Duplicity, page 16
Doyle turned in Brick’s direction. “The circumstances sucked, but it was great meeting you.” He handed Brick one of his business cards. “Just so you know, the Maryland State Police are hiring, and experienced investigators have a leg up.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” Brick’s response was his tactful way of saying he wasn’t interested. State police officers had to spend way too much time in their cars for the job to ever appeal to him.
While they waited for an update on the condition of Jasmine and the twins, Brick felt the pins and needles sensation of his left foot falling asleep. He walked to the end of the hallway and took in the view of downtown Baltimore. Seeing the warehouse of Camden Yards reminded him of the games he had attended there. The one that immediately came to mind, the Mariners at the Orioles on September 1, 2001, and one of the last chances to see Cal Ripken play. Tickets were hard to get and expensive, but he and his baseball buddy, an Army major assigned to the Pentagon, weren’t going to be denied. Ten days later, the major was a statistic. Brick turned away from the window and saw a short, bearded, white-coated man heading toward the lounge. He followed behind.
“I’m Dr. Singh.” He shook hands with Ron and Brick before taking a seat. He set a laptop on the end table and looked directly at Ron. “Both babies have been evaluated by Pediatrics and appear to be doing well. Out of an abundance of caution, we’re keeping them on an overnight observation, but all indicators are they’ll be ready to go home tomorrow, or I guess I should say, later today. Any questions?”
Brick could see Ron’s shoulders relax before he responded. “No, that’s good news.”
Dr. Singh checked his computer before continuing. “Regarding Mrs. Hayes—her vital signs are normal. She is currently being given an IV for dehydration. There are obvious indicators of substance abuse—bloodshot eyes, dilated pupils, slurred speech, drowsiness. We’re running a tox screen and should have results soon. Does she have a history of alcohol or drug abuse?”
Ron shook his head. “No, absolutely not. Before she was pregnant, she might have a gin and tonic or a margarita when we went out. Occasionally, a glass of wine with dinner, but never more than one drink. While she was pregnant and since the twins were born, she doesn’t even drink coffee or anything else with caffeine.”
“What about any prescription or over-the-counter drugs?”
“Tylenol and Benadryl, but only when necessary.”
“Understood.” Dr. Singh typed a few notes before continuing. “When were the twins born?”
“Six months ago.”
“Any complications during her pregnancy?”
“Not really, although the last four or five weeks she was on bed rest.”
“And the twins were delivered by C-section?”
“Right.”
“Has she had any postpartum health issues?”
“Depression. That’s why she was seeing a psychologist, Lynn Reznick.”
“I’m sure our team will want to speak with her.”
“Can’t. She committed suicide tonight.”
“Excuse me?” Dr. Singh looked from Ron to Brick. “Are you saying Jasmine’s therapist killed herself?”
“Yes.” Ron deferred to Brick to explain while he used the men’s room. A few minutes later, he returned.
Dr. Singh shook his head. “I’ve got to say, I’m stunned.” He leaned forward in Ron’s direction. “What I can tell you, we have a very experienced team of professionals trained to deal with post-traumatic stress disorders. Your wife will be evaluated and provided the best care available.”
“I hope so. Can I see her?”
“She was agitated earlier but is resting comfortably now. It would be better if you wait until later today. If you haven’t done so already, just leave your contact information at the nurses’ station. If anything changes, we’ll notify you immediately.” Dr. Singh stood and shook hands with Ron and Brick. “Try to get some rest. I’ll meet with you again this afternoon.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
IT WAS AFTER ten when Brick staggered out to the kitchen. Six hours of sleep was usually enough for him. Not this morning. Six hours felt more like six minutes. He yawned and rubbed his eyes before dropping a bagel into the toaster and heating water for tea. From the den came the sound of snoring. Deep, sonorous sounds that could easily match the decibels generated by a chainsaw. No surprise, it was probably the best sleep Ron had gotten since Jasmine went missing. Knowing that his wife and twins were alive and being cared for in a safe place seemed to be more effective than a double dose of Ambien.
Brick brewed and drank a second cup of strong Irish breakfast tea before taking a shower. Slowly, he was beginning to feel more alert. As he finished shaving, he heard Ron’s cell phone ringtone. A few minutes later, Ron came out of the den with a broad smile on his face.
“That was the hospital. The twins will be ready to come home this afternoon. And Dr. Singh will meet with me at three.”
“Good news.”
“Yeah, it is except I’m worried about Jasmine and I will be until she’s home, too.” Ron took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “At least it’s a start.”
Despite Ron’s relief, Brick sensed he was feeling a little overwhelmed. He had no doubt Ron was capable of taking care of his kids on his own, but sometimes moral support isn’t enough and this felt like one of those times. “Are you going to need help getting the twins?”
Ron shrugged. “I got this, but if you’re volunteering …”
Brick nodded. “I am.”
“Thanks, bro.” Ron smiled but at the same time wiped away a tear before closing the bathroom door.
After a stop at a nearby Target to buy two infant car seats, Brick and Ron drove to Baltimore. It was just after noon and with a couple of hours before the appointment with Dr. Singh, there was plenty of time for lunch at the Inner Harbor. A choice between the Hard Rock Café or Phillips Seafood Restaurant was a no-brainer. A hostess led Brick and Ron to a table at Phillips overlooking the harbor. They both ordered the Hooper Island crab cake sandwich.
“Jasmine loves the Inner Harbor. We’ve been here lots of times.” Ron leaned back in his chair. “Except for our honeymoon, when we first got married, we couldn’t afford a real vacation, so we’d come to Baltimore for the weekend. Then it kind of became our anniversary destination.”
“Nice.”
Ron smiled mischievously. “Last anniversary, we stayed at one of those boutique-style hotels in Fells Point. Jasmine picked it out because they had a special romantic getaway package. Nine months later … twins.” He took a sip of iced tea. Ron’s smile faded, replaced by a somber expression. “Right now, I’ve got so many what if thoughts running through my head.”
“Those will drive you crazy, Ron.”
“I know, but I can’t help thinking about what if you and I had gotten to my house a few minutes earlier or later, everything could have been different.” Ron knitted his brow as he continued. “It’s kind of like in the O.J. case. If Nicole’s mother hadn’t left her sunglasses at the restaurant, maybe Nicole and Ron Goldman would be alive today.”
Brick understood Ron’s thought processing. “Yeah, like the old saying, hindsight is 20-20. A seemingly insignificant event set off a series of actions like dominoes toppling one by one.”
“Right. Had it not been for the fender bender causing the traffic backup, we wouldn’t have seen Reznick walking into my house.”
“But if we had gotten there sooner, we might have been inside the house and if she had the gun …”
“Well, there is that. And if you hadn’t talked me out of approaching the bungalow in Jessup, I might have been the one taking the bullet.”
“In a tee shirt, not a vest. Let it go, Ron. Don’t waste energy thinking about all the scenarios that might have been. Save your energy for dealing with what actually happened. That’s a big enough assignment.”
The waiter’s arrival with the sandwiches was well timed. Other than a few comments on the crab cakes, conversation ceased while Brick and Ron ate their lunch. Ron finished first. He wiped his hands and dropped the napkin on his empty plate.
“Brick, did you ever think I might be responsible for their disappearance?”
The question was unexpected and Brick took a minute to think about what he wanted to say. “You know the statistics as well as I do. Just because I’m retired doesn’t mean I don’t still think like a cop. But I also had the advantage of knowing you and that erased most doubts. I know how much Jasmine and the twins mean to you.”
“It’s true. They mean the world to me, but I haven’t been the husband or father they deserve.” Ron shifted in his chair. “When I got so angry because I thought Jasmine had run off with Marcus, I was actually angry with myself. If she had, it was my fault.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s hard for me to admit this, but I’ve felt ignored since the twins were taking up all of Jasmine’s attention. And I should have been helping out a lot more at home, but instead I was spending extra time at work.”
“Because of Holly?”
Ron picked at a hangnail on his left thumb. “Did I find Holly attractive? Yes. Did I cheat on Jasmine? No. If circumstances were different, could things have gotten … out of hand? Maybe.”
“Sounds like you just cross-examined yourself.”
“Yeah, well I needed to do some introspection and finally be honest with myself. Looking back, I was kind of a dick.”
“Kind of?”
“Okay, I was a dick.” Ron looked up and made eye contact with Brick. “I can always count on you to not cut me any slack.”
Brick raised his glass of iced tea in Ron’s direction. “That’s what friends are for. So, what are you going to do differently now?”
Ron didn’t hesitate. “Not squander a second chance to be the husband and father I should have been from the start. I just pray Jasmine gives me that chance.”
Brick recognized Ron’s need to say out loud the things he had been thinking in order to atone for his shortcomings and validate his intentions. He respected his courage for doing so. The mood lightened as they left the restaurant and stopped at Crabby Jack’s General Store. They left with two small stuffed teddy bears dressed in Orioles uniforms.
When Brick and Ron arrived at Johns Hopkins, they retraced last night’s route and checked in at the nurses’ station. They were directed to the same waiting lounge where they had been hours before. Within a few minutes, Dr. Singh joined them.
“First things first,” the doctor said. “The twins are doing fine and charming the nurses.” He pointed toward the infant car seats. “I see you’re prepared to take them home.”
“I am,” Ron said. “I just wish their mother was going home, too.”
“Understood.” Dr. Singh glanced at notes on his clipboard. “Her condition is stable, but we detected a high level of antidepressants in her system. Of course, we don’t know conclusively if she took them voluntarily or was drugged, but based on what you’ve told me, it probably wasn’t her choice. Be that as it may, we need to get her off the meds but stopping suddenly is problematic. We need to do it gradually.”
“How long will it take?” Ron asked.
“Every patient is different, but given the type of drug and in a clinical setting, in most cases, five to seven days.”
“Can I see her?” Ron’s voice cracked as he asked the question.
“Yes. Right now, she’s sedated because she was experiencing some hallucinations.”
“What? That sounds serious.”
“It’s a common reaction and not unexpected given the circumstances. Even though it’s unlikely she’ll be aware of you being there, it’s possible she may be, so keep that in mind if you say anything.”
While Brick waited for Ron to return, his thoughts turned to the Yang case. Soon, he’d be able to shift gears and focus on it full-time. Why had Blancato told Fred Stewart to deep-six it? Until that question was answered, it would bug the hell out of him. Yeah, it was personal given their history—everything involving Blancato was. And what was up with those spreadsheets on the thumb drive? They must have meant something to Henry Yang, but what? Hopefully, Grace Alexander would have a clue.
About twenty minutes had passed when Ron and Dr. Singh returned. Brick immediately noticed Ron’s arms and legs swaying slightly as he entered the lounge. A quick thumbs-up from Ron indicated he was reassured by what he had seen.
They each picked up a car seat and followed Dr. Singh to Pediatrics.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
ALTHOUGH RON HAD driven them to Baltimore, for the return to D.C. he was comfortably sitting in the back seat between Jayla blowing spit bubbles and a sleeping Jamal. As Brick exited the hospital parking garage, he glanced up at Ron’s reflection in the rearview mirror. From the look on his face, there was no place on earth where he would rather be. Brick didn’t quite share that sentiment. He was happy to help out, but the forty-five-minute trip seemed twice as long when Jayla started crying, woke Jamal, and the two engaged in what seemed like a contest to see who could cry the loudest and the longest. If asked to judge, Brick would declare it a tie.
With about five miles to go, both babies fell asleep and Brick could gratefully hear himself think when he turned onto the street where Ron lived. So much had happened in just over twenty-four hours since they were last here. With Lynn Reznick committing suicide, would they ever know why she had been inside the house. And considering Jasmine’s condition, would she be able to explain or even remember what had happened during the time she was gone. At least for now, he’d shelve those thoughts for a more pressing concern. A news van from the Fox affiliate was parked across the street from Ron’s house.
“Looks like you have company, Ron.”
“Yeah, I see them … vultures. I don’t want my kids on the news. Drive around the block and we’ll go in the back way.”
Brick wasn’t sure the diversionary tactic would work but it was worth a try. Even though the twins were probably too young to be traumatized by what they had been through, protecting them at the moment was a priority Brick shared with Ron. He parked behind a shed at the end of Ron’s property and looked around. So far, so good. Unless a reporter was hiding in the bushes, they were home free. As quickly as they could, Brick and Ron got the babies out of the car and into the house. Brick breathed a sigh of relief as he set down the baby carrier with a still sleeping Jamal. Ron was in charge of an animated Jayla.
To say that Brick’s experience with babies was limited implied he had more experience than was the case. Without kids of his own or nieces and nephews, until six months ago he couldn’t recall holding a baby. That changed when Ron’s twins were born. And now, despite his novice status, even he could tell one of them was in serious need of a diaper change.
“Whoa.” Ron waved his hand in front of his face to clear the air. “Can you keep an eye on Jamal while I take Jayla upstairs?”
“Sure.” As if on cue, the moment Ron left the kitchen, Jamal woke up and started to howl. Brick picked him up and paced around the room making what he hoped were reassuring shushing noises. Apparently, Jamal didn’t find them very comforting. Brick was about to try singing but was spared the effort when Ron returned with a smiling Jayla in his arms. As they traded babies, Brick got a whiff that smelled like lavender, a definite improvement.
“Got the feeling we’re like a tag team,” Brick said.
“Seriously, feel like I need four hands. I don’t know how Jasmine does it.”
“I do—women are the more evolved gender.”
Ron nodded. “Did you hear that, Jayla? No pressure, but we’re counting on you.”
It still seemed the news crew parked across the street wasn’t aware that anyone was inside the house. That would probably change. It was either take the risk and reveal their presence or stumble around preparing formula in the dark. Ron turned on the kitchen light and almost immediately, there was a knock at the door. They ignored it at first, but the knocking continued, louder and more insistent.
“I don’t want to talk to them, but they’re probably not going away.”
Brick handed Jayla back to Ron. “I’ll take one for the team.”
“Thanks, bro.”
Before opening the door, Brick looked out the small window in the door. As far as he could tell the woman was alone, but it was possible someone with a camera was lurking in the corner of the porch. He opened the door a crack, confirmed she was working solo, and stepped outside.
“May I help you?” Brick asked.
The well-dressed reporter in heavy makeup seemed slightly confused. “Is this the Hayes home?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, good. I’m in the right place. I’m Stella Owen.” She shook hands with Brick and paused as if expecting a reaction.
Brick didn’t let on he knew who she was as he shook her hand.
“I’m the host of And Justice For All on the Fox station.” Another pause, as if giving him a second opportunity to acknowledge her.
Brick responded with a shoulder shrug. “Okay?”
“And who are you?”
“Brian Kavanagh.”
“What is your connection to the Hayes family?”
“Friend.”
“Whatever.” To Brick’s ears, it sounded as though Stella wasn’t happy to be speaking with someone other than Ron. Maybe her attitude was a slip. When she continued, her television personality seemed to emerge. She smiled and stepped a little closer. “I’m sure you’re aware I’ve been following this story very closely. I know my viewers are so excited that Jasmine and those two precious babies have been found. I can only imagine that Detective Hayes is over the moon. An interview with him holding the twins would be so heart-warming.”
Brick was so tempted to say, “Bitch, please, give me a break. A few days ago, you as much as accused Ron of being responsible for the disappearance of his family.” Instead, he took the high road. “I’m sure you can appreciate this has been very traumatic and the family needs privacy at this time.”
