In Sickness and in Death (8 page)

Brian smiled sadly. “Well, Mom, I guess you’re right about that.”

For the next several minutes, he continued to try to present the image of Dr. Harris to his mother, but she appeared to be concentrating more on tracking
him
down. She picked up the phone and punched in his direct number at the office. She listened for a couple of minutes, and then punched off the connection. “Voice mail,” she said with disgust. “You can’t ever get a real person anymore.”

Brian glanced at the clock on the microwave. It would be awhile before Cindy came in. He’d better see what Adrienne was up to.

He found her hurrying down the street near the hospital. He frowned. She was dressed in her best suit and carrying a large bag. Where was her uniform? Wasn’t she on her way to work?

As she came abreast the hospital, she turned and strode across the street. Pushing through the office door of the crematorium, she approached the man at the desk. “I need to find out when my brother’s ashes will be ready,” she told him. “His name’s Brian Forrester.”

The man reached into his desk and pulled out a file folder. He ran his finger down the page, paused and looked up at her. “It’ll be a few days yet,” he said.

“Oh, no, that can’t be,” she wailed, tears rising in her eyes. “You don’t understand. I have to have his ashes by this evening.”

The man shook his head. “I’m sorry, miss, the oven isn’t scheduled to be fired up until day after tomorrow.”

“But, but,” she protested, her tears now flowing freely. “Our brother has been called up. He’s leaving for Iraq tomorrow afternoon. We
have
to have his ashes for the memorial service in the morning. We just
have
to!” The man shrugged and shook his head. “If you can’t help me, may I please speak to your manager?”

“Ma’am, I
am
the manager and I’m telling you we just can’t do it.”

“Oh, please, help me. We just can’t let our brother be shipped out without saying good-bye to the one person he was closest with.”

“I really am sorry, miss, but we just can’t fire up like that. I don’t mean to be harsh, but do you have any idea how expensive that would be?” He shook his head. “Takes a lot of fuel.”

“But I’ll pay. Whatever extra it costs, I’ll pay for it.”

“Two days early? It’d cost a good thousand dollars.”

“That’s okay.” She fished through her bag and pulled out a checkbook. “I’ll write you a check right now.” The man shrugged and Adrienne hurriedly wrote the check. She handed it to him with a smile. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll come by at five this evening to get his ashes.”

Brian accompanied her back across the street. She entered the hospital lobby and made straight for the restroom. Brian paused. He felt weird about going into a ladies room. Then he shrugged.

She had entered a stall. Pulling her uniform and a large shopping bag out of the tote she carried, she removed the suit, carefully folded it and placed it in the Dillard’s bag. Then she slipped into her uniform and, taking both the shopping bag and the tote, left the restroom and headed for the elevators.

Brian sighed. She would have his ashes long before the crematorium manager found out that her check had bounced. If something weren’t done quickly, it would be too late. He thought of his mother and found her on the phone.

“Yes, Cindy, I’m trying to reach Brian. Every time I try his line all I get is his voice mail.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Forrester. Your son has been working from home for some time now. He only comes into the office whenever he has a meeting with a customer.”

“Working from home? Why, he’s never mentioned anything about it.”

“What with the telephone and e-mail he still keeps in close touch with us. At least he
has
– until the last couple of days.”

“But doesn’t he have a big meeting this morning?”

Cindy pulled up their shared schedule on her computer. “No, Mrs. Forrester, I don’t see anything out of the ordinary scheduled for today.”

“Hmm, that certainly is strange. Okay, Cindy, thank you so much for your help.”

“No problem.” Cindy gave a small laugh, “But I don’t think I’ve helped much.”

“No, my dear, you really have.”

She hung up the phone and sat, tapping her fingers on the table. “
What
is going on?”

she muttered. “Why did Adrienne lie to me about Brian having a big meeting? What was it,
crucial
, wasn’t that the word she’d used?”

She pulled out the phone book, looked up a number and placed the call. “Is this Dr. Barry’s office?” she asked.

“Dr. Barry is one of our doctors.”

“This is Vivian Forrester. My son, Brian, is a patient of Dr. Barry’s. Could you tell me whether he’s been in recently to see the doctor?”

“Just a minute, ma’am, I’ll have to check his records. Please hold.” The receptionist punched the hold button and went to the bank of files that lined the walls. She selected a folder, pulled it out and began to peruse the latest record on her way back to her desk.

“Ma’am? No, ma’am, he hasn’t been in since last fall.”

“Very well. Thank you very much.”

Brian watched his mother hang up the phone and begin to pace from one room to another. He thought of his father and instantly found himself at his side as he walked along a gurgling stream of crystal clear water.

“How’s it going?”

Brian shook his head. “Not too good. I think I got through to Mom, but she hasn’t been able to find out anything. I was hoping to get an autopsy, but Adrienne is pushing through the cremation. In fact, my body is probably going into the ovens right now. I don’t know what else I can do.”

The older man shrugged. “I guess you’ll just have to concentrate on the girl then. See if you can help turn her around. That is, if you really love her.”

“I do love her,” Brian said, and then hesitated. “Or at least I did, but I’m beginning to wonder if I really ever
knew
her.”

Sometime later, Brian found Adrienne walking through a neighborhood park. She was redressed in the suit with her bag over her shoulder and an urn in her hands. As he drifted along the path, he saw her diverge toward a picnic shelter. There, she removed the lid from the urn and dumped the ashes into a barbeque pit.

“Ashes to ashes,” she murmured with a satisfied smile.

She then tossed the urn into a nearby drum marked ‘Refuse’ and dusted off her hands. From there she went to a copy shop and had half a dozen copies of his Death Certificate made.

Apparently
, Brian thought,
it’s time to file at least one insurance claim. No doubt the
life insurance policy would be the first on the list
. He popped back to his mother’s house and found her still pacing the floor. Had she been pacing all day?

She went to the phone, picked it up and punched in a number, tapping her foot while she waited for someone to answer. “Cindy, apparently you’ve left for the day. This is Vivian Forrester, I was just wondering if you’ve heard anything from Brian. Would you please give me a call the first thing in the morning? Thank you.”

She disconnected the call and immediately called the local police station. “Yes,” she said when they answered. “I want to file a missing persons report. On whom? On my son.” She paused, apparently listening. “I’m filing because nobody seems to have spoken with him in several days. I haven’t heard from him; his secretary hasn’t heard from him. Something must have happened for him not to have checked in at his office.”

She continued, giving the policeman Brian’s name, his description and the addresses of both his home and office. She finished and said, “I just
know
something’s wrong. Thank you, Officer.”

The next morning Brian found Adrienne at work at the hospital. She was obviously pretending to study some charts, but was actually straining to eavesdrop on a conversation between two of her fellow nurses.

“Have you seen him yet?” one asked with a giggle.

“Have I ever!”

“Isn’t he just the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever laid eyes on?”

“I think I’ll see if I can just manage to bump into him in the cafeteria.”

“I’d like to bump into him alright, but not in the cafeteria.”

Both girls laughed and went their separate ways down the corridor. Adrienne moved to the station where the graying head nurse was reviewing the day’s schedule. She returned the charts to their holder, leaned down and said in a confidential tone. “That new doctor must be something else the way he has all of the girls twittering.”

“He’s a looker,” the older woman replied. “And from what I hear, he’s got brains and money to boot. He should rise like cream.”

“Really?” Adrienne said, with what she apparently intended to be a light laugh. “I just may have to check him out.”

Purposefully Adrienne strode down the hallway. She entered a room that, according to the charts she had just scrutinized, contained one of the new Dr. Robinson’s patients. She busied herself straightening the room and soon the newest addition to the staff entered.

“Good morning, Mrs. Woods,” he greeted the patient. “How are we feeling this morning?”

Brian watched Adrienne’s corner-of-the-eye surveillance of the doctor while she made sure to display her curvaceous body to its best advantage.

When the doctor had finished checking out the patient, he turned to Adrienne,

“Nurse.”

“Yes, Doctor,” Adrienne stepped closer and looked up at him coyly from under lowered lashes.

Dr. Robinson glanced at her nametag. “Uh, Adrienne, I’d like Mrs. Woods here—” he smiled at the patient, “—to begin physical therapy. Would you see to it that she is scheduled for this afternoon?”

“Of course, Doctor. I’ll take care of it right away.”

Over the next several days Brian observed how Adrienne shadowed the new doctor, always popping up whenever he needed someone to carry out instructions. She used every means within her power to make sure that his desires got the very highest priority. Soon he knew her name without checking her nametag.

Brian shook his head. It wouldn’t be long before she had him completely hooked. Was this doctor the next guy she would try to bleed dry? How could he stop her before it was too late? How could he get her to see that using guys like that was wrong? He tried sending her thought messages, but it didn’t seem as if he got through. When he wasn’t trying to influence Adrienne, he periodically checked in on his mom but spent most of his time in meditation, attempting to strengthen his powers of concentration. He would need all he could muster if he were to get his message across. One evening a few days later, he found Adrienne in a dimly lit lounge with none other than the handsome Dr. Robinson.

They were sitting at a small table with their heads close together.

“Why did you ever want to be a nurse?” he was asking.

Adrienne’s eyes shone and the tip of her tongue caressed her upper lip. “Oh, I just
love
being able to help people, you know.” She shrugged. “I felt nursing would offer the best opportunities for that.”

“I know what you mean. I felt the same way about becoming a doctor.” He gave a slight laugh. “Of course, my father did provide a bit of
encouragement
there.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s a doctor – a neurosurgeon. I guess it’s kind of a family tradition. My father, his father before him – all doctors.” He laughed. “If you traced our family tree all the way back, you’d probably find a shaman at the head of the clan.”

She laughed with him. “Maybe I’ll start a Florence Nightingale clan.”

He shrugged. “Why not? There are worse things you could do. Besides what could be better than taking care of people who need your expertise?”

“You make me sound so
noble
.”

He shrugged. “It’s a noble profession. What can I say?” His eyes serious, he gazed at her for a long minute.

She smiled at him and took a sip of her drink.

“Adrienne?”

“Hmm,” she said sexily.

“You know, I really like you. We seem to have a lot in common.”

“Yes, we do, don’t we?”

“Look, my parents are having a party this Saturday night. I’d like you to come and meet them.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Oh, Alan, I’d love to!”

Brian watched what appeared to be a budding romance and wondered how he could make Adrienne understand just how wrong she was in what she was doing. He needed to come up with something that would really get her attention. But what could he do?

At last, a picture came to him. That night when Adrienne was soundly sleeping, he began to formulate the vision in his mind.

He conjured up his own ghost. When it was clear and vivid, he sent the picture to Adrienne’s subconscious. He then positioned his apparition in such a way as to appear threatening to her. A frown appeared on her sleeping face. She began to twist and turn on the bed. Her breathing rapidly increased.

She sat suddenly upright with her eyes wide open, trembling. “That’s impossible,” she breathed. “There’s no such thing as ghosts! There’s not!”

The next morning Brian appeared at the hospital and observed Adrienne. Except for an occasional moment when she would pause, staring off into space, her behavior seemed no different than on any other day. She continued to frequently cross paths with Alan Robinson and their chats appeared to be more intimate than in the past. That night Brian sent another dream of his own ghost. Adrienne began to toss on the bed. Gradually he changed the apparition into the appearance of Alan Robinson. Maybe Adrienne would understand that she was using Dr. Robinson the same way she had used him. Instead of the fright that she had exhibited the previous night, her face showed a confused frown as if she didn’t comprehend the message of the dream. Brian wondered how he could get any message to Adrienne if he was unable to get her to understand what he was trying to show her. Maybe he could get through by simple repetition. Didn’t repetitive dreams always make the person wonder why they kept dreaming the same thing night after night?

Not knowing what else to do, Brian conjured up the same image repeatedly each night after Adrienne was asleep.

On Saturday evening when he thought of Adrienne, he found himself floating above the Corvette where Alan was behind the wheel. He’s driving
my
car! Brian thought, and immediately felt a twinge of guilt for the jealousy of the feeling.
What’s the difference?