The Ring of Fire: The Dragon Dream: Book Two

by Robin Janney

  It was too early to visit his father in the hospital. Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he sat down at the desk in the room and opened his laptop. It didn’t take long for him to log into his home network and open the feed for the camera located in his bedroom back at the ranch.

  Something inside him unwound at the sight of his wife curled up in bed, her arm around his pillow and their dog stretched out beside her. God, he missed Angela. Missed her warmth beside him as they slept, missed how she would roll into his embrace when his arm went over her. The faint scent of roses which followed her as surely as Princess did. The feel of her silky hair when he smoothed it away from her face.

  Lowering his head on his arms, Craig watched her sleep and was comforted. His wife was safest right where she was at. He had to remember that. No matter how lonely he was without her, no matter how worried or how frightened, she was safe and would be there when he returned home.

  The month after her release from St. Joseph’s when his wife had asked to go to her family farm rather than come home with him, had been the longest month of Craig’s life. Longer even than the months she’d been in the coma. He had come so close to giving up, had in fact held his phone in one hand with the intent to call his friend Kevin because his other hand had held a newly purchased handgun.

  And then the phone had rung, the caller ID saying it was the farm he had called perhaps ten minutes earlier to tell his father-in-law he couldn’t come to supper. He almost hadn’t answered, had almost thrown the handset across the room. But he had answered…and it had been this precious woman saying she was coming home. She had made him promise to be there when she arrived, going so far as to demand an answer by using his full name, as if she had known on some level why he’d hesitated to answer her.

  When he realized the implications of her phone call, and the initial irritation had disappeared, he couldn’t get rid of the gun fast enough. Hoping she was also coming back to his bed as well as his home, Craig had hidden the gun in one of the extra bedrooms and then had begun pacing the lower level waiting for her arrival. To the best of his knowledge, she had never found the gun, and he had never told her how close she’d come to becoming a widow.

  Her missing memories of their wedding and their short honeymoon had broken his heart, but perhaps some memories were better off lost. Angela was still the same woman, still the same loving, kind, forgiving woman he had fallen in love with. The only difference was her timidity. She was no longer as bold as she had been before but given much of it had been a smokescreen to hide her fear…he didn’t think it was that much of a change.

  Craig wasn’t sure what time it was when he heard the soft voice of his wife from his laptop. Lifting his head and rubbing the back of his neck tiredly, he saw only an hour had passed since he’d begun watching her. She was patting Princess on the head and sitting up in bed.

  “Oh, honey…go back to sleep,” he whispered. “It’s too early for you to be up.”

  He thought about picking his phone up and calling her to tell her exactly that, but then he’d have to explain how he knew she was up. Would she understand why he watched her when he was away? He didn’t know but didn’t want to risk triggering memories he knew would upset her.

  She was sliding out of bed, their dog barking at her.

  “Oh hush,” his wife said to the dog. He saw her eyes glance at the camera and knew it was wishful thinking to believe she could feel his eyes on her. But something about the smile on her face made him smile in reply.

  Lowering the lid to his laptop, Craig decided to dress and take himself to the hospital. Stopping in the penthouse kitchen, he looked inside the small refrigerator to see if anything had changed overnight. It hadn’t. There was only leftover takeout, and it didn’t look appetizing enough for breakfast.

  He had just begun brewing coffee when his stepmother appeared.

  “Good morning, dear,” she said as she went to the refrigerator and pulled orange juice out. She was still in nightclothes with a silky robe closed tight around her. As his stepmother poured juice into a small clear glass, she continued to speak as if nothing were wrong. “Tell your father good morning for me.”

  “You’re not going to see him?” he asked, his eyes not looking anywhere in her direction.

  “Not until this afternoon,” Veronica replied, sipping from her glass as she brushed long unbound hair away from her face. “He told me in no uncertain terms not to cancel my brunch with the girls this week. Told me I needed a break. As if visiting my husband is a hardship. Still, he was adamant.”

  Craig didn’t know what to say to this. Why was the coffee taking so long to brew? If it had been the kind where he could pour a cup without getting coffee everywhere, he’d have done so and be out the door already. “If you feel that’s the right thing to do.”

  “Of course, I don’t.” She put the juice back in the refrigerator and gave his arm a pat. “But I don’t want to waste your father’s energy by arguing with him. Would you?”

  “No,” he agreed with a small chuckle.

  “How is Angela doing?” Taking her glass, Veronica took a seat at the small kitchen table.

  “She’s fine.” Awake too early, but fine.

  “Oh good. I know how sensitive she is. Have you given any thought to bringing her here for a visit before you go home?” She took another sip of her juice. “I’m sure we could arrange things so it’s easier for her.”

  “Not yet.” And this was taking too long. Turning the coffee pot off, Craig waited just a moment before pouring himself a cup. Sugar and creamer went into the dark brew and he all but chugged the too hot and too bitter drink.

  “That’s too bad,” his stepmother was saying. “She seems like a nice girl. It would be nice to get to know her better. Your father would agree with that. She is family, after all.”

  “If Dad’s still in the hospital by mid-July, I’m bringing her out here.” He poured the rest of the coffee down the drain and rinsed the cup out. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Of course.”

  Only once he was out of the penthouse, and alone in the descending elevator, did Craig manage to relax again. Not for the first time, he considered getting a hotel room. But it would be a pain in the ass when his father came home to be going back and forth. He’d be alright here on his own with Veronica until his father came back home.

  L es Moore looked out the window of his private hospital room. He was alone for the moment and the only sounds were the semi-quiet sounds of nurses passing in the hallway.

  He shifted in his bed, disgusted that he felt nothing below the dull ache in his lower back. It had been just over two weeks since the shooting, and while the doctors all told him it was too early to tell whether the paralysis was permanent, he thought he’d have been able to feel something by now.

  At least they’d backed off on the pain drugs. He needed his mind to be sharp right now. And he wanted out of here, wanted to go back to the penthouse he called home. If for no other reason than his son’s peace of mind. Besides, the drugs were pointless as there was no pain to be medicated.

  Although he’d never admit it, Craig was nervous about being in the penthouse alone with Veronica. Les could see it when his son prepared to leave at night and in the sleepless strain on his face the next day. The sooner Les could get home, the better he’d feel.

  A knock on the door caused him to turn his head. He managed a small smile for his son as the other entered, his eyes downcast and tired.

  “Good morning, Craig,” he said.

  “Morning, Dad.” The younger man sat in the folding chair at the side of the bed, placing one of the Starbuck’s cups he carried on his father’s bedside table; the other he kept in his hand. The smell of hot coffee teased Les’ senses. “This one’s for you.”

  “Thank you.” He smiled widely at his son and wasted no time in tasting the milky sweet liquid. Like father like son. It was one of a few similarities between the two. “Perfect.”

  “No problem. Veronica s
aid she’d be in this afternoon after her brunch with her girlfriends.”

  Les didn’t smile at the disapproval in Craig’s tone. He had wanted some time alone with his son and hadn’t hesitated to encourage his wife to get back to her usual schedule. “I’m glad she took my advice. Just because I’ve been injured is no reason for your lives to stop. Are you going to have Angela fly out while you’re here? I’d love to see her.”

  “Not yet,” deflected Craig. “Has the doctor been to see you yet?”

  “Not yet,” Les answered, resting his cup on the tray table and letting his son change the subject. “I’m hoping she’ll have a better idea of when I can come home. I’m getting tired of hospital food.”

  “I can sneak some bagels in with your coffee tomorrow,” suggested Craig.

  Les chuckled. “That would be welcome. With extra cream cheese.”

  “I can do that.” Craig leaned back in his seat. “Don’t rush this, Dad. You need time to heal.”

  “I feel good,” said Les confidently. He probably felt better than he should have. “I can finish healing at home. It’ll take some time to change things around, I understand that. If things don’t progress, looking for a different penthouse wouldn’t be that difficult. Hell, I probably ought to do that no matter what. We haven’t needed so many bedrooms since you and Tim moved out.”

  Craig was silent at the mention of his brother.

  “Granted,” Les conceded. “Your brother was convicted of rape and homicide and moved to prison. And you moved to the middle of nowhere, which seems to have turned out fine for you. You should go out and see your brother while you’re here.”

  “I will. Just not right now.”

  Les downed some coffee. “Your brother will never tell you this, but he doesn’t regret taking the abuse for you. He believed he was stronger and would be able to handle it, even though he was the one who ended up combusting. He didn’t want that for you.”

  Craig was silent for a moment, drinking from his own disposable cup. “Do you really love her Dad?”

  Sighing, Les looked out the window again. “Not like your mother, and certainly not like I did when I first married her, but yes. An affection at least. Things have changed since her confession, but so long as I see her trying to overcome her issues, I feel compelled to stay with her. Had I found out earlier, while you were still boys, there would have been no hesitation. I’m not sure if that comforts you at all.”

  “A little.” Craig shrugged, his eyes avoiding his father’s as he downed more of his own coffee.

  “Have the two of you been getting things moved around at home?”

  “Some. We’re not sure whether to give you Tim’s old bedroom or try fitting everything into your room. There’s not enough room for your bed and the hospital bed you ordered.”

  Les nodded and turned his gaze back to his son. “Just move me into Tim’s old room. And order the wheelchair.”

  “Dad, come on.”

  “I’m serious, Craig. Look, I’m not giving up. I plan on following all the doctor’s orders and going to therapy and seeing if I won’t walk again. But until then, there’s no point in being anything but practical.”

  “Practical.” Craig repeated the word as though it were a new concept to him. “How can you be so calm about this?”

  “What other choice do I have?” Les shook his head in disgust. “I do what I have to, just like any other man. I don’t have time to be angry or depressed. Maybe later, in the privacy of my own home.”

  Craig processed what his father was saying, or tried to.

  There was a knock at the door, and both men looked towards it.

  B oth were tall; one a stark white male while the other was a darker female, probably Hispanic. The man was the shorter of the two, and where his partner was slim and whip-like, he was not. Looking at the woman, Craig was reminded of Trooper Stevens from back home. He wasn’t sure what it was about the slim woman reminded him of the other, there were no physical similarities other than gender. The two women weren’t even the same skin tone. He was also sure this woman was going to be the one to lead the conversation.

  “Detectives, come in,” said Les. He took another sip from his coffee as they did so. “I was wondering when the police were going to visit me. I haven’t seen the two of you since the Hammerstein case.”

  “We’ve been busy,” the woman replied. “Lucky enough to land your shooting though.”

  “You have rotten luck then,” replied Les. “Have you met my son yet?”

  “No,” she replied. “We’ve been busy.”

  Les nodded, and Craig wondered briefly what leads they had been following. If any. Why hadn’t he seen them before now? “Craig, this is Detective Leila Rodriguez and her partner Leon Stafford. Both work for the police and crime lab. Detectives, my youngest son Craig.”

  Craig nodded in greeting. For a moment his mind wandered back to the disagreement he’d had with his wife while he’d packed, and she’d told him how she would watch the New York version of CSI while he was here. These two didn’t have the Hollywood polish on them, but he could see them fitting in. How could Angela bear to watch graphic shows like that?

  “So, what have you two found so far?” his father asked the detectives.

  “Not much,” admitted Leila, with a shrug of her shoulders. She came to a stop at the foot of the hospital bed. Her gaze was on Les, even as her partner’s eyes canvassed the room. “Bullets were a standard 9mm, and they didn’t ping for any other case. This was the first crime this gun was used in.”

  “Have you found the gun yet?”

  “Negative. Other than Silva, what cases are you working on right now? Your partners wouldn’t share.”

  Les chuckled and sipped coffee before speaking. “No, they wouldn’t. I have a light load right now. Dan Silva has been taking up most of my time. The evidence is circumstantial at best and believe me, I’ll take full advantage of the departments’ failure to stick to procedure.”

  The female cop was looking at Les with her head tilted. “Failure to stick to procedure, huh? That’s your defense?”

  “Not even close,” the injured man replied, his expression cheeky. “But you’re not here about Silva. I highly doubt my own client would arrange a shooting with him as the target.”

  “We’re not sure…” Stafford cut off at a sharp glance from his partner. “Still, Silva can’t be taking up all your time and we have to pursue all possibilities. You know the drill.”

  Les gave a small sigh. “I’m also working a pro bono case. Emily Anderson. I don’t have her contact information on me, but I’ll call Eddie and authorize him to make it available to you.”

  Stafford scribbled the name down in his notepad.

  “I don’t think you’ll find a connection there,” continued Les. “It’s a pretty cut and dried custody case.”

  “Let us decide that,” advised Leila. She smiled knowingly. “Custody cases are seldom cut and dried.”

  Les shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  Craig watched as the detectives and his father bantered back and forth for another five minutes before the detectives took their leave. It was clearly not the first time they’d had a conversation, and the trio alternated between sounding friendly and antagonistic.

  His dad defending Dan Silva, he expected. Dan was a high-profile business executive, possible mob ties. But the other was a surprise. Once the detectives left, Craig turned to his father and asked, “When did you start doing custody cases? I thought you were criminal defense.”

  The older man shrugged again. “I started taking the odd pro bono case about two years ago. Mostly custody, although there are a few random petty crimes. Last month it was defending a tenant from allegedly killing his landlord’s dog.”

  Craig shook his head. Was his father getting soft with old age? Something about the change comforted him. “You amaze me, Dad.”

  His father just smiled and finished his coffee.

  19

  H o
urs later, the afternoon sun beat on Craig as he walked the city streets. It felt more like mid-summer to him, but then he was more accustomed to Montana weather. His weather app on his phone told him the afternoon temperature at home was about ten degrees cooler than the City. But then, weren’t cities always warmer than country settings?

  He paid as much attention to his surroundings as he needed to, but beyond that he didn’t care where he was going or how fast he was getting there. He had no real destination in mind, he just needed to walk.

  Had he been home, what would he have done?

  Most likely he would have found his wife wherever she was and just let her presence sooth him. He thought of arranging a flight for Angela. His fingers twitched toward the pocket holding his phone at the thought. But Veronica’s tone of voice this morning when she’d been asking about his wife came back to mind, making sure to bring up how sensitive Angela was. He had to protect his wife from what he could, no matter how much this brief separation was hurting them both.

  Someone bumped into Craig, and he apologized even as he checked the pockets holding his wallet and smartphone. One could never be too careful.

  “Leo?” a male voice called from farther up the street.

  It wasn’t the name that drew Craig’s attention, but rather the voice. He knew that voice.

  “Hot damn! It is you!” the short pudgy man declared as he ran up to Craig.

  “Mikey?” Craig asked in wonder.

  The shorter man laughed as he gave Craig a quick bro hug. “I haven’t been called Mikey since high school graduation!”

  “About as long since I’ve been called Leo,” replied Craig with a laugh. “How have you been?”

  “Some days are better than others,” the other man replied. “I don’t suppose you could just call me Mike?”

  “I make no promises. Old habits die hard.”

  “Good enough. I have a few minutes, want to step into a coffee shop and catch up?”

  “Yeah.” Craig turned in his travels and followed his friend from high school to the nearest coffee shop. Talk was light as they ordered their coffee and pastries. Finding a table near the windows, Craig bit into his blueberry scone and thought again of his wife. Angela’s homemade scones were much better; everything she made was either blueberry or chocolate. And a random strawberry dessert every so often. He loved her blueberry pies the most, for reasons that had little to do with how much he liked blueberries.