Shrouded in Silence (20 page)

Carefully touching the top of her scalp, Michelle felt bandages running over the crown of her head covering a throbbing ache. For the first time, she realized that with each beat of her heart, another sensation of pain surged through her body. Glancing around the room, she appeared to be in a hospital. A strange place indeed.

Scooting up in the bed, she found a button and pushed it. A soft, gentle light appeared from behind her head. Yes, she was definitely in a hospital room. She glanced at a digital clock fastened to the wall. It said 8:00 p.m. How could it be night? It had just been morning when she left for the office?

Michelle felt up and down her side, which felt like it was covered by a huge bruise running the length of her body. Could she have been in a car wreck? Maybe she had been coming to work and got blindsided. But why would she have been driving by herself? That didn't make any sense. Jack was always with her. Where was Jack?

Michelle laid back on the pillow. Where had Jack gone? Jack should be there with her, but she couldn't remember when she had seen him last. Her memory seemed to have turned to mush.

But something had happened. Something she couldn't quite remember. Something that lay just beyond the tips of her fingers. Something . . . something . . .

She took a deep breath. Somewhere along the way she had heard the word "concussion" and obviously had been hit on the head. A blow of some kind had knocked everything out of her, leaving her feeling numb, disconnected, emotionally flat. Nothing made any sense, but she had no idea what was missing.

Missing?
Yes, that was the word that described her condition.
Missing!
Some important piece of the day had disappeared, vanished like fog in the morning.
Still missing . . .

The door to the room cracked slightly, and she caught sight of an eye peering in.

"Yes?" Michelle said.

"Are you awake?" a man's voice ask.

"Yes. Come in."

To her surprise Guido Valentino walked in holding a small vase with flowers. "I wanted to make sure you were awake before I disturbed you. Please tell me if you need quiet and I can leave immediately."

"Guido!" Michelle felt relieved that she recognized him. "Thank you for coming to see me."

"I thought maybe the flowers would cheer you." Guido set the vase on the bed stand. "They tell me you've been unconscious all day."

"I guess I have. You're the first person I've seen. Thank you for the flowers. They help. I can't remember anything except going to work early this morning."

Guido nodded and rubbed his chin. "I see. So, you know nothing of what has happened today?"

"I-I guess not. I can't remember anything."

Guido pulled a chair over by the bed. "They found you outside, lying in the grass. Does that bring anything back to mind?"

Michelle dropped back on the pillow. "In the grass? What was I doing on the ground?"

"There was an explosion. An extremely loud noise. Remember?"

"Explosions frighten me. Actually, they leave me terrified, but I don't remember hearing one."

"A bomb went off under your offices."

"Oh, no! No!"

"Yes, no one is sure why you weren't in the house, but it appeared you were going to your car. Maybe you were leaving."

"Wait! Jack . . . Jack . . . and Dov were in the building?"

"I am afraid so."

"God help us!" Michelle shrieked. "What happened to Jack?"

"The firemen believe the conference table collapsed in front of him and shielded him from the blast. The table probably saved his life."

"He's hurt!" Michelle pushed herself up fully in the bed. "Tell me now, Guido! How badly?"

"Jack is down the hall in Intensive Care, but he is alive."

Michelle felt her heart skip a beat and then beat intensely. A light-headedness settled in and she gasped for air. "H-how b-bad is he?"

"I don't know, but for now they are not letting anybody in to see him."

"Heaven help us!" Michelle could only barely moan. "I-I must see him."

"I'm sorry, but they won't let you in until tomorrow. Moreover, you haven't been out of bed all day. It would take a nurse to help you with a wheelchair."

Michelle clutched the sheets tightly in her fist. "My husband is my life. Do you understand? We are inseparable. I have to be with him."

"I can only tell you what the doctors have told me. It won't be until tomorrow at the earliest."

Michelle wiped her eyes. "Oh, my poor husband." She stopped. "And Dov? Is Dov . . ."

Guido took a deep breath and looked away.

"Tell me!" Michelle demanded.

"Apparently, Dov was standing right over the area where the bomb went off. He never felt a thing."

"H-he's g-gone?" The words barely came out of Michelle's mouth. "Gone?"

Guido nodded his head.

For a moment she couldn't speak. Then she felt emotion arising from within and coming on like an unstoppable freight train. The very depths of her affection and concern erupted in hysterical sobs. Her body shook and her hands trembled. Only after several minutes could she stop crying and lay quietly on the bed.

"Dov is gone," Michelle finally said. "I just can't believe it."

"There is no way that I can express the depth of my condolences," Guido said. "Please know that I am here to walk beside you. You and your husband are not alone."

Michelle nodded her head. "Thank you, friend." She reached out and squeezed his hand. "Please watch over our offices. Possibly you can check to see if anything remains from our research. We had papers and books around the office with important notes in them."

"I will do so in the morning," Guido said. "Is there anything more that I can do for you tonight."

"Thank you. I needed to know what happened and you told me. Thank you for that information as well."

Guido stood up. "I will return in the morning. You remain in our prayers."

"I appreciate the remembrance so much. Pray for Jack. Thank you again for coming."

Guido bowed at the waist, turned and walked out.

Michelle laid back on the pillow. Their offices blown away? How could such a thing happen? And Dov killed? The thought overwhelmed her once again and she cried bitter tears.

She had been wrong about Dov Sharon, terribly wrong. And, now she knew how seriously she had misjudged him. Jack had been right all the time. Realizing how seriously she had misjudged him only added to the weight of his death. Michelle wept into her pillow. How could so much have gone so wrong?

25

M
ichelle slept later than she expected, but as soon as the nurses came in and helped her to the shower, she was ready to see her husband. The nurse left a terry cloth robe behind for her to put on. No amount of hesitation on the hospital's part would keep her from entering the intensive care unit today.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Just a moment." Michelle finished tying the robe around her and sat down slowly on the bed. "Come in."

The door opened slowly. "Excuse me," a skinny man in a worn sport coat said. "I'm Alfredo Pino, a detective with the police. Might I come in."

"Certainly."

"Mrs. Townsend?"

"Yes."

"We are trying to understand what happened when your offices were blown apart," Pino began and handed her his card. "I guess you know a bomb exploded?"

"That's what I've been told," Michelle studied the card for a moment. "I'm sorry, but I received a concussion. It's hard for me to remember much of anything today.

Pino pulled out a small notebook. "Yes." He scribbled on the page. "I understand that you are Bible scholars. Can you tell me why anyone would want to bomb the offices of such studious people as yourselves?"

Michelle shook her head. "It doesn't make any sense. No. We're about as straight as it's possible to be. No. I don't have any idea why this would have occurred."

"Yes, it is strange," Alfredo Pino said. "You've never been involved in any form of illegal trafficking?"

"Heavens no! What are you suggesting?"

"My job is simply to ask questions," the detective said. "I'm sure I have bothered you long enough. I will be going. The best to you Mrs. Townsend." The skinny detective left the room.

Moments later the door opened again and a nurse wheeled in a chair. "I imagine you are more than ready to see your husband. I believe we can go now."

"I feel like I can walk down the hall by myself," she told the nurse.

"That's good," the older woman said, "but we can't risk falling."

"A wheelchair is a must?"

"We will definitely use one," the nurse said. "I will go with you. Once we're inside intensive care, you can stand alone, but you must remember in your condition you can become dizzy. Take it easy."

"Sure. How's my husband this morning?"

"I don't know because I don't work on that unit." The hesitation in her voice suggested that she did know and the problem was serious.

"You know he's in bad condition?" Michelle pressed.

"Your husband was in a horrific explosion. The fact that he is alive is significant. I must leave it there."

"But you know what injuries he received?"

"I know his arm is broken, and he has facial contusions." The nurse stopped. "You really need to talk with the doctor attending him. I can't say anymore."

"Certainly." Michelle lowered herself carefully into the wheelchair and adjusted her feet on the rests at the bottom. "I'm ready."

The trip down the long hall turned into a much longer trek than she had expected. After turning several corners and going a significant distance, she found the swinging doors beneath the Intensive Care sign.

"Let's go in," Michelle urged.

"It's not visiting hours, but the staff felt your visit might be important for your husband," the nurse said. "We'll enter now."

"Thank you," Michelle said. "I'm anxious to see Jack."

The nurse pressed the button on the wall and the doors swung open. Cubicles lined the walls around the large room. An antiseptic smell drifted down the corridor and made the area smell sterile. Very little noise drifted in, and the staff seemed to be functioning in an effective, expeditious manner. The nurse pushed her toward a nook with the number six above the cloth drapery.

"You can go in by yourself," the nurse said. "I'll be here waiting."

Michelle hesitantly pulled the curtain back and stopped. A plaster cast ran from Jack's wrist to his shoulder. Bandages covered most of his face with red seepage along the side of his chin. She only saw one eye still closed, the other was covered by bandages. A thick bandage covered the top of his chest with plastic tubes running down the side to bags on the rail. A bag of glucose hung from a rack, dripping into a needle in his good arm now tied to the bed. Michelle felt her knees buckle and thought she might faint.

"I'm here," the nurse said. "Don't worry. I'll catch you. Maybe, you should sit down."

"Definitely."

After a couple of minutes, Michelle felt her stamina returning and stood up slowly. Tenuously, she leaned over the bed. A closer look at Jack didn't encourage her. He remained in a coma, and she could tell his breathing was labored. Nothing looked good.

"Jack?"

He didn't move.

"Jack, it's Michelle." She squeezed his hand.