Chapter 17 Demons
Reagan was scheduled to have her first ultrasound in a week. Both House and Reagan were excited;House kept telling her that he wanted one of those grainy polaroids of the ultrasound that he could frame saying, "My Fetus can Kick Your Fetus's Tail." She corrected him gently, "Unborn Baby."
Reagan had been instructed by Cuddy to focus on the Emergency Room grants. Having found two grant proposal requests, she was sure that they would be a good fit for the Emergency Room. When she met with the head of the department, Kurt Simindinger, she found him waiting impatiently in the ambulance bay for three ambulances full of victims of an automobile accident. While they were discussing the grant proposals, an ambulance pulled up not associated with the accident. There were no sirens, but the drivers still worked quickly to get the patient out of the ambulance.
Kurt yelled at the guys, "Hey, I need you guys out of here as soon as you unload him. We have several busses coming in. What have you got?"
"Male, caucasion, 40, unconscious. Called in by his girlfriend."
"Insurance?"
"Yeah, here's his card." The paramedic said as he handed over the card.
"Okay, Cathy." Kurt yelled to the nurse who was running in their direction, "Here's his card, Robert Jakes, put him in room 3."
Reagan was writing down the Emergency Room budget parameters that Kurt had given her when she heard him call out, Robert Jakes. As the paramedics wheeled him by, she tried to get a good look, but his head was turned and the paramedics were rolling him quickly down the corridor. Reagan's heart started pounding and her head was screaming.
Robert Jakes? It can't be. Robert Jakes? How old would he be now? He was about two or three years older than me. That would make him about 40. Robert Jakes is here? Why?
Reagan stumbled back and would have fallen except that Kurt grabbed her, "Reagan, are you okay?"
"Yeah, Kurt. Can we do this tomorrow?" Her voice sounding constricted and small, like a child's.
He could see she was dazed. Her upper lip had small beads of sweat over it and she looked ashen, like she was going to faint, "Sure tomorrow's fine. Are you sure you're okay? Why don't you let one of the doctors look at you?"
"I'm just a little sick to my stomach. Thanks, I'll see you tomorrow." She turned, feeling wobbly and the walls were closing in on her.
As she left Kurt yelled out, "Hey Reagan, thanks for your help, I understand you've already submitted one grant for our department. Thanks, no one else seems to care about us down here."
"They care, they just haven't had time before to do anything." Reagan smiled and left Kurt to wait for the ambulances. She went to Emergency Room 3 and saw a nurse hooking the patient up to monitors and an I.V. Reagan got a good look at the face and knew she wasn't mistaken. The man in front of her was almost 6 feet with handsome features. His face reminded her of Robert Redford when he was younger. The brown hair was grayer, his eyes and upper lip had more wrinkles. He was thinner and his skin slightly yellow, but it was him. Robert Jakes was lying on the white sheets of the gurney like an apparition from her past.
Reagan's body felt heavy. It took all of her energy to drag herself back to her office and sit down. Her stomach rolled over and over. Staring out the window at the cold, dove gray sky, she realized that it was snowing. Reagan looked at her cheap Timex watch and was surprised that she had been sitting there for an hour. She called Cuddy's office. "Lisa? It's Reagan. I'm not feeling well, I'm taking off, but I should be in tomorrow.'
"If you're feeling sick maybe you ought to have someone examine you? Does House know?"
"No, I'll be okay. I just need to lie down."
Reagan was lucky to get home. In fact, she didn't even remember how she got home. The drive was a blur to her, her mind a quagmire. Sitting down in the easy chair, she held his stomach and stared ahead remembering the scene at customs with the damn beagles. She had been looking forward to getting home from South America. Her mother was waiting for her at LAX to drive her to San Diego. But as she pulled her bags from the carousel, the good looking customs agent with the beagles was being dragged towards her. Their yapping and excitement was unnerving. It was embarrassing when the agent approached with the barking dogs. She felt an arm under her shoulder and soon she was being pulled towards a door as she dragged her luggage with her other hand.
I was put in that small room, that horrible little room. Just me and my claustrophobia.
She flashed to the look on her Mom's face when the sentence was pronounced. They had worked on the plea bargain for a month and knew what was coming, but her mother's face was still distraught when the judge ordered the five years. It was as if her Mom was hoping the judge would see what a sweet, innocent girl Reagan was and miraculously dismiss the charges. He didn't and Reagan kissed her Mom on the cheek as she was led away to jail and then to prison. The tears were streaming down her mother's tired and stressed face like a a drip from a water tap that couldn't be shut off. The monthly visits from her Mom in prison were even more painful. Her worry about Reagan's health and happiness was an anchor that pulled her mother's face down further and further with each visit.
Reagan never forgot the day her Aunt called her in prison. The guards came and got her, taking her to an office, not the normal reception room with the telephone, but the counselor's office. Her aunt was crying, "Your Mom has cancer, lung cancer. Honey, it's stage four, they can't operate. They aren't even going to give her chemo." The guilt and pain of not being with her Mom through the cancer came flooding back. The fact that her Mom died alone had been a huge cross for Reagan to carry. Reagan hardly spoke to anyone the year after her Mom died. At one point they put her on suicide watch, but Sadie had kept her from doing anything stupid.
She thought of Robert Jakes and the many years of her life he had taken from her; not to mention the feelings of worthlessness she felt when she got out-the pain as she was turned down over and over for a job. She went numb.
House got home at 5:45 p.m. "Cuddy said you went home sick, is that true?" Reagan stared up at him but there was no recognition. "Reagan? Honey? Are you okay?"
She didn't respond. House bent down and looked in her eyes. She was tracking him but she seemed spaced out. He yelled, "Reagan!"
She blinked and looked up at him, "Greg?"
'What the hell were you thinking about? You were in another dimension."
She stood up, looked at him and said, "I was just thinking about the ultrasound next week. How real it will be to us after we see it."
"Dinner?"
"I'm sorry, I didn't cook anything."
He was disappointed, "Well let's get something ordered in."
"Yeah, okay."
House ordered in Chinese and when it arrived he fixed himself a plate, but she didn't move from the chair.
She's just sitting there, why? I guess I should make her a plate.
House pulled down another plate, put some food on it and took it into her. He sat down on the sofa and looked at her. She was just staring. He put the food down in front of her on the coffee table. "Reagan, it's the shrimp we like." He watched as she just sat there staring at the food. "Aren't you hungry honey?"
There was a pause before she finally looked in his eyes, "Huh? Oh, no. I'm not hungry, thanks."
He leaned over and put his hand on her forehead. She wasn't running a fever. He tilted her chin so he could get a good look in her eyes, "Reagan, you're worrying me. Come on, what's happened?" She was apparently in shock over something.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her over with him onto the couch., holding her, he kissed the top of her head. House held her untll she finally went to sleep in his arms. An hour later he woke her to go to bed. They went into bed, but Reagan, still mulling over what Jakes had done to him. Sitting on the edge of the bed she took no steps to climb under the covers.
"Sweetheart, why don't you get under the covers?"
She finally laid back and stared at the ceiling. House, still unsure what was wrong, pulled her over to him and held her tight, really tight. He felt the belly, rubbing it over and over to soothe her.
She's asleep. She's so beautiful. I love her little figure. Her body is rounder, her belly is rounder, her breasts rounder. This pregnancy thing is so overwhelming, so fascinating. She even smells different-in a good way, like almond hand lotion. Maybe I should call in sick tomorrow and stay home with her. Something has upset her. House kissed her ear and fell asleep.
When the alarm went off, Reagan was already in the shower. House came in to take a leak and see how she was doing.
"How are you feeling?'
She yelled over the shower curtain, "Okay. I'm going to take my car today, I have some errands to run."
"I'll be home around 5:30, I have that department heads meeting." House announced.
"Fine." she stopped the shower and was getting out. After wrapping herself in a towel, she grabbed him and stared into his eyes for an inordinate amount of time. "I really love you, Greg. Just the way you are. The most important thing in the world to me is that you try to be happy. Okay?"
He scrunched up his face. She was trying to say something without saying it, "You're not making sense."
"I know." Reaching up on her tip toes, she kissed his lips and then hugged him.
"Reagan, you're acting weird. I don't think you should go in to work. I'll call in and we can stay home, watch some old movies."
"No, I have things to do. I love you honey."
He didn't know why, he wanted to say something funny or biting, but something inside told him that he needed to let her know what he was feeling. He held her by her shoulders and said it slow and deliberately, "I love you and the baby. You're everything to me, you do know that?"
She just nodded and went into the bedroom to get dressed. House had a horrible feeling that he was being flung into a fate he had no control over. He almost grabbed her and held her down to keep her from leaving, but he had no logical reason for doing it, so he let her walk out the door.
Chapter 18 Baggage
I drove to work debating what to do in my head. From one moment to the next I would talk myself into it and then out of it. I parked my car and spent the morning tidying up all the loose ends that I could. I made sure that all the grant proposals I had in process were in the mail by noon and then I found that I was suddenly hungry. I hadn't eaten since noon the day before so I went to the cafeteria and had a really big lunch with Tara. She asked me if I was okay, that I seemed out of sorts. I was.
I returned to my office and sat there watching the tic tock of my clock count down the minutes. The phone rang and I answered, "Reagan Grogan."
Greg's voice was hurried but concerned, "How are you doing?"
"I'm fine. I've got to go, but I'm okay."
"I'll see you tonight." He said. It was more of a command than a statement.
Normally I would have responded with something about seeing him, but I just said, "I love you, bye." I took out some stationary and wrote the letter, a short one which I put it in an envelope marked 'Greg" and then I slipped it in my purse. I was surprisingly calm and ready. I looked around at my life, the photos on my desk, the art on the walls and smiled. Turning out the light, I walked into my destiny.
I'm not sure how I managed to make it to the fourth floor where he had been transferred. I looked around. Everyone was too busy to notice me. The camera in the corridor, was taking everything in, but I knew that there was nothing I could do about it. They would watch the tape and know it was me.
I was past being nervous, I was resigned. I walked in and saw the machines that he was hooked up to, I saw the drips attached to his arms. Staring at the SOB, my heart grew cold and black. I hated him, I'd never hated anyone in my life, but I hated him. With every rise and fall of his chest I felt the hate flow through me. His face, still handsome, was slightly yellow. It was a beautiful cover to a cancerous soul. I looked out the window for a brief second and suddenly realized that it was snowing. But then my mind fixed on Jakes. Every fiber of me wanted this man dead and yet something in the back of my head was begging me to run, get out, not do it. Looking back at him, the rage took over and my mind went blank. I leaned over, grabbed the tube and used my thumb to turn the roller as I stopped the drips. Then I went over and turned off his respirator. I figured he wouldn't die right away, that I would have time to get off the floor.
Surprisingly, I felt calm as I walked out the door. Keeping my eyes on the door to the stairs, I walked until I reached the door. No one said anything, not a word. I opened the door and ran down the stairwell to the bottom. I pulled my keys from the purse and drove home as fast as I could, opened the drawer, found the key I needed and then ran to the garage across the alley where we kept our things. It took me precious time to find Greg's camping backpack, but when I did, I pulled it down and ran back inside. Enough time had passed so I called the nurses desk on the fourth floor and they confirmed that Robert Jakes was dead. I knew if I didn't get out of here, the police would probably be here soon and arrest me. I'd go back to prison.
I opened the backpack and threw in some clothes, a toothbrush, toothpaste, a brush, and my vitamins. I climbed the step stool and took the money we stashed in an old hollowed out book. I packed my passport, emptied my purse and took my wallet, a pen, my cell phone and a tube of chap stick. I put the letter on the table, grabbed my mother and aunt's picture off the wall, packed a few photos of Greg, one of our wedding and took some fruit off the counter. I checked out the train tracks throughout the United States online and then turned off the computer. As I ran to my car I realized that I had forgotten to erase the history on the computer, but I wasn't even sure that House would even think to look there. I started my old car and drove as fast as I could towards Texas. I felt the baby kick me hard as I left Princeton.
House was worried about Reagan, but things were going south with his patient on the fourth floor and so he'd have to check in on Reagan later. He was just coming out of the patient's room when he saw his wife, apparently in a trance, walking from a patient's room with the emotionless face of a robot. It worried him. He went to the patient's room and saw that the man was breathing but the respirator was turned off and the drips had been stopped. He looked at the chart, there were no notes ordering them stopped or stating why they had been stopped.
Did Reagan do it?
Not taking a chance, he turned them all back on and started the drips again until he could figure out what was going on. He called a nurse into the room.
"What's the story with this guy?"
"He's just being given palliative care. Lung failure, Hepatitis. The doctor told me he'll be gone within the hour. His last BP was 55/30 so he's slipping fast. We've got him on saline and morphine. The respirator isn't breathing for him, it's just assisting."
House looked at the guy. Why was she turning off his morphine? Respirator? Was this euthanasia? He looked at the name, Robert Jakes. Why did it sound so familiar? Who was this guy?
"How'd he get the Hep?"
"His girlfriend said he used to be a big time drug smuggler, but the drugs got him. That's why he didn't get a new liver, he's still hooked on the drugs."
It clicked, this was the guy who had put Reagan in prison. She wasn't trying to put him out of his misery, she was trying to kill him! No wonder she's been a basket case.
"Here's my card with my cell phone on it, let me know when he dies."
"Yes, Dr. House."
House ran as fast as his bad leg would let him to Reagan's office. Before he got there, the phone rang, "Dr. House, Mr. Jakes just died."
He thought about it for a brief second before responding, "Thanks." Her office looked as if someone was working but it also looked empty, tidy. He dialed her cell phone but she wouldn't pick up. He went down to the parking lot and got into his car. The snow was coming down in whirling flakes and sticking everywhere. It's damn cold. When he got home there was no sign of her car. He relaxed a little as he walked into the lobby of his apartment building. She must be running errands. I'll just wait for her and try to find out why she did what she did.
House opened the door to the apartment and immediately noticed the purse and the contents strewn all over the table. The blood drained from his face when he saw the empty hollow book on the floor and realized quickly that the money was gone. Closing the door, he could see an envelope on the table addressed to him. His heart sank; he was sweating and shaking, God no, please no.
Dearest, Dearest Love,
If you don't already know, you'll probably find out soon what I did. I couldn't help myself, I couldn't let him live knowing what he'd done to my family, to my mother. I'm so sorry. I know what this means and you'll understand why I had to run. I can't have our baby in prison. Please don't try to find me and don't wait for me, I won't be contacting you. I don't want you to have to lie to the police about my whereabouts.
You have given me the best part of my life. I promise to take good care of our baby. I love you and I want you to be happy. Divorce me as soon as you legally can. Forget about me and the baby and find someone new, someone who isn't as pig-headed as me. Fine someone who can give you everything that I can't.
I want you to be happy. Be happy my love. BE HAPPY.
All My Love,
Reagan XXOO
He collapsed onto the dining chair, holding his head in pain and grief. When he was able to control the waves of emotion. he called the police to report a missing person.
"...She's pregnant and may be very ill. Please, her license is New Jersey, 23KB055."
"We'll put everyone on notice, but only because she may be ill. If we find her and she doesn't want to come back, we won't stop her," the cop warned.
"If you find her, tell her that she didn't do what she thought she did. It's very important that you tell her that. Please."
"Okay, I'll let them know-"You didn't do what you thought you did." Right?"
"Yes."
House called Wilson, "Can you come over? I have a problem."
"House, I just got home and I'm really tired. Can this wait until tomorrow?"
House paused, "She's left, gone."
"Reagan?"
"Reagan. She thinks she killed someone."
Wilson was over in less than half and hour. Exiting his car, he stood with his gloved hands inside his brown overcoat. The snow was starting to build up and he stepped lightly through the powder as he made it to House's door.
House opened it before Wilson could knock and, with a somewhat sad air, entered the room.
"What's going on? What happened?"
"She was acting strange yesterday. I didn't know why. Today I saw her on the fourth floor coming out of a patient's room. I went into the patient's room and the drips were shut off and so was the ventilator."
"Oh my God. What happened?"
"Nothing happened, really. For one thing I turned everything on within a minute tops. The drips were morphine and saline; the respirator was just assisting. He had terminal liver failure, it was a matter of minutes before he died on his own."
"So the guy was dying anyway. Okay, so that means she didn't do anything to harm him."
"But she thought she had killed him-she wanted to kill him. He was the guy who framed her and put her in prison. She left me this letter."
Wilson read the letter and shook his head, "My God. Did you call the police?"
"They're looking for her, but if she tells the policeman who finds her that she doesn't want to go back, they won't make her."
"What can we do?"
He yelled at Wilson, all the anger he had at Reagan coming out, "I don't know!" He immediately knew it wasn't Wilson's fault and that Wilson didn't deserve his anger. He didn't apologize but he gave Wilson a look that told him he was sorry.
Wilson didn't flinch. He gave House a reassuring look and said, "I think you need to hire a detective right away. I don't think you ought to let too much time go by."
"You're right." House brought up the computer and did a search for Michael Hornsby. "I had a patient who was considered a pretty good investigator, I'm calling him, if he's still around."
An hour later Michael Hornsby was in House's living room. "Well, she's traveling light. How much money do you think she has?"
"$300-400 in cash from here, I don't know if she went to the ATM or not. If she has, she might have more like thousands." House said.
"We need to know if she got to the ATM. When did you go last?"
"This afternoon at lunch." He pulled out his receipt. The balance was $8,445.90 in checking.
"All right, we'll go check it in a minute but tell me what you think she took with her?"
House went around the apartment. "Some clothes, her cell phone, some fruit, the toothpaste, toothbrush. Her heavy jacket, her stocking cap, her gloves. She took her brush, the money, her wallet...wait, just a minute." He ran back to the top drawer. He came back out to the living room frowning, "She has her passport."
"Damn, that's not good." Mike pinched his lips together.
House was pretty sure Mike was going to say that. Michael told him, "Well let's find out what damage she did at the ATM."
It turned out that she had made a stop and pulled out exactly $1000.00. So House told him that she probably had about $1300 and her credit cards.
Michael shrugged and said, "Not enough cash to escape to Europe, but enough to get to Mexico."
House felt a chill go down his spine. He was getting worried. Was she good enough to cover her tracks all the way? Could he find her? He felt his world crashing around him. His leg ached liked hell.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
It was cold, really, really cold. It was snot freezing on your upper lip cold. But the only way I was going to stay under the radar of the cops was to ditch the car and go on foot. I went to Washington D.C.'s Amtrak station and parked the car. I called PPTH and left a message on House's voice mail at work, I knew he wouldn't answer, he'd be at home.
"Honey, the car is down at the D.C. Amtrak parking lot." I hung up. He and the police would think I was going to hop one of the Amtrak trains but I wasn't going to take Amtrak. I was going to hop a freight train.
What most people don't know is that freight cars are fairly high up off the ground and hard to crawl into, especially when you're five months pregnant. I found some Yardies, (guys who work the yards and are pretty tolerant of hobos who hop freights) and asked them to show me the first freight leaving in the direction of New Orleans. They pointed to one that was leaving in two hours going to San Antonio, Texas via New Orleans. That was even better. I could cross the border at Piedras Negras.
I threw my back pack in first and then used the lip of the door to pull me up to a point where I could get my knee up on the platform of the car. Then I gave a huge yank and rolled myself into the box car. It didn't look very pretty, but it did the trick. The box car smelled like urine. On long trips, the guys would use the corner closest to the back, away from the door, as a toilet. It was just a part of life on the tracks. I was used to the smell of urine from prison and jail so it didn't bother me that much.
I sat down and looked around, there was no one in the box car with me. I was hoping it would stay that way, but doubted it would. This was a good ride, going a long way and this was the only box car I could find that was both empty and not locked. Usually the Yardies opened one of the empty box cars for the hobos so that we wouldn't break a lock to get into another one. About twenty minutes before we took off an older guy jumped the car. He was a nice guy, had a beard like House except the hobo's was white. He quickly told me his name was Cory.
"You pregnant?"
"Yes."
"He beat you?"
"No, he treated me well."
"Why ya hoppin' freights?"
"I screwed up."
"Cops lookin' fer ya?"
"Yep. What about you?"
"Just a drunk."
"Fair enough."
Over the last hour the temperature had dropped into the twenties. I was cold but I had bundled up. It wasn't pleasant, that's for sure. I was afraid to sleep, I thought I might freeze or someone might steal what little I had brought. As I sat, waiting for the train to take off, the baby not only twisted and turned but now, having discovered the joy of kicking, was giving my ribs a pounding. I squirmed, trying to get the baby to stop, but that just seemed to set it off. Finally, the train lurched and we were on our way. As the train swayed on the tracks, the baby calmed down.
The box car just got colder as the wind now pierced the wood slats and floor. Cory took pity on me. "You stay warmer if you come over here, sit against the side in the middle, away from the wind and away from the piss."
"Thanks." So I joined him. He didn't smell too fresh, but I was tired and needed some sleep and he was right, it was warmer. I curled up in a ball and used my back pack to put my head on.
I had a dream. I dreamed the Feds caught me and put me in Dublin again. Sadie delivered my baby and they took it away. I didn't even get to see what sex it was. I was screaming and crying. It was horrible. I woke up. Of course the dream would never come true because the murder I committed was a state offense and I'd be sent to a New Jersey state prison, not Federal. I wouldn't be in a nice, cosey, minimum security prison either. Murderers usually do hard time.
It was starting to get light and I was hungry. I pulled out an apple and ate. I figured I'd be living on water and fruit for a few days until we got to San Antonio. I soon realized that at each station, I had time to get out and go to the bathroom and grab a snack. I bought some food because I didn't know when or where we would stop. Cory and I were joined by several people who hopped on and off as we would stop to pick up and drop off box cars. They all thought Cory and I were traveling together. One even asked Cory how he felt about being a Dad at his age. He told them it felt great. I laughed at him and he smiled.
Three days later we were in San Antonio. I gave Cory all the water and food I had so he could catch another freight. I jumped off and decided to treat myself to a cheap motel to get cleaned up. I found a pretty seedy one for 30 but it had a bed and a bathroom. I stayed from when I checked in at 4:00 pm to checkout at 11:00 the next morning. I had washed my clothes in the sink and waited as long as I could for them to dry before packing up and checking out.
I caught a bus to Eagle Pass, the border town across from Piedras Negras and, along with most of the bus of Mexican Nationals, crossed the border. There was no fuss, I just walked across. I felt some relief. Mexico didn't extradite if the defendant was faced with a capital offense unless the D.A. agreed not to pursue the death penalty. I had at least kept myself from a lethal injection, but now I had to decide where to go.
I knew the west coast of Mexico better than the east. I didn't dare go to Baja, too many people from San Diego use Baja as their playground. I didn't want to be recognized. So I decided on Puerto Vallarta, a lovely city on the Mexican Riviera. I'd been there years ago on spring break and had enjoyed it. I found the bus station and within three hours I was on my way to my new home town.
Mike and House were in the parking garage of Amtrak in Washington. They drove up and down until House found her 1996 Ford Escort. He unlocked it and searched it. There were no clues. Mike checked around. No one knew anything. Pregnant women going somewhere in this hub were a dime a dozen. They didn't realize that Reagan had stuck out because of the large backpack. Had they asked about a pregnant blonde with a large backpack they would have gotten somewhere. A couple of the train station employees had thought it was odd for a single pregnant woman to be walking around with such a large framed backpack. Not knowing about the backpack lost Mike and House valuable time.
House had filed the missing persons report but there had been no word. He remembered her always saying that she had learned a lot of things in prison, he suspected that being able to keep under the radar was one of them. He was sure that she would go to Mexico. She would think that in Mexico she would be beyond the reach of the police. She knew parts of the country and she spoke enough Spanish to get her in trouble. He told Mike that, if she wasn't going back to California, she was probably in Mexico.
Mike spent the next two months trying to catch a break. It was only when House was in his garage and noticed that his sleeping bag was out of place did it register. She might have come out here to get something. He looked around and noticed his 500 backpack with the light titanium frame, was missing.
"Mike I just found out that she took my titanium framed backpack. The type you use for long mountain treks."
"Christ, I wish we had known that earlier. A pregnant woman with a big-ass backpack would stick out like a sore thumb. Well, I'll take her photo back and see if anyone remembers her."
House hung up the phone and sat back on the sofa. He jumped back up and grabbed the whiskey, something he was doing a lot. Drinking kept him from crying. And as his Dad said, "Good little Marines don't cry." But sometimes he did. On those nights when he knew she was out there, alone, worried about going back to prison and running as far from him as possible, he cried.
It was late May and Reagan had been gone for over four months. Cuddy and Wilson had lunch one afternoon in the cafeteria to discuss House, "Is there anything you can do? Even his team is saying that he's unbearable. He's more abrasive and abusive than usual. He's coming to work smelling like a distillery and his Vicodin intake has increased. I don't know how long I can keep him. I'm about ready to suspend him."
"I'll try talking to him but he's so miserable, I don't think he cares what you do to him. The worst has already been done."
"Why did she leave him? I thought they were doing well."
"Despite the rumors, it had nothing to do with House at all. It was a misunderstanding. She thought she had done something that might send her back to prison and she couldnt' stand the thought of having her baby in prison. Turns out she hadn't done anything. All this was unnecessary."
"Why doesn't he hire an investigator to find out where's she gone."
"He has. He's spent over 30,000 so far trying to find her. They only have one lead."
"What?"
"A guy who works in the rail yards told the investigator that she hopped a freight train to San Antonio. It sounds like a good lead. He was able to describe her without the photo."
"So she's in San Antonio?"
"No, she's most likely in Mexico."
"Mexico? Pregnant and in Mexico? Can he trace her in Mexico?"
"He's trying. It's not easy."
Wilson went over that night to watch The Shield with House. House wasn't looking well. The closer it got to Reagan's due date, the worse House looked. He was hardly tolerable.
"Any word?'
"No, he brought me some photos the other day of a blonde, pregnant woman living in Sonora. Some fat woman. Not Reagan. He has a possible lead in San Felipe."
"Well," Wilson said, resigned, "Well what else can you expect?"
"I can expect my wife to come back; for her to be found...I want her back!" House was yelling, not at Wilson but at the pain that weighed him down every day. Wilson just nodded, he understood.
When I arrived in Puerto Vallarta I asked around to try and find a place to live. I stayed in the cheapest hotel I could find until I met a woman in a local café, a Mexican woman with two little girls of her own. She took pity on me, saw that whenever I ordered I was eating as cheaply as I could. I wanted to make my money last.
In Spanish she said, "You need a place to live?"
"Yes. But I don't have a lot of money."
"There is a little place over by me. An old woman lived there. She died last week. You want to go look at it? I go home at 4:00 pm. If you come here at 4:00 you can go over there with me."
I went with her and it was a one room house with a bathroom. It had a tiny kitchenette with old appliances, a little two burner stove, oven and a tiny refrigerator. It was perfect for my needs. I rented it at 100 a month from Miguel de San Allende. Now I needed a job. I wanted to find something where I would be low key, something to pay for the roof over our heads and for food. I didn't need much, I just wanted things to calm down so I could find a way to tap my inheritance. I had provided my marriage certificate to the trustees and the money was going into an account in Princeton. I knew it might be a long time before I could access it. The police would probably have it flagged. I needed to find a way to move it offshore and then get an ATM card for it. But that would take awhile, probably years and I'd probably have to go to Princeton to do it. In the meantime, I just needed a job.
I had to buy a bed, a chair, a table with dining chairs and a chest of drawers. Magdalena, the next door neighbor, found a bed frame for me and I bought a new mattress. I became friends with several of the neighbors, all incredibly nice and they took pity on me. One afternoon I had an old table and dining chairs sitting next to my door when I got home from looking for a job.
Looking for a job wasn't going so well. Most of them told me to come back after I gave birth. As far as I was concerned, giving birth couldn't come too soon. But I felt so guilty, I wore my guilt like a weight around my chest. I felt guilty because I was going to have my baby without my husband having the joy of being there. You know those commercials where they say that depression physically hurts? It does. I walked around feeling like a ton sat on my chest. Whenever I thought about Greg I ached. The only way I could avoid aching was to think about anything but my husband and frankly, that was all I thought about. I thought about how stupid I had been to give up everything for a piece of sh!t like Robert Jakes. I only hoped that Greg could forgive me, that he would move on and be happy. Knowing Greg, he'd rather call me a moron and figure some way to make me suffer than be happy. Well, he didn't have to figure a way. I was already suffering.
On May 31st, I got sick, really sick. It hit me quickly. One minute I'm washing dishes, the next I'm vomiting until I was blue and then my gut informed me it was its turn. It was tourista, Montezuma's Revenge, the Hershey Squirts, whatever childish word you can think of for gastroenteritis. I had managed to avoid it for four months but when it hit I was just shy of being thirty eight weeks pregnant. I didn't know what end to aim at the toilet and within three hours I was crawling on the floor, too weak to get up. I tried to get to the bed but I passed out, extremely dehydrated, especially for a pregnant woman. I had been there for a day when Dorothea found me.
"Reagan, what are you doing on the floor? Oh sweetie, you are hot, very hot. I need to get you in bed. You need water?"
"Dorothea, what's happening?" I asked as I came to.
"You're sick, there's vomit everywhere. I need to get you cleaned up and then get Dr. Barbarosa over here."
I went to sleep but woke up in the hospital with a saline and antibiotic drip in my left arm. The doctors were trying to find a fetal heartbeat and looking worried. I was so frightened. This was my punishment for Robert Jakes, a life for a life.
Chapter 19 Easy to Leave
Greg House had learned how to live without love in his life. He was busy with patients and making Cuddy's life pure hell. In the last few months Wilson had witnessed the resurrection of his friend from the ashes, but Wilson was suspicious. To the outside world, House seemed to be House again. It had been a year since Reagan had left Princeton and he had not heard from her since that phone call from Washington D.C. saying that the car was in the Amtrak garage.
"It's damn cold out there." Wilson said as he entered House's apartment. House was nursing a beer. He'd been waiting for an hour, watching the wrestling match on the television.
"Do you want a beer before we go?"
"No, I'm already late picking you up, let's go."
House turned off the television and grabbed his cane. He got up, put on his coat and hat and turned out some of the lights, leaving just the kitchen light on.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Wilson asked in earnest.
"Oohhh, do you think I'm going to have a mental breakdown in the middle of it and start throwing things? That maybe I'll drown the baby in my despair? Come on."
When they arrived people lowered their voices and didn't look House in the eye. Wilson saw Cuddy and he made his way through to her. House hung up his coat and went up to join Cuddy and Wilson. House was talking to Cuddy when Thirteen and Chase approached him.
"Thanks House, we really appreciate you doing this." Chase said as he patted House's arm.
House looked into his face, "You do know that this will trigger the Apocalypse? Anyone who asks me to be the Godfather of their child needs a psych exam."
"Well, Remy and I talked it over and we agreed. You've done a lot for us in your strange, House-way. And you're the closest thing I have to a relative in this world so, what the hell."
House joined Chase and Thirteen at the baptismal fountain along with Thirteen's cousin, Catherine. Catherine was going to be Charles's godmother. Catherine held the baby as House stood next to her. As the baby was being baptized by the priest, both House and Catherine had to swear that they would ensure that the child would be brought up as a Catholic. House had no problem swearing that Charlie would be a Catholic, just as long as he didn't have to swear he was a Christian or a Catholic.
The baptism itself had been controversial and the controversy had spilled over into the department. Thirteen had been dead set against baptizing Charles, but House had actually sided with Chase, in a way.
"Thirteen, you don't believe that there is a God, so how can having the baby be baptized a Catholic mean anything to you one way or another? It means something to Chase, so why do you care if your child is dunked in a bowl of water with a bunch of mumbo jumbo spoken over him? It means something to the man you love, isn't that enough?"
Coming from House, who had lost it all, his wife, his child, his happiness, Thirteen felt sheepish. What did it matter? Chase had said that he would be happy just to have the baby baptized for now. Whether the baby would continue to be raised a Catholic and how that would be defined, they would decide as he grew up. Thirteen winced, House was right again.
Once Thirteen had let go of her fear of dying, she realized that Chase had always been there for her. Chase had started dating another woman but Thirteen managed to torpedo that relationship with one simple statement, "I made a mistake when I broke up with you." Three months later they were married in a small ceremony and eight months after the wedding, Charles had arrived.
House watched Charles, all pink and crinkled. He was dressed in a long white christening gown and was not happy that the priest was pouring water on his head. House smiled, the kid was wailing. Chase took the baby and calmed him down. The priest continued and within half an hour they were at the reception.
House wondered what his child looked like and whether the baby was healthy. It tortured him to know that the baby was out there, somewhere, without him. Sometimes he was so angry at Reagan for her stupidity that he didn't think he could ever forgive her. But every so often Mike would show up at House's door, have a beer and show House photos of blonde, white women living in Mexico. A couple of them had babies, some didn't. Whenever Mike showed up House immediately felt hopeful. Whenever Mike left, House plummeted like a boulder over a cliff. He had thought seriously about shutting off the money tap, telling Mike to stop looking. He had already spent over 50,000 on the investigation and there had been no joy. House couldn't believe that anyone could disappear just like that, but she had.
"Greg, I've gotta ask. We know she's in Mexico. We know she's not on the East coast of Mexico. I can name several towns and cities that she's not in, but that just means we have dozens to go. We know she'll stick to a town because she's not geared for the countryside, especially the countryside of a foreign country. But Greg, I feel guilty that we haven't gotten any closer. She's proven to be a formidable fugitive. If she had really been on the lam, I pity the detective trying to find her. The question is, when do we stop the hemorrhaging?"
House looked at him and said nothing at first. He rubbed his forehead and looked as if he was in pain. He was. He nodded, he knew it was time to stop searching. He knew it was time to file for the divorce, he knew it was time to let go of her. But how could he let go of his child?
"Let's cut back. Instead of an actual search, send her photo to all the Mexican Investigators you know, tell them we'll pay for any leads. In the meantime, you can pull off the guys who are actively looking for her."
"Have you considered that maybe ...maybe something happened to them? Maybe something happened during labor?"
"Boy, you're just full of pleasant thoughts tonight. Let me deal with one disappointment at a time. You can bring up their untimely deaths next time you come over." House said.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ...well you know."
"Yeah, I know."
The next morning House woke up and his leg was not just aching, but throbbing too. House popped two Vicodin and got up. By the time he got to work the pain was back to just a normal ache but he felt slow, unfocused. He didn't want to be at work and he didn't want to be at home. He didn't want to be conscious. He wanted to be floating somewhere, anywhere.
He sat down at his desk and looked at the photo of Reagan and him in Vegas. He picked the photo up and threw it into his bottom desk drawer. He straightened up and saw Wilson come through the door.
"Hey, I was thinking you might like to go to the new Tarantino movie? It opens tonight."
Wilson stopped, saw that he was particularly somber and noticed right away that the photo was gone. This was big. "What happened to the wedding photo on the desk?"'
"She's gone. I have to make room for the next photo, for the next woman to leave me."
"House, you know she didn't leave you. You know she loves you desperately."
"Yeah, she loves me so much that she hasn't even tried to contact me and let me know if I have a son or daughter." House switched on his computer. "Face it Wilson, I may not be the easiest man to fall in love with, but I am the easiest to leave."