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They Key to Believingchapter 13
The Battle At HandCarter’s flight arrived late Wednesday night. He took a taxi home and did his best to not call her when he assumed she would be getting into her apartment. He remembered thinking that in past relationships he would make a point to not call back right away because he didn’t want to look like he was too interested in the woman he went on a date with, but he made a point to call back eventually, so that the woman would not think he forgot about her. He knew this was different with Sloane, though, and he felt suddenly as if he was at a loss for ideas. When he got into his home he dropped his baggage on to the floor and made his way to the liquor cabinet. He was fully aware that he wanted to do something to feel better, well, something, anything, now that she had gone back to Seattle for work. But he knew that liquor wouldn’t help him. He looked up at the glass cabinets on each side of his bar in the corner of his home, and thought for a moment of how he had a different wine for each kind of date he had been on in the past. He had become quite the connoisseur of these things in his single days. He thought temporarily about taking a random bottle of wine and throwing it at the wall. Not because he was angry, not because he wanted to show his revulsion for the life he had created, but because he could do it. Moments like that, where he felt flighty, he wanted some sort of physical evidence of the fact that he had played a role all of his life. And he did not even know how easy it had become for him to play that role. He knew that there was no use in breaking a wine bottle against the wall that would have to be cleaned up to remove stains on the carpeting or eliminate damage to the floor. He walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a Paulaner Weiss beer from the door of the fridge. He turned to the drawer where he kept a bottle opener, decided to forgo a beer glass (which he would never normally do because he lifted the beer with a slice of lemon in the glass and its juice along the rim), and started drinking from the bottle. After the first sip, he decided that he needed the glass, because he really did prefer the taste of a better weiss beer with fresh lemon. Cutting a lemon from the fridge; he then managed to loosen his tie and unbutton the top button of his dress shirt while he kicked off his shoes. He dropped himself down in a chair that allowed him to lean back and look out his window and see the view from out his window of New York City. While he drank his beer he thought about the fact that his place would look extremely clean, that it had not looked lived-in to the average person Then he thought that he had ignored the average person’s standards all of his life, and he wouldn’t adhere to their standards now. He preferred to look at the view out his window instead of looking at trinkets he could have collected in his apartment. He leaned his head back in his chair, thought for a moment again about Sloane watching the fire in his fireplace at home, then thought about her running to the window when she saw the view. She thought it was just as beautiful as he thought it was. He thought about whether or not he should call her, and then tried to think about anything else.
When Sloane got home that evening, she pulled a note that had been taped to her door keyhole. She noted the stationery that her landlord used before she read as she read the note, pushing the key into the lock, turning it and opening her door. Miss Emerson - Someone asked us if they could get into your apartment to look for something they left there. Since you were out of town for only a few days, I told them to come back for their belongings when you got back. They didn’t give a name - they said they’d get a hold of you later. - Beth After she read that note she had no time to worry about Carter; she mentally and visually scoured her apartment to see if anything was changed since she left for Ohio. Everything was locked and everything seemed to be in the same place and she knew that she had distributed her only copies of the paperwork she had received from Shane in any place other than her apartment, but a part of her could not shake the fear. Would she have to live like this forever now, worrying about her own safety? And she also wondered what these visitors would do, knowing that her apartment was uninhabited since she was out of town. She immediately turned her computer and printer on to write a note to her neighbors and her landlord. She started with a note to the neighbors first. “Hello” no, wait, she thought... make it sound more personal. She scratched the idea of using ’hello’ and started typing again. Hi, it is your neighbor in 122... I hope you don’t mind the typed letter, but I was wondering if you noticed anyone coming around my apartment, because I have been gone for a few days and I am wondering if anyone came by... If you could think of anything, please let me know. If you need to, you could call me at home at 555-9283, or call my work at 555-1918, extension 323, and thanks a lot - - Sloane Trying to put it out of her mind, she then typed a note to her landlord. Beth - Hi, It’s Sloane Emerson in 122, and I am really curious about this person who wanted something out of my apartment. You said in your note they did not leave a name, but could you possibly give a description, or tell me exactly when they came by my apartment? I ask because I don’t think I have anyone’s belongings here. Thanks for letting me know, and I look forward to hearing from you soon. If you want to write it in a note, that is fine, or you could call me at home at 555-9283, or call my work at 555-1918. Thank you again, and I look forward to hearing form you soon - - Sloane She printed the appropriate number of copies of the note for her neighbors and for her landlord so that she could slide them under doors as she left for work. She knew that she did not want to touch the clothes that she would have to eventually unpack that were still in her briefcase, so she went back to her computer, going over notes she hadn’t thought about that may be relevant for altering existing medications to help AIDS patients. By the next morning she had slid notes under the doors of all of her neighbors, left the note for her landlord in through the slot at the office door, printed copies of her notes from the previous night for Kyle and Howard to go over with her, set up a schedule of who to leave messages for while she was at work (she also noted that she should call her father, Toby and Steve to make sure everything was okay with them), she added in her notes that she should contact Carter about any progress with the book to see if there was anything Quentin Publishing needed from her and ... and really, she was probably using her book as a cover to talk to Carter, but she would use any plausible excuse she could. But there would be other things to tend to when she got into the office, like checking on any progress with Ellen’s medication; as she stepped into her office she looked around and noted again that she was the earliest person there. Crossing the lab to her office, she carried her mail and her notes from office members in her hand with her briefcase. The first thing she noted was the flashing light on her answering machine next to her phone. She had been checking her messages while she was away, so she knew this had to be a recent message. She put her belongings down long enough to start the player, so she could organize her things again to get back to work. She had only one message. Hello, it’s Mr. Donovan here, and I wanted to make sure you got in from your flight safely. I had some changes to the suffix you had added to the end of the book, so let us know when you could receive the fax and we could send it to you. Hope you enjoyed learning how a press works, and if you need anything, please let us know. She thought it was adorable that Carter referred to himself as “Mr. Donovan.” A very small part of her was angry that he called before she came in early that morning for work, but she couldn’t help but like hearing his voice. She made a point to save the message and she played it once more and left a brief message at his office before getting to work in her office. Knowing that everyone she needed to call had answering machines at their desks, she figured it would be smartest to call them at this hour, so she would not get trapped in a long conversation. She dialed the first number. Hi, dad, it’s Sloane. I was out of town for a few days, but I thought I’d check to see how you’re doing... and just to let you know that I’m here, I guess, and that everything is okay with me. If you need anything, let me know. Bye. Steve, hi, it’s Sloane, and I just got in from out of town and wanted to make sure that everything was okay with you. I know I gave you those papers last week, but I’m sure you put them in your safety deposit box... I was just checking with you to make sure everything was okay. If you need anything, let me know, and thanks. Sloane realized at this point that she was calling the people who possessed a copy of her paperwork. She continued with leaving messages. Hi, Toby, It’s Sloane, I knew you would not be in at this hour, but I wanted to see if you had made any progress with your research and solving any of the problems with samples being pulled... if you’re up for coffee or a chance to talk when we are not at the office, let me know, and thanks. Intentionally deciding to wait until all of her other calls were made, she then called Carter. He picked up his phone, which she was not expecting. “Carter Donovan.” Sloane thought for a brief moment about the speed and efficiency he had in answering his phone that way. “Mr. Donovan, this is Ms. Emerson.” She then waited and noted the amount of time it took for Carter to respond to her greeting on the phone. “I’m glad you’re on a private line.” “And I like the fact that you left a message for me where you called yourself Mister Donovan, because it makes you sound so much more formal ... And I only have one line to take calls from, you know.” “I’m sorry I’m used to private lines in this business, and I planned to leave you a message that way, darling. And I miss you desperately.” “So you must realize that I am keeping that message so I can hear your voice at a moment’s notice. And I will guess from your last line that I am not the only one doing the missing?” “I didn’t know you had a monopoly on missing. Do I have to pay royalties?” “You make more money than I do, so maybe you should.” “But you don’t do anything with your money, so you probably have more money saved than I do.” “Probably. Keep in mind that I saw the place you lived in.” “What, you don’t like it?” “Actually, I love it, but you get to pay through the nose for it, and there’s no great view here in Seattle to gaze at... And just so it doesn’t look like we are spending too long on the phone together, I thought I’d call you back to tell you what time I could receive a fax of the corrections. You realize that I’ll probably accept your changes, but thank you for bouncing them off of me first.” “I figured you would think the changes were fine, but I was just using this brazen excuse to hear your voice.” “You’ll have to let me call you again at your private line Carter, and let me get your voice mail so you can have a recording of my voice if you want it, because right now that is about all I have of you.” “Give it time, angel. You already possess more of me than my voice in one recording.” “I know. And you the same.” Sloane let a moment pass in silence before she spoke again. “I like the fact that we can just sit in silence like just now and not feel as if we have to fill the space with mindless chatter. And I also like the fact that you have given me a few nicknames in this phone conversation alone.” “Like ’angel’?” “You’ve used angel and darling, Carter.” “You’re my darling angel, and yes, it is nice to not have to fill the phone lines with inane chatter. And I will send the changes off to you in a fax.” “Then feel free to call me in a half hour so I can confirm the changes with you.” Carter smiled as they said good-bye to each other. She walked toward the fax machine and waited for the fax coming through so she could look over the changes. The rest of the week and the following week had operated in the same fashion as past weeks with Madison -- slow-moving progress, research on attempts to change the existing inhibitors, efforts to keep all data tracked so they could have proven records of all of their work, and the occasional argument session with Tyler about letting out the right images of Madison and not making any waves with people about the progress (or lack thereof) that Madison has. Minutes before an advised press conference the next Tuesday, Sloane, Kyle and Howard grouped together and met with Tyler. Sloane was the one doing the majority of the talking with Tyler, but Howard and Kyle occasionally interjected to calm her down and offer an air of calmness to their argument. “So, Tyler, you think the press conference I did before was a complete failure because I did not listen to you and read your speech verbatim?” “I --” Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, she cut him off. “No one seemed to have a problem with what I said, and no one disagreed with Madison, and now everyone thinks that the U.S. government is trying to steal from us -- and withhold information from the people.” “What, you want everyone to run around thinking that our government is after us?” “They can start feeling the way I have been feeling.” “I don’t even want to know why you have been feeling that way, but what you’re going to end up getting are a bunch of people with aluminum foil wrapped around their heads trying to get transmissions from aliens at night while everyone else is trying to sleep.” “Aliens and AIDS research?” she asked. “These people may be on to something,” Kyle interjected. “I mean, what if they have seen things and have had them suppressed by forces beyond their control? It might lead to more of what we deem as irrational behavior, but when you have no one else on your side --” “Kyle,” Tyler started, “You’re starting to sound like that Mulder guy on that show ’The X Files’. Do you really have the time to watch television that much to know that show? And have you ever noticed the far-fetched ideas that he comes up with on that show?” “And have you ever, in all of the time you obviously have to watch the show, have you ever seen his ideas disproved? He always has that girl there scientifically proving his theories as correct. So I suppose we’ve got Sloane as our girl providing science and reason and logic to our theories as we work... and why did you have to bring that show up in the first place?” “Why are we even having this discussion?” she asked in an effort to stop their bickering. “We are going out there to speak today, we have your speeches and notes, and we will change them some -- and do not tell me that we can’t do that, because it has worked to our advantage in the past.” “We won’t get rid of your notes altogether,” Howard stated. “You have very valid points in here, points that are well articulated that we had never thought of.” “And we’re not even planning to change it much at all, so rest easy, Tyler,” she added. Sloane turned to go to the conference room after she spoke, then stopped to wait for the rest of the gentlemen to catch up to her. She turned around hastily and asked Tyler, “Does my suit look okay?” She waited a moment before continuing, “Do I look like I represent a ’kind and caring company’?” “I --” “Do I look feminine enough?” She said, knowing how angry it would make him. Howard put his hand on her shoulder as he was about to walk around them to see the front of the conference area through the curtains, leaned his head toward hers, and said, “You look beautiful, Ms. Emerson.” She looked at Howard, smiled, and followed him toward the doorway to start their press conference. At a point during the following week she was able to call Carter on business to ask him about changes to her essay. “I understand all of the changes that you had marked, and I hate to say this, but I was confused by the circle around the ’x’ and the capital p with two vertical lines at it. What are they?’ “Oh, I’m sorry, the ’p’ symbol is for where a paragraph should start or end, and the x and the circle are to signify a period. They are proofreading marks, and they are easier to see when other people are checking for changes.” “I’m sorry I did not know that,’ Sloane answered. “There is no reason why you should have known it,” Carter answered. “Sorry I didn’t explain it before. The changes should take place to finalize the design and editing of the book by the end of this week, if not by next Monday. I can send you a finished copy of the last essay for you to check over as well. So with the ’okay’ from Madison, the book can start to print at the end of next week.” “Wonderful. We have been finishing changes to the vitamin supplements that will be released as a jar at the same time as the book. The production for it should coincide with the book beautifully.” “Then everything is apparently taken care of,” Carter stated. “You haven’t moved your plant to Seattle, so everything is not finished yet.” “You think I can move Quentin to Seattle? What about your company?” “You think I can move a pharmaceuticals company across the country?” “Ms. Emerson, has there been a problem with working over the phone this way?” “Definitely. ...Are you on a speaker phone?” “No.” “If you want to satiate your big clients, then you should be here holding my frail little hand through this whole messy printing process...” “I didn’t know you were the type of woman that needed hand holding, Angel.” “Are they your hands, Carter?” Kyle walked into her room just as she finished that last sentence, so she had to say her farewells to Carter and tell him to contact her next Monday to let Madison know about the future production of the book. By the end of the day Carter called Sloane again, using the guise of details for the book as his cover. “Ms. Emerson, I wanted to inform you in advance, if there were any problems with proof production in the future, that I will be attending a conference in New Orleans in a few months. I could give you the dates now, if you needed them for your records.” “Mr. Donovan, are you on speaker phone?” “No, why do you ask? And are you?” “Carter, I never use speaker phone here, so you do not have to cover up for my deficit.” “I wouldn’t share your voice with another soul, so I’m not ever putting you on a speaker phone.” “So was New Orleans your excuse for calling me?” “Basically...” “I stayed there once, at a small apartment at Dumaine and Royal. Couldn’t leave my car there, though.” “The company is covering the hotel for us on Peter Street, right by the convention center.” Carter changed his tone and said, “And you’ve been to New Orleans?” “A friend of a friend was going to college there, and they offered a place for us to stay during Mardi Gras.” “You went to Mardi Gras?” “I think the walk to and from Bourbon Street on the Saturday before Fat Tuesday was a chore in and of itself. But I have to admit, we knew people who had an apartment with a balcony on Bourbon Street, and being up there made it really entertaining, Carter... And I might even consider going to meet you in New Orleans for the Hell of it. But you know, if I was out by you, I would prefer going to Montreal.” “The next time you’re out here, consider it done.” Carter reached over to his map of New York, eyeing the two feasible routes reaching up into Montreal as he continued. “It would only be about 5 or 6 hours by car; we’d just take 15 up to 10, then over the St. Lawrence to Sherbrooke. North on that for less than a mile and you’re in their China Town. And you’ve never been?” “It is easier to visit when you are driving distance, so no.” “We’ll keep it in mind. And we will get you there.” “Let’s settle for getting the book started first...”
time: 11:47, E.S.T. Friday evening location: New York City, just off Broadway, near 57th Street at Madison Square premise: Carter walking home after socializing on 42nd Street “Why did I even bother trying to go out?” Carter said as he crossed Broadway, just along 57th street, along the edge of Madison Square. Every third light hanging over into the parkway was out; there was a peculiar feel to the surroundings as he tried to find an available taxi. He guessed that at this hour he would have to be at the other side of the Square in order to be able to get a taxi. The ocean breeze happened to catch him as he was walking down the street. The wind almost drew a scream to him he heard just inside the Square. The noise concerned him. He yelled toward the greens and sidewalks. “Hello?” Nothing. “Is anyone there?” He stepped away from the street, trying to look at the pathways when the lights were out. No response. Carter looked at both sides of the street to see if there was anyone there that could help him while he looked to see if someone was hurt. Carter knew that a woman could potentially be attacked, even raped, and left in the bushes in New York. He also knew that strangers wouldn’t be willing to help only because Carter ’thought’ he heard a noise and needed assistance. He saw no one on the street for the mile stretch along 57th. No one responded to his call from inside the Square either. He wondered if no one was there at all, and made a few calls while he walked into a darkened part of the Square. He heard a woman there scream, that was why he searched, he was looking for that someone in need, but once he started to look for them he realized he heard nothing at all, not even the sounds of birds or cars in the streets. Then all he felt was the large crack on the back of his head as he dropped to the ground. Then everything went black to him.
The police responded to an anonymous call that a man had been attacked in the southwest corner of Madison Square. And ambulance came at about the same time as the police did. The man was wavering in and out of consciousness as the paramedics worked on him in the park. “No broken bones, just strap him on the stretcher and get him to the ambulance.” “Looks like there was just the one blow to the head,” the second paramedic said. The two cops on the scene noted that he was fully clothed and had one of the paramedics pull his wallet from his pocket. “Hey, this looks like a rich kid, Dave,” the first cop said. “And they didn’t even snag the wallet.” “I’d guess the rich kid had drug problems, John,” Dave said, as he made sure he had a bag and his gloves on to pick up the needle laying next to the victim. “Why?” Dave held up the hypodermic needle for John to see. “The victim or assailant used this needle.” John walked over to the paramedics before they left, gave them his card, and asked to be contacted when this guy got in -- and that a drug toxicology screen should be done on him. The phone line to Madison Pharmaceuticals patched the call in to Sloane. Seattle time, it was just before eleven in the evening, and she happened to be in the office. “Sloane Emerson.” “Hello, Ms. Emerson, do you know a Mr. Carter Donovan?” “Yes I do, may I ask who is calling?” “This is John Will, from the New York Police Department, and I received your phone number from a business card in Mr. Donovan’s wallet.” “Why do you have his wallet?” “What is your relation to Mr. Donovan?” Sloane was startled by this question. “Did something happen to him?” “Ms. Emerson, Mr. Donovan was mugged today, and according to our records he was calling your name, and we got your number from his wallet.” Immediately standing up, she demanded, “Where is he? Can I talk to him?” “I’m afraid that wouldn’t be possible right now --” “Where is he?” she repeated, almost yelling into the phone. After the police officer told her the hospital Carter was at, she gave her home phone number, begging him to call back at this number if there were any changes. When she got off the phone with the New York Police, she ran to the front desk. There was no one left in the office, so no one questioned her frantic search as she rummaged through the files at the front desk to see if the plane was in use this weekend. She found the papers, found it was busy next weekend, but not this weekend. Jim’s number was also on the sheet for her to take. She frantically wrote a note of her using the plane Saturday morning, and left it with the front desk and ran back to her office. She glanced at her watch as she ran back to her office and thought about calling Jim. She looked at her phone. With no blinking lights on the phone for a message, she knew she received no calls while she was at the front of the building getting flight records and Jim’s phone number. She looked at her phone again. It wasn’t ringing. Not knowing if she was waiting there for ten seconds or a half hour, she only knew that she had to see Carter, she had to know if he was okay. The police couldn’t even tell her Carter’s condition because she wasn’t related to him. She looked at Jim’s number on the paper on her desk. She picked up the phone and started dialing. It was 11:03. A woman answered the phone. “Hello? “Hello, I’m sorry for calling so late, I was wondering if Jim was available. “It’s not too late, I’ll get him, but may I ask who is calling? “I’m sorry... This is Sloane Emerson from Madison Pharmaceuticals. “Thank you. Hold on a moment please --” The woman yelled out for Jim before he answered the phone. “Hello? “Jim, I’m sorry to call, this is Sloane from Madison. “Hi.” “Hi... I noticed the plane was open this weekend, and is there any chance we could go in the plane could go to New York as soon as possible? There’s a problem with our book production... “Not a problem -- I can check schedules at airports and make sure there’s enough gas to make it so we could take off early. I’m guessing you would like to get to New York as early as possible?” “Our main contact there has just been injured, and may be severely injured, and he was calling my name. I need to know if he is okay.” “I’ll do everything I can.” “You need to sleep, too, though --” “We’ll have people at the airport in Seattle check out the plane so I can get some sleep. Need a ride to the airport?” “Only if I’m on the way, Jim.” She gave Jim her address and they decided when he would pick her up. She had to interject that this could affect the production of Madison’s book, and this was why she had to get to the hospital. She hoped that explanation was good enough.
When the plane took off she explained to Jim that she had contacted the police department and the hospital to tell them that she would be arriving in New York in the middle of the day and she would be looking for Mr. Donovan. The nurse at the hospital desk told her the room he was in, but that he could not take calls. They also would not tell her his condition. Begging and imploring the police department for help, she just wanted to know if he was okay. She was getting nothing. “I have no idea how he’s going to be, Jim, and I don’t know if you know anyone in New York, but you are more than welcome to come with me while I find out.” “If you don’t mind the company.” “I’d appreciate it, Jim. And -- how much sleep did you get last night?” “Almost six hours.” “Oh, God, I hope that you are okay for flying.” “I’ve been fine on three hours, so don’t worry. Now, do you need anything to rest? You seem really edgy.” “I’m just insanely worried about Carter. I’ll be fine.” “Carter?” “Mr. Donovan; sorry, his first name is Carter. I just need to find out how he is.” “Well, try to sit down and have some rest.” The sitting down part of his advice was all she could take. She worked on her computer, starting on e-mails with Tyler, and informational memos to Kyle, Howard and Ellen. Then she remembered she would have to write something up for Colin, to explain her flight. So on she wrote. When she was exhausted with ideas on the news to Colin, she turned to her research papers, because she couldn’t bear looking at her computer monitor any longer. The remainder of the flight was spent trying to figure out the pieces she may have missed to solving any of her crises with her AIDS research. After calling the police and the hospital from her new cellular phone she arrived at the hospital with Jim. The police told her that they would be there to talk to her when she arrived. Hospital attendants directed her to Carter’s room. She stopped before going into the room, turned to face Jim and said, “I need a breath before I find out.” “People at the front desk can tell you before you go to the room.” “Yeah ... I need to know what I should be ready for.” Asking about Carter Donovan, they told her that he was hit while walking outside at night. He was drifting in and out of consciousness when the paramedics got to him last night, but he seems to be doing better now. They also told her that the police were here, if she needed to talk to them. As she turned around, there were two cops standing right in front of her. “Ms. Emerson?” The first officer asked. “Yes, I--” “We’re here to let you know what happened” and the rest of the sentence was lost to her. She didn’t even catch their names. She asked to see Carter immediately, alone. They all walked to the doors and Jim pulled the door open for her. She stepped inside. Carter sat there, eyes wide open, as she walked across the room to his side. She had no emotion on her face at all; she looked as if she were an investigator trying to solve a case and that she had no personal relationship with the subject matter. She sat down and took his hand. “What happened to you.” She made a point to state her question as if it were a command, and that she would get and answer for it. Both Carter and Sloane knew there was no other way she could find any information out. “The police can tell you, angel.” “I want you to tell me. And don’t forget any details.” “Okay... I was walking along 57th, just along the park edge, and I heard a scream, and --” “What kind of scream.” “Uh... A woman’s scream. So I called out for anyone, and I got no response. I called a few more times, and heard nothing. Then I thought I heard another scream, but I’m not sure. There weren’t even any cars on the street, and ... I don’t know if this matters, but I remember thinking that I didn’t even hear birds, or cars, or wind. It was totally silent.” “Then...” “I thought that a woman could have been attacked in the park, and I thought that so many lights were out along the walkway there, but I went in. And --” “How far did you walk in.” “Oh, God, probably 50 feet. Then I just felt something hit my head.” “What was the ’something’.” “Um... It was a blunt object, someone swung it, I guess.” “Was it like a stick, or a rock.” “Like a big piece of wood, I guess.” “You didn’t hear anyone come up.” “No. But that is all that happened. And you’re spooking me by asking all these questions like an FBI agent.” “I’m looking for the truth, Carter. And I won’t ask in that tone again.” Sloane waited briefly, but had to speak again. “How do you feel?” Carter started to smile. “My head hurts, but I’m okay. How did you find out about this?” “The police found my number in your wallet and called me. They even said you called my name.” “I did that?” “Do you remember being in the ambulance?” Sloane waited for his response. “It’s hard, but I remember the guys around me. I don’t remember much of what they were saying... I think it was medical talk.” “Probably... But I’m glad they got to you and that you’re okay, Carter.” “I can’t believe you came out here so quickly to see me...” “They wouldn’t even tell me your condition, so I had to be here to find out -- or wait until Monday and call Quentin. Hey -- do they even know at Quentin?” Carter groaned when he was forced to think about it. “No one there knows”, he said, “but hopefully they won’t bother trying to have a work party or give me a fruit basket or anything stupid like that...” making her laugh. They talked about other details when she eventually said she had to go talk to the policemen in the hall, and that she would be back. She walked out the door and Jim was standing there with the two policemen. She looked up at Jim and could tell from his face that the policemen told him nothing about Carter, so Sloane immediately asked, “So give me details. What happened to him?” The policemen pretty much told her the same story from their perspective about what happened to Carter the night before. “The one thing that was strange, though,” the policeman John said, “is that there was a needle right by his body. The hospital is doing a drug toxicology screen on him, and he wasn’t diabetic, so we’re guessing it was the assailant’s.” “You’re sure it was from Carter’s attack?” She asked. The John nodded yes to answer her question. Her eyes turned to saucers again and she stopped before coming up with the next sentence to speak. She was probably jumping to conclusions with no merit in her head, but she had to regain herself emotionally before she could ask. “We need to have him tested for HIV, even the dermis and epidermis where the puncture mark on his body is, because AIDS may not show up on blood immediately after he’s infected. We also need to test if there was any of the virus in that needle. Who still has the needle -- the police or the doctors?” “The hospital does, Ms. Emerson, but --” Sloane walked away and went straight to the nurse’s station so that tests could immediately be done on both Carter and the needle. At this point, all she could do was stay in Carter’s room with him until a lab technician found her. They told her that her suspicions were confirmed on Mr. Donovan’s blood and on the needle found at the scene. She knew this was their way of telling Sloane the news without bluntly telling Carter. Sloane leaned back in her chair, while still holding on to Carter’s hand. She knew what they did to her, and the police had already found that there were no prints on the needle before handing it over to the hospital for testing that morning. “Was this my punishment?” she thought as she tried to remain happy-looking for Carter. “Are they punishing him for my crimes?” she thought again. She thought she would wait for a bit until it was necessary to tell Carter, so that he could have these moments where he felt like he was getting better.
Click here for Chapter 14 of The Key To Believing
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portions of this book are in the following books:
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