by T. C. Clover
Cody nodded to Stoney’s partner as the man took hurried steps toward the exit of the emergency room. He shook his head and smiled, thinking that he would never have visited a cop in the hospital three weeks ago.
The athletic man strolled into the outpatient hospital room and saw three of his co-stars standing around a pristine bed where his friend was resting. It would have made the perfect photo for a hospital recovery, except that Mike was seated in a padded chair at the corner of the room wearing a sour expression. CKB moved closer to the bed and saw a smile form on the Japanese man’s face. The criminal smiled back and nodded as a sign of mutual respect.
Stoney was shirtless in the bed, and a clean white blanket covered his legs. There were lengths of gauze wrapped around his chest just above the man’s small beer belly, which met under his armpit with some white medical tape.
“Troy is on his way…to get the bastards,” CKB said as he admired the healthy appearance of his co-star. “I’m glad you made it, brother.”
XVIII. A Mother's Wrath
Stoney had a difficult time adjusting to the new level of pampering and attention provided to him by his co-stars. The Japanese man couldn’t comprehend surviving such a treacherous afternoon on the job. In over ten years as a policeman, he had never remembered a day overshadowed by more darkness. Officer Akuda was further disturbed by the chilling tactics of the gunman that fired upon him in the ransacked apartment. The assassin would have had to follow him for most of the day with discipline and intent, taking his or her time to choose a position and escape route. Stoney mulled over how the would-be killer had chosen a vantage point that leveraged multiple opportunities to take a shot. His abdomen was burning inside with conflict, and he wondered why the shooter had waited until after they breached the apartment. The perpetrator could have made a clean shot before the police executed their infiltration, but for some reason, they chose to be patient.
“Do you want me to get you a pillow for your back?” Jazzy offered the wounded officer with a dazzling smile. “I know your chest must be hurting.”
“No, I’m okay,” Stoney replied with a wave of his right hand, deducing that life had given him enough blessings for one day. “I’m just going to sit down and watch something on TV to get my mind off of the world for a while,” he admitted with a sad expression and began to massage the back of his neck. “But first, I want to change out of this uniform and forget about being a cop for the night.”
“I’ll help you get undressed,” she said with a delighted expression, somehow appearing vindicated that a man had finally opened up to her. “Don’t worry; I’ll be gentle.”
Richard and CKB smirked at one another as they made their way into the kitchen to unwind. The men admired Jazzy’s delicious figure and shook their heads at almost the same moment, expressing a collective mourning for a wasted sensual opportunity.
“Oh, get over it,” Fassim fumed when she noticed that her co-stars wished that Jazzy would undress them instead. “By the time Litz walks in the room, you’ll both forget that Jazzy ever existed.”
Jazzy turned to glance at Richard and CKB as she was helping Stoney back to his bedroom. Her eyes tightened as if she were attempting to singe the men for being shallow, and both of them looked at the floor, pretending to be occupied doing nothing.
“Where is Litz?” Richard inquired and turned his head from left to right, inspecting the loft as if the woman would spring forth from somewhere. “Did she respond to any of your calls or texts?”
Jazzy and Fassim shook their heads and went about their business, showing solidarity in their disdain for the diva. Richard looked at CKB with a curious demeanor, but the muscular man shrugged and began to play with his satellite phone. The conservative film editor glanced at his watch and surmised that they had spent over five hours at the hospital. He gazed at the city through the sliding glass doors of the apartment and saw that the sun was setting.
Richard scratched the back of his head and made his way from the kitchen to the hallway for an inspection of Litz’s bedroom. His senses indicated that something was wrong, which caused him to quicken his pace. When he reached the bedroom, the young man twisted the doorknob and was relieved to feel it open. He pushed the sturdy, white door aside and felt guilty that part of him hoped to catch her undressing.
His mouth opened in horror upon an initial inspection of the disorganized bedroom. Richard saw a large man on his knees next to the headboard of the bed. Someone had tied his hands to the bedpost with black climbing rope. The television star twisted his head to the left in surreal confusion from this unexpected scenario and felt uncomfortable all over. A Hello Kitty tote bag had been used to cover the portly man's head, and the handles were wrapped around his chin, secured to his neck with steel wire.
Richard noticed a camera on the bed that seemed similar to those used by members of the television crew. The restrained man moved his head forward and back underneath the tote bag, which made Richard realize that he had been holding his breath in fear. The conservative film editor exhaled with relief and sprung into action, stepping over obstacles next to the cedar bed and its bright pink bedspread.
There were books all over the floor that covered advanced topics in fields such as engineering, physics, thermodynamics, psychology, and military strategy. Richard felt confounded as to how his co-star had found the time to read so many thick textbooks. Notes and drawings littered the room, and it was clear that Litz had engaged in her studies with devotion. He now understood why his colleague had kept her bedroom locked up like a bank vault during the day.
Richard placed his right hand between the shoulder blades of the overweight man and assumed that it was cameraman Doug. The bound man was wearing a large green T-shirt and blue jeans with cheap white tennis shoes. After a bit of effort, Richard was able to untwist the wire from around the handles of the tote bag, undoing it in neat, wide circles. Once the wire was gone, he removed the pink and black bag and saw the familiar face of Doug. The man was pale and had matted hair stuck to his head, saturated with droplets of sweat. There didn’t seem to be any wounds to the crew member, other than his pride.
“Thank you, Richard,” Doug said in a high tone of voice that was unusual for such a large man. “Litz has gone crazy, man; you guys need to watch out for her!”
“What are you talking about?” Richard protested, recalling how vulnerable the woman had been when he kidnapped her stuffed frog. “Dude, Litz is a pussycat; she can barely keep herself safe in this city.”
“Will you untie me, please? I have to use the bathroom!” The cameraman complained with a smidge more masculinity in his voice. “Look, she brought me in here and tied me up, and told me that you guys need to watch the video.”
“How the hell did she get you in here?” Richard stated with observant rhetoric as he began to unfasten the knots from the bedpost. “You outweigh her by at least a hundred and fifty pounds. There’s no way she could overpower you.”
Doug became silent and looked at the floor as Richard kept working on the knots. He turned his face away, but the television star stopped loosening the rope and put his hands on his hips.
“Okay,” Doug submitted with a nod toward the bonds on his wrists, “she came out into the living room in a bra and panties while I was filming. I felt embarrassed, at first, but she invited me to her bedroom for an ‘amazing experience.’ Then I followed her in here like an idiot, and she asked me to get on my knees near the bed. So I got down-“
“I get the idea,” the conservative man replied as he continued to untie the ropes, “she promised to play a naughty game with you and tied you to the bedpost. That doesn’t show a lot of willpower, Doug.”
“You’re one to talk, garbage banana,” the cameraman hissed back with a hint of jealousy in his bright brown eyes. “I’m sorry. Please don’t stop untying me. Yes, I was filming you guys that night, but Mike made me destroy the disk.”
Richard finished removing the rope and Doug jumped up from the floor in a hurry. The large man ran past him at a speed that was almost unfathomable. After Doug had vacated the area, Richard looked at the camera on the bed and decided to check the recordings from the past few hours. There was the sound of a bathroom door slamming as Doug scrambled to the toilet. Richard felt as if the room was spinning around him, and he could only focus for a moment at a time after so many disturbing revelations. The film editor picked up the camera by its black strap and carried it out of the bedroom toward the living room.
When he entered the living room, Richard saw Stoney lying belly down in gray sweatpants and a white tank top on the sofa. Jazzy had mounted his rear end and was busy giving the man a deep tissue massage. The Republican winced and smirked at the thought that she might be trying to convert the Japanese man from being gay.
CKB stood next to the kitchen counter and was busy making peanut butter sandwiches for himself and Fassim. The paparazzi photographer made eyes at the ripped criminal, but also stole a moment to stare at Richard when he entered the room. She then turned her attention back to CKB and put her left hand on his right bicep, leaning forward to tell him a joke.
Richard noticed that a