“Tate, Kenny, I need you to take a statement from Mr. Greyson. Go over to the waiting room. It should be pretty quiet in there. This floor seems pretty abandoned right now. If it’s occupied, just find a secluded space where you can get the facts, okay? Mr. Greyson? With your permission, Kellan and I are going to go in and talk to your wife. I promise, we will do our best not to upset her. We’ll talk to you before we leave, okay?”
He nodded.
Guiding him by the arm, Tate led Mr. Greyson toward the waiting room.
Turning toward Jennifer Greyson’s room, Kellan stopped Alex.
“Any idea what you’re going to ask yet?”
“Not a clue, Kellan. I’ll start with ‘How are you?’ and go from there.”
“What if she doesn’t want to talk? What if she freaks out?”
“She won’t.”
“How do you know?” Kellan asked.
“Karma.”
Raising an eyebrow, Kellan said nothing.
“She lied on TV, Kel. She knows it, you know it. I know it and hundreds of others know it. Then this happened. I didn’t wish it on her. In fact, I hate that it happened. But ten to one she’ll see it as Karma paying her a visit. She’ll talk. She’ll need to.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“Hope her right cross is softer than her husband’s.”
Chapter 25
Friday, October 14
11:35 p.m.
Entering the cold, sterile room where Jennifer Greyson lay, an overwhelming sense of déjà vu overtook Alex. Too, he thought about how many times he’d been in one hospital or another in the past few years. He knew it was a part of the job, but he couldn’t help but wonder when he would be afforded the luxury of never having to be in a hospital again.
Death, he said to himself, was the only thing capable of that. But, for now at least, it wasn’t his life on the line.
As he passed the restroom area, Jennifer Greyson came into view. Her eyes closed, chest rising and falling, she gave the appearance of being asleep.
The buzzing and beeping intrigued Alex. Kellan appeared almost bored, impatient.
Clearing his throat, Kellan moved toward the foot of Jennifer’s bed. When she twitched, Alex surmised she was faking sleep.
“Mrs. Greyson?” Alex whispered. Again, she twitched. Batted her eyelashes and rubbed her eyes.
Batting her eyes closed repeatedly, she searched the room, finally finding Alex. Passing a cool stare, she licked her lips, seemed to be trying to summon moisture into a dry mouth. Reaching for a cup of what turned out to be ice, Alex offered it to her.
Glaring, she shook her head.
“What do you want?” she whispered. Her voice was raspy. Alex could see bruising on her neck and face. Swallowing what might have felt like anything from a wad of cotton to a mouth full of chewed brick, she cleared her throat.
“I, well, we just need to ask you some questions.” Alex said.
“You came to gloat? Want to know who to thank? You have your revenge, Captain Mendez. God took my baby away. And I don’t have anything to say to you. That’s enough.”
“Mrs. Greyson,” Kellan interrupted. “I’m Lt. Kellan Arthur. We just want to help you. We want to catch the guy that did this to you. And, I’m promising you we will make him pay, one way or the other.”
Looking toward the window, her face tilted away from Kellan and Alex, Jennifer sighed. Weak, shaky, she reached a hand to her face, probably wiping away a tear.
“Take your time,” Kellan said, his tone softening, almost as if he were speaking to his own wife. Not wanting to jinx things, Alex remained silent. Watched. Waited.
As her chest spasmed, Jennifer Greyson opened her mouth to speak.
“He came out of nowhere,” she said. “I guess. I wasn’t really paying attention. I should have been paying attention.” Guilt-ridden, she slammed a fist into the bed, pursed her lips and fought a flood of tears. “I should have been paying attention.”
“Where did he come from? Start at the beginning. Did you notice anything? Anything unusual? Anything different from other nights?”
Looking into the far corner of the room, Jennifer Greyson’s expression changed. Confusion. Fear, perhaps. Reaching toward her waist, she passed a hand toward her knee. The blankets shifted as she wrestled beneath them.
Swallowing, trying to find her voice, Jennifer looked feverishly to the left and right, patting the bed as she scanned the room.
“Mrs., Greyson, can I get you something? Would you like some ice chips? Water maybe?”
Shaking her head, Alex noticed she had begun to tremble.
“What is it, Mrs. Greyson?” Alex said, finally breaking his silence. “Did you remember something?”
A look of concern on her face, she seemed to be looking for the button to call the nurse.
“What is it, Mrs. Greyson? What can we do for you? Would you like for us to come back later?”
A fierce rejection of Kellan’s suggestion sent Alex into search mode. Walking around the bed, he looked for anything she might have dropped, not knowing what it could be he was looking for.
“Mrs. Greyson?” Kellan pressed.
“My leg!” she shouted, so suddenly, the Alex envisioned phantom surgeons severing the appendage in Jennifer Greyson’s hallucination.
“Your legs are fine, Mrs. Greyson,” Alex said, reaching for the blanket. Shocked to find bed where her lower leg should have been.
“Uh, Kellan?” Alex said, removing his hand from the bed, “We have a slight problem here.”
Chapter 26
Friday, October 14
11:39 p.m.
In all Alex’s years on the force, he’d never had a case like this in his life. He’d had many cases with dead bodies. He’d dealt with blind people, disabled people, even a deaf person once. He’d taken in soiled newspapers, bodily fluids, glasses, wrenches, baseball bats, eyewear, belts, doorknobs, bed sheets and every manner of clothing into evidence. He’d even taken a washer and dryer once. Not to mention a football helmet and a dog dish. Once, he’d even been forced to take a canine corpse into custody. But never, in all his years of service, had he ever had a case where a prosthetic leg had been taken into evidence.
“The leg likely saved her life,” Tate told Alex. “I wasn’t going to take it into evidence, but Detective Busby showed up on scene just as the ambulance was about to take her away. I told her about the broken syringe sticking out of it and she took the leg off of Mrs. Greyson. Between you and me, Captain, she did it with as much professionalism as you can muster in a moment like that. The EMT’s argued with her when she had to move the body, but she insisted. She’d lost a lot of blood. The baby’s death is not Detective Busby’s fault.”
“No one has even suggested that, Tate.”
“I know,” he whispered, “but if they do, you have my statement. And I’ll testify in court. With all the blood, she likely lost the baby before any of us ever got there. It’s a wonder she lived through it.”
“Busby worked the scene? Who was backup?”
“I guess, technically, that’d be me, Sir. She did most of it. I had Kenny and a couple other guys keeping folks back and interviewing the kids that found her.”
“Kids?”
“Yeah. Some teenagers that were hanging out in the area. Said they heard her scream but, by the time they got there, the guy was running off.”
“And you believed them?”
“We had no reason not to, Sir. They all gave the same basic description. A few discrepancies, but nothing significant. Some said he was 5’9 or 5’10. Another said he was more like 5’6 to 5’7. Running away, he was probably crouching. That could have skewed anyone’s description, especially at night. They all agree he was thin and didn’t look very powerful.”
“He was powerful enough to overwhelm a reasonably healthy, albeit pregnant, woman. Any of them give chase?”
“They said no. We’ve already found their footprints at the scene and there is
a set of footprints we can’t identify. A singular bloody footprint and a partial smear, which suggests a quick fleeing of the scene. There is a partial fingerprint on her bumper. It was bloody. We found a partial on the leg itself. You can thank Officer Busby for that one as well. We can’t assume it was the attacker, but we took prints from the kids and are going to run it against them while running against our criminal database. If this sucker’s been incarcerated anywhere in the United States, well know it. Between you and me, I’ve never dusted a fake leg for prints. I always heard stories of weird cases, but I think this one will take the cake for a while.”
“Good work, Tate.” Alex said. “So, thin and wiry. I don’t suppose you took Mr. Greyson’s prints.”
A look of both shock and revelation leapt across Tate’s face. Clearly, he was mentally giving himself a kick in the pants.
“I didn’t think about it, sir. No. We could have gone to the nurse’s station and got an ink pad. I was focused on asking him questions. I—Sir, I’m sorry.”
Patting Tate on the back, Alex’ said, “Son, don’t worry about it. You just go get those prints. I seriously doubt Mr. Greyson has gone home with his wife hospitalized. Find him, print him and get them to the station. Then you and Kenny get outta here.”
“Sir, shouldn’t we be guarding Mrs. Greyson in case someone comes back? I mean, once word gets out that she survived, he’ll think she saw something, won’t he? And maybe come try to silence her?”
Shaking his head, Alex said, “You’ve been watching too many police dramas, Tate. There’s ample security for this guy. Whoever he is. You’ve done your heroic duty, kid. Get this task done and get the reports done. Look on the bright side. You and Kenny have just earned a temporary transfer to homicide.”
As Tate walked away, Alex turned toward Kellan. A mixture of tired confusion seemed to be distracting his train of thought.
“You with me?” Alex asked.
“Yeah, just…”
“Just what?”
Did you know she had a fake leg?”
Alex shook his head.
“Seen some weird stuff in my years, but honestly, I didn’t know how to handle that. I’m still not sure I reacted tactfully.”
“You did fine, Kel. No worries. It was an awkward situation and I think we both did the best under uncertain circumstances.”
“What’s the motivation, Alex?” Kellan asked, slipping into investigator mode.
“That’s what we’re gonna find out, Kel.”
“You might want to be careful.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, she ticked somebody off. For all we know, Captain Mendez has an obsessed fan out there.”
Not amused, Alex nodded.
“Don’t think I haven’t considered that. Before I left the house, I had to calm Lisa something fierce.”
“You don’t think…”
“No!” Alex said, “I don’t think. I did consider it, yes. That’s the cop in me. But husband Alex knows Lisa would never do anything like that.”
“So…?”
“So, we explore all angles. This could have been a completely random attack. It could have been the husband for all we know. Right now, there are too many options and not a lot of evidence. We work this case, same as we work the others.”
“Alex, how are you?”
Pastor Highland’s voice, perhaps the quietness thereof, startled him.
Turning around, he met the pastor’s eyes. His hair was disheveled. Understandable for this late hour.
“How are you, Pastor? I swear, we’ve got to stop meeting under these circumstances.”
“I agree,” the pastor gave a tepid smile. “For now, if you could tell me where is this young lady who was attacked?”
“Certainly, sir,” Alex said, “Room 2214, right over there. If you don’t mind me asking, sir, what happened to your head?”
A shocked look flashed on his face, disappearing as he reached a hand toward his balding scalp.
“Oh, that,” he said, his hand reaching a collection of scratches that appeared quite fresh. “I’m afraid I was in my garden a bit long today. Got tired, so when I tried to stand, I stumbled and smacked my head on the rose bushes. I suppose I’m getting old.”
“Must have hit a rock on the way down,” Alex said, noting the shiner under the pastor’s left eye.
Looking embarrassed, the pastor dropped his face, shuffled his feet.
“Well, this is embarrassing,” Highland noted.
Chuckling to himself, Alex patted Pastor Highland’s shoulder. Not wishing to prolong his obvious discomfort, Alex leaned in and whispered, “Not at all sir. Those rose bushes can be deadly. You be careful.”
Smiling, Pastor Highland winked. “Will do,”
As he turned to walk away, Alex looked at Kellan.
“I like him.”
“Me too,” Kellan agreed. “It’s weird to have a chaplain on the force, but I like him. I think he’s a good man. His wife is nice too.”
“Yes she is,” Alex agreed. “The LPD is lucky to have those two. Okay, shall we?” Alex motioned toward the elevators.
“After you.”
“First things first. Let’s make sure Tate got those prints.”
Chapter 27
Saturday, October 15
1:21 a.m.
Leaving the hospital was a different experience than arriving there had been. The thrush of media had been met by an angry mob – some bearing signs calling for Alex to resign, many shouting the same hateful, even racist mantra. Hospital Security guards stood by, watching. Either not interested in getting involved, perhaps a little frightened of the prospect or maybe secretly hoping Alex would get hurt.
Standing in the lobby, Alex silently considered his options. Ever the reactant, Kellan was less tepid in his thoughts.
“Well, we don’t have enough bullets to take ‘em all out, Boss, but I bet we can get enough to scare the rest into making a path.”
“We’re cops, Kel.” Alex admonished. “We’re not the bad guys here, no matter what the citizens believe. Boy, that Greyson! She has made it real hard for me to do my job, hasn’t she?”
“Yeah, and she paid for it with her own blood.”
“Guilt taken,” Alex whispered, turning his back on the crowd that awaited him outside the safety of the lobby doors.
“I wasn’t trying to make you feel guilty, Alex. I’m sorry. I—“
“Captain Mendez?” Deputy Wayne Anderson interrupted. “If need be, we can get you fellas out through the basement.”
“Thanks, Wayne, but I don’t think that’ll be necessary. But if you and your boys could lend yourself to crowd control, we’d appreciate it. They’re angry, but I don’t think they’re stupid.”
“You willing to bet on that, Alex?” Kellan asked. “This is Texas, Cap. Babies are born with a silver bullet in their mouth.”
“That would explain the absence of werewolves in these parts.”
A strange look from Kellan.
“Bad joke,” Alex said. “Forget it. Look, they are angry because Jennifer Greyson gave a false report. Now she’s been attacked. People trust the media. Period. That’s how places like North Korea and Iran are able to control the population. State run media tells the folks whatever it takes to keep idol worship at an all-time high. I still say they’re not stupid. But they are naïve. We need to show them we can be trusted. End of story. And then we count on Jennifer Greyson to have one heck of an attack of conscience. Our people aren’t looking for a god to worship or a king to venerate. They’re seeking truth, even if some of them are seeking their version of the truth.”
“You’re hanging your life on that? On Greyson having an attack of conscience?” Kellan laughed. “Alex, you’re braver than I thought. Braver or dumber.”
“Tomayto. Tomahto, Kel.” Alex said. “Wayne, you boys ready?”
Alex jumped when the automatic doors released. Turning back, he caught sight of Janet Busby’s sullen face. She was fo
llowed by 4 men Alex had never seen before.”
“Hey, Janet. I thought I left you in charge at the station. Who are these guys? Where’s Cade?”
“Alex, these men are Texas Rangers.” Turning to Wayne, handing home a stapled pack of papers, she said, “We have orders.”
Skimming the document, Wayne’s face grew pale.
“What’s going on, Janet?”
“Captain Mendez.” One of the Texas Rangers interrupted, grabbing his shoulder. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to take you into custody.”
“On what grounds?!” Kellan shouted, far too loud.
“We have reason to believe—” he said, before Janet raised a hand, silencing him.
“Alex, they think you had something to do with the attack on Jennifer Greyson.”
“What?!” Alex shouted. “No! You can’t be serious! This is stupid! Go ask her! Where’s Tate!? He’ll tell you I didn’t— Call my wife! Janet, call Lisa! She’ll tell you I was with her!”
Spinning Alex around, Wayne placed handcuffs on him.
“Wayne! What are you doing?” Kellan shouted, grabbing him.
Shucking free of Kellan’s grip, Wayne’s face dropped. “My job,” he whispered, all color draining from his face. “I’m sorry, Alex.”
“Don’t worry about it, Wayne. I was at home. With Lisa. And then I went to the store. Wait! That’s it! Wayne! Check my pocket! There’s a receipt for the drinks I put in the fridge!”
Searching his pocket, Wayne found a white slip of paper. Unfolding it, Wayne’s face seemed to return to normal somewhat.
Handing it to Janet, a slight grin grabbed his face. “Time stamped.”
“Wayne, remove the cuffs.”
Reaching for the keys, Wayne said, “With your permission, Alex, I may have a way to get you past that mob out there.”
Smiling, Alex winked. “No offense, Wayne, but the last thing I need is for these media folks to get any more ideas that I’m guilty.”
Removing the cuffs, Wayne sighed, relieved.
“Okay,” Kellan said, “Let’s go. We’ve got work to do.”
Connection Terminated Page 13