Read Black Monday, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 7 Page 27

  Chapter 27

  THE GATES OF HEAVEN

   

  There was a dense fog all around me. I could see the sun ahead through the fog. It was drawing me toward it. Then I saw a woman on the side of the road in front of an easel painting a portrait. She had long dark hair. She turned and looked at me. I didn't recognize her at first but she looked familiar—such beautiful lips. It had been so long since I'd seen lips like those. Then I recognized her—it was Rita. She was staring at me, measuring me, like I was an inanimate object. I walked over to her and looked at her painting. I saw myself—a magnificent portrait of me in a full dress Marine Corps uniform.

  She said, "So soon. I thought my wait would be much longer." A tear flowed down her cheek.

  "Rita? Is that you?"

  She stood up and embraced me. "Yes, my love. I've been here waiting for you to join me. I'm so glad you finally made it."

  "Where are we?"

  "We are at the gates of heaven. They wouldn't let me in without you."

  "Why? Why wouldn't they let you in?"

  "I committed a mortal sin when I took my life. But since I did it for you, they said I could wait here for you and that—well, maybe, maybe we could go in together."

  "Maybe?"

  "Yes, they said we would be judged together and if we met God's test, we'd be admitted through the gates."

  "And if we didn't?"

  Her eyes suddenly turned a brilliant red and her skin began to disintegrate before my eyes. I let her go and stumbled back as she turned into a hideous monster.

  "We would burn in hell, together!" the monster screamed.

  "No! Get away!" I moaned as I sat up in my hospital bed.

  Rebekah nearly jumped out of her skin. "Stan, Stan. It's okay," she said as she embraced me. "Nurse! Nurse!"

  "Rebekah?" I began to cry and shake as I embraced her. "What happened to me? Where am I?"

  "You're in the hospital, honey. There was an explosion. You nearly died."

  Sharp pain ripped through me. I gasped.

  "Nurse!" Rebekah yelled. A nurse came running in the room. "He woke up. He's in pain. Tell the doctor."

  "Yes, ma'am,” she said and ran out of the room."

  "You've got some broken ribs and nice concussion. You've been unconscious for nearly ten hours."

  Rebekah laid me back in my bed. The pain had subsided, so I was able to talk.

  "Am I going to be okay?" I asked.

  "Yes, now that you're awake. They were worried about the concussion. There could have been brain damage, but you seem to be lucid. How do you feel?"

  "Tired. I'm so tired."

  "It's the pain medication, rib injuries are very painful so they've kept you pretty heavily medicated."

  "Where are the kids?"

  "They're in the waiting room. I'll go get them."

  "Good. I want to see them."

  The doctor walked in as Rebekah was leaving. He smiled at me.

  "Well, you finally woke up. How do you feel?" he asked.

  I shrugged. "Glad to be alive."

  He nodded, then poked around my face and shone a small flashlight in my eyes. After making a few notations on my chart he got up and said, "Your eyes look clear. Do you remember what happened to you?"

  I thought back a moment and replied, "The last thing I remember was falling on top of a car—it was black, I think. Then the lights went out."

  "Before that," a voice said from behind the doctor. It was Detective Besch. He walked up next to the doctor. "What made you run?"

  "The windshield exploded just before I got to the car," I replied. "I just naturally turned away and started to run for cover."

  "Yes, it appears someone shot out the windshield. The bomb was a very sophisticated device triggered by a motion detector. We found remnants of it at the crime scene. Whoever shot out the windshield of your car saved your life. Did you see anyone?"

  "No. . . . Who would have been capable of planting that type of bomb?"

  "The mob perhaps—more likely the military or the CIA.

   "Oh, God. I shouldn't have given the FBI the money."

  "You're right. When you went to the FBI, whoever was behind this knew you weren't playing ball."

  "Wonderful. Now what do I do?"

  The door flew open and Marcia ran up to me. She threw her arms around me and began crying hard. "Daddy. Why did they try to kill you?"

  Tears began flowing out of my eyes. Peter squeezed in and put his arms around me, too. Everyone was crying. Rebekah said, "Kids, one at a time. Daddy can't hug you all at once.” Reggi grabbed Peter by the shoulder and pulled him away.

  "It's okay," I said. "It's okay."

  Detective Besch and the doctor left as the room wasn't big enough for everyone. Besch said he'd come by the next day to see me. The doctor told Rebekah not to stay too long as I needed rest. After the kids had calmed down, I tried to explain to them why someone wanted to kill me. Reggie and Mark seemed to understand, but Marcia and Peter just shook their heads. I tried to change the subject.

  "So, my Corvette's toast, huh?"

  "Yes, I'm afraid you're going to have to get a new car."

  "I wonder if the insurance will pay for it?"

  "I don't know," Rebekah said.

  "What kind of car are you going to get," Reggie asked.

  "I don't know. Maybe a 300ZX."

  "Oh, that would be cool!" Mark said. "Have you seen the control panel in those suckers? It looks like you're in a space ship."

  "Yeah, it is pretty neat, isn't it?"

  "Can I drive it?" Reggie asked.

  "Hmm," I moaned. "I haven't even got it yet."

  Rebekah stood up and said, "Okay, it’s time to let Daddy rest. I'm going to take you kids home. Grandma and Grandpa want to visit him for a minute before we leave. Rebekah looked at me and said, "I didn't call your mother. I was afraid she'd jump on a plane and fly out here. It would have been—"

  "It's okay," I said. "You had your hands full. I understand."

  After I had visited briefly with Rebekah's parents, she left and I thanked God that I had survived. I wondered if I had done the right thing in trying to find Huntington. I could have been killed and my children left fatherless. I was torn between my professional duty to my client and my profound desire to stay alive. Should I give up my search for Huntington? That would be the safe thing to do, yet did I have that choice? My heart told me no. I couldn't let my enemies deter me from doing what was right.