Twisted Justice (42 page)

“What will you do?” Jim asked.

“Right now, I'm leaving for Philadelphia with Mike and Kevin. I need to tell the younger kids, but I just don't know how I can.”

“I understand, and Laura, I need to apologize. Who am I to judge what goes on in a marriage? Can you forgive me?”

“I don't need to, Jim, but thank you. We do have to talk about Steve's funeral. Where to take his body —”

“I figure you're still his legal wife, so it's up to you. Of course, I would prefer Traverse City where Steve grew up, but —”

“I think that a funeral and burial in Traverse City would be best too. St. Patrick's, where he was baptized and made his First Communion. And,” she added, “where Philip is buried. I think that Steve would like to be buried next to his twin brother. You know, he never forgave himself for what happened. Always blamed himself.”

“Thank you, Laura,” Jim Nelson said quietly.

“I'll make arrangements for his body, once you give me the name of the funeral home you want to use.”

“Will you be here, Laura, for Steve's burial?”

“Yes, of course, and the four older kids. And Jim, will you make sure they sing “How Great Thou Art”? Steve's favorite gospel song. Did you know that Elvis got a Grammy for it?”

“I will. And please let me know how Patrick is doing.”

“I'll call you tomorrow.”

“Please.”

“Okay then,” Laura said simply, and hung up.

Laura and her two sons flew East at nine p.m. No one spoke much during the two-and-a-half-hour flight. Mike and Kevin each took a window seat and stared out at the deepening night, trying to stifle their snuffles, and Laura sat in the aisle seat next to Kevin, her arm around his shoulders, staring dully ahead trying to figure out just how to break such tragic news to the other children. Not until tomorrow, she decided. Let them sleep in peace for one night.

But how would they handle Steve's death? How would she manage on her own?

Within moments of arriving at the Sheraton suite across from the hospital in Philly, the phone in Laura's room rang. It was just past midnight.

“Yes?” She answered cautiously.

“Only Chuck, Laura.”

“Oh Chuck, it's you.” She had all but forgotten about him.

“I know it's late, but I wanted to make sure you got in okay. Also wanted to let you know what's going on in Tampa and why Greg had to get back. Turns out that a hitter was hired to find and kill the little Palmer child, the one who identified Frank Santiago at Steve's place the night Kim was killed. The guy's a professional, obviously hired by Santiago.”

“Dear God, that's terrible. I had no idea.”

“It's a long story, but we were keeping the child in Celeste Marin's condo on Amelia Island, over by Jacksonville.”

“Celeste, Greg's fiancée? Yes?”

“The one and only. As it turns out, she got suspicious and showed up at the condo at the same time the hitter was setting up the hit. She tried to save the kid and got herself shot instead. That's why Greg left in such a hurry. He wanted to make sure you knew.”

“Dear God. Celeste, will she be okay?”

“Looks like it. Bullet pierced her lung and lodged in her shoulder. It was a freaky thing, but she'll be fine.”

“And the little girl?”

“Molly Palmer's fine too,” Chuck reassured. “Now that we've got Santiago, she should be okay. The guy who tried to take her out's in the slammer too.”

“I have to say, my head is spinning. I've been so absorbed by my own problems, I haven't realized what other people have been going through, because of me. I never even thought about the danger to her — to Carrie's daughter.”

“That's understandable and yes, Elizabeth was staying with Molly Palmer. Both are fine.”

Laura breathed a tired sigh. “Thank God. Tell Greg, and Carrie, I don't know how I'll thank them. And Chuck, one more thing. What was Detective Lopez doing at the Northwest terminal?”

“Right.” Chuck paused. “Well, maybe that's what separates the police from us mere mortals. Apparently he got a tip that Frank Santiago might be on Steve's tail all the way to Michigan.”

“I see,” Laura said, not really understanding. “But why didn't Lopez apprehend Santiago before he got to Steve?”

“You saw Santiago's disguise,” Chuck said with no further explanation.

“Steve must have known something about Santiago, maybe from Kim.”

“We'll see what the scumbag says. So far, he's demanding a lawyer,” Chuck said. “It's probably best not to speculate.”

“You're right. I'm not sure I even want to know. But, Chuck,
thanks for being there with me tonight. Thank you for everything.”

He sighed. “We did our best, Laura, but it just wasn't good enough. So very sorry about Steve.”

“Chuck, I just don't understand.”

“Yeah, I hear you, but how's the little guy?”

“I'm on my way to check him out right now.”

The next morning was bright and sunny and Laura felt a spark of hope when she awoke before remembering that there was still more to face: how to tell the twins and Patrick about Steve. Before trying to sleep last night she'd called her parents, asking that the kids not be told until she got there. The minute she opened her eyes around six, she checked in with the hospital about Patrick's condition — improving — giving her at least some small sense of relief.

After waking the boys at seven thirty, they all walked down the hotel corridor to her parents' suite. Mike said, “Mom, are you going to tell the twins about Dad right off?”

“I don't know, honey. What do you think?”

As soon as Carl Whelan opened the door to the hotel room, everyone hugged and cried and hugged even more. Eventually, Laura nodded to her parents and her sons.

“Nicole, Natalie, my darlings, we have to tell you something,” Laura said. The room went deadly silent and the family arranged themselves on the two king-size beds. The twins flanked their mother on one, the boys on the other with their grandparents.

Nicole's eyes narrowed as she looked around at all the somber faces. “Is it Pat?” She turned to look at Peg. “Grandma, you said this morning that he was doing good!”

“It's not Pat, Nicole,” said Kevin.

“Well, I don't want to know,” said Nicole in a familiar stubborn tone.

“It's Dad,” said Mike.

“Somebody shot Dad,” Kevin cut in. “He got killed yesterday.” His blue eyes brimmed with tears.

Laura and Mike's eyes met. So leave it to Kevin, they seemed to say.

Natalie's eyes searched her mother's. “Mom,” she pleaded, “don't let Kevin say such awful things about Dad.” To Kevin she said, “Kev, that's not funny.”

“It's not a joke, Natalie,” said Mike stoically.

“Yeah,” Kevin went on, “Dad was gonna take us to Alaska. To get us away from Mom. And we were at the airport and Mom came and … and this guy came and just shot Dad. Right, Mom?”

Laura nodded.

“At the airport,” Mike repeated.

Nicole stared at Mike. “I don't believe you.”

“It's true,” he said, glancing away.

As Nicole blinked in disbelief, Natalie just dissolved into tears. Holding both girls tightly, she murmured, “It'll be okay, babies, it's okay.”

“No, it won't,” Nicole said. “We won't have a dad.”

The boys shrank back, trying hard not to cry. Laura held onto her daughters as she started to sob, rocking both girls gently.

After a while, the Whelans suggested that the kids have some breakfast.

Laura nodded and stood up. “Kids, I'm going over to see Patrick now. You'll stay and eat with Grandma and Grandpa, okay?”

Nobody answered. Laura looked at their distraught faces. “Patrick's still sleeping, but he's going to be okay. We're going to be okay now, I promise.”

Laura walked across the street to CHOP slowly, trying now to focus on how her youngest child would react to Steve's death. She was awed by Nicole's reaction. Nicole had made no pretense of her dislike for her father and yet she seemed distraught at the news. Laura's limited experience in child psychiatry told her this did not bode well. Could the child somehow be blaming herself for what happened to Steve? Later, Laura told herself, worry about Nicole later. Right now she needed to concentrate on Patrick. At least, the
little boy would be spared the abandonment that Steve had intended. There was no need for him to know — not ever — that Steve had rejected him, or even more importantly, that he was not Steve's biological child.

As Laura walked into the intensive care unit, her heart fell. Patrick's bed was empty. An aide was stripping off the bedding with practiced, efficient moves. Laura froze. Too often an empty bed signaled the death of a loved one. Just as a deep blackness surrounded her a strong hand on her shoulder drew her back to reality.

She spun around, expecting the worst.

“Laura.” It was a familiar voice. “I'm so sorry about what happened to your husband.”

“Oh, Tim!” Her frightened eyes bore into his. “Where's Patrick?”

“Upstairs. He's off the ventilator so he doesn't need the ICU bed. Come on, let's go up.”

“Oh thank God. Tim, I thought — everything bad has been happening and I thought —”

Tim smiled broadly. “Wrong. Come on, let's go see. This you're gonna like. We're pretty pleased at our handiwork.”

“Yes, of course. Let's go!”

Patrick lay alone in a semiprivate room, hooked up to a heart monitor and connected to an intravenous line and a urethral catheter. His eyes were closed as Laura tiptoed over to the bed and kissed his forehead. “Patrick?”

The child stirred and his eyes opened slightly.

“We've been using short-acting sedatives so that he'd wake up just as you arrived. Looks like we timed it just right,” Tim beamed.

“Patrick,” Laura repeated, again leaning over to kiss him on the forehead. “Honey, you awake?”

The child's eyes opened more widely and a smile crept over his face. “Mommy.”

“You've had a nice long sleep, baby.”

“I'm sleepy. Do I have to get up now?”

“Here, buddy, let me prop you up a bit.” Tim pushed the button on the side of the bed.

“Wh … what's this?” Patrick's eyes left Laura to examine the tube in his nose and then the wires coming from all directions. His free hand touched the bulky protective dressing covering his entire chest.

“You had an operation, honey, remember? We're in the hospital. You're doing just great, but you have to stay in bed for a few more days. Okay?'

“Oh, yeah. Kinda —”

“But you're doing great,” added Laura with a reassuring smile.

“Can they take all this stuff off me? My throat hurts,” Patrick rasped.

“Soon,” said Tim, “but I'll tell you what. If you're hurting we can give you some medicine. And, you can start eating once we get this one out.” He pointed to the tube in his nose. “And that'll make your throat feel better.”

“Okay,” said Patrick weakly, “I'm tired.” He looked up suddenly. “Where's Dad?”

“Oh, he's not here right now,” she gulped. “Honey, try to go back to sleep, okay?”

The child was asleep before he could answer. Laura turned to Tim. “Dear God, how can I ever tell him?”

“You will, but not right now.”

“Next time he wakes up? Should I? What will it do to him, to his heart?”

“Kids are tough, Laura. He'll be okay. He has you and the other kids.”

Laura stayed with her youngest son for a few more minutes. Then she and Tim left quietly to join the others across at the hotel. Halfway down the hospital corridor she met her father, coming to sit with Patrick.

“Dad,” she fell into his arms. “I didn't tell him, I just couldn't. He'll be devastated.”

“I know, I know. You'll tell him soon. You go on now, I'll stay with the little man.”

“Thanks, Dad. If it weren't for you and Mom, I just —”

Carl Whelan shook his head slowly. “You and the children are safe, that's what matters. The nightmares are over, and you can get back to your life now.”

It was the day before Thanksgiving as Laura and Roxanne sat at the round table in the staff lounge sipping a cup of tea, a plate of homemade cookies on the counter. Both were exhausted after a long day of difficult surgical procedures and looking forward to the long holiday weekend.

Laura kicked off her sturdy, scuffed nurse shoes and fluffed her hair as it cascaded down from the surgical cap she'd worn all day. “So what's on the agenda for tomorrow?”

“Mom's doing the cooking, thank goodness. Louis, Will, and Louis, Jr., and of course my little Jose, are coming over. I really miss that little guy since they moved to one of those big old houses in Hyde Park. As soon as he's well enough, Louis plans to start the renovation.”

“That's great, Roxie.”

“And he's so grateful that you worked things out for him at the hospital. Getting them to cover the medical bills and the half million settlement means so much, I can't tell you. It's not only the house, but now they have a replacement car, a big station wagon. And, well, a life.”

“Which you are a big part of, if I'm not mistaken.” Laura grinned at her friend, relieved that she'd made the decision to stick by Roxanne during the resolution of the Ruiz malpractice case. As soon as she'd returned to Tampa from Philadelphia, Laura set up a meeting with Cliff Casey, Tampa City Hospital's CEO.