MacJames walked over and stood by the bed. She placed her hand on his cheek and kissed him on the forehead. The nurse entered the room.
“Honey let me clean him up,” the nurse said. “I’m sorry, the doctor told me to get his meds pumping. I didn’t think anyone would be in to see him so soon.”
MacJames stepped aside while the nurse opened sterilized packages of gauze and started to clean his neck and chest.
“Is this your husband, honey?” the nurse asked.
“No, we’re friends.” MacJames could not take her eyes off Mitchelli’s face. When the nurse pulled down the sheets that covered his chest, MacJames was shocked. His body was covered in dried blood and half his chest was shaved on his left side. His body had not been cleaned from surgery and the nurse began wiping the blood off his chest and neck. MacJames had never seen a gunshot wound. His skin surrounding his shoulder wound was deep black. The blood vessels and soft tissue had been severely damaged by the bullet.
“Miss, they usually don’t let friends in the intensive care unit,” the nurse said. “My, he has the prettiest eyelashes. How does a man get such long eyelashes? It just isn’t fair. I suggest you keep your distance, because the doctor who did his surgery thinks she’s his only friend. You don’t want to get in her way.”
Coarseni walked in and stood by Angela at the end of the bed. “How’s he doing?” he asked. He looks pretty good to me. Don’t worry he’ll be fine. Is he losing weight? Jesus, he looks a mess. Do you think he’ll live? He’s not going to make it.”
Before MacJames could answer, she heard the sound of high heels clicking on the hallway floor outside the curtain. The curtain jerked opened and the nurse quickly responded to the woman. “Good morning, Doctor Stazi.”
Stazi responded, “Who are these people? They are not family. They shouldn’t be in here.” She immediately went over to Mitchelli’s side and lifted a corner of the bandage to check her work. The doctor was tall, at least five foot nine, dark blonde hair, brown eyes, and was wearing a short skirt, too short for her height. She was in excellent shape but her breasts were large, too perky for a woman in her mid-forties.
Coarseni whispered to MacJames, “Wow, I bet you those boobs aren’t real, geez she’s taller than me. They can’t be real, do you think their real? Man I love falsies.”
Stazi had checked the shoulder wound and almost whipped the sheet entirely off Mitchelli exposing his bare body to everyone in the room. She quickly covered his private areas. As she looked under the bandage at his waist, she gently pushed on the wound, moving her fingers in a circular motion.
MacJames dared to speak. “Doctor, we work with Peter. Could you please tell us how he is doing?”
Stazi looked at her suspiciously. “I’ve known Peter and his family for over fifteen years and I have never seen either one of you at the office or his home. You are not his immediately family, why are you here?”
Coarseni blurted out, “Look Doc, who the hell--,” but MacJames stopped him. She did not want him telling the doctor who they were. She wanted an answer from the doctor, not a fight.
MacJames tried to speak calmly. “Doctor, you’re correct, we are not family but we do work with Peter, we’re his partners in several real estate developments. I was with him when he was mugged. I’m his girlfriend.”
Stazi’s head quickly turned towards MacJames. “You a little old to be his girlfriend. He never told me he had a girlfriend, he could have told me I would’ve--,” Stazi stopped. MacJames had unintentionally struck a nerve. The Mitchellis were well known around town. Doctor Stazi could be one of the many women who took an interest in Mitchelli after his wife’s death. She could have been one of the friends who had dropped off dinners at his house or offered to be an escort to fundraisers. Stazi thrust her shoulders back as if she was trying to punch MacJames in the face with her breasts. She studied his chart as if no one else was near her. She then lifted Mitchelli’s left eyelid carefully studying his eye.
Finally, Stazi spoke in a firm manner, attempting to hide her polish accent. “Peter is a strong man; he lost a lot of blood. You should have gotten him here sooner, or tried to slow the bleeding. I am a great doctor, of coarse he is recovering as expected. His vitals were low when he first came in; almost too low to operate. He is a special man, a strong man. The Mitchellis don’t deserve another tragedy. I’ll be back in two hours to check on him. He should be waking up soon.”
MacJames thanked the doctor. Coarseni could not stop looking at her breasts and MacJames gently nudged him as the doctor turned to leave the room. MacJames called Mitchelli’s brother Pat and explained that she had been dating his brother and how he had been mugged. Pat was calm; he questioned MacJames at length about his injuries and asked what doctors were taking care of him. Pat went on about how many doctors he knew and how he wanted them to look at his brother. He agreed to tell the rest of the Mitchellis, except for Peter’s mother-in-law.
MacJames didn’t want to leave the hospital. She wanted to stay with Mitchelli, but she had to drive to his house and speak to his mother-in-law. She was confident Mitchelli was going to be ok. She was determined; she had to be strong.
When MacJames arrived at the house, she told Mitchelli’s mother-in-law that Peter had been mugged and shot, but was recovering. She was stunned how well Lillian took the bad news. She cried, then hugged MacJames, but remained calm and confident. She insisted her son-in-law was tough and would overcome his injuries. She would tell the children after school and requested that MacJames give her updates on his condition. MacJames headed back to the hospital.
Mitchelli had been moved to a recovery room, a sign that his vitals were stabilizing. The Mitchellis waited for MacJames and greeted her as she walked into the room. They hugged and kissed her as if she had been a member of the family for years. MacJames had never received such warmth and affection from any of her previous in-laws. She found all the Mitchellis to be very genuine individuals; critical, but with good humor. Beth went on how she hated that boat and the Marina was not a safe place for the kids. Pat had called three of his doctor friends on his way down, two of which had already checked on his brother. Phillip kept asking MacJames what she did for a living; he was always concerned about money. He was trying to figure out how much MacJames made a year. MacJames’s vagueness frustrated him.
Flowers were not allowed in the room but it was quickly filling up with balloons and candy. Mitchelli had been in the hospital for less than eight hours and the room was already beginning to overflow with get-well gifts.
Pauli was keeping everyone’s spirits up; he kept imitating how angry his brother would be when he came to and realized he’d been shot. He roared like a lion, and he kept pointing his unconscious brother’s finger at everyone shooting. “You’re going to mug me, bang, bang, bang, sorry, Angela, did you say hug? I thought you said mug?” All had tears in their eyes from laughter. They were concerned for their brother, but they welcomed the comic relief.
“Oh wait till he feels comfortable with you,” Beth said. “Don’t make him mad, he yells.”
Phillip nodded. “He’s very opinionated and critical--he criticizes everyone. He’ll drive you crazy.” They cried as they told MacJames their brother’s faults. They were a close family.
They asked MacJames how long she had been dating their brother and she told them it had been less than a month. Just then, Mitchelli began to regain consciousness. MacJames watched as Beth, Paul, and Phil yelled at their brother asking how he felt, as if the gunshots had rendered him deaf. Patrick kept his wits and left the room to tell the nurse his brother was conscious.
CHAPTER 16
Freed had his report of the night’s events delivered to MacJames. She vacated Mitchelli’s room as instructed by the nurses. She spent the afternoon reading the report in the hospital lobby. As she read the report, she was surprised how candid Freed was in his account of the evening’s events. Usually his reports were dry, to the point, and contained few unnecessary details.
This report was full of details, many of which did not pertain to the case but how Mitchelli performed during the crisis. Freed even mentioned Mitchelli putting his hand in his mouth to quiet him, and the tactical reload he performed. He had downplayed his role in the incident, as well as Buckala’s. The report also detailed the events that led up to deciding to make the grain elevator and the inner harbor the focus of the investigation. Again, Freed directed most of the credit towards Mitchelli. As she read the report, she began to question the sheer coincidence of Mitchelli’s discovery and recruitment. The impact he made on the case was atomic, to say the least. The probability of his success was so unlikely, even Mitchelli found his role hard to accept as significant. She remembered Secretary Stuart’s comment: you need a criminal to catch a criminal.
MacJames studied the people coming and going from the hospital on this rainy afternoon. She watched mothers herding their children, men buying flowers in the gift shop, young couples holding hands, and employees chatting over cappuccinos in the coffee shop. All were going about their own business, clueless a civilian just like them had been plucked out of his daily routine to assist in a national security case that had gone cold. Amazed, she shook her head. Where would Mitchelli be now if he had not been discovered by Freed? Angela get ahold of yourself, what’s the matter with you? Are you starting menopause? Her emotions and hormones were out of sorts. She had seen this type of behavior with her older female friends. She was falling in love with the savior of the investigation. Was it a dream? No, she was in love. She liked his children, especially Kaitlin. His siblings impressed her with their sincerity and affections. Even his mother-in-law was gracious to her. Not only had Freed selected the key individual to jump-start the investigation, MacJames was convinced he had discovered the man and his family she would hope to spend the rest of her life with.
MacJames’s hands trembled as she continued to read the report, realizing selfishly that the man she loved almost died twenty hours ago. She had to learn more about him so she could get to know the real Peter Mitchelli. She could not wait any longer, she had to see him, touch his hand, and look into his brown eyes. She quickly walked to the elevator and stared at the floor indicator as it changed, nervously smiling and thinking to herself that she was crazy. How could she feel this way already? They hadn’t known each other for that long. She hoped he was awake. She had to hear his voice.
She rushed off the elevator and walked into his room. The only light in the room was from his heart monitor; it cast a dim light on his upper body, but the rest of the room was black. His eyes were closed and his bed was slightly elevated. She stood beside his bed holding his hands and kissing his forehead. His eyes opened slowly. He squeezed her hand and then put his arm around her waist, pulling her towards the bed to sit beside him. She looked into his painfully tired eyes, remembering she had seen this look before when she had cared for him in Quantico. At first, they said nothing; MacJames looked into his eyes and began to cry. Mitchelli with his right hand wiped the tears from her face. Even in the dim light, her eyes were beautiful.
MacJames whispered, “I’m so sorry, I got you into this. Peter, we almost lost you last night. I wouldn’t be able to face your children if anything happened to you.” She put her hand on the side of his face. “I’m a professional, we’re colleagues; I can’t explain it…Quantico, your children, your brothers and sister are great. That damn perfect day on the boat. I may have to pull myself off the case. Peter, I’m in love you.”
The massive painkillers made Mitchelli extremely fatigued. Though heavily sedated, he knew the drug smugglers would find the men who took their three hundred million in heroin. The Mitchelli Mind Kill focused on leaving the hospital so he could protect his children and solve the case. He had to use MacJames to get out of the hospital.
He searched for the right words, “It’s been the devils day.” He closed his eyes, “Angela if you leave this case, you abandon me. I have to finish what I started, and I can’t do it without your help, more importantly as my…” His eyes closed, MacJames could see the perspiration on his face caused by the migraine. He was thinking of his wife, he did not know what to call MacJames, up until this week he had only loved one woman, now he cared for another who he trusted with his life and his children. The Mitchelli Mind Kill was fueling the headache; the guilt over loving another woman. “They’ll want their junk and they’re going to look long and hard for it. I need your help; I need to get out of here. Peter and Kaitlin, you have to make sure Freed protects them.”
“Yes, don’t worry, they’ll be safe. I can ease your mind, talk to me, please tell me your thoughts?” Mitchelli closed his eyes--he was out, overwhelmed by the drugs. MacJames suddenly realized they were not alone in the room; she turned and looked beyond the foot of the bed. Hidden in the dark was a man sitting in the chair. Startled, she turned towards him.
Dr. Rubin cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, at first I thought you knew I was here. Then when you were talking, I did not want to interrupt. I’m Peter’s psychiatrist, Fritz Rubin. I was waiting here for an hour hoping he would wake up before I left, then you walked in and one touch of your hand and he’s awake.”
“I wish you would have made your presence known, my God, I must have sounded like a stupid school girl.” She wiped the tears from her eyes.
“Ms. MacJames, may I call you Angela?”
“How do you know my name?”
“I am a good psychiatrist, but I am not clairvoyant. Peter’s brother Phillip calls me whenever he is worried about him. He keeps a close watch on him. I’ll warn you, Phillip may insist you sign a prenuptial just to date his brother.”
“Peter never mentioned he was seeing a psychiatrist. The truth is I haven’t known him for very long and he doesn’t talk much about his personal feelings, other than Ann.”
“Why do you think I didn’t interrupt? I was hoping he would open up to you, tell you what he’s thinking. You see Ms. MacJames, most of the time I don’t feel like I’m his psychiatrist, because the man you’re in love with won’t tell me truly what he is thinking. I can’t get inside his head either. We share the same frustration, you and I, Ms. MacJames.”
“Why does Peter need a psychiatrist, for his migraines?”
Dr. Rubin got up from the chair and MacJames could see he was in his late fifties, possibly sixties. “I am afraid I cannot tell you why I treat Peter; doctors do have an obligation to our patients’ confidentiality, plus our government laws. He must care for you very much or he would not have said what little he did to you. Mitchellis do not lie; Peter maneuvers around the truth convincingly by not disclosing what is truly on his mind. I am happy for you, I hope things work out, he is a good man, he is unique. There are women, three or four in this very hospital that would kill to be sitting on that bed, holding his hand while he wiped their tears away. You’re right about his family, I’ve known them for thirty years. I knew his parents, wonderful people. The Mitchellis are a decent, hard working family. I know all of them very well, but Peter is unique. I know only what he wants me to; he feeds me minute feelings here and there.” He walked towards the bed, staring at Mitchelli as he spoke.
He looked towards her. “Ms. MacJames, I don’t know what case you’re working on, and I don’t want to know. I’d presume it has something to do with his gunshot wounds. I never believed he was mugged. No mugger would pick a mark as menacing as Peter. He’s big, who would mess with him! I’m not going to inquire about the case. I’m sure your agency has confidentiality rules also. I can tell you one thing: Peter Mitchelli will not rest until he finishes what he has started. Peter will focus his entire being: He will make enduring sacrifices risking his life. But he will finish or die trying. Your case will be solved, though he could perish in the process. With that said, I must go. Mrs. Rubin gets nervous when I’m out late; she thinks I drive my Porsche recklessly. Peter has found himself a beautiful caring woman. Hold on to him.”
***
Somewhere in the city of Buffa
lo, the only thug Mitchelli chose to remain living lay bedridden. Brian Mores had a military doctor from the Veteran’s Hospital stabilize the bullet wounds. The doctor’s work was sufficient. He had treated hundreds of American soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan. The thug would live, that was the only promise the veteran doctor would make. The thug was on a strong dose of painkillers. His treatment would be minimal, the goal merely to keep him alive in an attempt to get as much information as possible out of him. There would be no record of his arrest; in the defense of national security he was seized, temporarily detained.
The FBI ran the thug’s prints and quickly came up with a match, Mitchell Garez. He was a hired hand, working freelance for several underworld families, or colossal gangs in present day terminology. Colossal gangs did not claim street corners, cities, or even states; colossal gangs dominated regions. They sold their drugs and contraband cigarettes to smaller, less sophisticated city gangs. Chicago police had held Garez for questioning on several occasions. He was smart, tough to interrogate, and he had never squealed, thus the investigations went nowhere.
Mind Kill- Rise of the Marauder Page 20