M.D. Grayson - Danny Logan 05 - Blue Molly

by M. D. Grayson

  “That’s Sokolov, right?” Toni said quietly, looking straight ahead.

  “Yep.”

  “He’s the one you nailed in the bar?”

  “The very same.”

  “Good.”

  We crossed the street and Toni stopped at the pay station to take care of parking while I continued.

  I was twenty feet from the Jeep when she called me back. “Hey, Danny!” she said. “I can’t work this stupid machine.”

  I stopped and gave a little grin, shaking my head. Toni’s one of the smartest people I know, but the pay stations seem to have her number—she can never get them to work. I turned back and started walking toward her.

  I’d taken four or five steps when suddenly, the air seemed to be sucked right out of my lungs at the very instant the sky behind me lit up with a thunderous “boom!” I was literally picked up off the ground and tossed through the air like a leaf in an autumn windstorm, except rather than landing gently on the lawn, I crashed into the side of a parked car and everything immediately went dark.

  Chapter 17

  I’m not sure when I woke up. I don’t recall dreaming—one instant I was walking back to Toni, laughing about her inability to master the pay station. Next instant, the world seemed to explode. Now, I was lying somewhere in the dark, a monstrous ringing in my ears—a ringing that was so loud, it blocked out all other sounds. It’s as if I was in for a hearing check and the technician turned the headphones up loud and then went for coffee or something. Dark and ringing.

  I was lying on my back on the pavement, and I was lucid and able to remember things. This was good. I’ve been on the receiving end of enough head shots to know that most times, the concussion that generally occurs usually includes the loss of short-term memory for a while. This time, apparently, my head had been spared.

  But not my shoulder. I had a shooting pain along my entire right side, especially at my shoulder—my contact point with the car that had interrupted my short flight. To my left, I felt heat.

  The ringing began to subside, and gradually I could hear voices, although they were muted and sounded like they were coming from a room next door—no, they sounded like they were coming from an apartment next door. They were that muffled.

  “Danny!” someone yelled, although I could barely make it out. “Danny!”

  I recognized the voice: Toni. Thank God. Whatever force it was that had knocked me silly had apparently missed her.

  “Danny!”

  After a minute, maybe longer, her voice inspired me to open my eyes a tiny bit. The light was dazzling, but after a bit, my pupils adjusted, and I was able to see. Glancing to my right, I could see a silver Prius with a dented passenger door. I heard approaching sirens—a sign that the ringing was subsiding. I looked to my left and saw a fire, which I found a little confusing. Then I saw Toni. She knelt beside me, her left hand on my arm, and her Glock in her right. Her head was in motion, constantly scanning the area.

  “Don’t move, baby,” she said. “Just lie there.”

  “Not moving.” I took a couple of deep breaths. “Are you okay?”

  “I am. I got knocked down, but I’m fine.”

  “What happened?”

  “Danny, the motherfuckers tried to kill us! They blew up the Jeep!”

  “What?” Despite her advice, I lifted my head and looked. Where my beautiful olive-green Wrangler had been parked, there was now a blazing heap of metal. “Son of a bitch!” I lay back down.

  “Stop moving,” she reminded. “Should I call Miguel?”

  “The police will probably be here soon. Have them do it. Just keep scanning now, but remember to holster your sidearm when they get here—before they see it. They’ll get all freaked out.”

  She nodded. “How do you feel?”

  “I feel like I got shot out of a cannon into the side of a car.”

  “You pretty much did. More specific?”

  I relaxed and took a mental inventory. I was able to wiggle my fingers and toes and flex the muscles in my arms and legs. No paralysis. I was able to breathe. “Am I bleeding anywhere?”

  “You’re a little scraped up, and the right side of your face is swelling like you got punched, but I don’t see any blood on the ground.”

  “Good. I’ve got a bad ringing in my ears. My right side is dinged up—especially my shoulder. It hurts like hell. I can still fight if I have to, but it’ll be weak-handed.” I paused for a second. “All things considered, I’d rather just lie here for a minute.”

  She smiled. “Just lie here, then. I’ll watch.”

  I closed my eyes and relaxed. It seemed like it took longer, but it was probably only a few minutes later that I heard footsteps running up. I opened my eyes on hearing the steps. I must have tensed up, because Toni leaned forward and held me down. “It’s okay. It’s the police. Over here!” she called. “We need an ambulance!”

  * * * *

  “Sokolov was in the park, watching.” I’d just been lifted off the pavement and placed on a gurney by the EMTs in preparation for transport to Harborview. They’d checked my vital signs (all normal) and inspected me from top to bottom to make sure I was stable. Then they said my problems seemed mostly orthopedic, but they went ahead and started an IV for good measure.

  “You didn’t see anything unusual over here by the Jeep?” Miguel asked.

  I tried to shake my head, but the quick movement caused a sharp pain in my shoulder. “No.”

  “I saw Sokolov, too,” Toni said. “He waved. Nobody around the Jeep, though.”

  “Maybe the bastard thought he was waving good-bye for good,” I said.

  “Yeah, well, he almost was,” Miguel said. “Sounds like if Toni hadn’t called you back …” he stopped and rolled his eyes. “Not good.”

  “Not good,” I said. “That’s one way to put it.” I lifted my good arm, and Toni grabbed my hand. “She’s my hero.”

  The fire department had arrived earlier and smothered the remains of the Jeep in foam. I turned my head, slowly, and looked at the sad carcass: charred black, roof melted off, frame dripping foam. “I liked that car.”

  Toni squeezed my hand. “It’s insured.”

  “For bombing?”

  “Don’t worry about that now.”

  “Is Sokolov still in the park now? I can’t turn my head that far.”

  Miguel turned and scanned the area for a few moments. “Not that I can see.”

  I tried to shift my position on the gurney. “Didn’t want to hang around for the show.”

  “Don’t worry,” Miguel said. He looked around. “This parking lot’s probably covered by half a dozen video cameras from surrounding businesses. We’re going to review them, and then we’re going to hammer the bastard who did this.”

  * * * *

  We got to the hospital, and I figured Pri would take care of me. I thought I’d do the usual three-hour emergency room checkup with maybe another couple hours tossed in for X-rays. Five, maybe six hours tops, then I’d be free. Still time to get home, get cleaned up, and make the dinner reservation.

  Things started going bad right away. I spent the whole afternoon getting checked out. First, cardiology (they were impressed with my low heart rate). Then radiology, where they shot me with enough gamma rays to make me glow at night. Then they threw me into an MRI tube for twenty minutes or so before rolling me up to a room. It was getting late, and I was getting worried.

  Finally, at 5:00 p.m., Dr. Manish Kanda, the emergency doctor I’d been seeing, showed up. Pri was with him. She’s the Harborview ER supervising physician, and it was the first time I’d seen her today.

  “Hi, Pri,” I said.

  She smiled. “Hi, Danny. You’re a lucky guy.”

  I smiled. “In more ways than one.”

  She grabbed my hand and shook her head. “You guys worry me, you know? You gotta be more careful.”

  “We try.”

  She smiled again and this time, it didn’t feel right—no sincerity in i
t. She looked at Kanda and nodded.

  “Mr. Logan,” he said. “Close call, eh?”

  “Yeah, it was.” I couldn’t nod—I’d been strapped into a neck brace. “So, how’d I check out?”

  “Well, the good news is that you are very fit. Most impressive. That probably helped you today. Nothing is broken, and there appear to be no internal injuries. The ringing in your ears will most likely subside within a few days. I know your shoulder hurts—you suffered a mild separation. Fortunately, the MRI shows no sign of ligament damage. Your recovery should be swift.”

  “That sounds good.” I looked at Pri, and I saw right away that there was more. “So what’s the bad news?”

  “Well, I’m afraid that given your history of concussions sustained by several blows to the head, we’ve decided that it would be best if we keep you here overnight for observation. Just so we can keep an eye on you.”

  “Oh. Well, sorry. Can’t do that. I’ve got plans. Besides, I don’t think I hit my head.”

  Pri nodded. “Yes, you did. You may not have knocked yourself silly the way it’s happened in the past, but you definitely hit your head. You have contusions all over the side of your face, so I can assure you that you definitely hit your head on something.”

  “He hit the side of a car,” Toni said. “With his head. Dented the hell out of it.”

  “See?” Pri said. “There you are. We’ve consulted with our radiologist. She found no sign of either subdural or epidural hematoma. That’s good—you’re in the clear there. But still, I’m not taking any chances with a potential head injury, especially for someone with your history. You have to spend the night with us so we can keep an eye on you. You can go home tomorrow.”

  I objected, of course. Vehemently. I had plans. But in the end, the decision was made when Toni sided with the docs. This pissed me off a little bit—she knew about everything I’d set up; she was part of it. Yet she didn’t seem all that eager to fight for it. I suppose I could have just said, “To hell with all of you—I’m going home,” but I didn’t. Two reasons: First, there’d be no living with Toni, and that was the opposite of what I’d hoped for on Valentine’s Day in the first place. And second, well, maybe I was just the tiniest bit worried that Pri might be onto something. I felt fine, aside from my shoulder, but with a head injury, who knew? So I stayed.

  Dwayne and Gus showed up a few minutes later, followed by Doc, Kenny, Richard, and Bobby. We already had a full house, so the guys dragged some more chairs in when Miguel and Steve walked in just before 6:00 p.m. The look on Miguel’s face said that he had news, and that it wasn’t good.

  “I’m afraid we struck out with the surveillance videos,” he said.

  “What? No coverage?”

  “No, there was coverage alright. Cameras all over the place. It’s just that there was nothing on any of them.”

  “Really? How could that be?”

  “We got hold of four separate tapes,” Steve said. “All of them mounted on doorways or on the sides of the buildings, and all of them covering the lot. We went through ’em frame by frame. They all agree with each other and together, they make a pretty full picture. You roll up, you leave, you come back. No one else ever approaches the Jeep or the car next to it the whole time it was there.”

  “Well, somebody put a bomb on it,” I said. “It didn’t just spontaneously detonate.”

  Miguel nodded. “Obviously. Whoever set it? They didn’t do it in the parking lot. It was already in place when you drove up and parked. Somebody planted it earlier and triggered it remotely by cell phone.”

  I nodded, stared out the window for a bit, and then it hit me. “That would explain what they were doing last night. They planted it right there in our parking lot.”

  “What happened?” Miguel asked.

  Toni explained about our late-night visitor.

  “Funny thing,” Toni said. “After last night, we decided we were going on offense. We weren’t going to sit around and let Laskin dictate the way the game played out anymore.”

  “Looks like he beat you to the punch,” Dwayne said.

  I nodded. “He did. Guy doesn’t waste much time. But the thing is? He failed. I’m still tickin’. And now I’m pissed.”

  “Damn straight,” Miguel said. “Me, too. This is bullshit. You get out tomorrow, right? What say you rest up over the weekend, then we get together first thing Monday and map out a new strategy. I’m about tired of Laskin making us all look like idiots.”

  “Security question, meanwhile,” Toni said. “I’ll be staying right here with Danny. But I’m wondering if we can get SPD to station a man outside?”

  “Hell, I’ll stay here myself if I have to,” Gus said.

  I smiled. “Thanks, man. Maybe we’d better get someone a little younger, though, in case there’s an actual fight.”

  “Oh, you bastard,” he said, jumping up. “Let me come over there and bust up that other shoulder.”

  * * * *

  I woke up at one thirty in the morning when a nurse came in to check on me. She was quiet and only stayed a minute, then she left. Pri had arranged it so that Toni could stay in my room. She was sleeping on the bed beside me, her holster hanging over the bed rail. Between the two of them, Miguel and Dwayne had prevailed upon SPD to provide a uniformed patrolman who was stationed right outside my door, so I felt safe enough.

  Without a doubt, this was most definitely not the way I’d seen Valentine’s Day playing out. It was supposed to be perfect. Instead, it had turned into a complete and epic mess. But we were still alive, and that’s what really mattered. Laskin had taken a shot at us, and he’d failed. Come Monday, it would be our turn.

  PART THREE

  Chapter 18

  As Pri had promised, just after lunch the next day, the hospital released me with a more or less clean bill of health: clean from the perspective of head injury—there wasn’t any—but still recovering in regard to my shoulder. Doc and Kenny helped Toni retrieve her car (buddy system), then she scooped me up and drove me home. I spent the next day and a half in bed. I got up mostly to eat, go to the bathroom, or to do the shoulder exercises I’d been prescribed. Lazing around like this would normally make me feel really guilty, if not drive me completely crazy. But I had to admit, my condition being what it was, lazing around and getting fussed over by Toni wasn’t a bad way to spend a weekend.

  By the time Monday rolled around, I was feeling pretty good. The ringing in my ears had mostly subsided, and although I was still bruised, the swelling in my face was barely noticeable. Even my shoulder was feeling better—not all the way healed, but better. Of course I couldn’t go running because we were still on the buddy system, and besides, I don’t run on Mondays anyway, but Toni graciously agreed to accompany me on a little walk around the neighborhood. After several days cooped up inside, it felt great to get out and get some fresh Pacific Northwest air.

  We rolled into the office at 8:00 a.m. sharp. At 8:30 a.m., I received a bouquet of get-well flowers from my dad’s law office. At 8:45 a.m., I got another one from the Sylvia Lyon Gallery (I could hear Libby’s accent as I read the card). And at 9:00 a.m., I had yet another surprise when Rico Maroni walked in.

  “Dude,” he said. “What happened to your face?”

  I looked at him with an evil eye. “What do you want?”

  He raised his hands. “Hey, don’t get pissed at me. I don’t want any trouble. I just wanted to talk to Toni.”

  “Well, let’s just see if she wants to talk to you.” I punched in her intercom and put her on speakerphone. It rang twice, then she answered. “Hey,” I said. “You’ll never guess who’s here to see you this fine Monday morning.”

  “I know who’s here; I saw him walk up the stairs. Tell him I don’t want to talk to him.”

  “Well, as it turns out, you’re on speakerphone.” I glanced up at Rico. “He can hear every word you say.”

  The phone line clicked dead.

  “Whoa, dude,” I said. “She said
she didn’t want to talk to you, and it looks like she damn well meant it.”

  “But … but …” he started to say. He never got a chance to finish, because Toni’s door burst open and she came charging out, all in the same motion. She marched right up to Rico.

  “What do you want, Rico?” she demanded. “I’m busy. We’re all busy with important work now. We don’t have time or energy or the inclination to screw around with you.”

  “Well …” he said, meekly, “I wanted to know if you liked my flowers?”

  “No! I didn’t like them. I didn’t ask for them; I didn’t want them. In fact,” she leaned toward him. “I threw ’em away.”

  “Threw ’em … those were … they cost … you threw them away? Really?”

  She gave a curt little nod. “Yes. Tossed ’em straight into the trash. I don’t want them. Listen to me: I’m out of patience now. I’m not open to any kind of romantic proposal or gesture from you. Not now. Not ever. That door is closed. Got it?” She took another step toward him. “And another thing we’re about done with is you following me, you hanging around in the parking lot like a little creep, certainly you sending me flowers. I’ve been nice, and Danny’s been really patient up to now. But after this moment, all that’s over. Don’t come around anymore—don’t let me see you anywhere around me. If we were to even accidentally bump into each other at say, the DMV or something, I’m gonna just assume it’s no accident and that it’s something you’ve planned. Know what I’m going to do if that happens? Even by accident?” She stepped right up to him. He tried to step back, but the sofa blocked him. “I’m going to take you out. And Rico, you know damn well I can do it. So listen: Leave. Me. Alone. Get it?”

  He stared at her for a minute, then he nodded. “But I need your help.”

  She quickly held up her index finger. “No! No, you don’t. What you need to do is you need to march your ass straight on out of here.”

  “Toni, I’m broke! I need a job. I figure I can help you guys out around here. I know things that could be really useful to you.”