Chapter 20—The Pills

Once they boarded the plane, Susan had a cup of hot tea, two ibuprofens, and curled up with a warm blanket next to Derrick.

“How are you feeling?” Derrick asked with a gentle voice.

She had endured so much last night, had gone hours without sleep, and her body was wracked with pain. But she didn’t want Derrick to know the extent of her injuries. All she said was, “My muscles are starting to tighten in my back. I’ll take another ibuprofen when we get home.”

Susan put her head back and shut her eyes. But Derrick wanted to talk. Talking about what Blaine had done to her would be difficult—her wounds were too fresh. It was comforting when he reached over and began to massage her neck.

“I have to wonder how you ever got involved with a guy like Blaine. You come from a village in a remote area. How in the world did you meet him?”

“My parents introduced me. It was crazy the way it happened—I almost didn’t go.” The words tumbled from Susan’s mouth as she remembered the day she’d met Blaine—the day that would turn her life into a nightmare.

“Blaine invited my parents to an upscale restaurant in Columbus. It was to be a business meeting to go over investment planning. My parents had asked me to join them. At first, I made up an excuse because I’d had a tough week at the library and wanted to stay home and curl up with a good book. But when they told me the restaurant was near Polaris Fashion Place, and we could go shopping before dinner, I decided to go.”

“It had been a good day. I went shopping at Macy’s and Barnes and Noble and looked forward to having a nice dinner. I was in a good mood when we went to the restaurant. Blaine was polite and well-spoken. He was eleven years older, and I suppose I was flattered by his attention. I wasn’t looking for a relationship—I was working long hours at the library, decorating my new condo, and illustrating a children’s book.”

“Blaine asked me out that night at dinner in front of my parents. I hesitated, and my mother invited him to dinner. That’s how it got started. Blaine was my first real boyfriend. I’d dated a little in college, but nothing serious. He wooed me with flowers and expensive restaurants. He was a perfect gentleman the whole time we dated. My parents loved him. It wasn’t until after we were married that I began to see another side of Blaine. He was controlling and secretive about his whereabouts.”

“Did you tell your parents?”

“Yes, and my father talked to him. Blaine downplayed his behavior. After my parents passed away, Blaine became abusive. At about that time—I found out about Blaine’s affairs—he was involved with several women. We went to marriage counseling, but it didn’t work because he lied and told the counselor the women were business acquaintances. However, Blaine was convincing, and the counselors believed him—one told me how lucky I was to be married to him.”

“We began to live separate lives. Blaine moved into the guest room. The abuse got worse, and when I went to work with bruises—I would lie and say I’d fallen. It was too humiliating to let my friends know what he did to me. Eventually, I confided in a couple of my friends. The last few weeks seemed interminable. Finally, I overheard a couple of telephone conversations that led me to believe my life was in danger. That’s when I knew for sure that Blaine wanted to kill me, and I started taping his conversations.”

“My neighbor, Shellie, had known about the abuse from the very beginning. She died—and shortly after that, the shoebox fell off the shelf. The shoebox didn’t fall off by itself. It was Shellie showing me that Blaine had killed his first wife. That’s when I called the psychic. And a couple of days later, I left.”

“And that’s when we met,” Derrick said with a smile.

Susan kissed him softly. “That’s when I started to live.”

Susan drifted off to sleep, her head on Derrick’s shoulder. It was over. She’d won the battle with Blaine.

Or so she thought.

When the plane touched down in Vegas, Susan couldn’t stand. Her muscles felt clamped in her lower back. Derrick’s sciatica had flared up, and he was having leg pain. It always happened during craps tournaments when he had to stand for hours.

It was Bruce who swept her feather-light body up in his arms and carried her to the limo. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I feel terrible that I’m causing everyone so much trouble.”

“It’s not a problem, Susan,” Bruce said. “You’re doing great. I’m proud of you.”

When they got to the house, Bruce carried her up to the bedroom.

Derrick found some pain pills he’d used a few months ago for an old injury, and it eased the pain enough for her to go to sleep. Susan slept soundly until she heard Maria knocking on the door. It was ten a.m., and Derrick was gone.

“I have your breakfast,” Maria called out.

“Thanks, Maria,” Susan said in a tired voice. “Come in.”

“You don’t look good,” Maria said. “You look pale and drawn. I’ll get Bruce. Maybe he can call a doctor.”

“I’ll be fine,” Susan said. “I just need a pain pill. Derrick gave me one earlier.”

Susan managed to limp to a chair and have breakfast, but her back pain was worsening. She looked around for the pills Derrick had given her but couldn’t find them. She hobbled into his walk-in closet, looking on a shelf where he sometimes put his wallet and at the end of the day, but there was nothing there. It was a huge closet and could have been a small bedroom. There was a safe on the wall, and the door was ajar. She peered into the safe, saw a small pill bottle, and picked it up and examined it. There was nothing written on the label, only a picture of skull and crossbones. She twisted the cap and peered inside. There were two small pills.

She jumped when a booming voice cried out, “What are you doing in the safe, Susan?”

Bruce grabbed the pills out of her hand.

“What’s wrong? I was looking for the pain pills that Derrick gave me earlier. Unfortunately, I’m still having pain.”

“They aren’t pain pills, Susan,” Bruce said. “They are very dangerous. You must never get in Derrick’s safe again.”

“It was open,” Susan stammered. “What are those pills?”

“I can’t tell you. It’s classified information.”

Bruce looked hard at her. “You didn’t take any of the pills, did you?”

“No. There was a picture of a skull and crossbones on the bottle. It looked like poison.”

Susan watched as Bruce’s face turned white. His hands were shaking as he set the pills back in the safe, shut the door, and turned the combination to lock it.

Susan limped as she tried to walk away, and Bruce put his arm around her to lend support.

“You scared the hell out of me. You need a doctor. Derrick has a doctor who makes house calls. I’ll get his number and call him.”

Susan’s eyes were wide as Bruce led her to the bed. She’d never seen Bruce so upset. She lay down and pulled up the comforter.

Bruce sat down on the bed with a look of concern. “It’s best not to mention what you found to anyone. Some things in this house are under lock and key for a reason. Do you understand?”

“I think so,” Susan said hesitantly. “Were the pills poison?”

“Yes. Sometimes our missions are dangerous. If the enemy captures us, we have the choice of taking take the pill, so we won’t give away classified information.”

Susan’s face registered shock. “The government wants you to kill yourself?”

“It’s a choice. What I just told you is highly confidential. You must never tell anyone what I told you.”

“Is it cyanide?” Susan asked.

“I’m not sure what it is—it could be a lot of things. It could be shellfish. There are chemists in the CIA who make the pills.”

Susan’s eyes grew wide. “You wouldn’t do it, would you, Bruce?”

“I might,” Bruce said, his expression stone serious. “It would be better than torture. They’re terrorists and would kill me anyway.”

She took his hand and pressed it to her cheek. “Oh, God, that’s horrible. It gives me chills thinking about it.”

“We never had this conversation, Susan. It’s classified information. You must never tell anyone. Of course, I’ll have to tell Derrick that you found the pills.” He paused. “I should tell you—there’s a room off the library that is always locked. It’s off-limits.”

Susan nodded. “What’s in there?” she asked in a small voice.

“Highly classified government information. Occasionally, we take jobs internationally.”

Susan looked at Bruce straight on, remembering what Blaine had told her. They are assassins. They kill people. “Bruce, you’re a good person…you’ve never tortured anyone, have you? I know you would never hurt anyone.”

Bruce dropped his eyes. “Of course not.” He took Susan’s hand and squeezed it. “Now get some rest. The doctor will be here soon.”

He rose to leave, but Susan hung tightly to his hand. She pulled him back.

“I need to know something,” she asked pointedly. “How many pills does the government issue in that little bottle?”

“I don’t know, Susan. It’s nothing that should concern you.” His eyes turned stern. “You have to forget about the pills. Put it out of your mind. You must never talk about it again. Do you understand?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. It was silly of me to bring it up.” Susan yawned. “I think I’ll get some rest now.”

Bruce’s expression told Susan he was weighing her words as if he didn’t believe her. “I’ll call the doctor,” he said. He turned and walked out the door.

Susan buried her head in the pillow. It bothered her that Bruce had not fessed up to how many pills had been in the bottle. She knew there was one person who knew—Blaine, but she couldn’t call Blaine. He was her enemy. Susan pounded the pillow out of frustration as she replayed Blaine’s words in her mind—Derrick’s wife died of a heart attack when they went to New York to a Broadway play, and it wasn’t an accident. He murdered his wife. Jenny died of a drug the government makes available to the military, FBI, Secret Service, CIA, and Navy Seals. They are drugs that stop the heart, similar to cyanide. Only the medication doesn’t show up in an autopsy.

A wave of uncertainty swept over Susan. The possibility that Blaine had told the truth entered her mind. It was cruel what he’d done throughout the years, telling her half-truths that made it impossible for her to decipher what was true and what was a lie. She needed Bruce. He was her crutch. She called out for him in a weak voice, and when he didn’t come, she managed to hobble across the room, down the long hall, then down the steps. She looked around, but Bruce was nowhere in sight. The pain was excruciating in her back and legs, but somehow, she managed to make her way to the library. That’s when she saw the door that was always locked—ajar.

Curiosity won over good sense. Susan looked over her shoulder, and when she was sure she was alone, she crept ever so quietly into the room—the room that had been kept secret—the room that was off-limits to her. She stared in awe at the monitors—sixteen of them, four in a row, on top of each other. She guessed it was a Command Center. There was no way actually to know. Her eyes scanned the tops of the cabinets, finally landing on a pile of papers.

The pain was horrendous as she sat down in the swivel chair in front of the monitors. She had to know if Blaine had told her the truth. Were the three men who she trusted hired assassins who butchered the enemy? Susan picked up the first paper on the pile and squinted at the military jargon. The writing was in code—she couldn’t make sense of it. Then, when she turned the page, she saw a picture of tiny tanks scattered all over what looked like a desert with mounds of sand interspersed. Tiny arrows pointed—going different directions. And there were miniature airplanes in the air. Was it a war game?

Susan heard footsteps and almost fell as she clumped into what she believed was a closet. It was pitch black, and the only light was coming from under the door. It was a large room with shelves full of boxes. Since she couldn’t see anything, she stood quietly and listened. Bruce was on the phone.

“I’m sorry we aren’t taking anything international right now,” Bruce said, his voice to the point. “No, I don’t know when we’ll be available.”

Susan was unable to stifle the sneeze. It was dusty. Bruce had to have heard her.

The door flung open, and she stood frozen, staring down the barrel of a Glock. Bruce had a look of immense agitation. It was unnerving, and she began to tremble.

“What the hell are you doing?” Bruce asked in a harsh voice.

“I was looking for you,” she said, her heart pounding.

“In the closet?”

“I heard footsteps, and I didn’t know who was coming. I knew Derrick would be angry if he found me in here.”

“What did you see?” Bruce asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Nothing.” She gestured with her hand. “I looked at the paper on top of that pile, but it was in code. Just a bunch of little tanks and people.” She grimaced. “You have to help me back to bed. I’m hurting so bad that I can’t walk.”

Susan heaved a sigh when Bruce swept her up in his arms.

“What do you do in there,” she asked in a hushed voice as he carried her up the steps.

“It’s top secret. You should not have gone into the room. And you must never go in there again.”

“Blaine said you massacre people,” she said. “You would never do that, would you?”

“Of course not. We help plan strategic missions and provide security to high-ranking government officials. I can’t tell you the particulars. Never ask again. You were never in that room. Do you understand?”

“But I heard you on the phone, and you said you weren’t going to take anything international. So why would you go to other countries? What did you do?”

“Shut up,” Bruce said, his voice stern, as he placed her on the bed. “You are going to get us both in a lot of trouble if you don’t leave it alone.”

Susan was taken aback by his tone. She grabbed Bruce’s hand and held it to her cheek, “I’m so sorry. Please don’t tell Derrick. I swear I didn’t see anything.”

Bruce’s voice was stern. “Listen to me, Susan. There are people who would kill you if they knew you’d seen that paper. It’s serious stuff. The government likes things secret.”

Susan’s lip began to tremble. Her voice filled with hysteria. “Is that what happened to Jenny? Did the government kill her? Did she go into the room, too?”

“Stop it, Susan,” Bruce commanded. “Your imagination is running wild. Susan died of a heart attack. Now let it go. Do you understand? Let it go.” Then he turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

Susan turned and buried her head in the pillow to muffle her sobs. She worried that she’d lost her best friend. Her first thought was to run. She wasn’t ready to go back to Brier Hill after such a horrible thing had happened. She was sure there was still blood on the floors. She could go to Savannah to be near her aunt. But, no, Blaine could find her. She had felt so safe with Derrick. If he found out—would he kill her? Had he killed Jenny?

Susan began to question her sanity. She lay with her eyes closed, trying to connect the dots. Blaine did this to me. He made it impossible for me to figure things out. There were too many lies. I must be crazy thinking that Derrick would kill anyone. He would never hurt anyone. He didn’t massacre anyone—Blaine did.

Susan jumped, and her eyes flew open when she felt cool fingers touch her cheek. Bruce was standing beside the bed. Susan reached out and grabbed his hand.

“Don’t leave me,” she said. “The pain is horrific, and I don’t know what Derrick is going to do when he finds out I’ve gone into the room. And you’re angry with me. I know you are.”

Bruce leaned in and kissed her softly on the cheek. “I am angry. I’m angry with myself because I care about you so much. I hope you understand that I have to tell Derrick.”

“Why?” Susan said. “You’re my best friend, and best friends have secrets, don’t they?”

“Not this time,” Bruce said. “Derrick sees everything. There’s a camera in the room.”

Susan twisted at her engagement ring—thoughts of leaving growing stronger.

“I should go,” she said. “I’m not what Derrick needs. I’m a lot of trouble to any man.”

“Damn your mid-West morality,” Bruce blared. “Stop letting rules and expectations run your life.”

“It isn’t that,” Susan protested. “I’m not normal. Living with Blaine for that long has made it impossible for me to make the right decisions. I’m not able to trust, and I think about old hurts and injustices. I wonder, why me? I can’t stop the feeling of wanting to run away every time something goes wrong.”

“Jack can help you, Susan. Go back to therapy.”

“It isn’t that easy. Maybe it would work if it were just Blaine and the bad marriage. But there’s so much more. I can’t get Jenny out of my head.”

“For Christ’s sake, don’t leave. I would miss you too much. You’re part of my life now.”

A flare of heat went through Susan’s chest. “I feel it, too. But I also feel damaged and broken.”

Susan kissed his hand.

“Don’t do that, Susan,” Bruce said. “Derrick is my best friend.”

“Can’t friends show affection?”

“No. I can’t handle it,” Bruce said, jerking his hand away.

“Maybe you need therapy, too,” Susan said, half-joking.

“Maybe I need to stop having lustful thoughts about my best friend's fiancé.”

A look passed between them, and then an awkward silence.

“I didn’t know,” Susan said, turning away to hide her tears.

Bruce gently took her shoulders. “I don’t want to add to those regrets.”

“You’re the best friend ever,” Susan said. “Friends are better than lovers. It isn’t so complicated.”

“Sure,” Bruce said, his expression dubious. “Hang tight. The doctor should be here any minute. I have to make a phone call.”

“I’ll be fine,” Susan murmured, praying he wouldn’t see her glistening eyes from both pain and the loss of a best friend. She knew she wouldn’t be okay. It would never be like it was before. Now she would be self-conscious of every move and word she said to him.

She slapped her hand over her mouth, alarmed at what she’d done: She’d casually grabbed his hand when they were in a crowded place, fed him bites of her food, hugged him. She had been overly affectionate. It had all been innocent. And now it would be awkward between them.

The pain of losing her friend was overwhelming—much worse than the pain Blaine had inflicted. Her entire body hurt. Blood pounded in her ears. Her hands clutched the sheets. Her thoughts were jumbled. I don’t have a best friend anymore. And where is the freaking doctor?

Tension and desperation filled her body as she waited, not knowing how Derrick would react to her being in the secret room.