Terminal (34 page)

R
OBERT
H
ARRIS
had been watching every move Tom Widdicomb made. He’d seen Sean and Janet before Tom had, and when Tom initially didn’t react, Harris had been disappointed, thinking that his whole “house of cards” theory was in error. But then Tom had spotted them and had scurried back to his Escort. In response Harris started his own car and drove out of the parking lot, thinking and hoping that Tom intended to follow Janet. At the corner of Twelfth Street he pulled over
to the side of the road. If he were correct, Tom would soon be exiting, and Harris’s suspicion would be significantly reinforced.

Presently Sean and Janet drove by and turned north to cross the Miami River. Then, just as Harris expected, Tom came and turned in the same direction. Only a black limo separated Tom from his apparent quarry.

“This is looking more and more interesting,” Harris said to himself as he started to pull out. Behind him a horn blasted and Harris jammed on his brakes. A big green Mercedes missed him by inches.

“Damn!” Harris growled. He didn’t want to lose Tom Widdicomb and had to tromp on the gas pedal to catch up. He was determined to follow the man to see if he made any overt threatening gestures toward Janet Reardon. If he did, then Harris would nail him.

Harris was content until Tom turned west instead of east on the 836 East-West Expressway. As he passed Miami International Airport, then merged with Florida’s Turnpike heading south, Harris realized this was going to be a far longer trip than he’d anticipated.

“I
DON’T
like this,” Sterling said as they exited Florida’s Turnpike at Route 41. “Where are these people going? I wanted them to go home or stay in crowds.”

“If they turn west up here at the next intersection, they’re on their way into the Everglades,” Wayne said. He was doing the driving. “Either that or they’re heading across Florida. Route 41 cuts through the Everglades from Miami to the Gulf Coast.”

“What’s on the Gulf Coast?” Sterling asked.

“Not much, in my book,” Wayne said. “Nice beaches and good weather, but it’s subdued. Naples is the first real town. There are also a couple of islands like Marco and Sanibel. Mostly it’s condo heaven with a lot of retirees. Pretty low-key, but high end. You can spend millions for a condo in Naples.”

“Looks like they’re turning west,” Sterling said, his eyes on the limousine ahead of them. They were following Tanaka, not Sean, assuming Tanaka would keep Sean in sight.

“What’s between here and Naples?” Sterling asked.

“Not a lot,” Wayne said. “Just alligators, saw grass, and Cypress swamp.”

“This is making me very nervous,” Sterling said. “They’re playing directly into Tanaka’s hands. Let’s hope they don’t stop in some isolated pull-out.”

Sterling glanced to the right and did a double-take. In the blue sedan alongside them was a familiar face. It was Robert Harris, head of security at Forbes. Sterling had just been introduced to the man the previous day.

Sterling pointed Harris out to Wayne and explained who he was. “This is a disturbing complication,” he said. “Why would Mr. Harris be following Sean Murphy? Chances are he’ll only serve to make this situation significantly more difficult than it need be.”

“Would he know about Tanaka?” Wayne asked.

“I cannot imagine he would,” Sterling said. “Dr. Mason would not be so foolish.”

“Maybe he’s got a crush on the chick,” Wayne offered. “Maybe he’s following Reardon, not Murphy.”

Sterling sighed. “It’s disconcerting how quickly an operation can go awry. A minute ago I was confident we would be able to control the course of events since we had me informational edge. Unfortunately, I no longer believe that. I’m beginning to have that uncomfortable feeling that chance will become a major factor. Suddenly there are too many variables.”

B
RIAN HADN’T
checked any luggage. He’d simply brought a carry-on and his briefcase. After getting off the plane he went directly to the Hertz counter. After a short ride on the Hertz shuttle bus he found his rental car in the lot: a cream-colored Lincoln Town Car.

Armed with a detailed street map of Miami, Brian first
drove south to the Forbes residence. He’d tried calling Sean’s number several times from the airport in Boston, but there hadn’t been any answer. Concerned, he’d called Kevin from the plane, but Kevin had assured him that the police had not yet picked Sean up.

At the Forbes residence, Brian knocked on Sean’s door, but there was no response. Hoping Sean would soon return, Brian left him a note saying that he was in town and would be staying at the Colonnade Hotel. Brian jotted down the hotel’s phone number. Just as he was slipping the note under Sean’s door, the door opposite opened.

“You looking for Sean Murphy?” a shirtless young man in jeans asked.

“Yes,” Brian said. He then introduced himself as Sean’s brother.

Gary Engels introduced himself. “Sean was here this afternoon around two-thirty,” he said. “I told him the police had been here looking for him so he didn’t stay long.”

“Did he say where he was going?” Brian asked.

“Nope,” Gary said. “But he took a suitcase and a garment bag with him when he left.”

Brian thanked Gary, then returned to his rental car. The idea of Sean leaving with luggage did not sound promising. Brian only hoped his brother wasn’t dumb enough to be trying to make a run for it. Unfortunately, with Sean, anything was possible.

Brian headed for the Forbes Cancer Center. Although the switchboard was closed, Brian thought that the building itself would be open, and it was. He went into the foyer.

“I’m looking for Sean Murphy,” he told the guard. “My name is Brian Murphy. I’m Sean’s brother from Boston.”

“He’s not here,” the guard said with a heavy Spanish accent. He consulted a log in front of him. “He left at two-twenty. He came back at three-oh-five, but left again at three-fifty.”

“Do you have any way to get in touch with him?” Brian asked.

The guard consulted another book. “He’s staying at the
Forbes residence. Would you like that address?”

Brian told the guard he already had that information and thanked him. He walked outside and got back into his car, wondering what he should do. He questioned the wisdom of his coming to Miami without having spoken to Sean first and wondered where his brother could be.

Deciding to check into his hotel, Brian started his car and made a U-turn to head out of the parking lot. In the process he spotted a black Isuzu that looked suspiciously like Sean’s. Steering closer to it, he noticed that the plates were from Massachusetts. Putting his Lincoln in park, Brian hopped out to peer into the 4 × 4. It was Sean’s, all right. The interior was filled with his fast-food wrappers and empty foam cups.

It seemed odd that Sean would leave it parked in the hospital lot. Going back into the building, Brian mentioned the car’s presence to the guard and asked if he could account for it. The guard simply shrugged his shoulders.

“Is there any way to get in touch with the director of the Center before Monday?” Brian asked.

The guard shook his head.

“If I were to leave my name and hotel number,” Brian said, “would you call your supervisor and ask if he could pass it on to the director of the Center?”

The guard nodded agreeably and even got out a pen and paper for Brian to write on. Brian wrote the note quickly, then handed it to the guard along with a five-dollar bill. The guard’s face lit up with a big smile.

Brian returned to his car, drove to his hotel, and checked in. Once in his room, the first thing he did was call Kevin to give him the number. Kevin again assured him there’d been no arrest.

Brian then called Anne to reassure her that he’d gotten to Miami safely. He admitted he’d not yet spoken with Sean but expected to do so soon. He gave her his number at the hotel before hanging up.

After speaking with his mother, Brian kicked off his shoes and opened his briefcase. If he was stuck in a hotel room, at least he could get some work done.

“T
HIS IS
more like the scenery I expected to see in South Florida,” Sean said. They had finally left civilization behind. The four-lane highway lined with strip malls and condominiums had given way to a two-lane road slicing straight across the Everglades.

“It’s breathtakingly beautiful,” Janet said. “It looks almost prehistoric. I half expect to see a brontosaurus rise up from one of these ponds,” she added with a laugh.

They were cruising past oceans of saw grass interspersed with hummocks of pine, palm, and cypress. Exotic birds were everywhere. Some were ghostly white, others iridescent blue. Huge cumulus clouds billowed in the distance, looking whiter than usual against the intense blue sky.

The drive had done much to help calm Janet. She was glad to be leaving Miami and her patients behind. With Sean driving, she had her shoes off and her bare feet planted on the dash. She was dressed in her most comfortable pair of jeans with a simple white cotton shirt. For work she’d had her hair tied back, but she’d taken it down as soon as they’d pulled out of the Forbes lot. With all the car windows rolled down, it was blowing free.

The only problem was the sun. Since they were heading due west, bright sunlight was streaming through the windshield with a vengeance. Both Sean and Janet were wearing their sunglasses, and they had tilted the sun visors in an attempt to keep their faces shaded from the harsh rays.

“I think I’m beginning to understand Florida’s attraction,” Janet said, the sun notwithstanding.

“It makes winter in Boston seem extra cruel,” Sean said.

“How come you didn’t want to take your Isuzu?” Janet asked.

“There’s a little problem with my car,” Sean said.

“What kind of problem?” Janet asked.

“The police are interested in talking to its owner.”

Janet took her feet down from the dash. “I don’t think I like what I’m hearing,” she said. “What’s with the police?”

“The police came to the Forbes residence,” Sean said. “Gary Engels talked with them. I think someone got the tag number from my license plate after the alarm went off at the funeral home.”

“Oh, no!” Janet exclaimed. “Then the police are looking for us.”

“Correction,” Sean said. “They’re looking for me.”

“Oh, God!” Janet said. “If someone saw the license plate then they saw both of us.” She closed her eyes. This was the kind of nightmare she’d feared.

“All they have is a tag number,” Sean said. “That’s hardly evidence.”

“But they can get our fingerprints,” Janet said.

Sean shot her a look of mild disdain. “Be serious,” he said. “They’re not about to send a team of crime scene investigators out to dust the site over a broken window and a cadaver’s missing brain.”

“How do you know?” Janet shot back. “You’re no law enforcement expert. I think we should turn ourselves in to the police and explain everything.”

Sean gave a scornful laugh. “Please! We’re not giving ourselves up. Don’t be ridiculous. Remember, they’re looking for me. They want to talk with me. If worse comes to worst, I’ll take the rap. But it’s not going to come to that. I put in a call to Brian. He knows people in Miami. He’ll fix it.”

“Did you speak to Brian?” Janet asked.

“No, not yet,” Sean admitted. “But I left a message on his answering machine. When we get to the hotel, I’ll try again and leave the hotel number if he’s still not in. By the way, did you bring your credit card?”

“Of course I brought my credit card,” Janet said.

“Thank heaven for your trust fund,” Sean said. He reached over and gave Janet’s knee a playful slap. “I made a reservation at the Ritz Carlton. The Quality Inn was full.”

Janet stared out the passenger-side window, wondering what she was doing with her life. It had nothing to do with the credit card issue. She didn’t mind picking up the tab every now and again. Sean was generous with his money when he
had it, and she had more than enough. What bothered her was the fact that they were wanted by the police. It was gallant of Sean to offer to take the rap alone, but Janet knew she couldn’t let him do it even if it did fly, which it probably wouldn’t. Whoever had seen that license plate had seen her too. Falling in love with Sean seemed to be bringing her nothing but grief, first emotionally and now potentially professionally. She wasn’t sure how the Forbes Center would react to having a nurse on staff who was charged with God knows what in connection with a funeral home break-in. She couldn’t think of too many employers who would view that kind of record as a plus.

Janet was on the verge of panic, yet there was Sean, as calm and cocky as ever. He really seemed to be enjoying himself. How he could be so cool and collected knowing the Miami police were searching for him was beyond her. She wondered if she would ever truly understand him.

“What’s the story with Naples, Florida?” Janet asked, deciding to change the subject. “You said you’d explain once we were on our way.”

“Very simple,” Sean said. “One of the patients from that group of thirty-three lives in Naples. His name is Malcolm Betencourt.”

“One of the medulloblastoma patients in remission?” Janet asked.

“Yup,” Sean said. “One of the first to be treated. He’s been in remission for almost two years.”

“What do you plan to do?”

“Call him up.”

“And say what?”

“I don’t know exactly,” Sean said. “I’ll have to improvise. I think it would be interesting to hear about the Forbes treatment from the patient’s point of view. I’m especially curious as to what they told him. They had to have told him something just to get the informed consent forms signed.”

“What makes you think he’ll talk to you?” Janet asked.

“How could he resist my Irish charm?” Sean said.

“Seriously,” Janet said. “People don’t like to talk about their infirmities.”

“Infirmities, perhaps,” Sean admitted. “But recovery from an otherwise terminal illness is something else. You’d be surprised. People love to talk about that kind of thing and the world-famous doctor who made it happen. Have you ever noticed how people like to think their doctor is world famous, even if he practices someplace like Maiden or Revere?”