Sins of the Father (16 page)

“Helen, have you heard a word I said?”

Didn’t matter. I sucked in a deep breath.
“This is going to be very difficult for you to hear, Daddy, and I’m
not even sure how to… find the words.”

“Just say it, honey. There’s nothing you
could ever say that would make me love you less.”

“No, but it might make you hate Marie more.
I know that would pretty much mirror what I’m feeling right
now.”

“It is well deserved, I can assure you.”

Words began tumbling from my lips. When Dad
recoiled at urgent confessions of recent events that resulted in my
DNA being collected from beneath a dead man’s fingernails, I
reached over the table and gripped his hands. I plunged forward.
Abducted twin, a girl, Darkwater Bay, born eleven minutes after
midnight on June second almost 39 years ago, a nurse under the
alias Martha Henderson, child never recovered. Fast forward to a
couple of weeks ago. Celeste Datello, my speedy retrieval of her
missing infant, the dead Filipina girl on the beach, human
trafficking, our routine search for other abducted infants, the old
case from Saint Mary’s.

Andy Gillette, my abduction, the assertion
that this was not the first time I’d been sold, and the name,
Martha Henderson dropped as casually as
God bless you
after
a stout sneeze. I explained what I suspected, how I’d met the man
who was biologically my father and despised him on sight, the cigar
stub that Maya tested, the results of the mitochondrial DNA that
proved definitively that Crevan Conall and I did in fact share a
mother.

“Daddy, I love you with all my heart. Tell
me you knew nothing about this. Tell me that Marie was every bit as
wretched and hateful as I know she was, and I’ll believe you.
You
are my father, and you always will be. I don’t care what
the science says this time.”

He gently pulled one hand free and wiped the
tears from his face. “Thank God she’s dead already. I’d have killed
her if I knew what she did.”

“You didn’t know. You didn’t…” Was the
feeling of overwhelming relief wrong?

“This family, the Conalls, are they good
people?”

I shrugged. “Compared to you? No. They’re
awful, wretched people who have basically disowned their only child
because he’s gay.”

“Christ,” Dad said. “Well, at least she
managed to take one who had a better life. Until she screwed that
up too.”

“Daddy, did she try to kill you that
night?”

“She did,” he said. “Though my quick
reflexes turned the tables on her.”

“What do you mean?”

“She would’ve hit the guardrail on my side
had I not grabbed the steering wheel and made sure she was the one
who bore the brunt of the impact. I was not stupid, Sprout. I knew
that the accident would put an end to Marie’s scheme to steal every
red cent she could get her hands on regardless of whether or not
she succeeded in killing me.”

“Marie didn’t realize that?”

“No. Not the brightest criminal on the face
of the earth.”

“Dad, why did you go along with her in all
of that?”

He cleared his throat. “There were other
things that I participated in, and she was aware of enough to use
that information as leverage.”

I nodded. He didn’t need to say anything
more. My father, the honorable hit man. “Did you take money for the
people you killed, Daddy?”

He hung his head. “Sometimes, Sprout.
Sometimes.”

“Were they all bad people?”

Our eyes met.

“Very bad. The worst.”

“Is that why you sent Johnny to one of Sully
Marcos’s businesses?”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “You miss
nothing.”

“He loves me, Dad.”

“Orion? Yes, that was pretty obvious. And
how do you feel about him?”

My hand slid down the front of my suit. “I
married him.”

“Oh honey –”

“I’m pregnant, Daddy.” More tears fell, mine
and his. “We’re having twins.”

“Sweetheart, it sounds like you have a
wonderful life now. What on earth are you doing here? If you needed
answers, you could’ve just come to me. There was no reason for this
elaborate ruse.”

“But there is,” I said softly. “I left my
life, Daddy. I left it for you.”

“Helen –”

“No, I cannot leave you here. I should’ve
prevented this travesty from happening in the first place. We
could’ve beat this charge if I’d used your money to hire the best
attorneys money could buy. It’s now or never, Dad. I’m about eleven
weeks pregnant. Showing already. Now or never.”

“Then you should’ve chosen never. I knew
there were risks to what I did, that with them came dire
consequences. I’ve accepted my life, Helen. I can’t be part of
something that puts your freedom at risk. I doubt Johnny would go
along with that either.”

“He has no idea what I’m doing. And if he
had the slightest idea, he’d stop me, Dad. Or at least try to.”

“So he has a good head on his shoulders
after all.”

“Please let me get you out of here.”

“Helen, look around you. This isn’t some
Podunk county jail out in Nowhere, Nebraska. This is Attica
Correctional Facility, one of the most storied prisons in the
history of the United States. I can’t just waltz out the door
because you think I don’t belong here. My window for an appeal has
passed, a very long time ago.”

“I know.”

“Honey, life without parole means that my
only way out is dead.”

I nodded. “That’s what I figured. So Dad,
you need to trust me.”

“Indeed. I wasn’t aware that was ever a fact
in question.”

“I’m getting you out of here, and yes, I’m
going to kill you to do it.”

Shock registered. “Helen!”

“Not… keep your voice down. They think I’m a
man. I don’t mean I want to literally kill you. Just… you know,
make you look dead enough to get you out of here.”

“I’m sure you’ve got some ridiculously
brilliant plan, but I’m telling you right now. It won’t work. In
the first place, even if I looked like I was dying, it would land
me in the infirmary.”

“This facility, like a lot of other prisons,
can provide the basics, even continuing care for chronic illnesses,
theoretically at least. They don’t have an ICU capable facility.
Trust me. You look sick enough, and they’ll send you out.”

“Life without parole. Why would they give a
damn if I die in here? It’s sort of the plan.”

“They can’t let you die from a treatable
condition. Trust me, Dad. There are people who monitor this kind of
stuff. If someone has to go out, EMS is summoned. You’re
transferred to a jail ward in a hospital, or have security posted
at your door if no such ward exists. I saw it all the time in my
residency.”

“You’re serious. Helen, this is insane. What
if they send one of the prison officers with me?”

“Doubtful. As sick as you’re going to
appear, they’re not going to worry about more than four point
restraints.”

“Which presents a problem as well. It might
be easier to get me out of a hospital –”

“You’re not going to the hospital, and
you’re not going to
really
be sick.”

“So, we’re planning to hijack an ambulance?
Helen, this is truly crazy.”

I filled him in on the rest of the plan.
“Ronnie and his brother in law are already putting the faux
ambulance together. The brother in law is a paramedic. Ronnie
trusts him.”

“That’s too many witnesses involved.”

“Believe me, Ronnie owes me a huge favor,
Dad. He owes me his life. He’ll do this, and absolutely, family
means something to him. He wouldn’t bring someone in that he didn’t
trust implicitly. Plus the brother in law will know exactly what
the prison officers expect from a transfer. It can work.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“What are they gonna do, add more years to
your life sentence?”

“I was thinking about the consequences for
my pregnant daughter. I don’t want my grandchildren born behind
bars. You shouldn’t want that either. If I went along with this at
all, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have to worry about surviving if we
get caught. You husband would kill me. Hell, he’d probably make it
look like the two of you were trying to stop my escape just to
protect you.”

“So you have nothing to worry about.”

“I have everything to worry about. It’s one
thing to accept consequences for myself, Helen. There’s no way I’d
knowingly put you in danger. This qualifies for the category of out
of the question.”

“I’ve got a plan. Everything is arranged.
I’ve got your passport, the jet to get us out of the U.S., tickets
to Europe, the ambulance, the medication, it’s all worked out,
Dad.”

“Okay, if I were to go along with this, and
we’re talking about a
very
big if, exactly what kind of
chemicals would you be pumping into me?”

“The initial crisis will be caused by an
anticholinergic agent. It’ll make you dry, hot, fast heartbeat, but
best of all, it’ll stump the hell out of them. That’s what gets you
to the infirmary. They’ll have to start an IV, because with the
high temperature without sweat, they’re gonna think that something
happened and you’re dehydrated.”

“Okay, and I’m assuming that the IV fluids
won’t correct my problem.”

“Maybe, maybe not. That’s not what’s
important. Do you think you could have sixty seconds alone with the
port on your IV?”

“I could probably have an hour alone with
it. The prison infirmary isn’t exactly a hotbed of overstaffing.
What am I going to be doing with the IV port?”

“Succinylcholine.”

Dad frowned. “I actually know what that is,
Helen. You’re talking about using a drug that’ll paralyze my
muscles and prevent me from breathing.”

“Exactly. They’ll at minimum put in an
airway and do rescue breathing so you don’t actually arrest, but
they can’t put you on a ventilator, which is what you’re going to
need.”

“I’m supposed to like this idea?”

“Dad, they’ll ship you out of here freaked
out and faster than you can bat an eye. The best part?”

“Let me guess. If I die, I don’t ever have
to come back.”

“Succinylcholine has a very short half life.
It’s gonna be completely worn off before the ambulance gets you to
the airstrip.”

“What if your ambulance doesn’t get here
before the drug wears off?”

“They’ll arrive in two to three minutes of
the call.”

“And if the nurse on duty in the infirmary
waits too long to call them?”

“She won’t. Dad, people in health care can’t
wait to turf a serious problem to the adrenalin junkies. They’re
not equipped to handle this sort of thing here. She’ll see you,
panic, pop in an airway and call for emergency services. We’re
talking a max of five minutes from the time you inject the drug
until you’re out of the facility.”

“This 9-1-1 call, won’t they be alarmed when
they show up to get me and I’m already gone?”

“Not a chance,” I grinned. “Ronnie’s taking
care of that too. There’s going to be an mishap involving the real
ambulance, he’s thinking something mechanical. They’ll have to call
someone else out.”

“And that’s when you perform the old
switcheroo. Hoping of course that nobody’s the wiser until it’s too
late.”

“With lights flashing, they can get to the
airstrip in ten minutes. Fifteen tops.”

“How will you know this emergency call is
placed?”

“That’s where you come into the plan. I
figure it’ll take about an hour for the anticholinergic to kick in
with the full effect. Wait until exactly thirty minutes before they
change shifts to take the pills. The place will be quiet, nothing
else going on. I’ll call Ronnie when I see the ambulance leave for
Attica before I rush to the airstrip.”

“You know how crazy this is, how dangerous
and absolutely fraught with failure –”

“Daddy, I have to try. Please.”

“Give me the pills.”

I slid the pouch and the syringe across the
table.

“This is why you needed to show up
pretending to be an FBI agent, isn’t it?”

“I had to tip the scales in our direction.
They asked for my gun, that was it.”

“Where is your gun?”

I grinned. “Dad, I retired. I don’t have a
sidearm anymore.”

“Promise me one thing, or the whole deal is
off, Helen.”

“What?”

“If something goes wrong, and odds are, it
will, you get on that jet and leave without me. If I’m not there
exactly thirty minutes after you call this Ronnie character, you
go. You get out fast.”

“Daddy –”

“Those are my terms.” He tapped the syringe
on the table. “Promise me, as the daughter who has never lied to
her father, and I’m in.”

“Fine, I promise, but it’s going to work,
Dad. This has to work.”

Chapter 15

I paced the tarmac outside the hangar at
Genesee Airfield. No more than five seconds passed between glances
at my wrist watch. Ten minutes. Eleven. Fourteen. Lights and sirens
should’ve made the fifteen and a half mile drive faster than
this.

“C’mon, Ronnie. Where the hell are you?”

My greatest fear was that Dad’s estimation
of the probability for success had been on the mark. I imagined two
worst case scenarios. One, he came out from the effects of the
succinylcholine too fast, and we were busted. Two, something went
wrong and those buffoons let him die.

I was milliseconds from tearing the cell
phone out of my purse to call Ronnie when the flashing emergency
lights hit my field of vision. “Oh thank God!” I ran to the stairs
leading to the cabin of the small private jet. “They’re almost
here! Start the engines!”

The copilot appeared in the doorway. “Yes
ma’am.”

The roar of ignition sounded behind me as I
dashed to where Ronnie and our pretend ambulance skidded to a halt.
The back doors of the van flew open. Ronnie’s brother in law helped
Dad out, Dad miraculously wearing street clothes instead of what
they’d given him in the prison infirmary.