“Mom, it’s Kestrel. Hang in there and fight. You need to give it your all now. You’re strong and I know you can do this. Hell, you put up with the Dragon for all those years. This should be a walk in the park in comparison. Don’t give up, whatever you do. I love you, Mom.” And that’s all I can eke out before I crack. Falling to my knees, I rest my head on the side of her bed and cry. It’s the first time I’ve cried since I can remember. Maybe since I was locked in that fucking cage. I don’t know. All I know is I don’t want my mother to die. Not here like this. Not when she’s happy for the first time in her life. The world is falling apart around me—spinning wildly out of control and I want it to stop.
But it doesn’t. It worsens. Every machine, device, what have you, in that tiny room starts to beep, setting off an alarm of urgency throughout the ICU. Medical personnel storm the unit, shoving me out of the way. They don’t have to tell me what’s happening. I’m not stupid. I stubbornly hope as I watch them through the glass, using those paddles, seeing her body jolt as the electrical current charges through her. But the line on the monitor doesn’t waver from its steady insistence on remaining flat. They repeat the process and I see them pumping other kinds of medicine into her IV line. More juice to the paddles and she seizes then collapses back on the bed, a limp form of lifeless flesh and bones. The line refuses to budge. The team is persistent; I’ll give them that. I feel separated from my body as I watch the scene unfold. And I wonder if Mom is floating somewhere, detached from her body, seeing this as I am. It takes me a few minutes to notice that silence has enveloped the room. My hands are stretched out upon the glass window, my face pressed against it. I can see the little area of steam my breath has left behind. Two nurses are in there shutting all the equipment down and then I hear a man clearing his throat behind me.
“Mr. Hart. I’m terribly sorry. We did everything we possibly could.”
I don’t turn around. For no particular reason, I’m drawn to the process of how they treat my mother. I know it will be with respect, but I must see it for myself.
“I know. Thank you.” I remain staring inside the room.
“You can go in if you’d like.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
I’m frozen at the window, still watching. The nurses are very meticulous in everything they do, even the way they remove all the lines from my mother. It’s all so kind, as if they don’t want to put her through any more pain. As soon as they’ve taken out the tube from her throat, I go to her. Funny how peaceful the room seems now. They tell me how sorry they are and I nod. Bending over, I kiss her forehead and tell her I love her. Then I turn away. I need to get Kolson. They say Gabby is down the hall, so I go to find him.
When I do, he’s sleeping with his head on her bed. I hate to wake him, but I know he’ll want to see Mom.
“Kolson?”
He lifts his head, confused. Then it sinks in and he focuses.
“Hey. Carter okay?”
“Yeah. Well, she’s in surgery now to remove her bullet. Kol, it’s Mom. She didn’t make it.”
A myriad of emotions pass over his features. Then his eyes fill with tears. I’ve never seen Kolson cry, but I do today.
“Do you want to see her? She’s right down the hall.”
He nods, but doesn’t speak. When we get to her room, he becomes the stoic Kolson I know so well. He touches her hair and cheek and then holds her hand. Turning to me, he says, “This has now become a murder, you know? And I’m going to figure out who did this to us.” Then he walks away.
I haven’t had much time to think of anything other than life and death … here. But Kol is right. This is a murder. My mother was murdered today. Christmas Day. I go back to Gabby’s room and tell Kolson if he needs me, I’ll be in the surgery waiting room. Once there, I call Kade to let him know about Mom and that there’s no point in coming here. I tell him I’ll call when we have funeral arrangements established.
What was supposed to be a cut and dry case for Carter isn’t. Three hours later the surgeon shows up. The look on his face scares the hell out of me.
“She’s going to be okay. I had to chase the bullet. When I got in there, it got loose and ended up traveling a bit. She had a little bit of lung damage, but she’s fine. I called in here, but no one answered,” he says.
“Yeah, I was with my mom. She didn’t make it.”
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry.”
“Can I see Carter?”
“Yes, as soon as she’s out of recovery. She’ll remain in ICU tonight. Why don’t you go and wait with your brother? I’ll let them know where to find you.”
“Thanks.”
It’s sunrise when I get to see Carter. But she’s okay. She’s babbling but has a chest tube, which looks downright disgusting, and then other tubes, but I don’t care as long as she’s okay.
The police keep wanting to ask questions, so I finally give in. I’m going to have to do so eventually, so I might as well start now.
And it goes something like this:
No, I don’t know who might have done this. No, we were eating Christmas dinner. No, we haven’t gotten any threats. No, we haven’t had any break-ins. No, no one has been harassing us.
And then they start again. After an hour, I look at the detective and say, “Detective, my mother is dead. Do you even care about that? I don’t know who did this awful thing to us. My sister-in-law almost died and so did my girlfriend and you’re acting like we’re a part of this!” By the time I finish, I’m shouting.
“Mr. Hart. You don’t have any security cameras on your house. Why is that?”
“Because I just moved in, for Christ’s sake. I haven’t had time. I’ve been busy working my ass off. Is it a crime not to have security cameras? Do I need a lawyer now because someone shot up my home?”
And then it hits me. I need to call Foster Haynesworth. He’ll know what to do. I pull out my phone and I make the call.
“Foster?”
“Yes.”
“Kestrel Hart here.”
“Why Kestrel, how are you?”
“Not as well as I’d like. There’s been a shooting at the house.” I explain what’s happened and he says he’s on his way.
I look at the detective and say, “I’m not saying another word until my attorney arrives.”
Detective Brunson is pissed. I don’t give a rat’s ass. He was treating me like I was the criminal. I thrum my fingers on the arm of the chair.
“You really didn’t have to do that.”
I shoot him a look of incredulity. “You’re joking, right? You ask me why I haven’t put up security cameras yet. Of course I had to do that. My mother was murdered, goddammit, and you’re making me out to be the one at fault. Because I didn’t put fucking cameras up. That’s bullshit and you know it. Now I don’t want to make enemies here, but seems to me, you’ve already crossed that line.”
The eyes tell it all. They always do. I would see it in Langston’s right before he would strike. I see it in my business opponents, before they think they have scored the deal. And now, Mr. Detective is revealing to me that he knows I have him. He fucked up. He backed me against a wall and didn’t think I had the balls to fight back. Well, he was wrong. But something here doesn’t ring right. Why would he do that? There’s something else going on and I aim to find out. I stand and he asks, “Where are you going?”
“That is none of your business, detective.” And I leave him alone, watching me.
When I get to Gabby’s room, she’s awake. I don’t want to discuss this in front of her, so I wait and then pull Kolson out of the room. I convey what transpired and he only says, “I’ll call Drexel Wolfe. He’ll handle everything.”
“I’m going to Carter’s room. Oh, and Kol, we need to make arrangements for Mom.”
He shakes his head. “I know. Can we do this in a few hours? My head is swimming.”
“Mine too.”
I’m drained. And I feel like a rubber ball that has bounced back a
nd forth around this hospital all night long. I’m ready for the highs and lows my emotions have been on to end. Only sheer adrenaline has kept me going but it’s running out, and I weave as I go back to Carter’s room. When I get there, she’s asleep. There’s a recliner in the corner, so I practically fall back on it and crash.
A clattering noise awakens me, and it’s an aide setting a tray of something down for Carter to eat. The room is bright, so I check the clock on the wall and it’s five-thirty. A nurse enters and checks Carter, then turns to me.
“Mr. Hart. Has someone examined you?”
It’s the same nurse that was on duty last night. I’m sure I look like hell. I rub my face and say no.
“Come with me.”
“No, I have things to do.”
“You won’t be able to do any of those if that wound of yours gets infected. Now come with me.”
When we walk out of the room, Foster is coming down the hall.
“Kestrel. You’re awake.”
“Yeah. You were here earlier?”
“I’ve been here all day. That arrogant detective won’t be bothering you anymore. I’ve also called in some workers to board up your house. The police are finishing up in there, collecting evidence. There were quite a large number of bullets in your dining room and living room.”
It all barrels into me. “Jesus. I still can’t believe all this happened.”
“I’m so terribly sorry about your mother. I was coming here to see if you needed me to handle anything for you on that.”
“Kolson and I haven’t even talked about it. Carter was in surgery and Kolson’s wife is still critical.”
“I see.”
The nurse pipes in, saying, “Excuse me gentlemen, but Mr. Hart still needs to have his arm attended to.”
Foster looks at me and asks, “You too?”
“Yeah, but with all the mess yesterday, I haven’t been seen yet.”
“Go. I’ll sit with Carter.”
“Thank you.”
We make a brief stop at the nurse’s station and she lets the supervisor know she’s escorting me to the Emergency Department. Once there, they put me in a room and it’s not long before a physician pops in. She chastises me for waiting so long. The wound is deep and she makes all kinds of growling noises as she assesses me. Then she orders an X-ray.
“Mr. Hart, I think you have a bullet in your deltoid.”
Great. Exactly what I need.
The aide comes in with a wheelchair.
“I can walk.”
“It’s hospital policy, sir.”
I plop my ass in the chair and she wheels me to radiology. They X-ray my arm and sure enough, there’s a fucking bullet in there.
“The good news is it will be easy to retrieve.”
Shaking my head, I say, “Good. Then take it out.”
“Mr. Hart. We don’t do that here. You have to have to surgery for that.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s deep in the muscle. We can’t anesthetize you for that here.”
“Sure you can. Just go on ahead and give me a shot and do it.”
“Mr. Hart, it’s a very minor procedure.”
“Doctor, if it’s that minor, do it here. Now.”
“I’m not going to gouge up your arm, digging out a bullet. A surgeon needs to go in and do that. He or she will have to make an incision and hunt for the damn thing.”
“Why can’t you do that?”
“I just can’t.” And she walks out. Damn her.
Now what? This just keeps getting worse and worse. How will I help Carter with one arm? Christ. What a fiasco.
I get up and leave. That damn doctor is standing right there. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I have things to do.”
“Yes, you do. Namely have a bullet removed from your arm. Do you want to get gangrene and have your arm amputated?”
“Fuck.”
“Exactly, Mr. Hart. Now get back in there. I’m seeing who’s available to do this procedure right away. You’ve already waited too long as it is.”
About an hour later, a surgeon comes to see me. Her name is Jane Garrison. She is a no nonsense kind of woman. She explains what needs to be done and says it should only take an hour. I will have a block in my shoulder and twilight anesthesia. Soon, I’m undressed and being wheeled to pre-op. Kolson is already there waiting.
Anesthesia is a funny thing. Time has no meaning. Hours pass as seconds and I’m in recovery. The doctor stands next to me and tells me she got the bullet. My arm will be very sore but I will heal nicely.
“You’re lucky, Mr. Hart.” Then she leaves.
Kolson comes in and says he’s glad it all went well. I think he’s standing there as I fall back asleep.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Carter
Uncle Foster is in my room when I wake up.
“Hey sweetie.”
“Hey. Where’s Kestrel?”
“Apparently he had a bullet in his arm and they took it out, but he’s perfectly okay.”
“Jeez. What a freaking mess.”
“I know. I’m so sorry, honey.”
“How is everyone? Gabby and Sylvia?” I know they were pretty bad.
Uncle Foster squirms.
“Tell me.”
He walks to my bed and takes my hand. “Honey, Sylvia didn’t make it.”
“Oh, God! When?”
“While you were in surgery, I think.”
I sit up and push the covers off.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“I’m going to Kestrel.”
“You can’t go to him like this.”
“Why not? He needs me.”
“Look at you. You’re connected to all kinds of lines and things.”
“So? I’ll drag everything with me.”
“Carter, be reasonable. You can’t go.”
I pin him with one look. “Yes, I can. And I will.” I feel a tug on my chest and it’s that tube. It’s connected to something hanging on my bed.
Uncle Foster pushes the button for the nurse. The voice comes over the intercom and he tattles on me. Soon a nurse rushes into my room. They try to rationally explain to me why I can’t go to Kestrel and I tell them all to stuff it.
“You can either help me or I’ll do this on my own.” My obstinacy eventually wears them out.
A little while later, I’m sitting in a wheel chair with all sorts of crap hanging off it as they take me to see Kestrel. When we get to his room, the first thing I notice is his color. He looks gray. I don’t know if it’s because he’s in pain or because he just had surgery. Maybe it’s because of all the shit he’s just been through. They wheel my chair right next to his bed and I reach for his face. When I touch him, he jerks awake.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” I look at the nurse and Uncle Foster and tell them to leave us alone. Then I turn back to Kestrel. “I just found out about Sylvia. I’m so sorry.”
“Angel, what are you doing out of bed?”
He tries to sit up, but grimaces.
“Don’t. Just be still. I wanted to see you, Kestrel. I had to see you. I’m so sorry I couldn’t be with you during it all. And you had to handle it all on your own.”
“I’m glad you didn’t have to see it.”
His eyes shutter closed. He takes my hand and kisses it.
“I want to crawl into your bed with you, but I can’t because I have enough machinery in this chair to fill a damn factory.”
He chuckles. “I’m glad because it’s going to get you well.”
“How’s Gabby?’
“She’s doing well.”
“How long will you be here?”
“Just today. The bullet was in my muscle.”
I kiss his hand. “Thank you for pulling me off the chair. You saved my life, you know.”
“I may have almost gotten you killed.”
His statement puzzles me. “What do you mean?”
“Those people who shot up the house. They may have been after me.”
“Do the police know anything yet?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Foster is helping out.”
“I know.”
“Kolson is going to call a private investigator we know, too. We need to figure this out.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“No, I mean really okay?” I ask.
“No. I’m not.”
He lifts his head and it’s then I see the agony on his face, the dark pain in his beautiful eyes and the dampness on his cheeks.
“It’s my fault she’s dead. If she hadn’t come here for Christmas … and for the first time in her life she was happy.”
“Oh, Kestrel, this was not your fault.”
“Yeah, it was. I should have been more cautious. Had more security.”
“Like what? Armored walls? Bulletproof windows? How could you or anyone have known? This was a terrible crime and no one could’ve have done a thing.”
His hand covers his face as he cries. It’s a terrible thing to see a man torn apart by grief. And it’s even worse when you feel helpless and unable to do a thing for him.
I glance at the bed and then at everything it would take for me to crawl into it and make a decision. I can do this. So I hang the container that my chest tube is attached to on his bed, and I wheel all my poles as close to his bed as I can. And I climb in. When he feels the bed depress, he opens his eyes.
“Scoot over.”
I lift the sheet and blanket and shimmy underneath. It’s not easy, because I’m very sore, but I don’t care. I lie on my side and hold him. Luckily, his bad arm is on the other side.
“Are you comfortable?” he asks.
“More comfortable than I am alone.”
“I love you, angel. You bring heaven to me.”
“Hmm. Well, I don’t know about that. After yesterday, I would think you’d revise that opinion.”
“Never.”
And we fall asleep together. Just like that.
But not for long, because my nurse comes back and boy am I in trouble. She scolds me for getting out of that chair, and then again for missing my medication round. Kestrel promises to come to my room as soon as he’s released. This is the craziest thing I’ve seen, with all of us scattered around the hospital.
Kestrel Page 26