1st to Die - James Patterson [60]
I was dying, wasn’t I? Oh, God.
“What happens now?” I managed to say. My voice came out as a whisper.
“I want to continue with the treatments,” Medved replied. “In fact, increase them. Sometimes these things take a while to kick in.”
“Super hi-test,” I joked glumly.
He nodded. “From this point on, I’d like you to come in three times a week. And I’m going to increase the dosage by thirty percent.” He shifted his weight off the counter. “In and of itself, there’s no immediate cause for alarm,” he declared in a marginally uplifting tone. “You can continue to work—that is, if you feel up to it.”
“I have to work,” I told Medved.
Chapter 66
I DROVE HOME IN A DAZE. One moment I was battling to unravel this damned case, and the next I was fighting for my life.
I wanted a name. I wanted it now more than ever. And I wanted my life back. I wanted a shot at the whole deal—happiness, success, someone to share it with, a child. And now that I had met Raleigh, I knew there was a chance that I could have these things. If I could hold out. If I could will good cells into my body.
I went into my apartment. Sweet Martha was all over me, so I took her for a short walk. But then I moped around, alternating between resolve to fight through this mess and sadness that I couldn’t. I even contemplated making a meal. I thought it would calm me.
I took out an onion and cut two desultory slices. Then I realized how crazy it all was.
I needed to talk to someone. I wanted to shout, I don’t fucking deserve this, and this time I wanted someone to hear it.
I thought of Chris, his comforting arms around me. His eyes, his smile. I wished I could tell him. He would come in an instant. I could rest my head on his shoulder.
I called Claire. She could tell from my first tremulous sound. She realized something was terribly wrong.
“I’m scared,” was all I said.
We talked for an hour on the phone. I talked.
I went back and forth with Claire in a numbed state—panicked by the impending nearness of Negli’s next stage. I told Claire that nailing this bastard gave me the will to fight on. It separated me from being just another person who was sick. I had a special purpose.
“Has that changed for you, Lindsay?” she asked softly.
“No, I want to get him more than ever.”
“Then that’s what we’re going to do. You, me, little Cindy. We’re here to help you fight. We’re your support, Lindsay. Just this one time, don’t try to do it yourself.”
In an hour, she had calmed me enough so we could say good-night.
I curled up on the couch. Martha and I snuggled under a blanket and watched the movie Dave. One of my favorites. When Sigourney Weaver visits Kevin Kline in his new campaign office at the end, it always makes me cry.
I fell asleep, hoping for a happy ending in my own life.
Chapter 67
THE NEXT MORNING I went at it stronger than ever. I still believed we were close, maybe just hours from a name for Red Beard.
I checked in with Roth’s contact, Jim Heekin, on the Seattle police force. Heekin said they were sorting through the bride’s possessions as we spoke. If something came up he would let me know immediately.
We got a reply back from Infortech, where Kathy Voskuhl had worked in Seattle. In the three years she had held her job, there was no record of any reimbursements for business trips to San Francisco. Her job was to work with developing clients in Seattle. A junior account manager. If she repeatedly went down there, she was on her own.
Finally, I called McBride. The Koguts were still claiming that they knew nothing more. But yesterday he’d met with the father, who seemed ready to give in. It was wrenching that some desperate attempt to hold together their daughter’s virtue was clouding their judgment.
Since I was a woman, McBride suggested, maybe one more try from me would push them over the edge. I placed a call to Christine Kogut, the bride’s mother.
When she came on, her voice was different: remote but freer, as if she were in a less tormented state. Maybe, I just hoped, she was.
“Your daughter’s killer is running