Twisted Justice (28 page)

“Didn't tell anyone that you were raped? You expect me to believe that? Sure you do. You've taken me for a fool all these years.”

“No. I was afraid. I thought you'd make me quit school back then. I didn't want the shame. Then when I knew I was pregnant I didn't know. I still thought — prayed — the father was you. I mean, if it weren't for that blood test, I still wouldn't know.”

“What a fool I am. I've got four kids with blue green eyes, and one with brown — or hazel, as you've always insisted. You knew all the time. How can you sit there and lie to me like this?”

“Steve, I did it for Patrick. I didn't think it would be fair to him to ever let him find out. Please, don't tell him.”

“I won't.” Steve's voice turned hoarse. “He's not my son. I'll take care of my real sons, but I can't face Patrick. That's it.”

Laura burst into new tears. “Please, can't we all be together again?” She took Steve's hand, expecting that he would pull it back, but he didn't.

He looked down at her hand. “What? I don't see how you can even ask me that.”

“The last time we talked you said you wanted us to all go away,” she said in a rush. “Start all over, you know, fresh.”

He stared at her. “That was a lifetime ago. And remember, you said, ‘no'.”

“I've … I've reconsidered.” Laura squeezed his hand, pleading now. “We can put our lives back together.”

His hand squeezed back. “Truth is, Laura, we've both made mistakes. What I learned this morning was a shock, an affront to my manhood. I don't know how I'll live with it. But, I admit I've done things, things I'm not proud of, and I wish we could just go back to those happy years. Remember when we'd sneak out here after Mom and Dad had gone to bed and just talk away the night under the stars?”

Laura nodded, sniffling, pulling out a pack of Kleenex, blowing her nose.

“Remember how thrilled we were when Mikey was born? And then Kev? We survived on loans and scholarships, but, as the song goes, we had the world on a string. Remember how we'd splurge and go out and buy every one of Elvis's albums. Go to all his movies. Even the crummy ones.”

“Yes, I remember,” said Laura. “We were so much in love. What went wrong?”

“I don't know,” he continued, now stroking her hand with his free one. “Busy careers. More kids.” He paused for a long time. “I guess now we know — not enough trust.”

“Steve, about the rape —”

“No, let's not go into that again. You need to get on your way,
and I have to take care of Mike and Kevin.” He placed her hand back on her knee, patting it gently.

Shaking her head, Laura glanced at her watch. “I do have to go. Please, Steve. Change your mind about Patrick.”

He rose from the swing and turned to Laura, clearing his throat. “I hope the surgery goes well. You're right about one thing — this is not Patrick's fault.”

With a deep sigh, Laura stood up. “Okay. Look, I have to say good-bye to Mike and Kevin.”

“The boys are very upset, Laura. I don't want them to see you like this. They're upstairs. I told them not to come down.”

She wiped away tears, hand shaking, but careful not to dislodge her lenses. “Just to say good-bye.”

Without another word, Steve headed into the house through the back door. Laura heard the slide of the bolt. She grabbed the porch rail to steady herself, quickly drawing back as a rusty nail pierced the palm of her hand. A large drop of blood oozed out and with her free hand she reached inside her purse for the one remaining Kleenex and started dabbing the blood away.

Blood. Oh, God, how could she possibly have just given blood without a thought to these consequences?

Greg stood to the side as the MediJet pilots completed their checklist. He'd finally gotten in touch with Rob and learned that the news from Tampa was good: Judge Potter had given verbal permission for Laura to travel from Michigan to Pennsylvania with her sick child. As if answering his wish, the judge had not specified a custodial escort, so there was no necessity for Greg to accompany her, and in his pocket was an airline ticket to Tampa. Celeste would be arriving home from Atlanta, and he had just enough time to make the flight once he saw Laura off. As that time neared, however, he doubted he'd make it.

Laura had returned to the car devastated after talking with Steve. She kept shaking her head, sobbing, “He won't come, he won't come.”

“Give it some time,” Greg advised, worried now that Laura, always so strong, was not going to hold up.

“He won't even let me talk to Mike and Kevin,” she sniffled. “God, would he be able to take them away from me, Greg?”

“I really don't know. It's complicated, as you know, but Carrie's working on it. In the meantime, Steve's very angry right now. Hurt and angry,” was all Greg could think to say as they sped back to the hospital.

“But how can he just reject Patrick? He's always loved him the most of all the kids, and Patrick's so sick. He'll never understand this terrible rejection. Greg, I told him I'd go back with him, move wherever he wants. My God, I'm desperate.”

“After all these years,” Greg said slowly, “I guess it was quite a shock.” He didn't go on to say, ‘How would any man feel finding out nine years later that his wife had fucked another guy?' So far she'd not given him so much as a hint as to how to solve the mystery of Patrick's paternity, and it was obvious that Dr. Laura Nelson was not exactly who she seemed to be. What he did say was, “And both of you are under an incredible amount of stress. Try to remember that you, both of you, are only human.”

The team of white coats had just completed all the connections for the flight — the intravenous lines, the oxygen flow meters, the EKG leads. Then they pushed the small stretcher toward Laura and Greg, who said, “Right now, Laura, you have to concentrate on that little guy over there. Let's get on that plane.”

Laura's eyes brimmed with fresh tears along with a flicker of hope as she looked into his. “Are you coming with us?”

“Well, there's an extra place now.”

“But I thought —”

“It's okay,” Greg glanced around and saw Dr. Chambers and Dr. Robinson heading toward them. Did he have time to call Celeste? No. Besides she'd be in the air by now.

“Dr. Nelson, I'm terribly sorry about this morning,” Dean Chambers said apprehensively. “I just assumed that, well, I am truly sorry.”

Laura nodded as Tim approached her and affectionately put his arm around her. “Come on, honey, let's get this show on the road. Where's our boy?” he called within earshot of Patrick, who lay propped up by several pillows looking nonplussed by all the nurses' attention.

They walked over to Patrick's stretcher and Tim reached out and squeezed the little boy's shoulder. “Our man here is hooked up to oxygen, and we'll keep it flowing throughout the flight, right Pat?”

Patrick nodded.

Tim also nodded, speaking now to the nurses. “We'll hook up the EKG on board for constant monitoring. We've got all the records and we're ready to roll.”

Dr. Chambers formally shook Patrick's hand — the one without the intravenous line hooked to the bottle of clear colorless fluid suspended from the metal hook overhead.

“Have a good trip, buddy,” he said.

“Okay,” Patrick replied. “Do I still have to wear this thing?” He pointed to the plastic oxygen prongs secured below his nostrils with a strap around his head.

“Afraid so,” said the kindly physician.

“That's part of the deal,” added Tim, ruffling the child's chestnut hair.

“Where's Dad, Mom?” Patrick asked Laura.

She tried to smile as she lied, “He'll meet us at the hospital just as soon as he can, honey.”

“'Kay.”

As they boarded the MediJet that would take them to Philadelphia, Greg silently promised to call Celeste the minute they touched down.

The minute Greg walked into his room at the Sheraton Hotel, located directly across the street from Children's Hospital in west Philadelphia, he phoned Celeste in Tampa. She'd said she'd be back by seven and it was already eight, yet her phone just rang and rang. He'd promised her the moon and the stars when they last spoke: cocktails at her place, followed by dinner in Clearwater. They'd drive to Palm Harbor and spend the weekend at his place, waking up to the sound of the Gulf and a leisurely breakfast on the terrace. He'd been so determined to take the weekend off, to make up for lost time with Celeste.

Sitting alone on the edge of the king-size bed, he hoped he'd done the right thing by accompanying Laura to Philadelphia, and that Celeste would understand. As he tried her line again, he thought of the marquis-cut diamond he'd given her eighteen months ago, and of his utter elation when she'd accepted it. Yet they still hadn't set a wedding date. Could it be that she really didn't want to marry him? Maybe they both were too dedicated to their careers. Maybe marriage wasn't right for them? He knew he wanted a family, and she said she did too. But with her constant traveling and the intensity with which they both approached their work, was it possible? He promised himself that after the Nelson case, things would change. He'd promote both Rob and Carrie to senior partner and let them share his responsibilities.

As soon as he'd set the receiver down, the phone rang.

“Celeste?” He assumed that she'd been in the shower or
stepped outside or something before he remembered that she didn't even have his phone number. Didn't even know he was in Philadelphia.

“No,” a familiar woman's voice said. “Greg, is that you?”

“Yes.”

“Greg, it's Carrie. You okay?”

“Hey, Carrie, I'm fine. Any news?”

“Wanted to bring you up to date on what's happening down here. Rob told me you were headed to Philly,” she went on, “but I thought you were coming back —”

“Made a last minute decision. I was supposed to be meeting Celeste tonight, but I can't reach her. She was flying in from Atlanta for a beach weekend.”

“Uh huh. Well, we just had one of those Tampa specials, you know, summer storm complete with booming sound effects and a spectacular lightning show. Her flight was probably delayed. It's okay out there now, but the streets are flooded, so she'll be late for sure.”

“Damn. She takes a direct flight from Atlanta to Miami, then a small prop to Tampa. She hates flying in perfect weather, so a small plane in a storm —”

“I'm sure she's okay.”

“But she doesn't know I'm stuck here,” Greg went on. “She's got Betty's home phone, but I feel like a jerk for standing her up.”

“Hey, she's a smart lady. Just keep trying her, she'll forgive you. Now what's going on with Laura and her son?”

“Well, I'd say she's about as well as can be expected what with a seriously ill son and a failing marriage. I need you to intensify your look into custody and jurisdiction issues in case Nelson really tries to take Mike and Kevin away from Laura.”

“I don't know how she can deal with all this.”

“I don't know that she can, to tell you the truth.

Carrie sighed. “So, are you planning to stay in Philly?”

“I don't know. I'll stay at least until the surgery on Monday. Carrie, they think the child has a tumor in his heart.”

Carrie gasped. “Cancer?”

“They don't know, but they will on Monday. I can't really leave her. You won't believe what's happened. You and Rob have to know this, but I hope we can keep it away from the Tampa gossip machine.”

He then related to Carrie the jarring scene with Dr. Chambers and Steve's reaction.

“It just goes from bad to worse. But I agree, you'd better stay with her,” Carrie responded. “Did she give any explanation at all, I mean, about the child's father? I mean, how could that doctor be so sure?”

“Blood types. Genetics 101, I guess.”

“But to find out now. Doesn't that seem, well, unreal?”

“You know, Carrie, she didn't say a word.” Greg paused. “Nothing to her husband. Nothing to me. She certainly didn't deny it.”

“What a horrible time for it all to come out. At least things are on the upside here. We've made good progress with Sandra Mulloy and the judge. We'll be working all weekend on the motion to dismiss. We want to set it up so the D.A. won't resist it.”

“What more do we need?”

“Well, the D.A.'s office has jump-started an official investigation — the Organized Crime Task Force shaking down Ybor City.”

“All eyes on Santiago.”

“Who's nowhere to be found.”

“Still, it's enough to get them to suspend charges. Good work, you guys.”

“Best to thank Chuck. But,” she went on, “I'm worried about security. Though the D.A. came through and had the Tampa police send an officer to the Palmers, they're still worried. Santiago's a mobster, for heaven's sake. What if word gets out that Molly Palmer can ID him? She could be in real danger.”

“You've got a point. The D.A. has to keep her affidavit confidential, but with all the police involvement, there could always be a leak.”

“We've got to get her better protection. Greg, I promised, that's how we got this far.”

“I know. I think we should get the family out of Tampa.” Greg was quiet for a moment, rubbing his forehead with one hand. “Got it. We can use Celeste's condo. It's on Amelia Island near Jacksonville. Chuck can set it up. They'll need an assumed name to start with.”

“How does that work? What can I do?”

“Let Chuck handle it, he knows the drill. We used it once before as a safe house.”

“Sounds good to me. So who'll talk to the Palmers?”

“You do that. Just be sure to emphasize that secrecy is critical.