Pieces of the Puzzle (12 page)

“Don’t shoot me, please don’t shoot me.”

Scott pulled the gun back. “And?”

“You ever been on the Apollo system?”

“A few times, planning the dream vacation with the first-class seating assignment that I’ll never go on, and the one you’ll
never go on if you don’t stop stalling.”

“See, that’s what I thought. After I met you that first time, I said to myself, this guy just isn’t the hacker type. I mean
you don’t have any idea what the Cuckoo’s Egg is or who wrote it. You’re not a hacker, you couldn’t have been the one accessing
Apollo as a super user: QED.”

“And the English translation is?”

“Someone logged onto Apollo illegally as a super user and input dozens of airline reservation transactions. I traced the calls
to your computer in Baltimore. At least, I thought that was the termination point. Maybe I was wrong, but I’m not usually
wrong about that type of thing.”

“You’re telling me someone committed fraud using my computer?”

Ken nodded his head. “That’s what I’m telling you. Even better, they left footprints all over the place directing me back
to you, almost as if they were inviting me to find the tampering.”

“How did you find me in Miami?”

“It was the only reservation from Baltimore. I figured the others were bogus transactions and you were just joy riding in
the ether.”

Scott holstered the gun. “And what am I supposed to do with you now?”

“I figured if I watched you long enough, you’d lead me to your accomplices.”

“So I’m still a suspect?”

“Not you, but someone you know.”

“I work for the federal government—”“Are you FBI? It was a local case when I started, honest. I would’ve told someone eventually—”“Ken,
I could give you a number to call and they would verify anything you need to know, but I don’t think I need to do that, do
I?”

Ken’s eyes lit up. “Are you working on a case? I could help, you know. If there’s a computerized record, I can get into it.”

“Ken, go back to Miami Beach, go back to Hawaii, go somewhere. Stop chasing things you’re not going to find. You understand?”

Ken said he did. Just to make sure, Scott walked Ken to his car. When Ken drove away, Scott followed. He made sure Ken was
headed to Miami before he drove back to the Orange Tree Restaurant. He watched the place from a bench near a phone booth across
the street until the restaurant closed around nine, and passed some of that time calling the Johnsons and Wellmen that lived
within sixty miles of Summer Haven. Both endeavors turned out to be a waste of time, and Friday morning found Scott parked
in a vacant lot where he had a clear view of the gates of Meadow Park.

Helen was still in town. Scott could feel it. Scott had traced Helen’s every step since Miami Beach and this felt like the
end of the line. Maybe she had found Jessica, but somehow he didn’t think so. Jessica was dead, and his certainty about this
was unsettling even to him.

Something here made the sisters feel safe. All he had to do was find out what that something was and in the meantime before
revelation came, he would stake out the cemetery and the Orange Tree. Especially since the chances were very good that Helen
would return to one or the other sometime soon. He had staked out weird places before, but a cemetery was definitely near
the top of the list.

He was half asleep behind the wheel when the groundskeeper’s son opened the gates of Meadow Park. He scratched absently at
his right temple and watched the sun rise into the sky. He returned to the Orange Tree for lunch and showed the picture of
Helen and Jessica to everyone in the restaurant. No one offered to help. He watched the restaurant from across the street
until three and was about to drive back to the cemetery when he thought of Cynthia, and eventually, Glen.

Glen wasn’t entirely pleased to hear his voice.

“Scott, where have you been? Do you know how long—forget that, I don’t want to know, just tell me where you are now. Where
are you?”

Scott moved the phone away from his ear. “Summer Haven.”

“Summer Haven? You found something, tell me you found it.”

Scott rubbed his right temple as a muscle beside his eye started pulsating. “How’s Cynthia?”

“Did you find something or not? We don’t have a whole hell of a lot of time left. Ten days, ten days is all we have. Wellmen
will be in Maui on the 24th.”

“What are the doctors saying?”

“Your leads came through, you know. XWEH is Kexian Wong Enterprises of Hawaii, an import-export company based in Honolulu.
Jessica had tickets from Miami through Atlanta, Houston, Denver, Las Vegas and LAX to Honolulu. A change in planes, airlines
and names with every stop. Pretty amazing we were able to track it down but we did have the departure time and were pretty
sure about the destination.”

Scott shook his head, switched the phone to his right ear. “Back up, you lost me.”

“Tell me straight up if you have anything because if you don’t I want you in Honolulu, yesterday.” When Scott didn’t say anything,
Glen continued. “I’ll take the silence as a no. I know you lost track of Helen, and I have every reason to believe Jessica
made the trip to Honolulu. We have baggage checks, seating confirmations, all the way through to Honolulu on the 4th of December.”

“The 4th? What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’ll make the reservations for you.”

“First tell me what you aren’t telling me, and I’ll make my own reservations, thank you very much.”

“What makes you so certain I’m not telling you something?”

“Because it’s the truth, isn’t it?”

“Her luggage was never claimed in Honolulu, and it’s still at the airport.”

“That’s what I thought. I don’t think she ever left Miami.”

“Scott, call me when you get to Honolulu. I’ll fax you authorization to pick up the luggage.”

“What else?”

“What else, what?”

“What else aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing you don’t already know. Jessica left on the 4th and was scheduled to return on the 10th, but you already knew that.
Call me when you get to Honolulu.”

The phone went dead. Scott rushed back to the car and took the Rand McNally map of Florida out of the glove box. It didn’t
take him long to decide on Jacksonville International. Jacksonville was only an hour away, at most, an hour and a half to
the airport. He was almost to Jacksonville when something Glen said clicked. Glen had told him he knew Jessica’s departure
time from Miami, but if she had left on the 4th and planned to return on the 10th, what he had given Glen was the departure
time from Honolulu. There was a rest area ahead. He stopped.

He found a phone, dialed Glen’s home number. It rang three times before someone picked it up. He shouted into the mouthpiece,
“What aren’t you telling me, you son of a bitch?”

It was a woman’s voice and not Glen’s that replied. She was crying. “Scott?”

“Who is this?”

“I don’t have time to talk, Glen’s upstairs. Scott, come back to Baltimore.”

“Is this Janet? What’s wrong?”

“Scott, just come.”

“Is it Cynthia, has something happened?”

“He’s been lying to you. She’s not getting better. They called Father Joseph…” Her sobs grew so loud he couldn’t make out
what she was saying. “… I got to go.”

“Don’t hang up, don’t hang up, don’t hang up! Janet? Janet?”

Janet’s voice was so weak that Scott could barely hear what she said, and then even as he strained to hear, he wished to God
Almighty that he hadn’t heard anything. He dropped the phone, got into the car and as soon as the car was pointed toward the
highway, he stamped on the accelerator and never slowed down and Janet’s voice never stopped echoing in his ears. Hours later,
aboard the flight to Baltimore, her words still echoed over and over and over.

Baltimore, Maryland
Sunday,

16 January

There was a pair of black pants in the closet that seemed a better match for the jacket he planned to wear. He removed and
discarded the brown khakis he was wearing and put on the pair of pants from the closet. Beside the empty hanger was a two-foot
leather cord which he folded into the left front pocket of the pants, then started down the stairs. He called out to Janet,
“These pants all right, dear?”

She emerged from the den. He watched her hide her anxiety with a smile. “Yes, those definitely are better.”

He nodded to the jacket hanging on the coat rack in the foyer. He followed her as she walked to the front door. She helped
him put on the jacket and brushed off the lint with her hands. She had the hands of an angel, her touch soft, hands smooth
and cool as silk. She pressed up against him and kissed his cheek. He ran his right hand along her cheekbone, while his left
hand caressed the leather cord.

There was an oak bench next to the front door. Glen sat on it and started to put on his shoes. “The keys are in the kitchen,
will you get them?”

Janet walked into the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink before we go? I could use one for the road, how about you?”

He tied his shoes quickly, and quietly made his way to the kitchen. She had the refrigerator door open and was rummaging around—probably
looking for the wine he had finished off yesterday. He came up behind her, grabbed her around the waist with both hands, then
swept her arms out spread eagle, pushing her body up against the refrigerator shelves and thrusting his own body tight against
hers.

Janet moaned and twisted her head in an attempt to look at him. “I’m not in the mood.”

Glen thrust her head against the top shelf with one hand and with the other, lifted up her skirt. “I am.”

“But Cynthia—” “What do doctors know anyway?” He unzipped his pants with one hand, reached for the cord with the other.

“I want to be there, someone has to be there for her.” Janet started crying and sank to her knees.

Glen rubbed his fingers across the soft leather in his sweated hand. He eased the cord out slowly, wrapped one end around
his left hand tight enough so he could feel the blood flow to his fingers ebb, then did the same to his right hand. He stretched
the cord out taunt, heard the wonderful snap mix in with Janet’s sobs.

He kneeled down behind her, looking down at her as he did so and knowing in an instant he shouldn’t have. He didn’t want it
to end this way. He wanted it to end the way it began. Why couldn’t it end the way it began? Why did she have to mess things
up? Why did she have to break into tears now?

He closed his eyes, inhaled, and all the while, Janet’s sobs lashed at him. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he stood stiffly,
stuffed the cord into his pocket and helped her to her feet. “I’ll drive. There’s a bottle of muscatel in the cabinet, I know
you love muscatel. Get the bottle, I’ll get the corkscrew.”

He beat on the door until Edward opened it. Edward’s usual long, somber face looked even more somber. Edward said, “Sir, you’re
home. Thank God.”

“Where is C?”

“The sitting room—”He swept past Edward, ran through the house. The door to the sitting room was closed. Scott thrust it open,
didn’t slow down, and nearly knocked over Mr. Simons as he stumbled into a room filled corner to corner with hospital equipment.
Dr. Haskins and Father Joseph were standing near the bed. He pushed past them to the bedside.

He didn’t see the wires or the machines keeping Cynthia alive.

He saw only Cynthia, the beautiful woman he had married. He grabbed her hand and wept into the layers of bandages covering
her head. For a moment, he felt a hand on his shoulder, then later, someone pushed him into a chair. He sat, but didn’t let
go of Cynthia’s hand.

Vaguely he heard the door open and close a few times. He heard voices as if through a dream—Glen’s, Janet’s, Mr. Simons’,
Father Joseph’s, Dr. Haskins’, Edward’s. All the voices mixed into a rush of noise that made his head pound, then everything
became quiet and only Mr. Simons was standing beside him. Scott looked up at him. “How long?”

Mr. Simons put his hand on Scott’s shoulder. “It’s only the machines, my baby is gone. I asked Dr. Haskins to shut them off.

We were about to do that when you arrived.”

Scott started shaking, a tremor that went from his feet to his clenched hands. “You what? What are you telling me? What gives
you the right? What gives you the right?”

Scott reached out to grab Mr. Simons’ jacket by the lapels.

Mr. Simons took a step backward. “I’m her father. You can’t know how terribly hard this is.”

“How terribly hard?” Scott kicked at the chair beside him, sending it crashing into the wall. “I’m her husband, get out of
my house! You plan to turn off these machines, you’ll have to kill me first . . .”

Mr. Simons tried to put a hand on Scott’s shoulder. Scott backed away. Mr. Simons repeated, “It’s only the machines, my baby
is gone.”

Dr. Haskins and Father Joseph started into the room. Scott glared at them through wild eyes and clenched teeth. They backed
out. Scott looked Mr. Simons in the eye, unclenched his teeth, took a deep breath and forced the tremor to stop. “I want the
nursing staff back from wherever you sent them. I want to see all of Dr. Haskins’ charts right after you fire the bastard.
Now!”

“Scott, it won’t help anything, you can’t imagine—”“Oh, can’t I? If it won’t help anything, then it won’t hurt anything either,
will it?”

“Scott—”“Screw you!” Scott pushed past Mr. Simons and walked into the hallway. He looked directly at Dr. Haskins. “Call the
nursing staff, tell them to return, then get out of my house! Don’t ever come back, do we understand each other?”

Dr. Haskins turned to Mr. Simons. Mr. Simons nodded. As the doctor made a phone call, Scott walked over to the bewildered
Father Joseph. “You were always Cynthia’s favorite priest. Say a prayer for her.”

Father Joseph loosened the grip on his bible. “I will, and for you as well.”

Scott gestured with his hands, pointing down the hall. “I’d leave now if I were you, follow Dr. Haskins. Edward will show
you both out. Mr. Simons, why don’t you go with them?” It was more of an order than a request. “You’ll be the first to know
if Cynthia’s condition changes, so you don’t need to come back or call. Clear on that?”

Edward, who was now standing behind Scott, grinned. “I should think so, sir.” Edward turned to Mr. Simons and the others.
“Shall I show you gentlemen out? Mr. Simons, surely you know the way.”

As he walked away, Mr. Simons muttered, “Don’t forget who pays your salary, Edward.”

Edward replied, “Never, sir.”

Scott nodded absently and walked back to the sitting room.

Everything that happened afterward was a blur. He forgot about Helen, Jessica and everything else that had happened. The hours
slipped away, the growing stubble on his cheeks the only thing that told him days were slipping away.

The nurse returned. He didn’t look up, but knew who it was because for the past three nights she said, “Good evening, Mr.
Evers, I brought you some soup. Made it myself, chicken noodle.

I reckon it’s still right hot.”

He nodded absently and held Cynthia’s hand a little tighter. “If you don’t start eating, we’re going to put you in a bed next
to her.”

He beaded his eyes. “Maybe that’s where I want to be.” The nurse put a hand to her mouth, set the soup on the table beside
him, then rushed out of the room. The smell of chicken soup wafted to his nose but he wasn’t going to let go of Cynthia’s
hand, not just yet. He rose and kissed her cheek. With his free hand, he brushed back a little tuft of hair from her eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered in her ear, “I love you.”

He heard someone walk up behind him, didn’t respond to the purposefully spoken “Hello.” Instead he nodded to the soup and
said, “Take it with you and get out of here!”

“You’re wasting precious time sitting here when the bastards who did this to her are still walking the streets.”

“I don’t give a damn about John Ellis Wellmen, I only want my life back!”

Glen grabbed Scott about the shoulders. “Keep your voice down. Your anger is self-defeating. He’s got you eating out of his
hand. God, if only you could see that. You want your life back, take it back.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve been sitting on your thumb for the past three—”“My little excursion to Honolulu was a bust. I don’t
have your instincts. I brought back the suitcases, I want you to look them over with me.”

Scott nodded to Cynthia. “I’ve got my hands full at the moment.”

“Janet’s in the hall, I’ll ask her to come in and sit with Cynthia.” Glen coaxed Scott to his feet. “It’ll be all right. You
need to think about something else for a while.”

“Go screw yourself.”

***

Scott sat by the bed and tried not to listen to Janet. Glen had left the room in a huff and sent Janet in a few minutes later.
When Scott couldn’t take her yapping anymore, he blew up at her and was now trying to make an apology. “I really do appreciate
what you did, I really do—”

“I’m afraid of him, Scott,” Janet admitted. “He’s been acting like a caged animal the past few days. He stares at the walls.
You know the leather-bound books that line the shelves in his library? He’s been collecting them all his life, and now he’s
burning them in the fireplace. If you don’t want to help him, at least go talk to him.”

“You’re drunk, Janet. You’re not thinking clearly.”

“I had a few glasses of wine to calm my nerves, that’s all.

Glen insisted.”

“I’m sure he did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Scott saw he was agitating her again and became apologetic.

“Nothing, nothing. I didn’t mean anything by it. You said yourself the color is returning to her face. I’m not leaving now—”
He broke off when the nurse came in.

The nurse said, “If you eat the soup, I’ll bring something special tomorrow.”

He tried to smile. “I’ll eat the soup soon, I promise.” The nurse took the bowl from the nightstand. “Let me reheat it in
the microwave, then you’ll eat. Right?”

He nodded. “I will.”

The nurse left. Janet said in a firm voice, “A few minutes won’t hurt, a few minutes of your time is all he wants.”

“Do you honestly believe I can trust him now after this?”

“He knows you too well, Scott, that is why he didn’t tell you. I was there when Dr. Haskins talked with Mr. Simons, I was.
I was there when he made the decision to call Father Joseph, too. We all believed it was for the best.”

“But you told me the truth.”

Janet said quietly, “Think about what I said, Scott.”

He promised he would. Janet held his hand for a moment, then left. The night nurse returned with the soup. He watched her
make her checks out of the corner of his eye.

The nurse said, “Mrs. Evers is getting stronger every day since you came home. If I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t
believe it.”

He smiled at her as she left the room, but didn’t respond. He was sure she was just trying to get him to eat but he didn’t
feel like eating at the moment. He might eat later when the aroma of the soup overcame his willpower, but the truth was that
the smell made him think of times past.

In his mind’s eye, he saw Cynthia in the kitchen. Cynthia standing on the front porch waiting for him, always with a smile.
The Friday nights they spent alone after he sent the staff away for the weekend. Saturday evening strolls in the moonlight.
Sunday dinners on the patio. Cynthia lying in bed beside him, Cynthia who could reach into his mind and read his every thought.

“I love you,” he whispered in her ear, “I love you.”

His heart skipped when he saw her lips move as if in reply. He sat wide-eyed for a long moment, dumbfounded and elated. Her
lips moved again. He leaned in close. She said a single word, “E-eat.”

He smiled, frowned, then cried, couldn’t help but cry, tears of joy, sheer joy. He started whooping and hollering. Janet and
the nurse came running into the room, their faces painted with alarm.

“She talked,” he shouted, “She talked! Get the doctor, call her father, tell the world!”