Uncorked (36 page)

After apologizing to the twins
and saying goodbye, Mitch escorted her to the waiting cab at the restaurant
entrance.

As soon as she locked herself in
her condo, she called Detective Carter. She had so many questions. Who could
possible get access to that type of information? Her work email might be easy
to access, but only a handful of people knew her personal email address.
Detective Carter told her the IP address where the email was sent was a local
coffee shop in downtown San Diego. He obtained copies of the surveillance
cameras from the shop and would be stopping by the next day to see if she
recognized anyone from the video.

Chella made herself a cup of tea
to help calm her nerves. No matter how much self-defense training she had done,
she hoped she would never have to use it. The image of her dead with a knife in
her back was hard to get out of her head. Her thoughts were interrupted when
she heard someone tampering with the door. It immediately startled her, but
seconds later, Mitch walked through the door.

“Hi. Are you feeling better?” he
asked, kissing her lightly on the lips. “You look pale.”

“I’ll be okay. I made myself a
cup of tea. Would you like one?”

“No, thanks. The doctor called
during dinner with the twins. I start the injections tomorrow. They’re going to
do the transplant on Saturday.”

“That’s great. The girls must be
relieved.”

“They were. They said it was the
best birthday present they could have asked for.”

“You said this treatment might
have you feeling some flu-like symptoms?”

“Yes, I’m going to work from home
for the week. Someone will come over to administer the injections.”

“Are you sure that’s all that
you’ll feel?”

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart. I’ll be
fine.”

“Maybe you should stay with me
this week. That way I’ll be there if you need any help.”

“I don’t have any of my things.
Maybe you could pack a bag and come back with me tonight.”

She was about to agree when she
remembered Detective Carter would be coming by the next morning.

“No, I meet with Nathan for a
class here tomorrow morning. I can come by after that.”

“You know you can call him and
have him come over to my place instead.”

“It’s no bother. What time is
your first injection?”

“Eleven o’clock.”

“I’ll be there by then.”

“Are you okay, Chell? Something’s
not right with you.”

“I’m…” She considered telling
him, but she changed her mind. “I’m just a little tired.”

She felt guilty about lying to
him, but with all the crazy emotions, feelings and preparations he was going
through for this transplant, she didn’t want him worrying about her at a time
when he should be focusing on his health and his relationship with his family.

She was afraid that if he knew of
the events that had started over a week ago, it would complicate an
already-difficult situation. It was best to keep her mouth shut, and tell him
after it was all over.

“Why don’t I come lie with you
for a while? I’ll go home after you fall asleep.”

“If you like. Won’t you have
problems getting a cab?”

“Don’t worry about that.”

Detective Carter arrived
at eight the following morning.
He and Chella went through the video from the coffee shop, scanning the patrons
at the time the email was sent. Chella did not recognize anyone. Only four
people used computers around that time—two men and two women. Something about
one of the women seemed familiar, but Chella couldn’t put her finger on it. Of
the four people, the detective was able to get clear facial shots of three. The
remaining fuzzy profile belonged to the same woman Chella thought looked
familiar. She wore a hat, so it was not possible to see her hair color, and the
Audrey Hepburn sunglasses she wore covered most of her face.

“I’ll have the FBI run these
images through their facial recognition software to see if we can pull
anything. Mr. Stewart had two male visitors at the prison during that
timeframe, and we have both under surveillance. So far, both are coming up
clean.”

“A woman called me, and a woman
was on the boat. I have a feeling the woman we can’t identify in the coffee
shop is his accomplice.”

“You might be right. I’m going to
run these. I’ll send you copies of the images. Spend some time looking at them.
Something may trigger your memory.”

“I will. I’ll walk out with you.
Thanks for coming by.”

“Can I give you a ride
somewhere?”

“If you’re going past Mitch’s
place, I’m heading there.”

“I’ll take you.”

As they drove, Chella asked,
“Have you found out anything new in my parents case yet?”

“Discrepancies, signs of a
cover-up. Considering Mr. Stewart’s brother was the lead detective in the case,
more and more it’s looking like he’s responsible. I’m digging for a link
between Mr. Stewart and Mr. Gonzales. There are so many conflicting reports.
I’ve spoken to over half of the eyewitnesses on the scene. They all say the
driver of the truck ran the red light and never once tried to apply his brakes.
This is supported by the fact that there were no tire tracks on the road. The
driver claims the brakes were faulty, but police investigators never tested the
truck’s brakes after the accident. They just took Mr. Gonzales’s word for it.”

“Were there any street cameras?”

“Missing, along with the first
video recording with the driver after the accident. We’re tracking employees
from Mr. Stewart’s old job. So far, we have lists from two old jobs, but the
place he worked at the time of the accident is closed. We have to go through
alternative sources to see who their employees were at the time. Maybe he met
him at work or though someone at work. I’m checking all possibilities.”

“Where is Mr. Gonzales?”

“No one knows. After the
accident, he dropped off the radar. He pled guilty to involuntary manslaughter
and was sentenced to two years. After eight months, he was released on good
behavior.”

“Oh my God.”

“I have no proof—this is a
theory—but I suspect this man was paid to do the crime and paid to disappear.
All I can seem to find out about him is that he was an immigrant from El
Salvador.”

“Does the U.S. have an
extradition treaty with El Salvador?”

“Thankfully, yes. I’ve sent all
the information we have to their police. They’re trying to find him for
questioning. You’ll have to be patient though. It could take a while.”

“If I haven’t said it yet,
Detective, thank you. I really do appreciate your hard work on this case.”

“Just doing my job, Ms. Noon,” he
said, pulling up in front of Mitch’s building.

“Thanks for the ride. Enjoy the
rest of your day.”

“Same to you, Ms. Noon,” he
replied, waving goodbye.

Chella found Mitch
in his favorite outfit working
on his laptop in bed. She curled up beside him.

“Feel better today?” Mitch asked,
slipping one of her curly tendrils behind her ear.

“I do. How do you feel?”

“Honestly? Nervous. They’ve
already called to say they’re on their way. That gives me forty-five minutes to
change my mind.”

“You’re tough. You can do this.”

“Is that why I haven’t slept a
wink since last night?”

“You didn’t sleep because this is
a big deal. You’re about to save someone’s life. It’s normal. Not sleeping has
nothing to do with your strength as an individual.”

“You always know what to say.”

She smiled. “Do you need a
special diet?”

“Not really. Lots of calcium the
day before the withdrawal and a big breakfast on the morning of the
withdrawal.”

“Have you eaten yet?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I’m making you a smoothie. You
have to put something on your stomach.”

“Whatever you say, Boss.”

The procedure went
smoothly. By midafternoon, Mitch
fell asleep, giving Chella a chance to get some work done. Detective Carter
advised her to get a new personal email address but keep the old one active for
the purpose of evidence collection. Her work address she had no choice but to
keep. For now, she hoped and prayed no more emails would come.

She studied the images of the
people in the coffee shop, always returning to the woman in the sunglasses. Who
was she? Why would she be wearing such a large hat and sunglasses while indoors
on a computer? Chella was certain she was the accomplice. What about her was so
familiar?

With each day,
Mitch ached a little more. By
Friday, he told Chella he had a bad headache, so she was extremely surprised at
six o’clock that evening when he wanted to go to the hospital to see his
father. She wasn’t sure why, but she wanted to support him if that’s what he
felt he needed to do.

At the entrance to his father’s
room, Mitch grabbed her hand. His grip telegraphed to her to stay with him.
They entered the room. Olivia, Simone and their mother Theresa were seated next
to the bed, reading to Jude from the Bible.

His father lay in bed, eyes
closed.

Mitch had previously told them he
didn’t want to see his father. An awkward silence filled the room. Everyone
stared at Mitch. The pulse in Mitch’s hand fell into the same rhythm as the
beeping machines hooked to his father.

His father opened his eyes.

Mitch said something, but his
voice wouldn’t come. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“I’m still angry with you…and I
hate what you did to my mother…and even though I don’t think we’ll be able to
have a normal father-son relationship…I forgive you.”

A collective gasp filled the
room. His father cried.

The twins were in tears, as well.
Olivia wrapped her arms around her older brother. Chella was overwhelmed as she
witnessed the powerful moment.

She looked into Mitch’s eyes. He
looked relieved, like he had finally let go, but it also seemed like goodbye. A
last ditch effort to say everything he had to say, to leave nothing unsaid. He
pulled away from Olivia, clenched Chella’s hand and mouthed, “I’m ready to go.”

His father spoke. “Mitch, I just
want to say thank you. Thank you for this gift. Your forgiveness means the
world to me. It was an honor to know you and your mother. I’m sorry for the
pain I caused you both. Please tell her again, how sorry I am, and I wish her
only the best. She deserves it. You do, too.”

Mitch didn’t respond with words,
but took both his father’s hands in his and squeezed them gently.

Teresa said, “You are a very
special man. You have brought healing to our family in a way you could never
imagine, and for that, I will forever be grateful.” She kissed him on both
cheeks.

He embraced her then said
goodbye.

Seconds after he left the room,
Simone burst through the door, wrapped her arms around Mitch, and wept for what
seems like an eternity. Eventually, she pulled away, took his hands in hers,
kissed them and simply said, “Thank you.”

He kissed her on her forehead and
left.

In the privacy
of the empty elevator, Mitch
wrapped his arms around Chella tightly, buried his face in her neck and wept
silently. He finally let it go. He had forgiven his father, but also said a
final goodbye.

He felt free.

Mitch and Chella
arrived at the hospital bright
and early the following morning after he enjoyed the enormous breakfast she
served him in bed. She sensed he was still nervous. Holding him in a warm
embrace, she said, “You’re doing the right thing. I’m so proud of you. If you
need me at any time, I’ll be in the waiting room. I’m not leaving this hospital
without you.”

“I love you. Thank for being
here.”

“I love you, too,” she replied.

At eight o’clock, he kissed her
goodbye. She ventured to the waiting room where she would be for an agonizing
four to eight hours.

She had brought books, crossword
puzzles and her laptop, which she hoped would help her breeze through the day.
An hour later, the nurse came by to tell her the process had begun. They would
be monitoring him throughout the day and would be giving her regular updates.

Chella finished a report for
work, paced the floors, and chewed away her nails. Mitch wasn’t the only one
who was nervous that day.

At noon, the nurse suggested
Chella take a break and get something to eat, but she wasn’t hungry so she
continued to sit and wait. She watched the nearby television as the news of the
day came and went. In a few hours, it was over. Mitch was safely home. Over the
weekend, his side effects were bad, from headaches to dizziness, but by Monday
morning, he felt like himself again.