Chapter 5
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Sam was no closer to finding anything. If it was possible he had
actually taken a step back. Work was piled upon him. By eleven
he’d been thrown so many patients he’d lost count
somewhere in the middle. In between charts, he spent his time on
the phone, calling hotels, describing Cara to the last detail, in
hopes of finding at least where she had came from. He had found
nothing there, either.
To make matters worse, his headache had gotten worse, and he had
to blink to see things in front of him clearly. He needed sleep,
but that came a close second to a piece of mind. Christine was
safe; Scott wasn’t. In just a few hours, Cara Stevens would
shot her own husband. And he had no clue why.
"Nothing, Sam. Cara pleaded guilty. Broke down really. The
papers tell no story of why she did it. She just shut herself
off. Christine moved in with Scott’s parents where she still
is in my time." Al’s words did nothing.
"No reason. She didn’t give a motive?" He looked
down at the coffee in the bottom of his cup.
"None. Guilty, Sam. You plead that, and they don’t care
if voices in your head told you to do it. Ziggy did discover that
her attorney wanted her to plead insane. There are some medical
records from early ’89 that prove she wasn’t quite
‘all there.’"
Sam sighed, but then looked up, realizing something from
Al’s words. "’89? She was still married to Scott
at that point." The wheels in his head were turning.
"The pictures, Al, they were always happy. Maybe those
medical records are the key. Maybe they are part of the reason
she walked out."
"Maybe," Al agreed. "But right now, Linda is on
her way to this hospital bringing Christine with her. And that
means that Cara isn’t far behind."
"Right," he said, getting up out of his chair. One
glance at his watch told him it was 1:34 p.m. "Al, at what
time was Scott shot?"
Al punched a button on the handlink. "3:29 p.m."
"I need to know why she’s mad at me or I’m never
going to get through to her. How’s Scott?"
"Better. But I don’t how much he’s gonna
remember."
"Well, we just have to hope he’ll remember what I need.
Or at least something I can work with."
****************
"Cara? What went wrong between Cara and I? Nothing, Admiral.
We were happy." His brow furrowed. "I think." His
last words sounded unsure.
"It’s important," Al stressed, hoping to get
something from this man. He was lucky he was even to get in to
speak to Scott, Verbena had been against it. Scott was still ill,
and he didn’t need to be interrogated. "What about
1989? Medical records?"
Suddenly Scott’s eyes turned a little angry. "Where did
you hear about those records? They’re private." He shot
up in the bed, pulling on the IV line. Al knew he was going to
have to try a new approach.
"Cara’s coming back, Scott," he tried and it
seemed to work.
"Cara? Coming back?" He shook his head. "You
-someone-, I can’t remember, told me that Dr. Beckett
was," he strained to remember, "taking my place to
correct something that went wrong. What does it have to do with
Cara? She’s gone. She picked and left. I may not remember my
social security number, but I remember what happened with
Cara."
"What did happen?"
"Nothing," Scott insisted, though this time his words
weren’t as strong. "I didn’t do anything. I loved
her. I still love her. Cara, well, I know she felt the same, but
it was different." He paused and for a second Al was afraid
that he wouldn’t. "She had a hard time getting over
anything. She got angry a lot. She was . . . bitter. Is she going
to try something?" Al didn’t answer. "It
wouldn’t surprise me. She was a housewife. She didn’t
work. She told me it didn’t bother her, but I always felt
like she hid it. Like she hated me for going to school and for
going to work." He shook his head. "I can’t
remember anything else." He looked up at Al. "I loved
her, but it seemed no matter what, we weren’t what some
would call ‘meant to be.’ Like every time we tried to
look past her problem, it didn’t get anywhere. Love
wasn’t strong enough." He paused again. "Are you
married?"
"Yeah," Al replied. "Thirty-nine years."
He saw Scott smile. "Well, then maybe you don’t know
about trying to achieve the ‘meant to be’ status."
"Maybe not," Al answered, Scott’s words ringing in
his head. Somehow he did know how it felt, but he didn’t
know how.