Shades of Passion by Virna DePaul Page A

They were going to be a family again and Beth would forgive him for everything. She’d tell him she loved him again, he just knew it.
    He was still smiling as he approached the nurses’ station outside Beth’s room. As he got closer, however, his gait slowed. People were shouting. Medical personnel were scrambling around. There were police there, too. And was that...?
    Yes. Yes, it was. Leo. Beth’s boyfriend. But what was he doing here?
    The punk was sitting in a chair, sprawled out disrespectfully. When he caught sight of Lester, he grinned, waved and then pointed his finger at something.
    With a feeling of dread, Lester’s gaze followed the line of his finger.
    Shock slammed into him like a ton of bricks. His stomach heaved with nausea and his fingers grew numb. The bouquet of flowers and the stuffed puppy doll fell. As soon as they hit the ground, the flowers withered and died, but the puppy doll came to life. The puppy began running around Lester’s legs. Barking. Nipping. Trying to get his attention.
    But Lester’s attention was too focused on the horrific sight before him.
    Beth hung right in front of him now, suspended by a pink ribbon tied to the ceiling. Her eyes were open but empty. Her head lolled to the side as if she no longer had the strength to hold it up. As if she no longer had the life...
    She was dead, he realized. She’d hung herself with that pink ribbon. But where had she gotten it?
    Lester tore his gaze away from his daughter and looked around for help.
    The nurses. The police. Even Leo. Everyone was gone.
    Where had they all gone?
    “Dr. Whitaker?” he called out even though he had no reason to believe she was here. But she was Beth’s doctor, after all. She’d said Beth was getting better. So where was she?
    She needed to cut Beth down. Needed to bring her back to him, just like she’d said she would.
    “Dr. Whitaker, where are you? Beth’s tried to hurt herself again. You need to help her.”
    He started running, or at least he tried to, but no matter how fast his legs pumped, he gained no ground. It was as if he was running in place or on some kind of treadmill and Beth’s body stayed exactly where it was, swaying in front of him.
    Suddenly the pink band around his daughter’s neck lengthened. Like the stuffed puppy doll that Lester had dropped, it came alive. It swirled through the air, reaching out, winding itself around Lester’s body and throat, hissing like a snake.
    It was going to kill him, Lester thought, but as much as he wanted to be with Beth, he didn’t want to die. No, no, his mind screamed, he didn’t want to die. But he couldn’t escape, either.
    “Dr. Whitaker,” he screamed again. “Dr. Whitaker!”
    A shrill ringing sound ripped through the air, jolting Lester Davenport out of his nightmare. For a second, he continued to struggle for breath. Continued to believe he was being choked by the same ribbon that had taken Beth’s life. Then he realized he was simply trapped by bedding. That during his struggles, he’d pulled the twisted sheet tight against his neck until it felt like a noose. Desperately, he untangled himself from its grasp and scrambled out of bed.
    The phone rang again, but he didn’t even look at it.
    He covered his mouth with his hands and sobbed. Then he ran into the bathroom and emptied his stomach into the toilet.
    Long minutes later, he staggered out, returned to the bed and sat down. His bleary eyes took in the empty beer bottles littering the floor. He grabbed one that was half-empty and chugged down the contents. He swiped his hand over his mouth, then fell back. Just as he did, however, the phone rang again.
    Flinging his hand out, he grabbed the receiver and dragged it to his ear.
    “Hel—hello,” he croaked.
    “Mr. Davenport?”
    He frowned at the unfamiliar male voice on the other line. “Yes, this is Lester Davenport.”
    “Mr. Davenport, this is Rick Shannon with the San Francisco Reporter. I’ve been trying to contact