Berlin gave a small laugh. “You don’t know that, Jack. We all had roles to play. If anything, the blame rests with me. I’m the detective here, not you. I had the evidence right in front of me and I blew it. I should have seen it. I wasn’t thinking straight. I’ve been all messed up, and I got caught with my pants down. Maybe I wasn’t ready to come back. Maybe it was too soon.”
Jack felt sorry for him. He knew that the detective was right, but he didn’t have the nerve to agree with him. You don’t kick a man while he’s already down. His father had taught him that. But he couldn’t shake the feeling, down in the pit of his stomach, that he was just as guilty. “How’s your partner?”
“Mitch? I’m told that he’ll pull through okay.”
“You haven’t gone to see him?”
“Nah. I came back here as soon as I got tossed off the case and then Clay showed up with his muscle.”
“You should go see him.”
“Yeah,” Berlin paused, and then looked up at Jack with wan eyes. “You’re all right, Jack. It’s been a while since I’ve had a…someone to talk to.”
Jack smiled, then said, “I know the feeling.”
Berlin traced the brim of the glass with his finger. “You got family, Jack?”
“Yeah. Wife and daughter. Daughter’s thirteen.”
Berlin gazed at him. “A teenager? Must be a handful.”
Jack laughed. “Yeah.”
Then Berlin took a good long look at him. His eyes, so ominous, but, honorable and decent. Jack was surprised that he had overlooked them. “You hold them tight, Jack,” Berlin told him. “Never let them go. Don’t let them slip away from you.”
He wasn’t sure how to respond to the comment so Jack simply smiled. But once out of the house, and walking back to his car, he felt somewhat optimistic about the future for the first time in weeks. Was it merely a matter of what the detective said? Or was there something more? Either way, he now knew that he had taken his family for granted. He would have to change that. It couldn’t always be about him. If he kept that up, they’d slip away for good, then he’d be left with nothing.
Just him and his crazy story.
CHAPTER 42
Detective Paul Mitchell lay in the hospital bed at Gardens General hooked up to machines with their incessant beeping that was driving him crazy. He wanted to rip the cords out, but he found solace that it was their way of telling him that he was still alive. They pinged and bonged inside his skull like a pinball machine. All that was missing was the celebratory music when you scored a point.
His side hurt, tender and bandaged, and he was finding it hard to get comfortable in the reclined bed. He’d repositioned himself and had thought that he had it just right, but a twinge would travel up his back.
Mitchell closed his eyes and thought about Berlin. Where was he? What was he up to? Was everything all right?
“Daddy!” A small voice sounded inside the hospital room.
Mitchell opened his eyes to see his six-year-old daughter, Delanna, bounding for the bed. “Hiya, honey.”
“Delanna, be careful!” Jaden cried. “Your daddy’s not well enough just yet. You don’t want to hurt daddy, do you?”
Delanna looked back at her mother. “I’ll be careful, Mommy.”
Mitchell opened his arms and said, “It’s okay. C’mere you.” He pulled her up close to him, wincing slightly. “You’re so heavy! Have you gotten bigger since this morning?”
“Don’t be silly, Daddy.”
“What have you two been up to?”
“Nothin’,” Delanna said.
Jaden came over to the bed, inspecting his condition. “She just finished up school. I thought we’d stop in and see how you were doing. I woulda come as soon as I heard, but I didn’t want to leave her. I didn’t know—”
Mitchell rest his hand on top of hers. “It’s okay, babe. If it was really bad, they woulda told you so.”
“I hope so,” Jaden said.
“How was school, kiddo?” Mitchell asked.
Delanna crept closer and bounced up and down on the bed. “Great! We had show and tell today.”
“Oh, yeah?”
She acted as if nothing was wrong at all. This pleased Mitchell. He didn’t want to worry her. “I haven’t gone yet, but Julie brought her pet goldfish. His name is Sammy.”
“Yeah? Maybe we could get you a pet goldfish,” Mitchell said. “Would you like that?”
She didn’t look like she was keen on the idea.
“Well, you think about it.”
Jaden turned his chin, trying to get some attention of her own. “What have the doctors said?”
“I took it pretty good in my side. I guess when the SUV slammed into us, I got poked.”
Jaden reached out and touched the white bandages that encompassed the top half of his head. “And up here?”
“Just some cuts and bruises. No biggie,” Mitchell said. “I probably look worse than I am.”
“I hope so.” She stepped back and brought a hand up under her chin, her other arm outstretched on her hip. “What happened out there, Paul?”
Mitchell had already tried to remember, but it was all a blur of snapshots and noise. People screaming, the sound of gunfire, then Berlin’s voice. He had missed most of it. All he remembered was when he came to and looked outside at that black SUV was that the front end was busted up and crushed. It was sitting on the hill. It was easy enough to put two and two together. The SUV must have come down the hill and T-boned them.
Was it the same SUV, though?
Mitchell moistened his lips with his tongue so that the words would come out easier. “I can’t really say, babe,” he lied. “I don’t… I don’t remember much. I’m hoping Berl—”
Jaden’s face went dark. “He hasn’t been by? Honestly, I—”
“I’m sure he’ll be ‘round soon enough, Jaden. Maybe I was sleepin’.”
His wife was quiet for a moment as she watched Delanna play with a doll that she must have found in the room somewhere. Scuffmarks littered its body. “Honey, you probably shouldn’t be playin’ with that. Put that away.”
“But I want to!” Delanna said.
Jaden walked over to the window that faced the parking lot and peered outside. Satisfied with whatever she was looking for out there, she turned around and looked at Mitchell with sad eyes. “I don’t like this, Paul. I think you should put in for a transfer.”
“What? What are you talkin’ ‘bout? I only just got into Homicide.”
“I don’t want to lose you, Paul. It could have been serious. Deadly serious. What about Delanna?”
He hadn’t really thought about it since coming into Homicide. He was supposed to be investigating the dead bodies, not becoming one himself. “I’ll be fine,” he told her.
Jaden came back to his side. “You said this would be safer. You’re not supposed to get involved with the mob or whatever.” She pointed a stern finger in his face. “Need I remind you, people are tryin’ to kill you, Paul?”
“I know,” Mitchell said, his head drooping low. “Look, can we discuss this another time? We’ve got Delanna…” He motioned a hand at the daughter who was still playing with the doll, bouncing her up and down near his feet.
“Yeah,” she said, folding her arms in frustration. “Fine.”
“Am I interrupting?” a voice called from the doorway.
Mitchell turned to see his father, standing in the doorway leaning on his cane. “Pop? What are you doin’ here? You shouldn’t be here. Your leg…”
Harry Mitchell, long retired and a veteran, kept himself busy and mobile much to his children’s dismay. Whether it was going to church, fundraisers, or doctor’s appointments, he was always on the move. He crept closer to the bed, with one foot dragging behind the other, his weight and balance alternating with the movement of the cane.
“Oh, quiet now,” Harry said.
“Grandpa!” Delanna said, realizing that Harry had joined them. The doll fell t
o the floor, cast aside like she was nothing, back from where she came.
Jaden moved to a nearby chair and took a seat. She crossed one leg over the other.
“Hiya, kiddo,” Harry said, taking her hug around his waist. He smoothed the hair on the top of her head. “You havin’ a good visit wit yer Daddy?”
“Oh, yes! Daddy was in an accident.”
Harry’s eyes swiveled back to the bed, surveying Mitchell. “Not too bad, I hope?”
“Nah, I’ll be fine, Pop,” Mitchell told him.
“Where’s this mysterious partner of yours? I was hopin’ to meet him.”
“He’s not here, Dad,” Jaden said. “He hasn’t been by to see him at all.”
Harry frowned, pausing, hemming and hawing the situation. “Maybe he got tied up with some paperwork. Yeah, it’s all over the TV, ya know.”
TV? Oh, man. Maybe that’s what was keeping him.
“He’s at that bottle again is what,” Jaden said.
“Jaden, please,” Mitchell stammered. His father was looking at him.
“Jaden, dear, do you mind if I have a private word with my son? I need to sit down anyway and give these old bones a rest.”
Jaden sat up and said, “Oh, of course. Sorry, Dad. I should have offered.”
“It’s fine, dear,” Harry said.
Jaden got up and took her daughter’s hand. “Come along, Delanna. These two need some alone time.”
“Will we see grandpa later?”
“Maybe,” Jaden said. “Come on now. We’ve still got supper to think about.”
“Bye, Daddy!”
Mitchell waved to his daughter just as the door was swinging closed. Harry moved to the chair, resting his cane on the arm.
“So what’s up, Pop?”
Harry crossed his arms in his lap. “Should I be worried?”
“About what?”
Harry waved at the bed. “All this…looks like you got yerself in a pickle. What’s happened, son?”
Mitchell smiled. “Pop, it’s nuthin’. Just a flesh wound.”
Harry gave a hearty laugh. One that Mitchell hadn’t heard in quite a while. “Ha! A flesh wound. They said somethin’ about a SUV trying to run you two off the road. What’s going on, Paul?”
Mitchell’s smile faded. He wouldn’t lie to his father. He couldn’t. Never could. “If I had to guess, I think we ruffled someone’s feathers.”
“You and your partner?”
“Yeah, we picked up a dealer down in Port.”
“Port? What were you doing down there?”
“I dunno, Pop. It was all Berlin’s idea. Next thing I know, he’s down there grabbin’ this punk and we’re haulin’ him back to HQ. That’s when we got slammed.”
Harry nodded, scratching at the stubble on the side of his mouth. “Any idea who was behind it?”
“I have an inkling, yeah,” Mitchell told him.
“What will you do now?”
“Me? Nuthin’. I’m here. Not much I can do from a bed.”
Harry was silent, looking off at the doorway.
“What is it, Pop?” Mitchell asked him.
“I dunno, Paulie. What if they keep comin’ after you? After your partner? I don’t like the idea of him facing his battles alone out there. Never leave a man behind and all that.”
“What are you sayin’? That I should bust outta here?”
Harry shook his head. “I’m not sayin’ anything, son. Only you can make that decision.” He pushed himself up off the chair and, with cane in hand, made his way for the exit. “Anyway, your Ma’s gonna be wonderin’ where I took off to. Looks like a storm’s coming. You take care now.”
Mitchell looked out the window and said, “Yeah. See ya, Pop. I appreciate you comin’ by.”
Harry was right. The sky had suddenly taken a turn. As Mitchell watched the dark clouds roll in, he thought about Berlin and hoped that he was all right. Before long, he’d drift off to sleep, left to dream in the darkness of the hospital room.
CHAPTER 43
Berlin stood and stared at the number 221 labeled on the outside door of the hospital room, his hand pressed on the door handle. Why couldn’t he open it?
Why are you so scared?
It wasn’t your fault, he told himself. You had no way of knowing that they would strike again. Scratch that. That Simmons would strike again.
But still…
Berlin pulled his hand away, reluctant to enter, the inner voice telling him that he was wasting time by being here.
She’s still out there. With him. You need to find her.
No, you’re finished. Done. They’re not going to let you continue.
I don’t need them. I can still do it, he tried to tell himself.
Finally, he gave the door a gentle rap and entered.
Mitchell sat up in his bed, smiling. “I was wonderin’ when you were gonna come by. What’s up?” Mitchell eyed Berlin’s wet attire. “Really comin’ down out there I guess, eh?”
Berlin brushed at his arms, the water seeping into his clothes. “Just a light shower right now. Is this a bad time or…?”
Mitchell shook his head. “No, not at all. The fam’s already been here and gone so—”
“All right.”
Mitchell motioned to the chair by the bed. “You gonna sit down, or what?”
Berlin moved to the chair and took off the wet blazer. “I…I’m sorry, Mitch.”
Mitchell made a face. “You’re sorry? For what?”
“You know.”
“Partner, there ain’t nuthin’ to be sorry ‘bout. We’re a team. What we do, what we go up against, we face together, yeah?”
So many wires and cords, he thought. Look at him. Head covered in bandages, hooked up to these machines.
You did this.
“Berlin?”
Berlin suddenly realized that he hadn’t said anything, and Mitchell was waiting for him. “We shouldn’t have gone into Port, not without at least talking to someone first. I made a mistake, grabbing Antony the way that I did.”
Mitchell considered the statements. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”
Berlin gave a nod and smoothed his pants out, large dark circles spotting his pant legs. “They cut us loose, too. I messed up, man. I feel awful about what happened to you.”
Mitchell sighed and glanced out the window. The rain had already stopped, but Berlin knew that it would be back if the clouds were any indication. “It’s not your fault. That would have happened tonight, anyway.”
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“I got a little bit of info out of Antony before he passed,” Berlin said. “He gave confirmation that it was Simmons that was behind the hit on us.”
“Simmons? What?”
“That’s not all. Clay paid me a personal visit as well.”
Mitchell’s eyes grew wide. “Well, I see that you survived unscathed. I’m still not following, though. How is Simmons involved? Why did Clay come to see you?”
Berlin rested his chin on a hand and began to stroke a finger across his lips. “I don’t know the whole story. But I can hazard a guess, based on what Clay told me.” He paused, thinking it over one last time to make sure that he was going to explain it properly. “Clay says that Simmons and his people, whoever these people might be, were providing protection for him. I’m going to assume that Scott found out. More than likely, through his diligent research, he uncovered the truth. So Simmons kills Scott, and he either tells Clay or he doesn’t. Doesn’t really matter.”
Mitchell listened intently. “Protection, huh? All right.”
Berlin continued, “I think when we paid a visit to Clay in Old Town, it spooked him. Just like I said it would, but it had repercussions. Maybe this is when Clay finds out that Simmons took care of Scott? I don’t know. Somewhere along the line, these two have a falling out. Simmons goes it alone and begins to come after us. He’s probably feeling the heat a little at this point and then, wit
h whatever transpired at the Scott residence, things take a turn. And now what? Now he’s got Lexi, he’s severed ties with Clay, and there’s still us to worry about. That’s a lot of balls to juggle.”
Mitchell kept quiet for a moment, mulling it over. Then he asked, “So who died in the fire?”
“Ah,” Berlin said. “Remember the woman that I was trying to track down earlier?”
“Willis? His alibi?” Mitchell asked.
Berlin nodded.
“Jeez,” Mitchell said, shaking his head. He looked down at the bed covers. “So, now what? Are these two gonna go at it?”
“I got the impression that Clay thinks that Simmons is nothing but a fly. Small potatoes to him.” He paused. “That reporter was hanging around, too, when I met with Clay.”
“What? Why?”
“I dunno, but I turned him away. Made him think that I didn’t care about his story. Clay, too, hopefully.”
“Clay denies everything? Even this condo thing?”
“Yeah, but Clay knows who the reporter is, Mitch. It’s not safe for him if Clay really did make that developer disappear. With Jack out of the picture, it’s one less person who I have to worry about. Clay will move back into the shadows where he belongs. We’ll worry about him when this is all over. I still have a pretty big bargaining chip in my back pocket for when the time comes.”
“It sounds like you have a pretty good handle on things now.”
“I think so, but I need to find Simmons and I need to get to Lexi.”
Mitchell readjusted himself in the bed. Berlin noticed the pain that he was in. “Lexi? Right. I forgot about her. Still no sign of her then?”
“No,” Berlin said. “Simmons has her now, I’m sure of it.”
“You’ve got to find him, partner. Who knows what he’s capable of—”
“I’ll finish it. I know what I have to do.” Berlin stood and picked up his blazer off the arm of the chair. “Any word from Sully?”
“Not on my end,” Mitchell said. “A little weird, don’t you think?”
Eyes of the Dead: A Crime and Suspense Thriller (The Gardens Book 1) Page 23