Life Support (36 page)

Gwen quickly did her own math. “That's pushing it for both of us, but it could work. If you decide he's not your type, I'll put on a nice dress and sign up for the choir.”

Detective Giles Porter had huffed and puffed along the trail to Double-Barrel Falls. He knew going back up to his car would be twice as hard. The detective had lived in Mitchell County all his life but never went hiking or camping. His father, who worked twelve-hour shifts at a local textile mill, didn't want to spend his free time wandering through the woods, so camping for pleasure had not been part of Porter's childhood. During his years in law enforcement, the detective had once spent all night in the woods waiting for a suspect to come out of a house and on several occasions trudged through vines and underbrush following the bloodhounds used to track fugitives. Those experiences squelched any idyllic sentiments about nature that might have lingered within him.

He watched the water rush together in a narrow funnel, accelerate, and then split on opposite sides of a boulder that sat securely lodged in the center of the stream. In a thousand years, the boulder might be worn away enough for the flow of water to catapult in unity over the edge of the cliff. But for now it remained as separated as Porter's efforts to connect his guesses and suspicions about what had really happened between Baxter and Rena Richardson at the waterfall. Porter didn't have a firm theory implicating Rena in Baxter's accident, but the idea of visiting the site to see if it helped his thought process had nagged him off and on until he gave in.

The detective inched to the edge of the falls and looked down. It amazed him that anyone could survive a fall to the rocks that waited unsympathetically below. However, it wasn't Giles Porter's job to understand why Baxter was alive. His task was to discover whether the young man's wife had pushed him to the brink of death. All the detective knew for certain was that Rena had lied to him. Either she didn't attempt CPR to revive her husband, or she thought he was dead and told the detective Baxter's body was cold by the time she reached the bottom of the waterfall. The former lie could be the product of someone who wanted to look like a heroine but wasn't. The latter was the type of mistake made by an overconfident criminal.

Rena's other reactions were equally ambiguous: her reaction to the news of her husband's survival, inappropriately wanting to avoid the detective's questions, and hiding behind the female lawyer who conveniently showed up at the hospital right before the detective was going to turn up the pressure. Porter couldn't read another person's mind but had a skill almost as valuable—the ability to make people think that he could. He sensed Rena's fear, and it attracted him like a shark to a widening pool of blood in the ocean.

He knelt down and let the water rush over his fingers. It was cold. More leaves had fallen from the trees since Rena and Baxter had been here. He closely inspected the ground, not sure what he might find, but checking out of habit. Amidst the pebbles he found a piece of cork that could have come from the bottle of wine the Richardsons drank. He picked it up and put it in a Ziploc bag.

Expanding his search, he carefully inspected the ground around the nearby boulders. Nothing caught his eye, and he returned to the overlook. Near the place where the open area gave way to scraggly trees he saw a piece of wood lying on the ground. It was too straight and thick to have fallen from one of the nearby trees. He picked it up. It was a rough walking stick that a hiker had brought to the waterfall and then abandoned or misplaced. On closer inspection, he saw that a few bits of bark had peeled from one end, and the other was dirty and slightly splintered from contact with the ground.

A hiking stick would be useful on the way back to the parking lot. In their brief conversations, Rena hadn't mentioned anything about sticks amid the stones of the overlook. It would be a topic he'd like to bring up the next time they talked.

30

Ill weed groweth fast.

JOHN HEYWOOD

A
lexia lugged the last box into her new office and dropped it on the floor. She was tired. Boris could forget swimming in the ocean this evening. The receptionist for the real-estate office buzzed her, and Alexia picked up the phone.

“Yes?”

“Uh, Ms. Lindale, someone is calling for Alexia Lindale.”

“That's me. I should have told you. Who is it?”

“Rena Richardson.”

Alexia found the notes she'd taken during her conversation with Dr. Draughton.

“I'll take it.”

Rena spoke first. “I've been trying to reach you, but I didn't want to leave a message. Did you talk to the doctor?”

“Sorry, I've been moving my files and touching base with my other clients. Yes, I had a very productive talk with Dr. Draughton. He knows a lot about head injuries and has the expertise to offer an opinion about Baxter.”

“Will he help us?”

“Definitely. And if a judge wants to believe his testimony, he will support an order terminating life support.”

“That's great, uh, good.”

“Of course, there will be other opinions from other doctors.”

“I know, but now you have enough to file the petition.”

“Yes, I'll work on it tomorrow. When are you going back to Greenville?”

“I'm not sure. I called the hospital today and spoke to one of the nurses in ICU. She pulled Baxter's chart and told me there was no change in his condition.”

“Has your father-in-law returned the money to your bank account?”

“Not yet, but tomorrow is the day he promised it would redeposited.”

Alexia twisted the phone cord in her hand. “I found out that Ezra and Jeffrey were at Leggitt & Freeman yesterday. They spent a couple of hours with Ralph Leggitt, but I don't know what they talked about or did.”

“Jeffrey said he had to go to a meeting.”

Alexia couldn't resist a gentle probe. “Have you been talking with Jeffrey?”

“Yeah, a little bit. He's been very nice.”

“Have you asked his opinion about terminating Baxter's life support? He could be a witness for us.”

Rena didn't immediately answer. “Would it matter what he thought? His father and I are the ones who disagree.”

“Maybe. Jeffrey is Baxter's brother, so he has a right to express an opinion. His viewpoint would be thrown into the mix of things the judge would consider, but it wouldn't be given as much weight as your wishes.”

“I could ask him, but right now I don't think he wants to get directly involved in the dispute over Baxter's care. He's more concerned with his father's use of the power of attorney to take all my property. He thinks I should file something on that first.”

“It's not necessary to file anything if Ezra puts back the money and hasn't done anything else.”

“But we don't know what else he's done.”

Alexia paused. “That's why we need the information from your source.”

“Okay. I'll work on it and find out what I can.”

“Good. When I finish the petition, I'll need you to sign a verification that everything in it is true. Do you know where Rachel Downey's office is located?”

“No.”

Alexia gave her directions. “I'll call you as soon as it's ready tomorrow.”

By noon of the following day, Alexia had turned her makeshift office into a temporary command center. She bought a powerful computer, a new printer, and a fax machine. The equipment sat on a swirled cherry stand that matched the executive desk she'd selected and placed on hold for delivery to her new office. The expensive desk and computer stand had been gathering dust at the local office supply store for several months, and the owner was more than willing to let Alexia make interest-free payments. She didn't pick out a secretarial desk and chair. That privilege would fall to Gwen so she could express her own taste in the furniture that would occupy her home away from home.

A large desk blotter covered the scratched surface of Alexia's temporary desk, but she'd brightened up the room with an arrangement of fresh-cut flowers in a vase that she put on the left front corner. Before her was the promised letter from Ralph Leggitt confirming the dismissal of the criminal charges against Rena. Rachel Downey knocked and poked her head in the door.

“Hey,” she said. “You work fast. This room hasn't looked this nice since forever. The last tenant in here was a man who bought and sold soybeans.”

Alexia looked up. She'd been typing the first draft of the petition to terminate Baxter Richardson's life support.

“That explains why I've found several beans on the carpet.”

“Sorry. It was supposed to be vacuumed.”

Alexia patted her new piece of furniture. “Do you like the computer stand? I've placed a hold on a matching desk.”

Rachel walked over and stroked the reddish wood. “It's classy. Feminine, yet businesslike.”

“I think it will look nice in the new office.”

Rachel snapped her fingers. “And I know some wallpaper that will work perfectly. I'll get you a sample. Is everything moving forward on the loan?”

“Yes.”

“Good. There were two people standing behind you who wanted to buy the house. You slipped in under the wire.”

Alexia opened the top drawer of the desk and took out a check. “Here's five thousand dollars as earnest money on the contract. I was going to give it to you yesterday, but you were out of town. I'm meeting with my contractor this evening, and I hope he will be able to start ASAP.”

Rachel took the check. “Thanks. You'll never guess who else was interested in the house.”

Alexia thought for a moment. “Ralph Leggitt? He knew I'd bought it and claimed it was because he kept up with everything that happened in Santee.”

Rachel nodded. “Yep.”

“What a snake.”

“If you'd hesitated, he could have fixed it up and rented it to you.”

Alexia moved her chair and heard something crunch. She leaned over and picked up a smashed soybean. “I'd rather work in a soybean patch.”

When Rachel left, Alexia put the finishing touches on the petition and called Rena's cell phone. Rena answered on the second ring.

“The petition is ready, and I'm typing the verification,” Alexia said. “When can you come by to sign it?”

“I'm on my way. I want to stop by the bank first. The money is back in my account. I'm going to take it out and put it in a separate account that's only in my name.”

“Was all of it returned?”

“Yes, plus several thousand extra.”

“That's quite a turnaround. Did he call you?”

“No, which is a relief. Never knowing what he might say or do drives me crazy. I know he's a smart businessman, but I think he's mentally unstable.”

Alexia remembered the sound of Rena's distraught voice on the phone but didn't debate with her which Richardson had the more precarious emotional equilibrium. “I received written confirmation of the dismissal of the criminal charges this morning,” she said. “But continue to avoid your father-in-law. It would only make him furious if you have a cordial conversation one minute and serve him with the petition to terminate Baxter's life support the next.”

“Yeah, I really don't want to talk to him.”

Thirty minutes later, Alexia and Rena were sitting side by side in one of Rachel Downey's conference rooms. Rena was reading the petition.

“Why doesn't it mention Dr. Draughton?” she asked as she turned over the first page.

“We don't have to identify our expert witnesses in the pleadings.” Alexia reached across the table and pointed to the top lines of the second sheet. “It's covered in the paragraph that states: ‘
The greater weight of competent medical evidence supports a determination that Baxter Richardson is in a persistent vegetative state or other condition of permanent unconsciousness which renders continuation of extraordinary life sustaining measures contrary to generally accepted medical practices and the express instructions made by him in the Declaration of Desire for a Natural Death, a true and correct copy of which is attached hereto as Exhibit A.'
If the other side wants to know who is going to testify, I'll tell them. Because it's an expedited request, there won't be time for formal discovery and depositions prior to the hearing, and I don't want the judge to exclude a witness because I tried to sandbag the other side.”

“Formal discovery? What's that?”

“Written questions about the case. The law gives thirty days for answers, and I want to schedule a hearing within seven to ten days. There won't be time for either side to find out much before going to court so there may be some surprises.”

“What kind of surprises?”

Alexia shrugged. “We suspect Dr. Berman and Dr. Kolb will not support termination of life support as strongly as Dr. Draughton, but from what you told me, they will have to admit that Dr. Draughton is an expert in the field. Otherwise, they wouldn't have called him in for a consultation. Your father-in-law can probably find another medical authority in the field of head injuries who will disagree with Dr. Draughton. Plenty of doctors are out there for hire in every specialty. It's a big business.”

Rena read to the end of the petition. Alexia watched her face, looking for an emotional reaction to the implications of the petition for Baxter. She saw nothing. Rena was more businesslike than in any of their previous meetings and showed no hint of either revenge or sorrow.

“I want to make sure I understand this last part,” Rena said.

Alexia looked at the place where Rena had placed her finger. “That's the prayer for relief. We're asking the judge to enter an order taking Baxter off the ventilator and terminating the feeding tube and hydration via an IV.”

“Okay,” Rena said. “That's what I want to do.”