Below is the end of Chapter Thirty-three. Go here to read the chapter in its entirety. Go here to read Dead Ringer from the beginning.
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FROM CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
With my eyes shut, I pictured Fred and I sitting together under a beautiful, flowering tree, with a soft breeze brushing our cheeks and sunlight glinting between the leaves. I imagined both of us calm. I heard the words between us being delivered with slow, careful kindness.
Just then the intercom on my phone buzzed, jolting me out of my small oasis of peace. “Fred will see you now,” Mavis announced.
I stood. “Okay. Here we go,” I said out loud and walked out of my office and past Mavis’s desk, into Fred’s office and toward the point of no return, with no idea what my life would be like on the other side of all my confessions, only that so many things would never be the same again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Fred sat forward with his elbows on his oak desk and gestured with a nod of his head. “Have a seat.” His gray hair was damp, and he smelled of soap and aftershave. “Just finished a round of golf. I played badly,” he said. “Bring me up to speed, will you?”
“First of all, how is Maxine?” I asked, genuinely hoping for some good news which I hoped would act as a cushion against the shitstorm I was bringing him. Also, I genuinely liked his wife and wanted her to beat this cancer. Maybe it was a little bit manipulative. I’m no saint.
He shook his head in response to my question. “No real change. We’re taking it day by day.”
I nodded. “Well, please let her know I’m thinking of her.”
“Will do,” he said. “So. How have things been?”
I took a deep breath and plunged in, telling him first about my interaction with Benny and that I’d kicked him out of the internship program. Fred was quiet for a moment, looking down at his desk, working his mouth a little while I emphasized that the nurse likely had cause to go right to Human Resources and file a sexual harassment complaint. I didn't mention I was the one who’d suggested it.
“I’m sure it’s not the first time,” I said. “Mavis told me his penchant for hanging out in that lounge is pretty well known. It’s predatory behavior. And besides that, he’s been a constant no-show, skipping our meetings and disappearing when he’s on call.”
“Okay.” He nodded. “Okay. I’ll deal with any fallout. You did the right thing.”
“Thank you, Fred, for having my back on this. I don’t know what the big connections are to St. Regis, but he’s been a disaster from the beginning.”
“Write it all up, please, so I have the documentation.”
“Already done,” I said. “Except for this last thing.”
“Okay. What else? How are things with you and Mavis? Working out okay?”
“We’re fine. Grateful for your words of wisdom there. Oh, did she tell you about Nora Malone?”
“She did. Just terrible. Thanks for going to see her. What’s the prognosis?”
“I think it will be a miracle if she survives,” I said.
“Well, if we don’t believe in miracles, I guess we should go find another job, right?”
I nodded. By the end of this meeting, that’s likely what I’d be doing.
“How about scheduling? How’s that been working out?”
“It’s taken a good deal of juggling,” I said. “Pretty steep learning curve with the software, but Mavis has helped with that. With the three part-time chaplains and me, we’ve easily been able to cover all the shifts.” I didn’t say that her helping was accompanied by a lot of impatient sighing on her part and a good deal of complaining on mine.
“Good to hear,” he said. “Anything else?”
I’d stalled long enough. Here we go. “Fred, there is something else I need to talk to you about, and when you hear the whole story you may want to hand me my walking papers.”
At that he leaned forward, training his eyes on me. “Blainey, you’re alarming me. What’s going on?”
I plunged in, confessing my work with Omega Investigations, trying to explain, but even as I heard the words coming out of my mouth, I sounded crazy to myself. At one point in my narrative, Fred closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if listening more carefully would alter in some way the story I was laying out. Then I got to the part about Rachel Roper.
“So, last Tuesday I was paged to speak with a woman in the ER. She said she knew me from high school, that’s why she asked for me. Apparently, when she’d learned she was pregnant at fifteen, I'd been a supportive ear or something, I have no memory of it. Her mother had moved her down from somewhere in upstate New York. Mom was a rich pill-popper.”
“Go on.” A flush had crept over Fred’s face, and he looked at me with narrowed eyes. I was in for it now, and deservedly so.
“Anyway, Rachel said her mother had convinced her to relinquish her baby. She came back to Brady to look for her daughter, who would be in her early twenties now.”
“And?”
“And I offered to help her. Well, actually I offered Omega Investigation’s services, because she was so distraught and…I thought…I guess I thought…but now she’s dead, someone killed her with a lethal dose of fentanyl…” The words were pouring out in an uneven torrent that I knew made little sense.
Fred’s mouth was a thin, hard line, and a fury radiated from him that nearly knocked me off my chair. His voice was even but razor-wire taut. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“I’m sorry, Fred, I’m so sorry.” My voice shook and in spite of a concerted effort to hold them back, my eyes filled with tears. “I know I’ve betrayed you and this office and everything we stand for. Crossing that line was a terrible lapse in judgment.”
“I’m beyond disappointed. I’m shocked and angry, yes, but even more, you’ve exposed this office and this hospital to legal issues…”
“I understand.”
“Do you? It’s not just your ass on the line.”
“There’s more,” I said. “You need to hear the rest of it.”
Even though Fred was not the kind of guy who would ever use the ‘F’ word, he shot me a look that clearly said “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and told him about running into Mandy Wytheman at Duke, about my certainty that she was Rachel’s daughter, and my belief that Miller not only was the father but was the most likely person to have killed Rachel. Miller had everything to lose if the truth came out that he’d raped and impregnated a fifteen-year-old girl, then secretly adopted the baby. I knew Miller’s capacity for self-preservation. I believed he was capable of all of it.
“It’s awful, I know. I’m so sorry to hand all this to you. I felt I should tell you, because he has privileges here.”
“Who else have you talked to about this?” he asked.
I realized I’d left out the parts about Detective Chad Miller and my run-ins with Lamar Gustafson and being escorted out of WindDancer by security. I hadn’t mentioned involving Cathy Stearnes or Mark’s attorney Elizabeth Walker. And I certainly didn’t disclose I was working for Rachel’s brother Weston.
“No one,” I said. “I came to you first with these suspicions about Miller.” That was true. I hoped he wouldn’t press for more.
The silence that grew between us felt dangerous, explosive. Finally, Fred stood up, and I followed his cue that our meeting was concluded. “Your district supervisor in Pennsylvania told me you’d be trouble. I see I should have listened to her,” he said.
It was a sucker punch to the gut, and he knew it. It was devastating to hear that a woman I’d always thought of as a friend and colleague held me in such low esteem.
The beautiful imaginary flowering tree I’d envisioned Fred and I sitting under as I prepped for this meeting turned to ashes and collapsed on top of me in a heavy heap. “You’ll have my letter of resignation by the end of the day. I hope you can forgive me. You’ve been nothing but welcoming and supportive, and I’ve deceived you and let you down.”
“I think it’s best if you collect your things and leave now,” he said, and with that I was dismissed.