Kim drove like a madman out to Prairie Highway. Lucky for him, he encountered no police cruisers. When he turned into the Onion Ring parking lot he was going fast enough to bottom out just as he had on his previous visit. The car bounced violently until he brought it to a screeching stop directly in front of the busy restaurant. Yanking on the emergency brake, he made the motions to get out. Then he hesitated. A glimmer of rationality seeped into the corners of his emotionally overloaded brain. The Saturday afternoon crowd enjoying their burgers, milkshakes, and fries and oblivious to his psychic pain yanked him back to reality.
Kim had raced to the Onion Ring in search of a scapegoat. But now that he was there, he didn't get out of the car.
Instead he raised his right hand and stared at it. Seeing his daughter's dark, dried blood confirmed the awful reality: Becky was dead. And he hadn't been able to do a thing to save her. He began to sob. All he could do was drape himself helplessly over the steering wheel.
Tracy shook her head in disbelief of everything that had happened. She ran her hand through her tangled hair as Marsha Baldwin patted her shoulder. On top of everything else, it was hard to believe she was being consoled by a stranger.
Tracy had responded the opposite of Kim. Instead of flying off in a blind rage, she'd found herself paralyzed, unable to even cry.
Right after Kim's precipitous departure, Claire and Kathleen had accompanied Tracy to the ICU waiting room. Marsha had followed although at the time Tracy was unaware of her presence. Claire and Kathleen had stayed with Tracy for some time to offer their sympathies and to explain what had happened. They had spared no details in response to Tracy 's questions, including how the E. coli toxin had obviously attacked both Becky's heart muscle as well as her pericardium, the covering around the heart.
Claire and Kathleen had offered to help get Tracy home, but Tracy had told them that she had her car and that she'd be all right to drive. It wasn't until the two doctors had left that Tracy realized that Marsha was still there, and the two women had begun a long conversation.
"I want to thank you for staying here all this time." Tracy said. "You've been a wonderful support. I hope I haven't bored you with all these Becky stories."
"She sounds like she was a wonderful child."
"The best." Tracy said wistfully. Then she took a fortifying breath and sat up straight in her chair. The two women were sitting in the far corner of the room by the window where they'd pulled two chairs close together. Outside the long shadows of a late, wintery afternoon crept ever eastward.
"You know," Tracy said. "We've been talking all this time and haven't mentioned my ex-husband, the man who's responsible for your being here."
Marsha nodded.
"Life is full of surprises," Tracy said with a sigh. "Here I lose my beloved daughter who was the center of my life, and I surprise myself by worrying about him. I just hope Becky's passing doesn't drive him over the edge."
"What do you mean?" Marsha asked.
"I'm not sure," Tracy admitted. "I guess I'm terrified at what he might do. He's already been arrested for assaulting the manager at the restaurant where he suspects Becky got sick. I just hope he doesn't do something really crazy and end up hurting someone or himself."
"He does seem angry," Marsha said.
"That's putting it mildly," Tracy said. "He was always such a perfectionist. It used to be his anger was directed mostly toward himself. It served as a stimulus for achievement, but that's been changing over the last few years. It's a big reason why we ended up divorcing."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Marsha said.
"He is basically a good man," Tracy said. "Egotistical and self-centered, but still a very good doctor. Certainly one of the best surgeons in his field."
"I'm not surprised," Marsha said. "One of the things that impressed me about him was that in the middle of all this he was still thinking about other children."
"How do you feel about helping him after what you've seen here this afternoon?" Tracy asked. "It would be wonderful if he could channel his anger about Becky in some positive direction."
"I'd like to help very much," Marsha said. "But I guess he scared me. I don't know him the way you do, it's hard to put his actions in any perspective."
"I understand." Tracy said. "But I hope you'll consider it. I'll give you his address. Knowing him as well as I do, I'm sure he'll hole up there until his anger and sense of injustice drive him out to do something. All I can hope is that with your help his energies can be channeled into action that will make a difference."
Marsha climbed into her car. She didn't start it immediately but mulled over the events of this strange day. It had all started when she'd impulsively decided to put in a few hours of overtime at Mercer Meats.
Marsha wondered how to go about getting the information that Kim wanted. The source of meat for the various lots was recorded in the patty-room logs, but reading specific entries was not within her usual province. Her job was just to confirm that the log was being kept. Knowing that someone was always looking over her shoulder, she wondered how she could do it without raising suspicion. The problem was she didn't want her own boss to know what she was up to, and that would be tricky since Mercer Meats was in close contact with her superiors concerning everything she did.
The answer was obvious. She'd go after hours when only the cleaning crew was there. In fact, Saturday was an ideal day for her to try; it would be quieter than usual.
Marsha got out the address Tracy had given her and consulted the city map she had in the car. Kim's house was relatively close; she decided to pay him a visit to see if he was still interested in her help.
It didn't take long for Marsha to find the property, but when she arrived, she was dismayed there wasn't a single light to counteract the gathering gloom. The house was a huge black hulk silhouetted in its dense surround of trees.
Marsha was about to leave, when she caught sight of Kim's car parked in the dark shadows in front of the garage. She decided to get out of her car and go to the front door on the off chance he was there.
Marsha rang the bell. She was surprised at the loudness and clarity of the chimes until she noticed that the front door was not fully closed. When Kim didn't respond to the bell, she rang it again. Again there was no response…
Mystified and concerned by the door being ajar in the middle of the winter, Marsha took a chance and pushed it open farther. She leaned into the front hall and called out Kim's name. There was no answer.
From where she was standing, Marsha's eyes adapted so she could see up the staircase, as well as through the dining room and all the way to the kitchen. She called Kim's name again but again there was no response.
Unsure what to do next, Marsha thought about leaving. But then Tracy 's comment about Kim possibly hurting himself came into her mind. She wondered if she should call the police, but that seemed a fairly extreme action to take based on so little evidence. She decided to probe further before deciding what to do.
Marshaling her courage. Marsha stepped into the foyer, intending to go to the base of the stairs. But she didn't get far. Halfway across the hall she stopped dead in her tracks. Kim was sitting in a club chair in an otherwise empty room less than ten feet away. He looked like a specter in the half darkness. His white doctor's coat appeared to glow like the radium dial of an old wristwatch.
"My God!" Marsha exclaimed. "You scared me!"
Kim didn't respond. He didn't even move.
"Dr. Reggis?" Marsha questioned. For a fleeting moment she wondered if he was dead.
"What do you want?" Kim asked in a tired monotone.
"Maybe I shouldn't have come. I just wanted to offer my help."
"And just how do you plan to help?"