Breaking Apart

By M.D. Wanda Venters and M.D. Mary Rae

"Rae and Venters have once again spun a medical murder mystery with precision, passion, and complexity. Breaking Apart takes you on a sexy and high-stakes ride."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Written Dreams Publishing
• Release date: Oct 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9781951375980

M.D. Wanda Venters

A native of Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, Wanda Venters, M.D. attended Yale for her undergraduate studies and returned to Oklahoma City for her medical degree. She completed her pediatric residency in San Antonio with the U.S. Army. Retiring from her pediatric practice after three decades, she began her second career as a writer in 2019. She lives in Colorado with her husband.

Book preview

Chapter One

Friday, May 10, 2019

A Denver native, Marnie Liccione knew the May dusting of snow would be gone by noon. It was 5:30 a.m., dark, and chilly. With equipment for her new office in her car, she drove through her quiet neighborhood to pick up her new friend, and now boss, Dr. Allison Vincent, who had moved into the neighborhood six months previously. Nearing retirement age, Allison was currently medical director of the Behavioral Health Clinic at the VA.

Allison came out of her door as Marnie drove up. Marnie admired her boss’s professional look—tan slacks, light floral print shirt, and navy blazer. Her short Afro had streaks of gray. I hope my black slacks and black top are not too depressing. Don’t need to appear like a forty-something in constant mourning.

As they drove up I-225, Marnie watched the sunrise light up the Denver skyline nestled in front of the Rocky Mountains. Aurora was a fast-growing city abutting the east side of Denver. The new Rocky Mountain VA hospital was built in a growing medical center which replaced the closed Fitzsimmons Army Base.

When the radio began airing a piece on veteran suicide, Allison turned down the volume. Like I need a reminder! I’m glad we got this neurofeedback trial approved. Your expertise in this field will be an invaluable addition to the clinic.

Thanks. It’s exciting to be able to contribute a new option to our veterans, Marnie said. She knew her friend was under a lot of pressure from the administration to lower the suicide rate for their patients. The neurofeedback study should give Allison a win. She’s tough. Had to be, to get through medical school in the 70s as a Black woman.

They were silent a moment, thinking about the work ahead as Marnie drove through the maze around the medical center.

Allison spoke first. Any word from Louise about her summer plans? Is she still coming to stay with you?

Oh yes, that’s been finalized. She’s coming up from Galveston to take a course at the VA for physicians making a mid-career change to primary care. She’s trying to find the right path forward. Being an ER physician has been harder with school-age children than it was when they were little. Her kids are going to be in the adventure camp in Breckenridge where Ellie Jean works, so they’ll be gone most of the time.

Sounds all settled. Those kids are lucky your daughter is a counselor there. As they pulled into the garage, Allison said, Why don’t you drop me at the entrance? I’ll go upstairs, get a dolly, and meet you at your car.

Sure, good idea.

After dropping Allison off, Marnie drove to a nearby parking spot. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. I can do this. It’s a new job and a new area of medicine. But I’m prepared. Damn! I feel like it’s the first day of high school—not a doctor with twenty years of experience.

She walked around to the passenger side of the car to grab some equipment, glancing at the pickup parked next to her. Blood splatter covered the driver’s side window.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Flashbacks to last summer’s tragedy suddenly ran through her mind. Not now. Stay focused. Remember your first responder training.

Dropping her backpack, she tried the truck’s door. Locked. She peered into the window and saw a body collapsed across the seat. She grabbed her phone from her backpack and dialed 9-1-1. While waiting for a response, she took the hammer from the tool kit for her new office.

This is 9-1-1. What is your emergency?

I’m in the parking garage of Rocky Mountain VA hospital, Level 2, south end. I’ve just discovered a person slumped in the front seat of a white Toyota truck. She walked to the front of the vehicle. Colorado license plate. Marnie gave the dispatcher the plate number.

She continued around the vehicle and tried to open the passenger side door. Blood is everywhere on the windows. The doors are locked.

Please stay on the line. I’ve activated a call for an ambulance and the police. They should be there in five minutes. What is your name?

Dr. Marnie Liccione. I’ve got a hammer and I’m going to break the window. The person might still be alive.

Before the operator could reply, Marnie put down her phone and swung the hammer on the driver’s side window. The tempered glass shattered and then crumbled. She put down the hammer and reached inside the window to unlock the door, ignoring the shards that cut her arm. She opened the door and was assaulted by the metallic smell of blood. She reached for the person’s wrist. Cold. No pulse. She leaned into the cab for a closer look. The right side of the person’s head was gone. She felt for a carotid pulse. None. She noticed a gun on the floor of the cab. She saw a tourniquet on the left arm and slowly backed out of the truck.

Sirens wailed from a vehicle coming up the garage ramps. She looked at her hands. They were beginning to shake. She was covered in blood. The memory of a beach in Galveston, blood everywhere, flooded her brain. Her knees buckled and she slid down the side of the truck.

Oh god. Oh god. Not again. She put her head down. Take more deep breaths.

The 9-1-1 operator was talking in the background. Are you still with us?

Yes, Marnie answered. She heard footsteps running toward her.

A voice called out, Put your hands up! Drop any weapons!

Marnie rallied, raising her hands. I don’t have any weapons. I’m the person who called 9-1-1. I’m also a physician. I was trying to see if the person was still alive—he’s not. He’s cold, no pulse. My phone is on the ground and a dispatcher is on the line.

With his gun drawn, the policeman slowly approached Marnie.

The 9-1-1 dispatcher echoed from the ground. Are the police there yet?

The policeman grabbed the phone. Officer Guttman at the scene. I have a woman sitting by a truck covered in blood. She said she made the 9-1-1 call.

The operator said, The phone is listed as belonging to Marnie Liccione and that is how the caller identified herself. Call came in four minutes ago.

Officer Guttman looked at Marnie. Marnie Liccione?

Marnie looked up.

Guttman said, Stay seated with your hands up.

The officer and Marnie turned to look as the EMTs arrived and hustled to the truck. After a few minutes, they looked at the officer and shook their heads.

Marnie started shaking. He was so young. How could his life have been so hopeless? Unable to keep her hands up any longer, she started sobbing.

Let me check you for any weapons, the policeman said.

Satisfied, he told her to lower her arms but to keep her hands in her lap. An EMT wrapped a blanket around her. More police arrived and cordoned off the crime scene.

As she pushed the dolly off the elevator, Allison saw the red and blue lights flashing in the parking garage. She ran to Marnie, who was seated in the back seat of a police car with the door open. Allison knelt to get at eye level with Marnie. What’s going on? Are you alright?

I’m not so good. Not badly hurt, despite all the blood on me. I got some glass cuts from the car window. It’s just so sad, Allison. He looked young. I’m having flashbacks to last summer—the shootout I told you about. They asked me to stay. More questions…

Let me talk to the police. I’ll be right back, Allison said. She stood and turned toward the truck and the crowd of police, EMTs, and hospital security gathered there. She pulled out her VA staff ID and approached the officer closest to the truck.

I’m Dr. Vincent. I’m on staff here. Dr. Liccione arrived with me just a few minutes ago. Can you tell me what’s going on?

An officer answered, I’m Officer Guttman. It appears that Dr. Liccione was the first on the scene. He nodded at the pickup. She’ll need to stick around to answer a few more questions.

Allison followed his gaze to the blood splattered broken glass beside the truck.

The victim’s dead. Can’t tell you anything else right now. Guttman turned away.

Allison’s mind was racing. This is horrible. Another suicide? In the parking garage? She made her way closer to the truck, ignoring the shattered glass crunching under her feet.

An officer emerged from the cab with a wallet. I’ve got his license. Name’s Joshua Baker. Got a VA ID, too. He rattled off the number as another officer added the information into a laptop.

Allison’s heart pounded. Not Josh, please let it be a mistake!

I need you to back up, ma’am, the officer said.

I might know this young man, Allison said. He was going to start working at our clinic in a few days.

The officer hesitated. It’s a pretty awful scene but if you want to look closer, I’ll let you make an ID.

Allison looked at the victim. She noticed the tourniquet on his left arm. Oh my god, it is Josh. Feeling nauseous, she confirmed his identity.

She made her way through the crowd and back to Marnie, still seated in the police car. She steeled herself. Marnie doesn’t need me to melt down.

Marnie said, They say I can leave in a few minutes. I’ve told them everything I saw. They have my contact information.

Are you going to be alright going home alone? Anyone I should call? Allison asked.

Wrapping the blanket tighter around herself, Marnie said, I’ll be okay. This patrolman is going to drive me home. The police will release my car from the crime scene later and inform me when I can come get it. They said they would take care of it and lock it up. I need to go home and clean up. Get in my safe place.

I’ll bring your purse and backpack this evening. Do you have another way to get into your house?

Marnie looked up and nodded. Wait. Do you know him? The victim?

Allison nodded sadly, tears streamed down her face. Afraid so. It’s Josh Baker, a former patient. He was one of our success stories. After two tours in Afghanistan, he came home with a traumatic brain injury, depression, and PTSD. He developed a heroin addiction. But, against all odds, he beat it.

Allison shook her head as they both looked toward Josh’s truck. He’s leaving behind a young wife. I’ll need to see her today. What on earth happened? I’m going to have to get to the clinic and…

"Hey, I’ll be checking on you tonight. Hang in there," Marnie said as the young officer got in the driver’s seat and started the car.

Ready? the officer asked.

Marnie gave Allison’s hand a squeeze and nodded to the officer. They drove off.

Allison walked back to the crime scene. A solidly built man in his forties with an air of authority and dressed in the slacks and jacket of a detective, approached her.

Dr. Vincent, I’m Detective Tikos. I understand you knew this young man.

Yes, unfortunately I do, she said. This is totally unexpected. He was supposed to start work in the clinic on Monday. The Behavioral Health Clinic. He had been one of our patients.

I’ll just need the big picture for right now. And your contact information. Does he have a partner, family?

Allison nodded. Yes, a wife, Amanda. She’s a nurse in our Traumatic Brain Injury unit.

Are you willing to come with me when I talk to her? the detective asked.

Of course. I’ll go to my office and check to see if she’s working today. You can meet me there. Come get me or call when you’re ready. She gave him her cell and office phone numbers.

Nodding a hello to the security guard nearby, Allison said, VA security can show you the way to my clinic.

Yes, Doc. I sure will, said Doug, the security guard.

As Tikos went back to the scene, Allison asked Doug, Will the equipment in Marnie’s car be safe?

I’ll make sure it’s locked before we leave the scene, Doug said.

It looks like another suicide, Doug. Doesn’t it?

Police are already grumbling that the boy looks like he was a user. That would make three this year, he said. But hey, Dr. V., don’t beat yourself up. You’re one of the best. You helped my son last year. We give thanks for his recovery and your help every day.

With a sad smile, Allison acknowledged his thanks. She took one more look at Josh Baker’s truck and shook her head. It’s still early. I’m going to have to pull myself together before the staff arrives. Oh, Jesus, how to explain what happened?

Thank you for the ride, Marnie said to the policeman.

Anytime, he said.

Marnie shuddered. Let’s pray never again. Still clutching the blanket, Marnie entered her home. Her two labradoodles danced around as if she had been gone for months, not hours.

Easy there, she said as she patted Jack on his brown, curly head and then bent to pat the smaller, but bossier, Harlee. I guess I smell awful.

She grabbed a garbage bag and headed to the bathroom where she peeled off her clothes and stuffed everything, including the blanket, into the garbage bag. She stepped into the shower and let the warm water pour over her. She looked at the red water as it went down the drain. Twenty years as a pediatrician and never got bloody. In the last twelve months, my husband, Adam, died in a rafting accident. My close friend, Gen, was murdered. I’ve been in a shoot-out and been the first responder to a bloody suicide. Ugh. Not what I bargained for. Tears ran down her face as she gently soaped her arms and looked over her cuts. Luckily, they seemed superficial. She’d get through this, too.

She dressed in exercise clothes, dropped the bloody bag in the trash can, and grabbed the dogs’ leashes. No way they were going to let her veg before a walk.

She emptied her mind and started a slow jog around her neighborhood. The pups excitedly kept pace. After three miles, they walked slowly up her front walk. Her perennial garden was just beginning to bloom. An oasis.

As she brewed a strong pot of coffee, she checked the time. One p.m. in Galveston. She sat on her back porch and called Louise.

What’s up? Louise asked.

I needed to hear your voice. Marnie took a deep breath. Today was my orientation at the clinic. It started with me finding a man shot in his pickup.

Oh Marnie, I’m so sorry. What happened? Was it suicide?

Probably. The police are looking into the situation. It brought back memories of last summer.

I bet. Where are you now?

Home. I’m rattled. Took the pups for a run. Since I don’t have Adam, I had to call you.

Anytime, Louise said.

The victim was supposed to start work in the clinic next week. Threw Allison for a loop as well.

Anything I can do for you?

Marnie heaved a sigh. Tell me that things are set for your class at the VA. Knowing that you’re coming soon helps.

All set on that front, Louise said. The kids and I will be there on schedule. The course looks good. I’ll feel better equipped to go from ER care to primary care after taking it.

Glad to hear it. Remember to pack for the changeable Colorado weather. The day started with a snow shower.

That’s hard to believe since it is 85 degrees here. Okay, jackets on the list.

Thanks for being there for me, Marnie said. I think all my prep for treating depression and suicidal ideation became a very real issue today. My god, what a terrible waste.

You’re going to help a lot of people, Marnie. Hang in there.

Talk soon. Take care, Marnie said, ending the call.

Louise hung up the phone. She was worried about Marnie. Again. She had hoped that Marnie’s new project was the beginning of a new chapter for her. It was off to a rocky start. It’s been a tough year for her—all of us, really.

Louise was using her day off to prep for her upcoming course at the Denver VA. Let’s take a break, Chico. The dog followed her to the front door, tail wagging as she clicked his leash on.

She headed down to the wildlife trail that crisscrossed the salt marsh. A breeze from the Gulf set up a ripple on the shallow water. She stopped to watch the roseate spoonbills wading purposefully through the reeds. The birds have inhabited this island for eons. They will be here for many more. The island’s peace filtered into Louise’s psyche. Chico tugged on his leash, and they resumed their walk.

Refreshed, she returned to her study.

Still up? Allison asked as Marnie answered the phone.

Yep. It’s only 8 p.m., even if it feels like midnight.

On my way with your stuff. The police said your car is locked and still parked in the garage. They said you could come get it. I’ll drive you in tomorrow.

Looking forward to seeing you.

Later, as Allison walked up the sidewalk, Harlee and Jack started barking.

Stop it, you silly pups. It’s only Allison.

When she opened the door, the two dogs burst outside.

Down! Marnie ordered.

Both dogs lay down. Now get back inside, you know the rules. They obediently went inside.

As soon as Allison crossed the threshold, the dogs exuberantly danced around her. Marnie rolled her eyes. About the only rule my pups must follow is to not to go out the front door without permission. Once you come inside, you’re fair game.

Allison smiled. I need a little enthusiasm and love right now.

Marnie gave her a hug. Come on to the back porch. I have the heater on. Glass of wine?

Allison nodded.

Marnie poured a glass of wine, got herself a beer and joined Allison on the porch.

As they settled into their chairs, Allison sighed. It was a rough day. You tell me how your day went and then I’ll tell you what happened.

Marnie summarized her day. After I spoke to Louise, I tried to meditate. Failing, I did four hours of serious weeding, thinning, and staking. Now I’m clean again and waiting to hear the news.

Allison looked at her friend. How are you emotionally?

I’m okay. Had some PTSD with this tragedy. I told you some things about the shootout last fall in Galveston. I don’t think I ever told you the details. It’s still hard for me to talk about. Looking at the scene today, I had a flashback to the investigation of my friend’s death. Louise’s husband, Didier, was critically injured. Louise, my ex-lover Chris, and I, barely escaped with our lives.

Wow, I can understand how today would bring all that back. Allison put her hand on Marnie’s arm. I sensed your reticence. I didn’t want to push you, but anytime you want to discuss it, let me know.

Tears filled Marnie’s eyes. I was afraid to overshare all my trauma from last year. It makes me feel jinxed. You’ve been so good to let me tell you about Adam dying. My darling, funny husband left on a rafting trip last May and died in a river accident five days later. Then, in late summer, my friend was murdered and I was involved in a shoot-out. It was a tough year.

Oh, Marnie. The last thing you need is more trauma. Have you been getting any therapy?

Marnie took a deep breath. Off and on. My therapist says I should put her on retainer.

Allison smiled at Marnie. I’m glad to hear you crack a joke. With Adam’s death anniversary coming up, maybe you should schedule an appointment.

Marnie smiled sadly. Sometimes, out of the blue, this strange peace surrounds me. Like Adam’s telling me that he’s okay. That I will have a different life than the one we had imagined together––but an interesting one.

They sat silently for a moment. Marnie shook her head as if to clear away the past memories.

Please tell me what happened after I left, Marnie said.

A nice detective took my statement. I think his name was Tom Mikos, or maybe Tikos.

Did you say Tom Tikos? I know him. I used to be his children’s pediatrician. He’s a nice guy. Glad he’s on the case. Go on.

I went back to the office and broke the news to my staff. Luckily, we had scheduled a morning meeting before the clinic started but an hour wasn’t enough time for anyone to process this tragedy. I had to reschedule my patients to other providers. Once the clinic was up and running, I went with Detective Tikos to see Amanda, the victim’s wife, who was working in the TBI unit. She was shattered. Crying, shouting… You can imagine. We got her settled down. I called her doctor for some medications. Her best friend and fellow nurse took her home. After that, I was basically in meetings from 10 to 3 with my superiors. It’s hard for me to draw the line on what they can expect us to accomplish. There is no quick fix for the trauma these young soldiers go through.

Marnie put her hand on Allison’s arm. I understand. I’ve had a traumatic twelve months. It’s taken all my strength and support systems to get through it. I can’t imagine how these young men and women keep going after months in a war zone. I think you help as many as anybody can.

I appreciate that, Allison said as she stood up. Time for me to go home. Tomorrow, I need to go check on Amanda. I was wondering if you could come with me. As a recent widow, you might be able to offer a personal level of support.

Gladly. I can’t shake the vision of that poor young man. I can relate to her complete sense of breaking apart.

After Allison left, Marnie found herself staring at the family pictures on the wall. They documented her family’s progressively exotic trips as Ellie Jean, their only daughter, grew up. She was turning twenty-one in a few weeks right after coming home from her year abroad in Amsterdam. They planned to go to the mountains and do some of their favorite family hikes, celebrate Adam’s life, and Ellie Jean’s birthday. She looked at the three of them smiling for the photographer as they went over the rapids on their last rafting trip together. Adam was glowing with excitement.

Had it only been two years since that picture was taken? His last trip with college friends had been years in the planning. The sudden loss of Adam had left her unmoored. Her amazing husband was gone. A death from a mass shooting would have been more likely. She had brazenly assumed that they would grow old together, fussing at each other because they didn’t have enough to do. She sank into a nearby chair. She missed Adam so much. Unbidden thoughts ran through her mind. I hope his death was quick. I’m still