Except he didn’t. At least not at first. When Veronica got home he gave her a look and then busied himself in the kitchen, chopping vegetables. It was past seven, and Veronica was hungry, but she would have happily stayed hungry a while longer if it meant Daniel would talk to her and stop being angry.
Pushing it probably wouldn’t help, though, and Harry was dancing around her, making happy noises that she was home, so she crouched and ruffled his fur, letting him give her some puppy kisses. She went to the laundry-mud room area they reserved for all of the pet stuff and opened a can for him, then did the same for the cats, who were markedly absent. She’d been gone a lot this week. They weren’t going to forgive her for that so easily.
Daniel was mad at her, and the cats were mad at her. At least Harry was cheerful as always, she thought, watching him enjoy his dinner.
Her phone buzzed and she checked the text that had come in. It was from Khalilah—for a moment Veronica hesitated. If Khalilah was unhappy that she’d given Miguel her number that would bring the total of those mad at her to four, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for that. But there was no sense putting off finding out—she’d just worry about it. She opened her phone.
“The cute guy you were having coffee with? No problem! Hope he calls.”
Veronica let out a breath. Well. At least she could count two happy campers—Khalilah and Harry. Well, three if you counted Miguel, who was in for a pleasant experience if he did go through with calling Khalilah.
I suppose that means there’s a balance—three that are happy with me, three that kind of want to kill me. Not bad, thought Veronica.
Watching Harry finish off his food, she considered getting the leash and taking him for a walk, but it was dark out now and she really shouldn’t avoid Daniel. Much as it might be uncomfortable, the best thing to do would be to sit down at the kitchen counter and wait until he was ready to talk to her.
Veronica mustered her courage and did just that.
Chop. Chop-chop-chop. Chop-chop-chop, went Daniel’s favorite kitchen knife. He scrapped the vegetables he’d been dicing from the cutting board into a pot. A deft move to the fridge and he held a carton of beef stock, then poured it into the pot as well.
“Making soup?” Veronica asked.
He glanced at her. “Yep.”
“Ah.”
With a sharp flick of his wrist he turned on the burner. Then he stood as if he didn’t know what to do. Apparently he’d prepared everything he needed to, and that meant he couldn’t busy himself with cooking anymore. Veronica waited.
After a minute or two, he let out a long breath through clenched teeth. At last he turned to her.
“Veronica,” he said.
She winced at his use of her full name.
“Look, Daniel, I’m really sorry, okay? I didn’t think I was putting myself in danger but you were right. I didn’t think about how Bayer might have been ready for me to come after him—it just seems like only a crazy person would do that, but he didn’t know if I was crazy, and he’s kind of crazy himself. I should have taken that into account and I’m sorry I put myself in harm’s way like that.”
Daniel pressed his lips closed and ran a hand through his hair. “Veronica, I have to say something, and I need you to listen. I mean, really listen, and hear me. Can you do that?”
Crossing her arms, she nodded, bracing herself for something awful. Was he going to say they needed to take a step back? Maybe not live together anymore? Or maybe he’d really had it, and he was breaking up with her.
“Up until recently, I’ve believed that you and I—we’re a team. I like it that way. The visions and the information you get, it’s often tied to some pretty dangerous situations, and I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that sometimes you’re going to be in danger as a result. That hasn’t been easy for me. But when I thought you would always work with me—when I thought you’d always keep me in the loop, and we’d figure out the best way to handle stuff together—well, it was reassuring. I figured with both of us trying to find the safest way to approach the dangerous stuff, we could maybe avoid you getting hurt.”
Veronica gave him a nod and tightened her arms. Here comes the ‘but,’ she thought.
“But just lately—I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but it’s like you want to cut me out. You’ve stopped telling me everything, you go off and do stuff without checking in with me—and I—I mean, you’re an adult, you don’t have to get my permission about how you live your life, but—I just can’t deal with not knowing. I need to know when you’re going to take some big risk. I want to have a chance to go with you, or at least figure out a safer way for you to do things. That cemetery thing you did, and then going to meet Gerry Wallace—”
“But I had no idea that would end up being dangerous!”
“You’ve seen a future where the guy was cooking meth!” Daniel exclaimed. “It’s one of the only pieces of information you have about him. I mean, I knew when you talked to Miguel that you would probably want to go meet him, but you never said you were going that day. I could have gone with you! Or at least I would have liked for you to call me when you got there and when you were done, or something. I mean—god, it sounds like I’m trying to treat you like a teenager, Veronica, but if we were talking about you getting coffee with Khalilah or something I don’t need to know about that! Just when you’re going to meet someone who could potentially hurt you.”
Veronica started to say that she felt safe because she believed the spirits would warn her when there was danger, but Daniel held up a hand.
“The thing is, I think this is all coming from that stupid thing I said to Miguel about how your gift is hard to live with.”
Veronica looked away.
Leaving the kitchen, Daniel walked over to where she sat on the other side of the counter. “Ronnie,” he said in a soft voice.
Her eyes flew up to meet his, hope buoyed by his use of his nickname for her.
“Ronnie,” he said again, “I don’t think your gift is a burden. I don’t wish you were ‘normal.’” He used air quotes around the word. “I think you’re amazing. Your visions fascinate me—they are so miraculous. I feel so lucky to be a part of your life.”
“Really?” Veronica whispered. Her heart felt so full, and joy spread through her, warm and light.
He reached out a hand and ran it into her hair, pulling her face toward him and kissing her. “Really,” he breathed.
A huge smile broke over Veronica’s face.
He moved away just a little. “That’s why I really need to be a part of it—the visions and everything. Because I can’t stand the thought of losing you. Please, Ronnie. Tell me you’ll let us be a team again.”
Letting out a little laugh of joy, Veronica nodded. “I’m so sorry, Daniel. I just let my insecurities get the best of me.”
He beamed at her, and then pulled her in for another kiss. “Better not let that happen again,” he murmured, and she yelped as he scooped her into his arms.
“What about dinner?” she laughed.
“The nice thing about soup is it can just simmer for as long as you want,” Daniel said. “Oh, and remind me to tell you my news.”
“You have news? What news?”
Daniel gave her a wicked grin. “Later, Ronnie.” And he carried her into the bedroom.
~~~
“Daniel had Felsen arrested?” Melanie gasped, lying on her left side on her couch, holding a decaf mocha with a straw that Veronica had brought her.
Veronica tore an end off a croissant and ate it, nodding. After swallowing, she said, “Can you believe it? I kind of knew he was hiding something, but everything was so crazy for me what with the shooting and then trying to stop Bayer at the convention center…”
“Felsen was some kind of leak?” Melanie asked.
Sunny came in from the kitchen, then, wearing mitts and carrying a foil-covered oven dish. She shot Veronica’s croissant an evil look and set the dish on the coffee
table.
“Daniel suspected that someone in the department must have told Bayer’s hired thugs about me,” Veronica said, choosing not to acknowledge Sunny’s hostility to her pastry. “I guess it was right after I went in to ID the grave robbers. He hired Russian gangsters, you know, and Felsen has a history with them. They were asking around, trying to get a name for me and all, and she heard about it.”
“Jesus. I know she hates you and she tried to frame you last summer, but I never thought she wanted you dead,” Melanie said.
“You saved her life at that Fourth of July thing! I thought she was kind of grateful for that,” Sunny said.
“She was. I mean, enough to let the whole frame job thing go. But I think when I tried to break her and Eric up it just—well, she lost all patience with me,” Veronica said with a tight laugh. She tore off another piece of croissant and ate it, savoring the buttery, flaky goodness of it. Sunny scowled.
“So, Daniel set up a sting?” Melanie said, glancing from Sunny to Veronica.
“When I nearly got shot and Gerry was killed, he knew someone had given my name and probably my address to Bayer’s goons. He wasn’t sure it was her, just that someone in the department sold me out. Then Posey saw her leaving this known hangout of the Russian mob.”
“So Posey and Daniel cooked something up together?” Melanie asked.
“That’s why I didn’t go into official protective custody,” Veronica said. “Daniel was afraid if I did she’d give them the address of the safe house. He pretended I did, though—he got Detective Cohen to do all the paperwork and everything, and then he got Internal Affairs involved, and they watched to see if Felsen made a move.”
“And she did?” Melanie exclaimed, sending a bit of mocha slopping over the side of the cup and onto her hand.
“Yep,” Veronica said, and Sunny handed Melanie a napkin. “They watched the safe house, too, so they arrested the guys who showed up there, and they arrested her right after she called them.”
“Unbelievable,” Melanie said, resting her head for a moment.
Sunny removed the foil from the oven dish. The smell of baked blueberries lifted into the air.
“Oh my,” said Melanie. “What is this little piece of heaven?”
“Blueberry-apple cobbler,” Sunny said.
Veronica made a show of wrapping what was left of her croissant in a paper napkin. “Yes, please,” she said.
Angie appeared in the living room doorway. “Did someone say ‘cobbler’?” she asked.
“There’s plenty for everyone,” Sunny said. “We need plates or bowls or something, though, and spoons. If someone could get those I’ll get the first DVD going.”
“Plus we need whipped cream,” Melanie said. “Ange?”
“Okay, but I can’t bring all of that out at once,” Angie said.
“I’ll help,” Veronica said, standing.
The doorbell rang.
“Um, okay—Angie, get the door, alright?” Veronica said. “Sunny and I will get the stuff from the kitchen.”
Angie gave her a nod and went to the door.
Veronica caught the voice of Melanie’s boss, Darnell James, as she and Sunny entered the kitchen. “We’d better add a bowl and spoon,” she said.
“Which cabinet?” Sunny asked.
Veronica pointed to the one above a rice cooker and went to the fridge to find whipped cream. She could hear Melanie greeting Darnell, but there was a quality to her voice that seemed off. Veronica grabbed the can of cream and made her way quickly to the living room to see what was the matter.
Darnell stood by the couch where Melanie lay, but there was something unsteady in his stance. His skin, normally a medium chocolate color, was grayish in tone. He seemed to be having trouble catching his breath.
“Darnell,” Veronica said. “Everything okay?”
“Oh yes,” he replied. “Though I think I need to take a seat.”
Veronica hurried forward and took his arm, but he moved to a chair without any trouble. She released him and he didn’t seem to notice her gesture, though.
“I’ve been pretty tired these last few days,” he said, still panting. Sweat glistened on his forehead.
“Darnell, you do not look good,” Melanie said sternly. “Have you seen a doctor yet?”
He raised a hand to wave off her concern, and let it drop in his lap as though it weighed too much. “I’m fine, really.”
Still, his breathing didn’t return to normal.
Sunny appeared next to Veronica, holding a stack of bowls and a cluster of spoons. She took one look at Darnell and set everything down on the coffee table with a clatter. “Excuse me,” she said, “we need to get you to a hospital.”
Darnell gave her a puzzled look. “I don’t believe we’ve met…?”
“We’ll do introductions in the car,” Sunny said. She looked at Veronica and Melanie. “He’s having a heart attack. We need to go now.”
“What? No,” Darnell managed, though his breathing was getting more labored.
“My dad looked just like this right before he had his heart attack two years ago,” Sunny said. “Come on, people. We have to get him to the ER now!”
Sunny’s words were like a jolt of electricity. Veronica gently took Darnell’s arm again, and Sunny hurried to his other side to take the other.
“Sorry, Melanie, we’ll have to postpone again,” Sunny said.
“No problem,” Melanie said. “I’ll call Jake right away. And you two call me once Darnell’s admitted, okay? I want to know how he’s doing.”
“I don’t need a hospital,” Darnell protested as Sunny and Veronica pulled him to his feet.
“Tell it to the doctors in the ER,” Sunny said without a beat. She steered them out of Melanie’s house and down to her P.T. Cruiser. In moments Veronica was sitting in the back seat with Darnell and Sunny was zipping efficiently through traffic toward the hospital.
“This is silly,” Darnel said. “I’m just a little winded.” His words sounded slightly slurred, though, and Veronica was becoming increasingly alarmed. She clenched her jaw every time a red light stopped them. Darnell rested his head back and closed his eyes. Veronica was reminded of the other times she rushed someone to the hospital—Melanie’s friend and one-time rival, Allie, whose water broke on Melanie’s porch. Before that, it had been Daniel—when he was stabbed apprehending kidnappers who had taken Khalilah and another woman. Somehow being a psychic meant going to hospitals as much as it did crime scenes, Veronica thought, her nerves humming with tension. It occurred to her that maybe Darnell had sought Melanie out because of Veronica’s warning to him—he might have decided to visit Melanie because he knew she would remember it, and he needed someone to force him to get medical attention. She just hoped they had caught him in time.
Finally they pulled into the lot by the ER at Sutter Memorial. As soon as the car stopped Sunny was rushing around to help Veronica ease Darnell out. Together they half-carried him in through the huge doors.
Looking around wildly, they both waved with their free hands to the first person in scrubs who came into their line of vision.
“Help! Please!” Veronica exclaimed.
“This man is having a heart attack!” Sunny added.
A chubby brown-haired man in colorful scrubs hurried over, followed closely by a Latina in blue scrubs. The man put a stethoscope to Darnell’s chest and after a moment gave the Latina a nod.
“Okay, we’re admitting this man. What’s your name, sir?” colorful scrubs asked.
“Darnell James,” said Darnell.
“Good to meet you, Mr. James. Glad you made it in.” To blue scrubs he said, “I’ve got arrhythmia, labored breathing, and sweating. Page Doctor Yeleshev. Tell him looks likely to be a myocardial infarction.”
Blue scrubs nodded and jogged to the admitting desk.
Waving to a South Asian man in blue scrubs, colorful scrubs called, “I need a wheelchair.”
In moments they were wheeling D
arnell off. Veronica called and updated Melanie, but when Jake arrived fifteen minutes later, there was no news.
~~~
“Is anyone here family of Mr. Darnell James?” the man with the colorful scrubs asked.
Veronica stood up alongside Sunny and Jake. It was the first time anyone had come to talk to them, and it had already been two hours.
“Just me,” said Jake. Colorful scrubs looked surprised. “Darnell’s sister and mother are on their way, but they live in San Francisco and they haven’t arrived yet. I’m Darnell’s husband.”
Colorful scrubs gave a curt nod. “Alright, Mr. …uh?”
“Garrity.”
“Mr. Garrity,” said colorful scrubs. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll explain the situation.”
Only a moment after Jake walked away with the doctor, two African American women burst into the waiting area of the ER.
“Are you looking for Darnell James?” Veronica asked.
The older of the two, who had short gray hair and a careworn face, hurried over to her. “I’m Adelaide James. Darnell is my son,” she said. The other woman, who was middle aged, wore her hair in a curling pageboy. “This is my daughter, Darnell’s sister, Harriet. And who may I ask are you?”
“I’m Veronica Barry, a friend of Darnell’s,” she answered. “And this is Sunny Seong.”
“I only just met Darnell,” Sunny said.
“But she’s the one who could tell he was having a heart attack,” Veronica said. “She drove us here.”
“Oh my Lord,” Adelaide said. She grabbed Sunny by the hands. “Thank you, Miss Seong. I just—I can only say thank you. Jake called me a while back, you know,” she continued, looking at her daughter Harriet and then at Veronica. “He was beside himself—so worried. He said they went to a psychic, can you imagine? And she predicted this!”
Sunny glanced at Veronica who gave her a tight-lipped smile.
“Some psychic!” Sunny exclaimed. “A real talent, there.”
“Yeah,” said Harriet. “I never thought much of psychics, but when Darnell pulls through this I’d like to get her number.”
“I told Jake not to fret,” Adelaide said, still wrapped up in her story. “I could just scream. I said if Darnell said he felt fine then he was fine! Oh, my Lord. I hope he got here in time.”
The Gamble and the Grave (Veronica Barry Book 4) Page 28