The Gamble and the Grave (Veronica Barry Book 4)

by Sophia Martin

  His explanation struck her as much wordier than was typical for Daniel. Did that mean that on some level, he realized he was in the wrong? Or was something else going on?

  With a sigh, Veronica said, “Fine. Let me just find the officer who took my last statement, and when I’m done telling him about the car, we’ll go.”

  ~~~

  The hotel was called the Stoughton Inn, in a neighborhood just north of the train tracks. Daniel bypassed the check-in area and led Veronica up a flight of outdoor stairs to the second floor. Officer Posey greeted them after Daniel knocked on number 204. It was nearly ten at night.

  “Detective Seong,” Posey said with a nod. “Everything alright?”

  Daniel gave him a smile. “Everything’s fine,” he said. “Just wanted to check in with Mr. Santiago before taking Veronica to her room.”

  Veronica scowled at Daniel. “Officer Posey picked up Miguel? I thought you said Cohen sent officers. They would have been part of his department, wouldn’t they?”

  “This is all unofficial,” Daniel said to her. “If we were doing official protective custody, then, yes, Cohen would have sent his own officers. But I wanted to be able to stay with you and I also don’t think we need to make things that complicated just yet. So he agreed to let me ask Posey and Donohue to help. Unofficially.”

  Miguel appeared in behind Posey in the open doorway. “Hey,” he said to Veronica, glancing at Daniel as well. “I guess you’ve had a pretty rough day.”

  “Yeah,” Veronica said, feeling tired. She followed Daniel inside.

  The room was carpeted in beige and the walls were a uniform white; there was little in the way of d�cor, other than a painting of Sutter’s Fort over the bed. The full-size bed, covered in a faded red corduroy duvet, had its head against the far wall. Between the bed and the door was a red corduroy loveseat and a matching armchair opposite it. Beyond the bed was a short corridor with one door in the wall, no doubt leading to the bathroom.

  Veronica walked over to the loveseat as Daniel murmured with Posey, and the latter handed him a hotel key card. As she sat, Miguel took the armchair. Veronica pulled out her phone. She hadn’t called Melanie yet, because she could think of no better way to cause Melanie’s blood pressure to spike than to tell her what had happened at the track. But the trouble was, Veronica needed someone to go by her house and take care of her animals. They all needed to be fed and Harry would need to go out. She didn’t want to ask Sunny again, especially at the last minute like this. Melanie couldn’t do it, but Angie could. It was getting late, though, and Veronica hesitated over asking the teen. And Daniel was in as much danger as Veronica was, so even if he would have been willing to leave the hotel to go take care of the animals, Veronica wouldn’t ask. He needed to stay safe, too.

  And would asking anyone to go check on the animals put them in danger?

  She’d been avoiding speaking to Daniel out of frustration over his choice to exclude her from the plan with the hotel, but now she realized she’d have to ask him about the animals. With a small noise of frustration, she turned to him.

  “Daniel, what about Harry and the cats? Do we just abandon them until—until when? Harry’s going to need to go out and Binky will go into a hunger coma if he doesn’t get his dinner.”

  “It’s taken care of,” Daniel said as he stood by Posey. “Donohue agreed to go by the house.”

  Posey gave her a nod and a smile.

  “That’s really kind of him,” Veronica said, “but isn’t it dangerous for anyone to go there right now? Somehow these people know who I am, enough to have followed me to Roseville. They must have been watching the house. They might hurt anyone who shows up there.”

  “Not when he drives up in a black and white,” Posey said. “Don’t worry, ma’am. Donohue’ll be fine.”

  Veronica managed a small smile at him, then leaned back into the couch cushion, feeling wiped out.

  “Anything weird happen to you today?” Daniel asked Miguel. “Any cars almost hit you, stuff like that?”

  Miguel shook his head. “No, nothing weird until I got Veronica’s text and the officers came to bring me here. That’s pretty weird, by my standards. But no—nothing happened that made me think someone was trying to kill me.”

  “Good,” Daniel said. “Let’s try to keep it that way.”

  “I like that plan,” Miguel agreed.

  “Ronnie, let’s get you to your own room,” Daniel said.

  Aside from feeling like she’d already taken root in the loveseat, Veronica had no objection to this. She was exhausted, and now that she knew her animals would be taken care of, all she wanted was to lie down and forget the whole day ever happened.

  “Lead on,” she said as she struggled to her feet.

  They left Posey and Miguel behind and walked past several doors, to number 212. Daniel produced the key card Posey had given him and opened the door. The room inside was almost identical to Miguel’s, except that there was a painting of the capitol building on the wall above the bed. Veronica gazed at it, feeling depressed.

  How did I end up here? she wondered. And why are there people out there who paint the capitol building, when I can’t find it in me to paint anything anymore?

  The thought hardly made sense even to her, and she knew it was mostly fatigue talking. But she did feel jealous of the anonymous artist of the painting, though there wasn’t anything very special about it. At least whoever he or she was, they were making art—whatever the quality. She missed making art.

  “Hey,” Daniel said in a soft voice. “You okay?”

  Veronica sighed. She wanted to lie down and get him to spoon with her, and if she was going to do that, she had to let go of her frustration over his decision not to tell her about the hotel right away. “Yeah,” she said. “I guess I’m just feeling—a little beat up? I feel terrible about Gerry. And—and I know this is going to sound really—I don’t know. Shallow? Self-centered? Under the circumstances? But I was just thinking how I miss painting.”

  “I know you do,” Daniel said, coming closer and taking her hand. “And I don’t think it’s shallow or self-centered. People use art to deal with stress and tragedy, and you’ve had plenty of both. It makes sense to me that you’d be wishing for that outlet right about now.”

  Veronica felt tears sting her eyes. She pressed her lips together, squeezed his hand, and leaned against him. Daniel let her hand go to wrap his arms around her.

  “I’m so tired,” she whispered.

  “Let’s get you in bed,” Daniel replied. “I’m going to sit up for just a little while to send some emails about the case, but as soon as I’m done, I’ll be right beside you.”

  Veronica pulled away to meet his eyes. “I was sort of looking forward to you holding me once I lay down.”

  Daniel’s eyes softened. “I can do that.”

  A shuddering sigh escaped her. “Thank you.”

  ~~~

  Harsh white lights and beeping noises—an antiseptic smell—blurry figures moved around her in a rush. A hospital. She was in a hospital.

  “Miss Levine?” a female voice said to her. “I’m going to put you on the monitor now.”

  Veronica’s vision cleared and she saw that the person talking to her was a blond woman in her thirties wearing pink scrubs. Beyond her, a woman with short, dark brown hair in a white coat was leaving the room, and another woman, light brown hair in a ponytail, wearing blue scrubs, was coming in. The two of them stopped and conferred briefly.

  A cramp started building in her belly and she looked down to see it rising, round as a ball, under a patient’s gown. For a second her heart raced as she thought of Melanie, but then she remembered what the blonde in the pink scrubs called her. Miss Levine. Who was Miss Levine?

  The blonde took her arm and had her sit up as she passed two elastic belts under her back, hitching up her gown. Then she attached square things each about the size of a deck of cards to cords that led into a machine with spooling printer p
aper. She put clear goo on one and pressed it to Veronica’s belly under the gown she wore, then put the other square on another spot. The cramp had reached a tightness that made Veronica’s host catch her breath. After a moment the blonde moved the first square, and the sound of a horse galloping came from the machine with the paper. The blonde smiled. “There’s the heartbeat,” she said. “Sounds good and strong.” She fiddled with the elastic belts, hooking the squares to them. Then she moved a few steps away to do something on the machine.

  “Miss Levine?” the brunette with the ponytail said, “we’re starting you on Nifedipine to stop your contractions. You may feel flushed, dizzy, or nauseous, and some patients get a headache. You just let us know how you’re doing, okay?”

  The cramp in Veronica’s belly finally began to subside.

  The brunette came over, pulling an IV stand behind her. She took Veronica’s arm and gave her hand a friendly pat. “Hey there,” she said, smiling. “I hear you’ve had a bad shock, poor dear.” The woman examined Veronica’s hand and wrist, turning it over. “I’m here to stick you for your IV, hon. I’m very good at it, though, so don’t you worry.”

  “Vicky’s the best,” the blonde chimed in.

  The brunette, Vicky, gave the blonde a smile, then turned back to Veronica. “Okay, this vein looks good. Let’s do it right here. You want Lidocaine first?”

  Veronica felt tears welling in her eyes, but she shook her head, no.

  “Good for you, dear,” Vicky said. She leaned in a bit. “I’ll tell you a little secret—the Lido makes it harder for me to find the vein. If you can tough it out, I’ll be done before you know it.”

  Veronica’s host looked away and after a moment a sharp pain pierced the back of her hand. Tears poured from her eyes and her body shook with sobs.

  “There now, all done,” Vicky said.

  Veronica’s host remained turned away, though she could sense the nurses moving around beside her.

  “Time to hook up the Nifedipine,” the blonde said. “Tell me your first and last name, please.”

  “Liz Levine,” Veronica said. “I mean, Elizabeth Levine.”

  “Good, and date of birth?”

  “July seventh, 1987,” Veronica said.

  “Alright,” the blonde said. Veronica’s host still didn’t turn back toward her. Her head felt heavy and her belly ached as the cramp returned. She could hear the nurse doing something with the IV. “Okay, Miss Levine. All done.”

  “Looks good,” Vicky said. “I’m off to set up another mommy with her IV now.”

  “I’ll probably get that bed, too,” said the blonde, and her voice sounded stressed.

  “It’s always crazy on Fridays,” Vicky said, and then Veronica heard her leave.

  “Alright, hon,” the blonde said, patting her leg. “I’m going to go check on another patient. Use the call button if you need something. I’ll be back in a few to check on you, and then Doctor Chan will be back by in about an hour, too. You hang in there, okay? We’re going to keep that baby cooking for a while longer, alright?”

  Veronica nodded without turning her head, closing her eyes as the cramp in her belly built again.

  ~~~

  Her eyes fluttered open and her first conscious thought was that her belly felt relaxed and normal, and it was a wonderful feeling. Veronica took a deep breath and let it go, allowing herself a moment to be happy that at least she was healthy and not about to go into preterm labor.

  Then she turned her attention to the dream.

  Liz Levine. It had to be Simeon’s mom. She was in the hospital on a Friday. Today was Friday, and Vicky the nurse said something about how Liz had had a shock. Most likely, that meant she’d heard about Gerry. Had it sent her into labor? Could be. It seemed likely, in fact. Probably the dream was of what was happened to Liz right now, or at least, just recently, that day. That meant Liz was in one of Sacramento’s hospitals, and they were trying to keep her from giving birth to Simeon too early.

  Simeon must have sent her the dream. What was he hoping for Veronica to do? She didn’t know how far along Liz was, but she couldn’t be more than 34 weeks, because Melanie had mentioned that her doctor wouldn’t stop her from having the baby after that point. That meant Simeon wasn’t due for over six weeks.

  Of course, if the drug they gave Liz didn’t work, he might be born any time now. Veronica hoped he would be okay. She hoped Gerry’s death hadn’t started a domino effect that would end in Simeon being injured at birth—or worse.

  What could she do, though? She didn’t see going to the hospital to talk to Liz. Aside from the fact that she probably shouldn’t leave the hotel for any reason other than something like identifying someone in a line-up, there was the tricky matter of what the hell she’d even say to Liz if she met with her. “Hi. I was trying to befriend Gerry when these people who work for Thad Bayer tried to kill me and shot him instead. Sorry about that.”

  God, poor Liz. She must be devastated. When she and Gerry decided to keep Simeon, they’d had such dreams for their future. Liz wanted a family so badly. It didn’t matter that Veronica knew how terrible her future would have been; Liz didn’t know that. She must feel like she’d lost everything she ever hoped for when she heard that Gerry died.

  Veronica shifted, scrunching the rather flat pillow to try to make it more comfortable. Beside her, Daniel began snoring softly.

  There just wasn’t anything she could do right now for Simeon, Veronica decided. Maybe in a few days she could see if Liz was still in the hospital. A few calls ought to be all it took to figure out which one she was in, unless she’d registered privately or something. But assuming they would tell Veronica if Liz was a patient, Veronica would find her, and go and visit. She’d pretend to have been an acquaintance of Gerry’s. She’d claim they chatted when she walked to her car from her knitting class, which she’d been taking for several weeks. Gerry told her all about Liz, and their dreams for the future. Maybe she’d even admit she was there when he died. If Veronica could somehow befriend Liz, maybe she could still do what she set out to with Gerry before it all went wrong. She’d be a presence in Simeon’s life, and try to keep Liz from making bad choices. Everything might already have changed, Veronica thought. With Gerry dead, it had to have, didn’t it?

  With a sigh, Veronica scrunched the pillow again and shifted her shoulder and hip to get more comfortable. Before long, she was asleep again.

  Chapter 13

  Veronica woke up to see Daniel sitting in the faded red armchair, sipping a coffee from a to-go cup and typing on his laptop. “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey,” he answered with a smile. “Hungry? I got pastries. I didn’t get you anything to drink, though, since I wasn’t sure how long you’d be sleeping.”

  “What time is it? How long have you been up?”

  “It’s eight-twenty, and I got up at six. I had some emails to write and I wanted to get a jump on them.”

  “Eight-twenty? Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” Veronica asked, sitting up.

  Daniel shook his head. “That’s why I needed to do those emails. I’ve got something in the works and they’re going to call me if they need me, but until then, I can stay here.”

  “Oh, okay,” Veronica said, and smiled. It was nice, getting an extra morning in the week with Daniel. He had turned back to the laptop and was typing, looking very focused. She watched him for a couple of minutes, and a frown began to shape itself on her face. This was all kind of odd. This unofficial protective custody, Daniel taking a day off work… perhaps it was all because of how close she’d come to being killed yesterday—Daniel had seemed very upset about that. Which was to be expected, of course. But she just felt like there was something else going on. Something he wasn’t telling her.

  Maybe she just felt that way because of how he’d waited to spring the whole hotel thing on her the day before. Surely he wasn’t holding back anything else.

  Veronica swung her legs over the side of the bed. Without l
ooking up, Daniel said, “Donohue dropped off a bag of your things. I put it in the closet.”

  Veronica hadn’t noticed the closet the night before, but sure enough, across from the bathroom door was an accordion-style door with slats. She opened it and found a gym bag on the floor inside.

  Unzipping the bag, she spotted folded jeans, two tees, a bra, and panties, as well as a plastic bag with a tooth brush, tooth paste, deodorant, and comb. Veronica gnawed on her upper lip. She’d never expected Officer Donohue to go sorting through her underwear drawer and bathroom. The next time she saw him was going to be awkward.

  With a deep breath, she stood, carrying the bag with her into the bathroom. There was nothing to be done about the embarrassment now, and she could really use a shower.

  Luckily the hotel stocked the bathroom with small soaps and mini bottles of shampoo and conditioner, as Donohue had not brought any of those. Veronica turned on the spray and was pleased to see that the water pressure was good. She adjusted it to the warmth she preferred and stepped in, letting the water pour over her. She did nothing but stand there with her eyes closed for a time, imagining that the pounding water was washing away the events of yesterday as well as all the awful visions lately.

  Wouldn’t it be nice if she could rinse all of it away and step out of the shower feeling as clean in her mind as she did in her body?

  Well, she’d do the best she could not to dwell on all the bad stuff, she decided, and she grabbed the soap and went to work. Some of Gerry’s blood had hit her when he was shot, though she’d washed herself off at the gym. Last night she had been too exhausted to do anything more about it. Now she relished covering herself in suds, washing her hair, and rinsing it all off.

  As she watched the water go down the drain at her feet, it seemed to grow murkier—and then it went purple.

  ~~~

  “Hurry up, Simeon!” she heard a woman’s voice—Liz’s, she was fairly certain—coming from outside the bathroom. The shower had changed. It was no longer the bland white plastic of the hotel, but covered in cracked beige tile, instead. The cracks were dark with mildew and Veronica hoped she wouldn’t brush up against them.