The Perfect Game (2 page)

“You guys go on without me. I don't want to leave until her dad gets here. We finally reached him and he's driving back from San Diego.”

“How often do we get a chance to hit the town together? Besides, I heard you owe Kevin a drink.”

“More like a six-pack. Next time. I swear.”

“Maybe I should call your sister and see if she wants to fill your spot,” he teased.

“Maybe you should settle down with that nice Indian dentist your parents picked out for you.”

His eyes narrowed. “Wow. Now you have crossed the line.”

Lauren's eyes widened. “I'm sorry, Ritesh. I didn't mean to hurt your—”

“Ha! Gotcha again. You're an easy mark today.”

She laughed, grateful for Ritesh's ability to make her do so on a day like this.

“Good night, Marshmallow. See you tomorrow.” He waved over his shoulder as he departed.

Lauren returned to Jamie, whose hand she would hold for several more hours. When the father finally arrived, Lauren was forced to deliver the same terrible news twice in the same evening.

Exhausted, physically and emotionally, Lauren was a few feet from the employee exit when she heard Dr. Stone call her name. She turned as he rushed to catch her.

“I know you're already way overtime, but there are a couple of detectives looking for you. They say it's urgent.”

“Detectives? About which case?”

Stone shrugged his shoulders. “Shootings, stabbings, drunk driving accidents. The ER is a hotbed for crime victims. Take your pick.”

She walked back with him to one of the consultation rooms, which were mostly used for death notifications.

The two men stood as she entered. They looked fatigued, but then again, it was already well past dawn.

The older man stepped forward. He was probably in his fifties, his face lined with deep creases, as if years of worry had aged him prematurely. He compensated for his receding hair with a bushy gray mustache. “Dr. Rose, I'm Detective Wallace with the Scottsdale P.D. And this is Detective Boyd.” He indicated the younger man with a jerk of his head.

Detective Boyd was about six feet tall with broad shoulders and thick dark hair. Late twenties or early thirties. His startling aqua-colored eyes were many shades brighter than the navy suit he wore. He shook Lauren's hand.

She pulled back. “May I ask why you want to see me?”

“We should take a seat,” Detective Wallace directed.

Lauren sat on the small love seat in the room. Detective Wallace took the chair opposite her while Boyd continued to stand.

“I'm afraid we have some bad news,” Detective Wallace said. “Your sister, Elizabeth, was killed last night.”

Chapter Two

(Sunday, July 24)

Lauren's heart hammered in her chest. This couldn't be happening. Not to her. And not to Liz. The two of them had suffered enough, hadn't they? She struggled to catch her breath, “There must be some mistake. I'm on my way to go meet her now.”

Detective Wallace shook his head. “I know this is a shock, but there's no mistake. We've already reached Mr. Wakefield. He's catching the first flight back from D.C. He told us about your parents…and asked us to notify you in person.”

***

The moment Lauren stepped out of the employee exit, she was accosted by a mass of reporters, all shouting her name: “Lauren. Lauren, over here. LAUREN!”

Liz had learned to manage the media interest in her life, but Lauren was unprepared for this onslaught. She ignored the rapid-fire questions, hustling toward her aging white Honda Civic in the parking garage. Video cameras and microphones were shoved in her face.

Several reporters blocked her path. Lauren forced herself to speak, shouting over the noisy crowd, “I know this must be a great news story for you, but it's a tremendous tragedy for me.” The din instantly quieted. Lauren could hear the sound of her own ragged breathing. “So, please let me grieve in peace.”

***

Lauren knocked on her grandmother's apartment door at the Desert Pointe Assisted Living Facility in Scottsdale. Rose-ma greeted her at the door. Lauren bent to hug her petite grandmother. Rose-ma smelled of powder; her L'Oreal #44 chestnut hair was pulled back into its usual meticulous bun.

“You look so tired, dear,” Rose-ma observed. “They aren't working you too hard at that humdinger, are they?” Lauren knew her grandmother meant to say hospital. She was typically unaware of the word substitutions that had plagued her since the stroke. “How about some breakfast?” Rose-ma turned to her kitchen and began rummaging through her refrigerator.

“Thanks Rose-ma, but I'm not hungry. I need to tell you something.”

“You're not obsessing about Michael again? He was a sweet boy, but there are so many other fish in the sea.”

“No, it's not Michael. It's Liz.”

The tears came now. Lauren took a deep breath and repeated the information the police had given her.

“That's fucked!” her grandmother said, dissolving into tears.

Lauren had never heard Rose-ma use such language before. She could only assume that this was another occasion on which her grandmother had unknowingly substituted one word for another.

But in this case, the new word was exactly the right word after all.

***

Lauren agreed to attend church only for her grandmother's benefit. Her parents' deaths, and now Liz's fueled Lauren's certainty that God did not exist. She could not believe in a God so cruel. Still, Rose-ma's faith was stronger than Lauren's doubts.

The stained glass windows, the candles burning near the pulpit, and the hushed tones elicited memories of her parents' memorial service. Lauren imagined Liz's funeral, then forced herself to stop, refocusing on the hymnal in front of her.

Throughout the sermon, Lauren's cell phone had been vibrating repeatedly in her purse. As they walked back toward her car, Lauren checked her phone. Seventeen missed calls, including four from Jake. She called Jake back.

He answered on the first ring. “Lauren? I'm so glad to hear from you. Are you okay?”

“I'm in complete shock. How are you?”

“The same. Terrible, actually.” There was a touch of strained humor in his voice. “Listen, I'm at my folks' house. Will you come over?”

“I need to drop Rose-ma off first and then I will.”

“You remember how to get here?”

“I think so.”

“Lauren, I need a favor. I wish there was somebody else I could ask, but it has to be an immediate family member.”

“Of course. What can I do?”

“Somebody has to identify…” His voice cracked…“her. Her body.”

Lauren had seen plenty of dead bodies, but she wasn't up for this impossible task. There had to be somebody else that could do it. But unless Lauren wanted to send her eighty-six-year-old grandmother into cardiac arrest, it came down to either Jake or herself. Liz wouldn't have wanted Jake to have to see her that way. So Lauren had to step up.

“Lauren? I'm sorry.” Jake was crying on the other end of the line. “It's too much to ask of you. Forget it. I can do it. I just…”

Numb, Lauren said, “No, it's okay. I'll do it.”

Chapter Three

(Sunday, July 24)

The coroner's assistant, dressed in maroon scrubs, led Lauren downstairs to a windowless room and showed her an image on a large monitor. The picture depicted a woman's head and shoulders, the face half-covered by a sheet. Even in death, the visible left side of the face was gorgeous. Flawless complexion, full lips, arched brow, thick blond hair. 

The sheet shifted under its own weight and fell to the floor. The right side of the face was a mangled mass of blood, hair, and bone fragments. Lauren gasped. The technician apologized and the sheet was hastily pulled back up to conceal the ruined half again. The woman on the screen looked peaceful. Lauren nodded and they led her out of the room, up the stairs, back to the land of the living. Lauren signed a few documents and then escaped back to her car.

Her usual radio station was playing as she drove toward Paradise Valley. She was lost in thought when the rock music was interrupted by a news report.

“Elizabeth Wakefield, wife of Arizona Diamondbacks' pitcher Jake Wakefield, was found dead this morning in their Scottsdale home. A police spokesperson confirmed the death, which is believed to have been the result of a botched burglary. Several expensive jewelry items are reportedly missing from the home. Jake Wakefield, who was scheduled to pitch today against the Washington Nationals, has returned to the local area. Liz Wakefield was a well-known advocate for Mothers Against Drunk Driving.”

Lauren approached the Wakefields' neighborhood. Journalists—video cameras and microphones at the ready—trampled the flower beds in front of the gate to the community. Security had been beefed up today as several private security guards were monitoring the gate. One of them corralled the reporters back as another checked Lauren's ID against an authorized guest list before allowing her to proceed through the gate.

Even in this upscale neighborhood of multimillion-dollar homes, the Wakefield home was impressive. Large pillars framed the front entry and supported the sweeping balcony. A large marble fountain in the front yard served as a centerpiece of the estate.

Lauren pulled into the circular drive and parked behind several luxury cars, including Jake's bright-red Porsche Spyder.

Lauren rang the doorbell and heard a sophisticated chime behind the leaded glass windows at either side of the front door, which was soon opened by Jake's mother. Buffy Wakefield was tall, thin, and tanned with silver hair styled in a perfect bob. She wore tailored black slacks and a black blouse with a plunging V-neckline. Her breasts were suspiciously high for a woman of her age. Lauren inhaled a combination of Chanel No. 5 and Scotch as Buffy pulled her into an embrace.

“Lauren, darling, such a dreadful thing. But we shall endure it. There is simply no choice. Can I get you something to drink?”

Lauren politely declined and followed Jake's mother through the vaulted entry, Buffy's Manolo stiletto heels clicking on the travertine tile. Buffy led the way up the winding staircase into the subdued lighting of the upstairs den. The walls were lined with cherry cabinetry holding classic leather-bound books, silver vases, and expensive crystal decanters of liquor. Several people were in the room watching a large television centered on the opposite wall. Jake was sitting on one of the leather couches, talking to several people in muted tones. When he spotted Lauren, his face looked pained. He stood to greet her, pulling her into a firm hug.

“Did you find out anything more?” Lauren asked him.

“Not yet. I spoke to the detectives briefly when I got in. They said they'd call when they had more information. My phone has been ringing off the hook.” As if to prove his point, his cell phone rang and he paused to answer it.

Jake was six foot three with broad shoulders and a slim waist. And, if you believed thousands of baseball fans, the “best butt in the major leagues.” He had thick sandy hair that was always perfectly trimmed. Liz had used to joke that Jake had always either just gotten his hair cut or was just about to. His ocean-blue eyes were brighter than usual because he had been crying. He wore khakis and a button-down blue shirt.

Jake's voice cracked as he graciously accepted the condolences being offered on the other end of the line. He thanked the caller and hung up. He patted the seat next to him on the sofa. “Come sit down, Lauren.”

She took a seat beside him, saying, “It's impossible to believe.”

“I know. It's not sinking in for me either.”

Something on the television caught Jake's eye. “Hey, Lauren, it's you.” He gestured toward the TV.

Lauren turned to the screen and saw footage of her disheveled self taken at the hospital parking lot. That seemed so long ago already.

“Maybe we could call the detectives for an update,” Lauren suggested.

“I'll give them a call in a minute. But first, we should discuss the memorial. I'd like to have it on Tuesday.”

“So soon? Will they even release her by then?”

“Yeah, they should be done by then. Tuesday works best because I have to be in Houston on Wednesday.”

“Houston?”

“We're playing the Astros. Houston's tough and we have a shot at the play-offs. I want to be there.”

“You're going back to work this week?”

“Well, it will help take my mind off things. I'm sure you're going back, too, aren't you?”

Work had been the furthest thing from Lauren's mind. But, yes, she would have to go back. If she missed more than eighty hours of her internship year, she could be dismissed from the program with no guarantees of being accepted back into the prestigious Good Samaritan emergency medicine residency the following year. Lauren also needed her paycheck to pay her rent. “Yes, I have to. Everything is just happening so fast.”

“I know. It's so hard. I'd like to have the service at Valley Presbyterian Church here in Paradise Valley.”

“Valley Presbyterian? But we're Catholic.”

“You and your grandmother are Catholic, but Liz and I attended Valley Presbyterian quite a bit. It's my parents' church and Liz loved it. It's gorgeous. And spacious. I expect a huge turnout. I'm sure this is what she would have wanted.”

Lauren had assumed that Father Paul would conduct the service, but it sounded like Liz knew the pastor at Valley Presbyterian better. She nodded. “Okay. What about burying her in Tehachapi, near our parents?”

Jake looked distraught. “You think so? She told me she wanted to be cremated.”

“Cremated?”

“That's what she said she wanted,” Jake reiterated. “She said she didn't want to be put in the ground to be eaten by worms.”

Jake knew Liz best. Liz hadn't told Lauren that she wanted to be cremated. The thought of a secret between them stung Lauren. What else hadn't she known about her own sister?

As Lauren reflected, Jake added, “I have to respect her wishes. It's all I can do for her now.” Tears rolled down his cheeks.

Lauren gave him a hug and said, “Of course you're right. We should do exactly what she would have wanted.”

He nodded and continued to cry.