My apologies for taking so long to post this next chapter. Life got so busy that I didn't realize how much time had passed. Many thanks to all who have reviewed and encouraged. I plan to have the story completed in the next week or two, barring too much RL intervention.

WJC

         

Chapter Eight: Why Tell The Whole Truth When Half A Truth Will Do?

         

Mark rounded the corner near Community General's security offices just in time to see Cheryl replacing a pen into her notebook. The expression on her face told the story. Detective Banks was more than a little perturbed. 

          "What happened?" Mark asked, following her pointed gaze toward the exit. He continued to watch with a sinking heart as Amber climbed into the back seat of an orange taxi. She never looked back toward the hospital as the cab pulled away from the curb.

          "Why'd you let her go?" Mark was aghast. He didn't want to accept the fact that the woman who had just threatened his son was leaving of her own free will.

          "I can't hold her, Mark. Regardless of what I'd like to do, coming to the hospital to visit a patient is not a crime. Even if it isn't visiting hours. The most security could do is ask her to leave. And after the dressing down Steve got from the captain about not giving any reason for the LAPD to be accused of harassment. . . "

          Mark understood that logically, but his heart had to keep trying. He had to make her understand how serious the situation was. "But Cheryl, she threatened him. Just a few minutes ago. It took the time since security called you for me to get him stabilized."

          Immediate worry etched across her face. "What happened? Is he okay? The guards didn't mention anything about that."

          "He'll be fine." Mark sought to reassure her. "She startled him out of sleep, caught him off guard. Security wouldn't have seen or heard anything because they arrived after she issued the threats and I had them take her out right away."

          "What did she say?"

          Mark sighed. "Nothing that would hold up on an arrest warrant. She told him that this wasn't justice served. Not yet. But no one heard her say it but Steve."

          Cheryl understood the significance of the statement, and of the fact that there were no witnesses to her actually saying the words. "I'm going to head back to the station and have a chat with the chief. If he can't do anything, then someone will be on Steve's door, if I have to do it myself. I'm sure some of the other officers from the precinct would be willing to help out."

          "Thanks Cheryl. It's nice to know that Steve has such good friends."

          "My grandmother used to say, If you want a friend, you have to be a friend. We're just returning the favor to Steve. We'll look out for him."

          Cheryl was as good as her word. During the next thirty six hours of Steve's stay at Community General, there was always an officer at the door of his hospital room. And on the morning that Steve was released Officer Saddler had followed behind them in his private vehicle.

          Under normal circumstances, Mark might have shied away from allowing the officer's to spend so much of their free time in his behalf. But, where his son's safety was concerned, he was willing to accept every avenue of help available.

          Steve, on the other hand, had grumbled through much of the drive from the hospital, complaining that the guard duty was a waste of time, that he was going to owe everyone and his brother when he got back to the station. He insisted that Amber had only issued a warning, and wasn't ready to make her move just yet. That she would want to make sure that she had humiliated him first by killing her target.

          Mark wasn't sure that he agreed with that theory any longer. There was something in the woman's eyes, a hint of triumphant that worried him, warned him that things would not be quite that simple.

          As he pulled into the driveway, he waved to Officer Saddler. Jesse and Amanda would be inside waiting for them. They'd arrived a few hours earlier when Cheryl had come to check the place over. Everything appeared to be all clear.

          It wasn't until much later, after Amanda and Jesse had gone and the sun was making its descent into early evening that Mark noticed something unusual. He couldn't say that he was surprised exactly. If he was honest with himself, he would have to say that he'd expected it.

          He took a quick glance back toward Steve who had fallen asleep in an easy chair before slipping through the patio doors into the cool November air. He took his time moving down the steps and across the sand. It really wouldn't do to get angry at this point. If he wanted to accomplish his goal his senses would have to be sharp. In this life and death game of chess, the life at stake was that of his son and his opponent was a master of manipulation . . .

          "You find something?" Mark watched as Steve's shoulders tensed when he pulled a small dark utility case from a shelf in the closet. They had managed to get a search warrant for Amber's apartment based upon Mark's statement that she had been at La Ciel de Vin which was near the hotel where Doctor's Paul and Bettinger had been before their vehicle had been tampered with, and because he had seen her in possession of the type of drug that had been found in their systems. The  proposed motive was revenge for her mother's death. There was motive, means and opportunity. Now they needed to see if further evidence fit those facts.

          "Yeah." Steve turned toward him after a moment and displayed the item that he had found. Disappointment and resignation were heavy in his voice. He turned the case so that his father could properly read what was emblazoned across the front of it.

          Before Mark could respond, an indignant voice sounded from the living room. "What is going on here?" Amber demanded. She appeared moments later, shadowed by one of the uniformed officers that was on hand for the search of the outer rooms.

          At a nod from Steve, the man disappeared from the bedroom door back into the living area. Steve turned back to face Amber while Mark looked on.

          "Steve? What's going on?" Amber looked between the two of them, bewilderment etched across her face. Her gaze settled attentively on Steve, her expression pleading. "Why are you and Mark in my apartment? With the police?"

          Steve didn't waver, but Mark was convinced that he'd wanted to as he looked back at the woman. "Amber, I've got a search warrant," he told her, his tone quiet. He handed it to her for her perusal.

          "It's part of the investigation, and I have to follow through on it," he continued as she took it and looked it over quickly.

          "What are you looking for?" she asked. "What is it that you think I did?"

          Steve glanced briefly toward him before continuing. "We're looking for evidence that ties you to deaths of Doctor's Bettinger and Paul." He carefully displayed all of the items that had been found.

          "We have a parking ticket from the Regency Hotel Garage on the same afternoon that the two gentlemen in question were there--"

          "But Steve. That's just a coincidence. I bought wine at La Ciel de Vin. It's easier to park there. You know how parking can be in that area."

          Steve continued. "We also found these empty bottles which contained the same type of medication that the doctors were poisoned with."

          Amber turned her gaze on Mark. "Mark. You know what those are. They were my mothers. You know that. There were still pills in them, remember? I dumped them and threw them away after you found them in my basket. There was really no point in holding on to them."

          "You filed a scathing complaint about both of these doctors specifically over at Keller Memorial shortly after your mother was denied access into RO7-9  program." Mark spoke up, laying out more of what they'd discovered. "The investigation into your complaint was dropped a couple of weeks before you applied for a position at Community General."

          "I was upset and angry, Mark. Surely you can understand that. The complaint was my only means of fighting back. It doesn't mean that I killed someone."

          "What about these?" Steve held up the utility box that he had found in the corner. They are photo-reactive pens. When exposed to black light they show up very well."

          "And that means what?" Amber asked. "Lots of people own those. I used to be a party planner. I used them in my work. I've even got a little black light. See?" She reached beneath the bed and dragged out a leather covered object.

          "You have an explanation for everything," Mark said, unconvinced despite her convincing delivery. "There was one little mistake that you made. It was what you wrote on the windshield that you never expected anyone to see but those two doctors."

          Amber blinked, surprise showing for just a moment before her mask of innocence returned. But it was enough to give her away. "What are you talking about Mark? Steve, what's he saying?"

          "It's Justice Served, Amber. Justice Served gave you away. We toasted it, remember?"

          Mark blinked away the memories as he drew closer to the woman who sat a several dozen yards beyond his property line, her back to him. Even if Steve had gotten that restraining order, her presence here would not have been a violation. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as he came even with her and gazed out over the ocean's waves beating against the shore.

          "It's so relentless and untamed." She spoke without turning in his direction. "A wild, deadly and uncontrollable force of nature."

          "Everything, even nature works without the bounds of laws. And when those laws are overstepped, there are consequences to be faced."

          "There are no consequences for the ocean. It's free."

          "Yet it is controlled by something larger than it is. The gravitational pull of the moon affects high tide. And let's not forget El Nino, and La Nina."

          Amber blew out an exasperated breath. "Shouldn't you be taking care of your son?"

          Mark just looked back at her. The way he saw it, he was taking care of his son. He was fighting for his life. This woman would not have him.

          "What did he ever do to you?" he asked her.

          Amber tossed her head, her voice hardened with bitterness. "He broke my heart."

          "He did his job," Mark insisted. "You killed two men. He followed the evidence which led him to you. And for that, he deserves to be beaten? To have his vehicle wrecked?" 

          "Do you know what betrayal feels like?" Amber asked.

          "Yes I do," Mark replied right away, but was ignored as she continued.

          "It feels like a knife to the gut. A wound to the heart. It's like a physical ache that goes on for days and days making you feel hollow inside. That's what Steve did to me. He threw everything we had away."

          "What did you have that wasn't built on a falsehood?"

          "I never lied to him." Amber insisted.

          "You didn't tell the whole truth," Mark reminded her.

          "Why tell the whole truth," she mused half to herself. "When half a truth will do?"  

          "Will you answer a question for me?"

          "I'll answer two. But only two. Make them good."

          "Do you know who is going to die?" Mark asked.

          "That's pretty good. Not the one I was expecting you to ask first, but still good. And, I'd have to say that the answer to that question is yes. I do know who is going to die." She stood and began to gather her things from the surrounding area. "Now go ahead with the second."

          "What would it take for you to feel like there was justice served against Steve?"

          "I think I already answered that one," Amber said, having completed her task of gathering. "And now, I'll be going. It was a pleasure chatting with you Mark."

          - - -

          Mark carried an empty mug in from outside. Carrie Foster was the officer parked outside of his home today. Mark had advised her that she probably wouldn't need to remain for very long. He had a feeling that after spending two days in the hospital and two days in bed at home, Steve had enough. His suspicions were confirmed when he entered the kitchen.

          "Morning Dad." Steve was leaning against the counter, nursing a mug of coffee. Gone was the two day growth of beard, and his hair was still damp from the shower. He'd dressed himself casually in loose slacks and a button up shirt in patterned blue. He smiled and the picture of an uninjured, unworried Steve was complete.

          "Morning. How are you feeling?"

          "Rested. Very, very rested."

          Mark couldn't help but chuckle. "Translation: you're beginning to get a bit of cabin fever."

          "Diagnosis correct," Steve replied. "Things have been pretty quiet the past few days. Tracing the cell phone call to Bob's has gotten us nowhere. Trying to get the files unsealed for the drunk driver seems to be stalled in first gear. I think I'll drive out to Riverside and have a talk with the Corona precinct chief. See what I can find out."

          "Sounds like a plan. Would you like some company?"

          "Absolutely."