My Other Dad

By D.R. Tillotson

Peter Linwood is dead, murdered in a Detroit alley hundreds of miles from home. No one knows what he was doing in that dark alley. Furthermore, who would want to kill a boring computer salesman … and why? His daughter, Ellie Linwood, now must put aside her graduate studies to find out what happened to her father.

Ellie finds an ally in Detroit Police Detective Emerson Smith. Together, they struggle to piece together Peter’s career using postcards he sent his daughter from every hotel he stayed in over the last twenty years. In the midst of their investigation, Ellie receives a mysterious note: “Here is the key to my favorite place. The reason I was killed is there. Your Uncle Max is the only person you can trust.”

The note is signed “Dad.” Even stranger, Ellie’s Uncle Max has been dead for two years. Peter’s murder soon explodes into a worldwide conspiracy, and the men behind it will sacrifice anything or anyone to stop Ellie from uncovering their plan. Can Ellie and Smith stay alive long enough to solve her father’s murder? And what happens when Ellie meets her “dead” Uncle Max face-to-face?

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 13, 2015
• ISBN: 9781491779712

D.R. Tillotson

Danny R. Tillotson is a retired information technology manager, pilot, and former United States Marine. He and his wife live in Auburn, Alabama, where they enjoy golf, reading, woodworking, Auburn football, and spending time with their daughters and grandchildren. Learn more at www.drtillotsonbooks.com.

Book preview

Chapter 1

He didn’t like crowds. In his business, crowds equaled risk.

The room smelled of sour milk and people who hadn’t showered in days. It wasn’t a small room; that wasn’t the problem. It was the vertical stripes on the wallpaper; that was the problem. They were mostly shades of pea soup green and made the walls wiggle and twitch every time your eyes moved. If you were prone to motion sickness, this wouldn’t be the place to spend your evening. But Peter Linwood had to be there. Earlier in the evening, a large family including aunts, uncles, and cousins had filled the room. Peter didn’t like crowds and stepped out into the hall while the room was noisy and packed. Now that the crowd was gone, the only occupants were Peter and two other expectant dads.

Peter never believed this day would come. He had told Kate he wanted a little girl. She said she didn’t care and would joke that a girl was one of her choices. But girl or boy, neither Peter nor Kate knew it would be so difficult. Peter could tell it was hard for her, those last three months sitting, anchored in the bed. She was usually the one telling patients to stay off their feet.

His job didn’t make it any easier for Kate, traveling for weeks, sometimes months at a time. Kate knew what he did for a living. She didn’t like it, but she told him she fell in love with the whole man, the good and the bad. Peter knew she didn’t know how bad the bad really was. If she had, he believed she would have left him. That had all changed two weeks after she learned she was pregnant. She was sitting in her office at the hospital when four Secret Service agents walked in followed by President Johnson. In his slow Texas twang, he said Peter had told him about their good news, and that he was happy for them. Kate told Peter it was at that moment she finally understood how important his job was.

Thinking about becoming a father pushed a small smile on Peter’s face as he scanned the room. Standing in the far doorway was a large man. When their eyes met, the man walked forward, scope-locked on Peter. The dark-skinned, heavyset man wove through the room’s occupants and chairs with the intensity and agility of a strong, athletic man. His eyes remained focused on Peter. As the man drew closer, Peter sprang from his seat, muscles taut. The man stopped in front of Peter but continued his intense stare through red, blood-shot eyes.

Peter held out his hand and said, Well, I’ll be, Dr. Bob Johnson. What’s the hospital’s Chief of Staff doing here at three in the morning? Do you have news about Kate and the baby?

Dr. Johnson returned the handshake as he said, Let’s go find a place that’s a little more private.

Peter grabbed Dr. Johnson’s arm stopping him in his tracks. Bob, news, any news?

Dr. Johnson didn’t answer but pointed to a small room across the hall. Peter continued to stare curiously at the doctor as he slowly turned and headed in that direction. He stepped through the doorway and did his customary sweep of the room. It was small, had no windows, only the one door, and no visible cameras or microphones. There were four good, but well-worn chairs parked at a round table with a large oil painting of the hospital in a cheap, wooden frame mounted on the wall opposite the door. Under it all was new, office-grade carpet that didn’t match the wallpaper. Then he noticed the smell—sour milk and Lysol. Peter blew a short breath out through his nose trying to remove the strong odor as he turned and faced Bob.

After shutting the door, the stout doctor lowered his head as he inhaled deeply then blew it out slowly. Peter could read people, and Bob Johnson had bad news. After another deep breath, Bob nervously buttoned his white smock before looking up at his friend.

You have a beautiful baby girl. Kate asked me to tell you something. Bob paused. She wants you to name her Eleanor, Ellie.

A girl, Ellie, that’s awesome. Wait. Peter’s smile vanished. "What do you mean she wants me to name her Eleanor? Peter looked down at the older man. What else, Bob? I’m sure you know what I do for a living. I can tell there’s more. Just tell me."

Peter thought Bob might not be able to speak, but the doctor managed to say, Kate died.

Peter’s face began to lose its color as he stared at Bob then, in a soft voice asked, What happened?

As soon as she started to push … the doctor paused as his eyes filled with moisture, and his coal black face took on a reddish hue. He continued slowly, telling Peter that Kate’s heart stopped, and they couldn’t shock her with the baby still inside so Dr. Gleeson started a C-Section. He said they got the baby out fast, so they don’t believe the lack of blood flow affected her. They did everything they could. Bob said he cracked her chest and massaged her heart, but it didn’t help, her heart just wasn’t healthy enough. He said as soon as he got in he could tell her heart was in bad shape.

Peter stepped over to the table and slowly lowered himself into a chair but kept his eyes locked on his friend. Now Peter realized Bob’s red, puffy eyes weren’t from lack of sleep. Bob sat in the chair across the table as Peter followed him with his eyes. Neither man spoke. Peter stared at the table for a long moment before asking, May I see Kate?

Bob looked over his shoulder as though he were listening to something then slowly turned back to Peter. He said yes, but he needed to be sure the room was ready. He also said he wanted to check on Ellie.

She was a couple of weeks premature and Dr. Peterzell, do you remember Abe? Sorry, you know Abe. Of course, you know him. Bob looked down and took a long breath.

Bob, it’s okay, Peter said in a gentle voice.

Bob continued telling Peter that Abe was examining the baby when he left the delivery room. He directed Peter to stay put, and he would be right back. Bob stood and walked to the door then turned back facing Peter.

You know I loved Kate like a daughter.

I know, Bob. She loved you, too. Peter looked down as he paused then said, You know we almost didn’t meet. It was that party at the new Washington Hilton, Christmas 1965.

Hey, I was at that party.

I almost wasn’t. I didn’t want to go.

Bob walked back to the table but remained standing as Peter said his best friend and field partner, Mark Woods, goaded him into going. Mark said he needed a wingman, said two six foot five, 240-pound men in tuxedos attracted more attention from the ladies than one alone, said one just looked out of place. Peter told Bob how uncomfortable he felt as he stepped through the ornate doors into the grand ballroom and encountered the large crowd of Washington dignitaries, politicians, and business elites. He quickly made his way around the perimeter of the hall in pursuit of the nearest beverage station. After getting his usual Cuba Libre, he stepped away from the bar but caught a glimpse of something worthy of a second look. He turned and saw her, standing in line, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Peter smiled, and his head bobbed as though it was agreeing.

Peter said he thought it was a curse in his civilian life, but his job had taught him to observe everything down to the smallest detail. At that party, it was a blessing as he took in every element of her being. She was in her early 30s, five foot five, 105 pounds, green eyes, cute little turned up nose and shoulder-length blonde hair stylishly curled up on the ends. She wore a stunning gold blouse tucked into a tight black skirt. Her jewelry was simple and perfectly complemented her outfit as if she bought it all right off the manikin in Macy’s window display. From each earlobe dangled a small gold leaf, crusted with diamonds, elegant, not flashy. A delicate gold chain hung around her neck. But no watch. Her fingernails appeared to have been professionally manicured. He said he remembered thinking her nails were short for a wealthy D.C. wife then noticed the absence of rings on both hands. He wondered why such a well-groomed woman would have such short nails and no rings. Her nails were crimson and matched the color of her perfect lips. Peter blushed as he said he thought they were perfect, not too big, not too thin. He said he couldn’t take his eyes off them. The last time he had seen crimson lips was during his final football game in college, Auburn versus Alabama, the Iron Bowl. The Alabama majorettes all wore that color. He said he remembered being distracted then too.

I tried to refocus as I did in that last game, but I couldn’t. She was extraordinary. Was … damn. I’m already speaking in the past tense. Peter paused, taking a large breath then blowing it out slowly as he looked up at Bob. She was extraordinary.

She was that, but how do you remember all those little details?

Peter just shrugged his shoulders then continued saying that he moved back to a spot next to the wall and continued watching her. He said he noticed she would glance at him occasionally as she mingled with some older men.

Bob’s face lit up. I was one of those older men.

Peter smiled as he continued with his story about how his friend Mark told him not to stare, but Peter couldn’t take his eyes off Kate. After repeated nagging from Mark, Peter told him to shut the fuck up. Everyone nearby stared at them as Peter’s irritation with Mark had increased in volume by two clicks. Peter laughed as he said he could remember the feel of blood rushing to his face then spending the next few minutes staring at his shoes.

When I raised my head, she was standing in front of me, her eyes fixed on mine. She reached up with both hands and gripped my coat by the lapels then pulled my head down to her level. She gave me a short, soft kiss. I remember not being able to breath afterward. She reached up with her left hand and rubbed her thumb across my lips removing the crimson stain she had placed there. Peter smiled and lowered his head slightly as he told Bob that was when he developed a gigantic case of dumb ass.

"I just stood there speechless when she said, ‘you were wondering what that would be like weren’t you?’ I didn’t say anything. God, I was such an idiot."

Peter paused a moment then smiled. "Finally, she released my lapel and slipped a business card into my cummerbund, and said ‘Call me when your voice returns, or let me know if it doesn’t. I’m a doctor; I can probably fix it.’ I remembered her walking away and thinking she was the one."

Peter paused again, and his smile widened. "I was still ten clicks into stupid when I reported back to Mark, ‘She’s a doctor.’ Mark slapped me on the back of the head and asked, ‘is that’s all you got from that experience?’"

Peter looked up at Bob, You know I called her as soon as I got home.

I know she was glad you did.

Peter nodded once as his smile disappeared then he lowered his head onto his crossed arms. He heard the door click shut as he closed his eyes. He squeezed his eyelids tight, but the tears didn’t come. His time in the Marine Corps had conditioned him to push aside grief; sitting still and unfocused could cost you your life. You pushed your pain down deep or turned it into hatred so you could continue the mission. Now there was no mission, only life, life without Kate.

The tears remained absent as his mind raced. I can’t believe she’s gone he thought. Is this for real? Is he sure? Bob wouldn’t lie to me. She can’t be gone. How will I live without Kate? How am I going to raise a child? I need help, and Kate isn’t here. Maybe Kate’s mom will help. I can add on a mother-in-law suite. Kate always points those out in magazines. I’ll call Roger about construction and Jessica can do the design. Wait. What am I thinking? Slow down Peter. Just focus on today. Kate’s gone, just breathe.

Peter began to think about why he didn’t cry. Had he become so desensitized to death that he couldn’t even weep for his wife, the woman of his dreams, dreams that came true?

He was still deep in thought when the door opened. Peter’s head snapped up, and his legs flexed, poised for action, but relaxed when a small man in surgical scrubs entered. The man’s face was well weathered, and his shoulders slightly bent over. Peter stared at the old gentleman for a moment then, in a soft, tired voice, said, Abe, you look exhausted.

The doctor didn’t respond to Peter’s comment but said, Peter, please come with me. I would like to introduce you to Eleanor Linwood.

Peter nodded and stood slowly then walked robotically over to Dr. Peterzell. As they exchanged handshakes, it became apparent to Peter how he dwarfed the old pediatrician. He had never been overly conscious of his size. Considering the men he worked with his six foot five, 245-pound frame was average.

Abe was a short, slight man, but as a pediatrician, he was a giant. He rarely combed his thick white hair, and Peter thought it made him look like a mad scientist. But he knew it was Abe’s influence that secured Kate’s appointment as Senior Attending Physician in Pediatrics at John Hopkins. Peter suddenly felt it odd he was thinking about such an unimportant detail at a time like this. Thankfully, Abe pulled him back from this tangent.

Come, Peter. Ellie is waiting to meet you.

Peter smiled. Thanks, Abe. Lead on.

After the ride to the seventh floor, the two men stepped out of the elevator. Peter stopped and made his customary scan left, then right before his focus shifted to the four large glass panels on the far wall. He made a mental note of the number of nurses in the nursery then all the newborn babies. Even though it was 3:25 a.m., there were four other men standing at the windows, each with their breath fogging the glass, and their eyes glued to one of the 12 bassinets. Peter started to analyze each of the men until he realized he was in work mode. He reminded himself tonight was about family then shook his head as he stretched his long legs to catch up with Abe.

Dr. Peterzell pointed to the last bassinet. Peter, she is there.

Peter walked over and stared at the tiny baby. For just the second time in his life, he found himself breathless as he studied the little lady with her long, dark eyelashes, light fuzzy hair and lips—just like Kate’s.

Abe, she’s beautiful.

Just like her mother, Abe said as he reached out and placed his hand on Peter’s forearm. I am so sorry about Kathryn. I can’t even begin to tell you how I felt about her.

I know, Abe. She always thought of you as her second father.

More like a grandfather, Abe said as he stepped back and smiled. I will leave you two alone to get acquainted. Peter, she is perfect, but I want her to stay in the nursery for the day. You can hold her later tonight. You should go home and sleep. You now have a lot on your plate.

Peter felt Abe’s hand pat his arm, but he couldn’t take his eyes off his little miracle. She was perfect. Suddenly a tear ran down each cheek. Peter didn’t think anything could make him cry. He’d been shot multiple times, stabbed and tortured. He had escaped from a hellhole of a jail cell at a secret military compound north of the Demilitarized Zone then lived for weeks in the mountains of North Vietnam with nothing but his Ka-Bar knife. Months later he took great joy in marking that compound with tracer fire while Marine jets demolished it with wing loads of two-thousand-pound bombs. Now, a five-pound fourteen-ounce baby had him in tears. He reached up with both hands and wiped his cheeks. I need to see Kate, he thought.

Kathryn Linwood’s body was ready for Peter. The nurses had washed and wrapped her so Peter wouldn’t see the large incisions in her chest and abdomen held together by a few temporary stitches. Peter entered the room but stopped when he saw Kate on the surgical table. The room was cold, and the lights were dim. He slowly performed his scan noting the team had removed all of the surgical equipment or stored it in one of the four stainless steel cabinets lining the left wall. The shades on the far wall were drawn covering the window where doctors, residents, and interns observed surgical procedures. Based on the intense smell, they had also cleaned and disinfected the floor. The high-intensity surgical light was dark and hovered high above the table. But, in the dim light, through moist eyes, it looked like an angel floating aloft, standing guard over a friend.

Peter had been around death many times, but this time was different. His feet felt heavy as he slowly walked to the table. He reached down and took Kate’s hand in his. The cold of her skin made him inhale quickly. He braced himself against the stainless steel table as he examined her colorless face. He closed his eyes then wiped away a new batch of tears.

Peter knelt and pulled Kate’s hand to his cheek then whispered, You knew there was an enormous risk, but you wanted a baby so much. You’re a doctor. You knew it would be dangerous at your age and with your heart condition. Peter hung his head as his voice quivered. No, it’s my fault. I should have never agreed. How am I going to raise a child by myself?

Peter wanted to be angry. If he were mad at someone, he could seek revenge, and Peter Linwood was good at that. He pushed back the anger he was beginning to feel. He knew there was no one to blame. Finally, Peter walked to the door and turned for one last look at Kate then did the hardest thing he had ever done. Peter said goodbye to the love of his life. He reached up with both hands and wiped his eyes and cheeks then turned and walked back to the room where Bob had first broken the news about Kate. After closing the door, he made his instinctive scan of the room then leaned back against the door. He slid down until he was sitting with his knees folded against his chest. His mind shut down as the tears began to flow.

Kate was the best thing that had ever to happen to Peter, and his was a life filled with accomplishments the average person could never achieve. As the time passed, and the tears lessened, his thoughts came back to the situation at hand—Peter Linwood was a single father. He stood and wiped his eyes and cheeks with his sleeves. He glanced around the room as he opened the door. Heartbroken, Peter headed home.

Peter was sitting on the porch swing of their large Craftsman-style home in Herald Harbor just north of Annapolis when the sun began to peek over the rooftop of the house across the street. When the blinding orange rays began to burn his bloodshot eyes, he rose slowly then reached into his pocket for his keys. After unlocking the door, he stepped through the doorway and tossed his keys on the bookshelf, as was his habit. Then it hit him. He was exhausted. He remembered a couple of tactical operations where he didn’t sleep for three days. Then there was one incident when he was alone in the jungle engaged in a face-to-face firefight with a dozen NVA soldiers. He didn’t remember being this tired even then.

He stood looking around the large living room as though he had never been in this home before. In addition to being one of the top pediatricians on the East coast, Kate had impeccable taste in colors and furniture. Peter loved the new playpen sofa. It allowed him to stretch out his long legs and relax. After climbing into the corner of the sofa, he scanned the bookshelves that encase the red brick fireplace on the far wall. His eyes were moving from one photo to the next when he realized that looking at pictures of Kate was renewing a pain like no other he had ever experienced. He lowered his head and closed his eyes. For the first time in Peter’s life, he felt empty and alone.

Damn it, Peter mumbled as he opened his eyes and stared at the phone that was screeching its annoying ring. He blew out a long breath as he snatched the handset from the phone cradle.

Hello.

Pete. It’s Mark. What’s going on man? I haven’t heard from you in a couple of days.

Sorry, Mark. I’m glad you called. I need to talk to you about my job.

What do you mean? You love your job.

I do, but things have changed. I have a little girl now.

Congratulations big guy. A girl, that’s great. How’s Kate?

Kate, Peter paused then said, She didn’t make it.

There was silence on the phone. Mark Woods had been Peter’s boss for the last two years and knew Peter Linwood better than anyone else in the CIA. When you’ve been through hell with another man, you develop a special relationship