A/N – Sorry for the slight delay folks. Real life kicked me around a bit and I just haven't had time to get to this until last night, and now the baby is ill so I have even more demands on my time, but I will do my very best to keep things moving along.
Thanks for reading and reviewing. You guys are terrific!
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Becky Cantor drove in a near trance. She had not stopped except to buy gas with cash and use the bathroom since she had fled her job and life back in Virginia. She kept mulling over everything that had happened in her tired mind. Every time she started to think that she should just go to the FBI and blow her cousin in to them, she felt her face flush with fear and shame.
She had set a deadly fire that killed Shelly's parents when they were kids. She should have been sent to Juvy at the very least, but Shelly had stood up for her and told them that the fire wasn't anyone's fault. She had warned Becky that she could be sent to prison for what she had done. There was that story about the red headed kid, Eric Smith, from New York who went to prison for killing Derrick Robie. Smith was only thirteen years old when he killed that little boy and he still went to prison. Shelly had pointed out these days age didn't make a difference. Shelly had protected her from that fate and had looked out for her ever since.
She had made it all the way down to San Marcos just north-east of San Antonio when her cell phone rang startling her from her thoughts. She fumbled in her purse for the phone while she tried to keep her car on the road. Her hands were a little shaky from exhaustion and stress.
"Hello?"
"Don't say anything, just listen."
"Shell?"
"Do you still have that package I sent you and told you to keep with you all the time?"
"Yeah, it's in my purse. Shell what's going on…"
"I mean it; don't say anything, just listen to me. I need a good lawyer and there are instructions for you to follow that will take care of that. I have been arrested and the public defender that has been assigned to me has a double digit IQ."
"You've been arrested? Oh God, Shell!"
"Listen now, I need you to come out to L.A. You know where I was staying right? Just answer with 'yes' or 'no'"
The tone of Shelly's voice had turned stony and cold which made Becky pull off to the side of the road and she nodded at the phone, forgetting in her fatigue that her cousin couldn't see the gesture.
"Do you know where to go?"
Becky snapped back to herself and quickly answered, "Yes."
"Good, now go there and look in the top left hand drawer of the dresser. Everything that you will need is there."
"You want me to come to LA?"
"I have always taken care of you and you know that. I need you to do this for me. Can I count on you; yes or no?"
There was a silence as Becky let the implications of what was happening sink in. Shelly had always taken care of her but she didn't want to go to jail. She didn't want to be a part of this any more. She wasn't even completely sure how she had become a part of it in the first place. All she did was to give Shelly her file from Quantico. Once that had happened things were quite until FBI agents started dieing. It took Becky a while to realize what Shelly was doing and with every communication, with every contact she had somehow managed to get pulled in deeper and deeper.
"Can I count on you?"
"Oh! Yeah, um, of course you can count on me, Shell."
"Good, now when we hang up you open that package then come out here to LA. I'll know by the end of the day if you are with me or not."
Something about that statement struck Becky as menacing. Shelley had threatened to expose her arson in the past when she didn't want to do something for Shelley, but Becky was sure that she would never actually tell anyone. At least she didn't think Shelly would, but with Shell, you could never be too sure about anything.
She closed the phone cutting off the connection and just sat on the side of the road breathing fast and shaking. What had happened to her blissfully uneventful life? She had a dull job working in a dull place but that suited her just fine. She didn't have the same appetite for intrigue that her cousin did.
Becky had enjoyed the games that they played as children because Shelly was so smart and made up the best games full of conspiracy theories and sexy characters. Growing up with Shelly was kind of like having your own full life animated theater to romp around in, but Shelly seemed to take the games too far sometimes. It was at those times that the excitement faded and an uneasy sense of fear began.
Becky remembered a time when she was ten years old and she and Shelly had gone out into the woods behind her parents property to check the homemade traps that Shelly had built while they were playing at being frontier trappers in a new and wild country.
The trap had worked and they found an injured Red Fox struggling to free itself from the noose its head was caught in. Shelly's eyes lit up and she immediately went into what Becky called 'play mode'. She turned to her younger cousin saying,
"We have caught ourselves a savage Indian. This one was probably responsible for the scalpings at Fort Myer. It's time to show these savages that what they give they get."
Shelly pulled out a large kitchen knife that she had hidden in her backpack and approached the fox. Becky was horrified by what she saw her cousin about to do and tried to pull her arm away from the injured animal. The sudden movement and the loud voices scared the fox even further and it lashed out and bit Shelly on the arm. She howled in pain and slashed viciously at the fox cutting it in several places before turning on her cousin.
"I wasn't actually going to cut the thing but I should have. That animal was probably rabid and you let it bite me on purpose! Before I die screaming and foaming at the mouth I swear I'll tell everyone what you have done! First you murder my parents then me!"
Becky backed away crying and confused by what had happened. When the fox attacked it had frightened her but Shelly's response to being bitten frightened her even more. She ran from the woods and almost got to the house before Shelly caught up to her. She stopped her from entering and spilling the beans to her mother about what had happened in the woods by explaining that they wouldn't know for a week whether or not she had contracted the deadly disease.
Shelly convinced Becky to keep quiet about the whole incident and sent her in to the bathroom to smuggle out bandages so that Shelly could dress the wound. She tortured Becky over the next week with dire forecasts of the type of death rabies held in store and made her sit and watch Old Yeller.
The night that they saw that movie Becky cried non-stop which her parents took to be a normal reaction since everyone cried when Old Yeller was shot. Shelly whispered to her in the dark that if she started acting like Old Yeller then it would be her responsibility to get her daddy's shotgun and shoot her before she went crazy and bit everyone in the family.
Becky flatly refused to ever go back into the woods with Shelly after this incident and has felt wary of her cousin ever since. Shelly down played the whole thing after a while and kept her play to more acceptable boundaries. She did not want to risk having her Aunt and Uncle coming to the same conclusions that her parents had about her mental stability.
It took Shelly nearly three months to get Becky to relax about the fox and start playing with her again. She knew that she had gone too far with that and vowed to be very careful in the future. Becky did resume playing with Shelly but she was always somewhat reserved about joining in and by the time she was twelve they had stopped playing pretend games all together.
After a childhood filled of Shelly's games, Becky was quite content to lead a boring and uneventful life until Shelly turned up again. Suddenly Becky would find herself sucked back into the chaos that seemed to define her cousin's existence.
Becky dug into her purse and pulled out a thick envelope with the words "Keep with you at all times" scrolled across the front. She opened it up and pulled out a letter but before reading it she looked at the other contents of the envelope. There was a passport, a driver's license, a social security card and other forms of identification in there all with her picture on them but the name Shirley Poulton.
There was also two thousand dollars in cash which made Becky's breath catch in her throat. It's not like Becky had never seen that much money before. As a matter of fact she came from a fairly well off family. Her parents were not rich but they were very comfortable. They would take the girls on vacations every year, usually to Costa Rica but they also had been to Disney World three times and even went to Europe for one summer vacation.
When Becky finished college and moved out on her own she kept in touch with her parents but they insisted that the girls make their own way in the world. This suited Becky just fine. She didn't want to have to rely on her parents all the time. There were only two occasions when Becky asked her parents for financial help and they had helped her but never without a long lecture about fiscal responsibility and the importance of saving and investing.
Becky had no problem trying to put money into a savings account but investing was far beyond her scope. She simply didn't have any idea how to go about learning how to invest her savings even if she had an appreciable amount of money to invest.
As Becky read the letter the color drained from her face. She slammed her fist against the steering wheel and began cussing in a manner that would have made the stoutest of truck drivers' blush. She turned the car off and got out pacing back and forth along the side of the dusty road.
'How can she ask me to do this? How can she ask me to steal from my own parents?' Becky read the letter again and slumped against the side of the car. 'I can't do this. I can't!'
Becky crumpled up the letter in her fist and threw it as hard as she could. It landed amongst the dry and dusty brush ten feet from the road and she sat there staring at the small wad of crumpled white paper as if the scrap of parchment was the object offending her. Shelly's voice echoed like a klaxon bell in her head.
"I have always taken care of you and you know that. I need you to do this for me. Can I count on you; yes or no?"
Becky banged her head against the side of the car a few times cursing her cousin for asking her to steal her parents life savings but after a few minutes she got up and retrieved the page from the side of the road and got back in her car vowing to herself that this would finally clear the slate between them.
When Alan arrived back at the hospital it was nearly one-thirty in the afternoon because he and Agent Pentelli had taken their bags to the safe house before coming back. He wondered if the boys had already eaten lunch as they approached the door to Don's room. Alan nodded to the agent standing guard over his boys and asked the man if he would like some lunch.
"Thank you Mr. Eppes, but I have to get back to the office. I think that they are both sleeping."
Alan peeked in through the window and saw that indeed both men were fast asleep and he wondered if he should disturb them, but he had brought sandwiches and if they were asleep then neither of them would have eaten since the pastries that Megan brought in this morning.
The agents seemed to be immersed in conversation so Alan pushed the door open and entered the room. As he drew closer to the bed he became very concerned. The first thing he noticed was that Don did not look at all peaceful. He had a fine sheen of sweat on his brow that was knit into a frown while he slumbered.
Alan reached over to his son to feel his forehead and found him to be too warm for his liking. He immediately pushed the call bell for a nurse and tried to rouse his son.
"Donnie, Donnie wake up son."
Charlie woke up with a start at the sound of alarm in his father's voice. He reached over to take Don's hand and when he moved his brother's arm Don let out a moan of pain. Alan pulled the covers down from Don's chest as well as the loosely fitting hospital gown. The skin around the edges of the bandage on Don's chest looked red and was warm to the touch.
"Donnie! Son wake up now. I need you to talk to me."
Alan patted Don's face as he spoke to him. Don opened his eyes and let out a groan.
"Whatsa'matter?"
"I was about to ask you that. You look like you are in pain and you're too warm."
The nurse had just walked in and heard Alan's comment. She moved in past Charlie and indicated with her body language that he should give her some room. Charlie got up and pulled the recliner away from the bed and stood back.
"How is the pain on a scale of one to ten Mr. Eppes?"
Don tried to sit up and took in a sharp breath as his chest seemed to blossom in fire.
"I'd say it's at least an eight" he gasped.
The nurse examined the bandage covering the incision on his chest and noted the red warm skin around the edges. She then pulled the top of the bandaging down and noted some yellowish drainage.
"It looks like you are developing an infection. I have brought some pain medication for you, but I want to take your temperature first."
Alan looked up at the nurse feeling his concern grow as she checked his pulse and frowned deeply. She took an electronic thermometer out of her pocket and put the tip in Don's ear and got a reading of 99.8.
"All right you are running a low grade fever so I am going to get you some Tylenol for that. I want you to say quiet and don't try to get up."
She noticed the bag with the sandwiches that Alan had brought and turned back to Don.
"What have you had to eat today?"
"Just some coffee and a blueberry muffin. I think that my father brought some lunch for us though."
"I will get you some jello and juice if you are hungry, but I don't want you to eat anything else until the doctor has had the opportunity to examine this incision."
Don looked quite disappointed by this order and as if in response his stomach growled loudly.
"I'm sorry, but if Dr. Hammell wants to debride the wound you will need to be put to sleep and you can't do that on a full stomach."
Alan stepped forward and asked, "What does that mean exactly; debride the wound?"
"It is basically cleaning the wound. Often times in a post operative infection there will be necrotic tissue formation." At Alan's look of confusion she elaborated. "Necrotic tissue is dead tissue. That would be surgically removed so that the healthy tissue around it can begin to heal properly. Now I'm not saying that this is the course of action that will be taken, but in case it is then it would be better if there was an empty stomach to work with."
She looked at Don with an apologetic smile.
"Your temperature isn't too high at the moment and the drainage doesn't look that bad. Dr. Hammell is in surgery today until at least five o'clock so he will not be able to see you until later. I will monitor your temperature and vital signs. The Tylenol should bring your temperature down and if Dr. Hammell thinks it's all right after examining you then you should be ok to have dinner."
She gave him the pain medication that she brought with her before excusing herself to go and get the Tylenol. When she came back she brought with her some jello and apple juice. It was wholly unappetizing to the young man but then again at this point his stomach had stopped growling and he wasn't particularly hungry anymore. That didn't stop his father from practically force feeding the proffered food on his son anyway.
Alan had also brought a tape of the game last night that he had set the VCR up to record. As the afternoon progressed they sat and watched the ballgame and talked very little. Don was becoming more tired as the day wore on and began to doze fitfully by the third inning.
Once Don fell into a deeper sleep Alan told Charlie about the 'safe house' which wasn't actually a house at all, but a hotel converted to low rent apartments on the lower east side. It was not particularly nice but it was in a fairly open area with no tall buildings around it.
Agent Pentelli had explained that without taller buildings near by it would be impossible for a sniper to take a shot at a witness being protected on the upper floors. This did very little to bolster Alan's confidence in the situation and he held back that tid-bit of information from Charlie feeling that his youngest had quite enough to worry about as it was.
The nurse came back in to check Don's temperature at three o'clock. The Tylenol had not touched it at all and it had actually gone up to 100.8. She hooked up a small bag to his IV and told Charlie and Alan that it was a different anti-biotic. She had spoken with Dr. Hammell between his scheduled surgeries and given him a complete update on his patient's condition. He planned on coming down to see Don as soon as he finished his last surgical patient.
Alan and Charlie kept a close watch over Don but they both had gotten precious little sleep themselves and dosed off around four in the afternoon. They were awakened abruptly by the sound of a loud beeping alarm that was going off on one of the machines next to the bed.
Alan glanced up at the screen that showed his son's heart rate and blood pressure. His heart rate was 103 and that had set off the alarms. Don was covered in sweat and had started tossing his head back and forth moaning incoherently.
Before Alan or Charlie could call for assistance the door flew open and two nurses came into the room quickly. Alan and Charlie stepped away from the bed to give the hospital personnel room to work. Don's temperature had spiked up to 104 and he was mumbling and panting.
The nurse that had been monitoring Don throughout the day called for some sort of medication and the other woman left the room in a hurry.
"Mr. Eppes!" she said looking at Alan. "Please come over here and hold his arms down for me."
Don had begun to flail his arms around and she wanted to check his incision. Alan moved swiftly to the bedside and took a hold of Don's wrists. He could feel the heat radiating off of his son and mentally kicked himself for falling asleep when he should have been watching him. The nurse pulled the gown covering Don right off of him and they could see that the bandaging covering his chest was wet and it was giving off an odor that Alan didn't think was very good.
As she peeled the wet bandaging away from his wound the smell that Alan had noticed a moment ago assaulted his senses with a putrid odor. The incision was enflamed and oozing a thick yellow puss that had soaked the bandaging material.
"I need to get the doctor to look at this right away. When he gets here I am going to have to ask you gentlemen to leave for a bit. There is a significant infection in this wound. He may need to be taken directly to the operating room."
The second nurse returned with a syringe and handed it to the nurse working with Don.
"This is a mild sedative that should calm him down. I can't give him anything stronger that could complicate the use of general anesthesia."
Charlie stepped forward now and looked alarmed by the prospect of them putting Don under in his condition.
"With a high fever can they put him under general? Isn't that dangerous?"
"That will be Dr. Hammell's call; I am only a nurse practitioner. Stay with him, keep his hands away from the wound; I'm going to go and get Dr. Hammell right now. He should be almost done with his last case and he will need to immediately asses this situation."
The sedative had begun its work and Don had stopped fighting his father's restraining hands and he opened his eyes slowly. They were glassy with fever and pain but they focused on his father.
"Dad?"
"It's all right Donnie. You need to relax right now."
"I tried Dad, I tried to get to him, but I was too late. I didn't save him. I'm so sorry, Dad. I didn't save him."
Charlie looked at his father and saw pain flash briefly inhis eyes. This smacked of a previous conversation and he knew that Don was referring to him. He moved over to the side of the bed where the nurse practitioner was standing only a moment ago and took his brother's face in his hands turning his head so that he could see Charlie.
"I'm all right Don. You found me and I'm ok. I'm right here and I won't leave."
It took Don a moment to focus on his brother's face. He reached up toward him and felt a white hot pain in his chest.
"Don, you have to lie still. Do you understand me?"
Don closed his eyes tight and reached up to Charlie grabbing his shirt front. He opened his eyes again and Charlie bent closer.
"You have to take care of Dad, Charlie. You have to promise me that you will be there for him when I'm gone."
Don's words were slurred and Charlie was not sure whether that was because of the sedative or the delirium.
"You're not going to die, Don. You will be just fine!"
Don's eyes seemed to clear for the briefest moment and a terrible sadness shown through.
"Charlie, please you have to promise me. No numbers, Charlie. Please promise me."
Don held his brother's shirt in a death grip and wouldn't let go. Tears sprang up in Charlie's eyes and he knew that he had to say something to calm his brother down. The sadness in his brother's eyes frightened him and the thought that Don could die with this infection crept along at the fringes of his mind.
"I promise Don, I won't hide in my numbers, but you have to promise too. You have to promise to hold on, to fight this. Don you can't give up. You have to promise me that."
Don's hands went slack and he allowed his arms to drop to the bed. He was still looking into Charlie's eyes and saw a tear escape his brother's control.
"Promise… Never give up…"
The sedative took hold and Don's eyes slid closed and his breathing slowed to a more regular pace. Within fifteen minutes Dr. Hammell came charging into the room. He was still wearing scrubs and a surgical cap on his head.
He quickly examined Don and looked up at Alan and Charlie. "I was afraid of this. The antibiotics didn't stop the infection. I will take him up to the OR. I don't want to put him under general anesthesia in this condition so we will have to use a seditative and local anesthetics. I will remove any necrotic tissue and cleanse the wound. When he comes back down here he will be hooked up to a VAC bandaging system."
"What does that mean?" Alan asked very concerned.
"I will explain the entire thing when we come back; right now I want to get him up to the OR. This will probably take about an hour to ninety minutes. His fever is my biggest concern right now. The high fever developed very quickly and that is not a good sign. I want to stop this infection before he is hit with a system wide sepsis."
A smaller gurney had been wheeled into the room while the doctor was talking. Alan and Charlie stepped back out of the way and watched as Don was moved over and taken out of the room. Once he was gone it seemed eerily quiet all of the sudden. Charlie looked at his father's stricken features and remembered his brother's words.
"Dad, don't worry; Don is the strongest person I know. He will pull through this just fine."
Alan looked down at his son and felt an overwhelming pride wash over him. While Don's delirious conversation and exchanged promises with Charlie had disturbed him enormously, he was beyond happy to see that Charlie was not retreating into his safe world to avoid the pain and stress of what was happening to them. The fact that his youngest was comforting him and not the other way around sowed Alan how much Charlie had grown and changed over the last couple of years.
"You are absolutely right Charlie, Don is a very strong man; just like his brother."
