My Sister's Keeper

Chapter 15

15

PEARL BAIMBRIDGE SAT on the edge of her daughter's bed as the Channel 3 News began: "A local photographer was taken into custody for questioning earlier tonight in the case of missing twenty-three-year-old Ashleigh Matthews."

Pearl clutched Martha's hand. "This is going to devastate your father."

"Teresa Hedge has more in this live report."

The picture changed to a female reporter standing in front of Ashleigh's house holding a microphone.

"Police arrested Wilmington photographer Richard Baimbridge earlier this evening on suspicion of murder in connection with the case of missing twenty-three-year-old Ashleigh Matthews."

Martha had taken a Percocet that left her groggy and thick-tongued. "Oh, Richie," she moaned as they played video of Richard being paraded through a crowd of reporters and pushed into the back of a police car. Tears streaked Pearl's cheeks and collected on her chin.

As the reporter continued, the picture changed to video of the police going in and out of Ashleigh's house. "Matthews was reported missing Monday morning after her landlord found her door open and evidence of a violent struggle inside." The picture panned from Ashleigh's dark pool house to the left as the reporter pointed to Richard's house next door. "Thirty-two-year-old Baimbridge lives next door to the missing woman and is thought to have been romantically involved with her."

Martha squeezed her mother's hand. "He didn't do it, Mama. I know he didn't."

"Sources close to the investigation say evidence linking Baimbridge to the victim was found in her home and a witness alleges to have seen the two of them enter her house around nine Sunday evening. A grand jury hearing has been scheduled for tomorrow morning and is expected to return an indictment formally charging Baimbridge with second-degree murder. Baimbridge could stand trial as early as October. Tonight, some are wondering; Is this an isolated case or could Richard Baimbridge be Wilmington's serial killer?"

Pearl clasped a hand over her mouth but it could not contain the cry that escaped from deep within her.

"This is Teresa Hedge reporting live."

With a clinched fist against her lips, Pearl's sobs became wails. Martha switched the TV to Channel 6 and caught another story about the arrest—one that showed a close-up of Richard from a photograph taken the year before when he received an award for Director of the Year at Thalian Hall. As another version of the story unfolded, Pearl dropped back against the headboard and wept. Gus stumbled into the room clutching his chest, staggered back against the wall, then toppled face-first onto the hardwood floor.

"Daddy!"

Pearl hurled herself off the bed and, rolling her husband onto his back, dug into his pockets. Blood dripped from a split in his lip and his eyes darted about aimlessly.

"Mama! Mama!"

Pearl screamed, "Call 9-1-1, Baby. Now!"

As Martha lifted the phone and pressed the numbers, Gus began slapping an open hand against the floor. Not finding his bottle of pills, Pearl leapt over him and dug into more pockets. When the emergency operator answered, Martha tried to speak clearly, but the operator had to ask her to repeat twice. "What is the nature of the emergency again?"

Martha spoke as clearly as she could. "Har—attack!"

"Heart attack?"

"Yes."

"I'm sending help immediately. They're on the way, Ma'am."

"Than' you."

The operator spoke calmly, "Please stay on the line."

Pearl's fingers found the tiny bottle of nitroglycerin, ripped it from Gus's pant's pocket, and dumped the tiny white pills on the floor. She'd witnessed many of her husband's attacks over the last several years, but never one as bad as this. Grasping a single pill in her fingers, she lifted it to his mouth now clamped shut with pain.

"Open your mouth!" His lips parted, but his teeth were clinched. She shook him. "Gus, open your mouth!"

"Daddy?"

Gus's eyes were hammered shut and his skin had turned gray. Pearl grasped his jaw and tried to open it, but he knocked her hands away. She slapped his face. "Open your mouth!"

Martha dropped the phone, rolled off the side of the bed, and dragged herself across the floor. "Daddy, open your mou'h!"

Pearl saw the terror of knowing he was going to die in Gus's eyes, and realized her worst nightmare was becoming a reality. Her skin flushed. With perspiration pooling in the creases of her neck, she straddled him on her hands and knees and shook him. "Don't you die on me, you—you—BASTARD!"

She cupped his neck, hooked her thumb in his nose, and wrenched his head backward forcing his mouth open. As Martha fell on his shoulder, Pearl dropped the pill under his tongue.

"Don't die, Daddy. P'ease don't die."

The nitroglycerin dissolved quickly and as it entered Gus's bloodstream, his blocked arteries began to dilate, and the blood began flowing past the blockages. As his panic subsided, Gus relaxed, closed his eyes, and drew a deep breath as Pearl planted a row of kisses across his forehead. Then the three of them lay on the floor until the ambulance arrived and took him away.