Resuscitation (22 page)

Beer-Man looked as though someone just told him that his entire family had been murdered. “Are you
fucking
serious? You’re going to operate on us like we’re some kind of lab rats?”

“I’d hardly call you lab rats. I’d rather think of you as martyrs.”

“We’re going to die, aren’t we?” Redhead asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“It’s not my agenda, but that, I’m afraid, may be the unfortunate outcome.”

Beer-Man pleaded again, his tone completely resigned. “Please, don’t do this. We have money in the bank for our wedding. About thirteen thousand dollars. You can have it all. Every penny. And I swear on my dead mother’s soul, we won’t say a thing to anyone.”

His comment enraged Julian. He had to teach Beer-Man a lesson. “You should
never, ever
swear
anything
on your dead mother’s soul!”

Julian stood over Beer-Man with a syringe in his hand. “I have to warn you that this is going to be terribly unpleasant. It can’t be helped. When I inject you with this drug, your muscles will be almost completely paralyzed. However, your nervous system will be very much awake.”

Beer-Man was now sobbing like a hungry newborn baby, rolling from side to side, trying to break free. “You’re a monster! A fucking monster!”

Julian tore off a piece of duct tape and carefully placed it over Beer-Man’s mouth.

Redhead, barely able to speak, made one last attempt to save her fiancé. “Let him go.
Please!
What about our deal?”

“We haven’t made a deal, remember?”

“I’ll make it worth your while. I promise.”

Dressed in scrubs, a scalpel in his hand, Julian prepared himself mentally to proceed. He had placed duct tape over Redhead’s mouth and turned the chair to face away from the bed. Why torment her by letting her observe her fiancé’s surgery? He’d already tortured her enough on the living room floor. He never thought it possible that anyone could please him more than Eva. But the tall redhead had come close. Apparently, fear of death brought out the raw animal in her. He had learned that her name was Rachael; family and friends called her Rae. How foolish she had been to think he’d have his way with her and simply let Beer-Man and her walk out the door. What was it about forcing himself on women that made it so pleasurable?

He had considered using a condom, but only for an instant. He had learned with Eva that nothing was more pleasurable than skin against skin. Besides, what difference did it make if the police harvested a sample of his semen? He was a model citizen, had never even gotten a parking ticket in his life. From a DNA perspective, Julian didn’t exist.

Not sure if Beer-Man’s vocal cords would be capable of making any sound, Julian wadded up some toilet paper and stuffed it in Redhead’s ears. If Beer-Man
was
capable of screaming, Julian couldn’t imagine that the makeshift ear plugs would suppress the violent screams. But it was better than nothing. After all, he wasn’t cold-blooded.

“Try to move your toes,” Julian said to Beer-Man.

Nothing.

“Move your fingers.”

Still nothing.

Julian glanced first at the IV bag to be sure the drip was adequate. Then he looked at the heart monitor. Except for a rapid heartbeat, which Julian expected, Beer-Man’s EKG looked normal. He pressed the scalpel against Beer-Man’s chest and looked into his wide-open eyes. Beer-Man stared at the ceiling, pupils fully dilated. No blinking and no eye movement at all. A steady stream of tears seeped out of his eyes.

He made a deep incision in Beer-Man’s sternum, from the manubrim, just below his neck, to the xiphoid process, two inches above his stomach.

Julian heard a strange gurgling sound coming from Beer-Man’s throat, an obvious reaction to the pain. The young man’s head and face were dripping with sweat. Julian again checked the heart monitor: 150 beats a minute. Prepared for this possible reaction, he grabbed a syringe he had already prepared, and injected Beer-Man with a strong dose of propranolol.

Julian studied the monitor.

139. 122. 109.

In less than five minutes, Beer-Man’s heart rate dropped to 87 beats a minute, a suitable level for Julian to continue.

He reached for the surgical saw. The level of pain he expected Beer-Man to endure when he cut through his sternum and then spread his ribs apart, would no doubt make the incision feel like a mere paper cut. Julian pulled down the plastic shield to protect his face from splattered blood, and began to cut. The deafening sounds coming from Beer-Man’s throat drowned out the sound of the circular blade ripping through his chest.

“This is Police Chief Larson.”

Sami had just stepped out of the shower, ready to dry her hair. Running a little late for her 9:00 a.m. class, she’d been thinking about blowing it off. She hadn’t cut a class since starting school, and if ever there was a time when she needed a break, today topped the list. “Good morning, Chief Larson.”

“I’ve spoken to Mayor Sullivan.”

By the formal tone in his voice, she suspected that his announcement would not be positive.

“As much as we’d love to have you back in homicide, it’s just not possible. At least for the time being. With the budget restraints and hiring freeze in place right now, we’d need special approval from the City Council
and
the mayor. And you worked here long enough to realize that the red tape involved with any major decision is like asking Congress to overturn a veto.”

She thought about debating the issue one last time, but felt it would be futile. Besides, Larson wasn’t the decision maker anyway. “I understand, Chief. And I really appreciate your efforts.”

Moments after hanging up, Sami felt overwhelmed with disappointment. Aware that the possibility she’d be reinstated as a detective was a long shot, she hadn’t set her expectations too high. But in spite of her cautious optimism, she had already mentally prepared herself to drop out of school; she saw herself in the thick of things again. Emotionally, she couldn’t handle school much longer. In fact, Chief Larson’s phone call made the thought of going to class this morning virtually unbearable. How had she gone from idealistic enthusiast to complete cynic in less than two years? She tried to tell herself that she was a victim of the system, that the system had tainted her. But she remembered something Captain Davidson had told her years ago: “There are no victims, only volunteers.”

There were few things she wanted right now more than skipping her class. But ingrained in Sami’s psyche was a profound sense of right and wrong. She was addicted to the principles her father had literally forced on her throughout her childhood and even into her adult life. In grammar school, she was a model student. She didn’t so much as steal a pencil. And in high school, not once had any teacher sent her to detention.

She almost called the administrative offices of San Diego University to alert them that she’d be missing her classes today. But her father’s voice whispering in her ear forced her to stay on the straight and narrow. She picked up the hair dryer instead of the telephone and did the right thing.

Julian walked in the front door and set his luggage on the floor. Before the door closed behind him, Nicole seemed to appear from nowhere.

“How was the conference?” Nicole asked, her voice edgy.

Julian saw something in Nicole’s eyes. “Boring. Glad it’s over.”

“I’ll bet you are.”

“Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed? No kiss. No hug. Nothing.”

“Where the hell have you been?” Nicole shouted.

“Are you seriously asking me that question?”

“Ted Hastings called while you were gone.
Doctor
Ted Hastings.”

Julian waited for the explosion. He didn’t have to wait long.

“There
was
no conference, Julian, you lying sack of horse-shit.” Nicole’s eyes glazed over. “Is it another woman?”

“Of course not.” Julian’s plan kicked into high gear. He carefully scripted his explanation. “Do you want the truth?”

“No. I want you to feed me a load of crap.”

“I drove up to Big Bear.”

“What the fuck for?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise. You love it up there, especially during ski season. So, I tried to buy a little cabin. I wanted it to be a birthday present.” Wow, he thought. His ability to lie with a straight face almost scared him.

Nicole seemed to be processing the information. “And did you buy one?”

Julian shook his head. “It was a private sale and the guy wouldn’t budge on the price. It was about a hundred K more than we could afford.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“Have I ever given you reason to distrust me?”

“Just because I haven’t caught you lying doesn’t mean you haven’t.”

“I’m telling you the truth.”

“Okay then. I’ve got an idea. I’m a much better negotiator than you, so give me the guy’s name and phone number and
I’ll
work him over on price.”

Julian recognized that Nicole was testing his story. “Don’t bother. There are plenty of properties for sale—especially the way the economy is right now. We’ll take a leisurely ride up there together for a weekend. It won’t be a surprise, but—”

“You are so full of fucking shit.” Nicole moved toward Julian, her chest touching his, her face inches from his. “What’s the bitch’s name?”

“Look, I’m sorry that I had to lie. But I really wanted to surprise you.”

“Oh, you surprised me all right.” Nicole stormed out of the room and two-stepped it up the stairs.

“Where the hell are you going?” Julian shouted.

“I’m taking the kids and driving up to see my parents. I need time to think.”

Julian had to employ all his willpower not to grin like a crazy man. He loved a well executed plan. A little elaborate, perhaps, but it worked. With Nicole and the kids out of the way, he could continue with his research.

“It’s bad, Sami. Really bad.”

She tried to squint the clock radio into focus, but couldn’t quite make out the time. The dark room suggested early morning. She had never heard Al’s voice so desperate. She closed her eyes, hoping that the worst hadn’t happened. “What’s going on?”

“Aleta’s latest brain scan shows very little brain activity—less than the last EEG. Technically, she’s not brain-dead, but as close as you can get.”

“But there’s still hope?”

“Very little.”

Sami wanted to cry, but if she did, she believed it would make things even more difficult for him. She choked back the tears. “I’m so, so sorry, Honey.”

“If the EEG goes flat, as the only living relative I have to decide whether or not to pull the plug.” He now sounded angry. “Can you fucking believe it? I have to decide whether or not my sister lives or
dies
.”

“I can’t even imagine what it must feel like.” Sami wished she could comfort Al, but what could she possibly say to soothe his pain? “As soon as we hang up, I’ll check airfares and see how quickly I can get a flight out.”

“I appreciate it. Really. But you’re a few weeks away from finals—”

“Fuck finals. You’re more important.”

She could hear him breathing into the phone.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Please, Sami, it’s thoughtful of you, and I love you for it, but there is nothing you can do for me. Your mom just had bypass surgery. She needs you more than I do.”

She realized that he was right, but oh, how she wanted to argue. “Listen to me. Emily can take care of my mom better than I can, so—”

“No, Sami. Please.”

She thought about standing her ground, but the last thing she wanted was to put him under more stress. “If anything—anything at all happens, if you need to speak to me, don’t you dare hesitate to call. Understand?”

“Thank you, Samantha Marie.”

After taking a long hot shower, Julian wrapped a terrycloth robe around his body, slicked back his wet hair, and headed for the wet bar in the family room. He poured himself a tall glass of Johnny Walker Blue and sat in his favorite recliner, enjoying a rare opportunity to savor the peaceful serenity of his home.

Under normal circumstances, watching his daughters drive away with Nicole for a trip to LA would nearly bring him to tears. But, with the prospect of finding another subject for his research, he had found himself curiously excited when Nicole backed the Range Rover out of the driveway, even though he had no idea when he’d see his family again. When he had waved goodbye to his daughters, he hadn’t felt the same emptiness he’d felt in the past.

In spite of the perfectly tranquil setting and the numbing effect of the Scotch, turbulent emotions stirred in Julian. It had been so easy for him to lie to Nicole about the supposed conference in LA. And he further extended the lie by manufacturing a story about Big Bear. He felt no guilt about lying, and this was a first for him. Something strange was happening. It felt as if he was going through a bizarre metamorphosis. A real-life Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Had he become so fanatical with his research project that it had taken hold of him? Altered his value system? Was his desire for fame and recognition so overpowering that he was willing to risk everything?