Always Watching

by LS Sygnet

  “Now,” I rasped. “Let’s get it over with while it’s still fresh in my mind.”

  “Are you sure? We can wait until you’ve had time to stop trembling. You’re shaking like a leaf, baby.”

  Lies can have that effect on people. I could only hope that Johnny’s desire to believe overrode his uncanny ability to see right through me. I freed myself from the prison of his protection and delved into familiar half-truth territory.

  “I was on the phone with David and Saul came in. He told me that Preston told him to come get me. We were on our way through the doors when I heard gunfire. It was instinctive, Johnny. I reacted. I grabbed Saul’s gun and ran for the interrogation room. When I got there, he was standing over Datello with a .38 pointed at him. Danny was bleeding…” I shook my hands, still covered in dried blood. “From his throat.

  “I told Preston to drop his weapon. He turned the gun on me. I shot his knee, thinking that the injury would make him drop the gun. Instead, he fired at me. I shot again, hit his right shoulder, I think. That time, he went down. Saul came back in. I checked Datello. He was alive… barely. Johnny, I promise, I tried to save him. I told Saul to call the paramedics and tried to question Preston.”

  “Did he tell you anything?” Johnny took two steps closer, while I focused on evasion. Couldn’t let his proximity suck the truth out of me. Not again. Not this time.

  “He said he was dead already, Johnny. I tried to get him to tell me if Marcos paid him to kill Danny. He taunted me. I asked if it was Sherman’s crew. He looked scared when I asked that. The paramedics and a whole lot of guards showed up. Saul looked like he was about to hyperventilate, so I brought him in here.”

  “What did he tell you?”

  “He’s in shock. I don’t think he knows what happened. What about Preston?”

  “They think he’ll make it,” Johnny growled. “Of course, he’s telling a very different story. Says Datello confessed to the kidnapping, that he acted alone, that Saul witnessed the spontaneous confession.”

  “You don’t believe that do you?”

  “Hell no,” Johnny said. “I think if Saul heard a confession, he’d have insisted that someone else come witness it, someone in an official capacity, Helen. That means another officer, or Datello’s lawyer, not you.”

  I nodded. “Whatever happened in there, I have no doubt that Preston tricked Saul into leaving him alone with Danny so he could kill him. It makes sense that he looked scared when I asked him if this was done because of Sherman’s crew. Now he’s claiming that Danny confessed to orchestrating Sofia’s kidnapping alone.”

  “That’s not the real kicker,” Johnny said. “Preston says part of Datello’s confession was that Melissa Sherman thought she was proceeding with a legal adoption.”

  I gritted my teeth. “So this was about getting her off the hook for the kidnapping charges.”

  “Well, as things stand, it’s Preston’s word against Saul’s. Considering that he smuggled a weapon into our county jail and shot a prisoner who was shackled and unable to make any credible threat against him, it severely curbs the trust anyone will have in Preston’s statement. I’m sure he’s praying Datello doesn’t survive.”

  “Preston needs to be arrested for this, Johnny. If he slips through the cracks and walks away from the hospital, we’ll never see him again.” I paused, frowned, met Johnny’s gaze. “What did you just say?”

  Johnny’s smile was wan. “Which part?”

  “He’s not dead? Danny was still alive?”

  “Like you said, sweetheart. Barely.” Hands massaged my shoulders. “This is quite the change of heart. You sure it wouldn’t be easier for you if Datello died?”

  From my heart, the answer was an unequivocal yes. My head began to disagree. “Is someone making sure that Preston doesn’t vanish?”

  “Crevan and Dev were following the ambulance.”

  “Good.” I peered up at him. “Dev, huh? Dare I hope that means the two of you made peace this afternoon?”

  “We came to an understanding, namely that I love you and I’m not letting you walk away from this.”

  “Oh really? And what if I decide –”

  His mouth pressed firmly to mine. Lips demanded entry. His tongue mashed softly against mine. “If you decide what?” he whispered.

  “Nothing.”

  “Hmm,” he purred. “Much better.”

  Someone knocked at the door behind us. Johnny cursed, reluctant to let me go. He swung the door open. “Yes, what is it?”

  “Sir, we just got word from Metro State University Hospital. Our vic, that FBI agent, he’s dead.”

  “Great,” Johnny fumed. “That’s just great. I thought he was gonna pull through this thing.”

  “He should’ve sir.”

  “What about Danny?” I asked.

  “No word on him yet, Dr. Eriksson. The paramedics took him away first.”

  I pushed past Johnny. “Let me wash up. Call the hospital and do not let them move that body until we get there. I’ll call Maya and have her meet us over there.”

  “Doc, if he’s dead –”

  “I want to see it for myself this time, thank you. I don’t trust these people to know dead from heavily sedated to appear dead. Two minutes. Meet me out front.”

  Danny Datello’s blood swirled in the sink and disappeared down the drain. Did I have two members of his family’s blood on my hands now? Metaphorically speaking of course. Why hadn’t I been more concerned about Preston’s motives for meeting with Datello alone? Was it because I didn’t really care if the man lived or died?

  A strange fluttering grew in my chest. Empathy again. I thought of Celeste, how a few short hours ago, Dev and I had given her such joy, and now, because of my carelessness, we would have to crush her once again. My lips clamped firmly between my teeth. I will not cry because Danny Datello is dead. I will not do it. He destroyed my life. Whether this was justice or not, I will not cry.

  But had he ruined my life? If there had been no Rick, no money laundering for Sully Marcos, would I be here? I thought about the man probably pacing holes in the asphalt in front of Bay County Correctional. There was no way to fathom my life without ever meeting him. I knew this was true. With each passing day, the bond seemed to grow stronger. Even the will to sever that thing that tethered me to him had faltered easily this morning.

  I had no such qualms about walking away from Rick.

  Then again, I didn’t love my husband.

  Marry me.

  I shuddered at the remembrance of Johnny’s proposal. Would marriage make me hate someone I loved so very much? Let’s face it. My track record is pathetic. Rick didn’t love me either, so I suppose it’s not fair to use my marriage as the justification for turning Johnny’s offer down.

  No, the justification came from something else, something I couldn’t yet identify. It lurked like a shadow within a shadow, dark and elusive, ominous because its nature was not known to me. Even that was cause for alarm.

  I stared into the mirror, my tired eyes, the sagging pockets underneath that betrayed the bone deep fatigue I felt. “Who are you, Helen?” I asked. “More importantly, what is it that Johnny sees when he looks at me that makes him so determined that I commit to something more than what we already have?”

  Johnny appeared behind me. “You’ve been in here longer than two minutes, sweetheart.”

  I stared at the pristine white sink. All evidence of Datello’s life had washed down the drain. “How much of that did you hear?”

  “Enough.”

  “Johnny –”

  “You don’t have to explain. You’re exhausted. This case is draining from a reserve you don’t have right now. It’s been an emotional couple of days, yes?”

  I nodded.

  “And my timing wasn’t perfect. I wanted to ask you in some balmy moonlit hideaway where you’d be so swept off your feet you couldn’t resist the offer.”

  My hands rested on his hips and left wet prints in the
denim. “I’m not resisting. Yet I can’t help asking why you’re so sure that I’m the person you want to be married to, Johnny. I can’t seem to stay out of trouble for more than fifteen minutes. Surely you have enough to worry about without me and my never ending issues.”

  “I love you and your never ending issues.”

  “There’s going to be a shit storm over Preston’s death. It could reopen all of the scrutiny we thought ended after our conversation with David last December. Maybe they’ll think I had something to do with Datello’s shooting too.”

  “We’ve got Maya,” he said. “She’ll put the gun in Preston’s hands scientifically.”

  “I fired a gun too, Johnny. A federal agent is dead because of me.”

  “One who threatened you with his gun.”

  “My word against whose?”

  “Saul’s word too. He saw you shoot Preston. He heard the first shot when neither one of you were in the room with Preston and Datello.”

  “I know how these things get twisted, how something innocent suddenly is damning evidence.” And really, wouldn’t that be wry, if I ended up in prison for a justifiable shooting when the murder I committed was closed as a suicide? The universe is not without a sense of irony, I guess. Or her own twisted version of balancing the scales.

  “Hey, when you said you’d think about this proposal thing, it didn’t include factoring in things that hadn’t happened yet.” Johnny tilted my chin until our eyes met. “Either way, I’m with you through this one, Helen. No doubts. No hesitation. You acted in self defense and the defense of another. Plain and simple. This goes down no other way.”

  “You can’t control the federal government.”

  One eyebrow took a comical arch. “Oh really? I seem to recall wielding an unusual amount of influence a few months ago during a witch hunt. The difference between then and now is that there is no gray area on this one, Doc. Please trust me.”

  I nodded. “Yes,” I breathed out the word softly.

  “Good. I believe that in your heart, you’ve trusted me for a very long time.”

  “I do trust you, but yes. To the other thing.” What can I say? He makes logic and reason and all the things I know rationally to be true, fly right out the window every time he looks at me. It was probably the wrong decision to make, but the way I felt for the past few days, the strength I possessed wasn’t my own. I couldn’t deny that truth either.

  My head rested against his chest. It rose and fell rapidly beneath my cheek.

  “Helen, are you sure?”

  “More than I’ve ever been about anything in my life. I need you, Johnny. Nothing makes sense without you.”

  Johnny shook with sudden laughter. “Helen, this was so not how I imagined this moment. Here we are, standing in the women’s bathroom at the county jail, and I can’t think of anything more perfect.”

  I peeked up at him. “It certainly hasn’t been boring.”

  He kissed the tip of my nose. “I don’t think it ever will be. But.”

  “I’m ready to go finish this thing. This part of it anyway. I have some thoughts on how to proceed with the investigation into Sherman and his associates. I’ve also been thinking about who might’ve been the man that took the Datello baby from Florence Payette at Saint Mary’s.”

  “There’s time for that later. Tonight, we’re stepping back from all of this madness. Ah-ah,” he wiggled and index finger in front of my open mouth. “No arguments this time. You need rest, and food, and more than a little pampering.”

  “Do you have to go back to Montgomery?”

  “Not unless you’re with me. Now let’s get over to Metro State and wrap up one of our many loose ends in this case.”

  “Are you following me over there?”

  “No. Devlin and Crevan brought me over here. I was at OSI when David called me. We dashed over here right away. They knew that I wouldn’t be leaving your side once we arrived.”

  I pulled the keys to the Expedition out of my pocket and pressed them into his hand. “You drive. I’m too wiped out to concentrate on traffic.”

  “Maybe we should have the doctor take a look at you while we’re over there.”

  “I’m fine. All of this sleep deprivation is out of character for me these days. Give me a good solid eight, and I’ll be good as new.”

  Crevan met us outside the emergency room at the hospital. “Dev’s standing guard over the body. CSD is on the way to the jail to process the scene. I just got off the phone with some bureaucrat in D.C.”

  “And?”

  Crevan grinned at Johnny. “They requested that we bump Preston’s autopsy to the front of the line. I told them that it would be the discretion of our chief medical examiner. Other than that, nobody seemed all that surprised that Preston shot someone awaiting trial, or that he’s dead.”

  “Do they know who shot him?” I asked.

  “Well, there was a bit of a pregnant pause when he asked and I told him what I knew,” Crevan said. “He seemed… what’s the word I’m looking for?”

  “Suspicious,” I said.

  Johnny’s, “Surprised,” layered over my take on the reaction and drowned it out.

  “Yes,” Crevan said without clarifying which defined the bureau’s reaction. “When he learned that Preston shot a shackled suspect who couldn’t even lift his arms to his chest, he didn’t seem to find Preston’s dying declaration very credible.”

  “Ah, hell,” I muttered. “Everything he said is now admissible in court, witnessed or not because it was a dying declaration.” For some odd reason, our society doesn’t think that the last words of someone on their way to a grave could possibly be dishonest. The weight given such confessions or utterances is too much, in my opinion.

  “Datello might survive this, Helen, and we’ve still got Saul,” Johnny said. “When he calms down and makes a statement, the whole thing might be moot. That aside, Preston shot himself in the foot, or his honest character, when he tried to murder a man in custody awaiting trial.”

  I ignored that problem for the moment. “Crevan, are you sure that Alfred Preston is really dead?”

  He smiled, reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Your fears aren’t entirely unfounded, given history in this city, but yes, Helen. I’m sure he’s dead. Like I said, Devlin is in there maintaining the scene until Forsythe gets another team over here to process. I spoke to Maya shortly before you arrived. She and Billy are coming to get Preston.”

  “How did he die? That shoulder wound shouldn’t have killed him,” I said. “I don’t understand. Did the emergency room doctor say anything?”

  “Beyond calling time of death? No. We’ll have to wait for Maya to determine what killed him. I’ve seen plenty of shooting victims, Helen, present company included. You bled out more than this guy did.”

  “It makes no sense. He should be alive,” I shook my head, bewildered. “If I’d known he was gonna die anyway, I’d have taken a kill shot. Then this dying declaration business would be moot.”

  Crevan laughed, but Johnny’s eyes reflected a real fear that I suspected was growing in his heart. Maybe he couldn’t yank me off the slippery slope after all.

  “What about Danny?” I asked.

  “Still in emergency surgery,” Crevan said. His amusement faded. His eyebrows drew together. “Danny now, is it?”

  “Crevan, don’t,” Johnny warned with a swift shake of his head.

  My attention drifted away from the judging eyes. “Something feels wrong about this.”

  “What?” Johnny asked.

  “I don’t… I’m not sure.”

  “Helen?”

  I pointed. Men in suits rushed from the emergency department toward the elevators.

  “So?”

  “I’d recognize them anywhere,” I whispered. “Johnny, we’ve got to get upstairs. Where are they working on Danny?”

  His focus sharpened. He and Crevan both pulled their guns immediately, a jarring act that wasn’t withou
t consequences in a hospital emergency department. “Who are they? Is it someone from Marcos’ –”

  “No!” I rasped. “They’re FBI.”

  “Agents you know?” Crevan holstered his weapon. He held his badge up to the hospital security rushing toward us without diverting his attention from my response.

  I shook my head.

  “Then how can you be sure?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Seriously, Crevan? Are you really asking me if I recognize the FBI?”

  “Well, if Preston had back up –”

  “Oh God,” Johnny groaned. “They’re not here about Preston, probably don’t give a damn about him.”

  “They’re after Danny,” I whispered. “Shit!”

  They rushed for the elevator, but I bypassed it in favor of the stairs. Recent history being what it was, I knew exactly where I was going, where Danny Datello would be housed while a surgeon tried to save his life. I took the stairs two at a time.

  When I got to the fifth floor, suits were guarding the stairwell door.

  “Let me through. I’m with OSI.”

  A man overheard my proclamation several feet away and turned. He made a swift motion with one hand. “Let her through.”

  My paranoia spiked again.

  He smiled. “Dr. Helen Eriksson. Clearly you don’t remember me.”

  Recognition tickled the periphery of my consciousness. “Oh my God.”

  “Or perhaps you do.”

  “Special Agent Joel Soule,” I whispered. He was the agent in charge of the investigation into Sully Marcos, newly appointed after Mark Seleeby was removed from the case, from the Washington bureau all together.

  “Surprised to see me?”

  I nodded. “David said the case against Marcos was in the hands of the federal prosecutors.”

  Soule’s eyes tightened marginally. “It is. We’re here on a different matter, Dr. Eriksson.”

  “Helen, please,” I replied automatically. My smooth response didn’t betray the hammering in my chest. What other matter? And why would they be aware that Danny was here an hour after his shooting? For that matter, why would they be interested in him at all?