by Brian Shea
Nick froze at hearing the words waiting area. Just three days ago it was Izzy and now here he was again, this time with Anaya.
“Are you okay?” the nurse said, eyeing him with concern.
Nick looked down at his bare feet and realized he must look like a lunatic. “Yeah. Sorry. I just—um… I’ll be right back. Thanks.”
Nick jumped in the car and parked in a spot marked ER Doctors Only. He jogged back to the entrance and entered the warmth of the lobby.
The blue-eyed nurse stood by a large leafy plant and smiled lightly. She held up a pair of light brown hospital socks. “These’ll be better than nothing.”
Nick quickly slipped them on, hopping on one foot for balance.
“Much appreciated,” Nick said gratefully.
The rubber ridges on the bottom of the socks gave Nick some much needed traction as he followed the nurse along the recently buffed floor. She was his Sherpa, guiding him along the uncharted territory of the hospital’s webbed corridors. She brought him into a room with a physical layout much like the one he’d waited in with Declan and Val. Unlike that room, it was crowded and loud. Even amidst the noise and commotion of the other visitors, Nick felt isolated. And for the first time in a very long time, he felt something, an almost foreign sensation. Fear. Palpable, and wholly undeniable.
23
“I don’t know. Still waiting,” Nick said into his phone as he paced around the room.
“That’s the worst part. Anticipation takes its invisible toll. How are you holding up?” Simmons said.
Her voice echoed and Nick noticed a slight delay.
“Do you have me on speaker phone?”
“No. Why?” Simmons asked.
“My end’s got a little echo.”
“I’m in a stairwell. Give me a second, I’m just leaving Spangler’s office,” Simmons said.
“Anything?”
“Yes, but I think it can wait.”
“Bullshit! All I’ve been doing for the last hour is waiting. Give me something to occupy my mind. Something to distract me,” Nick pleaded.
“There was a letter left back at Pine Woods.”
“Letter? What letter?” Nick asked.
A fleeting thought graced his mind that his mother had written him something in one of her more lucid states. Words that would give closure to a soured end. He knew it was wishful at best and discarded the idea before it took root.
“The lawyer left it with the receptionist on his way out. She’d been off shift when things broke bad. She had put it aside and notified us when she came back to work today. I called earlier, but your phone was off. Figured it could wait.”
“What did it say?” Nick asked.
Nick heard a rustle of paper and a pause as Simmons cleared her throat.
“Not sure this is the right time, Nick.”
“Not sure there’s such a thing,” he mumbled. “Just read it.”
“All right. Same format as the one found on Mullins. Cut paper lettering and the like.” Simmons cleared her throat again. “I ended your beginning. Soon you will know mine.”
Nick was silent.
“Nick?”
“Yeah?” Nick was despondent.
“Let’s get this son of a bitch,” Simmons said.
“I’m all in.”
“I never had any doubts,” Simmons said.
“What’s the next step?” Nick asked.
“Well, I’m planning on heading back to Fatty McGee’s humble abode in a little bit,” Simmons said.
Her blow at Scalise’s expense tripped up his train of thought, allowing him to release the tension strangling him. Nick snorted a laugh.
“There’s no way I can leave Anaya tonight. I’ve got to be here for her.”
“I get it, and please trust me when I say I totally understand. I can go it alone tonight. I’ve got my big girl pants on,” Simmons said.
“I don’t like it.”
“What’s not to like? If the Ferryman shows up, I can throw a little reunion party for him. I’ve got a shiny pair of bracelets I’d like to give him,” Simmons jested.
“Take another person with you tonight. I insist,” Nick said.
“I didn’t know you cared,” Simmons gushed mockingly.
“Seriously, take someone from the office.”
“Who? You want me to grab Salazar? A new kid like that would be more likely to shoot me than the bad guy.”
“Let me think for a minute,” Nick said dismissively.
“Anyone you trust enough if something breaks bad?” Simmons asked.
Nick immediately thought of Declan but knew that was out of the question. His next thought was of Izzy and it saddened him profoundly.
“Nick? You still with me?” Simmons asked.
Nick snapped out of his spotty funk. “Yeah, sorry. Kemper Jones. He’s with APD. Solid as they come.”
“The name’s familiar,” Simmons said.
Nick said. “I think you met him on Pentlow’s scene.”
“He’s the one that tipped you off to me? The little birdie that whispered in your ear?”
Nick didn’t answer. Damn she was quick. Cheryl Simmons missed very little.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Simmons said.
“I trust him. And that’s something I don’t say about many people in this world.”
“You’re an interesting guy, Nick Lawrence.”
“How so?”
“An office full of agents, and when asked who you trust, you name a local,” Simmons said.
“You’re not the only one that has a hard time finding a partner,” Nick replied.
Simmons laughed into the phone.
“I’ll send you his number, so you can make arrangements with him. Give me a couple minutes so I can get him up to speed,” Nick requested.
“What you really meant to say is you need a couple minutes, so you can warn him about the crazy redheaded bitch he’s about to spend eight hours with?”
“He’s already afraid of you.” Nick chuckled. “I just need to let him know he’s about to spend the night in a car with you.”
“Sounds more like you’re setting me up on a blind date.”
“If you’re interested, the way to his heart is through a prime cut of smoked brisket,” Nick said.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Do me favor and don’t go getting yourself killed.”
“I’ll do my best. And don’t you go worrying over little ol’ me. You’ve got more than enough on your plate right now. I’ll keep you posted if anything breaks,” Simmons said.
“Watch your six,” Nick said earnestly.
“Will do. I hope everything turns out okay for your girlfriend and the baby,” Simmons said softly.
“Thanks. Me too,” Nick said, ending the call.
The commotion inside the waiting room died down as people departed. There were noisy utterances of their dashed hopes or joyful elations as news of their loved one’s prognoses were delivered. Nick tried to temper his disdain as he waited for an answer. Time sluggishly passed, minutes felt like hours.
A clean-cut man with hair the color of brushed steel entered from a secure door marked Medical Personnel Only. He wore a pearl white lab overcoat over teal scrubs and walked directly toward Nick, bypassing all remaining guests in the waiting room. The man’s eyes, intensely focused, locked on Nick’s. The doctor’s wrinkles etched into the olive skin of his face marked his life’s experiences, equal parts pleasure and pain. Nick held on to the hope that the news soon to be delivered would not fall into the latter category.
“Mr. Lawrence?”
“Yes,” Nick said. He tried to sound confident, but what little reserve he had left in his emotional tank had drained and the effort came out flat.
“Anaya’s going to be all right,” the doctor said.
“What about the baby?” Nick asked, steadying himself for the blow.
“Absolutely fine.”
“Fine? Did you
say fine?” Nick asked.
He’d heard the words, but his mind had already prepared for the worst and therefore didn’t comprehend them. Nick staggered and caught himself by grabbing at the nearby lip of the window sill, almost knocking over a potted plant.
“She had a panic attack, but that was it. She and the baby are all right.”
“What about the stomach pain?” Nick asked, still processing the information.
“Apparently she hadn’t eaten since yesterday. There was some intense cramping caused by some gastrointestinal distress. We put her on an electrolyte drip that will help give a quick boost. Food is already on the way up from the cafeteria.”
“I just thought she—the baby…” Nick trailed off without finishing the words.
“I’m sorry that we kept you waiting as long as we did. We had to run a battery of tests to ensure that everything was all right with both mom and child.”
“Run all the tests you need to. I’m just glad they’re going to be all right,” Nick said, righting himself, his panic quelled.
“It must have been terribly frightening for you. Anaya tells us that this is your first child?” the doctor said, giving him a warm smile.
Nick watched as the creases around the doctor’s eyes became more pronounced.
“Yes, it is. In a week of worsts, this brought me to full blown panic mode,” Nick said.
“Well, let’s not keep you two—correction, you three apart any longer. I’ll take you to her now,” the doctor said.
“Thank you. For everything.”
Nick stayed in stride with the doctor as they moved down the hallway. Nick’s rubber-bottomed socks gave a slight squeak as he kept pace with each step. The silver-haired doctor stopped outside of room 131, the door already open. The doctor stepped aside, tipped his head in a slight bow, and opened his arm as if he were Vanna White revealing the final letter. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
Nick gave the doctor a hearty handshake conveying his appreciation, before turning his attention to his supine Anaya. He crossed the room to her bed in three elongated steps. His large frame cast a long shadow over her petite outline in the bleach-white cotton sheets as he leaned over to place a kiss on her forehead.
“Sorry,” Anaya whispered.
“Baby, you had me so worried,” Nick said through his pressed lips. “Please never do that to me again. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“I was a mess after hearing about your mom. When you didn’t call I freaked out. And then the morning came. I thought of your brother. I don’t know what came over me. I…” Anaya rambled. The monitor adjacent to her bed beeped the slight elevation in her heart rate.
“No. It wasn’t your fault. This one’s all on me. I should’ve called. I should’ve been better about keeping you in the loop. I got focused and lost sight of what’s really important.”
“I know how you get on a case. I should’ve let you be and trusted that you’d handle it.”
“I guess my past track record with you might cause you some concern,” Nick said, tapping the scar on his hip.
“You do have a tendency to get the worst of things.” The yellow specks in Anaya’s dark eyes twinkled as she smiled up at him. “I mean, I don’t know too many people who have survived getting shot, blown up, and stabbed.”
“Maybe people should learn their lesson and realize that it’s a lot harder than it looks to kill me and just give up trying,” Nick said, laughing at his own joke.
As soon as he’d said the words his mind returned to his current predicament. Nick knew the Ferryman would never give up, but took solace in the knowledge that neither would he. Nick took additional comfort in Simmons’s tenacity.
A clang of a cart striking the door frame interrupted their quiet interlude, and the thin black orderly pushing it announced, “Chow time!”
Nick slid the roll-away dinner table over Anaya’s midsection and then adjusted the bed setting, bringing her from a supine position into an upright, seated one. The man slid the tray containing a covered dish and plastic-wrapped utensils. “Bon appetite!” he said before retreating out of the room and down the hallway to his next delivery.
Anaya lifted the blue plastic cover allowing for the trapped steam to escape as beads of condensation trickled out. “Yummy,” she said sarcastically.
“Eat your mystery meat and lima beans so I can get you out of this place,” Nick said playfully, but with an underlying truthfulness.
“Okay.” Anaya gave him an exaggerated pouty smile.
“I’m going to step into the hallway and make a couple calls,” Nick said.
“You’re leaving me?” Anaya asked nervously.
“Not tonight,” Nick said moving for the door. “Not ever.”
Nick saw Anaya giving him a quick once-over, pausing at his shoeless feet and the hospital-issued fashionable footwear. “Nice outfit,” she joked.
Nick laughed, giving a quick strut and turn. His best attempt at a runway model turn was met by the lovely smile of Anaya, the soon-to-be mother of his child. For an infinitesimal amount of time he’d forgotten the dire circumstances they faced and allowed the darkness to be replaced by something else… happiness.
“How’s it going?” Nick asked.
“Good as gold, my friend,” Kemper Jones said. His voice was garbled.
“Are you eating?”
“Of course. It’s a damn stakeout.” Jones paused, swallowing the bite of blackened meat imprisoned in his mouth. “Long nights of sitting by a dumpster in a nasty trailer park go perfectly with a plate of burnt ends.”
Nick heard the detective laying on his thickest West Texas accent for added effect. He knew that is was done for show and probably more so to grind the nerves of Simmons, sitting next to him. “Don’t eat too much. I can’t have you falling asleep out there.”
“Don’t worry about me. This is fuel for my investigative gas tank. You just take care of Anaya and let us handle the grunt work,” Jones said.
“Seriously Kemper, I owe you one,” Nick said.
“For you, anything,” Jones replied.
“Hey, keep me posted if something breaks. I’ll have my phone on me.”
The second call was one he’d been meaning to make since leaving Connecticut but hadn’t had the time or the mental reserve to handle. It only rang once before the other end picked up.
“Hey bro. I’ve been waiting to hear from you,” Declan said.
“I know. Things got crazy out here, and fast.”
“You okay?”
“Have arrangements been made yet?” Nick asked, trying his best to avoid the disastrous combination of the words Izzy and funeral in his dialect.
“Saturday.”
“Shit! That’s less than two days. No way I’m going to be able to make it back,” Nick said, running his free hand through his hair.
“That makes two of us. I’m not going to be able to make it either,” Declan said.
“What? Why?”
“I’m actually heading to Ohio as we speak,” Declan said.
“What’s in Ohio?”
“Some Arian Brotherhood compound in the woods. ATF has got their panties in a bunch about it. They’ve worked up a massive OP plan and HRT is on point. Hopefully, it won’t end up being another Branch Davidian scenario,” Declan said cavalierly. His telling was delivered in the same matter-of-fact manner of somebody talking about picking up eggs at the grocery store.
“That sucks.”
“Won’t be so bad. I heard Ohio is beautiful this time of year.”
“Not that. Izzy. She’ll be alone when they put her in the ground,” Nick said.
“There’ll be family there.”
“But not us.”
“I’ve missed more funerals than I’ve attended in my life and buried more friends than I’d ever care to count. Guys like us say goodbye in a different way,” Declan said.
Nick sighed, relinquishing the guilt. “Agreed. When the dust settles in our lives we�
�ll have our own vigil to send her off properly.”
“Damned straight! I’ll bring the whiskey.” Declan cleared his throat. “Be safe, brother.”
“You too. I’ll see ya when I see ya,” Nick said.
He ended the call. The wall outside Anaya’s room had a slight give to it as he leaned the full weight of his body against it. With Izzy gone forever and Declan unavailable, Nick felt isolated and alone in a battle against an enemy without a face. He was stepping forward into uncharted territory.
Anaya lay peacefully against the raised bed’s mattress, staring contentedly at her empty plate as he reentered the room. The combination of intravenous drip and hospital food reinvigorated her, changing her complexion from the murky paleness of earlier and returning it to her natural muted light brown. Nick looked at her and saw his future. He wouldn’t let anything harm her or their baby.
24
“You have one hell of a surveillance routine,” Simmons said.
The container precariously balanced on Jones’s protruding gut as the Austin detective drove his sauce-covered fingers into the pile of meat.
“You sure you don’t want some? You’re really missing out,” Jones said, holding the charred triangular tip of beef in her direction.
“I’ll pass,” Simmons said, giving a leery eye as Jones methodically licked the sauce from each finger. “You look like a walking crime scene.”
She watched Kemper stop his cat-like cleaning routine to evaluate the variety of red stains decorating his button-down.
“Maybe white isn’t your color,” Simmons jested.
Both laughed, and then Jones returned to finish off his cleanup. A storm door clamored and one of Scalise’s neighbors stepped into the light of their porch. The embers of a cigarette splashed orange across the woman’s face. She looked around, wearily scanning the surrounding pitch black of the night.
“I’ll take first watch. You can sleep off your dinner,” Simmons said.