Read Online Heart of a Killer by David Rosenfelt - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Rosenfelt
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tackling it head on.
Terry had been cooking for almost an hour, making a whole wheat pasta with a sauce that Terry’s own mother would have scorned as belonging in an old age home. But it was as good as it was going to get, and Terry had called out to Karen to sit down at the table.
She called three times, but Karen didn’t answer. This was not terribly unusual, as Karen had been sleeping during the day a great deal, and had a teenager’s immunity to sleep disturbances.
“Karen?” Terry kept calling, with increasing loudness as she walked to her room. She was by then starting to worry, moving more quickly as she approached.
Karen’s door was open, but she was not there. The door to the bathroom off her room was closed, and Terry moved toward it. She thought she could hear water running, so she called out, “Karen? Karen, sweetheart, are you okay?”
There was no response, so Terry called again, louder and more insistent. Still no answer, so Terry opened the door. “Karen, I’m sorry, I…”
Karen was on the floor, facedown, blood coming from the top of her head. Terry screamed and went to her, fearing the worst. She slowly turned her so that she could see her face, and she saw the blood coming from a cut, which was actually just above her eye.
But she was breathing, and starting to open her eyes groggily. She said something, so low and muffled that Terry couldn’t make it out.
“It’s okay, baby … you’re going to be okay,” Terry said, then took a folded towel and placed it gently between Karen’s head and the cold floor. She pressed another towel lightly to the cut, but it had mostly stopped bleeding by then.
Terry ran into the bedroom, grabbed the phone, and called 911, asking that an ambulance be sent. Within ten minutes the emergency medical people were in the house and putting Karen onto a stretcher, for the trip to the hospital.
Terry drove with her in the back of the ambulance. Karen was awake and coherent, but she was scared, and Terry tried to console her. “You must have slipped on the wet floor,” Terry said, but they both knew better.
Karen was taken to the emergency room, but admitted to the hospital as a patient. It was not because of the cut, but because of her condition. Her heart was weakening at an alarming rate, and it was felt that she would be better off in the hospital, where she could be monitored and cared for.
Stress was something that her doctors wanted her to have none of, so it was decided, at least for the time being, that the furor surrounding her mother would be kept from her. This was not as easy as it sounded; it meant that she could only watch television when supervised, and could not take phone calls from her friends.
Terry was having a difficult time. The horror of watching her granddaughter go through this, coupled with the nightmare going on with Sheryl, was enough stress for ten people, and it was weighing heavily on Terry.
But life had never been easy for her, and it had made her a remarkably strong woman. She was going to get through this, no matter which direction it went, and she was going to be there for her family.
And the part that made this particularly unbearable, and so terribly, terribly unfair, was the secret that she had promised never to reveal.
Uncle Reggie called me at seven o’clock in the morning. I was sleeping, having been up until 1:00 A.M. the previous night doing media interviews over the phone. When they say that cable news is a 24/7 operation, they mean it literally.
“He’ll see you at eight-thirty behind the tennis courts at Eastside Park in Paterson,” was the opening Reggie used instead of “hello.” “And he said if you bring any reporters, he’ll cut your tongue out.”
“Paterson? I’m in New York.”
“Then you’d better get your ass moving; he’s doing this as a favor to me.”
I jumped in the shower, dressed, and was in my car in fifteen minutes. I had a vague idea how to get to Paterson, but no
Terry had been cooking for almost an hour, making a whole wheat pasta with a sauce that Terry’s own mother would have scorned as belonging in an old age home. But it was as good as it was going to get, and Terry had called out to Karen to sit down at the table.
She called three times, but Karen didn’t answer. This was not terribly unusual, as Karen had been sleeping during the day a great deal, and had a teenager’s immunity to sleep disturbances.
“Karen?” Terry kept calling, with increasing loudness as she walked to her room. She was by then starting to worry, moving more quickly as she approached.
Karen’s door was open, but she was not there. The door to the bathroom off her room was closed, and Terry moved toward it. She thought she could hear water running, so she called out, “Karen? Karen, sweetheart, are you okay?”
There was no response, so Terry called again, louder and more insistent. Still no answer, so Terry opened the door. “Karen, I’m sorry, I…”
Karen was on the floor, facedown, blood coming from the top of her head. Terry screamed and went to her, fearing the worst. She slowly turned her so that she could see her face, and she saw the blood coming from a cut, which was actually just above her eye.
But she was breathing, and starting to open her eyes groggily. She said something, so low and muffled that Terry couldn’t make it out.
“It’s okay, baby … you’re going to be okay,” Terry said, then took a folded towel and placed it gently between Karen’s head and the cold floor. She pressed another towel lightly to the cut, but it had mostly stopped bleeding by then.
Terry ran into the bedroom, grabbed the phone, and called 911, asking that an ambulance be sent. Within ten minutes the emergency medical people were in the house and putting Karen onto a stretcher, for the trip to the hospital.
Terry drove with her in the back of the ambulance. Karen was awake and coherent, but she was scared, and Terry tried to console her. “You must have slipped on the wet floor,” Terry said, but they both knew better.
Karen was taken to the emergency room, but admitted to the hospital as a patient. It was not because of the cut, but because of her condition. Her heart was weakening at an alarming rate, and it was felt that she would be better off in the hospital, where she could be monitored and cared for.
Stress was something that her doctors wanted her to have none of, so it was decided, at least for the time being, that the furor surrounding her mother would be kept from her. This was not as easy as it sounded; it meant that she could only watch television when supervised, and could not take phone calls from her friends.
Terry was having a difficult time. The horror of watching her granddaughter go through this, coupled with the nightmare going on with Sheryl, was enough stress for ten people, and it was weighing heavily on Terry.
But life had never been easy for her, and it had made her a remarkably strong woman. She was going to get through this, no matter which direction it went, and she was going to be there for her family.
And the part that made this particularly unbearable, and so terribly, terribly unfair, was the secret that she had promised never to reveal.
Uncle Reggie called me at seven o’clock in the morning. I was sleeping, having been up until 1:00 A.M. the previous night doing media interviews over the phone. When they say that cable news is a 24/7 operation, they mean it literally.
“He’ll see you at eight-thirty behind the tennis courts at Eastside Park in Paterson,” was the opening Reggie used instead of “hello.” “And he said if you bring any reporters, he’ll cut your tongue out.”
“Paterson? I’m in New York.”
“Then you’d better get your ass moving; he’s doing this as a favor to me.”
I jumped in the shower, dressed, and was in my car in fifteen minutes. I had a vague idea how to get to Paterson, but no
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