With Cruel Intent (37 page)

“What are his chances?” the

younger Marshall asked and followed up

with, “If he does survive will he still be

himself?”

“He’s suffered not one, but two,

very serious MI’s in the past two days.

He’s incredibly strong, a lesser man

would be dead already. I can’t predict the

outcome but in my experience he’s got a

50/50 chance of coming out of this okay,”

the doctor carefully phrased his reply,

looking at his watch before excusing

himself and moving to the next patient.

“50/50? Could be worse,” Bev

said.

“Yeah, I guess, wish there was

something we could do other than wait. I

feel so helpless.”

“You should get some sleep. I’ve

got a room across the street at the hotel.

Take my key and sleep for a couple hours,

I’ll monitor things from here until you feel

up to it.” She pulled a passkey from her

wallet and handed it to him. “Take your

time; I’ll phone if anything happens. Your

phone on now?”

“Yup, I’ll take you up on that but I

won’t be long,” a very tired Jeremy said,

every ounce of energy he possessed

zapped from his body.

He walked the short distance to the

hotel, made it to the room but had a hard

time remembering how he actually got

there. He toppled over on the freshly made

bed and was out before his head hit the

pillow.

Five hours later the vibration, and

then the sound of his cell phone ringing

could be heard as it shifted about on the

countertop, waking him up. “Hello, what’s

up? Anything happened?” he managed to

get out, his mind still very fuzzy.

“Jeremy, get back over here,

we’ve run into a problem!”

He was suddenly very awake.

“What kind of a problem? What’s going

on Bev?”

“Just get over here as quickly as

you can.” He could hear the sounds of

nurses talking in the background and a

doctor issuing orders.

“Okay, I’m on my way! I’m

coming!” he said into the phone, already

moving down the hall and running toward

the hospital and his father.

The look on Beverly Marshall’s

face was grim. A collection of nurses and

doctors

were

huddled

around

the

monitors, each taking notes, commenting

to one another and the doctors whispering

in distinctly subdued tones.

“What’s happened?” Jeremy said,

not specifically to anyone but to all those

present. Beverly took him by the elbow

and pulled him aside.

“They’re not sure, but your father

has started to run a fever and is having

mini-seizures,” she said, trying to keep her

composure.

“But what does that mean? What

do they think is causing it?” Jeremy spoke

loud enough for all to hear, which was his

intent.

“I wish I knew,” Bev said and then

again more quietly, “I truly wish I knew.”

The doctor that they had spoken

with earlier, with the graying temples

approached the two with a look of grave

concern on his face. “Mrs. Marshall, Mr.

Marshall, I’m afraid we have some rather

distressing news for you. It appears that

Mr. Marshall has, and is experiencing, a

number of small but devastating strokes.

We’ve intervened with some medication

to expand the vessels that feed his brain

but we don’t know, and won’t know for a

time, how much damage has already been

done. His heart is still pumping arteriole

blood throughout his system but it’s just

getting by.”

Jeremy spoke first, “What are you

saying? That he won’t be able to recover

from this or if he does he’ll be a

vegetable?” He hated to use that phrase

but couldn’t think of any other way of

putting it, and he had to know.

Bev jumped in before the doctor

could respond, “How long could he stay

like this?”

“Could be minutes, hours or days,

we just can’t predict it, but if we take him

off the life support that is sustaining him at

the present time, he’ll pass fairly quickly.

His heart just can’t cope and his brain is

showing less function even as we’re

speaking.”

“Do you think you could give us a

minute doctor?” Bev asked, nodding at

Jeremy.

“Sure, take a minute, but we need

to know how you’d like to proceed,” he

said.

“Well Jeremy, I don’t know about

you but I know your dad, and I don’t think

life to him would be worth living if he had

to be in a home surrounded with machines

keeping him alive. We’ve got the money to

do that if you think that’s best, but I just

don’t see that as what he’d want. What do

you think?”

The son looked at his shoes, both

hands in his pockets, trying desperately to

make the right decision based on what

was best for his dad and not what was

best for him. “I think you’re right. He

loved life too much to want this as his

ending. I know he believed in an afterlife,

I’ve heard him say what a wonderful

reunion it would be with grandma and

grandpa when he joined them. If it’s his

time, I think he’d want to go, as hard as

that will be on us, I think that is what he

would want.”

United in their decision, they

shared a more compassionate hug than

they had earlier in the day. “Doctor, we

need some time to say our goodbyes,

would you please turn off the equipment

and let him pass naturally,” Beverly

requested, tears staining her blouse as she

heard her own words issue the death of

her husband.

Beverly leaned over the heavily

sedated Marshall in the hospital bed, she

held him, his head in her bosom as she

rocked back and forth, her tears spilling

and running down his face. Jeremy stood

away in the shadows of the curtains giving

her some time alone with his father. He

could hear her gently speaking to him,

offering words of comfort and enduring

love. The nurses had done as requested

and disconnected all the tubes and

machines, except for a lone heart monitor,

that beeped out the rhythm of his

weakening heart. Ten minutes after his

stepmother entered, she exited, running

past him and into the nearest bathroom.

Jeremy took a deep breath and

entered the confined space of the intensive

care room, closing the curtain behind him.

He knelt by his father’s side took his hand

in his and held it firmly. There was no

response. “Dad, I’m here, it’s Jeremy. I

don’t know if you can hear me but I had to

tell you I’m sorry for all the stupid things

I’ve done. I wish I could turn back the

hands of time and spend the past two years

with you, but I can’t, and now here we

are. You can’t imagine how I’ve missed

you. I guess you raised a son just as bull-

headed and stubborn as yourself. I’ll

never forget you dad, the times we spent

together I’ll one day tell my own son, and

your memory will live on.”

A beep on the monitor alerted

Jeremy that something had changed; he

looked up to see the bps signal dropping,

now only registering 36. This is happening

too fast, he’s slipping away faster than....

“Dad, I need you to know that I love you. I

always have and I always will.” At that

moment a miraculous thing happened,

Jeremy didn’t know if it was his father

speaking back to him in the only way he

could, or just the muscles reacting to death

as one finally gives in, but there was a

very

distinct,

knowing

squeeze

of

Jeremy’s hand, the assurance that a son

needs to carry on, and then he was gone.

The blue signal on the monitor flat-lined,

and a steady beep sounded the end of a

remarkable life.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Lester

bolted

upright,

sweat

dripping from his nose and chin, his hands

clenched together in a balled up fist, a

cluster of bedding squeezed tightly

between them. Drawn from his murderous

dream too quickly, he’d literally held the

fate of Virginia May in his hands, and now

it was lost. His nights, over the many

years since she’d left him, were filled

with such dreams, but they teased him,

never

completing

the

act

whether

malicious or sexual. He kicked the covers

off and lay back on the cool sheets, letting

his heart rate return to normal as he

thought of the things that he needed to

accomplish before he returned to his bed.

The phone call he’d had with Felix the

day before still troubled him.

“What an arrogant jerk,” he

thought. “I’m done with the whole damn

thing if that five grand isn’t in the mailbox

this morning!”

The thought of which gave him the

energy to rise from the comfortable bed

and throw on some shorts so he could

check for the money. The walk down the

path to the mailbox was a beautiful one

this time of the morning. The sun glistened

off the dew that covered everything, a pair

of hummingbirds hovered over some

honeysuckle that lined the drive and lead

to the modest farm home. A mailbox sat at

the end of the drive, weeds lined the ditch

and were on the verge of consuming the

box. Lester flipped down the front door

and peered inside. A manila envelope was

stuffed into the enclosure, folded over on

itself with nothing written on the outside,

but he knew it was for him. He pulled the

parcel out and bounced it lightly in his

hand.

“Looks like I’m still employed,”

he said, as he strolled back up the dirt

path, thinking of what mischief he might

cause today.

The parcel contained the $5000 he

had requested, 250 well-worn $20’s

stacked and bundled, with a green rubber

band holding them together. However,

there were no directions, instructions or

pictures to compliment the money and no

indication of what they wanted done next.

Lester assumed the plan would move

forward as discussed with Felix, one

more off the cuff 'outing', and then they

would decide the next move based on the

publics and authorities response. Today

would be tricky; the police presence in the

area near the Air Force Base would

certainly be extensive. The people of the

county had all but demanded the Sheriff

Department increase their patrols, and

some neighborhoods had instituted a

watch program, civilians taking turns

walking the streets to stop or report

suspicious activities. Sheriff Lupo had

warned these individuals to stay within

the laws and only carry firearms if a

permit was issued, but Lester knew better,

every one of them would be packing,

increasing the risk to him and them.

He had spent a couple of hours

drinking coffee and sizing up possible

targets while looking over the map pinned

to the wall in his cloaked office. The

pictures, that covered a portion of the

wall, brought back some adrenalin filled

memories that fueled his desire for more.

Unbeknownst to Blanche, she would be

the subject of his next photo shoot, but

there was much to be done before he

could have his fun with her. A house on

Pine Breeze Circle caught his eye, much

like the others, it had access from a green

belt and very quiet. The officers

investigating the previous crimes would

be looking for another nighttime caper. If

he acted during the day maybe he could

shake them up and prove that he was more

than a one-dimensional criminal. It had

been a while since he'd worked during the

day, he would want to blend in, the van

would be out, too many watchful eyes and

people were already on the alert. The