Secure Again

by R L Dunn

  Martin stood by, watching the doctors jockey for position. His own temper was simmering beneath the surface.

  "I disagree with your assessment," Dr. Lee said. "She is a neglected child with withdrawal issues."

  Joyce's voice turned cold. "Dr. Lee, examine her. This little girl needs immediate attention."

  To avoid controversy, the arrogant fellow examined Lola. "Dr. Bey, what kind of physician are you?"

  An intimidating Patrick walked in. "Dr. Joyce Bey, a pediatric trauma surgeon for the past eight years." His tone was icy as he scooped Lola up. "Hello, beautiful girl. We’re gonna make this better. Let's move to the ICU."

  Martin’s lips turned up. The position of power was tilting.

  Dr. Lee eyed him with disgust. "Who are you?"

  "Patrick Hedges. Critical Care Surgery and the man who's about to shorten your educational experience, if you don't start paying attention. Call your attending, NOW! Dr. Bey, what do you need?"

  Inside the treatment room, Patrick handed Lola back to Martin. "Who are you?" Dr. Lee's tone was much more cooperative.

  The baby struggled to breathe in front of him. He bussed her precious head. "I'm her father." Martin held Lola while Joyce started the IV. Joyce and Patrick eyed him with surprise.

  "What's going on here?" The pediatric chief, Nate Barnett, walked in. "Joycey Bey. Is that you?"

  Joyce rolled her eyes at Patrick. "Nate, please accept an air kiss; I'm occupied." Joyce gave him a flirtatious gaze. "Lola is a wee one with probable NEC. I think she's grade three. We are going to need an OR."

  "Lee, would you explain the whole story here? What did Dr. Choudhury say? Joycey, been a while. That convention in San Francisco was a lot of fun," Nate said.

  Martin chewed his lip with amusement at how the physicians appeared not to notice him nor Patrick.

  "Nate, did you meet Horizon's newest trauma surgeon, Patrick Hedges? This is Lola's dad, Martin Bailey."

  "Mr. Bailey, I'm Nate Barnett, Head of Pediatrics here. Did Dr. Bey explain what she thinks is going on with Lola?"

  "Yes, she said Lola needs some tests, but she thinks she's very sick."

  "Time to sleep, precious." Lola went limp from the medication Colleen pushed into her IV.

  Joyce inserted and secured a breathing tube. With Lola asleep, Joyce initiated treatment. The x-ray tech wheeled in the vast machine. Moments later, Joyce explained the sad news. "Martin, these marks that appear like train tracks…Lola's intestine is dying. It sometimes happens in preemies. She needs surgery. With this amount of damage visible, she won't live without the procedure. I need to warn you, even with the procedure, there are no guarantees."

  Martin's voice faltered, "Save her. Whatever it takes."

  "Joyce, the OR will be ready to go in an hour." Nate smiled.

  "I'll be back." Martin crutched to the elevator, oblivious to the pain in his bruised body. His fingers flexed and pointed as he held the handles, his heart pounding in his chest. The conversation was with himself: “Big decision. No changing your mind. Is this what I want?” He invoked his years of training. “Analyze…” He laid out all the pros and cons. With Mel Wyatt’s hospital room in sight, a wave of peace came over him. Adopting Lola felt right.

  Mel was watching TV, resting comfortably in his hospital bed with his girlfriend by his side. Martin knocked and introduced himself.

  With a deep breath, Martin explained how his heart was filling with love for Lola and his desire to help. “I know you don’t have any reason to trust me, but I can get you any information you need about me.” His gray eyes pleaded.

  Mel’s body was frail, but his mind was fine. “Young man, you’re making an impassioned plea,” he said, then asked questions about Martin’s ability to take care of a sick child.

  “I promise you, she will be loved and taken care of.” Martin was encouraged when Mel informed him the Social Services paperwork remained incomplete.

  Martin leaned against the wall outside Mel’s room after answering a bunch of questions, promising the man could stay part of Lola’s life, and allowing him to discuss things with his girlfriend. The sun dipped below the horizon when Martin left the couple with permission for the private adoption.

  On an isolated bench outside, Martin dropped his head into his hands to organize his thoughts. His life was about to change forever. When the familiar voice connected, he said, "Ian, I need some help."

  Martin returned to Elizabeth's side after Lola went to the OR. Tighe was waiting for him.

  “How is she?” He leaned over and kissed her.

  "No change, I'm sorry. Sit, I need to examine you. How's the head?" Jamie asked.

  "Clearer. Guys, I'm about to be a father." He went on to explain Lola's short life. "I promised her great-grandfather that she would be loved and taken care of. He gave me his blessing. Tech is expediting the paperwork, and by the opening of business in the morning, I will be her daddy. Now all I need is for you to wake up, Sunshine."

  Seated in the recliner while Jamie changed his calf dressing, Martin turned his focus to Tighe. “Sit-rep.”

  “Department of Children’s Services and the hospital finally let us in to see the Jane Doe. Kelly and a nurse did the forensic exam.” Tighe swallowed hard. “We got prints. There was a boot mark on her back. And the bruises…” He closed his eyes. “Here are some of the pictures.” He passed his phone to Martin. “I was wondering if I can sit with her.”

  “I’d be a hypocrite if I told you not to get too involved.” Martin’s eyes brightened.

  Chapter Twenty

  Troy Bremen forced himself to remain focused on his job. There is no discharge in war. The solitary confinement and the beating at the hands of two guards after being caught with drugs a second time confirmed the guards used prisoners to move drugs. A prisoner caught in possession protected the guards from being accused. No one would believe a prisoner twice found in possession. Their hands stayed clean. How many guards and who the supplier was remained elusive. There also was no sign of the movie productions. He was refused a request to call his attorney.

  "Hey, Fish." Troy heard the bang on his door from Corrections Sergeant Alden McAllister.

  "Yes, CO."

  Alden unlocked the cell. "Come with me."

  "Where to, CO?" He stood, heeding the order.

  "Where I tell you." He was met with a jab in his tender gut. McAllister walked him out of the cellblock to a loading dock. "Remember, cooperation will keep your family safe. Now, I need you to stack those boxes.” He led Troy toward a pallet filled with non-descript brown cartons.

  Troy followed the instructions, moving the boxes from a pallet to a set of wire racks. A Silverton police van backed into the loading bay. McAllister barked a new command, causing Troy to jump. "Here, help unload the van."

  Upon stepping into the van, leather-gloved hands yanked his arms behind his back, and a hood was dropped over his head. Troy tamped down his instinct to fight. This was his chance to find out what was going on.

  "Fish, you did good taking your punishment. Now, we will give you a real chance,” a new male voice spoke to him. He felt hands force him forward toward a bench that extended along one side of the van until he was kneeling. "Relax, Fish." His pants dropped to the floor.

  Troy braced himself as small fingers forced balloons past his sphincter. "Eight balloons. All wrapped up in your safe," a deep woman's voice standing to his side said.

  He was yanked out of the van and thrown on the loading dock. At the sound of the van pulling away, the hood was popped off. Troy's eyes readjusted to the light.

  "Pull your pants up. Finish stacking, Fish."

  Troy did everything he could to quicken his return to his cell to rid his body of the balloons. A broken balloon equaled his death. The discovery of a link in the supply chain helped shake off the revulsion caused by the invasion of his body. He needed to pass the new information he gathered and wait for someone to pick up the balloons.

  "Guys, you worked wit
h female doctors. Is there a double standard?" Martin asked.

  Eric thought for a minute. "Yes and no. Most specialties are balanced. The exception is surgery—they’re the rapid deployment forces of medicine. Elizabeth—she’s Trauma Surgery, like DEVGRU. I'm sure people thought she was a selfish bitch in training. The only way for her to succeed was to be focused on the goal and sacrifice a lot. What are you thinking?"

  "I'm building a profile of who wants to kill her. I also need to prove she didn't kill Randy Knox and Karl Whelan." Martin asked Jamie and Eric more questions. Grimacing, he tried to adjust his position.

  "Do you want something for the pain other than ibuprofen?" Eric gave him a cup with two maroon pills and a cup of water.

  Martin shook his head.

  "What are you trying to figure out?" Jamie asked.

  Martin finished sending a text. "Karl Whelan. His wife was treated in the ER, OR and the ICU. Elizabeth’s belongings—the murderer needed access to her personal space—home, office, locker, ICU and surgical floor. The intersection will show who framed her."

  Eric grunted, "Staff."

  "Makes sense. Evidence shows Randy Knox was involved in covering up prisoner abuse. He couldn't do it without help. Zach, that was fast. I just texted you."

  Zach's phone vibrated. "Um." He held his phone up to show Martin the message that had just come in. He crouched, placing a hand on each of Martin's knees. "I was on my way. Newsome called. He's trying to stop Logan from acting on the warrant. SPD and the DA's office are making a political statement. People are clamoring for an arrest."

  "What the hell? Where is she going?"

  "Like I said, politics. Also, Talbot Reed called a media event for the morning. What did you need?"

  Martin slumped in his chair. "I need you to interview Trudy Saperstein, the nurse at the prison."

  Zach frowned. "I planned on it. Your enhanced look at the phone logs hit. She called the hospital at the same time Elizabeth's secretary answered an outside call from a woman. Matty and Bruce found her dead this morning. We are waiting on COD."

  "Damn it. Elizabeth figured it out, the murders and this. Someone wants to shut her up, and if they find out Austin's remembering, he's in danger too. I want an investigation into Ralph Locke. Send word to the guys in the prison to ask around about him. Did he kill himself because he felt guilty about the little girl or Austin?"

  "Little Girl Doe is stable. Kelly got some promising film."

  "Is someone on the unit?"

  Zach nodded. "A nurse from New York, and Tighe is sitting with her too. Do you want me to put a detail on her?”

  "Full security as well. I want competent and gentle."

  Zach smiled at his boss.

  "I'm going home to take a shower and change. I want the executive staff in the hotel conference room in an hour. Ask Archie to set up a conference call for all the division heads as well. Thanks, Zach.”

  "Roger that." Zach left.

  It took an effort for Martin to stand. He placed his hand atop Elizabeth's heart. "Jamie, Eric, don't let anyone in this area other than Chase personnel, my family, Joyce, and Ruth."

  Eric blocked the door. "We didn't forget. You need to lie on the CT-scan table for ten minutes. Clear?"

  Martin obeyed, pushing the meeting back for another hour. All the health center directors had the authority to ground him. An argument would be fruitless.

  The tense group occupied the hotel conference room. "Thank you, everyone. Those words are too few for all you are doing. I have some news for all of you. Today I made a life decision: I’ve adopted the infant injured in the trailer park fire. Lola Wyatt will be Lola Bailey by morning. In advance, I thank all her new aunts and uncles for being a part of her life. Second happy news: I plan to ask Elizabeth Reed to marry me the second she wakes up."

  He grimaced as he raised his brow. "Now that my personal life is no longer gossip fodder, let's work. Silverton police are going to act on the warrant to arrest Elizabeth. We need to solve these murders." The desktop from his computer flashed on a screen lowered from the ceiling. He gave them a meticulous, detailed presentation.

  “Elizabeth sent four damning and accusatory letters to Corrections. There is no clear path where they went from arrival. I informed Brynn Hackman—we are feeding her what we want. She still thinks we’re floundering. We managed to infiltrate Spooner's and Jenner's offices. The bugs we placed remain live, but their trackers indicate someone moved them.”

  Mike took over. "Austin's memory is returning. He remembered a corrections van, and damn it, he remembers being shot by a man in black—likely a corrections officer.” He raised his hand to quell the grumbling in the room.

  "Technical analysis was able to identify four more prisoners shown in the violent pornographic films, including hospitalized prisoner, Tonette Torres.

  “One of our undercover jail guards was invited to watch baseball at Sergeant Alden McAllister’s this weekend.”

  Mike wiped his brow, his body stiffening. “After the evening meal, Troy disappeared from segregation with McAllister for two hours. The cameras in the prison are working against us, and the assignments to the SHU are given to select guards. Our people are trying to gain access to Troy. Wes thinks it makes sense that their targets are coming from there. No one will notice they’re missing.”

  “Is there anything we can do?” Bruce asked.

  “None of us want Troy in there any longer than necessary,” Martin said.

  Mike continued, "Troy's attorney was refused visitation again. In a call to his ‘mom,’ Sutton told Esther that ADA Jacob Krebs is prosecuting Troy. Our intel shows Krebs is a former fraternity boy and football player. Lots of rumors about inappropriate workplace behavior, but as far as prosecution, he's a straight hardliner. I'm worried Troy won't have a chance to ask for help.”

  Julian stood. "Our forensic unit discovered a scorch mark on the roof ledge of the building six hundred yards due west of the garage. A swab confirmed a shot was fired from there. Martin, you were the target. You now have a protection detail."

  Julian's expression challenged him to refuse. Martin nodded.

  Zach's phone buzzed. "Martin, Danny Logan failed to override the chief. They are holding off. Sharpe doesn't want to waste budget dollars on an unresponsive arrestee."

  Martin dipped his head and took a breath. “Thank you, Lord."

  Kip stood for his briefing. "We’re sure Paul Young didn’t send the honey to Elizabeth. We’re trying to track suppliers in the area. I asked tech to look at Logan's old cases going back to his days in patrol, see if we can tie any identified dead prisoners to his arrests. Young left me wondering. I asked him why someone would want to use his name? Other than the obvious, to gain Beth's trust. He said he would be dead before the case could go to trial. Tech is looking at his physicians and a select few colleagues who appreciate how ill he is."

  Tate rubbed his dry, tired eyes. "Miles Gerba called to tell us Tonette Torres is awake and stable enough to talk. I was leery of adding more bodies to the floor. Our current assignees are aware of the situation. Tighe said he'll take a go at her tonight."

  "Dufour withdrew his intent to file suit," Bruce said. "We’re looking to see if he went for a settlement, or did he withdraw the suit to simply hide the pregnancy?"

  "What about Reed?" Martin's gut twisted. “He wanted to sanitize Elizabeth's pregnancy years ago. Did he convince Dufour to do the same?”

  "His phone log is clean, but that doesn't mean anything. My bet would be on him using a burner phone. Celine Moody McAllister is tight with him, and her husband, Alden McAllister, works nights. She leaves Reed's home before Alden would be due to leave his job," Zach said.

  Ford tapped his pencil against the wood. "Boss, I was thinking, what about putting some pressure on Cecile Dufour? Maybe her hubby's predilection for their daughter is news. We aren't sure, but it does pass the smell test. Dr. Gerba said she was shocked and furious when Elizabeth told her Viola was pregnant. Hal didn't a
ppear shocked at all. Distraught, yes. Shocked, no."

  "Wait until we rule out a settlement. Then, if there aren't other flags, do it." Martin's head pounded. The ibuprofen did nothing for the ache. "Moody?" The name nagged at him.

  "Yeah, boss," Ford said.

  "Check to see if the Moodys are a long-time Silverton family. I'll ask my mom too. I remember one. Triplets—they would be in their fifties." His headache was fouling his memory. "Anything about the third substance found in Elizabeth's system?"

  "No," Mike said.

  Martin concluded the meeting and initiated a discussion with the branch division heads and their seconds-in-command. The rest of the company's business needed to continue. The readiness despite the weariness on the faces of the men remaining around the table reminded him of the heavy burden each carried.

  Wednesday, July 16th

  Martin rushed to the pediatric recovery room. "How is she?"

  Lola's tiny head was covered by a pink cap, with a blue fish sticker pasted to her forehead measuring her temperature. A tube entered one nostril to breathe for her, and one in the other nostril went into her belly. Little monitor pasties attached to her chest, and a bulky bandage covered her belly.

  "Can I touch her?"

  Joyce sat beside an isolette, bleary-eyed. "With the portholes. The surgery went as well as possible. Kat and I removed eighteen centimeters of intestine combined." At the nurse's station, she drew a sketch to describe Lola's situation. “She's not out of trouble. Can you find her history? It might give us a better idea of her future. She’s facing a lot of hurdles, and her growth is part of it."

  He addressed the question Joyce seemed to avoid. "She may die?"

  Joyce rested a gentle hand between his shoulders. "It’s a possibility."

  "Thank you, for the surgery and the honesty." Two fingers held Lola’s hand. "Daddy is here, Lola. You're going to be better soon." His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. "I'll always protect you.” He turned toward Joyce. “Is she in any pain? She's so still."