A Dead Daughter (Jessica Huntington Desert Cities Mystery Book 3)

by Anna Burke

  “Hang on a minute, will you Brien?” Jessica asked. “We knew someone was here at the hospital with a gun or another weapon. Laura filled us in on what a Code Silver means. What makes you think that has anything to do with me?” Jessica asked.

  “Well, that’s because the ‘ruckus,’ as you called it, involved your friend in the ICU, Ms. Huntington.” So, it’s back to “Ms. Huntington” with Detective Hernandez, too.

  “Libby is, um, not a friend, Detective Hernandez,” Jessica said, correcting the man. She tried for a second to figure out what she was—not a client, not a friend, what? She gave up. “Is she okay?”

  “She is, Jessica. But it was a close call,” Frank said, answering the question before Detective Hernandez could respond.

  “We were on our way to see how you were doing, Jessica, when we dropped by the ICU. We thought you might have some questions about Libby’s condition, so we stopped in there first,” Uncle Don said, pausing for a second, perhaps not sure how much he should say with so many people in the room. Detective Hernandez nodded, urging him to go on.

  “The nurse on the ward said Libby was doing okay and let us see for ourselves. When we stepped back out into the hallway from her room, a fire alarm went off.”

  “We heard that, but it didn’t sound close enough to be concerned about,” Laura said.

  “A diversion, I imagine,” Frank said.

  “Frank and I didn't know that then,” Don added. “We took a quick look around trying to figure out if the problem was nearby. The alarm sounded like it was in the same wing, but we didn’t smell smoke or see fire. People were rushing to the central nurses’ station to ask what was going on. We headed that way, too. Out of the corner of my eye I saw somebody go into Libby Van Der Woert’s room. I just glimpsed him. He was in scrubs but something about him struck me as odd. Maybe the way he looked around before he stepped into the room. Something about him was just ‘off’.”

  “When Dad said he saw someone go into Libby's room, I figured it was a member of the medical staff making the rounds. You know, checking on patients in the ICU disturbed by the sound of that alarm? Or maybe someone charged with getting Libby out of the building in an emergency situation like a fire. Dad’s got good instincts, though, so when he said he was suspicious we went back in there. When we entered the room he was about to add something to the IV bag with a syringe, and startled when he spotted us. I knew that wasn’t good. I told him to step away from the bag. Before I could get to my gun he pulled out one of his own. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to scare us off or if he intended to shoot Libby. I gave the nurse’s cart in the room a shove and that banged into him. He fired a shot. I grabbed for him as I pushed Dad to the floor. I was off balance and went down, too, when the jerk slammed that table into me.”

  “Thanks a lot for knocking me to the floor like that, Son.” Don did not sound thankful. “We had left the door to the room open behind us so the perp scooted past us and out the door. He still had that gun, I guess, although he dropped the syringe. Someone called in the incident and that Code Silver went out right away.”

  “We sent a nurse to check on Libby,” Frank said, picking up the story. “Then we took off in pursuit of the gunman. Security was after him, too, by that point. Your guys either spotted that gun or were responding to the report of shots fired,” Frank said, speaking to their supervisor. “They were on the ball.” He must have been relieved to hear Frank say that because he let out a big breath.

  “That guy with the gun was fast. He was down the stairs and out an emergency exit. The code was sounding and more alarms were going off. Detective Hernandez, or someone else, can better describe what happened outside the hospital. We weren’t far behind him, but by the time we got out the door, the perp had grabbed a car and taken off in it. There was already a police presence, I guess responding to the fire alarm. A couple patrol cars sped off after the shooter.”

  “That’s right, and a helicopter picked up the chase after that,” Detective Hernandez said. “More police headed to the hospital as soon as the call went out that shots were fired. I talked to Fire and Rescue and it was two or three minutes after the fire alarm went off that the first patrol cars arrived. The ones you saw, Frank. I got here a few minutes after that. I was already on the move when I got word that the trouble had started in the ICU and Ms. Huntington might be in danger. Several patrol cars gave chase, but the guy was moving fast. With the helicopter up, no way was he going to get away. The plan was to cut him off before he could get on the freeway. Then he blew a tire or hit something in the road and lost control. The car flipped over and burned up, close to the intersection with Ramon Road.”

  “It all happened fast, Chica. The news got out lickety-splickety...” Bernadette said, scooting closer to Jessica’s bedside. “My phone was ringin’ and pingin’. I knew it was too much of a coincidence there was a fire at the hospital while you were here. I called Detective Hernandez and told him not to let some bastardo get to you.”

  “Bernadette knows all about my super powerful calamity magnetism,” Jessica said to those in the room.

  “I didn’t need Bernadette to tell me you might be in danger,” Hernandez growled. “As soon as Frank and Don Fontana realized the guy was after Libby they called it in. When I called to check on you I found out that staff had seen two suspicious-looking guys—one over-sized—in the corridor near your room, accompanied by a woman covered with strange tattoos.”

  “One tattoo and it’s not strange,” Kim said, despite her usual shyness, especially in a crowd. They were the first words she had uttered since they had all taken refuge in the bathroom. Hernandez ignored the comment.

  “I prefer to think of myself as right-sized, and Kim’s tattoo is a work of art, Hernandez,” Peter added.

  “Yeah, that tattoo is righteous,” Brien added, to the annoyance of Detective Hernandez.

  “I guess I should have realized you were in no danger when they said one guy was eating. What kind of bad guys eat on their way to take out a target?” said Detective Hernandez.

  “Speaking of eating, I’m hungry. You guys hungry?” Brien asked.

  “Not now, Brien, please,” Jessica implored.

  “Anyway, when Frank and Don couldn’t get you to answer the door, we all made a beeline for you. Since none of the members of your entourage wasted any time getting this place locked down, what do they know that we don’t?”

  “Hey, wait a second. We were just following hospital procedure, Detective,” Laura responded. It was her turn to get annoyed.

  “And is it hospital procedure for Ms. Huntington to be throwing a party in her hospital room?” he asked, glowering at them.

  “It wasn’t a party, or they would have invited Jerry and me,” Tommy said. “Isn’t that true, Jessica?”

  “Yes, that’s true, Tommy.” Jessica smiled feebly. Her head hurt again as well as her ribs. She felt exhausted by all of the turmoil and distressed by that attempt on Libby’s life.

  “Look, I’d be happy to answer your questions, Detective Hernandez. I don’t know what’s going on any better than you do, but let’s talk things over. Not now, but soon. I don’t feel so well, at the moment. I... ” Nurse Andrews cut her off.

  “You don’t feel well? How could you? There’s a reason we haven’t been feeding you greasy burgers and fries... and coffee,” she tsked-tsked as she bent down and picked up the empty Styrofoam coffee cup that had landed on the floor near Jessica’s bed.

  “As soon as I get home and settled, I’ll be happy to hear all your questions. I’ll even try to answer them. If you can figure out what’s going on, in the meantime, that’s great. I’m not the least bit happy about the idea that somebody wants Libby dead. It can’t be Carr because he’s already dead. My head hurts too much to think straight, much less figure any of this out. Nurse Andrews, Doc, you all will send me home soon, right?” Nurse Andrews had that pressed lip thing going on. No way could any words escape the slash that passed for a mouth on her face.
Jessica’s doctor, who was still in the room, spoke up.

  “Barring any unforeseen developments, I expect to release you tomorrow, Jessica.” He spoke those words with a tone of relief, glad to be rid of her, no doubt. Jessica found that irksome, but at least her attending physician addressed her by her first name.

  “Oh, Jessica, that’s wonderful news,” Bernadette said, glaring at Nurse Andrews. “We can take good care of you, and you won’t have to starve. Peter and his guards will get back on the job so no guy can sneak in and shoot at you.”

  “Yes, I agree, Bernadette. This is unacceptable that my daughter is put at risk by a gunman roaming the halls, and you chew her out for eating a burger. Maybe we should take her out of here now, and move her to another hospital while she’s still alive. You realize she’s a lawyer, right? If she sues you for the trauma she’s gone through today, I wouldn’t blame her.” Jessica’s mouth fell open as her mother spoke. Alexis was furious, her shoulders back, arms tight against her body, and fists clenched. Her mother’s whole body shook.

  You go, Mom, Jessica wanted to say, but did not. Instead, she reached out and grasped her mother’s hand. Alexis startled, for a second, at Jessica’s touch. Recovering, she laced her fingers through her daughter’s and returned Jessica’s smile.

  “I don’t think we need to do anything rash,” Hank said. The twinkle in his eyes betrayed the fact he was thoroughly enjoying Alexis’ outburst. “However, Jessica’s mother has made very good points. The Van Der Woerts must have a lot of questions about how this happened, too, and I’m sure you'll have answers for all of us once you've completed a formal investigation. Why don’t we clear out of here and let Jessica get some rest? It sounds like Jessica will go home tomorrow, Alexis. I’m sure Nurse Andrews and the rest of the hospital staff are mortified by the breach that occurred today, and will have someone apologize before they send Jessica on her way. As for you, Detective Hernandez, I must ask you to use a more professional tone with my daughter.” Detective Hernandez, taken aback, was speechless. Another first for the day.

  “Aw, he doesn’t mean nothing by it, Hank. That’s just his tough cop talk. He likes Jessica—a lot. He’s not so good at showing it, right Detective?” Bernadette asked. Hernandez was not just speechless, but he flushed bright red. Jessica could not tell whether that was from embarrassment or anger.

  “You’ll hear from me day after tomorrow, Ms. Huntington. Get settled in, because we need to have a long talk.” With that, he turned on his heels and marched out of the room. The rest of the crowd drifted away, with a “sorry” tossed here and there.

  Jessica doubted she would get anything like an official apology for the scare. At least not until the hospital legal team had come up with wording that acknowledged the inconvenience without assuming responsibility for the incident. Nurse Andrews, the last of the staff members to leave, did not say another word.

  “Frank, Uncle Don, thank you both. If you hadn’t acted as you did, who knows what might have happened—to Libby or me.” Uncle Don moved close enough to Jessica to speak in a quiet voice.

  “We can’t let anything happen to you, Jessica. It would break this old man’s heart and I’d hate to think what it would do to my boy here.” Both father and son stood with matching expressions on their sweet faces. She could see where Frank had inherited that tenderness that gave his brown eyes such depth.

  “I won't break your hearts, promise.” As she spoke, Jessica prayed she could keep that promise.

  12 An Intervention

  It wasn’t clear who was happier about Jessica being released from the hospital: Jessica herself, her friends and family, or the hospital staff. After that incident with the gunman in the ICU, they beefed up security. The hospital authorities posted guards, round the clock, outside the rooms occupied by Jessica and Libby. That cost a bundle and couldn't have been reassuring to visitors who had family members or friends in the hospital nearby. They let her go home Wednesday afternoon.

  Once she was home, Jessica felt much better. The beauty of the desert worked its magic as Jessica reclined on a patio chaise. A gentle breeze swirled around her, carrying with it the sweet scent of jasmine. A light snow on the surrounding mountains glistened as the sun settled on their peaks, bathing the golf course in a golden, late afternoon glow.

  Paradise beckoned, although something was up and nobody was talking. Jessica wished she had Bernadette’s gift for picking up stray thoughts, or making sense out of body language. There were more people in the house than there had been in months and yet the silence was deafening. Bernadette scurried about, her Dad had a lap full of papers, and Alexis sat pretending to read a magazine.

  Her mother was thin and drawn, showing her age in a way Jessica had not noticed before. Distant, too, maybe preoccupied by the events of the past few days. Her fourth marriage is on the rocks and her daughter has escaped death twice in the past week, what did I expect? Jessica mused as she eyed her mother who smiled warmly.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay,” Alexis said, looking for a moment like she might cry. Then Alexis seemed to fade away into her own world. Not long after, she excused herself and retreated to her wing of the estate. She left that magazine on the chair as though she was coming right back.

  It was another déjà vu moment as Jessica, Bernadette, and her father watched the woman drift off to the patio entrance that led back into her suite. Jessica caught a glance that passed between Bernadette and her father. Just like old times, Jessica thought, recalling how often a scene like this one had played out before her parents divorced. Perhaps it was the way her mother coped—divorcing everyone in her life for a time when she got rid of a husband. Jessica didn’t understand or like it now any more than she had at twelve.

  “I better check on dinner,” Bernadette said, heading for the doors leading into the kitchen. Not before taking a nervous glance at the retreating figure of Jessica’s mother. The sound of the screen doors closing as Bernadette ducked inside echoed the sound made as her mother entered her suite.

  Hank stayed put. Their conversation was amiable even though he remained distracted. That could have something to do with the number of projects he had going and the backlog of tasks amassing, despite efforts to stay on top of the work from a distance. Jessica asked him to bring her up to date on his work. His enthusiasm grew as he spoke. Sitting with her father, talking about his work as an architect and developer, set off another round of “been-there-done-that” moments. As her mother withdrew, her father worked harder. Was that the pattern setting off eerie twilight zone music in her head?

  “I’m glad you’re home, safe and sound, Jinx. Think you’ll be okay if I head back to work tomorrow?”

  “Sure, Dad, I’ve got Bernadette and Mom to help me out. If they can’t handle it, I can always call Laura or Tommy. So, don’t worry.”

  “I am worried. What about that trouble at the hospital?”

  “Peter's on top of it. We’re covered round-the-clock. They won’t let anyone get near me even if they get through the gate. The police are on it, too. Detective Hernandez and his counterparts at the Palm Springs police department are as eager as we are to sort this out.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. I couldn’t quite get what’s up with that Hernandez guy.”

  “Bernadette’s got his number. He’s a marshmallow covered in a crusty coating of grumpy cop. Sort of like Uncle Don, you know? We don’t always see eye-to-eye, and I don’t always like the way he expresses himself, but he’s gruff because he cares. My track record isn’t that great, knowing when to cool it. And, I’m a sucker for incremental commitment—in for a penny, in for a pound. Before you know it, I’m in way over my head. The cops in my life keep me on a short leash, Dad.”

  “I guess that’s part of what I’m concerned about. You sure have had some close calls, Jessica. Maybe I should call and thank them for harping at you. I’m with them about cooling it.”

  “Yeah, Dad, I know. But I hate it when something’s going on and I ca
n’t figure out what it is. It’s like an itch and I get this compulsion to get to the bottom of it. I admit it. I stirred things up trying to find out who killed Roger Stone and Kelly Fontana.”

  “Going after Libby in the hospital seems daring and desperate. Your detective friend implied you know more about this than you've said. Is that true? Are you keeping things from him?”

  “Detective Hernandez always assumes the worst. The short answer is no, at least I don’t think so. I can’t tell you all that’s going on, Dad, because I just don’t know. We have been doing some investigating—just routine checks on Libby Van Der Woert and her doctor. She’s in trouble involving her dead psychiatrist and a friend of hers that’s gone missing. That’s how Detective Hernandez got mixed up in this—he’s looking for her missing friend. Maybe it will all make more sense after I’ve spoken to Detective Hernandez. I owe statements to the Palm Springs police, too, but I’ve told Frank Fontana the whole story. I’m sure if he thought I had vital information that could solve the case—cases—in Cathedral City or Palm Springs, his colleagues would have been at me already. For now, I'm out to sea with a boatload of puzzle pieces and no clear idea of the picture I'm trying to assemble. I’m not even sure I know yet what mysteries need to be solved. Why is everything always so complicated?”

  “Hey, if I knew the answer to that I’d be a helluva lot richer than I am, Jinx! You have to be careful until they figure this out. Libby’s in deep trouble if someone wants her dead bad enough to go after her in the hospital in broad daylight. You may have some boundary issues dealing with other people’s problems.” He wore that lopsided grin of his. A twinkle in his eye told her he was trying to make light of his concern.

  “Oh my God, Dad, have you been watching Dr. Phil? Can’t be Oprah, she’s not on TV anymore.”

  “What makes you think I haven’t spent a little time of my own with a shrink? I’ll have you know I’ve spent big bucks, just like you, to get better boundaries.” Even though he seemed to be taking what she said in stride, Jessica recognized worry when she saw it.