Damage: The Men of Law (The Men of Law Series Book 2)

by Casey Clipper

  The fear in her brother’s eyes spoke volumes. He was terrified for her. A rarity for her cocky younger sibling.

  “There are a couple detectives who want to speak with you, but we want clearance from the doctors first,” her mom said. “I don’t want you upset.”

  Too late.

  A young nurse came into the room, Harry on her heels. His brows set into a furrow more pronounced that normal. “Hello, Josie. It’s good to have you awake. How are you feeling?”

  “My head hurts.”

  “I’ll get you something for the pain.” The woman checked the machines and went about taking Josie’s vitals. “I’m going to call the doctor to come down now that you’re awake, so he can talk to you.”

  After the nurse did her duty and left, within moments a doctor walked through the door. “Glad to have you back, Josie. How are you feeling?”

  Like hell. Like she’d been hit by a truck. A burning pain developed in her stomach. The area where a knife slipped through her skin like slicing through butter. She glanced down at her mid-section, covered by the hospital gown and blankets. The doctor seemed to understand where her thoughts went. He reached down and lifted her gown. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the damage done to her belly.

  “The wound is healing nicely,” the doctor said.

  “When can Josie come home?” Harry asked.

  She opened her eyes and looked to her brother, who now stood behind her mom, his hands on her slim shoulders, squeezing in support. His eyes held such a depth of sorrow, she couldn’t imagine what her brothers had gone through, worrying about her.

  “I’m okay,” she mouthed to him.

  Tears formed in his eyes as he turned away. David cleared his throat and coughed from the opposite side of the room.

  “She’ll remain in the hospital for a bit, Mr. Conley. We’ll move her to a step down unit tomorrow and from there it depends on her recovery.” The doctor listened to her heart.

  “I’m going to order a sonogram of your stomach to see how everything looks in there. The knife nicked your large intestine. We were able to fix that. You did lose your appendix and we repaired the wounded muscles. You’re doing well, Josie.” He nodded with a kind smile.

  Josie couldn’t disagree more.

  The nurse entered the room with a needle, injecting the contents into her IV. “For your headache.”

  “Order her a liquid lunch. Let’s see how Miss Conley handles some sustenance,” the doctor said.

  “Yes, sir.” The nurse scooted out the room.

  “There are detectives who want to speak with Josie. Is it all right or should we have them wait?” She wrung her worried hands.

  Josie didn’t want to speak with anyone. She didn’t want to relive what happened. A memory tried to creep its way into her psyche. She focused in on the doctor to push against the threat. She didn’t want to see. She. Did. Not...too late. The fight she put up crashed into her. She remembered vividly the knife going into her stomach and the utter shock that had temporarily frozen her. When the instinct to live took over, she’d been able to get loose from her attacker for the shortest of seconds, scrambling for the front door. She failed. She’d been tackled from behind, landing on her stomach. He’d flipped her over. She remembered punching and kicking and scratching. Trying to utilize every ounce of self defense her younger brothers had taught her over the years. All to no avail.

  “I think we’ll make them wait until tomorrow at the very least,” the doctor said, thankfully interrupting her thoughts. Sympathy softened his brown eyes. “We’ll see how you feel then and decide whether or not to allow them in to speak with you. You’re my patient first, above what they want. I’ll explain to them that someone on the hospital staff will be in contact as soon as you can have visitors.”

  “Thank you.” Relief coursed through her, her body losing its rigidness that she hadn’t noticed developed.

  Josie’s lids grew heavy, the pain medication quickly taking effect. She didn’t want to close her eyes, terrified of the memories the blackness may bring.

  “We’re right here, Josie,” David said, stepping up beside her. “We’re right here.”

  A tear slipped down the side of her face. She didn’t want to sleep. She didn’t want to close her eyes. How would she ever be the same again?

  4

  Dean slammed down the phone, frustrated with the hospital. Two days since their victim had been awake and the doctors refused to give them access to her. He’d found out she’d been moved to the step down unit of the hospital, which meant her health had be improving.

  Nick sidled up next to him, shoving a cup of coffee into his face. “Well?”

  “They’re still saying she can’t have visitors.”

  “Yet her family is constantly with her,” Nick noted.

  They had hospital security keeping a watchful eye on who visited Miss Josie Conley and checking in with Nick.

  A couple federal agents walked into the precinct and everyone in the area went mute and still. Jordan actually stopped mid step, files in hand, watching the men march straight into Chief’s office without knocking.

  The entire precinct was under investigation because Chief hadn’t called in the feds for the jewelry thief case that rocked the unit to its core, testing friendship and loyalty and careers. Somehow the feds ignored the actual jewelry thief, herself, and instead decided to start an internal review inquiry.

  “Wonder who Hannah knows in the FBI to get the case on her completely ignored,” Nick mused when the men disappeared behind the closed door.

  Good question. Hannah, former jewelry thief and focus on the team’s long investigation into her heists, and now his best friend’s newlywed wife, had to have her hands dipped into something bigger than they all knew in order for her legal troubles to magically vanish. Or have connections beyond their reach. Because internal affairs and the feds dropped their own investigation into her Western Pennsylvania crime spree as if it never occurred.

  “I don’t even give a shit who Hannah’s connections are right now. I want to get into that hospital room and speak to Miss Conley before she starts to forget events or begins to misremembers.” Dean stood and slid into his jacket.

  “We going?” Nick asked.

  “Yeah, is that all right?” He should consult Nick first, since his new partner was leading the case.

  Nick chuckled and downed the remainder of his hot brew. “Yes. Let’s go make our way into that room.”

  ***

  Nick pulled his “in charge” card when they arrived at the hospital and flashed his badge. He managed to get into an argument at the nurse’s station with a nurse and a physician. Meanwhile, Dean remained in the background, entertained by the scene. Nick rarely got into any sort of disagreement with the public. The man had a natural ability to get people to answer his questions and follow his instructions. But the nurse and doctor weren’t swayed by Nick’s charismatic prowess.

  Dean crossed his arms over his chest, noticing the pretty aide that walked by. Early twenties, borderline the minimum age he would bed.

  He sighed and ran a hand through his short hair. He was tired. To his bones. Exhaustion seeped into his muscles and veins, constantly running throughout his body. The team had been working that damn jewelry thief case for a couple years, burning the candle at both ends, and instead of any down time, they jumped immediately to this case. Dean always tried to keep up pretenses of his energy level with his infamous philandering ways, but truth be told, he lost his spirit five years ago.

  Out of his peripheral vision, Dean saw one of the young men from the picture in Miss Conley’s home march past, through the double doors that led to the patient rooms. Dean pushed off the wall and followed. Screw the doctor.

  They reached the end of the hall, the man never aware he was being tailed. He took a left into the last room. Murmurs echoed outward, into the hallway. Dean approached, listening to the low chatter briefly, then knocked on the door. All eyes swung his direc
tion. But it was the woman in the large bed that immediately snagged his attention.

  Her large jade green eyes widened, a hint of fear flashing through the color. The hue much brighter than the last time he’d seen her. A surprised sense of relief coursed through him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his badge to let her know he meant no harm.

  “I’m Detective Dean Rooney,” he said.

  The man he followed took a defensive position next to Miss Conley. “I thought the hospital wasn’t allowing the police to talk to Josie yet.”

  Dean smiled, trying to express a sense of warmth and comfort. Part of his job involved acting. Most civilians didn’t know the psychological game detectives sometimes needed to play to get information. The good cop and bad cop routine wasn’t a misnomer. “They’re not.”

  The young man narrowed his eyes. “How did you get back here?”

  Dean raised a brow. “I followed you.”

  “Damn it, Harry,” an identical version of the young man snapped, approaching the other side of the bed, taking guard over his sister. “You need to watch your surroundings. We have to be careful for Josie.”

  “How was I supposed to know that some cop was following me?”

  “By looking over your shoulder, idiot.”

  An older version of Miss Conley approached Dean. “Mr... I’m sorry...”

  “Rooney.”

  “Mr. Rooney, as you can imagine, my daughter has been through a lot. She’s not able to talk about what happened to her at the moment,” the woman said kindly.

  Dean shoved his hands into his pockets, a nonthreatening motion. “I completely understand. But I do need to speak with your daughter while events remain fresh in her memory. I totally get it will be difficult for her, but you do want us to catch the person who did this to her, right? So she can go back to her home and feel safe? We all want to get this person off the streets and behind bars so he or she can’t victimize another woman again.”

  “He.” A soft voice rose above the defiant chatter in the room.

  Dean peered past the mother. “He?”

  She nodded, tears filling those striking eyes. Dean caught himself, fighting his body’s response to lurch to her side to comfort her. She was unbelievably fragile laid up in that bed. Features sunken and pale, bruising circling her neck.

  Fuck it.

  He took the strides to the side of her bed, muscling past the second twin, pulled up a chair, and took her hand into his. Her palms were like ice. Dean instinctually rubbed them to create warmth.

  “How are you?” He truly wanted to know, his question not part of an act.

  “I think I’ll be able to go home soon,” she said, toying with the white blanket that covered her. “I’m tired of being in the hospital.”

  “She’s not going back to her house,” the first sibling said, a stubborn frown directed at her. “She’s coming home to stay with us.”

  Josie rolled her eyes. “Let’s not start this again.”

  Her brother huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. Dean smiled at the necessary overprotection. Truth was, he should be demanding her safety and Dean couldn’t fault him for it. If he had a sister or wife...

  He toed the line of the subject of a spouse and quickly shoved it from his thoughts. He couldn’t afford to have her creep up on him today. Or any day.

  “How are you feeling physically, though?” Dean asked. He didn’t need a squabble to interrupt and derail the questions he had to ask and receive answers.

  “I’m in pain. It’s hard to move in any way without stressing my stomach.” She pulled the blanket higher, up to her chest. “I’m so afraid the wound will reopen, even though the doctor assures me I’ll be all right.” She laid in a semi-propped position, tubes and wires connected to her arms and chest. Up close, her skin appeared transparent. Dean wondered if it was because of her condition or if she was naturally that fair.

  “Did they say how long the wound would take to heal?” He’d never suffered from any injury close to what Josie experienced. Only broken bones as a kid. A scrape here and there as a patrol officer. He’d never been shot or received any major injury on the job. Hell, he’d never had to pull his piece and each day he was thankful for that. But looking at this woman, laid up in bed with a family distraught over her condition, he’d gladly trade places to spare her pain. His heart ached for her, knowing her healing would not be only physical. She had no idea what was in store for her once she left the hospital.

  “No,” she said softly.

  He nodded and found himself stroking her soft, delicate hand. Had he been doing that the entire time? “Can I ask you some questions? I really need answers so we can start looking for the man who did this to you.”

  “I don’t know what I’ll be able to tell you, Detective Rooney.”

  “Call me Dean.”

  “Dean,” she whispered. His name coming from her did something to him that he couldn’t quite place a finger on. Her voice cut through him, the sound feminine, full of quiet strength.

  “You might not be able to answer some of my questions, but that’s all right. There will be details you don’t think are important, but really are.” He reluctantly let go of her hand, pulling out a small notepad and pen. He should contact Nick, but his concern about upsetting her with too many detectives questioning, all ears listening intently to her every word, kept him from reaching out. She seemed to be okay with him in the room and he refused to push her comfort zone. It was a mistake to leave out his partner, but he went with his gut on this one.

  “Okay.” She warily looked at her brothers. “Are you sure you want to stay for this?”

  The first brother reached down and took her other hand. “What you say out loud for us to hear won’t be anything compared to what you went through. Don’t worry about protecting us. If you don’t want us here, we’ll leave and go get coffee.”

  Josie stared at her brother for a long moment. Dean watched her internally debate. Victims tended to keep what they went through locked away to protect their family from the horror. It wasn’t unusual. It was why family members sometimes remained in the dark as to the victim’s pain and their daily struggle. They didn’t understand because they didn’t know the full scope of the tragedy. Dean sympathized, living with a pain that haunted him day and night.

  He watched the interaction of the family. The brother’s hand she held and his pleading eyes said that his concern was only for his sister. Harry, the other twin’s face was blank, zero emotion coming from him. His shoulders curled inward, his eyes focused on the skyline outside the window. Her mother barely contained herself. She shifted in her seat, reaching out once to touch her daughter, then snapping her hand back, as if not knowing what to do.

  Josie dropped her gaze to her lap, her brows stitched together before she peered back up at her family. “Would you please leave,” she said, “please?”

  Her mother’s face scrunched. “Are you certain?”

  Josie bobbed her head once.

  “If you need us, we won’t be far. We’ll go to the waiting area,” brother number one said. Each family member kissed her on the forehead and left the room, reluctantly, it would seem on the surface, but they bowed to her wishes.

  “You get along well with your family,” Dean said. He needed to rule all of them out.

  “We’re all very close.” She adjusted the blanket again, not making eye contact. “After our father died ten years ago, we circled the wagons and rely on each other, sometimes heavily. Yes, we get along.”

  Dean tilted his head at the deep sorrow that seeped through her words. “Can I ask how he passed?”

  “Heart attack. He was so young. It was unexpected. They found out afterward he had a blockage. He was at work and just fell to the floor,” she answered factually.

  She compartmentalized her pain. Dean had seen it hundreds of times and it fascinated him how people were capable of the trait. He couldn’t. His own pain continued to be raw.

  “
I’m sorry,” he said.

  Her lips twitched up, uncomfortable with the empathy. “Thank you.”

  “So what were you doing the day you were attacked? Did you have any plans?” he asked, bluntly getting straight to the point. Maybe not the best tactic, but he wasn't the detective who served a soft hand. That job tipped toward Nick and Jordan.

  Josie stiffened, her eyes instantly filling with tears.

  Dean snatched the box of tissues on a nearby cart and handed them to her. “Take your time.”

  She swiped at the tears that escaped. “No, I didn’t have any plans. I had just returned from garage sale hopping with my mom and brothers. It’s a Saturday tradition that we’ve been doing for years. One or two times a month we go.”

  “Did you buy anything?” He scribbled every word she said onto his tiny notepad.

  “I bought an old vanity to refinish.”

  His head popped up. “You can do that?”

  “I love to.” Her face lit up. Color came to her cheeks and her features brightened. She was stunning. “I love to lose myself in a simple or not-so-simple project. It’s peaceful and mind clearing. It’s an escape from life’s difficulties.”

  Dean did that now with his home. Each day off work he lost himself in a project that needed accomplished to upkeep his house. Tasks he hadn’t been able to put in the necessary time when his wife had been alive. Seated in the hospital chair, at that very moment, he could honestly admit he regretted not getting his “honey do” list completed for his Erin.

  Dean crushed down the temptation to fall back into self-loathing for not doing right by his deceased wife. It was too easy to do. Right now, Miss Conley needed his focus.

  “Did you get anything else?”

  Her brows slid together in concentration. “I don’t believe so.”

  “Did your brothers or mother purchase anything?”

  “Harry bought fishing items. He always scoops up trinkets and gear he comes across,” she answered, her tone happy.

  Dean kept writing. “Does he fish often?”

  “Not like he used to.” She frowned. “He used to go every weekend. Saturdays to one of the rivers. Sundays to a different lake. The alone time relaxes him. He was really good at snagging a meal. He’d bring Mom home fish to cook for Saturday night dinners. Sundays he said he tossed the fish back in, unless it was a big catch.”