilling on his pants. He went to the adjoining bathroom to clean up.

***

At 6:28 Rodney pulled Sarah's black SUV in front of Hailey's apartment.  It was perfect...it was a No Parking Zone.  He put the SUV in park and flipped open his cell phone. He punched in Hailey's number.  She saw, again, that the phone read, 'unknown number.'

"Rodney?" 

“I can't find a parking place.  Can you come down?"

Hailey walked over to the front window blinds and peaked through the slats.  She could see with the streetlights that it wasn't his Mercedes. 

"Is that your car?"

"It's one of them. Snow is expected tonight and the SUV has better traction."

"Oh, okay, give me a few secs.  I'll be right down."

When she arrived at the passenger door, He popped the lock and reached over from the driver's seat to pushed the door open.   Hailey climbed in and buckled up. 

"We have to go a little way for a place where I'm not known.  I can't afford to be seen with you right now.  You know how the rumor mill would be."

Hailey gave a "um hummm."

The two engaged in small talk about the weather and Hailey's work while they drove northward on Interstate 90 exiting on 50.  Thirty minutes later the SUV pulled into an Embers Steak House parking lot.

"Where are we?"

"Morton Grove.  Let's hope the food is good here."

When the entered the restaurant it was obvious why Rodney picked this spot.  The lights were dim, and the place was almost empty for a Monday night.  The hostess seated them in a booth.  Hailey wanted Rodney to know how thrilled she was to be with him as she scooted close to him. She reached over and placed her hand on his thigh.

The waitress took their order thinking that this wasn't going to be just an average tip.  She could always tell when a married man wasn't with his wife. Married men didn't want to call attention to the fact that they weren't dining with their wife and this couple surly weren’t married...at least not to each other.

"Hailey tell me about yourself?"

"There's not much to tell.  My mother died when I was seven.  My father didn't handle it well.  He was a mail carrier until he died with cirrhosis of the liver. If it weren't for scholarships, I wouldn't have been able to get through college."