Chapter 8
“I don’t understand how somebody got in,” Heath remarked as they all sat in the Kirland Security conference room with Will and the guy he chose for sweeping. “We already changed the locks. Right after the explosion.”
Will said, “Didn’t do any good, though. Which doesn’t make any sense, unless there’s a way in and the police didn’t find it when they searched the place.” He turned to his cohort, Adam Ransom. “Put it on the list to scour for another way in.”
Juliet clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, no.”
“What?
“What?”
“What?”
Her gaze swept to Finn. “Don’t you remember, Finn?”
Finn’s face blanked. Then his eyes widened. “Dear God in heaven.”
“Somebody tell us,” Heath practically yelled.
“I lost my keys inside the building. Juliet drove me home that night, and I left my car here. When we got back the next day, the keys were on the counter in the common area.”
“You didn’t think that was odd?” Ransom asked.
“No, I thought the cleaning people found them.”
Will shook his head. “Overnight would be enough time to duplicate the key.”
“I’m so sorry.” He scowled. “I’ll pay for the new locks.”
“No,” Oliver said, “we’ll all chip in like the last time.”
Daisy flushed. “I can’t chip in again. I use every bit of my paycheck to support me and my son.”
“I’m sorry about that, Daisy,” Finn said. “But don’t worry. I’m paying this time. We have plenty of money so no objection.”
“You and your movie star wife.”
“Yeah, Heath. Me and my movie star wife.” Finn’s tone was sarcastic, telling Oliver how bad he felt.
“Will we have to close down to get new locks?” Juliet asked.
Adam said to Will, “I got a lock guy. He’ll come after hours with his crew and they’ll be out by the morning.”
“Okay.” Oliver looked at the others. “Somebody’s got to call Marshall.”
Nobody volunteered.
“What happened with him?” Will asked.
“He’s pissed we talked him into going to the FBI.”
“I’ll bet. I’ll call him, if you want.”
“No,” Oliver said. “We’re all adults. I’ll do it.”
* * *
Gloved and gowned, Anabelle walked into the operating room to place a mitroclip on a leaky heart valve.
A comprehensive evaluation had been completed by the heart valve team and the anesthesiologist had put the patient to sleep.
The four-hour surgery was routine but delicate and required complete concentration.
“Scalpel,” she said to her nurse. Anabelle made a small incision in the groin which had been cleaned and shaved. “I need the tube.”
She inserted a wire with the tube on the end into the incision and passed it up through the leg vessels to the right side of the heart, then into the left side of the heart for a trans-septal puncture. Now she had access to the mitral valve.
“Mitroclip.” She passed this up through the tube and into the left side of the heart. Then she positioned it over the leaky mitral valve using the delivery system.
For four hours, Anabelle worked with meticulous care and at a slow speed. When it was over, she stepped away, gently stretched her back in and out to relieve the stress she’d undergone. “Thank you everyone,” she said to her team. “Good work.”
After removing her cap and her gown as she walked toward the door, she stuffed them into a bin and left the surgical suite. She was utterly drained and exhausted. Still, she felt the uplift she got from every surgery she did.
She smiled. Maybe Oliver would give her one of his famous massages tonight when she saw him.
* * *
Oliver sat in his office and read over his next client’s information page. Pretty standard stuff. Oh, wait. She liked the idea of massage therapy because it combined stretching and deep tissue massage. Huh. So she knew something about massage therapy.
He got up and walked into the treatment area. The client was on the table, facing down and obviously naked. “I’m back. Is the bed warm enough?”
“Yes, it’s heated.”
“By a coil blanket.”
She sniffed. “And the room smells great. Lavender?”
“Right. Now, you indicated that you prefer equal amounts of massage and stretching.”
“Yes. That’s why I picked you as opposed to a routine massage place.”
Oliver started the Asian music background and stood by the table on one side.
First he pressed his open palms on the scapula and rubbed back and forth increasing pressure somewhat, then down to the shoulder and waist, then to the butt and finally to the feet.
With both fists, he kneaded the soles of each one.
Then he bent one arm at a right angle. He stretched it up and braced it with one of his arms underneath and held the position.
He moved down to one knee and stretched it back to the butt, held that and repeated the move on the right side.
Finally, he bent both legs up and pressed gently.
Finally, he settled the legs onto the table, stretching them out.
He crossed the client’s feet and pressed them down one way then crossed them the other way and did the same.
Through all the movements, he could feel the tension flow from her body.
At the end of the massage/stretch session, he put the lights up halfway. “Stay where you are for as long as you like. When you’re ready, gently move to your side then sit up.”
Some masseuses left the room for this, but he waited till she completed the movements to make sure she was steady when she stood.
“I’ll leave now and you can get dressed. When you’re done, open the door and I’ll come back in.”
He left the room. Some sessions tired him out, like this one. So he leaned against the wall and relaxed there until the door opened.
* * *
Oliver drove to Anabelle’s house, looking forward to seeing her. Thinking of the night ahead, he grinned and pulled into her driveway. His cell rang before he could get out of his car. “Oliver Ricardi.”
“Oliver, this is Helen Sorge, your mother’s friend. I stopped over to see her today and found her laying on her garden path. She said someone tripped her. I got her inside but she won’t let me call 911.”
“Is she hurt?”
“Yeah. Her wrist is painful and she’s got a cut on her forehead.”
“I’ll be right there.” He clicked off.
A knock on the window startled him. He buzzed it down. “Anabelle.”
“Hello, love.” She frowned. “What happened?
He held up the phone. “My mother fell. She won’t go to the hospital. Her neighbor called me.”
“Let me get my bag.”
He noticed as she walked away that her hair had been curled and she wore a pretty white dress. For him. She was back in minutes and slid in the other side.
He scowled. “Not exactly what I was hoping for tonight.”
“Me, either.” She cocked her head. “You look nice.”
“I was just thinking the same thing about you.”
She kissed his cheek. “We better get over there.”
It took fifteen minutes to arrive at the old, worn house he’d grown up in.
The evening was still sunny and warm as they got out of the car and he led her in through the side door.
His mother was seated at the kitchen table, with an ice pack on her wrist, and gauze taped to her head.
Helen Sorge stood. “This is the best I could do.”
“Thank you, Helen.” As the neighbor left, he kissed his mother’s cheek. “I’m sorry this happened to you, Mama. You remember Anabelle Baxter. She was your doctor.”
Ignoring the introduction, his mother looked up at him with bruised eyes. “Somebody tripped me, Oliver. A man, in black, I think.”
“Okay, Mama. But for now Anabelle needs to take care of you.”
She nodded. “Dr. Baxter.”
“You can call me Anabelle now, Mrs. Ricardi.”
His mother didn’t respond in kind.
Oliver sat down next to her and held her other hand. Anabelle cleaned the cut on her head, applied some salve and placed a bigger, more secure bandage over it. His mother only winced.
Her eyes narrowed on Oliver. “You have one, too.”
“Yeah. I tripped at the collective.”
His mother cringed when Anabelle examined her wrist but she didn’t cry out. Sometimes she could be tough as nails.
“Nothing’s broken. Just bruised.” She fished in her bag and took out a black, fabric brace. “I have to immobilize your wrist with this.”
She allowed Anabelle to slip it on. “That makes it feel better.”
“Yes, the brace or even a cast eases the pain.”
Again, she looked to Oliver. “Listen to your mother. A man tripped me in the garden then fled.”
“Are you sure, Mama? Maybe you don’t want to worry me if you fell on your own.”
“That is not it, son.”
“But a man….” He had a sudden realization. “My God.”
“What’s wrong?” Anabelle asked.
“Nothing. Mama, why don’t I settle you in bed and you can rest.”
“I need to.”
She felt thin and frail as she leaned against Oliver on the way to her bedroom. He drew back the covers, helped her in, and got a pillow to put beneath her hand and wrist.
“I’m not imagining things, Oliver.”
“I understand, Mama, I’ll look into it. I promise.”
She closed her eyes.
He found Anabelle seated at the kitchen table. Everything was cleaned up. “She’ll be okay, Oliver.”
“I know. But, Anabelle, if a man was really here, it could be related to the incidents happening at the collective.”
“I hope not.”
“Me, too. I’m going to call Marshall. You can go if you want to, honey.”
“No way. I’m staying with you.”
Just as he took out his cell, his phone rang. Oliver clicked on. “Marshall, I was about to call you.”
“First let me tell you I have good news. We located the woman who set the explosion in the collective.”
“It was a woman?”
“Yeah. No motive yet. But Kirkland’s guys found a trail that led to her. Why were you going to call me?”
“My news isn’t so good. My mother took a tumble in her garden. She’s adamant that a man was here and tripped her.”
“How old is your mother?”
“Sixty-eight. And before you ask, she’s as sharp as a tack. But I’m sorry to say that she’s a master at manipulating people to get what she wants.”
“What would she want in this?”
“My attention. Me staying here.”
“Then stay with her until I can talk to her.”
“How soon would that be?”
“I can come right over. It’s best to interview a victim as soon as possible after the incident.”
“Maybe you should wait an hour. Let her nap. I’ll be here.”
* * *
After Marshall interviewed his mother, Rosalina went back to bed. Oliver and Anabelle sat at the table with him.
“You’re right. She’s coherent and clear about what happened.”
Oliver scrubbed his hand over his face. His heart beat fast in his chest. “I can’t believe this. That somebody would go to these lengths to hurt us. Me, anyway. Maybe I’m the one he or she is after.”
“It’s too soon to determine that, Oliver.”
“I’m not so sure it is.” This came from Anabelle. “Let’s consider that. If it is just you then there are steps the police can take to protect you.”
Marshall said, “It isn’t just you. First, Finn was attacked in the parking lot.”
“You’re not calling that a carjacking?”
“Not anymore. Besides he got beat up pretty bad. Then Juliet had the incident where boxes were cut and they fell on her leaving a huge bruise. Then the snake was in her yoga room.”
Oliver sighed.
“Then you had an explosion at the practice, then the guard killed. These things were spread out among all of you.”
“I understand what you’re saying. I still have to protect my mother. I’m calling my brother in Syracuse so she can stay with him.”
“Good idea.”
Oliver took out his phone and stood, but before he dialed, he said, “You know Captain. You call all of us by our first name. What’s yours?”
“Jeff.”
“Hmm. Okay, Jeff.”
Oliver stepped off to the side and clicked into Matt’s number. Thankfully, his brother answered. “Hi, Oliver.”
“Hi. Listen, Mama was in the garden today and fell. She hurt her wrist and got a bruise on her forehead.”
“That’s awful. How is she?”
“Physically, she’s doing all right. She’s unhappy though.”
“You don’t have to take care of her all by yourself.”
“Actually, Matt. I can’t take care of her at all.”
“What are you saying?”
“I didn’t want my family to worry so I haven’t told you what’s happening at work.” As succinctly as he could, Oliver told him the details about the collective.
“Dear God in heaven. Are you safe?”
“Yeah. But Mama should stay with one of you until this is over. In case there was a man here, which I’m beginning to think there was.”
“Of course. I want to help. So will Jenny. Should I come over to Mama’s right now?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“I’ll be there buddy. You can count on us.”
* * *
They’d waited for Matt to arrive, then Anabelle drove Oliver to her house. Rain drizzled onto the windshield and the wipers kept up their squeaky motion. When they arrived at her house, she said, “Come inside, now.”
“Yeah, I will. My headaches from the barbell incident finally went away but now I have another one.”
Anabelle wasn’t surprised. He’d been under stress since Finn was attacked. A month worrying could be overwhelming and the wear and tear on him was showing.
Once inside, he blew out a heavy breath. “Let’s have a drink.”
“No. Headaches and alcohol don’t mix well. But I’ll get you some ibuprofen.”
When she came back with it, he gulped back the pills. “Let’s sit for a while.”
They dropped down on her couch and she took his hand. “I know this is awful, but at least your mother’s safe tonight.”
“Yeah. I hate that Matt moved to Syracuse, but at least they’re out of the area.” He slid one arm around her and kissed her head. “You sure you don’t want to stop seeing me for a while? I’m not letting you go forever, but we could take a hiatus until this is over with.”
“Let me think about that. I’d hate not seeing you. Even for a bit.”
“Me, too.” He stared into her eyes. “I love you, Anabelle. I’ve known for a while so this isn’t stress induced.”
Her heart skipped a beat. She smiled. “I love you, too.”
“Now that makes me feel good. Really, really good.”
She stood. “Come on, we’re going to bed.”
“My head’s pounding, honey.”
“I’m going to give you a massage. It’ll help.”
“Wait, what?”
“When was the last time you had one instead of giving one?”
“I can’t remember.”
“So, you can relax and maybe you’ll sleep.”
“And maybe after a nap, we can do some hanky panky.”
“Hanky panky sounds great to me.”
“Yeah. Me too.”