Uncorked (16 page)

“Why don’t you stay with me? At
least for tonight.”

“No. I can’t see you anymore,
Mitch. It’s over between us.”

“Chella, I refuse to accept
that.”

“Mitch, you have a mother who
would die for you and a daughter who loves and needs her dad. Put your energy
there. You have to leave me alone. You have to let me go.”

“Why won’t you talk to me? Why
won’t you trust me to help you?”

“It’s just not going to work out
between us. I’m sorry.”

She saw the hurt in his eyes. Her
heart broke as she saw the pain creep over his face. She needed to get out of
there—fast—if she was going to hold it together. She cupped his cheek in her
hand and kissed him softly on his lips.

“I’m leaving now.”

“Chella… wait.”

“No, Mitch, it’s over. I have to
go, they’re waiting for me,” she said then left, disappearing into the
bathroom. In the privacy of one of the stalls, she completely broke down and
cried.

Twenty minutes later, when she
had finally pulled herself together, Detective Carter waited for her in the
conference room.

“Did you escort him home?” Chella
asked.

“I did. He’s safe.”

“Thanks.”

“Let’s get you to your hotel
safely.”

“Thank you.”

After Detective Carter
dropped her off to her hotel,
Chella took a bath and tried to go to bed. She could not sleep. Neither could
she stop thinking about Mitch. Even though the hurt in his eyes broke her
heart, and she was heartbroken as well, she was doing it in his best interest.

After an hour of total
restlessness, she got up and decided to do some work. She switched on her
laptop. As she waited for it to boot, she opened the mail she and Mitch had
picked up earlier to distract her. The last envelope slipped from her hand and
fell to the floor. She reached to pick it up. It caught on fire.

Seconds later, it exploded.

Mitch lay in
bed, uncertain of what to think.
He knew Chella was holding back, keeping something from him, and she was trying
with all her might to force him away. In the last few weeks, he knew that this
had always been a possibility, but it hit him unexpectedly hard when she told
him it was over.

As he lay on his bed, re-playing
the weekend in his mind, he flipped through television channels aimlessly. A
caption at the bottom of the local news station caught his attention.

Breaking
News: Explosion at hotel near Coronado Island

He quickly turned up the volume.
As he listened to the news report, his instincts told him somehow Chella was
involved in this. One report stated an unconfirmed death of a young woman.

Mitch felt like all the blood had
drained from his body. His skin turned to ice. He speed-dressed while dialing
Chella’s number.

“Pick up…pick up…pick up.” No
answer.

Chella’s voicemail picked up.
After calling twice and leaving her two messages, he called Detective Carter,

“Carter here.”

“Detective? It’s Mitch. I was
just watching the news. Please tell me Chella is fine, and it’s just a
coincidence this happened at her hotel.” Mitch’s heart pounded as he waited for
his response.

“Mr. Mariani. Meet me at Sharp
Hospital on Coronado in twenty minutes.”

“Can you please just tell me if
she’s okay?”

“I’m not sure. I didn’t see her.
When the paramedics took her away, she was unconscious.”

“The news said there were
unconfirmed reports that a woman died?”

“The only person injured was Ms.
Noon. I spoke to the paramedics, and they told me she was unconscious but
alive. We have no idea how this happened. If she’s awake, I need to speak to
her.”

“I’m on my way…” Mitch replied.

He rushed through the busy San
Diego streets, his sweaty palms guiding the car as he clenched his fingers
tightly around the wheel.

When Mitch arrived at the
hospital, Detective Carter awaited him.

“Where is she? I need to see
her,” Mitch asked, out of breath.

“She’s with doctors right now. I
know she’s alive, though.”

“Thank God. How much longer
before the doctors come out?”

“Hard to say. I don’t know the
extent of her injuries.”

“How did this happen?” he asked,
raking his hand through his hair.

“I’m not sure. I dropped her off,
stopped to pick up some dinner. By the time I got back to the station, the call
came in.”

“Did you see the space? How big
was the explosion?”

“The damage was confined to her
room, most of it around her desk and the floor by her desk. It was powerful
enough to break the glass on the patio doors and windows. Did you notice
anything strange or do you know if she had any chemicals or anything that might
accidentally explode?”

“No. We were in Santa Monica for
the weekend, and we came back this evening. Soon after we got in, we called you
because of my vehicle.”

“Tell me exactly what happened
when you got back to San Diego.”

“We sailed in and anchored at
Shelter Island about seven. We cleaned and hosed down the boat, packed all our
stuff then headed to the vehicle when we saw the damage. Wait,” Mitch paused.
“Before that, we stopped at the front desk at Humphreys to pick up some mail
and a small package. She said she had received an email from the hotel manager
on Friday while we were at the airport telling her that she had some mail and a
small package at the desk.”

“Forensics is at the scene right
now, but it’s possible it might have been a letter bomb.”

“The letter and that package were
with us while we waited in the station conference room?”

“Did you see or did she say who
they were from?”

“No, I think there were three
letters. I remember her perusing through them, but she didn’t make any comments
about the senders. She didn’t say anything about the package, either.”

“Excuse me a sec. Let me make a
few calls and see if there may be video surveillance of those letters being
delivered.”

“He’s not going to stop until he
succeeds at killing her.”

Detective Carter nodded. “As of
now, this is no longer a stalking and vandalism case. It’s attempted murder.”

Mitch stepped away from the
detective while he made his phone calls to talk with one of the nurses.

“Is there any news or information
regarding Chella Noon?”

“Are you family?”

“She my girlfriend. She doesn’t
have any family.”

“I’m sorry. We can only give that
sort of information to her family.”

“But she doesn’t have any,” he
responded, clenching his teeth.

“I’m sorry, sir. Hospital
procedure.”

“Fine. Can you at least tell me
if she looked okay? Is she going to survive?”

The nurse smiled at him
apologetically then responded, “I’m no doctor, but I think she’s going to be
okay. She was able to talk when I left the room.”

“Thank God,” he replied then
thanked the nurse.

As he waited, he paced the floor.

God please let her be all right.

He sat for a moment and thought
about her and the growing deep feelings he had for her. He wanted her in his
life despite the fact that she had pushed him away. The last time he had lost a
girlfriend this early in the relationship, it was sad because it was an
unexpected death, but it didn’t hurt nearly as much as when Chella told him it
was over. Losing her in his life was one thing. Her being killed was an
entirely different sort of pain.

Aaron Stewart had become a daily
detriment to their lives and by extension, his family, and he needed to do
everything within his power to stop him. Maybe putting his picture on TV as a
wanted man or getting the FBI involved in this case was becoming necessary,
because in a short period of time he had been the cause of so much physical,
emotional and mental harm, not forgetting the thousands of dollars in damage he
was quickly racking up. Mitch suspected Aaron had access to money, as well. Was
it even possible to create a letter bomb on a low budget?

Detective Carter got off the
phone and approached Mitch. “Looks like we might have picked up some new camera
evidence. The good thing is, we have a positive ID on the suspect who delivered
that letter. We have a vehicle color, but we’re not certain on the make.
Tomorrow we’ll see what evidence we can pull from other surveillance cameras in
the neighborhood.”

“What about getting the FBI
involved? Put his face on TV or something?”

“We’re considering putting his
image on TV. It could only help. As of tonight, though, the FBI and the ATF
teams have the lead on the case.”

Mitch began pacing again. “Why is
it taking so long for the doctors to come out?”

“Wait here. I’ll see what I can
find out.”

In reality, it had been an hour.
To Mitch, the wait felt like a year. Eventually, the doctor came out and told
them they could come in to question her. To the hospital staff, Mitch must have
looked like a cop, because no one stopped him from seeing Chella.

When Chella saw
Mitch, she became overwhelmed.
She didn’t want him to get hurt because of his affiliation with her, but this
incident really scared her. On one hand, she was afraid but felt comfort when
she saw him; on the other, she wanted to keep him as far away as possible from
her. To say she had mixed feelings was an understatement.

He rushed to her side. “It’s good
to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, too.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“In a little pain, but okay for
now.”

“Doctor, is she going to be all
right?”

“Yes. She is very lucky. She’ll
be okay.”

Her right hand was swollen from
the burns. Most of the visible injuries were on her shoulder and left and right
arms, and she had a two or three inch cut on her left hand that required
stitches. Her whole body was covered with patches of black, blue and burgundy.
She could still feel the heat emanating from the burns despite the fact that
she had gotten treatment. When the letter exploded, flying glass and debris
ricocheted off her body. Some left cuts, others left bruises and a few pieces
embedded in her flesh. She had a throbbing headache, whose epicenter seemed to
be at the bump just above her temple. Presumably, the blast sent her airborne
and she hit her head when she landed.

“Ms. Noon keeps telling me she
wants to leave, but in her condition, the only way I’ll release her is into the
care of someone else. She must have help at home.”

Before the doctor could say
anything further, Mitch replied, “I’ll take responsibility for her. I’ll hire a
nurse if I have to.”

“Miss Noon, are
you okay with that?” the doctor
asked.

She looked at the doctor
hesitantly then Mitch.

“Yes. Thank you, Mitch.”

“I’ll get things started on the
discharge papers,” the doctor said, exiting the room.

“Ms. Noon,” said Detective
Carter. “I’m sorry that I’m here under these circumstances, but I need to find
out what happened.”

“I was opening some mail I picked
up earlier tonight. While opening it, the third one slipped from my hand and
fell to the floor. As I was leaning over to pick it up, it caught fire. By the
time I started backing away, it exploded.

“Do you remember who it was
from?”

“It looked like my normal bank
statement. Nothing about it struck me as odd.”

“The fact that it fell from your
hand and didn’t detonate immediately probably saved your life. The FBI is part
of the investigation now. By tomorrow, I’ll be able to confirm with you whether
or not we’ll release his picture to the media. I have to get back to the hotel.
I’m sending two cruisers to get you back to your home safely.”

An hour later,
they arrived at the penthouse.
After Mitch ensured Chella was comfortable in the guest room, he left her. He
told building security not to allow anyone up to the penthouse while he was
out. When he arrived at the scene, police were still around winding things
down.

Detective Carter met him in the
lobby with Chella’s packed bags. “Anything she didn’t get, it’s because it’s
being held as evidence. Mainly clothes.”

“What about her computer? I know
she’s going to need it for work.”

“Badly damaged in the blast. It
was taken into evidence, as well.”

“Do you think anything can be
recovered from it?”

“I doubt it, but I’ll have them
check. Remember that package?”

“Yeah, what about it?”