Chapter One: Bad Tidings
Anita Craven flicked a strand of blonde hair out of her eyes and straightened the shoulder strap of her purse. The bell chimed, the elevator doors opened, and she stepped out onto her level of the parking garage. The dim halogen lamps cast disturbing pools of light across the lot, making the shadows seem darker and more sinister. Anita clenched her keys tightly in her hand, thumb lightly touching the panic button.
At least she could find her car—it was the only one in sight, a light blue, late-model Camry. Fifty feet away, in a brightly-lit, empty parking garage, she told herself. Not deserted. Empty. No need to panic.
Deadlines. She hated them. She especially hated when she missed them, even if it was with good reason.
She'd pulled very few all-nighters in her career, so it was surprising to see how abandoned the place looked at four in the morning. Newspaper buildings were always bustling with activity, of course, but apparently not the parking level reserved for reporters.
She didn't like to think of herself as one of those ambitious, driven, do-whatever-it-takes-regardless-of-who-you-hurt journalists. She wasn't. But this story was a career maker. If she broke it open right, not only would she be Pulitzer material, she'd be making a lot of people's lives better.
And that's why she got into this game, anyway.
Her footsteps echoed hollowly as she crossed the empty parking garage. She imagined that somewhere nearby, other footsteps were following her, in that way that threatening footsteps stop when you stop and start up again when you do.
Anita refused to stop.
Why am I so nervous? she wondered. I've been lost in this gritty underworld too long, I guess.
Anita unlocked her car door and slipped inside, but not before carefully checking the backseat for lurking murderers. As usual, the backseat contained nothing more than a few folders of notes. She set her briefcase on the passenger seat, quickly pulling the door shut behind her and locking the doors.
Anita paused, staring at the wall in front of the car. There was a poster advertising a movie that had come out several weeks before and a sign indicating the level and section of the parking garage.
B5. Now, why did that combination click in her head?
Anita rubbed her eyes and sighed. It sounded familiar because she'd been staring at nothing but letters and numbers for hours straight. B5 was probably the page in the Chronicle her story would show up on in Friday's edition.
Conspiracy theories. If you read too much into everything around you, of course you'll start coming up with some crazy ideas.
"Right now, all I want to do is sleep," Anita said aloud.
She stabbed the key into the ignition and turned.
The pre-dawn explosion could be heard for two square blocks.
* * *
Somehow, regardless of the circumstances, Sharona couldn't help thinking about Adrian Monk. It wasn't that surprising, considering this man had been the central focus of her life for the past five years. But it did occasionally annoy her. Okay, more than occasionally. Sometimes, it drove her nuts that, even when she managed to escape him physically for a short period of time, she still felt his presence.
Case in point: here she was, sitting on an uncomfortable exam table, in a gown that wouldn't stay closed in the back, waiting for her doctor to return with her test results from what she decided must be a spur-of-the-moment vacation to Bolivia. Her clothing, inexplicably, had been left in the exam room she'd started out in, before all the tests. If she'd kept her watch on, she could have known that she'd been left waiting in the room nearly half an hour.
And she had not gone more than two minutes at a time without worrying about Monk. Like it or not, she always had Monk on the mind. Yes, rather than fret over her blood work or the discomfort she felt at being abandoned half-naked in a really cold room, Sharona wondered whether Monk was ransacking his apartment in a nervous cleaning frenzy.
Monk, of course, knew about this appointment, but Sharona couldn't bring herself to reveal the serious nature of her doctor's visit. She'd awoken several times in the past month with a sharp pain in her chest, and finally resolved to check into it. Thinking about how she'd manage to pay the bill without insurance worried her about as much as the pain itself, but she figured she had no choice.
None of this was mentioned to Monk. He agonized over the whole idea as it were; there was no need to make it worse on him. Or on herself. So she made light of the appointment. Not that it still didn't throw the man into a fit. He was probably still hyperventilating.
Sharona was so busy thinking about Adrian Monk she hardly noticed her doctor's entrance.
"I have your results," Dr. Singh said calmly.
Sharona moved as if to take the folder from his hands, but he eased back out of her reach. Sharona sat back.
"So, what is it?" Sharona asked, concerned at his stony demeanor.
"Your cholesterol is looking a bit high. Combined with your blood pressure and family history, I'm a bit concerned about your heart."
Sharona scowled. "What do you mean?"
Dr. Singh looked at her directly. "You're a high risk for cardiovascular disease," he said.
"Okay…" Sharona paused, the significance of his statement escaping her for the moment.
"The truth is, you almost certainly will have a problem with this somewhere down the line. There's a possibility it will manifest itself in the near future," Dr. Singh continued.
"What are you talking about? What kind of problem?" Sharona asked, a part of her wondering whether she was over-reacting like Monk usually did.
Dr. Singh pursed his lips, his unrelenting composure somehow making her reaction more violent. "Well, the worst-case scenario, of course, is myocardial infarction—"
"A heart attack? You've gotta be kidding me!"
Dr. Singh hardly reacted to her outburst. "It is less common for someone your age, but not unheard of. This is something that I've seen building up slowly over time. Your blood pressure has increased since I last saw you—which, incidentally, was over three years ago."
Sharona didn't bother to explain the complications with Monk and the police department and who paid her salary.
The doctor continued, "Now, you seem to be maintaining a reasonable diet, you're exercising, so I'm inclined to believe that this is due to increased stress…"
Sharona sighed. "I've been raising my son alone."
Dr. Singh nodded. "Okay. How about work?"
Sharona rolled her eyes theatrically. "Don't get me started there! My boss is . . . well, let's say he's worse than a second child."
Dr. Singh scribbled something on his pad. "Well, I can give you a prescription for your blood pressure. But you'll have to make some lifestyle changes yourself."
Sharona narrowed her eyes. "What kind of changes?"
"For one, you might consider your field of work. It's obvious this job of yours is adversely affecting your health. Perhaps if you changed your occupation, your stress level would decrease, as would the risk factor."
Sharona lurched forward. "What are you talking about? You want me to just up and leave my job like that? That's going to solve all my problems?"
Dr. Singh was unaffected by her violent display. "You admitted yourself it's a cause of great stress to you."
"My boss needs me! I can't just dump him and get on with my life! There's more to it than my personal well-being."
"Now, see, I think there's your problem—believing you're indispensable to another person. That puts an incredible amount of pressure on someone."
Sharona glared in irritation. "So is being a mother."
The doctor wasn't affected by her dirty look. "You're going to have to consider whether you want what's best for you or your boss, then."
"Why don't you ask me to stop being a parent?" Sharona retorted angrily. "You can't just run around making judgments about what's best for everyone!"
Dr. Singh raised his eyebrows. "All I'm saying is you have to eliminate stress from your daily activities. If the greatest amount of that stress comes from work, then that's the problem you need to address. It's all up to you."
Sharona squinted at her doctor. She couldn't help but notice the lapel of his physician's jacket was folded over awkwardly. She considered commenting on it, then blinked out of her reverie. What am I thinking? Thanks a lot, Adrian.
The doctor spoke again. "Listen, this is all precautionary. It's possible you'll never have a problem, but you have to keep this in mind and do what you can to prevent it." He scrawled his signature on the prescription, tore it off the pad, and handed it to Sharona. "Give me a call if you have any questions. The receptionist will take care of your payment plan."
Before Sharona could respond, Dr. Singh left the examination room. Sharona stared at the door through which he'd just exited. "But it's not that simple," she protested to herself.
* * *
Sharona didn't know who to turn to, so she stopped by Dr. Kroger's office after her appointment. He ushered her into his therapy room.
"…So he basically told me I had to abandon Adrian," Sharona finished with a sigh.
Dr. Kroger raised his eyebrows. "Is it that serious?"
"Apparently."
Dr. Kroger lifted a hand to his chin thoughtfully. "Now, I notice you used the word 'abandon.' Why do you think you phrased it quite that way?"
Sharona looked up, confused. "What?"
"Well, do you feel you'd be abandoning Adrian by leaving your job with him?"
Now Sharona was annoyed. "I don't know, what else would you call it?"
"And how do you feel about that?"
Sharona waved her hands helplessly, blinking back tears. "Isn't that kinda obvious? I'm upset!"
Dr. Kroger didn't react to her emotional display. "So what are you going to do?"
"I don't know! I have to tell him, right?"
Dr. Kroger hesitated, his mouth open to speak.
Sharona interrupted before he could say anything. "I almost think it's a dream come true, you know? I have an excuse to leave this—I don't have to go crazy dealing with money and Adrian and all these problems…"
Now Dr. Kroger waited for her to finish.
"But then I think of Adrian. He'd be heartbroken. I know him. He couldn't handle it. And then what would happen to him?"
"Well, I think he'd suffer a setback, certainly, but…"
Sharona pressed the fingers of her left hand into her temple. "He'd never get over it. I can't do that to him!"
Dr. Kroger nodded sympathetically. "I notice you've been talking all about Adrian here. What about you, what do you think about this?"
"Well, it's horrible, of course!" she blurted with a wild gesture of the hand.
Dr. Kroger raised an eyebrow.
Sharona paused. "I haven't really stopped to think about it, I guess. What if something happens to me—what'll happen to Benjy?"
"What'll happen to you?"
Sharona stared at him.
"So what do you think you should do?"
Sharona shook her head resignedly. "Maybe I should leave. I can't do anything for him if I'm dead." She took in a shaky breath and added quietly, "The thing is, I don't want to leave, you know? What do you think?"
Dr. Kroger scratched the back of his neck. "I think…you should follow your instincts. Do what you think is right."
Sharona stared at the psychiatrist and sighed. "No wonder Adrian says you're unhelpful."
He quirked a smile. "Okay, I know that's not exactly what you want to hear. Now, I've known you for…" He stopped to think a moment. "Five years? And I know Adrian. Whatever you decide, just remember this: he'll get through it. You both will."
Sharona couldn't help but mutter, "Yeah, right."
* * *
When Sharona returned home, a surprise awaited her.
"Oh my God! What's all this?" The living room of her apartment had been strewn—very neatly, for such material, so she knew Monk was behind it—with pink and purple crepe paper. At the corners of the sofa, several balloons were taped together into perfectly symmetrical bunches. A wrapped gift was centered perfectly on the coffee table.
Monk came in from the kitchen with a wide grin. Benjy bounded after him, brimming with excitement.
"It's a party," Monk announced, unnecessarily.
"We've been planning this for weeks, Mom!"
Sharona looked down at her son. "You have, huh? Wow!"
"It was Mr. Monk's idea," Benjy admitted.
Sharona looked back up at Monk in wonder. "Adrian? What is this? It's not my birthday."
Monk shook his head. "It's our anniversary."
Sharona gaped at him.
Monk blinked a few times and amended, "Five years ago today, you started working for me."
Sharona looked around the room again. "You did all this for me?"
"He even got a cake from the bakery and everything!" Benjy piped in. "Come out and see it!"
Monk shrugged a little. "I just…can't, you know, eat any myself."
Still stunned, Sharona stood rooted in place just inside the door.
"Sharona?" Monk approached her.
She brought a hand up to her collarbone and took a deep breath. "I didn't—this is totally unexpected." She couldn't prevent her voice from quavering.
Monk gave her a goofy little boy smile that reminded her a bit of Benjy. "I wanted to do something special. I don't, uh, tell you often enough how much you mean to me."
Sharona tried to swallow past the lump in her throat, but it wasn't working. I already made my decision . . .
"Sharona? Why don't you come into the kitchen?" Monk gently took hold of her arm just above the elbow and led her around the couch, showing the same attentive concern that she so often displayed toward him.
"I think she'd happy, Mr. Monk," Benjy said cheerfully, trotting ahead of them into the kitchen.
Sharona stopped short. "Adrian…there's something you should know…"
Monk turned to her with horror written on his face. "I picked the wrong colors for the balloons, didn't I?" He grimaced and pressed his fingers into the bridge of his nose. "Oh, God, I knew you'd prefer blue and white, but I second-guessed myself!"
Sharona couldn't help but react in her usual, slightly annoyed manner. "No, Adrian, it's not the damn balloons. It's something else…"
Monk stepped in front of her, probing her eyes with his. "Is something wrong? Did something happen at your doctor's appointment?" His eyes took on that desperate, worried look that almost always melted her heart. His grip on her arm tightened as he searched her face. "Sharona?"
There was a pause. Sharona looked past him into the kitchen. It looked bright and cheery, the product of a party lovingly put together by Adrian and Benjy, the two most important men in her life.
Sharona shifted her eyes back to Monk. She shook her head slightly and forced out a chuckle. "No. Everything's fine, Adrian."
Monk smiled a wide, genuine smile. "Great! I don't know what I'd do without you."
Sharona followed Monk into the dining room.