Staring at her, I
wait for her to continue.
“They were just
supposed to create the circumstances that would make the patients go
unconscious then perform a tracheotomy.”
“How did they do
that? And who is
they
?”
“Doctor Roberts
and Doctor Francis. They would give this substance to the patients and when
they stopped breathing, they’d perform the procedure.”
“Why?”
“So they’d get
paid from insurance and Medicare.”
“Then why come
after me?”
She hesitates.
“Tell me, Robin.”
“The morning
after Doctor Roberts and I met with you, a file with some sensitive information
went missing. He thought you stole it, and if any of the information in it got
out…”
“And even after
you met me, after you realized I was seeing your brother, you said nothing to
him or me? Did you ever stop to think that he might get hurt during this?”
“Zoë, I promise
you, I didn’t know.”
“What do you mean
you didn’t know? Morgan told me you knew I’d been attacked. He even told me you
sent your best and said you were sorry you couldn’t visit me after the fire
because you were at a conference. We hadn’t met yet so
maybe
I could see
you not knowing, but you had to put the pieces together at Thanksgiving when
you saw me.”
“Oh God,” she
sobs loudly. “It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this.”
“You still haven’t
told me who you were delivering those documents for.”
“I forgot who it
was. I happened to be heading into Doctor Roberts’s office and someone asked me
to hand it to him. I can’t remember who.”
“You’re lying.”
“No, there’s
nothing more, I promise.”
“Who are you
protecting?”
“Look, I’ve
already said too much.”
“Robin, you have
to tell the police about this. How can I be sure these people won’t continue to
come after us?”
Just as I say
that, the front door opens, a voice bellows into the foyer, “Hey sweetheart,
get that sweet ass of yours over here. You ready to go?”
“Grant wai—” she
tries to stop him, but it’s too late.
I turn to see the
blonde haired, blue-eyed man behind me.
He stills at the
sight of me, “Oh… I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware you had a guest.”
It occurs to me
how I know him. He was Morgan’s colleague we met at brunch the day Barney was
released from the hospital, the same man who stared at me that day at the
Waterfront Café, hours before we were shot at on the boat.
Cognizant of the
fact that my body carries many cameras, I make sure I turn to face him.
“I do,” Robin
responds. “Do you think you can leave us alone for a minute? Wait for me in the
car. I’ll be out in a while.”
“Sure,” he says
and quietly walks away.
When he’s out of
view, I stare at her.
“Don’t you judge
me,” she says.
“You’re having an
affair?
That’s
who you’re protecting? Your lover? Your brother is dying,
Robin!”
“I’ve said too
much.”
“So what are you
going to do? Sweep this under the rug and pretend it never even happened? You
have to tell the police about this.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“I just can’t.
Now leave. Just tell me where my brother is so I can go see him.”
“You’ve got to be
out of your fucking mind. You tell me all this, you know how dangerous these
people are, you rub shoulders with them and you expect me to put Morgan’s life
in more danger and tell you where he is?”
“I’d never put my
brother’s life in danger.”
“You already
have.”
“I’m a doctor
with a lot of connections. I’ll find out where my brother is.”
“Go right ahead
and use those connections, but you won’t be getting that information from me.
Based on everything you told me, you’re an accessory to all these crimes. If I
were you, I’d get a head start and go to the police before they have time to
come to you. This is your chance, Robin. Do this with me and clear your name,
or I’m going to go to the police and tell them every single detail I know. What’s
it going to be?”
After a long
silence, she whispers, “I’ll come with you.”
“You have five
minutes. I’ll be waiting outside in my car.”
I turn to leave,
but as I’m about to open the door someone pushes it forward. The man has
returned.
“Is everything
okay in here?” he asks.
“I was just
leaving,” I respond.
“I don’t think so,”
he says forcing my body inside. “You’re not going anywhere at all.”
“Get the hell out
of my way.”
“Grant, please,
let her go,” Robin cries.
“Oh no,
sweetheart. I can’t let you go to the police. Too much is on the line.”
“What are you
going to do?” Robin asks.
I’m dying to hear
his answer. It would be great if I can get this all on tape…
“Lu and his guys
are on the way. They’ll handle it. Sweetie, you sit right here,” he says,
directing me to a nearby bench. He’s pointing an oversized syringe with a very
long needle at me.
“Try anything and
you’ll be going to
lala
land for a very long time.”
“You people are
crazy,” I say.
“Call me whatever
you want, but if you think I’ll let you and a few other people hamper my
operation then you don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
“Grant, you have
to stop this,” Robin says. “Morgan’s been hurt.”
“Sweetheart, I
knew that already, and I’m sorry. But from what I hear, he’s as good as dead.
Nothing we do now can make a difference.”
His words send me
into panic mode. The only way he could know that was if the information was
leaked from the hospital—the
so-called
secure hospital.
“Wow, aren’t you
a gem? Nice way to show her you love her,” I remark sarcastically. “He loves
you so much he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about your brother almost getting
killed.”
“Just shut the
fuck up,” he yells at me.
A knock sounds at
the door. I realize this situation is about to be taken to the next level.
“You can’t hold
me here against my will.”
“Oh no, sweetheart?
What makes you think you have a choice? You’re not the one running the show.”
He opens the door
and three men walk in.
“She’s the one.”
He points at me. “I don’t know what I pay you guys for. I had to handle this
myself. You know I never get my hands dirty.”
“What do you want
us to do?” one of the men asks.
“Handle it, just
like the other one. Make it look like an accident, and I want it done today.”
“Asshole,” I
shout. “You had Deandre and Shaun murdered.”
“And soon you won’t
be alive to tell anyone about it.”
“Look,
I’m not
doing this with you anymore
. You need to let me out of here.”
“Lady, you aren’t
going anywhere,” one of the men says. “Are you going to make this easy or
hard?”
I stare on in
silence and don’t answer. Then Grant walks over to me with the syringe. In the
corner of my eye, I notice an agent near one of the windows. Still, the
palpitations are going off in my chest.
“Grant, please
don’t do this,” Robin begs. “I’ll get her to keep her mouth shut.”
“Rob, I’d like to
believe that, but that’s a chance I can’t take right now. She knows too much.”
He holds the
syringe as if he’s preparing to inject me when one of the men asks, “Doctor
King, how long before this takes effect?”
“It’s quick. A
few minutes,” he replies.
“Then I suggest you
let us handle it in the car. It won’t be easy to carry a body unnoticed onto a
busy street.”
“Grant, how can
you be like this? How can you be so callous?”
“Do you want to
end up in fucking prison?” he shouts angrily. “Because if I let her go, I
guarantee you she’ll head straight to the police.” He turns and looks at me, “I
don’t know why you had to be so fucking nosy.”
“You’ll pay for
what you did to my brother and Morgan.”
He laughs, “What
are you going to do? Haunt me from your grave?”
“Come on, lady,”
one of the men says, pulling me by my wrist. Another lifts his shirt and shows
me his gun.
Standing, I
calmly look at Grant. He’s just inches away from me. “You know this won’t hurt
me. You already took every one I ever cared about away from me.”
“Whatever,
sweetheart.”
“Do I get one
last dying wish?”
“Whatever floats
your boat,” he replies.
As the words exit
his mouth, I take one step closer so I’m looking deep into his eyes. “See you
in hell, asshole.” I ram my knee into his balls.
He hurls over in
pain and drops the syringe to the floor. “Fuck!”
“That was for my
brother.”
His henchmen grab
me from behind, trying to pull me away, but my adrenaline is pumping. I
momentarily pull away and swing my boot straight across his jaw. “And that was
for my husband!”
Quickly, I grab
the syringe off the floor. Someone snatches me from behind, and as they do, I
stab the needle into their thigh.
“Fuck!” the man
screams, letting me go. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What the fuck is in this thing?” he
asks, pulling the needle from his thigh and removing his belt.
Robin screams and
cries hysterically on the floor in the corner.
I take pleasure
in seeing Grant down on the ground, wailing in pain. Another of his men hits me
hard on my head and locks me in a choke-hold.
The FBI kicks the
door in. Agents rush in.
“FBI. Freeze.”
Things happen
quickly. I find myself in Grant’s chokehold. With one arm, he surrounds my
neck; with the other, he points a gun to my head. He drags me away. The
distance between the FBI agents and us increases. I’m unable to breathe.
“Let her go,”
Phillip says.
“Take one more
step, and I promise you I’ll pull the trigger.”
I look into
Phillip’s eyes, and I sense Grant is going to pull the trigger. Grant’s arm is
extremely close to my mouth. I bite him. He yelps in pain and loosens his grip
on me, giving me the chance to head for the patio doors. Gun shots go off—two
or three. I stumble to the floor.
It’s only when I
hit the ground that I see the blood on my shoulder. I’ve been shot.
I hear commotion
around me. Phillip helps me out of the house. When I step outside, I feel like
I’m in a movie. Men and women in tactical gear with the bold FBI letters
surround the house. The streets are blocked off. In the distance, TV cameras
and photographers and other spectators look on.
Phillip escorts
me to the back of a nearby ambulance, where two armed agents and the paramedics
await.
“You did great,”
he says. “You okay?”
“I’m worried
about Morgan. Grant knew about Morgan’s condition. Someone at the hospital must
have leaked him information.”
“Don’t worry, we’ve
handled it. We’re going to send you and Doctor Drake away for a while until
everything’s sorted out.”
A female agent
takes the cameras and wires off me and a paramedic looks at my shoulder.
She smiles at me
and says, “You’re lucky. The bullet just grazed your shoulder.”
Still, it’s
painful. As she cleans the area and puts a bandage on my shoulder, I watch
Robin and two men escorted from the house by two armed agents. Grant and the
other man I stabbed with the syringe are taken away on a stretcher.
I know I don’t
have the full story. I know there’s more to uncover, but for the most part, I
feel like this is the beginning of the end.
A while later
, Phillip,
along with two other agents, returns to the ambulance. Lucas is with them.
“Mrs. Drake, you’re in good hands
now. I need your keys.”
I don’t know what happens next, but
I feel like this might be goodbye. “Lucas, I can’t say thank you enough.” I
rise to my feet and wrap my arms around him.
“You don’t have to thank me. Just
take care of yourself and Doctor Drake. We’ll be in touch when you return.”
He and Phillip help me into the
back of a black SUV. As we drive away, Phillip informs me that Morgan and some
doctors wait at a nearby airport.
“Is it safe for Morgan to fly?”
“A specialist and his team will be
on the flight. They’re professionals. They do this all the time.”
I feel a bit guilty about doing
this unknown to anyone. But after what happened earlier, when I think of the possible
consequences of staying here, I quickly cast all doubt aside.
It isn’t long before I find myself
with my husband, heading to a land unknown. Two hours later, we’re at a
facility somewhere in Utah. Morgan remains unconscious the entire time.
Soon after we arrive at the
hospital, I meet the team of doctors in charge of Morgan’s care. I settle into
the room with distant mountain views. I’m overcome by the events of the last
twenty-four hours. I haven’t had much time to think, but as I gaze on at the
vista, they all come back.
I realize how closely I came to
death—again. We’ve been lucky.
This room is equipped with a sofa.
I lie down facing Morgan. Slowly, I drift.
Three days later,
as the sun begins to peak through
the blinds, I sense I’m being watched. I look over to the bed and my gaze meets
Morgan’s hazel eyes.
A gasp of relief escapes my lips
and the tears rapidly build as I walk over to the side of the bed. He looks at
me but says nothing.
“Hey babe,” I whisper. “Oh God, you’re
awake.”
He gazes at me, but he doesn’t
respond. I take his hand and entwine my fingers between his. I’m silent but
overjoyed. I can’t stop crying.
“I love you,” I say, kissing his
hand. “I’m so happy to see you. I miss you so much.”
I ring for the doctor. Moments
later, Dr. Edwards—an older British lady—examines him from the opposite side of
the bed.