A/N: ***WARNIG*** This chapter contains a graphic scene, so skip the first few pages or the entire chapter if you are squeamish. The number and range of responses to the last chapter was incredible. The reviews ranged from anger and disgust to shock and surprise. For those who were angered and disgusted by the accident and believe the scene came out of nowhere, I assure you it did not. If you chose, go back to Chapter 19, Water, Water Everywhere. In that chapter, and in subsequent chapters, I began spending a lot of time describing Fitz' car. That was a hint something was going to happen to that car, although I realize you might not have seen the accident coming. For those who found the accident upsetting because of personal life experiences, I am sorry you are having challenges and wish you peace. And for those who had certain expectations for the chapter, well they were not my intentions. Skidd, glad this story is evoking all kinds of emotions for you. That's a compliment for a writer. Guest 1, Fitz should stop sharing his personal life on social media. He also told Shelby Sage, the reporter, where they were going. Don't know if you have children, but it is not uncommon for children from infancy to the toddler years to battle a host of maladies: colic, ear infections, colds, etc. And many things can cause diarrhea. This won't be Jolie's last illness. Remember, Cena had her illness as well. Guest 2, I sleep well at night. You might be projecting. BTW, accidents happen every day and children are involved in them, unfortunately, because they are riding in cars with their parents. Guest 3, Queen of angst? Hmmm. Thanks for all of the feedback. Here we go!
Chapter 30. Fantasy Denied
For the past two months Marion has been putting in a lot of long hours at the office, in part, due to the mayor's request, or better yet demand, that his staff justify the cost variances across all city departments. He wants to know why the expenses for some departments are under budget while the expenses for other departments are over budget. He wants answers and he wants them yesterday. Although the answers to his requests are obvious, no one will dare say so, at least not out loud. Ever since the Marla Briggs' scandal was made public, it has been next to impossible to deal with the irascible Mayor Wilson. The press is hounding him daily, asking tough questions about what he knew about the scandal and when he knew it, making him more ornery than ever. And when he is miserable, he makes sure everyone around him is miserable as well.
Over the past few months, Wilson's staff meetings have been nothing less than a firing squad. In the middle of a meeting he would randomly select the department head he was going to train his sights on, who he was going to berate and humiliate. And at the last staff meeting, following the election, he decided it was Marion's turn to be demeaned, and he did so in the most brutal and vicious way to date. After the Director of the Department of Streets finished his update, the mayor turned to her, chomping on that offensive cigar, and demanded she show him the data pertaining to the rise in sexually transmitted diseases across the city and her plans for fixing the problem. Stunned by his request, because no one ever has their numbers at these meetings and she cannot stop people from having unprotected sex, she stumbled out an incoherent explanation, which only served to fuel his anger. However, today he was not taking any excuses from her and made it clear that if she did not get her act together she will soon find herself in the unemployment line.
As everyone filed out of the mayor's office, the Director of the Department of Records, whispered in Marion's ear the reason for the man's visceral attack on her. So she started working 15-hour days to make sure she has the information the mayor wants, in advance of the next staff meeting. While Marion does not mind working long hours, especially since she does not have anyone waiting for her at home, she hates being bullied. She also hates that the mayor is taking out his hate for Fitzgerald Grant on her. While it is not a secret, but somehow Wilson found out she has been working with Olivia Grant on the Wraparound Program. And any friend of the Grants is an enemy of Wilson.
After working such long hours and eating fast food almost every night for the past two months, the stress has begun to take its toll on Marion's body. Feeling sluggish and unfocused, she decided on her drive home from work one night to start taking better care of her body. She decided to get a personal trainer, a decision that was surprising to her because she hates all forms of exercise. But she hired Greg as her personal trainer and began working out with him three days a week. She even started to eat more healthy foods, and not just sticks and twigs, thanks to the nutritionist to whom Greg introduced her. Her commitment to nurture her body is paying off because she is feeling good and looking even better. She is projecting the image she wants the world to see.
With the report about the cost variances for Health Department on Mayor Wilson's desk, Marion left work early yesterday, dashing off to her favorite day spa to put her body in the shop. After all, the package is not complete without a professional manicure and reflexology pedicure. She wanted to look her best when she arrives at the Grants' home, so halfway through her pedicure and her second complimentary glass of wine, Marion decided to add a few more services to her appointment card: eyebrow threading, a facial, and hair coloring. Of course the staff was more than willing to oblige the last-minute, add-on services for one of their most loyal clients.
Friday
As Marion winds the sports car down the face of the mountain, she dismisses the odious mayor from her mind and sings along with the music flowing through the Bose speakers. She is going to forget about work and enjoy herself this weekend. Although it will not be a haute couture kind of gathering, Marion still wants to look her best so she packed some her finest casual clothes and swimwear for the getaway. No sweat or yoga pants for her. And, she would never be caught dead wearing one of those oversized men's tee shirts or sweatshirts. She is a lady and she likes to look like a lady. That is why today she is wearing her Donna Karan white, ankle-length skinny jeans, a Michael Kors yellow silk blouse, and Valentino cow hair, peek toe, chunky heel sandals that display her bright red toe nails.
She turns up the volume on the radio mind and smiles as the warm breeze blows the beautiful extra-large Hermes printed scarf that is wrapped around her neck. She thinks about the day she decided to bite the bullet and buy the pricey scarf, chuckling as she recalls her internal debate about the practicality of spending a small fortune on a whisp of material. But after 15 minutes of dueling with her alter ego, she dismissed the sounds in her head and plopped down her credit card onto the counter to purchase the vintage scarf. She convinced herself the item was well worth the money; after all, she will have the classic accessory until she took her last breath on this earth.
Marion sighs as she glances down at her phone to check how much farther she has to drive before arriving at her destination. According to the GPS app she should be arriving at the Grants' vacation home in about 45 minutes. She wishes Olivia had told her about the tunnels when she gave her the directions because she definitely would have taken a different route. She is claustrophobic and driving through that last narrow tunnel was a nail-biting experience. She grips the steering wheel and inhales deeply, preparing for the next tunnel, which is about a mile long. She hopes it is not as narrow as the last one.
She frowns when the GPS alerts her to an accident up ahead, praying she will not have to take a detour. As much as she hates having to drive through another tunnel, she hates even more the possibility of having to detour around the massive mountain. She is tired of driving and just wants to get to the house, relax, and hopefully have a glass of wine or two. When she sees the flashing police lights up ahead, she groans, presses her foot onto the brake pedal, and brings the car to a rolling stop. As the young patrolman approaches the car, she presses the button to roll down the window fully.
"Good afternoon, ma'am", tipping the brim of his hat and smiling at the attractive woman.
"Hello, officer. Is something wrong?" Stretching her neck trying to get a glimpse of what is going on up ahead.
"I'm afraid we've had an accident so I'm going to have to ask you to turn around and follow the detour signs", nodding in the direction of the orange sign she did not see. "We won't be letting anyone into the tunnel for quite some time."
"I see. Is anyone hurt? I'm a physician - maybe I can be of some assistance?"
"Surely, ma'am", becoming animated as he pulls on the door handle. "I'm waiting for the ambulances to arrive, but maybe you can check out those people in that car before the ambulances get here. It looks like we have a few fatalities."
"Of course. Of course", she says, sliding from behind the steering wheel.
"Over here, ma'am - I mean doctor", the patrolman beckons. "The people in that crumpled BMW seem to be a family. The driver, I assume is the father, hasn't moved since I got here. I think he's a goner. I'm waiting for the tow truck to come and pull that SUV off of him."
"This is a really bad accident", Marion says, glancing around at all of the personal items strewn across the road. The patrolman shakes his head as he watches the attractive doctor strut down the road in the stylish sandals. He is not used to seeing women up here wear those kind of shoes.
"There's a little girl in the backseat, on the driver's side, who hasn't moved since I got here. The women in front, on the passenger side, I assume is the mother. She hasn't moved either. You might want to take a look at the driver first, since you can get to him, although I think he is a goner. It looks like the only survivor is the baby in the backseat - I think a girl - who has been screaming her head off since I got here."
Marion nods, listening intently as the patrolman fills her in on the condition of the people in the car.
"What about the driver of the SUV?" Wondering how that truck ended up on top of the car.
"Oh, he's dead, ma'am. It looks like he was ejected from the truck on impact."
As they approach the crumpled vehicle, Marion shakes her head when she hears the baby crying. She wonders how they are going to get to the people on the passenger side since the car is pressed against the mountain. Marion has worked in hospital emergency rooms in some of the toughest cities around the country and, as an emergency room doctor, she has seen almost every conceivable injury one can imagine, like gunshot wounds, stabbings, amputations, and lacerations. And as an emergency room doctor she learned to handle tragedies with cool detachment, understanding the devastation she sees is all part of the job. But all her years of training and experience did not prepare her for what she was about to encounter on the isolated road in the mountains of Washington state.
When she and the patrolman reach what is left of the car, she gasps, stumbling backward into the patrolman. Her knees come close to buckling when she sees Fitzgerald Grant slumped back in the driver's seat, bleeding from his head and mouth. She glances out the shattered windshield at the huge tires pressed against his chest then back at his unresponsive face. With tears rolling down her face, she glances over at Olivia, who is unconscious with her head tilted toward her husband. Marion quickly looks in the back seat at the two beautiful children who Olivia raves about all of the time, and sees Cena, who is still strapped in her booster seat with her head slumped to the side. She looks as if she has fallen asleep while playing with her tablet. And baby Jolie, who is still strapped in her car seat, is screaming nonstop, as if she is in excruciating pain.
"Oh my god", bringing a hand to her lips.
"Ma'am, is everything all right?" The patrolman asks, looking at the woman's distressed face and wondering if the lady doctor fears the sight of blood.
"I know these people. I'm meeting them at their home today", she says in panic.
Quickly recovering from the shock, her medical training kicks in and she goes to work on Fitz. Pressing her finger against the side of his neck she prays she can feel a pulse, but what she feels are distended neck veins. He is in respiratory distress and there are no sounds of breath.
"Ink pen", she yells, pushing past the deployed airbag to rip open Fitz' shirt, but the young man gives her a dumbfounded look.
"Give me your goddamn ink pen", she yells.
The confused patrolman fumbles with the button on his shirt pocket, trying to retrieve the ballpoint pen. Finally pulling the pen from the pocket, Marion snatches it from his hand and jams it hard into Fitz' right lateral pneumothorax and blood splatters onto her yellow silk blouse. She pulls the pen from the hole in his side, quickly bites off the top, and removes the ink line. Bug-eyed, the patrolman's mouth falls open when she reinserts the hollowed out pen into the hole in Fitz' side, relieving the excessive air pressure in his chest.
"Where is the damn ambulance?" Looking at Fitz' face regaining its color.
"You did a good job, ma'am - doctor. You saved that man's life."
She shakes her head when she looks over at Olivia and is frustrated because she cannot get to her with the door pressed against the side of the mountain. So she quickly turns her attention to Cena, opening the back door and leaning into the car to check if the little girl has a pulse. The patrolman looks up when he hears sirens blasting, sighing in relief when he sees the black Chevy Tahoe pull onto the scene.
"I gotta go, ma'am. My chief is here", he says, running toward the black SUV.
XXX
Police Chief Andrew Schuller is a big burly man who frightens most people with whom he comes in contact, especially his young patrolmen who are fresh out of the academy. But anyone who knows him, who is really close to him, like his wife and daughter, knows he is nothing more than a big teddy bear. And they know how scenes like this deeply affect him, even after being in law enforcement for 17 years. So Chief Schuller sits in his truck for a while, gathering his thoughts as he looks over at the wrecked vehicles. When Schuller sees Patrolman Jefferson running toward the truck, he takes a deep breath, reaches across the console, and slides his hat from the passenger seat. He rolls out the truck wondering how many casualties they have this time. For years he has been petitioning the county commisioners to close these old tunnels, but they are a tourist attraction, encouraging people and their money to come upstate and drive through them.
Schuller shakes his head as he watches the rookie patrolman run toward him, holding onto his hat to prevent it from falling from his head. The kid would not last a week on the mean streets of Philly Schuller thinks before barking out a litany of questions and orders.
"How many casualties do we have this time, Jefferson?" Chief Schuller asks when the out-of-breath patrolman reaches him.
"I thought we had a few, but the doctor saved one", he says excitedly and quickly.
"Slow down, Jefferson. Doctor - what doctor?" Schuller asks, glancing around the accident site.
"The lady doctor over there", pointing to Marion who is leaning inside the back seat of the car. "She saved that man's life with an ink pen, chief. I've never seen anything like that in my life."
"You mean you left her over there all alone?" The chief asks in disbelief.
"Well, I saw you coming, sir", confused by his commanding officer's response.
With eyes darting quickly around the horrific scene, Chief Schuller pushes past the patrolman and stomps over to the car. Jefferson follows closely behind him.
"How many more in the car?" Schuller growls to the patrolman without bothering to turn around.
"Three, sir."
"Are they alive?"
"I don't know, sir. One is, but two others haven't moved since I got here."
"And see if you can turn off those damn horns. They're giving me a goddamn headache."
"Yes, sir."
"Is that a dead body over there?" Schuller asks, frowning as he points his finger in the direction of the figure laying across the road.
"Yes, sir. It looks like the guy over there was ejected from the SUV."
"Well cover him up, Jefferson. Don't leave him laying out in the open for the vultures to feast on him."
"Yes, sir", Jefferson responds, running to his patrol car to get the black tarp stored in the trunk.
"And where are those damn ambulances?"
"They're en route, sir."
"And Jefferson, put some yellow tape across the entrance to that tunnel. No one in - no one out. Tell the people at the other end they have to take the detour. We're gonna be here a while."
"Yes, sir."
XXX
"How does it look in there, doc? Shit, there's a baby in there?" Schuller exclaims when he hears Jolie screaming.
"Cena has a weak pulse and I can't get to Olivia. Her door is jammed against the mountain", Marion says quickly
"You mean you know these people?"
"We are all meeting up here - at their home - to celebrate Cena's birthday."
"Damn", Schuller says, shaking his head. "My patrolman says you saved this man's life", looking at blood splatters on the women's yellow blouse and white pants.
"Where are the ambulances? Fitz has a collapsed lung. He's in shock and isn't going last much longer out here.
"They'll be here any –"
The sounds of the sirens cut off the chief's words and he and Marion turn and look in the direction of ambulances. They step aside as the tow truck pulls alongside the car.
"Get that damn truck off that man's chest - right away - so they can get him to the hospital. Stevie, you're gonna have to pull the car away from the mountain so the EMTs can check on the lady and get that poor baby out there", Schuller directs.
Stevie hooks the SUV to the tow truck, jumps back into the truck, and slowly pulls the SUV off the hood of the car. He has never seen anything like this before and he has seen a lot of accidents.
"Now get that man out of there and get him to the damn hospital", Schuller yells at the paramedics.
The paramedics cut away Fitz' seatbelt and airbags and carefully pulls his six-foot-two-inch frame from the driver's seat. They gently place him onto the stretcher, securing him in place with the straps.
"Get him into the ambulance and get the oxygen on him and an I-V. We gotta get him to him to the hospital right away", Marion yells as the paramedics stare at the ink pen protruding from Fitz' side.
"Did you do that?" The male paramedic asks, and Marion nods, hugging her body as the tears stream down her face.
"Get him over to the ambulance and get his daughter - get Cena", Marion directs the second paramedic.
The young female paramedic nods, quickly cutting away Cena's seatbelt and carefully lifting her limp body from the booster seat. As she is placed onto the stretcher, the rhinestone-encrusted tiara falls from her head and onto the ground.
"Would you like to ride with them?" The paramedic looks at Marion, who shakes her head no. She needs to stay with Jolie, Olivia would want that.
Stevie jumps from the truck, sloshing through the puddles of red and green fluids leaking from the vehicles, and slides the lift under the chassis of the mangled car. He jumps back into the truck and shifts it into reverse, backing up slowly and pulling the car away from the side of the mountain. The metal wheels on which the flattened high-performance tires are mounted, scrape against the road, digging deep into the earth, and all movement halts. Marion and Schuller look over at the driver in panic, and he waves his hand, indicating he has everything under control. Stevie pushes the hydraulic lift button, raising the car slightly from the ground. Once again, he shifts the tow truck into reverse and slowly backs up, pulling the car sideways, away from the mountain. A paramedic runs over to the passenger side of the car to check on Olivia.
"We gotta a pulse here", the paramedic calls out and the other rushes over with the stretcher carrying the medical bag.
Marion runs to the back of the car to check on Jolie, whose cries continue to pierce the otherwise still mountainside. Pushing past the deployed airbag, she quickly realizes a fractured wrist is the cause of the baby's screams, so she unbuckles the car seat and lifts the Jolie from the seat. Her yellow, white, and green daisies romper is completely soiled and the one yellow braided texture moccasin that remains on her foot falls to the ground. As Olivia is placed onto the stretcher, Marion rushes Jolie over to the waiting ambulance.
"I need to put a splint on her wrist", Marion yells, and the paramedic nods, rushing to gather the items needed to set Jolie's fractured wrist. Within minutes a splint is on the baby's left wrist, preventing further movement and damage.
"She has to get out of these soiled clothes", Marion says, looking at the paramedic. "Get me some wipes and towels."
Marion removes Jolie's romper and tosses it onto the ground as the paramedic digs into the drawers in the ambulance in search of wipes.
"We don't have anything to put on her", the paramedic says as she hands Marion a handful of wipes.
After cleaning the screaming baby, Marion snatches the scarf from around her neck and wraps it tightly around Jolie as the paramedic wheels Olivia over to the ambulance.
"I'll ride in the ambulance with Olivia and the baby", Marion says, holding Jolie close and patting her back, trying to console the crying baby.
XXX
Once the ambulances have left the scene, Chief Schuller begins the arduous task of trying to figure out what the hell happened, what caused the deadly accident this time.
"Jefferson", he calls out to the patrolman as he walks over to examine the car.
"What the hell?" Schuller exclaims when he hears something crunch underneath his right, size 14 boot. He bends down and picks up what appears to be a little girl's crown. He shakes his head as he pulls a clear, plastic evidence bag from his back pants pocket and slides the mangled crown into the bag.
Having been sensitive to loud noises most of his life, Schuller whips his massive body around when he hears music blasting from an approaching vehicle. He stuffs the plastic bag into his jacket pocket and frowns as walks toward the Jeep. When he reaches the driver's door, he crinkles his nose at the familiar odor.
"What's going on officer?" The young man shouts over the blasting music. Schuller's frown deepens because the young man cannot discern the difference between a patrolman and a chief.
"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to turn back around, there's been an accident. The tunnel is going to be closed for a while."
"Steph, isn't that the Beemer we saw a ways back - the one where the people were blasting some really good music?" The young man asks his disinterested girlfriend who has yet to look up from her phone screen.
"You saw that car earlier?" Schuller asks with a newfound interest in the young man.
"Yeh, I'm pretty sure that's it. A black 750 convertible - sweet I was thinkng when I saw it. They had the top down and I think there were a couple of kids in the back. Isn't that the car, Steph?"
"Can you turn off that music so I can ask you both a few questions?"
The young man presses the icon on his phone to turn off the music, which quickly gets Steph's attention.
"What the hell, Rodney?" Looking up from her phone in annoyance.
"I'm going to need you both to step out of your vehicle so I can ask you a few questions."
Rodney quickly jumps from the truck and a reluctant Steph slowly climbs from the passenger side.
"Now you say you saw that car a little ways back?" Schuller resumes his questioning.
"Oh my god", Steph squeals when she sees the mangled BMW. "That's - that's the car we saw earlier", pointing toward the car with one hand and covering her mouth with the other.
"What did you see?" Schuller asks.
"They were just singing and acting silly. I thought they were pretty cool for an old couple", Steph says, stll looking over at the accident site.
"Did you see them drinking anything? Did they have any open cans or bottles in sight?"
"No - nothing. We saw nothing like that", Rodney says, unable to look away from the mangled car.
"Okay, thanks for your cooperation. I'll just take a look at your drivers' licenses and will contact you if necessary", extending his hand waiting for the two to produce their identification.
"Why do you need our license? We didn't do anything. We didn't see the accident?" Steph protests.
Trying hard not to lose his temper, Schuller groans to himself and counts to three, the way his therapist taught him when he is ready to explode. He does not have time for this shit. He does not have time for a couple of kids who are high on weed and who think they know their rights. He has a dead body sprawled across the road, a severely injured family who is on their way to the hospital, and a closed tunnel that people want to drive through. So his patience is real short right about now.
"Maybe I should take a look inside your truck and see what you have in there", he threatens, taking a step toward the truck.
"Give him your damn license, Steph", Rodney shouts at his stubborn girlfriend, as he reaches into the back pocket of his cargo shorts for his wallet. Steph rolls her eyes, opens her crossbody purse, and slides out her driver's license. Schuller photographs their licenses then hands them back to the young travelers.
"You can take route 363 to get to the other side of the tunnel", turning and walking back toward the crumpled car.
XXX
Brushing aside the debris from the airbag and shattered glass, Schuller stretches his large body inside the car to examine it for evidence, for signs of drugs and alcohol. Not seeing any open cans or bottles in the cup holders, he picks up a cell phone from the floor on the passenger side. He opens the glove box and retrieves the registration card. The car is registered to Fitzgerald and Olivia Grant of Church Falls. He then searches the back seat of the car and picks up a tiny yellow moccasin from the floor. Reaching is long arm over the car seat, he picks up a broken pair of little girl's aviator sunglasses, and he smiles because his Jennifer has a pair just like them. Before backing out of the car, he slides the tablet from the seat and tucks it under his arm.
"Jefferson."
"Yes, sir", Jefferson replies, jogging over to the car and stepping onto the hooded sweat jacket. "Looks like somebody was in the Navy", Jefferson says, pushing aside the soaked jacket with his foot.
"Bag this stuff and have Stevie tow what's left of this car to the garage."
"Yes, sir, chief. How did the family look when the ambulances took them away?" The young patrolman asks.
"Not good. Not good at all. Everybody seems to be unconscious except the baby. The doc says she has a broken wrist, that's why she was screaming her head off. The dad and the other little girl took the brunt of the accident."
"It's a shame - they look like good people. Goddamn drunk drivers", Jefferson says, shaking his head in disgust.
"How do you know the driver of the SUV was drunk?" Schuller asks, as he walks over to the tarp-covered body.
"The dead guy's truck reeks of alcohol, sir."
"Well he's done. He won't be putting another family in danger", Schuller says as he pulls back the tarp to look at the battered body.
"Good riddance", Jefferson says, spitting out his chewing tobacco onto the shattered glass near the dead man's body.
"Call the medical examiner and have them come pick up this body."
"Yes sir."
"Then get pictures of everything. We gotta get a crew out here to clean up this damn mess and get this tunnel back open."
"What about the lady doctor's car?"
"Stevie", Schuller calls over to the tow truck driver who is leaning against his truck and looking down at his phone. Schuller shakes his head wondering why the hell everybody is always looking at their damn phones.
"Stevie", he yells this time.
"Yes, chief", the young driver finally responds as he slides his phone into his pocket.
"Tow that little red sports car over there back to the station when you tow this thing", looking in the direction of Marion's car.
"Sure thing, chief."
XXX
Chief Schuller walks over to the entrance of the tunnel thinking about the numerous times he has petitioned the county commissioners to install video cameras at the entrance to the old tunnels since they will not close them. But the local residents do not want video cameras and traffic lights installed because they want to retain the integrity of the tunnels. They do not want to defile history with technology. The residents believe the outdated signaling system of blowing horns to alert drivers when a car wants to enter the tunnel is sufficient. But yet here he is again, investigating another fatal accident. If cameras were installed at the entrances, it would be much easier to investigate these accidents and figure what actually happened here today.
Schuller pushes up the yellow tape and ducks under to enter the dark passageway where he sees headlights at the other end of the tunnel and a line of cars waiting to enter. He wonders if Jefferson has taped off the entrance and put up the detour sign. He pulls the flashlight from his hip holster and waves it from side to side, shining the light against the granite walls and onto the ground. Like an old frontiersman, he follows the two sets of tire tracks halfway through the tunnel. Whatever happened seems to have started at this point, scratching his chin as he looks down at the ground. Schuller walks out of the tunnel backwards, following the two sets of tire tracks out to the road. He shakes his head as he studies the tire tracks, something just does not seem right to the veteran law enforcement officer.
Schuller walks over to where the sedan seemed to have come to an abrupt stop, then suddenly took off again, colliding into the side of the mountain. He wonders what would have caused a man who is on vacation with his family to suddenly crash into the side of a mountain. He also wonders why the driver of the SUV was traveling at such a high rate of speed in the tunnel, causing such a violent crash that landed him on top of the car. He shakes his head - something just does not seem right about this accident. It does not appear the driver of the SUV tried to brake to prevent the crash. Perhaps the truck's braking system malfunctioned, Schuller ponders as he stares at the SUV. The mechanics at the police garage will have to figure that out.
"What's the matter, chief?" the young patrolman asks, carrying something in his hand as he approaches Schuller.
"Something's just isn't right here, Jefferson", glancing around the accident site.
"What do you mean, chief?"
"What would cause a man to suddenly crash his car into the side of a mountain – with his family in it? And how in the hell did that truck end up on top of that car?"
The two men glance around the site for a moment trying to figure out the mystery.
"Maybe he swerved into the mountain to prevent from crashing through that the guardrail over there", Jefferson says, pointing across the road. "If he'd crashed through that guardrail, they would've landed at the bottom of that 30-foot embankment, and they all would've been a goner."
Schuller nods, rubbing the sides of his jaw with his calloused fingers thinking Jefferson might be on to something.
"You know, Jefferson, there might be hope for you after all", reaching into his inside jacket pocket for a cigar.
Jefferson smiles brightly at one of the chief's rare compliments.
"Now get in there and put that tape at the other end of the tunnel. And tell those people on the other side this road is gonna be closed for a while."
"Yes sir", Jefferson says proudly as he runs toward the tunnel.
XXX
The chief walks over to the guardrail, shaking his head as he tries to avoid stepping on all of the personal items thrown from the suitcases and now strewn across the road. Kicking broken glass with his boot and sidestepping the contents of broken bottles of toiletries and bars of soap, he bends down and picks up a flattened red item, and wonders what the piece of plastic used to be.
"Look what I found, chief", Jefferson says, running over to Schuller and holding up what appears to be a leather-bound book. "It looks like some sort of diary or something."
"Damn, this things reeks of booze", the chief says, contorting his face and holding the book by the corner. "Bag it and put it with the other evidence."
Schuller bends down and picks up a broken bottle resting in the pool of brown liquid streaming across the road. Chomping on his cigar, he holds up the bottle by the neck in an attempt to read the soaked label attached to the glass.
"Damn", he says, half to himself, recalling the days when he enjoyed a good glass of scotch. The days when he could drink any man under the table. But those days are all behind him now, he has not had a drink in five years. Susan told him it was either the bottle or her.
"What you got there, chief?"
"Balvinie - scotch – 30 years old", Schuller says, looking at the bottle reminiscently.
"Is it any good?"
"At a $1000.00 a bottle it's damn good, Jefferson. Smooth as silk. Smooth as a woman's …"
Something laying across the road catches the chief's eye and he walks over to investigate, with Jefferson following closely behind him. Schuller squats, sitting on his haunches, and picks up the red lace material falling out of the baby's diaper bag.
"What's that, chief?"
Schuller fingers the red, lace bodysuit then looks back at the broken bottle of scotch he is still holding in his hand.
"A man's fantasy denied", tossing the broken bottle over the guardrail and down the embankment. "Bag this with the rest of the evidence", handing the patrolman the bodysuit before walking back to his truck. "I'm going back to the station. I gotta figure out what the hell happened here."
XXX
With hands stuffed deep into his pants pockets, Geoffrey Tynes stands in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows in his office at Grant Enterprises, allowing the sun streaming through the windows to warm his face. His office is a slightly smaller version of the one the company's owner occasionally occupies, but he enjoys the view from his office much better because he can watch the joggers make their way around the trail. It has been unseasonably warm in Washington these last few days so more people are out on the trails getting in their run before winter blankets the park with snow.
Geoffrey smiles ruefully when he thinks about the day Fitzgerald Grant pulled the last trick from his bag trying to convince him to leave a successful job in New York City and move to a small town in Washington, of all places, to join Grant Enterprises. While Geoffrey admired and respected the famous negotiator, he had no desire to leave the big city and move to a small town. He had enough of small town living and small town beliefs and values. But Fitzgerald Grant was persistent, and he spent three days in New York City trying to convince Geoffrey of the benefits of joining his firm. The starting salary was quite impressive, he would earn more than he was currently making, which was pretty difficult to top. Of course the benefits were of the highest standard, so that was not a factor for him. However, Geoffrey was struggling with the idea of returning to the kind of small town in which he was raised, the kind of place from which he escaped after graduating high school and going to Yale.
Geoffrey thinks about how Fitzgerald Grant explained he could have located his offices anywhere in the world, but he chose to remain in Church Falls, Washington. Church Falls is where his family lives, it is where he was raised as a child, and it is where he wants to raise his children. He explained to Geoffrey how important family is to him and how he wanted to establish a work team that would be an extension of his family. He also argued that the business deals would allow Geoffrey to travel around the world, so he would not be limited to having a Church Falls-only experience. While Geoffrey appreciated Grant's Pollyanna views of Church Falls, he still was not sold on the idea of leaving New York City. But the sly negotiator had not given up on trying to convince Geoffrey when he showed up at Geoffrey's apartment lobby at 5:20 one morning to join him on his daily five mile run.
Flashback
"I thought you hate running", looking at the man who appears eager to embark on this new adventure.
"I do, but I I'll run with you every damn day if that's what it'll take to convince you relocate to Washington. We have wonderful jogging trails in the great state of Washington, you know? And, if you agree to join my company, I will be your jogging partner - a few days a week."
"You're kidding, aren't you?" Looking at the man decked out in running gear he obviously bought last night from the mall.
"Do I look like I'm kidding?" He says with a smile, modeling his new athletic gear.
"Well let's go - let's do it", Geoffrey says, jogging toward the front door.
Geoffrey decided to really test Grant's conviction, so he took him on the most circuitous and rugged route in the city, and he was impressed by the man's ability to keep pace with him. An hour and fifteen minutes later they arrived back at the apartment building, both red-faced and winded.
"Water?" Geoffrey asks, walking over to the table holding containers of lemon water and plain water, and Fitz nods, unable to speak.
"I run at 5:30 every morning - rain or shine", handing Fitz the cup of water. Fitz nods as he brings the cup to his lips, quickly guzzling the cool liquid.
"You're insane you know? I took you on one of the toughest running trails in the city and you hung in there - now I am impressed", reaching for the cup to get Fitzgerald Grant a much-needed refill. "I can be in Church Falls in a month." Walking back to Fitz and handing him the cup. "Deal?"
"Deal. You won't regret it, Geoffrey."
End Flashback
Geoffrey closes his eyes as he waits for his small staff to join him in his office. He does not know how he is going to tell Sandra and Marcus that their boss and his family were in a horrific accident while driving to their vacation home. How does he tell his employees that Fitzgerald Grant is hanging on to life by a thread?
"Geoffrey", Sandra says hurriedly as she breezes into the office, interrupting his reverie. "You could not have picked a worse time to call an impromptu meeting. I have to get over to the courthouse. It's challenging enough trying -"
"What's going on, Geoffrey?" Marcus asks, walking up to the office. "I just got your text …."
Marcus stops abruptly in the doorway when he sees Sandra standing in the room holding her ever-present tablet.
"Oh - I didn't realize this was a staff meeting", smoothing his tie before buttoning his jacket.
"Geoffrey, please. Can you tell us what this is all about so I can compile the documents for your trip tomorrow?"
Red-faced and eyes brimming with tears, Geoffrey turns away from the window to face his staff and Sandra's heart starts to pound wildly. She is panicking because she has never seen the usually calm and reserved man so emotionally distraught.
"My god, Geoffrey", bringing a hand to her chest and taking a few steps toward the desk. "What's going on – what's the matter?"
Marcus also begins to panic as he looks back and forth between Sandra and the man standing behind the desk with his hands stuffed into his pants pockets. While always a friendly and affable man, no one would ever accuse Geoffrey Tynes of wearing his heart on his sleeve, of being an emotional man. But something obviously has happened to shake that well-crafted image.
"Something has happened – there's been an accident", and both Sandra and Marcus hold their breath, watching as Geoffrey slides a hand from his pants pocket and rakes his fingers through the usually well-coiffed, strawberry-blonde hair.
"Earlier this morning – Fitz – Mr. Grant and his family were in an automobile accident on the way to start their vacation."
"Oh my god", Sandra exclaims.
"I don't have all of the details, but apparently they were hit by a drunk driver."
Marcus presses a tightly balled fist to his lips, trying to fight back the tears.
"Is he – are they?" Sandra manages to choke out.
"I talked to Fitz' - Mr. Grant's brother – John. He says Mrs. Grant has suffered a severe concussion and the baby has a broken wrist."
"Dear, Lord", Sandra mumbles half to herself. "And Mr. Grant?" Sandra asks nervously, and Marcus walks deeper into the room as he searches Geoffrey's face for a sign of what he is about to say.
"I'm afraid it's not good. Mr. Grant and his older daughter, Cena, are in critical condition. It seems they suffered the brunt of the accident."
Sandra drops into one of the chairs in front of Geoffrey's desk and Marcus no longer tries to stem the tears, so he allows them flow freely. Mr. Grant is a good man and has been good to him. If it were not for Fitzgerald Grant, he would never have gotten the opportunity to work in such a prestigious firm before completing his law degree. And he surely had been looking, knocking on the doors of all of the top law firms in the city. He is trying to wrap his mind around what he has heard as he thinks about election night, four days ago, when everyone was celebrating Fitzgerald Grant's victory.
"When will you know more, Geoffrey?" Sandra insists as she pulls tissues from up her sleeve, her usual storage place."
"John will contact me when he has more to share. In the meantime, we continue on here with our duties - running Grant Enterprises. Mr. Grant wouldn't expect anything less."
Sandra and Marcus nod and the three remain silent for the next few minutes, not knowing what to do next. Do they all stay huddled together, like most people want to do when a tragedy occurs? Or do they each go their separate way, back to their workspaces and try to remain calm while praying for the Grants.
"We should all try to get back to work", Geoffrey says, fumbling nervously with the papers on his desk. I will keep you posted as soon as I hear anything."
"Of course", Sandra says in a daze as she stands shakily from the chair. Marcus wraps an arm around her shoulders and escorts her down the long hall and back to her desk in the reception area.
"Can I get you anything, Sandra?" Marcus asks, looking into the woman's tear-filled eyes.
"I don't know – I don't know."
"Sit down, Sandra while I get you some water.
Still clutching the tablet to her chest, Sandra sits at her desk and stares across the empty reception area.
"Drink this, Sandra", Marcus says, handing the woman a glass of water.
"Thank you, Marcus. Thank you". With trembling hands, Sandra lifts the half-full glass of water to her lips.
"I'm going to make a few calls, Sandra. I'll be back shortly to check on you", giving the woman the best encouraging smile he can muster.
"Of course – of course", Sandra stutters.
Marcus walks quickly back down the long hall to the small office Sandra set up for him after he was hired as Geoffrey's assistant. He pulls out his phone and sends a group text to Marcella, Rashid, and Jason; and within seconds his phone is ringing.
"An accident? When? How bad?" Marcella fires off her questions while Rashid and Jason listen on the conference call.
"We don't have a lot of information right not, but I can tell you the baby has a broken wrist, Mrs. Grant has a severe concussion and is in shock."
"Oh my god", Marcella says with tears running down her face.
"And Mr. Grant and Cena …" Marcus rubs his forehead as he paces around the small office.
"Just say it, Marcus", Jason demands through the speakerphone.
"I understand they're in pretty bad shape."
Listening quietly, Rashid drops his chin to his chest and shakes his head in despair.
"Do you know happened, Marcus?" Rashid asks anxiously.
"All I know right now is they were hit by a drunk driver while on vacation."
"Cena's birthday is tomorrow", Jason says to no one in particular.
"None of this gets posted on social media – not until we know more. It's the family's call about what they want to share – and when", Marcus directs.
They all nod in silence as the tears stream down their faces.
"I have to tell Mrs. Grant's assistant - they're friends", Marcella says through the tears.
"But no one else, Marcella. We owe it to the Grants to protect their privacy as much as possible. I'll text you when I have more information. And, let's all pray for the Grants."
They all nod in silence before disconnecting the call. Marcella pulls on her jacket, grabs her purse from the bottom desk drawer, and pulls out her phone to order an Uber car. She cannot wait for public transportation today, she has to get over to the foundation and tell Mona what has happened.
XXX
Mona picks up her phone from the desk when it beeps, alerting her that someone has entered the waiting area. She taps on the security camera icon and smiles when she sees Marcella standing in the waiting room.
"Come on back, Marcella", Mona says cheerfully. She chuckles when she sees Marcella jump and look around the room trying to figure out where the voice is coming from. "Just come on back, Marcella. I'll explain when you get back here."
Mona pushes the buzzer to unlock the door that leads to the private office space. This additional security was a welcomed part of the renovation, especially after Charlie Barber's unexpected visit last year. Stomach in knots, Marcella pushes open the door and hurries down the hall in search of Mona's office. She passes Mrs. Grant's empty office and the tears begin to roll down her face again, and by the time she reaches Mona she is in a full-fledge meltdown.
"Marcella, I can see everything from …." Mona stops talking when she sees how shaken the young woman is.
"Marcella, what's the matter? What has you so upset?" Setting her phone onto the desk as she walks over quickly to the young woman. Placing her hands on Marcella's shoulders, she looks into Marcella's tear-filled eyes. "What's the matter – what's happened?"
"There's been an accident, Mona."
"What do you mean an accident? What kind of accident?" Mona's voice rising with each question.
"Mrs. Grant.…"
And before Marcella could say any more, Mona's world seems to have stopped. Her heart seems to have stopped as well as she grips Marcella's shoulders tightly.
"A drunk driver", Marcella continues quickly.
Mona legs weaken and she stumbles backward, reaching for the desk, reaching something solid, something she can hold on to. Her ears are ringing and she cannot comprehend what Marcella is saying. She sees the woman's lips moving, but she cannot hear anything she is saying. She cannot breathe.
"Sit down, Mona", Marcella says anxiously, as she helps the stricken woman into the chair next to the desk.
Mona wraps her arms around her body and begins to pray out loud as Marcella shakily lifts the glass carafe from the desk and pours water into the glass.
"Drink this, Mona", raising the glass to the woman's lips.
Mona tries to take a sip but she cannot swallow, so she shakes her head and waves away the glass. After a moment, she manages to take a few shallow breaths, an attempt to regain her voice.
"Is she?"
"No", Marcella says quickly and repeats for Mona everything Marcus shared with the team.
"I gotta get up there, Marcella. I gotta see her – see them."
"You can't go up there, Mona. They're two hours away. We have to wait down here until we get more information."
"And who is giving you this information? How do we even know it's even true?" Denial beginning to kick in.
"It's true, Mona", Marcella says sadly as she sits in the chair next to the woman. "Geoffrey, Mr. Grant's partner, told my friend, Marcus."
"And who the hell is this Marcus person? How do we know he -"
"It's true, Mona", looking into the woman's eyes and grabbing her hand.
"Well I won't just sit here on my hands waiting", snatching her hand away and walking over to her desk to pick up her phone.
"Who are you calling?" Marcella asks tearfully.
"Maura – Maura Grant. Olivia's mother-in-law."
XXX
"We have to contact the families who are bringing their children to Cena's birthday party tomorrow. We can't have all of those people come all the way up here – not under the circumstances", Maura says.
"Does anyone have the invitation list? How the hell do we contact all of those people?" Gerry demands.
"I'll call Hildie", Abby says. "Olivia says Hildie's been up here all week getting everything ready. Hopefully she has a list."
Abby hands her husband Ethan and walks back to the waiting room to deliver the bad news to Hildie.
XXX
Gasping for breath, Nalawa, the young missionary from the church in Dakar city, dashes into the hut where Calvin and Gwendolyn Pope are teaching a room full of mixed-age chldren. He has an urgent message from their parent church in the States, from Rev. Walker. He has to deliver the message no parent ever wants to receive, the message that their child has been severely injured in an accident.
The Popes tried frantically to contact Rev. Walker and any of the Grants on the bumpy from the Bush to Dakar, but there was no cellular service for most of the drive back to the city. When they reached the Dakar, they were able to speak with Gerry, who informed them that Fitz and Olivia were in a car accident driving up to their new home in the mountains. He gave no further details and said a private plane will be waiting for them at the Dakar airport, and when they arrive in Washington, a car will be waiting to drive them to the hospital.
The 17-hour flight from Dakar, Senegal to Tacoma, Washington was tortuous, and Calvin and Gwendolyn Pope held hands and prayed fervently the entire flight. Calvin tried to remain stoic for his wife's sake, but internally he is falling apart. His one and one child is hurt and he cannot get to her fast enough. While Olivia and her mother have always been close, sharing many good times together, she is really a daddy's girl, through and through.
Calvin gently squeezes his wife's hand as she dabs the tears streaming down her face. The long flight back home is giving Gwendolyn plenty of time to think about all of the wonderful times they shared with their daughter. She thinks about the day Olivia was born, coming into the world feet first. She thinks about Olivia's first day of school, when she wanted to take her favorite stuffed animal and Calvin had to tell her no for once. She thinks about when Olivia went away to overnight camp and she cried nonstop until she and Calvin left in the middle of the night to bring their daughter back home. She thinks about when Olivia graduated from college, proudly watching her flip her tassel. And she thinks about how beautiful Olivia looked on the day she married Fitzgerald Grant. And Gwendolyn begins to cry when she thinks about when Cena was born and silently admonishes herself for not being there for her daughter when Jolie was born.
"It can't end like this, Calvin. It just can't", covering her mouth with her hand.
Saturday
When the Popes arrive at the hospital the kind gentleman at the information desk directed them to their daughter's room on the ninth floor. As they rush off the elevator on the ninth floor, Gwendolyn spots Ben who is standing near the nurses' station talking to a woman who is wearing green scrubs.
"Ben - Ben", Gwendolyn screams, running down the hall with her hand outstretched.
When Bennie looks up and sees Mrs. and Mr. Pope rushing down the hall, his heart sinks because he has no idea what he is going to say to them. The Popes have been like a second set parents to him since they moved to Church Falls. They were the kind of parents many kids, especially teenagers, always wanted. They allowed their daughter the kind of personal freedom he and his friends certainly did not enjoy. They encouraged Olivia to exercise her curiosity and express herself however she chose to, although Olivia admitted to him more than once she wished her parents were a little less liberal.
When they reach the nurses' station, Calvin wraps an arm around his wife's shoulders, holds his breath, and looks anxiously into Ben's eyes. For the past 20 hours, since Nalawa ran into the school and delivered the dreadful news, he has been trying to be strong, trying to hold it together. While he told himself he was being stoic to support his wife, but the truth of the matter is he knew if he allowed himself to think the worse, to think that he would never feel the warmth of his precious daughter again, it would destroy him mentally.
"Ben - Ben. Where is our Livvia? Is she okay? Is she?"
"Olivia is unconscious and has a severe concussion, Mrs. Pope."
"Oh my god", eyes stretching wide as she cups a hand over her mouth.
"Apparently she hit her head during the accident. Fitz is pretty banged up, too", giving them the sanitized version of their injuries.
"Where are the children? Where's Cena and Jolie?" She asks frantically.
Ben takes a step toward Gwendolyn and places a comforting hand on her arm.
"Mrs. Pope, the girls were in the car, too", he says sadly.
"Oh my god - not the babies, too. Not the babies, too."
Her piercing screams echo through the sterile halls as she slides to the floor wailing like a wounded animal. Ben slides to the floor too, trying to comfort her as she clings tightly to his arms. Calvin turns away, unable to watch his wife in so much pain.
"This can't be. This can't be. Not all of them. Please Lord, not all of them. Calvin, the babies too", reaching for her husband's hand.
"I know – I know. They're all going to be all right, Gwennie", looking into Ben's eyes for reassurance.
When they hear the screams in the hall, Maura and Gerry run from the waiting room with John on their heels. Maura rushes over to Gwendolyn and slides onto the floor, wrapping her arms around a mother in pain.
"Maura", she cries, looking up into Maura's tear-stained face. "All of them, Maura? The babies too?"
"I know. I know", caressing Gwendolyn's face. "They're strong, Gwendolyn. And we have to be strong too."
Gwendolyn shakes her head from side to side.
"They're going to make it through this. We are all going to get through this - together. We have to believe it. Now let's get up – let's get you someplace to lay down."
"I need to see, Livvia. I need to see my baby."
"The doctors are with her now, Gwendolyn. They'll let us know when we can see her", Maura says, she and Ben helping Gwendolyn to her feet.
"Ben, where are the babies? Where's Fitzgerald?" Struggling to stand.
"Jolie sustained the least of the injuries. She has a fractured wrist and is downstairs in the Pediatrics Unit. Abigail is down there with her."
"Lord, Lord. Lord", Gwendolyn moans, bringing her clasped hands to her chest.
"Cena and Fitz - well they sustained the worst of it. They are both uconscious. Fitz has a collapsed lung, a few fractured ribs, and a severe head injury."
"Dear Lord. And Cena?" Calvin asks.
"As I said, Cena is still unconscious and doesn't seem to have any movement in her legs - right now", he adds quickly.
"Is she?
"We're not sure. More extensive tests need to be run on both of them. They are both being prepared to be airlifted down to Mercy Sinai where they can receive the proper treatment.
"Mother of God", Calvin mutters softly.
"I'll be going in the helicopter with them."
"Take care of them Ben. Please take care of them", Gwendolyn cries as she grips his arm.
"I will, Mrs. Pope. Now go with the nurse", giving the distraught woman an encouraging smile. "She's going to give you a mild sedative to help you relax."
"Come Gwendolyn" Maura says. "Let's go with the nurse", and Gwendolyn looks at her husband with fear in her eyes.
"Go with them, Gwennie. I'll be in shortly."
She nods, allowing herself to be led down the hall. Calvin looks over at Gerry who looks as white as a sheet.
"Gerry, what do you know? What the hell happened up here?" Calvin demands as John and Ben walk over to listen to their father's latest update.
"It was a pretty horrific crash, Calvin. I said none of this in front of the women, but I spoke briefly with the Chief of Police and he says based on preliminary reports, it's a miracle that any of them survived. If it weren't for a doctor on the scene – Olivia's friend – Fitzgerald would be dead."
"My god", Calvin exhales, running a hand down the side of his face.
"Do they know what happened?"
"We were all headed up here yesterday to spend a few days with Fitzgerald and Olivia to celebrate Fitzgerald winning the election and Cena's fifth birthday."
"God, Cena's birthday is today", Calvin says and Gerry nods.
"John drove his family up. I drove my wife. Bennie drove and Olivia's friend, Dr. Harris, drove. She came across the accident site and stopped to help. That's when she realized …." Gerry shakes his head, still trying that process everything that has happened.
Calvin nods for the man to continue.
"Like I said, everything is preliminary. The police still have to investigate, but it seems like they were hit by a drunk driver."
"My god. One person nearly kills four people because they decided to get behind the wheel of a car after having a few damn drinks", Calvin says angrily.
"That's the way it looks", Gerry says.
"Well I can't wait to get my hands on whoever did this."
"Unfortunately, you won't get the chance. The asshole died in the crash."
"Good", Calvin spits out angrily.
"I have to leave now", Bennie says. "They're ready to transport Fitz and Cena."
"John and I are going to drive back to the city and meet you at the hospital", Gerry says to his son.
"I'll stay here with the women", Calvin says.
"Good – good", Gerry says, running a hand through his thick, white hair.
"Dr. Grant", Marion calls from across the hall.
"Excuse me", Bennie says to his family before walking over to the woman dressed in green scrubs and brightly painted toes peeking through the stained high-heeled shoes.
"Yes, Dr. Harris."
"Olivia's doctors would like to speak with you before you leave."
"Thank you", smiling politely before turning and walking down the hall in the direction of Olivia's room.
XXX
Marion watches as Dr. Benjamin Grant fights back the tears while listening to the doctors update him on Olivia's condition. After the doctors leave the room, he walks over to Olivia's bed and kisses her tenderly on the forehead. He brushes her cheek with the back of his hand and turns to leave when he sees Marion standing in the doorway.
"Dr. Harris, thank you for saving my brother's life – for taking care of his family."
"That's what we do, Dr. Grant", smiling politely at the teary-eyed man.
Breaking Story
Newly elected President of City Council, Fitzgerald Grant and his family were involved in a fatal car accident yesterday. Two ambulances and a tow truck responded to the scene and the injured were rushed to an area hospital. The Needles Tunnel will be closed until further notice and we will keep you posted as we learn more about the fate of the Grant family.
Mayor Wilson picks up the remote control from the desk and turns off the television. He, leans back in his leather chair, lifting the glass of bourbon to his lips as a wide smile spread across his face.