Gail Bowen - One Fine Day You’re Gonna Die

Robin’s jaw is tight. Staying in control is taking its toll.

“Tell her to run.”

I shake my head and cover the mike with my hand.

“Gabe has the hypodermic, Robin.”

“Tell her…tell her I love her.” Behind Kali’s small voice we hear the bell again. “There’s that sound,” Robin says. “Where have I heard it?”

“Turn on your mike,” I say. “Keep Kali talking. If you hear the bell again, you might be able to identify it.”

“That sounds like fun, Kali,” I say.

“It is fun,” Kali says. “I’m caught in the Molasses Swamp now-you’re stuck in there until…”

“Until you draw the red card,” Robin says. She’s close to tears.

“I didn’t think you’d remember the rules,” Gabe says. He seems genuinely moved.

“I remember a lot, Gabe.” Robin’s voice is, as Gabe described it, full of music.

Through the talkback, Nova’s voice is tense but excited.

“Dr. Harris is doing exactly what she needs to do. Tell her to ramp it up. If she can make Gabe believe they have a future together, we can save Kali.”

I flick off my mike and touch Robin’s arm. “My producer thinks that you’re getting through to Gabe. Keep going.”

She nods.

“Gabe, remember the first time we took Kali tobogganing on that big hill over by the ravine? All she wanted to do was race down the hill, but you were worried she’d get hurt. You made her listen to your tobogganing safety rules five times.”

Gabe laughs softly at the memory.

“Finally she got bored, leapt onto her sled and just pushed off. When she hit that bump and sailed through the air, I thought my heart would stop.

“We jumped onto our toboggan and soared after her.” Robin looks to me for approval, and I give her what I hope is an encouraging grin. It does the trick. She carries on. “You and I were such idiots, Gabe. Of course, we hit the same bump Kali did. She was fine, but we nearly broke our backs.”

“Kali was wearing that cap she loved,” Gabe says. “The one with the bunny ears. She shook her finger at us and said, ‘When you were telling me all that stuff about being careful, weren’t you listening?’”

In the background, we hear the sound again. This time I make a connection. I turn off my mike.

“I think it’s an elevator bell-the kind elevators in old buildings have. Keep him talking.”

Robin takes a deep breath and plunges in again.

“Then there was that month we spent at Lake Saint Joseph.”

Gabe’s voice is husky with emotion.

“We made love every morning before Kali woke up. I painted your toenails. The shade was called My Auntie Drinks Chianti-and your toenails were perfect-they looked like small, wet pink petals.”

“You and Kali were never out of the water,” Robin says. “You taught her how to swim and paddle a canoe. And that sand castle the two of you made-it was a work of art.”

“Until the rain came and washed it away. Kali was heartbroken, but you just said, ‘Make another one’ and went back to that journal article you were writing.”

Gabe’s voice has changed. The joy has given way to a terrible despair.

“I remember every second of every hour I was with you, Robin. Dante was right: ‘There is nothing more painful than remembering happy days in times of sorrow.’”

Gabe’s anguish is a knife in my heart. We’ve lost him, and that means we’ve lost Kali. When I meet Robin’s eyes, I see a panic that mirrors my own. She turns off her mike.

“It’s not working,” she says. “Do something.”

I grasp at a cliché.

“ Time heals all wounds, Gabe,” I say. “You just have to hang on.”

“There’s nothing to hang on to, Charlie. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. When your show started tonight, you talked about that moment when Eurydice stretches out her arms to Orpheus, but all she can grasp is air. That’s the way it will always be for Kali and me. We’ll always be reaching for Robin, but we’ll never be able to touch her.” His voice breaks . “How could I allow my beautiful Kali to endure that?”

“She doesn’t have to,” I say. “Kali will love other people. Gabe, no one’s life hangs on the love of a single person.”

“Your life did,” Gabe says gently. “Over the years, I’ve often listened to your show. I was listening the night you found out the woman you loved was dead. What was her name again?”

“Ariel.”

“Ariel,” he repeats. “It’s a beautiful name-full of light. When you realized you would never touch her again, wouldn’t you have given anything for a needle that would end your pain?”

“That was different,” I say. My voice is flat. “Ariel was…damn it, Gabe. It doesn’t matter what Ariel was. She’s dead. Kali is alive.”

“And that means ter rible things can happen to her. In ten minutes I’ll be dead. Nothing will ever hurt me again. What kind of man would I be if I left Kali to face the pain alone?”

Robin reaches for her microphone and clutches it as if it were a lifeline .

“Gabe. I’ll come back to you. I promise.”

“Don’t say another word, Robin. You were never a good liar. I don’t want to die knowing that the last words you spoke to me were a lie.”

Robin takes off her earphones, folds her arms on the desk and rests her forehead on them. I have no idea how to comfort her. As always when I hit the wall, my gaze travels to the control room. Nova meets my gaze and opens the talkback. The news is not good.

“The police aren’t going to find Gabe and Kali,” she says. “They’re running out of time, and they have no leads. They’re focusing on the hospital because, according to Gabriel Ireland’s friends, that’s where he felt most at home.”

“And nothing?” I say.

“Nothing. The hospital has been code black since we learned that Kali was with Dr. Ireland. There are literally hundreds of people looking for them, but that hospital is huge. I’m going to play another Tord Gustavsen tune-give you some time to prepare Robin Harris for the worst.”

When she sees that I’m on the talkback, Robin turns her eyes to me. She has the five-mile stare of a person sliding into shock. I don’t know how to pull her back. The cool Nordic rhythms of Tord Gustavsen’s trio drift through my earphones. Usually the trio’s clean, effortless riffs help me to think clearly. Nothing helps tonight. The panic in my chest expands. I’m having trouble breathing.

“There has to be something we can do,” I say to Nova.

She shakes her head. “No one’s calling. No one’s emailing. No one’s texting. Everybody’s scared, Charlie. They know that Kali’s life is at stake. You asked people to keep the lines open, and that’s what they’re doing.”

“Do you think I should go on-air and make another appeal?”

Nova rubs her eyes. “It can’t hurt,” she says. “Anything’s better than just sitting here listening to the clock tick off the minutes of Kali’s life.”

I flip on my microphone. Suddenly Nova raises her hand in a halt gesture. “Hold on,” she says. “We’ve got a call.”

“Do you want me to take it on-air?”

“Give me a minute to make sure it isn’t a hoax.”

As she takes the caller’s information, Nova’s body tenses. Her voice through the talkback is tight with excitement. “This is the real thing. The caller’s name is Paulina Terzic. She’s a member of the janitorial staff at Lakeshore Hospital. She just came off her shift and tuned us in.”