Treachery Rising (MidKnight Blue Book 4)

by Sherryl Hancock

  “Mr. Debenshire.”

  Rick turned. “Yes,” he said, almost afraid to hear what the older man would say. The doctor’s expression was grave, and Rick could almost hear him saying, “We did everything we can, I’m sorry.” What Duhane did say wasn’t much more promising.

  “Your wife is still alive, Mr. Debenshire, but I have to tell you that she is in a very grave condition, and it is quite possible that she won’t make it through the night. I suggest that you notify any relatives that she may have, just in case.”

  Rick stared at the man, not sure what he was supposed to say. He felt like someone had just jabbed him in the stomach with a very large bat. Rick found it necessary to sit down, because suddenly the room seemed to be growing darker. Angela moved to him.

  “Rick?” she asked worriedly. She hadn’t heard what the doctor had said, but Rick’s reaction had made her fear the worst. She looked up at the doctor. “She’s not—” she began to say, but the doctor shook his head.

  “No, Ms…”

  “Theland—please call me Angela.”

  “Angela, she is in a very critical condition, and I’m afraid her chances aren’t very good. I was telling her husband that he should notify any relatives she may have.” The doctor realized Rick was probably too devastated to do anything, but he hoped Angela might just help out. Dr. Duhane didn’t want this young woman dying without her family around her. He told them he would personally go and check on her status, then walked away.

  “Rick,” Angela said softly, “is there anyone I should call?”

  Rick was just staring into space. His eyes had gone dead; his mind was spinning from what the doctor had told him. Midnight couldn’t die. She was his life, his love, everything he had. And if she did die, his last words to her had been harsh, angry words. Rick felt the irony weigh heavily on him. The only woman he had ever truly loved, and she could die not knowing that he still loved her.

  “Rick!” Angela said, trying to snap him out of his reverie. “Tell me who to call.”

  Rick looked at her for a long moment, wondering how she was going to explain who she was, but he figured she could handle that part. “Call FORS,” he said, his voice hoarse and broken. “Talk to, um, Spider… and I guess her parents, Jack and Carrie Chevalier, they should be listed. Oh my God.” Realizing that he was giving a list of people to be notified that Midnight was dying, he couldn’t continue. Angela assumed she should contact Rick’s family as well, and she wondered if she should try to contact Joe Sinclair. After all, he was Midnight’s partner; even if he and Rick were at odds, it would be a moot point if Midnight died.

  “Okay,” Angela said, talking to him as if to a young child, “now I’m going to take Mikeyla out of here—she shouldn’t see her mother in this condition—and…” But she trailed off as she started to talk about what she would do if Midnight died; no point in making it harder on Rick than it had to be. “I’ll make the necessary calls, and then I’ll be back. Will you be okay?” she asked, knowing that the question was ridiculous.

  Rick just looked at her blankly. Angela was almost sure he was going into shock. She made a point of telling the nurse what she thought on the way out. The nurse, already feeling extremely sorry for the man, said she’d keep an eye on him.

  Mikeyla asked Angela questions on the way home.

  “Is my mommy okay?”

  “Yes, dear, the doctors are taking good care of her.”

  “Like Mommy took care of me when I was sick?”

  “Yes, just like that.”

  “Good,” Mikeyla said, seeming satisfied that her mother was being well cared for.

  Angela looked at the beautiful little girl she’d grown very fond of in only a matter of days. It almost broke her heart to know that in a few hours her mother might be gone forever. Angela made an extreme effort to hide her tears, not wanting to upset the child any further. When she got home, Angela asked where her daughter was.

  “In the dining room, ma’am. Is everything all right?” he asked, concerned about Rick and Mrs. Theland. He liked working for Angela; she was very kind, and never treated him like a servant, unlike her husband and daughter. Rick Debenshire had been very nice as well, although he knew that Rick was going through a rough time right now. Butlers heard a lot more than most people realized.

  “No, Fitz, everything’s not,” Angela replied, her eyes showing her sadness. She knelt down next to Mikeyla. “Mikeyla, why don’t you go with Fitz to the kitchen, and he’ll get you some dinner and some ice cream too.” She looked up at the butler, who was nodding and smiling.

  “Okay,” Mikeyla said, unaware that she was being bribed.

  Angela walked into the dining room. Sheila and David were at the dining room table, eating dinner. They both looked up.

  “Where have you been, dear?” David said, his accent very polished. “I’ve been worried.”

  Angela looked from him to Sheila and then back at him. “Rick’s wife is in the hospital,” she said, noting the quick flicker of joy on Sheila’s face and feeling disgusted by her daughter’s lack of compassion. She pinned the young woman with a look. “She may die, and while I’m sure that might make you happy, Sheila, just remember that that will leave that poor child without a mother. A job to which you are not suited.”

  “Really?” David said, looking a little contrite himself.

  “Yes.” Angela looked back at her daughter, who seemed sufficiently cowed now. “I need Rick’s phone book—I need to get ahold of some people for him.”

  “Do you want me to—” Sheila started, but her mother cut her off with a look.

  “And how will that go, Sheila?” Angela pretended to hold a phone, and then, in a higher-pitched voice, she mimicked Sheila’s accent. “Oh hi, I’m Rick’s girlfriend. His wife is dying.” She paused. “I don’t think so. Just get me the book, dear.”

  Sheila got up and left the room.

  “You shouldn’t do that to her,” David said when she had gone.

  “Do what?” Angela wasn’t even close to being in the mood to argue with him over spoiled little Sheila’s hurt feelings. “Teach her that having an affair with a married man isn’t the best way to go, and that more than just the absentee wife gets hurt in the process? Is that what I shouldn’t do, David?” Her voice was sharp, and her husband was taken aback. Angela had always been frank with him, but her sudden loyalty to Rick’s wife was surprising.

  “Why are you crusading for Rick’s wife all of a sudden? It seems to me that she’s quite capable of doing fine on her own—she’s already bagged Joe Sinclair, from what I understand.”

  Angela wanted to hit him. She looked her husband square in the eye. “You are a heartless and abhorrent old man, do you know that?” That shocked him into silence, and Angela walked out of the dining room. She met Sheila coming down the stairs with Rick’s small phone book in her hand. She gave it to her mother, avoiding her eyes. Good! Angela thought. Maybe she’s actually learning.

  Angela continued up the stairs and into her dressing room. Sitting down on the settee, she picked up the phone on the side table.

  Her first call was to Midnight’s parents. Carrie Chevalier answered. “Hello?”

  “Mrs. Chevalier?”

  “Yes, this is she,” Carrie said, not recognizing the voice on the other end of the line.

  “My name is Angela. I’m a friend of Rick’s.”

  “Rick Debenshire?”

  “Yes, Midnight’s husband,” Angela supplied, wondering what was wrong with the woman.

  “Yes, I know.” Carrie sounded offended.

  “He asked me to contact you.” Angela paused, unsure of the right words to say in a situation like this. She tried to think how she’d want to be told if her daughter was lying in a hospital bed, probably dying. She was at a loss. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Chevalier, but your daughter has had an accident.” She expected to hear a gasp, a cry, something along those lines—she heard nothing.

  Carrie Chevalier waited. She’d received
phone calls like this before, some nurse wanting to notify her that her daughter had been shot, or stabbed or something. Midnight was always getting hurt, and she always came through just fine.

  “Mrs. Chevalier?” Angela said, wondering what was happening on the other end of the line.

  “Yes,” Carrie answered impatiently. “Go on. She’s been in an accident, and what—she’ll be out in a day or two. Did she get into another fight with some gang member, or did she drive that damn Corvette of hers into something this time?” Carrie’s voice was strident; she didn’t like to be reminded that she knew little or nothing about her daughter’s life or what she did with it. She remembered Rick, of course. He had been so kind, bringing their little granddaughter over to see them.

  “No,” Angela said, thinking that Carrie Chevalier was a heartless woman. “I don’t think you understand. Your daughter may be dying, Mrs. Chevalier.”

  Carrie was quiet for a moment, trying to decide whether she should take this call seriously or not. Finally, she decided that she had better. “Where is she?”

  “She’s at Mission Hospital. You should get there right away.”

  “I will, thank you.” Carrie hung up.

  The next phone call was to FORS. Angela wondered if anyone would be there that late, and she was surprised when a young man answered. “Yeah?”

  “Hello,” Angela said. “I need to speak with Spider?” The name sounded strange coming from her mouth.

  “You got him.” Spider wondered who this woman was and why she was calling so late.

  “Spider,” Angela said, aware that she needed to get this over with. “My name’s Angela. I’m a friend of Rick’s—he asked me to contact you.”

  “Okay,” Spider said when she didn’t continue.

  “I’m sorry,” Angela said, once again not sure how to put it, “but Rick’s wife is in the hospital.”

  “What!” Spider shot out of his chair. “What happened, how is she, is she okay?” His words tumbled out on top of themselves.

  “I’m afraid not,” Angela said. “The doctors don’t think her chances are very good. I’m very sorry.”

  Spider was silent as he stood alone in the office that Midnight ran. He looked around, not seeing anything, the tears in his eyes blurring his vision. “Where is she?”

  “Mission Hospital. You will let the other members of your unit know, won’t you?” Angela wasn’t sure how else she’d tell them all.

  “Yeah,” Spider said absently. “Can we see her?” Angela realized how close Midnight must be with her unit. Closer than to her own mother, it would appear. Angela felt even sorrier for the young woman in the hospital, and was determined to find out more about her.

  “I’m not honestly sure,” Angela said, not wanting to give him false hopes, but not willing to dash them either.

  “Thanks.” Spider sounded every bit a young gentleman. Angela had no idea she was talking to the ex-leader of a fierce Laotian gang.

  She called the Debenshires next. Rick’s mother answered the phone, sounding tired. Angela realized it was very early in England. “Anabelle?” she said, remembering the warm woman she had known so many years ago.

  “Yes?” Anabelle said. She wasn’t fully awake and didn’t recognize the voice.

  “It’s Angela Theland. I’m sorry to wake you, but Rick asked me to call you,”

  “What’s wrong?” Anabelle asked, suddenly very awake.

  “It’s Midnight—she’s had an accident. She’s in the hospital.”

  “Oh my lord.”

  Angela could hear Anabelle cover the receiver with her hand and say, “Robert, wake up, something’s happened.” Then, into the phone again, “I’m sorry, Angela. Is she going to be okay?”

  “I’m afraid the doctors don’t think so.”

  Anabelle gasped. “Oh my lord,” she repeated. Angela could almost see her crossing herself. “Well, how’s Richard—was he in the accident? You said he asked you to call—is he okay?” Anabelle sounded so concerned, and Angela was relieved to at least be able to tell her that Rick was just fine.

  “It’s his heart I’m worried about,” she said. “He’s not taking it well at all, and poor little Mikeyla, she found her mother.”

  “Found her? Where?”

  “Well…” Angela hesitated, not sure how much to say since she really didn’t know what had happened or how much the Debenshires knew about Rick’s infidelity. “Rick had dropped her off, and she called him minutes later on his cell phone, telling him that Midnight wouldn’t wake up. I’m not sure what happened, Anabelle, but it looks very bad. I’m sorry to have to call you with such awful news.”

  “Well, thank you for taking the time, Angela.” They hung up a few minutes later.

  ****

  Anabelle turned to her husband, who was fully awake now. “That was Angela Theland,” she said. “Wasn’t it Sheila Theland that Deborah said Rick was staying out all hours of the night with?”

  “Yes, dear, I believe it was,” Robert said, his brows furrowing. “What’s happened?”

  “Midnight’s been in an accident,” Anabelle said gravely. “Angela said the doctors don’t hold out much hope of her making it.”

  “Really?” Robert’s voice belied his disbelief. He couldn’t picture the vibrant, beautiful woman his only son had married dying.

  “Robert, we have to go to him. Angela said Rick is devastated.”

  “Yeah,” Robert said, his eyes sad. “I can imagine he is. You’re right, of course. We’ll book the first flight out this morning.”

  Anabelle spent the rest of the wee hours calling Rick’s sisters. Deborah was stunned, Allison cried a lot. Katherine was predictably unmoved, though Anabelle sensed that her oldest daughter had come to accept Midnight more over the last three and a half years. Katherine had seemed to disapprove of her brother’s dalliance with Sheila Theland, and she explained that she thought that if he had been fool enough to get married he should at least honor his vows. Anabelle wondered at the fact that Angela Theland had been the one to call.

  A few hours later, she and Robert were on a plane to California. Anabelle hoped she would arrive to good news.

  ****

  Rick sat staring off into space for a full hour after Angela left, feeling like his life was moving in slow motion. Dr. Duhane walked up to him, and Rick couldn’t even find the strength to stand and talk to the man. He was just sure this would be the moment the doctor told him Midnight was dead.

  “Mr. Debenshire,” Dr. Duhane said, kneeling down. “Your wife has had some severe trauma to her head. Do you know what could have caused that?”

  Rick looked at him for a full minute, wondering if the man thought he had done it. Finally he shook his head. “My wife and I are separated right now. I wasn’t there. She…” Rick’s eyes filled with tears at the thought that once again he hadn’t been there for her when she needed him. “My daughter found her. She was in bed, like she’d been asleep.” He shook his head, remembering the nightmare scene at the house. He knew he’d never forget the sight of Midnight lying in her own blood, her face so pale and lifeless.

  “Okay,” Dr. Duhane said, looking down at his watch. “She’s in surgery right now. We’re not sure what’s causing the bleeding—she seems to be hemorrhaging badly. We’re trying to get ahold of her doctor, to find out if there’s any help he can give us.” He looked at Rick again. “Mr. Debenshire, do you know anything? Has she had any accidents lately that may have caused some internal bleeding, maybe something she shrugged off as minor?”

  Rick was silent for a minute, his mind going to Sacramento, to Joe. Joe might know something. “She’s been out of town, but I’ll try to contact her partner up there and ask.” Rick wasn’t thinking of Joe and Midnight together; he was thinking that Joe might have the key to saving his wife’s life.

  Rick was up and out of the chair in moments. He texted Joe’s cell, putting “911” and his radio call code on the end of the message, cussing at himself because he couldn’t
do anything else. In a last-ditch effort, he called information and asked for the number of the Sacramento Police Department. Dialing moments later, Rick started to feel desperation creeping into him. He got the dispatcher and explained to her that he was attempting to get ahold of an officer who was teaching at the police academy. The dispatcher offered him Joe’s office and cell numbers.

  “I’ve got those,” Rick said, his voice taking on an edge. “Don’t you have a home number for him?”

  “Yes, sir, but I’m not authorized to release that number.”

  Rick wanted to scream at the woman that his wife was dying while she was being an impossible pain in the ass, but he knew it would get him nowhere. The dispatchers at SDPD were just as well programmed; you didn’t give out an officer’s home number, not even to someone who identified themselves as a police officer. Home numbers led too easily to home addresses, and that got police officers killed.

  “Fine,” Rick said, trying to keep his voice even. “Can you please call him and tell him that his partner is in the hospital and that I need him to call me immediately.”

  He sounded so serious that the dispatcher didn’t argue with him any further, figuring that calling the officer at his home number and giving him a message would be alright. She took down the number Joe needed to call and hung up. She called him immediately, but received an answering machine. She left the message carefully. “Sergeant Sinclair, this is Amy VanDeveer from the Sacramento Police Department. A Richard Debenshire called and left the following message with me for you. Your partner is in the hospital, and it is imperative that you contact him immediately at area code 619, 555-7211. If you have any questions regarding this message, please contact me at 916-555-5776.” She hung up, hoping Sergeant Sinclair would get the message soon.

  Joe was on the range when the dispatcher called. The academy class was conducting a night shoot. It was eight o’clock when the message was left, and the class didn’t finish up until 10:30. By the time he had packed up his stuff and driven Jessica home, it was almost midnight.