Chapter 24
MARIE WAS SITTING in the waiting room when Erik and Garret made it to the hospital. The glass-walled room had curved gray-and-brown couches and white linoleum floors. Her hands clasped as if in prayer, and she looked as if she’d aged ten years in the last half hour. If she was surprised to see Erik there in his mask, she didn’t say anything. Cynthia’s eyes widened at the sight of Erik, but she sat silently by Marie’s side, her eyes focused on the floor with apparent worry.
“Where is Christine?” Erik asked.
“They took her back right away.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Things got worse in the ambulance. She has a fever of one hundred and five. She still hasn’t regained consciousness.”
“Do they have any idea what’s wrong with her?” he asked, feeling just as helpless as he did over the Zoom call.
As they spoke, Dr. Yoon ran up, his sleeves rolled up, his tie gone.
“Erik, this is Mitchell Yoon. Mitch, this is Erik Gardner.”
While they had both sat on the board of the opera for several years, they hadn’t met in person. If Dr. Yoon wasn’t expecting a man with a mask, he was polite enough to keep his mouth shut. Only a brief flicker of his eyes to Erik’s face betrayed any reaction .
“They have her on an IV with antibiotics while they try to bring her temperature down. Marie, did she complain about feeling sick this morning? Did she have any symptoms? A sore throat? Chills?”
“No, she was absolutely fine. A little nervous, but nothing abnormal.”
“Did she eat anything?”
“I don’t know about breakfast, but she didn’t eat lunch. She drank the water, though,” Marie answered.
“She drank the entire bottle,” Erik said. He’d watched her throughout the meeting, frankly desperate for the sight of her.
“Anything else? Is she on any medications?”
“Birth control,” Erik said quietly. “But I don’t know about anything else.”
“Who’s her emergency contact?” Dr. Yoon asked. “Does she have any close family?”
“Christine is an orphan—I don’t know who…” Marie started.
“What about her foster mother? Her name is Val. Is Christine on social media? Perhaps they’re connected. If we can find her name, I can have Reza find her number and address.”
“Let me speak with Meg—she would know.” Marie got out her phone and dialed her daughter. She walked off while Erik turned back to the doctor.
“Can we go see her?” Erik asked Dr. Yoon.
“We need to wait until they admit her. That could be a few hours.”
“Meg says Christine follows a woman named Valerie Clemente who lives in Bayside, Queens.”
“Garret—can you start heading there?”
“On my way. ”
“I’ll call Reza—he has some contacts who might help us find her phone number. Marie, can Meg message her? Maybe she has her phone with her.”
“Already done, and Meg is on her way.”
Time was moving entirely too slowly for Erik. Garret was on his way to Queens with an address gathered from a lucky Google search. Both men hoped the information was up-to-date. Valerie had yet to respond to Meg’s DM.
Dr. Yoon returned every half hour with updates. They’d managed to stave off further seizures with Depakote and had successfully brought her heart rate down. Still, her temperature wasn’t going down, and they were concerned she would need a breathing tube.
As Erik looked at Marie, almost in tears, his gaze caught on Cynthia, who sat with her hand on Marie’s shoulder. Something niggled at his mind. When Christine stood at the board meeting, she turned and looked at someone with an accusing glare. She said something, but it was at a low volume, and he couldn’t make it out. Was it aimed at Cynthia? Christine had never mentioned Cynthia to him directly, but he’d sensed she wasn’t fond of the woman.
His phone rang—Garret was calling. “Erik, I have Christine’s foster mother here. She’s coming back to the hospital with me. Do you want to speak with her?”
“Yes, put her on.” Erik turned on the speakerphone so he and Dr. Yoon could hear her speak.
“Mr. Gardner, thank you for reaching out to me. Your associate says the doctor needs to know about Christine’s medical history.” Worry was evident in the older woman’s voice.
“Yes, thank you, Miss Clemente. Can you tell us if Christine has a history of seizures or diabetes?” Dr. Yoon asked tightly.
“No, nothing like that. She’s always been healthy as a horse. Most she ever got was a stomach virus.”
“Do you know if she takes any medications?” Dr. Yoon asked.
“She takes Zoloft for anxiety and has been on it since her senior year of high school. I can send you the name of her doctor.”
“Thank you, Miss Clemente. That’s very helpful. We’ll see you soon,” Dr. Yoon said before nodding for Erik to end the call. He sighed. “Zoloft is unlikely to have caused anything like this on its own.”
“You say ‘on its own.’ What if it was combined with something else?” Erik asked.
“Do you think Miss Derring was drugged?”
“I’m suspicious of the woman holding her purse like it’s the holy grail.” He nodded to Cynthia, who sat rigid in her chair and looked ready to bolt.
“Can you think of a reason why we’d need to search her?”
“I don’t care enough to come up with an excuse.” Erik stormed over to Cynthia and took her handbag before she could utter a word in protest.
“Mr. Gardner! What are you doing?”
Erik ignored her, rifling through her bag.
“Give me my bag right now! You have no right to do that! What are you even looking for?”
“Erik—what—what are you doing?” Marie stared at him with concern.
“Did you give her something? I saw the look on Christine’s face at the meeting. She thought you did something. What did you do? ”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she yelled, but her face had gone white. “Give me my bag back right now! You can’t look through my purse. It’s not legal!”
Erik ignored her, finding common items in her purse. He opened a zipper and found exactly what he was looking for—a mostly empty pill bottle.
“Amphetamine salt combo ER.” Erik looked at Dr. Yoon. “What is that?”
“Generic name for Adderall.” Dr. Yoon turned on Cynthia with fury. “Forty milligram pills. How much did you give her?”
“I have ADHD. That’s my medication.”
“I don’t doubt it. How much did you give her? This is very important.” Dr. Yoon pressured her to confess.
“I don’t have to tell you anything.”
“Listen, you bitch, if you don’t tell me what you did, I will make your life a living hell.” Erik charged her. Cynthia stepped back and slipped, grabbing in front of her for purchase. Unintentionally, she grabbed his mask. As he closed upon her, he felt a vicious satisfaction at the look of fear on her face. His face was a weapon, and he would wield it if necessary. He wrapped his hand around her arm. “Tell me what you did, Cynthia.” His voice was cold and calm, and she stared at him with blank horror.
“I put three pills in her water. Rafe mentioned she gets anxious when she speaks—I thought it would make her m-mess up. I wanted to make her look bad. I didn’t think she would drink all of it.” She began to wail in mingled horror and fear.
“Is that what you needed to know?” He looked at Dr. Yoon, who nodded and swallowed. Erik was beyond caring if the man was shocked by his face.
“Yes. Yes! Zoloft with a massive dose of Adderall together…” He closed his eyes in thought. “It’s serotonin syndrome. It’s serotonin syndrome!” He turned and ran through the doors of the emergency room to where Christine lay unconscious.
Erik grabbed his mask from Cynthia’s nerveless fingers and affixed it to his face. Cynthia sat sobbing on the floor of the waiting room.
“Marie—call the police.”
Everything hurt. Soreness pervaded her entire body, from her legs that felt bruised and battered up through her abdomen, which felt like she’d done 1000 crunches. Her head pounded, making the late afternoon light coming through window blinds feel like a hammer. She moaned and moved her hand and was surprised when she felt slight resistance—she had an IV.
“Christine…” Erik spoke softly. Why was his voice always a balm against the assault of other input? “You’re awake.” She heard the relief in his voice.
“The blinds, please,” she whispered, and felt the immediate relief when they were drawn. She opened her eyes experimentally. The room was dark except for a slight reflection of the hallway lights on the floor and the light that leaked through the bottom of the windows. “Where am I?”
“You’re at Columbia Presbyterian Hospital. You’ve been here for thirty-six hours. You’re going to be okay.” He took her hand in his.
“What happened to me?” She tried to remember the meeting. She had a flash of falling on the floor—then nothing.
“Cynthia drugged you with an extremely high dosage of Adderall. It’s a drug for ADHD. Her reasoning seems to be that it would make your heart race and worsen your stage fright during the meeting. Unfortunately, it combined with the Zoloft you take and caused something called serotonin syndrome. It caused you to have seizures and raised your temperature to 105 degrees. Your heart was racing at 140 beats per minute.”
“I was drugged?”
“Yes. The excellent news is you’re going to be okay. You were treated with cyproheptadine and Depakote, as well as oxygen and intravenous fluids. You were fortunate the underlying cause was discovered so quickly. You’ll need to take it easy for the next few weeks, but you should fully recover. Dr. Yoon will be here in the morning. He and the other doctors here saved your life.”
“Dr. Yoon—the board member?”
“He was with you the whole time, and so was Marie. Would you like to know who else came by?”
Christine nodded. Her throat hurt. She wanted Erik to keep talking in his soothing whisper.
“Meg, Rafe, Valerie, and Theresa. Reza wants to visit but he wanted to make sure you were okay with it. You’ve had quite a few people worried about you. That professor you like so much sent some flowers.” He looked back toward the dark portion of the room where Christine imagined an arrangement was sitting. She’d look at it later after she slept.
“Is it okay if I sleep some more?” She didn’t think she could stay awake. Exhaustion suffused every bone and muscle in her body. Her head felt thick with it.
“Of course.”
“Will you sing to me?” she asked, her own voice soft in the dark room.
“Whatever you need…” Erik hummed as if considering what to sing before choosing one of the songs that brought them together in the first place. Christine let herself be soothed to sleep by Erik’s rendition of “Vi enna.”
When she woke again, Val and Meg were at her bedside and the light had changed. It was morning. By her judgment, she’d slept another twelve hours. She felt significantly better than the day before but still quite weak.
“Christine, welcome back!” Meg noticed she was awake first. She moved from the chair by the door and sat beside Christine’s bed. “We missed you.”
“You didn’t need to go to so much trouble to get my attention, Chris.” Valerie smiled at her warmly. Her foster mother’s concern made her feel an unexpected warmth inside.
“How did you know about me?”
“Your young man sent his driver for me, and he put me up at a lovely hotel nearby. It’d be a treat if I weren’t so terrified for you.”
Christine was moved and gave Val a soft smile.
“If Val hadn’t told Erik and Dr. Yoon you take Zoloft, they wouldn’t have figured out why you got so sick,” Meg added.
“How did he figure out what Cynthia had done?”
“He noticed something in how you looked at her at the board meeting. It made him suspicious—and a good thing, too. They might have taken much longer to figure out what was wrong with you if he hadn’t. You could have gotten much sicker.” Val explained.
“Well, mostly good.” Meg hemmed. “Things got a little heated in the ER waiting room.”
“What happened?” She raised her eyebrows in concern.
“Erik was confronting Cynthia, and his mask came off. Someone was recording…”
“I never thought I’d say this, but I hate smartphones.” Christine groaned.
“Perhaps we should wait to tell…” Valerie suggested.
“No, I want to know. What happened?”
Meg pulled out a copy of the New York Post . Christine saw Erik’s face plastered on a corner of the front page. The headline screamed, “The Mask Is Off: Gardner Exposed at City Hospital.”
Christine opened the paper and read.
Police officers from the 33rd Precinct were called to the emergency department at Columbia Presbyterian on Wednesday night following an altercation between a man and a woman.
The man, billionaire financier Erik Gardner, was seen cornering an employee of his after taking her purse. Bystanders say Mr. Gardner (35) had uncovered that the woman, Cynthia Dobrin (32), had drugged a third woman who was under the care of doctors in the emergency department.
Videos of the event show Mr. Gardner, who has long cultivated a high degree of privacy, struggles with severe facial scarring. This news came as a surprise to many who know and work with Mr. Gardner. Sources say Mr. Gardner did not come to his firm’s offices but worked through intermediaries over the years. Public events that featured his attendance included his annual gala at the Gardner Opera House and a recent Halloween video of Mr. Gardner singing with employee Christine Derring. Both events featured Mr. Gardner in a mask.
The article continued from there. Christine hated the gossipy tone of the Post but never so much as right now.
“Ugh, Page Six, too?” she said when she noticed the society column discussing the event. “Poor Erik,” Christine whispered. Is that why he’s not here now?” She looked up at Meg and Val. She’d understand if that was the case. He’d exposed himself in the most public way possible in her defense .
“No, he was here until you woke up the first time. We made him go home, take a shower, and get some rest. He said he’ll be back by noon. He asked us to fill in for him in case you woke up. He didn’t want you to be alone.” Val brushed a stray piece of hair off Christine’s forehead.
“He even called Rafe, who came by yesterday and dropped off flowers.” Meg pointed out a large number of arrangements behind her.
“You got some from the Jessie Skies!” Val exclaimed, acting much younger than she was at sixty-two.
Meg ignored Val’s comment with an eye roll. “Erik just wanted to ensure you were with people who care about you.”
Christine struggled to think of the right words. “That’s nice of him.” But nice was so weak a word for how he’d come to her rescue. Sometime later, when she wasn’t so exhausted, she’d think about the sacrifice he’d made for her. Had anyone ever done as much for her as he’d done in the last two days?
“Do you think you can eat something, dear?” Val asked. “The food here is atrocious, but Erik said we can order anything you like on DoorDash. He also sent up a few pints of that soup you like.”
“Of course he did.” She looked at Meg with a smile. Meg shrugged but smiled back. “I’d like some soup. Thank you.”