Discoveries

“Mornin’, soldier,” said Police Chief Ben Carter as he rose from his chair in the corner of Nick Scarpelli’s hospital room. “You gave us all a bit of a scare there.”

“Wha…what happened?” asked Nick.

“Well, simply put, Ned Beasley blew himself up and nearly took you with him. I spoke to the fire chief, and he suspects it was a meth lab explosion, though it’ll take several days to sift through all the evidence.”

Meth lab, huh? Nick suddenly recalled what Vern Wooten had said at the Travis Ranch about Randy Dawkins going to Harriman to buy drugs.

“I heard voices,” mumbled Nick.

“I’ll bet you did,” snickered Ben.

“No. At the house. I heard two voices coming from the garage. Two men. And there were two cars parked at the side of the garage.”

“Hmmm. I’ll tell the fire chief. Fact is, the place was blown to smithereens. Hard to tell just how many people were in that house or how many cars were there.”

“Damn! I wish I’d gotten the license numbers of those cars.”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t,” remarked Chief Carter. “If you’d been close enough to those cars to get the license numbers, you’d have been blown to kingdom come along with them.”

“There’s something else you’re not telling me, Ben,” Nick noted.

“Why would you say that?” asked the older man.

“You’re fluffing my pillow,” Nick replied. “You’re not doing that to make me comfortable. You’re doing it ‘cause you’re uncomfortable.”

“During the night,” Ben ventured slowly, “you kept muttering a word.”

“What word?”

“I’m not really sure, but it sounded something like ‘boocha.’”

In a flash, Nick found himself back in time. In Abuja.

The shower was running full blast when Nick rushed into the warmly decorated room in the Transcorp Hilton Abuja. The walls were clad in a sand-colored, richly textured paper with brown and green borders. Three Yoruba prints hung over the bed, which was crawling with lions, tigers, giraffes, and zebras on a quilted tundra. Matching drapes and valences flanked the windows.

“Hurry up, Sweetheart,” Nick called to the bathroom. “We don’t want to be late for the reception.” He knew full well, though, that they would be late. Leanne was never on time. It wasn’t like she needed to arrive late to draw attention; she turned heads no matter where she went or what time she arrived.

They had met two years earlier at the veterinary clinic. Nick loved animals, but with his work schedule, he didn’t feel that it would be right to have a pet of his own. When a neighbor asked him to take care of her Lhasa apso while she went away for a few days, he welcomed the opportunity. When the dog wouldn’t eat, Nick got concerned and decided to take him to a vet.

After signing in with the receptionist, Nick sat in the waiting room with the fur-angel in his lap when in marched a Great Dane with his hulking master in tow. Sitting next to Nick, the giant ape stared at the mop in Nick’s lap and asked condescendingly, “What’s that?”

“He’s a Lhasa apso,” replied Nick.

“You’d never catch me with one of those sissy dogs,” sneered the simian.

“Well, some of us are secure enough in our masculinity that we don’t worry about such things,” responded Nick.

“Mr. Scarpelli, the doctor will see you now,” announced the assistant while the ape tried to figure out whether or not he had just been insulted. “Second room on the left.”

Entering the room, Nick thought he had made a mistake. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said to the gorgeous woman standing beside the examining table. “I thought I was supposed to bring my dog in here.”

“Mr. Scarpelli?” the woman asked as Nick turned to leave. “I’m Dr. Castle.”

“You’re the vet?” asked Nick in disbelief. She nodded. “Jeez,” pronounced Nick, “I’m gonna have to adopt every sick animal in the pound.”

Dr. Castle was not very impressed. She had heard just about every come-on there was, but to Nick, it was not just a come-on. He was genuinely taken.

“What seems to be the problem here?” she asked.

“Problem?” asked Nick, his eyes locked on the Athenian goddess.

“The dog,” she said.

“Huh? Oh, the dog,” said Nick, snapping out of his trance. “He won’t eat. His owner went away for a few days and left me to pet sit.”

“Well, it’s not unusual for pets to fast when their masters are away, but we’ll take a look just to rule out any medical problems.”

“It’s very nice of you to pet sit for your friend,” she said, trying to fill the silence.

“Oh, yeah,” he stammered. “I love animals. They’re great.” Normally very eloquent and suave, Nick could not help tripping over his own tongue. He had not felt so inadequate since he was 11 years old.

Dr. Castle checked the dog’s temperature, weight, eyes, ears, and mouth, and felt his small body before proclaiming him to be in perfect health.

“But he won’t eat,” insisted Nick. “What should I do?”

“What have you been feeding him?”

“Just regular dry dog food from the supermarket.”

“That’s not good.”

“Well, he usually likes it.”

“He may like it, but it’s not good for him. Most dog foods contain ethoxiquin and assorted by-products, which can cause all kinds of problems for dogs. Get yourself a copy of a book called Food Pets Die For by Ann Martin and start reading the labels on the foods you buy. Avoid anything with ethoxiquin and by-products.”

“OK, but if I buy other dog food, will he eat?” asked Nick.

“He’ll eat when he gets hungry enough,” she counseled. “I’d give him another day or two. If he’s not eating by then, you might try mixing a little canned food with the dry food.”

Not only is she gorgeous, but she really seems to know her stuff. He was impressed.

On his way out, Nick bumped into the gorilla with the Great Dane—literally bumped into him. Apologizing profusely—as much in self-defense as anything else—Nick maneuvered past the hulking man and snapped up a business card from the registration counter on his way out.

“Leanne Castle, DVM.” Nick kissed the card, slipped it into his shirt pocket, and patted it like a winning lottery ticket. With his movie star looks and natural charm, he had never had any trouble attracting women. The fact that this one didn’t fall immediately into his lap made him all the more determined to win her over.

One year later, Leanne Castle, DVM, became Mrs. Nick Scarpelli.

Leanne maintained her veterinary practice after she married Nick. It helped her keep her mind off of worrying about him while he was out on patrol in the streets of St. Louis. Her work earned her a growing international reputation and an invitation to join a scientific delegation to explore Nigeria’s Yankari National Park, the best natural animal preserve in West Africa.

Nigeria, situated just north of the equator on the Gulf of Guinea, is Africa’s most populous country. More than 250 languages are spoken by as many ethnic groups. The northern part of the country is predominantly Muslim (50%) while the south is mostly Christian (40%).  In an effort to unite the country’s disparate factions, the government, in 1991, moved the capital from the coastal city of Lagos to the inland city of Abuja.

Having had his fill of traveling in the military, Nick balked at accompanying Leanne on the trip, but she applied her natural charm and convinced him to change his mind. What she didn’t tell Nick was that she had a secret to reveal, and she thought that a romantic getaway would provide the ideal opportunity.

Nick removed his jacket and threw it across the king-sized bed in their hotel room in Abuja. He was unbuttoning his shirt when Leanne walked out of the bathroom wrapped only in a towel. “Oh, good,” said Nick. “I need to get in there and clean up before we head for the reception.”

Reaching out to him and running her fingers across his shoulders and upper arms, Leanne spoke seductively, “I thought we might talk”—she placed special emphasis on that word—“for a few minutes before we go.”

Resisting the temptation, Nick replied, “Sounds great, Honey. Let’s do that tonight after the reception.”

Not one to give up easily, Leanne lowered her towel, revealing firm, succulent breasts that accentuated her perfectly curved body. “But I have some news to share with you.”

Choking back his natural male instincts, Nick stammered, “How about we talk about it on the way to the Ambassador’s house?” Torn between the Temptation of Eve and his business drive, Nick walked toward the shower.

“Oh, Nick,” drawled Leanne.

“Yes?” asked Nick, turning around to find Leanne standing before him with the towel now covering only her toes. His eyes scanned her form from neck to ankles. Involuntarily, he licked his lips, took a deep breath, and regressed to the 11-year-old boy that he had become when he first met her. Suddenly, his pants and underwear began to feel much too tight.

He stood, frozen in place, as Leanne strolled slowly toward him. Her fingers now tickled the hairs on his broad chest, around his sternum, and down to his navel. She reached down to relieve the pressure at his groin, but it only grew stronger. She drew closer, pressing her soft, enticing breasts against his muscular pecs. She leaned forward and nibbled his earlobe, whispering like a vixen, “Don’t you want to talk? I’ll make it worth your while.”

Drawing one more deep breath, Nick quickly tore off his clothes, brushed his jacket off the bed, and threw himself on top of his Delilah. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, exploring every nook and cranny. He ran his tongue down her neck to her breasts. He licked and sucked each one softly, then vigorously, and then pressed them together and sucked both nipples in tandem. Sensing that Leanne was almost ready for him to enter her, he released her breasts and slid his body lower, licking a path from the center of her chest, around her navel, and down to her soft, furry nest. His tongue went wild—as did his lover.

“Now,” screamed Leanne. “Take me now.”

As Nick pushed himself up, Leanne reached out to grab his flexing triceps and pull him closer. He lay on top of her and pressed himself into her waiting grasp, slowly at first, and then harder, faster. She screamed. He panted. Two hearts pounded. They both pumped and flinched like wild animals, savage beasts. Their passion rose to a fever pitch. Leanne screamed louder, again, and again, as she released all her tension. Seconds later, Nick exploded inside her—once, twice, and then several more times. He let out a protracted sigh and collapsed on top of her, their hearts beating in syncopation. Shortly, he rolled over, and they lay beside each other, waiting for their breathing to return to normal.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Nick finally broke the silence. “You said you had something to tell me?”

“Yes,” she teased.

Rolling onto his side to face her, he asked, “Well, what is it?”

She paused, not knowing quite how to say it, finally deciding that the direct approach was the best. “I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

“I know we said that we were going to wait until we had been married five years, and it’s only been three, but it just happened. I mean, I didn’t plan it or anything. It just happened.”

Silence.

“You’re upset,” she concluded.

“No, no, no,” he reassured her. “It’s great! I’m just stunned,” he said. “I’m….”

He rolled over again, stared blindly at the ceiling, and continued slowly, as a smile crept across his lips, “I’m…I’m going to be a daddy!”

Leanne threw herself at him and planted kisses all over his face.

They talked about when she was due, whether it was a boy or a girl, the need to convert the guest room into a nursery, preparing for college….

“We really should get ready for the reception now,” Leanne finally cautioned.

“Yeah, we should,” concurred Nick. “The limo’s waiting.”

He gazed into her sensuous eyes. “We really should go,” his voice trailed off. He drew closer to her. His lips met hers, kissing her tenderly. For the second time that evening, they made love, but this time it was less animalistic, more spiritual.

“There you are!” gasped Jacob Eisen, the head of the scientific expedition, pacing frantically under the portico of the American ambassador’s residence. “I was afraid you weren’t coming.”

“Sorry,” said Nick. “We got delayed.” Seeing Leanne with her long blonde hair flowing down the back of her sleeveless black evening gown, Jacob guessed immediately what had caused the delay, but he refrained from commenting.

Jacob had made arrangements through the U. S. State Department to launch the collaboration with the Nigerian government by getting the American ambassador to host a reception at his residence.

Upon entering the ballroom, Leanne was drawn immediately to a large painting on the far wall. As she, Nick, and Jacob crossed the room, Leanne asked, “What is it?”

“I dunno,” said Jacob, “but it’s certainly colorful.”

“It’s an Ogubike,” said Nick, surprising both his wife and Dr. Eisen.

“Very good, Mr. Scarpelli,” said Ambassador Josiah Washburn, approaching from the side. “I see you are a connoisseur of beauty.”

Judging from the way the ambassador was eying Leanne, Nick wasn’t sure whether he was referring to the painting or to his wife. “I’m not an art expert,” said Nick, clearing his throat (as if to send a message), “but I do admire Mr. Ogubike’s work. Moyo Ogubike is a Nigerian-born American artist now living in Denver,” said Nick, addressing Leanne rather than the ambassador. “I saw an exhibit of his work at the Denver Museum of Art when I was there for a law enforcement conference.”

“It’s magnificent,” intoned Leanne, analyzing the woven images of people, plants, animals, and birds. “It’s so full of life. And the technique: it’s like a cross between a Picasso painting, a Chagall window, and a Gees Bend quilt.”

Normally Nick did not mind these business soirees. Tonight, though, he couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel to pick up where he and Leanne had left off. Finally, just after midnight, he was able to thank his hosts and drag Leanne away from the “friendly” ambassador.

“Oh, Honey, I forgot my bag,” said Leanne as they stepped under the portico and onto the circular driveway at the front of the house.

“I’ll get it,” said Nick, not really wanting Leanne to go back into the house.

“No, no,” she insisted. “You get the limo. I’ll be right back.”

There were so many limos parked to the side of the main gate, Nick couldn’t be sure which one was his. Finally, he recognized the driver and signaled for him to pull up. As the car advanced, Nick walked forward to meet it, but he stopped for a moment and turned to see if Leanne was coming. Suddenly, he was blinded by a flashing light. At the same time that he heard the deafening explosion, a blast of hot air swept him off the ground and hurled him into the oncoming limo. His limp body smashed like a rag doll against the car and bounced backward onto the pavement. Everything went black. A shred of canvas from the Ogubike painting drifted through the air and landed on his face. It was an image—half an image really—of a dove.

Five days later Nick regained consciousness at the Craig Hospital in Englewood, Colorado. The State Department had transported him there because Craig was regarded as one of the best rehab facilities in the country. The physician informed Nick that Islamic zealots supported by Osama bin Laden’s Al Qaeda organization had sneaked into the ambassador’s house as part of the catering crew and had simultaneously set off bombs near the kitchen stove and the furnace to maximize the destruction. Leanne, Jacob, the ambassador, and 17 others were killed in the blast.

What the doctor did not tell Nick, but what he would soon learn, was that he would have to spend the next 12 months in the hospital enduring surgery after surgery as well as extensive therapy and counseling.

“Oh, one more thing before I let you rest,” said the doctor. “The paramedics found this next to your body when they picked you up.” He handed the small, shiny object to Nick. It was Leanne’s handbag.