Terminated (22 page)

“Who’s calling?” the man insisted.

“Gwen Farris. You have my husband’s phone.”

“Mrs. Farris, do you know where your husband was this morning?”

Panic took over. Gwen started to shake. Kirsten picked up on Gwen’s mood change and trotted into the kitchen. “He went to a job interview in Fremont. Now, tell me who you are and why you have Paul’s phone.”

“I’m Detective Braga from the Fremont Police Department. Your husband’s been severely injured.”

“What do you mean severely injured?”

“He was beaten. He’s in very bad shape.”

Gwen fought to keep a grip. “How bad?”

“I’m no doctor, but someone worked him over and didn’t expect him to be found alive.”

“Oh God.” Gwen slapped a hand over her mouth.

Kirsten held her hands out to Gwen. She picked
her daughter up and held her tight to her. Her world was falling apart, and she needed to keep a hold on everything she had left.

“Where is he?”

“Paramedics have him en route to Eden Medical Center in Castro Valley.”

“I have to see him.”

“Mrs. Farris, he’s in good hands. Right now, I need some information from you to help track down the perpetrator.”

“If you have any questions, you can find me there.” Gwen tossed the phone on the counter and grabbed her purse.

“Where are we going?” Kirsten asked.

“Daddy’s been hurt, honey. We’re going to see him.”

Gwen strapped Kirsten into the car seat, ignoring the girl’s questions. She peeled out of the garage and drove hard to the hospital. What had happened? He was just going to an interview. How had it turned into a beating? It just didn’t make sense.

After a drive she didn’t remember, she parked in the hospital’s lot, straddling two parking spots. She jerked Kirsten free of her car seat. At first, she tried walking. But people walked when they had nothing to fear. So Gwen broke into an awkward run with Kirsten in her arms.

“It’s going to be OK, baby. It’s going to be OK,” she told Kirsten, but the mantra was just as much for herself as her daughter.

She rushed up to an admittance desk, ignoring the line of people waiting to be seen. “I’m looking for my husband, Paul Farris.”

“There’s a line, lady.”

“The police brought him in, I think,” Gwen said, ignoring the protests. “He was a victim of a crime. The police just called me. Paul Farris. Where can I find him?”

The admitting nurse looked at her blank faced.

“Please, I need to find my husband.”

Someone bitched about her cutting
in line, but Gwen stopped it with a cutting look.

Gwen’s frantic behavior ignited Kirsten’s fear, and she began crying.

A supervisor intervened. She removed Gwen and Kirsten from the line. The woman spoke in soothing tones. She smiled at Kirsten and told them not to worry. She sat them down and said she’d find out what happened to Paul.

Gwen felt the heat of everyone’s gazes on her. Kirsten’s crying slowed to hiccupping sobs. She kept Kirsten on her lap and told her it was all going to be OK and prayed it was true.

The supervisor returned after a couple of minutes. Her expression was muted, but pleasant. “He’s here.”

She walked Gwen and Kirsten down a series of corridors and sat them down in a lounge. “Paul was brought in about forty minutes ago in critical condition. He’s in surgery right now.”

The phrase “critical condition” struck fear into Gwen. It raised too many frightening possibilities. “Can I speak to a doctor?”

“Not right now. They’re working on Paul. I’ll let them know you’re here. A doctor will be out to see you as soon as they’re done.”

Kirsten broke into tears and Gwen pulled her daughter close to her. The supervisor saw that her words had failed to bring any comfort. She sat down next to Gwen and took her hand in hers.

“I can’t imagine how you’re feeling, but you’re not the first person in this position. I can’t tell you not to worry, but worrying isn’t going to bring you or your little girl any comfort. All I can say is that we’re doing everything we can for Paul. Just hang in there, OK?”

“Thanks,” Gwen said.

The supervisor smiled. “OK. I’ll drop by when I can.”

Gwen watched the supervisor leave. Patients, nurses, and doctors wandered by, but she’d never felt so alone in her life. She pulled Kirsten to her.

“Daddy’s going to be OK, baby.”

A police officer appeared in the
corridor. The moment he set eyes on Gwen, he made a beeline for her.

“Mrs. Farris?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Detective Braga. We spoke earlier. Can I ask you a few questions?”

Braga was a heavyset guy in his late forties with big hands and a sensitive face.

“Sure.”

“Is my daddy in trouble?” Kirsten asked.

“No, honey. The person who hurt him is.”

Gwen shifted Kirsten to her lap and Braga took her seat.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Gwen asked.

“Your husband was found on the fourth floor of the Hogan Building in Fremont. He’d been severely beaten. He was found by some kids using the site as a jungle gym. They called it in.”

“What has Paul said?”

“Nothing yet. He’s still unconscious.”

Gwen’s stomach clenched, and she held Kirsten even tighter.

“That building was abandoned. Can you tell me what he was doing out there?”

“Job interview. He’s a construction supervisor. He was meeting with someone from the construction company that had taken over the building.”

Braga gave her a sideways look. “No one’s taken that building over. The city is hoping someone will finish the project, but there’s been no interest.”

“That can’t be right. He spoke to the architect several times. A headhunter set up the interview.”

The mention of a headhunter caught the officer’s attention. “Do you have the headhunter’s contact info?”

“Not here, but I know the name of the recruiter and the firm. They’re out of San Francisco.”

“That’s fine. I can track it down from there.”

“What do you think happened?”

“I don’t know. It could be a matter of being
at the wrong place at the wrong time. We have problems with drug dealers using the building for deals. Maybe your husband got between a dealer and his stash. I want to check on this interview. I could be wrong about the building not being under new ownership. Can I get some contact details?”

Gwen gave him everything he needed to track down the recruiting firm, and he promised to be in touch and left.

With Braga gone, the waiting game began. Hours dragged by with Paul still in surgery. Patients and loved ones left and were replaced by others. The faces of the medical staff changed as their shifts changed. Kirsten fell asleep as the tedium kicked in, which was something Gwen wished she could do. Every hour that Paul was in surgery only underlined the severity of his injuries. The vague updates didn’t help calm her either. She didn’t dare leave her spot to eat or drink or even stretch her legs in case something happened.

It was after five when a doctor in medical scrubs emerged from a doorway. Gwen had wanted someone to talk to her, but now that the moment was here, a sense of dread crept up on her and threatened to crush her.

“I’m Dr. Korn. Mrs. Farris, could we talk for a moment?”

The supervisor they’d met earlier walked up behind the doctor. “You look hungry, Kirsten. Want to get something to eat?”

Gwen’s dread intensified. They didn’t want Kirsten here for the news. It had to be bad.

Kirsten looked over at Gwen for permission and Gwen nodded at her. The supervisor led her away.

Dr. Korn showed Gwen into a small room. His expression was grave. “I know you’ve been waiting a long time, but your husband needed a lot of care. He suffered some serious injuries—he broke his arm, collarbone, and four ribs. These have been taken care of, along with the internal bleeding.”

The sense of relief left Gwen weak. She
leaned against the wall to support herself.

“That’s the good news. There’s some bad news, too.”

“Oh, God.”

“Your husband also suffered a fractured skull.”

Gwen feared the question she had to ask. “Is there brain damage?”

“I don’t know, but there’s a possibility.”

She felt nauseous. The idea of losing the man she loved punched a hole through her chest where her heart was.

“Please don’t alarm yourself. Currently, Paul’s brain has swollen. We’ve relieved the pressure on it, and that’s good, but he’s currently comatose. We won’t know the extent of the damage until he comes out of the coma. That said, I’m encouraged by what I’ve seen so far.”

Coma. The word came with jagged edges. There was no way of hearing it without it hurting.

“Your husband is in very bad shape, but we’ve done everything we can to counteract that. I expect him to make a recovery, but he has a long road ahead of him.”

Gwen hoped to God that the doctor wasn’t trying to pacify her fears and that Paul would be OK. She couldn’t bear it if he wasn’t. “Can I see him?”

“Of course.”

She thought she’d prepared herself for the worst. She expected Paul to have wires trailing from him and to have bandages, bruising, casts, and dressings. She hadn’t anticipated a monster in place of her husband. Paul’s face was deformed by heavy eggplant-colored bruises. The swelling was so horrific, his features were lost. She was going on trust that this was Paul. She didn’t see one thing that reminded her of her husband. Shock got the better of her, and she broke into sobs. Dr. Korn led her to his office.

It took her a few minutes to gather
herself. Dr. Korn gave her the time and space to recover, never interrupting her with trite assurances.

“When do you expect Paul to be out of his coma?”

“I can’t say. These things are very unpredictable.”

“You’ll call me if anything changes? Day or night?”

“Of course.”

Gwen found Kirsten in the hospital restaurant eating things she shouldn’t be eating, but it hardly mattered. Kirsten wanted to see her dad. Despite her protests, Gwen couldn’t let her. Images of Paul’s disfigured face would never leave her. She couldn’t do that to her daughter.

“Later, baby,” she said. “Daddy’s sleeping and can’t have visitors.”

She thanked the supervisor and carried Kirsten out to the car. Backing out of the parking lot, she felt uncoordinated. She guessed she shouldn’t be driving, but who was there to turn to right now? Everyone seemed a world away with her sister in New York, her parents in Ohio, and Paul’s parents in Florida. It would be so easy to have them come out, but she’d only be putting them in danger. She couldn’t even turn to her friends, since they were giving her a wide berth these days. She realized she’d become quite isolated as the events with Tarbell had unfolded. Yet she’d never felt it until now, without Paul.

She joined the evening traffic, letting it sweep her along.

Her cell phone flashed at her. Messages had been stacking up. She’d been ignoring them while she was in the hospital. She was only interested in hearing from the police or the hospital. Everyone else could wait.

The phone burst into song. The ring tone was Rihanna’s “Umbrella.” It was a fun song Kirsten couldn’t stop singing. It jarred her now.

She picked up the
phone. Jerry Naylor’s name appeared on the caller ID. She answered his call.

“Hi, Jerry.”

“Hey, Gwen. Are you OK? Have I caught you at a bad time?”

When wasn’t it
? she thought.

Paul preoccupied Gwen’s mind on the drive home. She couldn’t imagine what she’d do if he didn’t pull through. Naylor had called to tell her Parker’s parole hearing was on Friday. Parker seemed insignificant right now, but she agreed to be there just to give her some control over her life.

She parked in the garage and walked Kirsten inside. The house felt empty without Paul. She felt it the moment she stepped inside. It was silent. Even when everyone was home and doing their own thing in their own rooms, the place buzzed with their energy. Without Paul, the house was a little quieter, a little colder, and a little darker.

Whether Kirsten felt the same or not, the moment she entered the house, she went straight to her room. Gwen tucked her into bed. As she went downstairs, she hoped tomorrow would bring some optimism.

She flipped on the TV for the noise but switched it back off when the phone rang. Thoughts of the hospital sprang to mind. She grabbed the cordless phone off the charger.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Gwen.”

It was Tarbell. He hadn’t featured in Gwen’s thoughts all day and this was an unwelcome reminder.

“What do you want?”

“I caught the news. Paul’s in bad shape.”

“And why do you care?”

“Because he wasn’t supposed to be found
alive. I thought I’d done enough to kill him.”

Tarbell. She should have known it was him. The attack was filled with his brand of hate. Gwen lowered herself onto the coffee table as the strength bled from her.

“Why’d you do it? Paul hasn’t done anything to you.”

“But he’s important to you. That’s all that matters. You still haven’t gotten it, have you? I’m not finished with you. I won’t be satisfied until you’ve lost everything you hold dear.”