The Corked Incident
Prologue
Jamie leaned against the desk in the cramped office, arms crossed as he watched the others sift through stacks of folders and papers from physical therapy facilities that required signing. The whiteboard in the corner was cluttered with hastily erased notes from morning rounds, a testament to the relentless pace of the neurology service they all managed. However, also written on that whiteboard was the phrase; In Case of Emergency, don’t call us, call 911.
It was the end of another demanding week, but instead of heading home, the team was packing up for their annual scheduling discussion—this year, in an entirely new setting.
"I still think we could’ve done this at your place," Abby muttered, flipping through a printout.
"We’ve outgrown that," Traci countered, shoving a stack of documents into her bag. "Besides, I think we could all use a change of scenery."
“100%” Eve exclaimed.
Jamie sighed. "You just don’t want to sit in my kitchen again, fighting over who gets the last cup of coffee."
Lori chuckled from across the room. "Don’t act like you and Kayla don’t love hosting, Wine Doc. Kayla always has the best cookies—and you have the best wine."
"This isn’t about wine Lori," Jamie mockingly replied, rolling his eyes but unable to suppress a small smile. The nickname had stuck long ago, a playful jab at Jamie’s hobby that had somehow become part of his identity in the group.
Abby glanced at the clock. "If we don’t get moving, we’re going to hit traffic. Lake house or not, I’m not spending my Friday night in gridlock."
It was Sara’s idea to take the scheduling meeting offsite this year. What had once been a casual evening at Jamie and Kayla’s house had grown into an increasingly stressful ordeal, as the neurology service became busier, more demanding and grown in numbers with the addition of Lori. The lake house promised quiet, focus, and—hopefully—solutions to the growing challenges of balancing their call schedule.
"Alright, alright," Jamie said, grabbing his locked duffle bag and laptop. "Let’s hit the road. And for the record, I’m still skeptical about this place. Two hours away too? Damn!"
"You’re only skeptical because it’s near a lake," Nina teased, slinging her coat over one shoulder. "You can’t pretend you’re not going to enjoy this weekend."
The group laughed as they shuffled out of the office, their banter masking the undercurrent of tension that came with their work. Being advanced practice providers in neurology wasn’t just a job—it was a constant balancing act of critical cases, long hours, and the ever-present weight of responsibility. The retreat was a chance to step back, have some fun and rework the on-call schedule for the following year, but it was also a reminder of how much they relied on each other to keep things running smoothly.
As they headed for the door, Jamie hesitated, glancing back at the whiteboard. The mess of scribbles and numbers felt symbolic of their lives—always in motion, always a little chaotic. With a deep breath, he turned and followed the others, the quiet hope in his chest that this weekend might finally bring some relaxation.
Bottle 1: The Annual Retreat
The scent of pine and the crisp lake breeze filled the air as Lori stepped out of the car, her gaze sweeping over the secluded lake house nestled among the trees. It had been a year since the group of seven Advanced Practice Providers last gathered for their annual retreat. This year’s agenda was the same: work out their neurology on-call schedule, drink too much wine, and enjoy a weekend away from the stress of their hospital jobs.
Traci was the first to arrive, followed by Jamie and then Nina.
“First to arrive, first to pick bedroom.” Traci stated
“Have at it girl.” Nina said, “I am right behind you.”
Jamie picked third and as he entered his room, Traci greeted him like a cat springing from the bushes, “You know, I don’t appreciate how you switched our dictation microphones last week.”
“What are you talking about?” Jamie questioned.
“They told me you switched them out because yours was not working appropriately. Next time, just ask.” Traci angrily stated.
“Sure, no problem.” Jamie agreed quickly just to get her to go away so he could unpack but now, so startled by the confrontation, he just threw his duffel bag down, grabbed his waiter’s key and headed back downstairs.
Jamie, ever the life of the party, returned to his car after dropping the key off in the kitchen to unload his prized wine crate. "Ladies and gentlemen," he declared with a flourish, "The Wine Doctor for the weekend has arrived! Prepare your palates for an unparalleled journey."
Eve rolled her eyes with a smile. “We get it, Wine Doc. You’re fancy.”
Traci chuckled as she grabbed a bag of groceries. "Just don’t try to impress us with anything that requires more than two syllables. We’re here to relax, not study."
As the group trickled inside, laughter and banter filled the spacious living room. Abby and Nina were already inspecting the kitchen, and Sara was flipping through channels on the oversized TV. They all needed this weekend. The grind of back-to-back shifts and the pressure of saving lives were taxing, even for seasoned professionals like the seven of them.
Lori, the newest to the group, dropped her bag by the door and stretched. “This place is perfect. Who found it again?”
“That would be me,” Sara said sarcastically. “You’re welcome.”
“Well, Sara,” Nina said, peeking through the large glass doors leading to the deck, “I’ll admit, you nailed it. Look at that view! This is much better than just meeting at Kayla and Jamie’s house.”
Outside, the lake shimmered under the afternoon sun, framed by a backdrop of tall pines. The deck, complete with a fire pit and lounge chairs, promised long, lazy evenings.
Jamie walked in carrying a bottle of champagne, holding it aloft like a trophy. “Alright, enough soberness, Let’s christen this retreat properly. Who’s ready for the first pop?”
Abby smirked, leaning against the counter. “You sure you don’t want to save that for later? It’s not even five yet.”
“It’s a retreat, Abby. Time to ‘wine’ down,” Jamie shot back, expertly peeling away the foil.
The group gathered around the kitchen island as Jamie angled the bottle. “Now, observe,” he said, his voice adopting a faux-teacher tone. “The key to opening champagne is finesse. You don’t want it to explode—it should sound like the whisper of a princess and not the fart of a whore.”
“Just open it, Jamie,” Eve teased. “You say that every time.”
Jamie smiled but continued his mock demonstration, his fingers firmly gripping the cork. “Patience, my dear Eve. As I always say, nothing kills you faster than rushing—well, except for an on-call week of course.”
Everyone turned and annoyingly walked away into adjacent rooms. Jamie removed the cage and then worked on the bottle and cork.
“Where is everyone going” Jamie questioned.
They waved him off and while he remained in the kitchen, the others scattered into various nearby rooms. Jamie sat the bottle on the counter, cage, cork and all while attempting to persuade his friends to return. “Come on guys, I am just joking around” Jamie explained. He returned to the kitchen after acquiring zero takers for his demonstration.
“Well, I guess I will continue to unpack.” Jamie disappointingly stated. The bottle left on the island. Jamie reached into a box and began to unpack a few more bottles of wine placing each one on the rack in the kitchen. He then opened the refrigerator, when suddenly, he was jolted on the side of his head. Seeing stars, he yelled out for help. The group, startled by the sudden holler, turned back and ran into the kitchen.
By the time most of them returned to the kitchen, Jamie was seen staggering and then he fell onto the island. Traci, already present, dropped the bottle shattering it on the tiled floor. Jamie clutched his head, a stunned look on his face, before collapsing onto the rug.
“Jamie?” Lori’s laughter evaporated as she crouched beside him.
“Come on, Jamie, stop messing around,” Traci said, though her voice wavered.
Abby, the most neurology experienced among them (second to Jamie), knelt next to Lori, feeling for a pulse. “It wasn’t an accident” he whispered as he stopped breathing.
Abby “I cannot find a pulse”
The room erupted into chaos. Nina scrambled to grab the first aid kit from her luggage. Lori began chest compressions while Abby barked instructions.
“What the hell just happened?” Eve asked, her voice rising in panic.
“We need to get him stabilized. Can someone call 911?” Abby anxiously stated.
“Shotty signal” Eve reminded the group.
“I swear I did not do this” Traci stated, disbelief etched on her face. “How could—”
“Quiet!” Abby snapped, her focus unshaken. “We need to focus.”
As Lori continued compressions, Nina returned with the kit. “What should we do now? The hospital is hours away!”
Abby grabbed a bag valve mask from Nina’s kit and positioned it over Jamie’s mouth. “We stabilize him first. Then we figure out the rest.”
“Wait, there is glass everywhere” Sara said, her eyes scanning the floor.”
The group froze, their eyes darting to the shattered glass on the floor.
“What the hell is going on?” Eve whispered.
The tension in the room thickened as Abby continued to pump air into Jamie’s lungs.
“Keep going, Lori,” Abby said, her voice calm but firm. She shifted her position to check Jamie’s pupils with the small flashlight from the kit. “Damn it, his pupil is blown. He must have some sort of bleed. He is herniating.”
“This doesn’t make sense,” Nina said, pacing the room. “What happened?”
“I have no idea” Traci replied, though she sounded uncertain.
“You have no idea?” Sara interrupted. “You were in here with him!”
“I was not! I got in here just before all of you.” Traci defensively stated. “I grabbed the bottle on my way in! Hell, you, Sara, didn’t even come in until after they started CPR.”
“Shut it” Eve suggested, though her voice quivered.
Lori grunted with effort as she continued chest compressions. “Can we stop arguing? Jamie’s dying over here!”
Nina stopped pacing, her hands on her hips. “And what are we supposed to do, Lori? We’re in the middle of nowhere with no signal and no hospital for miles. If we don’t figure this out—”
“Enough!” Abby snapped, her voice cutting through the panic. “We’ll debate physics later. Lori, switch with me. I’ll do compressions.”
Lori leaned back, her arms trembling from exhaustion, and Abby immediately took over. “Eve, grab your cell phone; Nina, check the landline to see if it’s working since our cell phones keep cutting in and out. Traci, look for anything that could help—ice packs, towels, anything.”
The room buzzed frantically with energy as everyone scrambled to follow Abby’s instructions. Nina darted toward the phone on the wall, lifting the receiver to her ear. Her face fell.
“It’s dead. No dial tone.”
“Of course it is,” Sara muttered. “Classic horror movie setup. No cell signal and now no dial tone.”
“This isn’t a joke!” Nina snapped, slamming the receiver back into place.
“Who is laughing Nina?” Sara shot back.
Meanwhile, Traci returned with a bag of frozen peas and a dish towel. “This is all I could find in the freezer.”
Abby gestured for her to apply it to Jamie’s temple. “Better than nothing. Keep the swelling down while we try to stabilize him.”
“Should we drive him to the hospital?” Lori asked, her voice tinged with desperation.
“And risk moving him with a suspected brain bleed?” Abby shook her head. “Not unless it’s our only option.”
As they worked, Eve crouched near the broken glass, her eyes narrowing. “This... this isn’t right. Look at the label. It certainly does not appear normal at all. It appears altered and certainly not made from any winery. It sure appears as if somebody must’ve swapped it.”
“Swapped it?” Traci echoed. “When? We’ve all been here together the whole time.”
“Sure, but we all were in different rooms. That is, unless someone planted it,” Eve said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And? Girl, you were holding it when we arrived!”
“What the hell are you saying?” Nina demanded, crossing her arms.
“Yeah!” Traci reiterated Nina’s thought.
Eve stood with a grim expression. “I’m saying someone could’ve tampered with the bottle. Maybe it wasn’t an accident; like Jamie said.”
The room fell silent, except for the rhythm of Abby’s compressions. The possibility hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.
“That’s insane,” Sara said, though she looked more unnerved than convinced. “Why would anyone, let alone, any of us want to hurt Jamie? That doesn’t make sense.”
“Does any of this make sense?” Eve shot back. “Where were you when this all went down?”
“Oh, stop it. Now, is not the time Eve.” Sara said.
“If he doesn’t wake up soon, we’ll have no choice but to risk the drive. Wait, I have a dial tone. I am calling 9-1-1.” Nina mentioned.
Lori broke the silence. “If this wasn’t an accident..., are we saying it’s one of us who did this to Jamie?”
Nina shouted “they will be here in 45-60 minutes”
Lori’s words hit like a thunderclap. No one spoke, their eyes darting around the room, scanning each other’s faces for signs of guilt or betrayal.
“Stop,” Abby said firmly. “We’re not jumping to conclusions. Right now, our priority is Jamie. 60 minutes Nina? Are you serious”
“That’s what they said. They told me that we are literally in the middle of nowhere” explained Nina.
But as the group huddled together, trying to make sense of the chaos, one thought refused to leave anyone’s mind: If this wasn’t an accident, who could they trust?
The revelation of mismatched label raised suspicions that Jamie’s accident might have been orchestrated, leaving the group to grapple with the chilling possibility of foul play.
Bottle 2: An Unlikely Accident
The sun dipped below the horizon, its golden light reflecting off the lake in shimmering ripples. Inside the cabin, the mood was anything but serene. Abby, still kneeling beside Jamie, checked his vitals for what felt like the hundredth time. Jamie, who was subsequently moved to the living room for what Nina believed to be more comfortable for him, lay motionless and pulseless.
Lori, still compressing the bag valve mask every so often, nervously asked, “He should have a pulse by now, right? This... this isn’t normal.”
Abby exhaled sharply; her hands steady but her voice betrayed her frustration. “We are doing everything we can. EMS is on the way.”
“Should we just give up at this point?” Sara asked
“Oh, you’d love that miss I wasn’t even there when this happened.” Lori sarcastically exclaimed.
“Oh, shut up Lori, I am just as upset as you.” Sara shot back.
Traci sat cross-legged on the floor, her back against the wall. “Should we be doing more?”
“And what do you suggest we do?” Abby snapped. “We’re hours away from the nearest ER and EMS said that we were in the middle of nowhere”—her glare briefly shifted to Eve, who rolled her eyes— “and even if we got him there, there’s no guarantee they’d do anything we are not already doing other than intubate him.”
“We could do a cric” Nina casually mentioned.
“Good grief Nina” Abby said with her mouth wide open as if she never heard such an egregious recommendation.
“Damn it!” Sara chimed in; her arms crossed as she leaned against the kitchen doorway. “We still do not even know what happened.”
Eve’s voice was sharp, her pace quickening. “What if there’s more going on here? Traci, you were there when we arrived; and you were holding the bottle!”
“I swear I did not do this.” Traci exclaimed “Why don’t you pester Sara, to ask her whereabouts instead of me? Plus, she wants to off him now anyway.”
“Oh, shut up Traci” Sara angrily shot back.
“Here we go,” Nina muttered, rubbing her temples. “Eve’s diving headfirst into one of her conspiracy theories again.”
“It’s not a conspiracy theory, girl!” Eve shot back. Her eyes were blazing. “Something’s not right about this. Bottles don’t just get switched and people don’t get knocked unconscious that easily. Jamie’s got the reflexes of a damn cat. How did this happen? That is, unless he had his back turned to whomever whacked him.”
“Eve!?! Maybe it’s just stress,” Sara offered flatly, her tone practical. “Fatigue? Too much wine, maybe?”
“And you seriously think that is all it is? Jamie died because of stress?” Eve retorted.
“Jamie is not dead!!!” Abby cried out “He seems to have a faint pulse. But keep bagging”
“Come on, Sara. You’re the one who’s always talking about looking deeper. Aren’t you even a little curious about how strange this is? And furthermore, Jamie had not even started drinking and did not fall until we got there. Well, until most of us came into the kitchen I guess.”
“Come on Eve, stop it” Sara pleaded.
“What if he just bumped his head?” Lori asked.
“Enough!” Abby’s voice cut through the escalating argument like a scalpel. “This isn’t helping Jamie one bit. And unless someone has actual proof that something shady happened, we are treating this as an accident. Period. Plus, the police are coming with EMS, I am sure. If we start accusing one another, so will the police and we do not need that at all. This was just an accident! Got it?”
For a moment the room fell silent, except for the hum of the ceiling fan overhead.
Then a faint groan broke the tension.
“Jamie?” Lori rushed to his side as his eyelids fluttered weakly.
Jamie let out a low, painful sound, he was gone.
Abby leaned in, “Shit! He’s gone.”
Abby nodded, refocusing her attention on Jamie’s vitals, or lack thereof.
Sara stepped into the kitchen, her steps slow and deliberate. But as she approached the counter, she froze.
“Uh... guys?” Her voice was tense, sharp enough to draw everyone’s attention.
Abby sighed, exasperated. “What now, Sara?”
“Someone’s been in here.” Sara mentioned.
The group crowded into the kitchen; confusion etched across their faces. Sara pointed to the refrigerator door, which hung slightly ajar. A faint trail of condensation streaked from the fridge to the counter.
“Did anyone leave this open?” Sara asked, her voice tight.
“No,” Traci said, glancing around. “We’ve all been in the living room since... you know.”
Eve crouched near the adjacent corner of the kitchen, her sharp eyes catching a glint of something small and round. She reached out, her fingers brushing against it before lifting it into the light.
“What is that?” Nina asked, leaning closer.
“It’s the cork,” Eve said, her voice low.
“I wondered where that went!” Traci reflexively responded.
The group fell silent as they stared at the object in her hand. The glass-free cork looked splintered, its edges jagged, embossed with wording which were written in French. Faint traces of a sticky, amber-like residue clung to its surface.
“Is that... glue?” Lori asked, her voice trembling.
Eve turned the cork over in her fingers, her expression darkening. “I don’t know if it’s glue or molasses, but it is definitely sticky.”
Abby, who had now finally left Jamie’s side, grabbed the cork from Eve, inspecting it with a clinical eye. Her jaw tightened. “This doesn’t make sense.”
“It makes perfect sense,” Eve said, her voice hard. “As I have been stating, someone switched the bottle! Which, if it was not one of us proves that someone else had to be in this house.”
“How are you so sure that someone switched the bottles?” Nina asked, “It is literally just a cork.”
“Look! these words” as Eve pointed on the cork, “these words on the cork are in French.” Eve continued “The label on the bottle did not look French. This cork says, La Cuvée blah blah blah and Jamie previously taught us that the cork and label matching is how wineries prevented fraud.”
“Really?” Traci asked “Fraud?”
“Yes” Eve answered. “This is why a waiter will present the cork to you at a table in a restaurant. It is not for you to smell and look all fancy, but rather for you to look at the cork and the label to ensure the name on the cork matches the name on the label. The label and the cork must always match. This cork and that label do not match!” As she gestured to the table where the label currently rested.
The realization sent a ripple of unease through the group. The air seemed to grow heavier, the shadows longer.
The tampered bottle revealed that Jamie’s death was quite possibly deliberate. Suspicion fell within the group, each member now wondering: Who could have done this—and why?
Bottle 3: A Pattern Emerges
The living room was eerily quiet, the warmth of the fire doing little to dispel the chill that had settled over the group. Jamie’s lifeless form lay on the floor, his chest unnaturally still. Abby knelt beside him.
“This doesn’t add up,” Nina muttered, pacing back and forth. She hugged herself tightly, her steps quick and anxious. “It just doesn’t make sense.”
Traci sat hunched on the arm of the couch, her arms wrapped around her knees. “It’s not possible,” she said firmly, though her trembling voice betrayed her fear. “This doesn’t happen to someone like Jamie. It’s too... freakish.”
“Traci,” Eve said softly but firmly. “You don’t know that. We all know Jamie. He always had a flare for the dramatic. He might’ve done something careless.”
Traci’s head snapped up. “Are you saying this is his fault?”
“That’s not what she is saying,” Lori replied, her voice hardening. “She is saying that sometimes shit happens.”
“Shit happens?” Sara said with a puzzled look on her face as if she could not believe Lori suggested that.
“Yeah, shit happens Sara!” Lori snapped back.
Abby stood and turned to face the group. “We can’t let our emotions get the better of us. Right now, we need to focus.” She swallowed hard, unwilling to finish the thought.
Sara, leaning against the fireplace mantel, crossed her arms. “The real question is: did something—or someone—cause this?”
The room fell silent as the weight of her words sunk in.
“I’ve been thinking about earlier,” Nina said hesitantly, breaking the quiet. “Jamie wasn’t himself tonight. He seemed distracted, like he had something on his mind. He just wasn’t his usual self.”
“What do you mean?” Eve asked, her brow furrowing.
Nina gestured vaguely toward the table where the broken champagne bottle rested. “You know how he always made a big production about it? Talking about the vintage, the technique, all that sommelier stuff? Tonight, he just... rushed it. Like he was nervous.”
Traci shifted uncomfortably, her arms tightening around herself. “I noticed that too,” she said softly. “He kept checking his phone. He looked... worried.”
“Worried about what?” Eve asked, her tone sharp. “Kayla and the girls were having fun at the waterpark. They are fine.”
Nina snuck in under her breath, “Well, they won’t be when they hear about this.”
“I don’t know what he was worried about,” Traci admitted. “I didn’t ask. I figured he’d talk about it when he was ready.”
Abby walked over to Jamie’s side, his phone lying beside. She hesitated, glancing at his still form. “If he was worried about something, maybe it’s on here, holding up his phone.”
“Wait,” Traci said, standing quickly. “We can’t just go through his phone and stuff. That’s not right.”
“Traci,” Abby said, her voice calm but firm, “we need answers. If there’s something on this phone that explains why Jamie was acting so strangely, we must know. For him.”
“But do we really Traci?” Eve questioned.
Traci hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line, but finally stepped aside. Abby unlocked his phone by flashing it in Jamie’s lifeless face and began scrolling through the messages. Her expression darkened as she held up the screen for the others to see.
The message was from a number not listed in his contacts.
“I know you can’t wait forever. Now, share your location, so I can do what needs to be done.”
The group collectively inhaled, the words carrying an ominous weight.
“What does that even mean?” Sara asked, her voice tight.
Abby scrolled further, revealing more messages from the same number:
“The cost is too great.” Mysterious Number
“It’s fine, just do it.” Jamie
“Well, this is on you. Consider it done. I will handle everything.” Mysterious Number
Eve’s face went pale. “Shit; Jamie was in some kind of trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?” Lori asked, her voice trembling. “We’ve known him for years. If he was dealing with something this big, wouldn’t he have told us? Maybe at least some of us.”
“Maybe he didn’t think he could,” Sara said. “Or maybe...” She hesitated, her voice lowering. “Maybe he thought one of us was involved.”
“This is all crazy, what are you implying?” Traci asked, her tone defensive.
Sara locked eyes with her. “I’m saying we don’t know what Jamie was dealing with. And until we do, we can’t rule out anything—not even that someone here might have played a part.”
The accusation landed like a bomb, sending shockwaves through the group.
“That’s insane,” Traci snapped. “We’re his friends! None of us would ever hurt him.”
“Then tell us what really happened while you two were in the kitchen.” And though Eve made the statement, they all were thinking it. But before Traci could respond, Abby chimed in.
“Enough,” Abby said sharply, cutting through the rising tension. “Pointing fingers isn’t going to help us. We need to keep our heads and figure out what’s going on.”
Eve crossed her arms, her expression icy, “And how do you propose we do that?”
Abby glanced back at Jamie’s still form, her jaw tightening. “We wait for help. They are probably not far out at this point. In the meantime, we keep looking for answers. If there’s something we’re missing—something Jamie was hiding—we must figure it out.”
