The Long Flight Home
      Chapter 9
 

A lost orchard is the memory of a friend
Wronged by life to death, who lies
Lifelike, but with unseeing eyes.
--Edgar Lee Masters

Rick was coming out of the shower, preparing for a long day of rounds and scheduled surgeries when Abby popped her head around the door. "Hey, honey, your pager just went off. Do you want me to get it for you?" she asked sleepily.

Rick paused before answering, loving to look at his wife. She was beautiful no matter what time of day, even with her hair sticking up at raw angles, and her make-up from yesterday, smeared all over her face. They had actually gone out for a night on the old town, only to have encountered the fury of the storm. To top it off, they had come home to a blackout that had wrecked havoc with all their appliances, including their electronic clocks and their answering machine. They'd giggled their way through the house like a couple of teens, pausing to make-out on the stairs before ending up in their bedroom. It had been freeing, acting so spontaneously.

Clearing his mind of his lusty thoughts, and smiling a wicked look at his wife, he asked her to please bring him his pager. Hopefully, this was a page from Michelle. Before going out for the evening they had had a message from her saying her flight from Spain had been delayed, and she didn't have any idea when she'd be in. She told them when she could, she'd page them to let them know she was in town. She must be exhausted, he thought. Good thing she was young, a few hours sleep, and she'd be ready to face life with her usual gusto. He'd hoped this time away would have given her much needed down time to help her figure out her future. She'd dropped her career plans when things with Jesse had heated up. He got angry about it, just reliving her decision, to stay in Springfield and study at Springfield U. "Move away from those thoughts, buddy boy!", he admonished himself. Whatever decisions Michelle had come to, he had to abide by them. She was no longer his thirteen year old kid sister in pigtails. She had grown up into a lovely, caring and beautiful person, both on the inside and out.

Abby startled him when her arms stole round his bare chest, tangling in the mat of hair there. She nuzzled a kiss on his back before handing him his pager. Giving her a little growl, he took the pager to see the number. It was one he didn't recognize right off the bat, so he went to dial it immediately. It wasn't the hospital, which gave him cause for relief, at least their was no life or death situation hanging over his head this morning. He dialed the number and was surprised to hear Frank Coopers voice on the end. The connection was full of static and echoes, and Rick found it hard to hear Frank. His stomach literally fell away when he heard the words, Michelle, and accident. He quickly sunk to the bed, his face going pale. Abby was alarmed at his pallor and went to sit next to him. She listened to his short responses in obvious answer to questions from whoever was on the other end of the phone. She didn't get the whole gist of the conversation, only hearing the deep sighs in Rick's voice.

When he hung up the phone, Rick turned to Abby with a shimmer of tears in his eyes. "What is it honey, tell me", she begged.

Choking out a response, Rick answered, "It's Michelle. Abby, she's been found in the wreckage of a fatal car accident. I don't know all the details, but we've got to get to the hospital." The paramedics are working on her right now, and they are going to transport her soon. I want to be there when they bring her in. I want to make sure the best specialists we have, are on call." Emergency situations normally gave Rick a rush. He loved the challenge of meeting a difficult situation head on, and quickly finding solutions, in the midst of a crisis. He was trained to respond on his gut instinct, and often times he had only a matter of seconds to make a decision that might mean life or death to his patients. Now, he was immobilized by dread. He knew he should rush, but he couldn't seem to move. His limbs felt heavy, and he couldn't think straight.

Holding on to him tightly, he and Abby sat for a few moments in a world of shock, then, moved by sheer will, they silently dressed and left their home, just as the sunrise was streaking the sky with it's pink shot through golden light. It was a glorious sight. It was as if the sins of the night were washed clean by the storm, and the new day was pure. Heading quickly to the hospital, Abby and Rick never noticed the beauty of the morning sky that surrounded them. He frantically called in all the favors ever owed him to assemble the finest of his colleagues to attend to Michelle. His adrenaline was now running at fever pitch. As their car sped through the sparse early morning traffic, he and Abby moved closer to the unknown, with trepidation and fear.

Frank was sick with panic. This was little Michelle, one of the sweetest of God's creations to ever walk this earth. She didn't deserve this, not her. She was an innocent. He watched the paramedics work, as if in slow motion. Time seemed to have come to a standstill and he looked on the horrific tableau as if he was out of step with time. "We have a pulse", he heard. "It's weak and thready." "Start an IV drip." "She's non-reactive." "Let's get her the hell out of here." All these snippets of conversation reached his mind, jumbled and half-perceived. He wanted this nightmare to end. He couldn't stand to see her seemingly lifeless body, crushed and battered. He had to turn away lest his emotions overtook him.

There was no question now that he would follow the paramedics to the hospital. He wasn't going to let Michelle out of his sight. Rick would want him to be with her, watching over her as they made their way to the hospital. He'd have to send one of his men to the Santos home now. There was no way that he wanted to have to talk with them this morning. He could do a follow-up later today, as soon as he knew Michelle's condition was stable. One thought kept running through his mind: What in God's name was Michelle doing in a Limo that belonged to the Santos family, and how was she connected with the suspected murder victim? There were so many questions, and he was frustrated that he had no answers. He hoped that he would be able to speak to Michelle soon.

As the stretcher was brought up the steep rock strewn bank, he followed, and spoke with the officer on scene. He asked him to radio in a request for someone to go to the Santos compound. He knew that the news his officers would impart would no doubt be a shock to them, but they were the last thing on his mind right now. In fact he didn't really give a damn about their pain. He only cared for his own. The Santos's of this world were vermin, and if there was one less, than so be it! As the doors of the rescue unit closed and it pulled away with lights flashing, he jumped into his car, following it down the still glistening streets towards Cedar's, and the waiting arms of her family.

Danny had traversed the route to the airport and back, looking anywhere and everywhere for signs of Pilar and Jimmy. He found nothing. His panic of earlier had settled into a massive ache in his chest. He didn't want to think the thoughts that hovered in the furthest reaches of his mind. As much as he didn't want to drag the cops into his family business, somehow he knew they might eventually become involved. He had other contacts and should probably use them, but he wanted to find Pilar, now. She would never have intentionally worried himself, or Mama, unless she was unable to contact them herself.

Swinging his car around, Danny made the decision to go to Cedar's. He didn't want to face the possibility that he might find Pilar there, but he couldn't ignore the signs staring him in the face. He would go to Cedar's to see if any accident victims had been brought in, in the last few hours. If she had been in an accident, Cedar's was a top notch trauma center. His family had made a hefty donation to the building of the trauma wing, and he knew the caliber of the doctor's who worked within it's facilities. Hoping against hope, his car moved swiftly through the near empty streets of the city, a prayer hovering on his tongue.

When the rescue unit arrived at Cedar's, the trauma center became a beehive of hovering activity. It was organized chaos, every player in position, ready to do his or her job to their greatest ability. They lived by the clock here, where success was measured by the swiftness and accuracy of their diagnosis. Rick hovered at the entrance to the Emergency room, sucking in his breath as Michelle was wheeled in. He tried to follow her into the examining room, but he was held back by one of the nurses at the front desk. She'd been so pale, and had looked so helpless. He was in agony, as he listened to the head of the trauma team order various x-rays and tests. He heard them call her name, hoping to elicit some type of response from her, but she remained unresponsive. From the little bits of conversation he heard, the news was not good. Reaching out to Abby, he clung to her, trying to draw strength from her own quivering body. They didn't notice the disheveled man who had walked into the Emergency room entrance doors, but someone else did.

Frank was astounded to see Danny Santos in the Emergency room of all places. He wondered if his men had already visited the Santos home and imparted the bad news about the suspected murder scene. Leaving Abby and Rick, he made his way over to the front desk where Danny was speaking to the admitting clerk. As he neared the desk, he heard Danny ask if any young woman had been brought in, in the last few hours. He was in the middle of explaining his situation when Frank strode up to him.

"What are you doing here Santos? Have you come to ID the body from the wreckage?, he asked point blankly.

Half turning at the familiar voice, Danny was surprised to see Det. Frank Cooper standing behind him. Hatred poured off of Frank as he looked at Danny Santos's rumpled appearance, and blood shot eyes. Frank's comment was only beginning to sink in.

"What did you say?", he half-whispered.

With a leering smile Frank asked him again, "If you're here to identify the body of the young woman from the wreckage of the Limo registered to your family, then you're in the wrong place. The morgue is downstairs."

Danny swayed, clutching the counter of the front desk as if it was his the only thing keeping him from plummeting to certain darkness. He couldn't make his lips move, there was a strange buzzing in his ears, and a blackness had settled over his eyes. He couldn't see. He couldn't breath. He felt his grasp slipping on the counter. He held on tenaciously until the blackness began to recede. He tried to focus on the face of the detective, but his vision was still obscured. From somewhere, a strong arm steered him to a chair, and someone pushed his head between his knees. They urged him to take slow, deep breaths. Slowly, he started to become aware of his surroundings again, of where he was, and of what was being said to him. As he raised his head, he tried to make sense of what Frank Cooper had told him. Someone forced a cup of water in his hand and told him to take a drink. His hands were shaking so badly that the water sloshed out the sides. A firm hand took the cup from him, and then there was silence, a silence so deafening that he thought he might go mad. As he stumbled to his feet, and headed towards the bank of elevators, he heard someone call him to wait, but he never stopped, and he never looked back.

As the elevator doors opened, he staggered in, turning to punch the basement button. He concentrated on lifting his head up, and when he did he caught the stare of Frank Cooper. He thought he saw a flicker of compassion in his eyes, but then the doors slid closed and he was alone with his desolation. He slowly slipped to the floor of the elevator, the words "body", "young woman", and "morgue" flowing through his mind in an ever dizzying rush, until the words were blurred, and he could recognize them no more.