Chapter 21—The Letter

The pain was excruciating from both the injuries Blaine had inflicted and the conflict she felt from allowing herself to suspect Derrick of such a heinous crime. Her head pounded as she analyzed the situation: Blaine was a pathological liar. Nobody was better than fooling people than Blaine. But she’d just found pills that could be cyanide in Derrick’s safe. Bruce had told her himself the pills were poison. Still, she couldn’t let herself believe that Derrick would murder Jenny. Wracking her mind—telling herself she needed something more substantial—she remembered the letters Blaine had written.

Tangled in bed linens, Susan threw them off, rolled out of bed, and hobbled to the closet. Trembling, Susan unzipped the carry-on bag and pulled out the letter, hidden under some clothes. She limped back to bed and opened the letter, afraid of what Blaine had written—her hands were trembling as she read the letter.

Dear Susan, I’m writing two letters in hopes that one of them will reach you. First and foremost, I love you. I’ve always loved you and would never do anything to harm you.

I did not kill Carol. After Carol died, I had reoccurring dreams about her death. My therapist told me to write down my thoughts and dreams. What you found—was a description of my dream. That’s all it was, darling. I know our relationship had been on a downward spiral for a long time, and I was going to tell you on our anniversary that I’d called a counselor. I wanted it to work, Susan, and would do anything in the world to have you back. You’re the only woman I’ve ever really loved. We had it all.

I didn’t fight you when you asked for a divorce. I gave you the divorce because I wanted you to be happy. A few weeks later, a friend of mine called and said he’d seen you at The Ranch in Henderson, Nevada. He said you were gambling, dressed differently, and had a new hairdo. I was worried. It didn’t sound like you. I went there to find you and was accosted by three men. They beat me up and threatened to kill me.

After I returned home—I investigated to find out who the men were. As it turned out, my friend knew Derrick Hampton. It seems that he and his two friends are involved in highly secretive plots with military commanders to eliminate terrorists. They use cruel and unusual tactics—torturing them for hours before they massacre them. They’re also very good at war games. They work with generals to wipe out entire battalions of men.

Derrick is one of the most dangerous men in the world. I talked to Jenny’s mother, Alice Kingston. She’s convinced that Derrick murdered her daughter and that the motive was money. Alice said they didn’t have a prenup—and Jenny had filed for divorce. She believes Derrick found out about Jenny filing for divorce. Jenny died on Saturday, and Derrick was served with divorce papers on Monday. Alice said that Jenny was having an affair with the owner of The Ranch and planned to marry him after the divorce was final.

I believe that Derrick gave Jenny a pill to stop her heart. The government issues cyanide and shellfish pills to Special Forces operatives and other military people who might give away classified secrets to the enemy if captured. I’m certain Derrick would have suicide pills in his possession, and when he found out about Jenny’s infidelity and plans to divorce him—he killed her.

I’ll tell you more when I see you. All I want is our anniversary celebration—just one more night.

I love you, Susan, Blaine Susan’s heart thundered. Had Blaine told her the truth? Or was it a half-truth? Her eyes widened at the possibility that he was telling the truth. No, it had to be a lie. All lies. The idea that Derrick was a trained assassin was preposterous. Blaine had tried to kill her. She shuddered, remembering his hands around her throat. Susan heard voices approaching and stuffed the letter under the comforter. She lay with her eyes closed as if she was resting.

“Susan,” Derrick said. “This is Doctor Yang.”

Susan opened her eyes, unable to look at Derrick, unwilling to see what his face held. Did he know that she’d been in the secret room? Her eyes settled on an Asian man of medium height, wearing a white coat. A stethoscope hung from his neck as if he’d just come from the hospital.

“Mr. Hampton tells me you hurt your back. How did it happen?”

“I missed a step coming down the stairs and fell,” she lied. Her wounds were much too fresh, and she couldn’t bring herself to tell the story. And she was raw with emotion from reading the letter.

“On a scale of one to ten—what is your pain level?” he asked.

“It’s a ten,” she moaned. “I can hardly move. It’s in the lower back.”

Derrick helped her stand, and she leaned into him while Dr. Yang examined her. The pain was excruciating.

“I think it’s muscular,” Dr. Yang said. “You’re having spasms. I have something that will give you immediate relief, but it will make you sleepy.”

Derrick helped Susan back into bed. She looked at the long needle and grimaced as Dr. Yang drew up the medication from a small vial.

Ouch,” she cried out. The injection had come with an unexpected sting.

“Sorry,” Dr. Yang said. “I’m leaving some pain pills for you, too. I’ll come by tomorrow and check on you. Get some rest. That works wonders for back pain.”

Susan nodded, her eyes heavy. Then everything went black.

Derrick was exhausted from only getting a few hours of sleep before the tournament. He pulled back the comforter, thinking he would take a nap before dinner. That’s when he saw the letter and snatched it up, wondering what a letter was doing in the bed. Curious, he sunk down in a comfortable chair and read the letter, scarcely believing what he was reading. He dashed downstairs and into the dining room, waving the letter.

“Read this,” Derrick said, hot with anger. He handed Bruce the letter, then paced back and forth. “This guy is good. Blaine planted this letter for the police. It wasn’t just for Susan. I know she read it because it was next to her under the comforter. She’s out like a light. And I have no idea what she’s thinking.”

Bruce shoved his plate aside, leaving a half-eaten steak. He could see that Derrick was visibly upset. He frowned as he read the letter. He shook his head and said, “Worse yet, I found Susan in the closet by the safe, holding a bottle of suicide pills.”

Derrick looked puzzled. “How did she get in the safe?”

“You must have been in a hurry this morning and didn’t shut it. She was looking for your pain pills.”

“Oh, my God,” Derrick said with a look of horror.

“I explained to Susan that the pills were dangerous, and she was never to get in the safe again. She said she hadn’t meant to look in the safe, but it was open, and she thought the pills that you gave her earlier might be there.”

“She has to wonder if I killed Jenny.”

“Blaine is convincing,” Bruce said. “Susan wouldn’t even file charges against him because she didn’t think a jury would believe her. I think Susan is past believing anything Blaine says. She’s on to his tactics.” Guilt gnawed at him. He had to tell him. “There’s more. I left the control room for a few minutes to grab a water, and when I got back, I found Susan in the room.”

“What the hell? You know you can’t leave the door unlocked. What did she see?”

“She picked up some papers, but they were in code. All she saw was a drawing of small tanks and planes. She asked me if we were assassins.”

“Susan is a smart woman,” Derrick said, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “She saw the drawing and read Blaine’s letter. I’m sure she’s connected the dots and has to be suspicious.”

“She was at first, but I convinced her otherwise. She’s fine. She’s afraid of what you might do to her because she was in the room.”

Derrick’s dark eyes clouded.

“What are you going to do?” Bruce asked nervously. “She saw a war game, but she doesn’t know how to decipher. So, as far as I’m concerned, she didn’t see anything.”

“It would kill me to do what I’m supposed to do,” Derrick said through clenched teeth. “Everything in that room is top secret information.”

“It’s my fault,” Bruce admitted. “I swear, she doesn’t know anything.”

Derrick breathed out deeply. “Okay, if you’re sure. But you’ll have to talk to her. Make sure she understands that she’s never to go into the room again. And she’s never to speak to anyone about it. If military intelligence finds out—it’s out of our hands. There’s no doubt in my mind they would hire a hit man to kill her.”

“They aren’t going to find out,” Bruce said, his voice strained. “We aren’t doing this anymore, right?”

“If the world were a kinder, gentler place, we wouldn’t have to do it,” Derrick said. “Do you think I like doing what we do?”

“Wait a minute,” Bruce said, stunned. “You haven’t agreed to another mission, have you? I’m ready for this to be over. The last time we went out of the country, you said it was our final mission.”

“And I meant it, but the generals think we’re indispensable. They can’t seem to let us retire. They’re in a pinch. They want another war game strategy for a mission. The good news is—we don’t have to go.”

“That’s great,” Bruce said, “because I’m not going back. It’s too damn hot there, and I’m not sleeping in a lousy tent. I’ll finish up this assignment, and it’s over for me.”

Derrick chuckled. “Where’s your enthusiasm? I thought you liked moving the tanks and planes around?”

“It isn’t that,” Bruce said, “sometimes the generals get nervous and want us to hold their hand. The problem is—the generals can’t agree on how to fight the war. If they could—it would have been over long ago. It’s taking longer because they’re asking for more scenarios—and it’s driving me fucking nuts.”

“Hey, it goes with the territory,” Derrick said. “You used to love war games.”

“I love the games, but not the generals. What’s going to happen if we only use air combat and forget the tanks? Why do we need so many tanks? Bruce mimicked.

Derrick wagged his finger at Bruce, smiling broadly. “But you love the robots, and they’ve promised more for the next mission. Because of us, the military has an entire battalion of robots—a small army at the ready.”

“It’s a lot easier to rebuild a robot than a man. Robots do what they’re told, they’re easy to program, and they can detect anything. We save hundreds of lives by sending in robots instead of men. I was at the robot facility a few weeks ago and was impressed by what they’re doing with social robots. They have artificial skin and are almost too human. People are donating their organs to robots. They even have robots with beating hearts.”

“It’s big,” Derrick said. “It’s the biggest thing the military has going—robots and drones. Men are going to fight wars sitting in a Command Center pushing buttons.”

“I don’t care what they do. I want out. We’ve served our country—and the government paid us well. We have more money than we can ever spend in our lifetime. I say we let someone else do it.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Derrick asked, his dark eyes flashing.

“I’m ready to settle down—buy a dog—enjoy my home,” Bruce said. “Maybe I’ll buy a social robot to keep me company.”

“That’s a good idea,” Derrick said. “Get me a robot, a humanoid—an Android—a good-looking chap. He needs to be programmed to find Susan anyplace in the house.”

“Are you joking?”

“No. I’m not joking, Derrick said. “I like the idea of knowing where Susan is at all times.”

“Isn’t that a little controlling? Why would you do such a thing?”

“Because my bodyguard can’t seem to keep track of her, even when they’re under the same roof. I guarantee you—a robot would not have let her get into the Control Center.”

Bruce was taken aback. He was noble and had a firm sense of obligation. Had he just been demoted? “My God, you’re not thinking of replacing me with a robot, are you?”

“No. The robot is an addition to our security system. Now finish up the assignment and close down the Control Center. Turn it into a wine cellar. Susan is much too curious, and I can’t take a chance on a breach in security.”

“The generals aren’t going to be happy,” Bruce said.

“I’m not worried about making them happy,” Derrick said. “You know how it goes—we either get out now while in good standing with the commanders or wait until there’s a screw-up. That’s when they’ll unceremoniously ‘chew us up and spit us out.’ Then they go on to fresh meat.” Derrick bit his lip. “We’re not even supposed to exist.”

After a steak dinner and a stiff drink, Derrick felt better. But he was anxious for Susan to wake up. Susan was easy to read. He would know right away if her feelings had changed for him. He had to know if she believed Blaine.

They called Max, and he came right over. He agreed with shutting down the Control Center. He’d lost interest long ago. After he read the letter, Maria brought Max’s dinner, and they sat at the dinner table, milling it over.

Max looked pensive. “Blaine said he wrote two letters. Where’s the other one?”

“I don’t know. Probably in Susan’s suitcase or her carry-on. She didn’t unpack last night,” Derrick said. “I should go check on her.”

The small desk light was on, and Derrick could see Susan’s chest rising and falling. Her face was calm. It looked like she was in a deep sleep and didn’t stir when he called her name. It bothered him that she’d been asleep for so long.

He lumbered back downstairs, his face pale with worry. “Call the doctor,” he said. “I want to know when the hell she’s going to wake up. An injection shouldn’t make someone sleep this long. She needs to eat and have something to drink. She’ll get dehydrated.”

“Relax,” Bruce said. “She was fine earlier. Let her sleep. She has to be exhausted.”

“Call the doctor,” Derrick demanded. He was a man who always got what he wanted, and he wanted Susan to wake up.

Reluctant, Bruce punched the number into his phone. It was ringing. A recording came on and said the office was closed and to call the Emergency Room if it was urgent.

Derrick paced the floor, muttering to himself.

A few minutes later, Max called out from upstairs. “She’s awake.”

Derrick approached Susan cautiously, uncertain, not knowing what she was thinking as she walked slowly down the stairs holding on to Max’s arm.

When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she looked dazed. “I’m so thirsty. I kept calling out, and nobody came.”

Derrick grabbed her and held her in his arms tight, relieved. Then he held her at arm’s length and gazed at her face. She loved him. He could see it in her eyes, but something was wrong. She looked fearful.

“Blaine wrote a letter,” she said in a choked voice. “He accused you of killing Jenny. Blaine has lied to me my entire marriage. He would say anything to ruin my life. He wrote two letters. I’m sure he was hoping the police would find one of them, but I have them both.”

“Let’s sit down and talk this over,” Derrick said, putting his arm around her waist and helping her into the living room.

Maria brought Susan a ginger ale, and she gulped it down and asked for another.

“I read the letter, honey,” Derrick said. “Blaine is a pathological liar planting seeds of destruction.”

Susan realized she was in an ignominious position. She should have been the one explaining. She gazed lovingly into Derrick’s dark eyes. “You don’t have to explain. I know you would never hurt anyone. You’re the most wonderful caring man I’ve ever known. I love you so much.”

Derrick heaved a sigh of relief.

They kissed—a heartfelt, soulful kiss that told him she loved him.

Susan looked at him somberly. “You should throw those pills away, Derrick. They’re dangerous.”

“I know. I’ll take care of it. I should have destroyed the pills years ago. They’re very old—from a mission.”

“Throw them away now,” Susan insisted. “You wouldn’t want anyone to find them and think you did something to Jenny. According to Blaine, her mother thinks you killed Jenny. The pills could be used as evidence against you. You need to get rid of them.”

Derrick shot Bruce a knowing look. “Take care of it, Bruce.”

“Done,” Bruce said, walking briskly out of the room.

“It must have been horrible for you,” Susan said sympathetically. “Jenny was having an affair with Daren right under your nose, and she had a serious drinking problem. Jenny was a heart attack waiting to happen.”

“When I saw the letter, I was worried that you might believe Blaine.”

“Blaine would do or say anything to ruin my life. He spent five years terrorizing me, and he’s still playing with my mind. That’s what psychopaths do. I’ve read about men like Ted Bundy and Jeffrey Dahmer. Women fell in love with Bundy even after he was incarcerated. They’re charming and convincing and play games with your mind. That’s what Blaine did to me. He told half-truths, making it difficult for me to process information. All I want to do is wipe out everything he said. I need to have therapy with Jack.”

“You don’t believe that I killed Jenny, do you?” Derrick asked, his dark eyes fierce as they searched Susan’s for a hint of suspicion.

“They’re all liars, you know—psychopaths.” Her voice was quivering. “I know you didn’t kill Jenny, Derrick,” she rambled. “It’s crazy talk.”

Derrick looked agitated. “Will you stop saying it? It’s like you’re trying to convince yourself that I didn’t kill Jenny.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that—it must be the medication.” She crossed her arms and rubbed them as if she was cold and trying to warm herself. “I’m not myself.”

Maria brought a tray with toast, yogurt, and ginger ale.

“Thank you, Maria. My stomach is queasy from the medication. Ginger ale always helps” She took a long swallow of ginger ale. “The injection helped the pain. I’m walking better.”

Derrick reached out and took Susan by the hand. “I’m sorry if I appear insensitive. You’re the only one who knows what happened between you and Blaine in the house. It sounds like he got to you a little bit. I’m on the outside looking in. Talk to me, honey. What did Blaine do to you in that house?”

Susan frowned. “It’s not pretty, Derrick. If I tell you everything, you might hate me.”

Derrick took her into his arms. “I love you. I could never hate you. I have to know.”