by Keene, Susan
I closed my eyes and tried to picture what I saw earlier. “They were unisex, both the pants and the boots. The kind of boots you see when you’re hiking. They had a crepe sole. The cuffs were narrow. I would say the person was thin, and tall.”
Two paramedics came racing through the bushes. The first thing they wanted was for me to let go of Digger so they could move my arm. I told Ryan I would let them treat my arm if he promised to take the dog upstairs to Amy immediately.
He said yes, but he was back in an instant so he probably delegated the job to one of his men.
“This isn’t bad,” the paramedic, whose badge read Logan, told Ryan. “Only a flesh wound. It must have come with a lot of force to go clean through like that.” He kept talking. I knew it was to take my mind off the pain as they maneuvered my arm to dislodge the stick. “I heard my dad talk about these kinds of weapons in Viet Nam. He said the Viet Kong would rig up thirty or forty giant slingshots and then have some sort of trigger so when the enemy stepped on a certain spot it would release all of them. Lots of our guys died that way.”
“So this is an Asian thing?” I asked.
“Yeah, I guess it is,” he replied.
Ryan said nothing. He stroked my other arm and wiped my forehead periodically. I could feel sweat dripping into my eyes, in spite of his best efforts. It felt like hours passed before the stick came out of my arm. It missed the bone but it looked like someone took a big bite. Once it was free, the pressure let up and I felt better.
“You need to go to the hospital and get checked out. There might be some bark in the wound. We’re going to apply a pressure bandage so this thing won’t bleed, but it won’t hold for long, so don’t think you can skip going in. Or we can take you now, with us?” The medic sounded serious.
“No,” Ryan said. “We’ll bring her over as soon as I’m sure my man is okay.
“Yeah, that’s pretty horrible.” From the look on his face, I didn’t think he meant to say that.
Ryan nodded and helped me up. We stood quietly while the EMTs added a sling to my outfit. Then we walked toward all noise, and Doug.
Doug was pasty white. He had lost a lot of blood. I could tell he was conscious. His eyes were closed and his breath hardly noticeable.
Ryan stepped up next to him. “Hey, buddy. I called Teresa and told her you got hurt and to meet us at the hospital in an hour. I didn’t think she needed to come here.”
Doug opened his eyes and tried to smile. “Thanks.”
“The dog’s safe and sound and upstairs with Amy, so stop worrying about it.”
Doug closed his eyes again.
Ryan walked over to where the doctor, a nurse, and two paramedics were discussing what to do. I sat on a park bench about ten feet away and leaned back. Now was not the time for me to require anyone’s attention. I would stay close, so they wouldn’t worry, and stay still so I didn’t hurt so bad.
Someone sat beside me. It was Amy. “How are you?”
“Fine. You should be upstairs with Digger. You don’t need to tear your stitches.”
“I’m good. Digger’s asleep on the middle of my bed. He ate and settled right in. I don’t think he realizes I’m not there. Thanks for finding him. He’s been my best friend for almost twelve years. He knows all of my darkest secrets and loves me anyway.”
“Sometimes I think I need a dog. I’m fond of mini dachshunds. Maybe when all this is over.” But I knew it was unlikely.
“Listen, when Davis brought the dog back, he told me what happened. Those impalers, as they’re called, are an ancient oriental weapon. Things keep pointing to our Mr. Woo-Wu. As soon as possible, we need to get on this so we can find Lizzy. I was thinking today. We stopped getting texts from her. It’s not a good sign,” she said.
I reached into my pocket and brought out a phone. “I haven’t even turned on this cell Ryan got me. Have you?”
“Yes, that’s what I was doing while I was waiting for the two of you to come back. It’s an awesome phone, compared to what I had.” Leave it to Amy to find something good in any situation
I turned on the phone. “Ryan likes the best.
We heard a scream that I’d swear they heard in Illinois. It came from Doug. They used a chainsaw to cut the impaler as close to his chest as they could. Then they leaned him forward and used a handsaw to release him from the tree. He went into cardiac arrest and, for the next twenty minutes, they tried to get him back.
Ryan paced and watched, paced and watched. We heard someone say, “We have him back. Let’s get him to the mother ship while he’s stable.”
People began to scurry around, picking up equipment, carrying Doug to the ambulance, and, within a minute, they were all gone. Ryan walked over to us.
“Shouldn’t you go with him?” I knew he wanted to.
He raised his foot and rested it on the edge of the bench. “I want to but I want you safe also. Looks like bodyguards and dog walkers are not enough.”
“Davis is here. We can go back up to the apartment, which is completely safe, and you go be with Doug,” I suggested, trying to sound reassuring.
“What about your arm?” he asked.
I turned to look at the huge wrapping on the upper part of my arm. “It isn’t bleeding and I swear I won’t move it. We can go have it cleaned out once we know your friend is okay.”
“He is my friend, you know? He works for me, but we go back a long way. I was best man at his wedding,” Ryan said, mostly to himself.
“I didn’t realize he was married.” Of course, I had never asked.
“Yes, his wife is Teresa. I called her. She’s on her way to the hospital.”
“I swear, Ryan, we’ll be fine. Take us up, you and Davis. Check things out and then go. We promise not to buzz anyone up, and they can’t get in otherwise,” Amy told him.
He was already helping me up. “If you’re sure?”
“We’re sure,” I said sincerely.
Amy nodded in agreement.
Davis and Ryan looked over the entire apartment, including the closets and under the beds. They locked the balcony doors and pulled every drape in the place. When they were satisfied we were okay and the apartment was secure, Ryan handed me my service weapon and Amy a nine millimeter he had brought up with him. “I am going to take an elevator key. Don’t go out, don’t let anyone in. I’ll be back as soon as I can. No one is outside to keep an eye on you. Fanning and Johns are on their way to the hospital. It will take me a couple of hours to find someone, since it’s the middle of the night.”
“We don’t need anyone. Go. We’re fine.”
He kissed me lightly on lips and smiled at Amy. “Okay. This time, stay put.”
“I swear,” I said.
The clock flashed two-thirty-seven.
CHAPTER 22
W hen I awoke, it was dark and still. The clock on my dresser let me know it was ten -thirty-six a.m. I had my clothes on, laying in my own bed, on top of the covers with my gun resting near my right shoulder. After a trip to the bathroom, I tiptoed toward the living room. Amy was up watching TV, but she had the sound muted.
“Practicing lip reading?” I asked.
“Oh, hi, I didn’t want to wake you. Since Ryan hasn’t come back, I took a piece of newspaper out on the balcony and let Digger do his business on it.”
“Good idea,” I said. “I need to set my phone up so I can see what is going on in the world. I didn’t realize how much I relied on it.”
Amy handed me my phone. “I already did it for you. Since I did mine first, yours was easy.
“Thanks. I don’t feel good about Ryan not coming back,” I said.
Amy shut off the TV. “Me either.”
I called. He didn’t have to tell me what happened. I could hear it in his voice. Doug died about five a.m. from loss of blood and some sort of poison that got into his body when the shaft went through his spleen and sliced the edge of his liver.
Doug’s wife Teresa was with him when he died, and so was
Ryan.
“I have four new men coming to guard you.” The grief in his voice was disheartening. “They’re going to bring you to the hospital to get that wound looked at. The doctor told me that sometimes they can’t stitch it if you wait too long. The four men are Terry Wallace, Danny Joyce, Nathan Wilcox, and Benny Boyd. They’re well trained and loyal. When they ring the bell, you’ll ask them what they had for breakfast. If they don’t each give you the proper answers, don’t let them in. Do you need to write them down?” He obviously wasn’t taking any chances.
“No, well, maybe. Amy, hand me that pen. Okay, I’m ready.”
“Terry will say an omelet; Danny, avocado; Nathan, a ham sandwich; and Benny a bagel. Got it?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered.
Before I could say anything else, he said, “Okay, I have to go. I’ll check in when I can.”
I felt like crying. “Ryan, I am so sorry.”
“I know. Who would have thought?”
I could picture him shaking his head in disgust and couldn’t hold back the tears. Amy came over to the couch. Through my sobs, I told her what Ryan said. Another life lost, and it could be my fault. The thing to do was go outside, stand in the middle of the road, and let them have me. At least no other innocent person would die.
When I said as much to Amy, she said if I made a step toward the elevator, she would call Ryan. The last thing he needed was to have to worry about me when he had just lost his friend.
I unlocked the door and went out on the balcony. If they wanted to shoot me, let them. The fresh, crisp, cool air did wonders. I realized it was the first real deep breath I had taken since I got the wind knocked out of me. It felt glorious, most of my morose mood lifted. I had a renewed determination to find out who was trying to ruin our lives.
I sat on the floor with my feet out in front of me and took another cleansing breath. “Amy. Come out here.”
“Oh my, it feels good out here,” she said with a smile.
I patted the space next to me, signaling for her to sit. “Doesn’t it, though?”
“We need to get to the bottom of this--now,” she said.
I leaned back on the wall behind me. “I agree. What do you suggest?”
“I suggest we find out everything we can about Jasmine Wu and her father, Stanley Wu.”
“Are you sure he’s her father?” I asked.
Amy scooted back until she was propped up against the open door. “Yes. And something happened to make him start killing my friends and your family. I want to know what it was. Is she dead or maimed or is he just crazy? What is it?”
“Okay, let’s get a background check on both of them. We can do that without leaving here.” I intended to keep my promise to Ryan and stay in the apartment.
I could hear my cell phone ringing in the other room, but with my arm I couldn’t get up fast enough to answer it before it stopped. Ryan had left a message, wondering if his men had arrived. Strangely, they had not.
The buzzer went off, and Amy and I scrambled toward the intercom. The bodyguards had arrived. They had food, drinks, and the proper passwords, so we rang them up.
The guys were pretty much what I expected. They were well mannered, impeccably groomed, and ready to help in any way they could, starting with taking Digger outside for a walk. This time, three of them went and one stayed with us.
While he waited for his co-workers, he put the groceries on the table, checked the windows, as if he thought someone could get in, and gave me a look when he saw the balcony door open.
Calmly I walked over and closed it.
Within fifteen minutes, Digger was back, and they were gone. Bobby gave me his phone number and they assured us they would be outside if we needed them. Amy and I decided to see what kind of food they left us before we went back to work. Since I’d been five years old, my stomach had always gotten in the way of my determination. I could tell that Ryan had made the grocery list. They brought French vanilla latte for the Keurig, blueberry bagels, cream cheese, spiral cut ham, Jewish rye bread, and Oreo cookies. My heart melted a little, knowing that, with all he had to do, he was thoughtful enough to see that Amy and I had food we liked to munch on.
Thirty minutes later, with my stomach full and my determination back on track, we were finding out all sorts of things about the Wus.
Stanley Wu was second generation American. He served in Viet Nam, so he would know about impalers and other sorts of Asian weapons. His grandfather started Wu Enterprises after coming to America in 1913. His father took over in 1948, and then Stanley took the reins in the 1970s. He was sixty-six years old.
He had no criminal history. His business was number one of the top forty importers in the US and a premier importer of high priced Chinese art. He even had a Chinese government clearance to appraise Chinese artifacts.
Listed among his accomplishments was father of Jasmine Wu, US Olympic skier.
Next, we worked on getting to know Jasmine. She went to private schools in St. Louis, graduated first in her high school class, and Magna Cum Laude from Fonnebonne University with a degree in Sports Management and a minor in Art.
She qualified for the US ski team when she was fourteen and skied in her first Olympics at age seventeen. She continued to ski until her critical injury in the Jump Club fire. She lost both legs at the age of twenty-six.
Jasmine fell back on her second love, art. She attended the Kansas City Art Institute to further her craft. Jasmine Wu’s paintings had sold for as much as sixty thousand dollars although none had sold since 2011. She had lived in seclusion since that time.
“Interesting, don’t you think?” Amy loved a mystery.
“Yes, yes, I do. I think we’re on the right track.”
“I will be glad when we’re no longer penned up here so we can move on what we know,” she said.
I hated surveillance. “I’d bet my last dollar that Stanley Wu is behind all of this.”
“So would I,” Amy agreed.
The intercom sounded and Ryan’s voice squeaked on the other end. “I’m coming up, don’t shoot.”
We both grinned.
Ryan looked gorgeous and exhausted. He had on a gray cashmere jacket, tan chino pants, and a shirt that was a color I couldn’t begin to put a name to. It was somewhere between gray and tan, and yet that was impossible.
I couldn’t help myself. I walked over--me still in my fuzzy robe--and hugged him. He didn’t seem to mind how I was dressed.
“You don’t know how good it is to see you,” he said. “I came to take you to the hospital to have that arm looked at. We need to get you fixed up and find out who is behind all of this. I’m not prepared to lose anyone else, and whoever it is seems determined to do us more harm.”
“Can you give us a few minutes to get dressed? I’m sure Amy doesn’t want to stay here.”
Amy stood. “No, I want to go with you.”
“Okay, ladies, get ready. Is there any more of that latte around here?”
“On the counter,” Amy answered.
She went her way and I went mine. There was no way I could shower with my arm. I washed up the best I could and put on some loose comfortable slacks and a matching sweater. I dressed it up with earrings and a scarf. I stood back and surveyed myself in the mirror. I would pass. My hair was a mass of curls that I could control with product but today they would have to stay an unruly mess. I grabbed a scrunchy so I could have Amy put it up off my neck for me. There was no way my arm was going up so I could do it.
When I got back to the front room, Ryan lay relaxing on the couch with his sweet coffee, reading the reports we’d generated on the Wus. “Wow, you gals have been busy. This is very helpful.” He handed back the papers. “After I go to the funeral home with Teresa tomorrow, I think we should go pay this man a visit.”
“We agree,” Amy said.
“Okay then, let’s get this over with.” I held up the ponytail holder. Amy knew what I wanted and took care of my hair.
&nb
sp; We were at the hospital for about two hours. Ryan’s men were everywhere. They paced, guarded, and scrutinized everything and everybody. I found it unnerving. I knew it was necessary, but we sure were conspicuous.
Due to the miracles of modern medicine, I didn’t need stitches.. Because of the poison they found in Doug, I had several blood tests. They found nothing but cleaned the wound with some new kind of antiseptic anyway. The doctor put something he called second skin on my arm. First, they took what looked like super glue and put it on both open edges of the wound like you would to pieces of broken glass and held it together a little at a time until it was closed tightly. After about fifteen minutes, he took a can of something and sprayed it over the glued area, waited another five minutes. He repeated this three times and said. “You don’t have to give this arm any special treatment. You can shower, swim, or do anything you want. In about two weeks, this outer bandage will begin to disintegrate. About a week after that, it should be as good as new. You have a lot of soft tissue damage so move your arm as much as possible. The nurse will be in with some papers for you to sign and then you’re free to go.”
“Thanks, Doctor,” we all said at once.
The day faded away while we were in the emergency room. We didn’t finish until after four. Ryan needed to go to Doug’s house and pick up Teresa. Her mom and dad were coming in from Denver and, after that, he felt he should take a backseat in the preparations. Of course, he assured her that she would be taken care of and so would their two children, Doug Jr., age fifteen, and Ella, age eleven.
I felt even more horrible than before. Was this all my fault? I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was.
Ryan wanted to feed us. We were not as much hungry, as we were frustrated by being locked up and worried. There hadn’t been any word from Lizzy in three days.
Nothing could be done until morning. We went through Steak ’n Shake and loaded up on food to take back to our jail at my apartment. Ryan gave us a list of things to do, which included making an appointment with Stanley Wu and continuing our research on him and Jasmine.