Robin Cook - Terminal

The first person Sean thought to call after hearing about the police was his brother Brian. Before Sean spoke to any police, he wanted to speak to the best lawyer he knew. He hoped his brother would be home. He usually was on Saturday afternoon. But instead of Brian he got Brian’s answering machine with its inane message complete with background elevator music. Sometimes Sean wondered how they could have grown up in the same house.

Sean left a message saying that it was important that they talk, but that he couldn’t leave a number. He said he’d call later. Sean would try again once he got to Naples.

Returning to his car, Sean sped back toward the Forbes. He wanted to be sure to be at their appointed meeting place when Janet got off work.

By three-twenty when the last details of report were being given, Janet fell asleep. She’d been exhausted when Sean had awakened her that morning, but after a shower and coffee, she’d felt reasonably good. She’d needed more coffee midway through the morning and then again early in the afternoon. She’d done well until she’d sat down for report. As soon as she was stationary, her fatigue became overpowering, and she embarrassed herself by nodding off. Marjorie had to give her a nudge in the ribs.

“You look like you’re burning the candle at both ends,” Marjorie said.

Janet merely smiled. Even if she could tell Marjorie all she’d been up to the previous afternoon and evening, she doubted Marjorie would have believed her. In fact, she wasn’t sure she believed it herself.

As soon as report was over, Janet got her things together and crossed over to the Forbes research building. Sean was sitting in the foyer reading a magazine. He smiled as soon as he saw her. She was glad to see his mood had improved since they’d met in the cafeteria.

“You ready for our little trip?” Sean asked, getting to his feet.

“Couldn’t be more ready,” Janet said. “Although I would like to get this uniform off and take a shower.”

“The uniform we can handle,” Sean said. “There’s a ladies’ room right here in the foyer where you can change. The shower will have to wait, but beating the traffic is worth the sacrifice. Our route will take us right by the airport, and I’m sure there’s traffic there every afternoon.”

“I was only kidding about the shower,” Janet said. “But I will change.”

“Be my guest,” Sean said. He pointed to the ladies’ room door.

Tom Widdicomb had his hand in his pants pocket clutching his pearl-handled “Saturday night special” revolver. He’d been standing off to the side of the hospital entrance watching for Janet Reardon to emerge. He thought that there might be a chance he could shoot her as she got into her car. In his mind’s eye he saw himself walk up just as she got in behind the wheel. He’d shoot her in the back of the head and keep walking. With all the clutter and confusion of people and cars and the noise of car engines starting, the sound of the gun would be lost.

But there was one problem. Janet had not appeared. Tom had seen other familiar faces, including nurses from the fourth floor, so it was not as if report had held her up.

Tom looked at his watch. It was three-thirty-seven, and the mass exodus of the day shift had slowed to a trickle. Most people had now left, and Tom was confused and frantic; he had to find her. He’d made the effort to be sure she was working, but where was she?

Pushing off from where he’d been leaning against the building, Tom walked around the edge of the hospital and headed in the direction of the research building. He could see the walkway spanning the two structures. He wondered if she could have crossed and exited on the research side.

He was midway between the two buildings when the sight of a long black limousine gave him pause. Tom figured that some celebrity was being treated in the outpatient department. It had happened before.

Scanning the parking lot in a wide arc, Tom nervously tried to think what he should do. He wished he knew what kind of car Janet drove because then he’d know if she’d slipped away or not. If she had, there was a big problem. He knew she was scheduled to be off the next day, and unless he found out where she lived, she’d be inaccessible for the rest of the weekend. And that was trouble. Without some kind of definitive information, Tom hated the thought of going home to a silent house. Alice hadn’t spoken to him all night.

Tom was still trying to figure out what to do when he saw the black 4 x 4 he’d followed the day before. He started moving toward it for a closer look when suddenly, there she was! She’d just exited the research building.

Tom was relieved to see her at last but chagrined that she was not alone. Accompanying her was the same man she’d been with the previous afternoon. Tom watched as they walked toward the 4 x 4. She was carrying an overnight bag. Tom was about to sprint back to his car when he saw that they weren’t climbing into the Isuzu. Instead they merely got out an additional suitcase and a garment bag.

Tom knew that shooting Janet in the parking lot was out of the question now that the day shift had left. Besides, being with someone meant he’d have to shoot both if he didn’t want to leave a witness.

Tom started back for his car, keeping an eye on the couple as he did. By the time he got to his Escort, Janet and Sean had arrived at a red Pontiac rent-a-car. Tom got into his car and started it while he watched Janet and Sean put their bags in the Pontiac’s trunk.

Robert Harris had been watching every move Tom Widdicomb made. He’d seen Sean and Janet before Tom had, and when Tom initially didn’t react, Harris had been disappointed, thinking that his whole “house of cards” theory was in error. But then Tom had spotted them and had scurried back to his Escort. In response Harris started his own car and drove out of the parking lot, thinking and hoping that Tom intended to follow Janet. At the corner of Twelfth Street he pulled over to the side of the road. If he were correct, Tom would soon be exiting, and Harris’s suspicion would be significantly reinforced.

Presently Sean and Janet drove by and turned north to cross the Miami River. Then, just as Harris expected, Tom came and turned in the same direction. Only a black limo separated Tom from his apparent quarry.

“This is looking more and more interesting,” Harris said to himself as he started to pull out. Behind him a horn blasted and Harris jammed on his brakes. A big green Mercedes missed him by inches.

“Damn!” Harris growled. He didn’t want to lose Tom Widdicomb and had to tromp on the gas pedal to catch up. He was determined to follow the man to see if he made any overt threatening gestures toward Janet Reardon. If he did, then Harris would nail him.

Harris was content until Tom turned west instead of east on the 836 East-West Expressway. As he passed Miami International Airport, then merged with Florida’s Turnpike heading south, Harris realized this was going to be a far longer trip than he’d anticipated.

“I don’t like this,” Sterling said as they exited Florida’s Turnpike at Route 41. “Where are these people going? I wanted them to go home or stay in crowds.”

“If they turn west up here at the next intersection, they’re on their way into the Everglades,” Wayne said. He was doing the driving. “Either that or they’re heading across Florida. Route 41 cuts through the Everglades from Miami to the Gulf Coast.”

“What’s on the Gulf Coast?” Sterling asked.

“Not much, in my book,” Wayne said. “Nice beaches and good weather, but it’s subdued. Naples is the first real town. There are also a couple of islands like Marco and Sanibel. Mostly it’s condo heaven with a lot of retirees. Pretty low-key, but high end. You can spend millions for a condo in Naples.”