"Mom, why do we have to go there?" Chelsey complained, as she trotted down the street after her mother. "You know he hates me. He hates everyone who visits him!"
Her mother turned around: "Oh, honey, you know that’s not true. Dr. Jenks doesn’t want to hurt you, he just wants to see your teeth healthy."
"He doesn’t," insisted Chelsey. "Why would he become a dentist then? Just to torture kids!"
Angela stopped and squatted in front of her daughter: "Chelsey, please, behave. We go to Dr. Jenks only twice a year and all he does is to check your teeth!"
"And what about pulling out a tooth last year?" the girl couldn’t be convinced.
"This was a bad tooth, it had to be pulled out. Chelsey, please!"
"Okay," she sighed resignedly and added under her breath: "How hard it’s to live when you’re five years old!"
Angela hid her smile.
"Mom, do we have to wait long?" Chelsey complained as they were already sat in the reception room. "I hate the sounds around me!"
Angela looked around, searching some kind of distraction and finally found it: "Just look at this little girl over there!" She pointed to a small dark haired child, smiling at a tall pretty woman sitting next to her. "She doesn’t seem to mind the sounds."
"Oh well," Chelsey did as if she wouldn’t mind but actually cast a look at the girl and shouted: "Hi, Leeny!"
Both the girl and the woman looked up, smiling.
"Mom," Chelsey faced Angela, "let’s go over there, it’s Colleen Donner, I know her from the day group."
"Hello," as they approached Colleen and her mother, the pretty woman smiled, "aren’t you Chelsey Leons?"
"I am," admitted Chelsey, happy that the woman knew her name, "and that’s my Mom."
"Hi, Mom," her voice sounded amused, "I’m Lindsay Donner."
"I’m actually Angela," she replied, a bit put out by the friendliness.
"Hi, Chels," little Colleen greeted the new comer and turned to Lindsay: "Mom, may I go and play with Chelsey?"
Lindsay smiled fondly: "As if you actually do what I say. Of course you may, just make sure you don’t take some of the doctor’s equipment like you did last time."
Angela raised her brows: "She took doc’s stuff?"
"Oh yes, she did, there was such a turmoil here! Goodness, I thought I’d kill this child," but her eyes indicated the very opposite of what she said.
This woman seems to be constantly amused of something, Angela thought.
"How old is your Colleen?"
"She’ll be three in three months," replied Lindsay.
"She looks older."
"Yes, she does. I guess that’s my fault. I’ve got too little time for her and she does her best to become my companion already now. The sooner the better."
"And your husband?" Angela asked.
"I’m not married," it sounded as easy as everything else about Lindsay.
"I see," Angela said.
"You don’t," shrugged Lindsay, "but I guess it’s okay. That’s how people normally react. Though I thought it were a free society."
"Oh, I mean…I…"
"Believe me, it’s all right," smiled Lindsay, "it is. Let’s talk about nicer things. Like what does your husband do?"
"Chuck’s a manager," Donner could see Angela was quite proud of her husband, "Chelsey dotes on him. She told me she’s going to be a manager as well."
"A nice job," confirmed Lindsay.
"And what do you do?"
"I’m working for a scientific organization OSIR as a Senior Data Analyst. Originally I left Oxford as a biologist."
"Aha," Angela was impressed. "I used to work as a typist but then Chelsey was born and Brad and Patrick. So I thought it would be better to stay home."
"Oh, yes, kids need attention, but I’m quite fond of taking Colleen with me to work. She’s the absolute star there."
"I can imagine, I don’t know a thing about such organizations but I think that kids are rarely allowed there. Doesn’t she create problems there?"
"Yes, from time to time but even my boss closes his eyes at her behavior."
Angela looked at Lindsay and wondered what else every boss she knew would forgive such a woman. And her charming daughter.
"Chelsey Leons, the doctor’s expecting you," a friendly woman in her fifties went out of the door.
"Oh, damned," Chelsey looked at Colleen, helpless, "I hate the doctors!"
"See it as a kind of play," Colleen proposed.
"I can’t. You’re lucky you can do that!"
"Not lucky, try to be an optimist."
Chelsey shot Colleen an admiring look. Then walked over to Angela: "Mom, it’s my turn."
"Of course, darling," the woman stood up. "It was very nice to meet you, mm… Lindsay."
"Same with me. Greet Chuck, Brad and Patrick from me!"
While Angela took her daughter’s hand and headed the dentist’s room she wondered how Lindsay managed to remember all the names she mentioned. There was something about her. But she couldn’t tell what.
"Mom, d’you think we can go home?" Colleen asked. Lindsay looked at her fondly. Chelsey was gone and her lively daughter was again bored.
"We can’t, lovey, you know we’ve promised Dana to wait for her."
"But so long? She’s a big girl, Mom, she’ll cope!"
"I know you don’t mean that, lady," Lindsay did her best to look strict but failed like she always did when trying to control her daughter. "Dana’s spent to many hours playing with you!"
"Okay, I feel guilty," Colleen climbed at Lindsay’s lap and started examining the earrings her mother put on. "They’re good."
"They are indeed. But please don’t pull my ears. Otherwise I’ll look like an elephant once you’re finished."
Colleen burst into laughter. Lindsay joined her, imagining what it would look like if she really had that big ears.
"You can be laughing all right," Dana sped out of the room, holding her cheek, "but pulling out a molar is not very funny for me."
"Oh, honey, I’m sorry," Lindsay softly put her daughter down and hugged Dana Praeger, who indeed looked very miserable.
"I’m also sorry," Colleen repeated, like always trying to do things exactly the way her mother did.
Dana smiled at them: "That’s me who’s got to be sorry. I’m a cry baby."
"You aren’t," reassured her Lindsay, "I can remember how it hurt when I had to see through the ordeal."
"Let’s get out of here," Dana proposed, "the place gives me the creeps."
"Sure, do you want to go home or perhaps at mine? Colleen’s got a new jigsaw puzzle."
"No, I’ll be better off in my room, licking the wounds. But thanks for asking anyway," she added, "and for coming here with me."
"No probs, hon, just ask."
In fifteen minutes Lindsay stopped her Ford in front of Dana’s house.
"Mom will be furious I got rid of the tooth," Dana grinned. "But Dad said it’s okay. And you said the same."
"I did. I think you’re old enough to decide for yourself what you want or not," Lindsay shrugged.
"Thanks," Dana was always grateful to Lindsay for this friendship. She felt she could talk to Lindsay about everything in the world, she didn’t trust that much neither her father nor her mother though it was may be wrong. But Lindsay didn’t sound as old as her parents, it was more like having an older sister who gave helpful advice and solved the problems.
"See you later then," Lindsay waved and accelerated. Colleen and Dana kept on waving each other till Colleen couldn’t make out the house.
"Mom, will I be as big as Dana?" Colleen asked suddenly.
"Of course you will, darling," Lindsay cast an amused glance into the rearview mirror. Colleen has freed herself from the baby seat and the seat belt: she loathed them both and no matter how often Lindsay talked to her about her safety, Colleen kept on unfastening the belt and creeping out of the seat.
"Know what, Colleen, you just make sure that for the rest of the way you spend belted."
"Mom!" there was an indignant wail.
"Now do as you’re told otherwise I won’t talk to you."
"Mom!" Colleen tried once more but resigned after seeing the expression on Lindsay’s face.
"You don’t like me," the girl said reproachful, fumbling with the belt.
"I do, sweetie, believe me, that’s exactly why I ask you to fasten the seat belt."
"You don’t. If you did, then you’d hug me."
Lindsay smiled and with a jerk pulled the car to the standstill to the roadside. Then she got out and swooped Colleen up from the seat. Colleen laughed.
"So, still thinking of your Mommy as a monster?" she smiled and kissed the girl.
"No," Colleen hugged her mother tightly. "I don’t."
But when Lindsay put her back to the car and belted, she added thoughtfully: "But I still hate the belt."
Lindsay hid her smile. The kid was a treasure!
"Now you’ve got this piece wrong therefore you can’t go on with the picture!" Lindsay explained, kneeling down her daughter and showing her the jigsaw on the floor.
"Yes, but it did look so right!" Colleen complained, her cheeks flushed with concentration.
"Things are not always what they seem to be," Lindsay said, at the same time trying to remember who told her these words. The bell rang.
"It’s Pete, I’ll let him in!" Colleen was out of the room before Lindsay could say anything else. Her small feet noisily tapped on the floor. Lindsay smiled: Colleen was a dear though sometimes Lindsay wondered whether it could be possible to manage this kid in five years.
"Mom," the girl was back, looking put out and worried.
"Yes, honey, what’s wrong?" Donner rushed to her daughter. "What’s happened?"
"It’s not Peter at the door, Mom. It’s a man who says he’s an old friend of yours," Colleen wasn’t shattered easily but now she looked as if she were to cry every minute.
"Well, let’s see who it is," Lindsay made a step towards the corridor, questioning herself whether the stranger could be Elsinger.
But as she reached the entrance door, she saw a tall dark haired man and in the same moment she stiffened a cry.
"I’m sorry I’ve frightened the kid," he smiled sadly. "And that I’ve scared you. But I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long!"
"Connor!"
Colleen watched with surprise how her mother let go of her hand and within a second was hugging the stranger. She was sobbing and Colleen could see that the stranger whom her mother called Connor also had tears in his eyes.
"God, I thought I’d never see you again!" finally Lindsay calmed down enough to talk.
"I’ve told you that I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Lindsay. Have you got some time? I have to talk to you."
She stared into his blue gray eyes so dear and familiar she couldn’t help crying. Then she remembered Colleen.
"Connor, this is Colleen, my daughter," she met his gaze with the stare he has missed so much.
"She is exactly like you," he said and squatted in front of the girl: "Hi, Colleen, will you forgive me scaring you?"
"I’m not that easily scared, Mr. Connor," replied the girl indignantly. "But you gave me the creeps."
He smiled: "You don’t only look like your Mom, you sound the way she does!"
"Come in, Connor," free of the first shock Lindsay became her old busy self again.
"Of course."
He entered the room and saw that almost nothing has changed. The furniture was the same, only a few toys and the big jigsaw puzzle gave away Colleen’s presence. He wished that he and Lindsay stayed the same too. She didn’t change much: the same good looks, warm smile but there was sadness lurking in the corners of her usually smiling mouth, big gray eyes. He felt he had changed as well. Only usually so tactful, Lindsay wouldn’t comment on it.
"Lindsay, I’ve got to tell you something. To explain."
"No need, Connor. I’m glad just having you around. There’s no explanation needed. Not now."
"You don’t understand, Lindsay. I’m married."
"You’re what?" she span around, suddenly as pale as a sheet. "You don’t mean it, do you?"
"I’m sorry, Lin. Please, listen to me. Let me tell you about Rebecca. How it happened."
"No, Connor," her voice was flat, her eyes dead and empty. "I wish you all the best with Rebecca."
"Lindsay, it’s not what you think…" he started.
"No? but it’s a marriage, isn’t it? Is it why you were far away for so long? To marry? God, how could I have been that stupid?"
"Mommy, who’s that?" Colleen asked. She didn’t like the way her mother looked now. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
"A friend," Lindsay replied coldly. "An old friend of mine."
"Lindsay, I…" at this moment his mobile rang. Connor listened to the person for a while. "Of course I’ll be there. Till later."
"It was she, wasn’t it?" Lindsay sounded bitter. He looked at her, wishing things were different. Wishing he could hug her, tell her how much he loved her. But he couldn’t.
"What are you waiting for, Connor? She expects you to turn up. So hurry on."
"Lindsay, one more question. The last one. Are you married?"
She looked scornful: "What have you thought, Doyle? I’m not. I couldn’t marry because I’ve been waiting for a miracle to happen. How foolish I was!"
He turned around and headed for the door. He longed to turn back, say that all was a terrible mistake but it wasn’t a dream. There was Rebecca waiting for him. He couldn’t change the past.
Lindsay saw him walk away and fought to hold back tears. Every part of her body and mind was aching to stop him. How could she? He has made his choice. Too much harm done already. This was even worse than it used to be. To find him and to lose again.
"Colleen ," she sobbed quietly, holding her daughter, "what have I done wrong?"
Connor hurried down the street, avoiding looking into the faces of surprised people around him. It wasn’t until he stopped at a traffic light that he understood, he was actually running. The visit turned out exactly the way he has feared: Lindsay would have forgiven anything – everything – but not betrayal. Which was what he had done. Unwillingly, having no other choice but it was a betrayal. He closed his eyes and was back in Lough Erin.
The acute pain and the burning inferno around him was gone. As Connor opened his eyes he saw a white ceiling. He turned his head to the right, which cost him an effort and saw a window with white starched curtains. The blinds were drawn so he couldn’t say what the weather was like or whether it was night or day. Another powerful effort was to look to his left. There he saw a dark headed woman, bending over her knitting.
For a moment she didn’t move, then she turned and smiled at Connor: "Hi, it was just about time you woke up, darling."
Almost immediately the memories came crushing back. Elsinger, his snaky smile, saying: "Connor, you’d better watch out, we don’t know what the creatures are like."
Peter: "Connor, let me help. We’ll get out."
And then Lindsay: "Connor, please, don’t go. Don’t." Her gray eyes darkened with worry, the lovely face distorted with pain. She didn’t want him to go. If only I could tell her I’m okay… Connor pulled himself together but still couldn’t manage to rise on his bed.
"I have to tell Lindsay," he whispered.
"Everything as long as you stay quiet," the woman said still smiling.
"I don’t want to stay quiet, I want to get back to team," he tried.
But she shrugged: "If you don’t stay where you are, darling, you’ll get seriously injured."
"Who are you?" Connor asked. He was quite sure he has never seen the woman before.
"My name’s Rebecca Doyle."
"Doyle?" he was flabbergasted.
"Of course. And you’re Connor, aren’t you?"
"How do you know?"
"Very simple: you’re my husband."
"What?" Connor jerked up and exhausted fell back on the pillow. "Married? Of all people to you?"
"Yes, darling. But of course you are. You just don’t remember it. I can understand: I thought that I’ve lost you six years ago but looks like you’ve returned to me."
"Six years? What are you talking about?" Connor had a sinking feeling that all the control was slipping away from him.
She stood up and left the room. However very soon she reappeared, carrying a calendar. Connor looked at the date and gasped: "God, it can’t be true!"
"But it is. I know, it’s a shock for you but I’m quite sure you’ll recover very soon and we’ll have a wonderful time together."
"Ok," he finally agreed, "I understand that I’ve disappeared six years ago, presumed dead. What I don’t understand is how I can be your husband. I’ve been married only once, my wife and my baby daughter died back then."
"We didn’t have any children, Connor, but you must be confused," she interfered quietly.
"No, I’m not confused. I’m Connor Doyle, I’ve been working for OSIR and if I would marry again – it would be only one woman. I’m sorry, but it’s not you. Her name is Lindsay Donner."
"Sounds American," was the stranger’s comment.
"She is American. Just as I am."
"You are not, darling. You’re Irish, just like me. And I’ve never heard of OSIR."
"Irish?" a horrible realization dawned on him. "You mean, I’m in Ireland now?"
She nodded.
"Oh damned," that was all Connor could manage. He rarely swore but this time he couldn’t help it. "Damn Elsinger, how could this swine do it? I wish I could kill him?"
"Whom?" Rebecca looked scared.
"Oh, never mind. I’ll see to it as soon as I feel better."
"Don’t sound so cross, Connor, darling, it’s so unlike you!"
Connor wondered how she could know him that well.
Rebecca stood up: "So I’ll leave you now, you must have some sleep, you are exhausted. But I’ll come back later."
She exited the room before Connor could raise any objections. He stared out of the window but not even sunshine – Rebecca opened the blinds to a bright day – could cheer him up. How did he come to Ireland? Why was he here? Was that another dirty trick Elsinger tried to get rid of him? No, that was unlikely. As far as Connor knew Elsinger would not stop at just sending him away, but would try to kill him at all costs. Then there had to be another explanation. However, Connor could think of none. He wished he had enough strength to get out of bed and go to call his team. But even to turn his head was an effort. So he remained lying, staring at the whitewashed ceiling and thinking of his team. Thinking of Lindsay…
"Connor, how do you like the new curtains?" Rebecca didn’t smile at him, but frowned. "You don’t like them. I see."
"Rebecca, it’s not that I don’t like them," usually he was quite patient with her but seeing Lindsay made him feel vulnerable and angry," I just don’t feel like discussing such useless stuff."
"Useless stuff?" she exclaimed. "What do you mean by "important" stuff then?"
"You won’t understand, Rebecca," he shrugged, feeling tired.
"What do you mean?" now she too, was furious.
"It’s about real feelings, Rebecca, between two people, right?" Connor exited the room.
"Wait, Connor, you can’t just walk out on me, Connor…" he didn’t even turn around.
"You can’t just walk out on her, Doyle!" exploded Lindsay.
"But I thought…"
"She’s got nothing to do with our relationship, okay? How can you treat her that way?"
"Linds, you don’t know her, you can’t understand what I’ve been through…" Connor wished Lindsay’s eyes would lose the cold look.
"But I understand what I’ve been through, Connor. So I really can imagine what you feel. However that doesn’t mean that Becca has to suffer for that. It’s none of her business. It’s not her fault that things turned out the way they did."
"Who’s responsible then?"
"Me. And you. And the whole world. For making the wrong choices and taking the wrong chances, Connor," her eyes glittered with tears.
"Lindsay, don’t do that to me and to you," he asked.
"Connor, please, I can’t see you like this. Take the papers you wanted and get out. Or I’ll go. And don’t cause Becca more trouble. She’s suffering as much as you do."
"Then she should get the divorce! Stop believing I’m the reincarnation of her dead husband!" Connor almost shouted.
"You now don’t look like Doyle I used to know," her voice softened. "I’m sorry I’ve caused you so much pain. Perhaps I should quit OSIR and leave the town."
"No," unconsciously he reached out and took her hand, "don’t talk such stuff, don’t leave me. I beg you."
"Okay," Lindsay stood up, "but don’t even hope things will ever be the same. We had a chance, Connor. We didn’t take it."
He looked after her and felt like crying.
"Lindsay, we’ve got a new case," Peter announced, standing in the doorway.
"Great, come in," her voice sounded dull and lifeless.
"Lin, are you ok?" he entered the kitchen, seeing her standing at the window and doing nothing. Just standing there and staring outside.
"No, I’m not, Pete," she answered, turning to greet him. "Thanks for asking."
"I’m sorry," that was all he could think of saying.
"Don’t be. It’s my fault."
"It’s about Doyle, isn’t it?" Peter lowered himself on a chair. Lindsay nodded.
"I thought you could let him go."
"Would you?"
"No, I wouldn’t," he admitted.
"Neither could I. Pete, I know I’m making him miserable and so many people as well but I can’t help it. I wish I could hate Becca but I can’t. And Elsinger’s gone."
"You mean there’s no one to be declared guilty?"
"There is. I’m responsible, Doyle’s responsible. Oh, Pete, there’re so many people responsible like many small stones making a castle. So many things went wrong. Neither Doyle nor me can find the responsible now. It’s like an avalanche: you throw a small snowball and masses of snow follow."
"But things would be different if not for Rebecca…"
"Now don’t start with "if"s, Peter. There is no "if" in this story. There are facts and I can’t ignore them. Connor can’t do that as well and that’s why he’s feeling so down. Because he knows he can’t change anything. And his conscience doesn’t allow him to act ignoring facts."
He looked put out.
Lindsay gently put a hand on his sleeve: "Sorry, Pete, I’ve been so angry I’ve forgotten I can’t stop hurting people around me. You haven’t come here to listen to my wails. What’s the case about?"
"A little girl," he now looked more self confident, fumbling in his case for the papers. "A five year old called Chelsey Leons."
"What happened to her?" Lindsay looked nervous.
"She had a shock while she was at the dentist, was brought to the hospital. Now she’s in coma. We have to find out why."
"God, not Chelsey, not this bright little kid!" she moaned.
"You know her?" Peter asked, surprised.
"Yes, she’s in the same day group as Colleen. And … and I’ve seen her only a week ago at the dentist’s by the way. She looked just great. Poor Angela!"
Axon looked into the papers: "I must say, it all happened a week ago."
Lindsay threw him a quick glance and rushed to the telephone. While she pushed the buttons, she prayed Dana was okay.
The telephone was answered at the third ring. "Here’s Dana Praeger speaking, hello."
"Hi, Dana," Lindsay’s knees were weak with relief, "how are you?"
"Lindsay!" the voice sounded delighted. "Thanks, I’m great. Only the teeth hurt a bit but otherwise I’m great. Mom was furious of course, because of the doctor, but eventually she calmed down. Did you call just to say hello?"
"Yes, I wanted to make sure you’re all right," Donner said.
"Right, thanks for calling. Got to rush now, see you later!" Dana said.
"Bye, greet your mom from me," Lindsay replied, hanging up.
She turned to Peter: "Thanks heavens she’s feeling good."
"Why suddenly Dana? It was Dana Praeger, wasn’t it?" Peter frowned.
"Uhu, she was at the same dentist a week ago. As I’ve heard about Chelsey, I’ve immediately thought about her."
"I think we should nose around at the clinic," Axon proposed.
"That the best proposal I’ve heard since a long time," Lindsay managed a smile. "Let’s go!"
"And where’s the small princess?" asked Peter.
"Oh, she’s over at Marc’s. Surprising how much he loves her."
"He still loves you too, Lin," Axon said softly. "Only looks like you can’t face it right now. I wish you and Doyle could sort out your probs."
"You can’t imagine how much I wish that," she replied quietly, taking her coat.
Lindsay disliked hospitals. But what she disliked most was the feeling of helplessness she had each time she had to see someone – especially a child – in coma. Each time she saw them, she felt the reality was a burden too heavy to carry.
This time it was even worse: Chelsey, who she saw only a week ago, the lively smiling child, was lying here, silent and pale. Angela was sitting by her side. She didn’t stand up as Lindsay and Peter entered the room, only looked up.
"Oh, Ms. Donner, what are you doing here?"
"Just Lindsay. I’m trying to find out who’s done this to Chels," Lindsay answered.
"Ms. Donner, who are you to do this?" the woman asked.
"Well, I’m here not privately, Angela, but on an OSIR mission," she explained. "Here’s my colleague, Peter Axon. He’s a physicist. May he have a look around in the room?"
Angela nodded, confused: "What does OSIR mean? What has it to do with my daughter?"
"OSIR means Office of Scientific Investigation and Research," Peter replied and smiled – the trick that always worked. "We have every reason to suppose that young Chelsey was not just a victim of an anaphylactic shock as you’ve been told."
"Oh," Angela’s eyes widened. "Oh," she repeated after a while. "Then do whatever is needed to help her. And me," she added quietly.
"Certainly, Angela," Lindsay reassured the woman.
"We’re gonna make it together," agreed Peter.
Angela smiled faintly and turned her attention to the child on the bed.
"Linds, what are we going to do first?" Axon whispered as they took a look around.
"I guess I’ll go to the infirmary and nurses’ area and you can try to work out whether all the stuff here," she made a wide gesture, including all the peeping monitors, "is all right. Whoever informed Anton: if he’s after Chelsey, he’s going to try to get her in the hospital as well."
"But what has Chelsey done?"
"What has Lizzie done?" retorted Lindsay. "They’ve got no proof, no explanation, no excuse: just do things. I’d better be going."
Peter sighed: he hated when Lindsay got touchy but he could understand her state of mind perfectly well. It must have been dreadful being near someone yet so far away.
Lindsay walked down the corridor and approached a nurse at a desk. The elderly woman looked very busy, shuffling the papers on her table and furiously typing something on an old fashioned computer.
"Hi," she tried her best engaging smile.
The nurse looked up for an instant: "What do you want, lady?"
"Mmm," Lindsay shortly considered asking her about Chelsey’s delivery but then saw the nurse’s expression. "I’d like to have some blood samples of certain Miss Chelsey Leons."
"Why?" the nurse was still hostile.
"Well, guess I’ve got no choice," Lindsay pulled out her OSIR mark. "Because I’m a scientist and I need them."
The woman looked rather angry but nevertheless she stood up and went to a younger nurse, standing a bit aside: "Blood samples, Chelsey Leons. Hand over to that woman."
The girl nodded: "I’ll do that right away."
"Thanks," Lindsay smiled at her, "I’ll be grateful for that."
The younger nurse dashed away and the older returned to her desk, murmuring something under her breath. It sounded like "what are these useless scientists for if you have to do everything on your own."
Lindsay hid a smile and settled on a battered looking chair opposite the table. She had a feeling that she couldn’t trust the nurse with giving her the right samples. Of course it was quite rude of her, from her experience she knew that people – and especially older ones – didn’t like someone interfering and demanding something they couldn’t understand but it was an investigation and if she stopped each time someone became crabby…
"Oh, Lin, you’re already here?"
Lindsay looked up and saw Connor: "As you can see."
She was neither surprised nor annoyed. Somehow Doyle managed to kill every emotion in her. Except for nagging pain deep inside.
"Lindsay, are you again dropping hints?" he asked quietly.
"I’ve never dropped hints, why should I stop now? Things haven’t been as clear as they are for ages," her voice was heavy with sarcasm.
"I wish we would stop fighting," Doyle sighed.
"Really? Strange how we happen to have the same thoughts. It’s quite unusual, isn’t it?" she interrupted as he started speaking: "Anyway, there’s nothing we can speak about. Axon’s over there, talking to Mrs. Leons. Go and ask him whatever you want."
Connor turned around: "I’m sorry things are this way, Lindsay."
"Me too. But apologies sound quite tired now," her mobile rang. "Donner."
Doyle stood in some distance and watched her speaking. The same gray eyes dancing with amusement he missed so much, the same smile touching her lips, creating dimples on her cheeks, lighting up her face. But now she wouldn’t smile at him when he walked in or casually caught her glance, she wouldn’t make a face at Pete’s scientific explanation, making him laugh, she wouldn’t drop into the office saying "good morning" in a voice that made even Coop beam with pleasure at being addressed. Only now did he realize how empty his life was without her and the how the small things he considered unimportant actually made his life what it used to be.
Everyone else in the Office treated him as if nothing has happened. Anton was as friendly as always, Pete seemed a bit wary in Lindsay’s presence but otherwise quite easy going and other colleagues quite genuinely congratulated him on returning married. If only they knew…
"Connor, over here!" Peter shouted, thinking that Doyle hasn’t seen him.
"Hi, Pete, how’s it going?" Doyle asked, approaching.
"I have found no traces of sabotage, looks like all the machines function properly."
"What about doctors?"
"It’s Lindsay’s job to check them out. You know her, she doesn’t like anyone intruding in whatever she’s doing."
"She doesn’t like a lot of things," a voice behind them said. Connor and Peter turned around simultaneously and saw smiling Mia. "Have you thought you can let me out of a case?"
"Nope, but I couldn’t reach you," explained Peter.
"And I’ve still no number of that mobile of yours," apologized Connor.
"Okay, forgiven and forgotten. Is Linds nosing ‘round?"
"Yeah," replied Axon, "she’s in her element, I’ve just seen a nurse who acted as if she’s on a secret mission. I wonder how Lin gets everyone doing whatever she wants them to do."
"Oh, easily, Pete, believe me," Mia said, "she only has to make her "I’m so helpless" face at men and "you’re such a clever girl" at woman. The rest is quite simple."
"If it’s really as easy as it sounds, why are we so hopeless at charming people?" Peter asked.
Connor shrugged: "If you want to hear my opinion: Lin’s one in a million, there’s no one like her."
"An unofficial meeting?" Lindsay wondered, as she approached them. "Hi, Mia, howdy dowdy."
"Great as usual," Stone answered, "how’s Leeny?"
"As mad as a hatter," Donner smiled affectionately, "you know what she’s like with Christmas and her birthday within reach. Speaking of Christmas, have you considered going to Grand Canaria with Praeger?"
"Praeger?!" exclaimed Peter. "Are you kidding?"
"No everyone has your taste," Connor said and was rewarded by Lindsay’s grateful look. It was only short but made him feel better.
"As a matter of fact I have. But I don’t think that I fit there. We’re quite good friends with Mathew however I reckon he needs his time with Dana. Who knows, may be next year she’ll spend Christmas with someone else. Besides Praeger’s obviously delighted they’re on their own."
"Then come to us, everyone’s coming anyway," Lindsay invited.
"Me too?" Connor asked.
"Why not? Perhaps it’ll make things the way they used to be. Even if for a short while," Peter replied.
Lindsay nodded and grinned: "But I gather Becca’ll find her way of sabotaging it."
Everyone laughed. And Connor realized that there was no bitterness in Lindsay’s words. Has she given up?
"Oh well, enough fun," he said. "Have you got the samples, Lindsay?"
"Yes, I’ve sent them to HQ already, we’ll soon have the analysis."
"And you, Pete?"
"As I’ve told you, things look normal."
"I gather I’d go and question some people here," Donner proposed. "Mia, coming with me?"
"No, Lin, I want to have a look at the poor kid and her mother."
"Still searching vibes?" Peter teased.
"Will you stop that, Axon? One day I’m going to explode!"
"Not today though," interrupted Connor. "We all have a lot to do. See you later, guys, in the mobile lab."
"Bye, Connor," Mia headed the room where Angela sat at her daughter’s bed.
Lindsay also turned to go: "Cya guys."
As she was gone, Peter shrugged: "Try not to take it personally, Connor. Some day she’ll go over it."
"Sure, Pete," but deep inside Doyle doubted it.
"Connor, you mean you want to live in US from now on?" Rebecca asked, surprise in her voice.
"Yes, Rebecca, that’s exactly what I mean."
"All right, I’ll go packing then," she proposed and quietly left the room.
Connor sighed. Why did she make all the simple things quite complicated? Why wouldn’t she react Lindsay’s way? Shout, provoking a quarrel or laugh, ridiculing things? No, there was that stony silence and quiet obedience which started to get on his nerves. He has honestly tried to get to love the moors and the green fields of Lough Erin. But no matter where he went, he saw Lindsay. He saw her smiling face in the hills, her eyes in the deep lake not far from the farm. Sometimes he heard her voice and the sound of her laughter.
All the Irish relatives whispered behind his back that "’at ol’ chap took everyt’ing t’ hard" but Connor wouldn’t mind. They also wondered at the way he spoke. Only now Connor saw the difference between the quiet lilting Irish and his own so very American way of pronouncing the words. And of course they didn’t know what "sidewalk" was, or "subway" or "lift" for that matter.
It didn’t make Doyle clan less hospitable, not at all. They were all fire and flame, ready to show "ol’ chap" what he has – how they presumed – forgotten. So almost the whole day Connor and Rebecca spent going from one house to another, drinking to health of the people Connor was supposed to know and Rebecca called "her darlin’ relatives". If not for being married, Doyle would have been happy to investigate the fantastical phenomena he’s just discovered. Was it really possible that there has been his exact copy living in Ireland? Having the same name and the same appearance. Of course, Connor was quite a common Irish name but nevertheless the similarities were startling. Even the same age! With one difference: Irish Connor was married to Rebecca and didn’t know Lindsay. And American Connor wasn’t ready to spend his life with Rebecca exactly because he did know Lindsay.
"Connor, have you seen Kit’s new baby? But of course you haven’t! However we’re going to visit them today!" Rebecca was back to the room, smiling.
"I thought you went packing," Connor knew it wasn’t polite but his nerves were on edge.
"Darling, I thought you’ve been joking! How can you even consider leaving Lough Erin?"
"Rebecca, listen, I know it seems strange to you but please believe me: I’m not your dead husband or whatever. I am an American, born in US and living in US. I’m a scientist and I intend to go back to the people I know. That means to US. Back to where I belong."
"But…" she was at a loss for words, "but I know you belong here. Please, Connor, I can imagine that the shock was a bit too much for you but surely you do recognize our relatives and me and.."
"No, Rebecca, I don’t. That’s what it is about. I can’t explain to you how I got here from US and I don’t know why I resemble so much your deceased husband but I’m definitely not the same Connor Doyle you know."
"Again the headache?" she asked.
"Rebecca, for heaven’s sake!!!" Doyle lost his patience. "Woman, I’ve told you times already that I’m not crazy or having a headache or whatever else you think I am or have. I want back to OSIR. And if you don’t want to go with me, you can just as well stay here."
Rebecca answered nothing.
A week later they were sitting in a plane heading US.
"Day dreaming, boss, that’s not good," Mia grinned at Connor, who almost jumped at the sound of her voice.
"Mia, you’ll scare the wits out of me."
"And you of me. Sitting with a vacant expression on your face. You know how many lunatics there’re around."
"Oh, Mia. Have you found out something new?"
"In fact no," Stone plumped down on a chair, "but I thought I need the break. Angela’s quite miserable."
"Guys, you won’t believe what I’ve found," Lindsay burst into the room and almost ran to the table.
"What’s on, Linds, you look like a cat that’s swallowed a canary," Mia complained.
"That’s amazing on the one part and shocking on the other. No, you’ll never guess!"
"’Course we won’t if you keep on jumping around without telling us anything!" commented Peter, entering the room.
"Well," Lindsay pushed the button on the remote control and on the screen appeared a picture of a complicated chemical compound.
"Oh no," Connor groaned, "not another chemistry lesson!"
"Axon’s physical stuff’s quite enough," agreed Mia.
Lindsay was too busy to notice: "This is succinylcholin."
"Beg your pardon?" Peter asked.
"Pete," Lindsay exploded, "if you interrupt me every two minutes, don’t expect I’ll be able to tell you anything at all!"
"Sorry, Lin, go on," Connor said.
"This succinylcholine’s normally used in surgeries for operation. Its effect is similar to that of curare. That means it relaxes the muscles so that you can easily cut wherever you want."
"And what does it have to do with Leons’s case?" Peter couldn’t help asking.
"Succinylcholine," Lindsay threw Axon a thunderous look," is ideal for such purpose: you can’t find it in blood an hour later. Nevertheless it’s very effective. And it is a perfect weapon."
"Weapon?" Mia, Peter and Connor spoke at the same time.
"Yes, weapon."
"You mean, someone tried to kill Chelsey?" Mia cried out incredulously.
"Looks like. The thought itself is quite impossible, such a small kid couldn’t possibly have such strong enemies but we should check the parents," shrugged Lindsay.
"Lindsay, you said that it’s impossible to find succinylcholine in blood after several hours. How did you find it out?" Connor voiced Peter’s thoughts.
Donner suddenly smiled: "You won’t like it but I’ll tell you. I’ve searched through the bins at the clinic."
"You haven’t!" Mia burst into laughter.
"I have. Quite a job I must admit," Lindsay grinned even wider.
Connor shook his head: "Did they let you do it?"
"Certainly not. If they’d have known. But do I really have to ask for permission to look for evidence in a bin?"
Peter smiled back: "Hey, that reminds me of a case with Praeger. Mind you, Lindsay, he even threw a banana peel into a bin while I was digging there."
"Typical Mathew," giggled Mia.
"Concentrate please," Connor asked. "Well, Lindsay, are you quite sure it’s the same ampoule that was used for Chelsey?"
"Yes, an ampoule with succinylcholine."
"Really?" Peter frowned. "How come that?"
"It was a paregoric actually, succinylcholine was added."
Peter’s answer was an "oh".
"Exactly. Oh. Pete, you’ve got it right," Lindsay said. "The question is: who’d go to such trouble to kill a child?"
"We should check the background, everyone suspicious should be written down. Stone, Donner, it’s your job. Meanwhile I’ll take Axon and have a look at the dentist. Something tells me we’d better keep an eye on him," Doyle ordered.
"Righto," Lindsay took her bag and ushered Mia out of the room. "Mia, time waits for no man."
"You know, Lin, this case turned out to be just a crime. Not any paranormal stuff," Stone replied, easing herself into the car sit. "And we’re not police or FBI to hunt down the bandits."
"Still it is more paranormal than you think," Lindsay turned on the ignition, "it always makes me wonder of which crime a human can be capable. That alone is a case for OSIR. However I doubt we’ll ever come nearer to the truth."
"And yet you believe in people," Mia popped a chewing gum into her mouth.
"I do. And I’ll never stop doing it. But that doesn’t automatically mean there’re no dark sides of human nature," Lindsay pulled the car to a stop in front of a big building. "Well, let’s see what Mr. Leons’s got to tell us about his friends and foes."
Chuck Leons was a friendly looking man in his forties who greeted his visitors with a smile.
"Come in, girls. Any news from Angie?"
"I’m sorry, Mr. Leons, I’m afraid Chelsey’s condition is no better," Lindsay said.
Chuck’s face saddened: "Poor girlie. She’s my only daughter, you know, a real treasure. Surely I’ve got Brad and Pat but you see it’s hard to cope when one of your kids is ill. Especially if it’s as bad as this."
"I know what you’re talking about, Mr. Leons, but I think we may be able to help Chelsey by trying to find the reason for her present state. Do you know anyone who’s able to try to kill your daughter?" Mia continued
"Kill my little darling?" exclaimed Chuck.
Lindsay remembered that she hasn’t told either Angela or Chuck about her research: "Mr. Leons, our team has found evidence of a gift in Chelsey’s injection. That leads to a conclusion that someone has tried to hurt her."
"Goodness, but why on Earth her?"
"That means you don’t know anyone," concluded Mia.
"Heavens, no. No one I’m acquainted with would be able to kill a child."
"Just think about what we’ve said, okay?" Lindsay proposed. "If you remember a name, just call." She handed him her card. "One of our team is always available."
"Thank you," the man said. "I’ll do my best. I have to find out who’d hurt my Chels."
Mia and Lindsay bid their farewell and headed the car.
"You think he means what he says?" Mia asked.
"He does. He’s even more distressed than Angela. Poor guy. Well, we’ve found out nothing. I wonder whether Pete and Doyle were more successful," replied Lindsay, closing the car door.
"Coming with me?" Lindsay asked, jumping out of the car.
"No, thanks," Mia replied, "I prefer to stay here. Who knows what happens when you tell this doctor it’s over? I’ve seen too many detective films!"
Lindsay smiled at her serious way: "Okay, if I don’t return in twenty minutes, call 911 and Doyle".
"Oh, stop bossing me round, Linds. And don’t tease!"
They both were laughing as Donner left the parking lot and headed the hospital.
"May I speak to Doctor Jenks?" Lindsay asked at the information.
"Have you got an appointment, Miss?" the woman attentively eyed her.
"No, but it’s very important."
"I’m sorry, in this case you’ll have to come another time. However let me…"
"I’m not going to listen to you for the next hour," Lindsay snapped. It was already late, she was tired, hungry and longing to be back home with Colleen. Besides she was fed up talking to the nurses who always thought they were more important than the doctors. "I’m NOT going to wait here, is that clear? And it’s NOT the right time to send me away. Because I have to talk to Dr. Jenks about an attempted murder. Have I made myself clear?"
The woman paled and backed away, trying to preserve at least some dignity. As she disappeared behind the door, Lindsay idly wondered whether it was the best way of talking to people. Two minutes later the woman interrupted her musings, telling her with hurt pride: "Doctor is ready to see you."
"Of course only five minutes," Lindsay grinned as she realized that was exactly what the woman wanted to say. Entering doctor’s room she thought that the years with Praeger did its toll. Praeger would have been proud of her.
"Lindsay Donner?" Doctor Jenks stood up. "How nice to see you! Did Mrs. Authar get it right? You want to talk about murder?!"
"Yes, Dr, about attempted murder of Chelsey Leons."
"Oh my God," Jenks’s face was drawn of color. "I knew she’s been hospitalized but wasn’t it anaphylactic shock?"
"That’s what we thought. Till I found succinylcholin."
"How that?" the man looked genuinely distressed.
"I hoped you’d be able to tell me that. It’s been added to the usual paregorics you have used."
"Oh dear, how horrible! I’ll throw away all the ampoules, I have to make sure that no more patients are injured."
"Doctor Jenks, if you haven’t done it, then who else?" Lindsay gazed directly into his eyes.
"I wish I knew," the man shook his head. Then his expression changed: "Harvey Trudge."
"Who’s that?"
"It’s the new anaesthetist. You see, the old one was got ill last week and then we had to hire a new one. But he’ll be gone tomorrow. Greg – that’s the old one – is coming back then. He had troubles with his stomach."
"Stomach?"
"Yeah, he said he never had any before."
"I bet someone did it for him," Lindsay said.
"Damned, I should have known," the doctor exclaimed.
"Where’s he now?"
"He’s about to appear. Let’s wait then?"
"Yes," Lindsay nodded absentmindedly, then suddenly asked: "May I use your phone. Just for several minutes?"
"Sure," Jenks was put out but nevertheless courteous. "You’re welcome."
Lindsay rapidly pushed the buttons.
"Mat?" she didn’t wait for him to go on. "Remember Trudge? Yeah? Well, the guy came out of jail and just tried to kill Dana. Not now, stupid, week ago… no, another girl got hurt… yeah, I’ll do it… Sure, I’ll call the police… sure about that? .. right, have a nice holiday then. And greet Dana! Take care!"
She pulled out the mobile phone and quickly dialed: "Police? I need a panda car here, an attempted murder. With all the evidence."
Her next call didn’t take place.
"Ms Donner, are you waiting here for me?"
She span around and saw Harvey’s gun pointed at her.
"And I’ve thought I’ve got rid of you and that nosy Praeger."
"Sorry, you haven’t," replied Lindsay, looking at the armed policemen right behind Harvey, who signed silence at her.
"You’ll never learn, will you? You’ve almost got killed last time – a pity I shoot that badly – still you won’t stop."
"Look who’s speaking!" Lindsay said, "you’ve tried to kill Dana, forgotten?"
"No. That was my revenge."
"Planned as bad as everything else. Dana’s gone now, tanning. And you’ve hurt a kid."
"Enough of that, Donner. You won’t survive this time."
Two shots sounded at the same time as Lindsay stooped and leapt out of the bullet’s way. Harvey fell to the floor, bleeding. Mia burst into the room, pushing aside the policemen.
"Linds, heavens, you’re okay?"
"Right as rain," Lindsay grinned at this old expression, "just a bit heart beating. Not everyday a guy points a gun at my chest."
"Connor will be delighted," Mia said sarcastically.
"More delighted than you think," Lindsay replied bitterly. "It would be easier for him if either me or Rebecca dies."
"Don’t talk rubbish," but Mia was frightened by the look in Lindsay’s eyes. "Linds, think of what you did. You’ve saved Dana and Chelsey’s going to be okay. Her mother just called."
"Good," suddenly Donner felt leadentired and looked just as exhausted. "Tell Doyle I’m going home."
"You think he’ll come to visit you?" Mia asked.
Lindsay threw her a sad look: "No, Mia, he won’t. Not any more."
"Final case log, Doyle reporting. The case of Chelsey Leons is over. Chelsey Leons is getting better each day, her coma doesn’t seem to leave any traces. Harvey Trudge is serving a sentence for the attempted murder of Dana Praeger and injuring of Chelsey Leons. His only goal was to get rid of Praeger and his family as was revealed during the investigation. Senior Data Analyst Lindsay Donner has already told the jury about the first Trudge case they’ve investigated with Praeger. Doyle, end."
Two weeks later.
Lindsay stood up from the chair and looked out. It was the same picture as an hour ago: the gray sky, gray clouds, rain beating against the window pane. But she didn’t feel sad or depressed, she felt happy. He was alive and everything was going to be all right.
Lindsay still woke up at night, remembering the car crash in which Rebecca died. The truck, the squealing breaks and the time that seemed to stand still as the black Jeep hit the truck and flew through the air. The moment it hit the ground and remained lying there, just a heap of metal, burying Connor and Rebecca underneath.
She didn’t know what happened, why Rebecca hasn’t seen the coming truck. Probably she was blinded by rage and jealousy, having seen Connor with her in park. But it wasn’t important now: Connor lived and they would have had another chance if not for Becca. She remained between them, a silent ghost, an eternal reproach.
"You’ve killed her," everyone told Lindsay as she went to Rebecca’s funeral in Lough Erin. This accusing still rung in her ears.
"Oh, Connor, what have we done this time?" Lindsay whispered, stooping to kiss his forehead. "But I promise you I’ll always be there waiting for you. Nothing matters. You know how much I love you."
However as he stirred, she was already gone, leaving the hospital room deserted.
Connor slowly opened his eyes.
"I love you too," he whispered into the empty darkness. "And I know you’ll hear me talking. No more pretending, Lindsay, I promise. No more talking of guilt. No more taking wrong chances. Just you and me. That’s the only right way to go."
The End
31 October, 2001 - 11 March, 2002,
by Anastasia.