Glenn Beck - The Overton Window

“We meet again,” she said. It was barely more than a whisper, spoken as though her lungs might hold the space for only a thimbleful of air.

There were bruises on her face and arms, dark, uneven spots within yellowing patches, and a bandage on her neck with a soak of crusted brown near its center. She was withered, already a shadow of the person he’d last seen on Friday night. The only thing that remained undimmed was that unforgettable spark in her light green eyes.

He had no idea what to say, but he said it anyway.

“You’re going to be all right.”

That brought a smile again, but she shook her head slowly and touched his hand that was nearest hers.

“We shouldn’t deceive ourselves,” she said. “I’m afraid there isn’t time.” She was measuring her breath as she spoke, managing only a few words of each phrase between shallow inhalations. “I don’t expect you to understand why Molly did what I asked her to do.” The grip on his hand tightened, as though all the strength she had was centering there. “You should blame me, and not her. But I hold the privilege of a dying woman now, and I want you to put everything aside except what I’m about to say.”

“Okay”

“My daughter is in danger. I need for you to promise me you’ll see her to safety.”

There were so many conflicting things hammering at his mind, but despite all that mental noise and everything that had happened, for once in his life he could see it all arranged in its true order of significance, and so he knew for certain there was only one thing to be said.

“I will.”

Her grip relaxed somewhat, her head rested back onto the pillow, and she closed her eyes. Soon a private little smile drifted into her features, as though she might have just then put the finish on a silent prayer.

“Thank you,” Beverly whispered.

He didn’t respond, but only because he didn’t want to presume to be the one she was addressing.

“I sent Molly away, but she isn’t safe yet,” she said. “She’s waiting now, near the airport. Look in the top drawer of the nightstand. She called and told one of the nurses where she’d be and they wrote it down for me.”

“Okay,” he said. “I think I’d better get started, then.” He moved to place her hand down on the bed at her side, but she didn’t let him go.

“Do you know what we’re fighting against, son?”

“Yeah, I think so. Some pretty evil people.”

She offered a look that seemed to suggest his naïvete was something she longed for. “Ephesians 6:12-look it up when you get a chance.”

“I will,” he said.

“There’s more to you, Noah. More than you might be ready to believe. I knew of your mother many years ago, and the good she wanted to do. That’s what Molly saw in you: she told me. Not your father, but what your mother’s given you. And I see it, too.”

“I guess I’m glad somebody does.”

“Noah…”

“Yes.”

There was that tiny glint of a smile again. “Noah, from the Bible, you know?”

He nodded, and despite everything, he smiled a bit himself. “Old Testament.”

The weak hold on his hand tightened once again.

“He wasn’t chosen because he was the best man who ever lived,” she said softly. “He was chosen because he was the best man available.”

Out in the hallway he hadn’t made it five steps before Ellen Davenport caught up to him. She took him firmly by the sleeve, pulled him behind her into a nearby storeroom, and closed the door.

“I need to go, Ellen.”

“You need to listen to me first. I learned some things while you were in there just now. Who is that woman to you?”

“She’s the mother of a friend of mine.”

Ellen nodded. “Sit down.”

He could tell by her tone that he shouldn’t argue, and he pulled over a nearby stool and sat.

“What is it?”

“She’s going to die, you know.”

“How can you say that? She just took a bad beating, right? She’s not that old. They can fix anything with enough-”

“Shh. Now listen. There are some things we can’t fix, Noah. Whoever did this to her did something they knew we couldn’t fix.”

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t tell anyone I’m talking to you about this, understand? And not just because I could lose my ticket.”

“Okay.”

“They gave her a beating, yeah, probably just for the fun of it. And then they poisoned her.”

A chill passed over him.

“What kind of poison was it?”

“Paraquat,” she said. She seemed to watch his eyes for signs of recognition but there were none. “Do you see now, the point they were trying to make? The animals who got to this woman? Paraquat is a pesticide. A weed killer.”

“A pesticide.” He’d heard what she said but he repeated it aloud, just to make sure he understood.

“It starts an irreversible fibrosis in the lungs-a scarring that progresses until you finally can’t breathe anymore. If that doesn’t kill you first, all the other organ systems begin to shut down, and then it’s over. There’s nothing we can do about it; we can’t even give her oxygen. That just makes it worse. She might have another day, or another week, but it’s obvious that they wanted her to suffer.”

“How do the doctors here know that’s what was used?”

“Well, it’s easy enough for the lab to pick it up, but in this case it was even easier than that. The people who did this, they left a veterinary syringe in her neck. It was still there when EMS responded to the call.”

Noah stood up, but too quickly, and he could feel the stubborn light-headedness threatening to return. “Where are those pills, the ones you took from me?”

She went to her pocket and handed him the bottle. “I wrote you some instructions for that stuff. Just go easy on it, okay? In fact, whatever you’re coming down from I’d recommend you just ride it out and stop self-medicating.”

“Good-bye, doctor. Thanks for everything.”

“I don’t know how you’re involved in all this,” Ellen said, “but you’d better know something, Noah. There are a million kinds of murder, but anyone who would do to a person what they did to her? It only means there’s nothing at all they wouldn’t do.”

The street address that had been scrawled on the hospital’s notepaper didn’t lead him to another of the so-called safe houses that Molly had described. When Noah looked up as the cab pulled to a stop he found he was outside what looked like a quaint family-style eatery, the Buccaneer Diner on Astoria Boulevard in Queens, about a mile from La Guardia Airport.

Inside the restaurant the lunchtime rush was winding down, with most of the tables emptying out and the floor staff busy doing cleanup and taking care of departing patrons at the register. But sitting alone in a booth near the back, in the nearest thing to a dark corner that was available in such a place on a sunny Monday afternoon, was the young woman he’d come to see.

When Molly looked over and saw him walking up the aisle she stood and was suddenly overcome by a flood of tears she must have been barely holding at bay. She ran to him and threw herself into his arms.

In the cab on the way he’d given a great deal of thought to what he might say to her if he actually found her waiting at the end of the ride. Now that he was facing her all of the mental dialogue he’d rehearsed had winked right out of his mind. Nothing in his long history of skin-deep relationships provided any clue as to where to begin.

Not only did you break my heart, but you and your friends could have killed me with an overdose, all in the name of a hopeless cause.

I care about you, I was starting to believe in you, and now I don’t know if a single thing between us was real.