Mortal Fear

CHAPTER 13

Awakening with a start, Jason checked his watch, which said five A.M. That meant eight in Boston, the time he usually left for the hospital. He opened the drapes and looked out on a crystal-clear day. In the distance a ferry was making its way across Puget Sound toward Seattle, leaving a sparkling wake.

After showering, Jason knocked on the adjoining door. There was no answer. He knocked again. Finally he opened it a crack, allowing a swath of bright sunlight to fall into the cool, darkened room. Carol was still fast asleep, clutching her pillow. Jason watched her for a moment. She looked angelically lovely. Silently, he closed the door so as to not waken her.

He went back to his bed, dialed room service, and ordered fresh orange juice, coffee, and croissants for two. Then he called GHP and paged Roger Wanamaker.

“Everything okay?”

“Not quite,” Roger admitted. “Marge Todd threw a big embolus last night. She went into a coma and died. Respiratory arrest.”

“My God,” Jason said.

“Sorry to be the bearer of sad tidings,” Roger said. “Try to enjoy yourself.”

“I’ll give you a call in a day or so,” Jason said.

Another death. Except for one young woman with hepatitis, he was beginning to think the only way his patients could leave the hospital was feetfirst. He wondered if he should fly directly back to Boston. Yet Roger was right. There was nothing he could do, and he might as well see the Hayes business through, even though he wasn’t very optimistic.

Two hours later Carol knocked at the door and came in, her hair still wet from the shower. “Top of the morning,” she said in her cheerful voice. Jason ordered fresh coffee.

“Guess we’re lucky,” he said, pointing out at the bright sunlight.

“Don’t be so sure. The weather around here can change mighty quickly.”

While Carol breakfasted, Jason had another cup of coffee.

“Hope I didn’t talk your ear off last night,” Carol said.

“Don’t be silly. I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“What about you, doctor?” Carol asked, putting jam on a croissant. “You haven’t told me much about yourself.” She didn’t mention that Hayes had told her a good deal about him.

“Not much to tell.”

Carol raised her eyebrows. When she saw his smile, she laughed. “For a second I thought you were serious.”

Jason told. Carol about his boyhood in Los Angeles, his education at Berkeley and Harvard Medical School, and his residency at Massachusetts General. Without meaning to, he found himself describing Danielle and the awful November night when she’d been killed. No one had ever drawn him out the way Carol did, not even Patrick, the psychiatrist he’d seen after Danielle’s death. Jason even heard himself describing his current depression over his increased patient mortality and then Roger’s s news that morning about Marge Todd’s death.

“I’m flattered that you’ve told me this,” Carol said sincerely. She hadn’t expected such openness and trust. “You’ve had a lot of emotional pain.”

“Life can be like that,” Jason said with a sigh. “I don’t know why I’ve bored you with all this.”

“It hasn’t been boring,” Carol said. “I think you’ve made an extraordinary adjustment. I think it was difficult yet very positive that you changed your work and living environment.

“Do you?” Jason asked. He hadn’t remembered saying that. He hadn’t expected to be so personal with Carol, but now that he’d done so, he felt better.

Enjoying their time together, it wasn’t until ten-thirty that they emerged from their respective rooms dressed for the day. Jason asked the bellman to bring their car to the front entrance, and they took the elevator down to the lobby. True to Carol’s prediction, when they emerged from the hotel the sky had darkened and a steady rain was falling.

With the help of an Avis map and Carol’s memory, they drove out to the University of Washington’s Medical School. Carol pointed out the research building Hayes had visited. They went in the front entrance and were immediately challenged by a uniformed security man. They had no University of Washington identity badges.

“I’m a doctor from Boston,” Jason said, removing his wallet to show his ID.

“Hey, man, I don’t care where you’re from. No badge, no entry. Simple as that. If you want to come in here, you have to go to Central Administration.”

Seeing it was fruitless to argue, they went to Central Administration. En route, Jason asked how Hayes had handled security.

“He called his friend beforehand,” Carol said. “The man met us in the parking lot.”

The woman at Central Administration was friendly and accommodating, and even showed Carol a faculty book to see if she could pick out Hayes’s friend. But faces weren’t enough, and Carol couldn’t identify him. Instead, armed with security badges, they returned to the research building.

Carol led Jason up to the fifth floor. The corridor was crowded with spare equipment, and the walls were in need of fresh paint. There was a pungent chemical smell, akin to formaldehyde.

“Here’s the lab,” Carol said, stopping by an open doorway. The names to the left of the door were Duncan Sechler, MD, PhD; and Rhett Shannon, MD, PhD. The department was, as Jason might have guessed, molecular genetics.

“Which name?” Jason asked.

“I don’t know,” Carol said, going up to a young technician and asking if either of the doctors was in.

“Both. They’re in the animal room.” He pointed over his shoulder, then turned as Carol walked by so he could catch the view from the rear. Jason was surprised by his blatancy.

The door to the animal room had a large glass panel. Inside were two men in white coats drawing blood from a monkey.

“It was the tall one with the gray hair,” Carol said, pointing. Jason moved closer to the window. The man Carol indicated was handsome and athletic appearing, of approximately Jason’s age. His hair was a uniform silver color that gave him a particularly distinguished look. The other man, in contrast, was almost bald. What hair he had was combed over the top of his head in a vain attempt to cover the thinning spot.

“Will he remember you?”

“Possibly. We only met for a moment before I went off to the Psychology Department.”

They waited until the doctors finished their task and emerged from the animal room. The tall gray-haired man was carrying the vial of blood.

“Excuse me,” Jason said. “Could I possibly have a moment of your time?”

The man glanced at Jason’s badge. “Are you a drug rep^?”

“Heavens, no.” Jason smiled. “I’m Dr. Jason Howard and this is Miss Carol Donner.”

“What can I do for you?”

“I’ll see you in a minute, Duncan,” interrupted the balding man.

“Okay,” Duncan said. “I’ll run the blood immediately.” Then, turning to Jason, he said, “Sorry.”

“Quite all right. I wanted to talk to you about an old acquaintance.”

“Oh?”

“Alvin Hayes. Do you remember him visiting you here?”

“Sure,” Duncan said, turning to Carol. “And weren’t you with him?”

Carol nodded. “You have a good memory.”

“I was shocked to hear he’d died. What a loss.”

“Carol said Hayes came to ask you something important,” Jason said. “Could you tell me what it was about?”

Duncan looked upset, glancing nervously around at the technicians.

“I’m not sure I want to talk about it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Was it business or a personal matter?”

“Maybe you’d better come into my office.”

Jason had trouble containing his excitement. It finally sounded as if he’d stumbled onto something significant.

After entering the office, Duncan closed the door. There were two metal-backed chairs. Removing stacks of journals, he motioned for Jason and Carol to sit.

“To answer your question,” he said, “Hayes came to see me for personal reasons, not business.”

“We’ve come three thousand miles just to talk with you,” Jason said. He wasn’t going to give up so easily, but it wasn’t sounding encouraging.

“If you’d called, I could have saved you the trip.” Some of Duncan’s friendliness had disappeared from his voice.

“Maybe I should tell you why we are so interested,” Jason said. He explained the mystery of Hayes’s possible discovery and his own futile attempts to figure out what it might have been.

“You think Hayes came to me for help in his research?” Duncan asked.

“That’s what I’d hoped.”

Duncan gave a short, unpleasant laugh. He looked at Jason out of the corner of his eye. “You wouldn’t be a narc, would you?”

Jason was confused.

“All right, I’ll tell you what Hayes wanted. A place to buy marijuana. He said he was terrified to fly with the stuff and couldn’t bring any with him. As a favor, I set him up with a kid on campus.”

Jason was stunned. His excitement dwindled like air seeping out of a balloon, leaving him deflated.

“I’m sorry to have taken your time….”

“Not at all.”

Carol and Jason walked out of the research building, surrendering their visitor’s badges to the security guard. Carol was smiling slyly.

“It isn’t so funny, you know,” Jason said as they got into the car.

“But it is,” Carol said. “You just can’t see it right at this moment.”

“We might as well go home,” he said gloomily.

“Oh, no! You dragged me all the way out here, and we’re not leaving until you see the mountains. It’s only a short drive.”

“Let me think about it,” Jason told her moodily.

Carol prevailed. They went back to the hotel, got their belongings, and before Jason knew it, they were on a freeway heading out of town. She insisted on driving. Soon the suburbs gave way to misty green forest, and the rolling hills became mountains. The rain stopped and Jason could see snow-capped peaks in the distance. The scenery was so beautiful he forgot his disappointment.

“It gets even prettier,” Carol said as they left the freeway, heading toward Cedar Falls. She remembered the route now and happily pointed out the sights. Taking an even smaller road, Carol drove along the Cedar River.

It was a nature fairyland, with deep forests, craggy rocks, distant mountains, and rushing rivers. As dusk fell, Carol turned off the road and bumped across a crushed stone driveway, coming to a halt in front of a picturesque mountain lodge constructed like an enormous five-story log cabin. Smoke curled up lazily from a huge fieldstone chimney. A sign over the steps leading to the porch said SALMON INN.

“Is this where you and Alvin stayed?” Jason asked, peering through the windshield. There was a huge porch with raw pine furniture.

“This is it.” Carol reached around to get her bag from the back seat.

They got out of the car. There was a chill to the air and the pungent smell of woodsmoke. Jason heard a distant sound of rushing water.

“The river’s on the other side of the lodge,” Carol said, mounting the steps. “Just a little way up there’s a cute waterfall. You’ll see it tomorrow.”

Jason followed her, suddenly wondering what the hell he was doing. The trip had been a mistake; he belonged back in Boston with his critically ill patients. Yet here he was in the Cascade Mountains with a girl he had no business admiring.

The interior of the inn was every bit as charming as the exterior. The central room was a large, two-story affair dominated by a gargantuan fireplace. It was furnished with chintz, animal heads, and scattered bearskin rugs. There were several people reading in front of the fire and a family playing Scrabble. A few heads turned as Jason and Carol approached the registration desk.

“Do you people have a reservation?” asked the man behind the desk.

Jason wondered if the man was joking. The place was immense, it was in the middle of nowhere, it was early November, and it wasn’t a weekend. He couldn’t imagine the demand would be very high.

“No reservations,” Carol said. “Is that a problem?”

“Let me see,” said the man, bending over his book.

“How many rooms are there in the hotel?” Jason asked, still bemused.

“Forty-two and six suites,” the receptionist said without looking up.

“Is there a shoe convention in town?”

The man laughed. “It’s always full this time of year. The salmon are running.”

Jason had heard of the Pacific salmon and how they’d mysteriously return to the particular freshwater breeding grounds that had spawned them. But he’d thought the phenomenon occurred in the spring.

“You’re in luck,” the receptionist said. “We have a room, but you might have to move tomorrow night. How many nights are you planning to stay?”

Carol looked at Jason. Jason felt a rush of anxiety-only one room! He didn’t know what to say. He started to stammer.

“Three nights,” Carol said.

“Fine. And how will you settle your bill?”

There was a pause.

“Credit card,” Jason said, fumbling for his wallet. He couldn’t believe what was happening.

As they followed the bellboy down the second-floor hallway, Jason wondered how he’d gotten himself into this. He hoped there would at least be twin beds. Much as he admired Carol’s looks, he wasn’t prepared for an affair with an exotic dancer who did God knows what else on the side.

“You people have a wonderful view,” the bellboy said.

Jason went in, but his eyes shifted immediately to the sleeping arrangements, not the windows. He was relieved to see separate beds.

When the boy left, Jason finally went over to admire the dramatic vista. The Cedar River, which at that point widened to what appeared to be a small lake, was bordered by tall evergreens that glowed a dark purple in the fading light. Immediately below was a lawn that sloped down to the water’s edge. Extending out into the river was a maze of docks used to moor twenty to thirty rowboats. On racks, out of the water, were canoes. Four large rubber boats with outboard motors were tied to the end of a dock. Jason could tell there was a significant current in the river despite its placid appearance, since all four of the rubber boats had their stems pointed downriver, their bowlines taut.

“Well, what do you think?” Carol said, clapping her hands. “Isn’t it cozy?”

The room was papered with a flower print. The floor was broad-planked pine with scattered rag rugs. The beds were covered with comforters printed to appear like quilts.

“It’s wonderful,” Jason said. He glanced into the bathroom, hoping for robes. “You seem to be the tour director. What now?”

“I vote for dinner immediately. I’m starved, And I think the dining room only serves until seven. People turn in early here.”

The restaurant had a curved, windowed wall facing the river. In the center of the wall were double doors leading to a wide porch. Jason guessed that in the summer the porch was used for dining. There were steps from the porch down to the lawn, and at the docks the lights had come on, illuminating the water.

About half of the two dozen tables in the room were filled. Most of the people were already on their coffee. It seemed to Jason that everyone stopped talking the moment he and Carol appeared.

“Why do I feel we’re on display?” Jason whispered.

“Because you’re anxious about sleeping in the same room with a young woman whom you barely know,” Carol whispered. “I think you feel defensive and a little guilty and unsure of what’s expected of you.”

Jason’s lower jaw slowly sank. He tried to look into Carol’s warmly liquid eyes to comprehend what was in there. He knew he was blushing. How on earth could a girl who danced half nude be so perceptive? Jason had always prided himself on his ability to evaluate people: after all, it was his job. As a physician, he had to have a sense of his patients’ inner dynamics. Yet why did he feel there was something about Carol that didn’t fit?

Glancing at Jason’s red face, Carol laughed. “Why don’t you just relax and enjoy yourself. Let down your hair, doctor — I’m certainly not going to bite.”

“Okay,” Jason said. “I’ll do just that.”

They dined on salmon, which was offered in bewilderingly tempting varieties. After great deliberation, they both had it baked in a pastry shell. For authenticity, they sampled a Washington State chardonnay which Jason found surprisingly good. At one point he heard himself laughing aloud. It had been a long time since he’d felt so free. It was at that point they both realized they were alone in the dining room.

Later that night when Jason was in bed, looking up at the dark ceiling, he again felt confused. It had been a comedy of sorts getting to bed, juggling towels as coverups, flipping a coin to see who used the bathroom first, and having to get out of bed to turn out the light. Jason had never remembered feeling quite so body conscious. Jason rolled over. In the darkness, he could just make out the outline of Carol’s form. She was on her side. He could hear the faint sound of her rhythmical breathing against the background sound of the distant waterfall. She was obviously asleep. Jason envied her honest acceptance of herself and her untroubled slumber. But what confused Jason was not the inconsistencies of Carol’s personality, but rather the fact that he was enjoying himself. And it was Carol who was making it happen.