Rio flight as well as one for the 1:30 P.m. shuttle. The agent tried to convince him it would be far easier to take one of their late afternoon flights directly to Kennedy. That way Jeffrey wouldn't have to take the bus from LaGuardia to Kennedy. But Jeffrey wanted to go on the shuttle. He felt the sooner he got out of Boston, the better he would feel.
Leaving the ticket area, Jeffrey approached security's X-ray machine. There was a uniformed state police officer casually lounging just beyond it. It was all Jeffrey could do not to turn around and run.
Right after he hoisted his briefcase and then the suitcase onto the conveyer belt and watched them disappear into the machine, Jeffrey had a sudden fright. What about the syringes and the ampule of morphine? What if they showed up on the X-ray, and he had to open the briefcase? Then they'd discover the stacks of moneyl What would they think of all that cash?
Jeffrey thought about trying to reach into the X-ray machine to yank his briefcase back, but it was too late. He glanced at the woman studying the screen. Her face was illuminated eerily by the light, but her eyes were glazed with boredom. Jeffrey felt himself being subtly urged on by the people waiting behind. He stepped through the metal detector, eyes on the policeman the whole time. The policeman caught his eye and smiled; Jeffrey managed a crooked smile in return. Jeffrey looked back at the woman studying the screen. Her blank face looked suddenly puzzled by something.
She had stopped the conveyor belt and was motioning for another woman to look at the screen.
Jeffrey's heart sank. The two were examining the contents of his briefcase as it appeared on the screen. The policeman hadn't noticed yet. Jeffrey caught him yawning.
Then the conveyor belt started again. The briefcase came out, but the second of the two women stepped over and put her hand on it.
'Is this yours?' she asked Jeffrey-
Jeffrey hesitated, but there was no denying it was his. His passport was in it.
:'Yes,' he said weakly.
'Do you have a Dopp Kit in there with a small pair of scissors?'
Jeffrey nodded.
'Okay,' she said, giving the briefcase a push toward him.
Stunned but relieved, Jeffrey quickly took his belongings to a far comer of the waiting area and sat down. He picked up a discarded newspaper and hid behind it. If he hadn't felt like a criminal when the jury handed down its verdict, he felt like one now.
As soon as his flight was called, Jeffrey pressed to get on. He couldn't wait to get on the plane. Once he was on, he couldn't wait to take his seat.
Jeffrey was in an aisle seat fairly close to the front of the plane. With his suitcase secured in the overhead compartment and his briefcase tucked under his feet, Jeffrey leaned back and closed his eyes. His heart was still racing but at least he could now try to relax. He had just about made it.
But it was difficult to calm down. Sitting there in that plane, the seriousness and irreversibility of what he was about to do finally began to sink in. So far, he hadn't broken any law. But as soon as the plane crossed from Massachusetts into another state, he would have. And there would be no turning back.
Jeffrey checked his watch. He began to perspire. It was one twenty-seven.
Only three minutes to go before the door would be sealed. Then takeoff. Was he doing the right thing? For the first time since he'd come to this decision that morning, Jeffrey felt real doubt. The experience of a lifetime argued against it. He'd always followed the law and respected authority.
Jeffrey began to shake all over. He'd never experienced such agonizing indecision and confusion. He looked at his watch again. It was twenty-nine after the hour. The cabin attendants were busy slamming all the overhead compartments, and the crashing noise threatened to drive him mad. The door to the cockpit was closed with a resounding click. A gate agent came onto the plane and gave a final manifest. All the passengers were in their seats. In a way he was ending the life he had always known, as surely as if he'd released the stopcock the night before.
He wondered how running away would affect his appeal. Wouldn't it make him appear the guiltier? And if be was ever brought to justice, would he have to serve extra time for fleeing? Just what did he plan to do in South
America? He didn't even speak Spanish or Portuguese. In a flash, the full horror of his action hit home. He just couldn't go through with it.
'Waitf' Jeffrey shouted as he heard the sounds of the plane's
door closing. All eyes turned on him. 'Wait! I have to get off!' He undid the seat belt, then tried to pull his briefcase from under the seat. It opened and some of the contents, including a stack of hundred-dollar bills, fell out. Hastily, he jammed the things back inside, then got his suitcase from the overhead compartment. No one spoke. Everyone was watching Jeffrey's panic with stunned curiosity.
Jeffrey rushed forward and confronted the cabin attendant. 'I have to get off!' he repeated. Perspiration was running down his forehead, blurring his vision. He looked crazed. 'I'm a doctor,' he added, as if to explain. 'It's an emergency.'
'Okay, okay,' the cabin attendant said calmly. She pounded on the door, then made a gesture through the window at the gate agent who was still standing on the jetway on the other side. The door was opened, too slowly for Jeffrey's taste.
As soon as the passage was clear, Jeffrey rushed from the plane. Luckily, no one confronted him to ask for his reasons for deplaning. He ran up the jetway. The door to the terminal was closed, but it was unlocked. He started across the boarding area, but he didn't get far. The gate agent called him over to the boarding podium.
'Your name, please?' he asked with no expression.
Jeffrey hesitated. He hated to say. He didn't want to have to explain himself to the authorities.
'I can't give you your ticket back unless you give me your name,' the agent said, slightly irritated.
Jeffrey relented, and the gate agent returned his ticket. Pushing it hastily into his pocket, he then walked past the security check and went into the men's room. He had to calm down. He was a nervous wreck. He put down his hand luggage and leaned on the edge of the sink. He hated himself for vacillating, first with suicide, now with fleeing. In both cases
Jeffrey still felt he made the right choice, but now what were his options?
He felt depression threaten to return but he fought against it.
At least Chris Everson had had the fortitude to follow through with his decision, albeit a misguided one. Jeffrey cursed himself again for not having been a better friend. If only he knew then what he knew now, he might have been able to save the man. Only now did Jeffrey have an appreciation of what Chris had been going through. Jeffrey hated himself for not having called the man, and for compounding the oversight by failing to call his young widow, Kelly.
Jeffrey splashed his face with cold water. When he'd regained
some semblance of composure, he picked up his belongings and emerged from the rest room. Despite the bustle of the airport, he felt horribly alone and isolated. The thought of going home to an empty house was oppressive. But he didn't know where else to go. Directionless, he headed for the parking garage.
Reaching his car, Jeffrey put the suitcase in the trunk and the briefcase on the passcngcr-sidc seat. He got in behind the wheel and sat, blankly staring ahead, waiting for inspiration.
For several hours he sat there running through all his failings. Never had he been so low. Obsessed about Chris Everson, he eventually began to wonder what had happened to Kelly Everson. He'd met her on three or four social occasions prior to Chris's death. He could even remember having made some complimentary remarks about her to Carol. Carol hadn't been pleased to hear them at the time.
Jeffrey wondered if Kelly still worked at Valley Hospital, or, for that matter, if she still lived in the Boston vicinity. He remembered her as being about five-four or five, with a slim, athletic build. Her hair had been brown with highlights of red and gold, which she'd wear long, clasped with a single barrette. He recalled her face as being broad with dark brown eyes and small, full features that frequently broke into a bright smile.
But what he remembered most was her aura. She'd had a playfulness that had melded wonderfully with a feminine warmth and sincerity that made people like her instantly.
