Sullivan's Law (12 page)

B
y four o'clock Wednesday afternoon, Carolyn had Daniel Metroix in the passenger seat of Professor Leighton's BMW. His clothes reeked of smoke and were in tatters, and a day's growth of stubble covered his face. He hadn't said a word since they'd left the jail. She noticed that his right arm was jerking in some type of spasm.

“What's the name of the drug you're taking?” she asked, glancing over at him.

“Decanoic acid phenothiazine,” Daniel told her. “I was supposed to take my monthly injection several days ago. The infirmary at prison used to give it to me. I lost track of time. My medicine, along with the rest of my stuff, was in the motel room. Do you have it?”

“No,” she said, wondering how she could obtain this type of medication. People didn't hand out psychotropic drugs, and what he was taking probably wasn't even that common. If she wasn't mistaken, she recalled him mentioning that the drug had only recently been approved by the FDA.

“Why did they arrest me again?”

Carolyn's hands locked on the steering wheel. The look out of his eyes was frightening. He was probably exhausted and confused, in addition to the fact that he hadn't taken his injection. No way could she allow him around her children.

“They made a mistake,” she told him. “I took care of it, didn't I? You're not in jail anymore.”

“What happened to my work?”

“I'm not certain,” she said, although she knew it was lost forever. Perhaps what she saw on his face was despair. Finally his life had taken a right turn, only to end up back where he'd started. “Let's deal with the most urgent problem first. We have to find a way to get you a new prescription.”

“My work's important,” Daniel told her, becoming agitated. “I might not be able to regenerate even a fraction of what was in that room. Those papers represented years of my life. I wish you'd let me die last night. All I've ever had was my work.”

“I understand,” Carolyn said, keeping her voice low and consoling. “We need to find a psychiatrist. No one outside of a psychiatrist would be able to prescribe that type of medication. I only know one person we can call,” she added, thinking of Dr. Weiss. “He doesn't see patients anymore. Besides, I'm sure a new doctor would want to evaluate you before he prescribed anything, maybe even admit you to a hospital.”

Carolyn felt as if she were talking to herself. Daniel had his head turned, and didn't appear to be listening. She thought about dropping him off at the local mental health facility so she could go home and get some rest. Not only was his life in jeopardy, she appeared to be linked to him by association. She had to keep tabs on him for her own protection. In addition, she needed more information.

“What happened at the jail?”

“I don't remember.”

His voice was muffled, and he was still staring out the window. “Look at me,” she said. “Did you hit anyone?”

“I don't think so,” Daniel told her, clasping one of his hands with the other to control the tremors. “I need my medicine.”

“I understand,” Carolyn said, suddenly remembering that she made a copy of the prescription to put in his file. “You had your prescription when you came for your intake interview. Where is it now?”

He became quiet, then suddenly started talking rapidly. “I dropped it off at the drugstore near the motel so I wouldn't lose it.”

“Do you remember the name of the pharmacy?”

“Rite Aid,” he said, a sense of urgency flashing in his eyes. “Can you take me there?”

“That's where I'm headed now,” she answered, making a U-turn and steering the car onto the 101 Freeway. “You need to stay calm and trust me. Once we get your medicine, I'm going to see if I can rent you another motel room. You must do exactly as I tell you. We don't want a repeat of last night.”

“I have money,” he said. “My attorney, Mr. Fletcher, had me open up a bank account. The bank's right down the street from the drugstore.”

“You'll need identification,” Carolyn told him. “Not only that, most hotels require a credit card. We may run into trouble. My purse and all its contents were destroyed.”

Daniel reached into his pocket and pulled out a new black leather wallet. “I have everything,” he said, flipping the wallet open and displaying a California identification card, as well as numerous credit and bank cards.

She no longer had to worry about verifying his story about the money he'd inherited. “Was that in your pocket last night?”

“Yes,” he said. “Mr. Fletcher set me up, like I said. I've never used any of the plastic cards except for the motel.”

“Did you tell this attorney where you were staying?”

“Of course,” he said, looking at her as if he didn't understand why she'd asked him such a foolish question.

Carolyn almost collided with the car in front of her. “I thought you said you didn't give anyone except me the phone number to the motel.”

“I didn't,” he told her.

“But you said you did.”

“No,” Daniel said. “I said I
told
him where I was staying. That didn't mean I gave him the phone number.”

Carolyn felt the hairs prick on the back of her neck. Since he'd told his attorney where he was staying, her premise that no one outside of herself knew that he was renting a room at the Seagull Motel had flown out the window. “Has everything you've told me been the truth?”

“Yes,” he said. “I don't lie.”

“I called the warden at Chino. He referred to your lab as a workshop. He said you and some other trustees repaired small appliances and made tools. Is that what you were doing?”

“No,” Daniel said, the spasm in his right arm getting worse. “Did Warden Lackner really say those things?”

“He said you made up the stuff about your inventions, that you'd never invented anything. I'm trying to help you. I have to know the truth.”

“I thought the warden liked me,” Daniel said, looking dejected. “I did everything he told me to do.”

“Did he make you sign a release for your inventions?”

“Yes,” he told her. “No one ever believes me. They didn't believe me when I told them those boys attacked me. They didn't believe me in the jail this morning.”

“What happened at the jail?”

“I slipped and fell. One of the other inmates slugged a guard, then everyone got into it. As usual, they blamed me.”

Carolyn made a sharp left when she saw the Rite Aid sign. “We're here,” she said, relieved. “Let's go inside and get your medicine.”

“I need paper, the large kind.”

They got out of the car and headed into the store. “You're not going to school,” Carolyn said, losing her patience. “Get the damn prescription filled so I can go home.”

“My work,” Daniel said, crestfallen. “I want to try to reproduce my work. I lost things I've been working on since I was a teenager.”

“Be thankful you're not in jail,” Carolyn told him. “I'll call you tomorrow morning. You have to promise me you'll stay in the motel. This is serious, understand?”

“Is someone still trying to kill me?” Daniel asked as they headed down the aisles toward the pharmacy. “Is that why you're helping me?”

“They may be,” she said. “There's another problem. I'm in danger and so is my family. If you know anything you're not telling me, you better cough it up right now.”

“I need books,” Daniel said. “Get me anything you can find on thermodynamics. I was studying thermal electron generators. I also need information on hydrogen power cells.”

Carolyn glanced down and saw that his shoelaces were untied. “Tie your laces,” she told him. He also needed clean clothing, deodorant, a toothbrush, a razor. Brad's assigning her a parolee to supervise had ticked her off, but nowhere to the extent of what she felt now. “I'm not your personal shopper. Get what you need while they're filling your prescription. Then we're leaving, got it?”

Carolyn remembered that she also had to watch him give himself the injection. Her children were home alone. She was the one who needed to see a shrink.

 

By nine-thirty Wednesday evening, Carolyn felt as if she were about to pass out from exhaustion. She'd spent over an hour helping Rebecca with her homework, then cleaned up the kitchen so her son could complete his studies. Finally she tucked her daughter into bed. As she was heading down the hall, she ran into John.

“Paul called while you were in Rebecca's room,” he said, trailing behind his mother as she continued toward the master bedroom. “I wanted to come and get you. He told me not to bother you. Why didn't you tell me someone broke the windows out in the Infiniti? Paul said he loaned you his other car, that blue BMW I saw in his garage. He called to make certain you didn't have any problems with it.”

Not wanting to alarm the children, Carolyn had parked the professor's car on the opposite side of the street. She also didn't want to tell her son that it was far more than the windows on the Infiniti that had been damaged. The professor must have seen his BMW and feared she'd had some kind of mechanical problems.

Sitting down in the blue velvet chair across from her bed, Carolyn draped her arms over the sides and stretched her legs out in front of her. “I didn't want to scare you,” she said. “I guess I should have told you about the car. After last night, I thought we needed some time to regroup.”

John's face twisted in anger. “Some of my friends saw the article in the paper about the explosion. Why didn't you tell me that man had been convicted of killing a kid?” He pointed an accusing finger at her. “Someone's messing with you again because of him.”

“No one hurt me,” Carolyn told him, too tired to argue. “Think about it, honey. I was in the house alone when the damage to the car occurred. If they'd wanted to hurt me, why didn't they do it then?”

“Wrong!” John said, closing the door to his mother's room so his sister wouldn't overhear. “Whoever these people are, they're warning you. You were with that stupid guy again tonight, weren't you? That's why you were late. Jesus, Mother, why are you doing this? I feel like you're the kid and I'm the parent, like you've suddenly decided to hang out with the wrong crowd. Are you in love with this creep or something? Tell me, okay? Because I don't understand.” He stopped speaking, then a moment later erupted again. “Don't you know how I feel? You're going to get us killed.”

“Don't raise your voice to me,” Carolyn said. “I'm ethically bound to help this man if I suspect he's been a victim of injustice. Well, let me tell you something. This isn't a little mistake someone made. Daniel Metroix has lost most of his adult life. And I know a lot more about life than you do,
son.”
She paused, letting her last word linger in the air.

When his mother used a generic reference such as
son,
John knew it was time to shut up and listen. It was her way of reminding him where he stood in the pecking order.

“Everything that's happened over the last two days only confirms my suspicions that Daniel Metroix was framed. What's going on right now may not be related to the Harrison boy's death. There's a possibility that it has something to do with his inventions.”

John didn't understand what his mother meant by inventions. All he knew was now was not the time to ask questions. “Fine,” he said, slapping his hands against his thighs. “What do you want us to do?”

“Be extremely cautious,” Carolyn advised, repositioning herself in the chair. “From now on, I don't want Rebecca walking on the street alone. Either I'll drive her or you'll have to walk her to school and pick her up at the end of the day.” She knew what she was asking of him was an additional inconvenience. Life wasn't easy. “As to your own protection, try to stay in a group when you're not here at the house. I'll buy both you and Rebecca a cell phone tomorrow. That way, you can call either me or the police if you notice anything even slightly suspicious.” She paused, letting her previous statements sink in. “I'm not going back to law school until this problem has been resolved. That way, you won't be alone as much as you have in the past. You'll also have more time to concentrate on your schoolwork.”

“Why would you drop out of law school because of this man?” John asked. “You've worked so hard.”

“I didn't say I was dropping out for the entire semester,” Carolyn told him. “I may miss a few classes, that's all. I can catch up. Besides, I'm not giving up my school or anything else for
this man,
as you keep calling him.”

She bent down and plucked one of the bandages off her right knee. The stitches would dissolve, the doctor had told her. Too bad problems didn't dissolve as easily. “When I became a probation officer,” she said, “I took an oath to uphold the law and protect society. Daniel Metroix is every bit as deserving of my time and efforts as Professor Leighton down the street or any other resident of this county. This may sound overly simplistic, John, but bad things happen to good people. Never forget that one of those unfortunate people could one day be you.”

The wisdom of his mother's words struck home. John knelt on the floor in front of her and gently removed the bandage from her other knee.

“I can't back off now, anyway,” she whispered, knowing whoever was trying to kill Daniel had probably already learned that she'd arranged his release from jail. “I'm in too deep.”

“Why don't you take off those jeans,” John told her, gazing into her eyes with respect and tenderness. “I'll get some hydrogen peroxide and some new Band-Aids. The cuts aren't that deep. You should keep them covered, though, so they won't get infected.” He reached over and rolled up her sleeves, removing the bandages and studying the cuts on her elbows. “They didn't even need to stitch up this one,” he told her, clasping her left forearm as he examined the wound. “Stay here while I get the first-aid kit from the kitchen. Then you have to go straight to bed.”