Killer Career (14 page)

Julie mustn’t die. Without her he’d miss everything. They’d
never make love and have a child. They’d never grow old together.

Whoa, where had that come from? Is that how he really felt? Did he
love Julie that way?

All he knew was that it might be too late. A plan was out there,
irreversible for a mere mortal like him to change. If only he knew
what it was. Would she be all right?

Please, God, don’t take her away,
he prayed.

* * *

The next morning Dade couldn’t get his mind off Julie. He grabbed
the remote and changed the channels on the television set, then
switched it off again. He hated soaps and exhibitionist talk shows.
He reached on the side of the bed for the folder on the Elton case.
No use. He couldn’t keep his mind on the proposed decision.

The phone, which the nurse had placed on the bed beside him, rang.
Maybe it was Julie asking about a file. He almost dreaded hearing
from her.

“Mr. Donovan, this is Sergeant O’Connor. How are you doing?”

Dade’s stomach flopped. Reminders of the accident hurt deep,
leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He’d killed someone. It didn’t
matter he hadn’t meant to. The results were the same.

“I’m doing better, Sergeant. The doctor confirmed I’m leaving
at the end of the week.”

“Good. Listen, I need to talk to you. We checked over your
vehicle.”

Papers rustled. Dade stifled his impatience, as the man took his
time, poking through the file.

“Mr. Donovan, you can thank your lucky stars you’re alive. Your
brake line was cut. There’s also the matter of the driver’s side
air bag being disabled. You didn’t arrange that, did you?”

“No. I had no reason to. Hell, I didn’t even think about that air
bag. It should have gone off.”

“Right. My advice is to watch your back. Someone’s out to get
you. Off hand, can you think of any candidates?”

“In my profession all sorts of people get mad at me, but to go to
such lengths to get even is stretching it.”

“Well, don’t take this lightly. Let me know if you come up with a
lead.”

“Fine, officer, and thanks.” Dade slowly hung up the phone.

The script was straight out of a Grade B movie. Whoever hated him had
succeeded in committing murder, but the poor guy in the Cavalier had
been the victim instead of the real target.

Dade shut his eyes tight, but couldn’t erase the vision of the
other driver. He’d never forget the terrified look on the man’s
face. It would live in his nightmares forever. And the poor wife, how
was she doing? He’d asked the police for her contact information,
but they’d said she didn’t want to talk to anyone but immediate
family. He would not intrude on her grief. He’d done enough.

Damn, the whole thing reminded him too much of Todd, who’d lost
Laura in the accident with the drunken driver.

“Are you all right?”

“Oh, hi, Avery. I didn’t see you.”

“Of course not. Your eyes were closed. Plus you’ve got a massive
frown on your face. Do you need more pain meds?”

“No, that’s not necessary. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Tell me what’s wrong,” she said, dangling a
small paper bag in front of him. “If you don’t, I’ll eat all of
Mom’s chocolate chip cookies.”

Dade drew a long sigh. “Okay, I give up.”

He hated to alarm her, but maybe they should all be on guard. Someone
hated him enough to cut his brakes. Who knows where it might end?

“Strange stuff is going on. I just got a call from Sergeant
O’Connor from the investigation unit. My brake line was cut.”

“He can’t be serious. Who would do that?”

“Hell if I know. I’ve stepped on enough attorneys’ toes, had my
share of disappointed clients and fakers, but none stand out in my
mind.”

“What about that crazy secretary? What’s her name, Nora
something? Could she have done it? You know, the one who screwed up
your computers?”

“I must not have told you. She’ll never hurt anyone again. The
poor thing committed suicide. Apparently, Nora had more baggage than
any of us knew.”

“That’s horrible, the poor thing. Listen, Dade, I don’t want
anything happening to you. You can’t let this rest. Whoever it was
might try again and you might not be so lucky.”

“I know I have to figure this out, but for now I’ve got other
considerations.”

“What could be more important than your life?”

“I’m worried about Julie. She’s got health problems. Do you
think you could go over and have a talk with her? She needs it.”

He filled Avery
in on Julie’s dizzy
spells.

“It may turn out to be nothing, but, just in case, we’ve got to
be there for her.”

“We always have and always will be. After all, she’s one of us,”
Avery said, nodding solemnly.

* * *

The hospital room was so cold her teeth chattered. Julie took one
look at the MRI machine, then back at the doorway where she’d come
in. She could still escape.

She didn’t want to do this, but had to. She trusted Dr. Crane.
Though some doctors disagreed with his thinking, he insisted that a
normal MRI would be more accurate than the Open MRI she would rather
use.

The long cylinder gleamed, mocking her fear. The thought of lying in
that small confined space made perspiration dribble down her back.
What if she got stuck?

A white-coated technician, with cocoa colored skin, asked for the
prescription sheet. With a reassuring flash of white teeth, he said,
“This won’t hurt a bit.”

“That’s good.” Julie tried to sound nonchalant, as if lying
inside a closed-up tube was an everyday occurrence.

The technician explained the procedure would take about forty minutes
as views were taken from various angles.

He held out a pair of earplugs. “Please put these on, miss, to
protect your ears. I’m sorry we can’t provide you with any music
today, but the CD player isn’t working.”

“That’s okay. I’ll manage.” The earplugs almost dropped as
she reached for them with trembling hands.

Here goes nothing. She took a deep breath. Following the technician’s
instructions, she climbed the two tiny steps up to the white sheeted
table and lay flat on her back. He cradled her head in a helmet-like
contraption for stabilization.

The room was so cold. Her eyes hurt from the bright lights. She
closed them tight to shut out the glare.

“Ready,” he asked.

Never. “Yes,” she said, though what she really wanted to do was
jump off the table and run away.

“If you need me, I’ll be in the adjoining room. I’ll hear
anything you say through the microphone. Now let’s begin. Don’t
worry. You’ll do fine.”

The table moved forward, further and further, until she was deep in
the recesses of the narrow tube. She was trapped. She couldn’t do
this. She had to. She bit her lip and scrunched her eyelids tight,
forcing herself to stay put.

The darkness took on a light of its own, changing to reds and greens.
She began to pray.

Suddenly the jackhammers clanged, intruding into her narrow space.
She clenched her teeth.

Holding herself as still as possible, she felt the machine move back
and forth, as it examined the hidden layers of her skull from
different aspects. Strange, how minutes could creep by so slowly when
you were in agony.

“The next test will be four minutes,” the technician said.

The one preceding it had lasted two minutes. This would take twice as
long. She couldn’t stand it. She had to get out. Sweat formed on
her forehead. Her foot itched. It took every ounce of will power to
remain still.

She tried to count, but lost track of the numbers and had to start
all over again.

“Only one left,” the technician said. “This will take two
minutes.”

The last few minutes dragged out longer than all of the other ones
combined.

“That’s it. You’re done,” he finally said. “I’ll be right
there. Stay put.”

As the table moved out of the machine, the cold settled on her arms,
which were still wet from perspiration. She couldn’t stop shaking.

It’s over
, her mind said. The rest of her didn’t seem to
listen.

“When you’re ready, sit up,” she heard him say.

She could barely move but she sure didn’t want to stay.

Julie slowly opened her eyes. Bright light stabbed them. With shaking
fingers, she pulled out the earplugs. Gripping the sides of the
table, she turned her legs.

Putting a foot down, she swayed.

“Are you all right,” the technician asked.

“I’ll manage.”

“Let me help you.”

He put his arm under the elbow. With legs wobbling, she managed to
step down the stairs.

“Your doctor will get the results in forty-eight hours, maybe
sooner.”

Fresh fear hit her. She’d been so involved in the ordeal, she’d
overlooked why it was necessary.

Trying to appear unconcerned, she thanked the technician and wished
him a nice day. Inside, the terror built.

The results - - the words were cold, like the room she’d left. Neon
reflected off the waxed floors, casting a surreal glow, as her wobbly
legs took her down the hallway and through the revolving glass doors.

When she stepped into the mid-August sunlight, her lungs shed the
cold hospital air and filled themselves with warmth. She was back in
the real world. She’d faced down her claustrophobia and survived.

* * *

Dr. Crane’s office looked the same as usual. The sign-in sheet sat
on the ledge by the receptionist. Magazines rested in the wall racks
and spread across various end tables. The cinnamon colored tweed
chairs clustered together in twos and threes.

The setting didn’t fool her. She knew the truth. This was all a
mask. Beneath the deceptive normality lay something horrid. By its
very benign nature, the room took on hideous dimensions.

Until now, she’d never realized the heartache that dwelled here.
Behind the adjoining door, leading to the inner sanctum, terror and
pain reigned. There, in cubicle-like rooms, patients discovered how
their bodies had betrayed them. What terrible things would she learn?
What was the matter with her? A frisson of fear streaked up and
down her spine.

Julie grabbed a magazine off the rack and headed to the nearby chair.
She turned its glossy pages, but they didn’t distract her. The
vibrant beautiful bodies staring back were all inhabitants of another
world, the “Never-Never Land” of smiling, healthy people.

A rhythmic sound interrupted her efforts at serenity. A pimple-faced
teenager with earphones tapped his foot to the CD player on his lap.
The volume was so intense the bass vibrated into her eardrums,
scratching the nerve endings. She wanted to yank that CD player off
his head, throw it on the floor and grind it into tiny little pieces.

If only it were that simple. The gesture might make her feel good,
but it wouldn’t cure her illness.

Julie sighed and shifted in her seat, trying to ignore the scratchy
tweed. Within the hour she’d receive her test results and it would
all be over, for better or for worse.

Balancing her work schedule with numerous out-patient tests at
Northwestern Memorial had been a feat onto itself, but she’d
followed Dr. Crane’s orders and taken an echocardiogram, a CT scan,
an ear exam, a six hour glucose test, tons of blood work, and last,
the most frightening of all, the MRI, which still gave her the
willies.

“Julie McGuire,” the nurse said, smiling and beckoning toward the
door to the inner sanctum.

She’d been summoned, yet she was reluctant to leave the safety of
her chair. Julie took a deep breath and followed the nurse to a small
room.

“The doctor will be with you shortly.”

In doctor’s office code that meant at least twenty more minutes.

As she waited, she read the wall charts and tried not to think of her
test results. It was no use. She wanted the waiting to be over. She
wanted to know what was wrong. When she did know, would she wish she
didn’t?

After an agonizing half hour, the doorknob turned. As Dr. Crane
stepped in, Julie’s heart leapt into her throat. She gripped the
edge of the chair.

He glanced down at the chart in his hands. His eyes held a kindly
expression as he said, “Ms. McGuire, you passed all the tests with
flying colors, except for one.”

Please God, don’t let it be a bad one.

He paused for an eternity.

What’s wrong with me? Say it. Get it over with. She bit her lip to
keep from yelling the words out loud. Tightening her grip on the edge
of the chair, she fought back a wave of dizziness.

“Doctor, which one did I fail,” she asked in almost a whisper.

* * *

Dade wheeled himself into the court room, plopped his briefcase on
the desk facing the Arbitrator and pulled out the file. He went
through the motions of pleading Edna Butler’s case and shooting
down the defense attorney’s arguments. He’d rather not be here,
but he’d do his best for his client.

He’d offered to stay with Julie when she heard the test results.
She’d refused, saying Edna’s case had been postponed too long.

“Your client needs you. I’ll be all right.”

What about you, Julie?
Don’t you need me?

It was plain she didn’t want him around and that hurt. So he went
to the trial. Now he could kick himself for letting his pride get the
better of him. He should have asked for a continuance so he could be
with Julie. She shouldn’t be alone. What if it was bad news?

Damn, he was stupid. If only Avery or Mom could have been there with
her, but Julie had insisted Mom not know about the situation and
Avery was covering a hostage situation.

The trial dragged on. It wasn’t until after one when Dade was
finally able to wheel himself out of the Thompson building and head
back to the office.