Sami realized that the doctor, standing frozen, hadn’t yet noticed her. He seemed so preoccupied with Al that he paid little attention to anything else. Al, thank God, was beginning to stir. He grasped the back of his head, turned over, and sat upright, resting his back against the door.
Sami noticed a piece of silver pipe lying on the floor next to the doctor’s foot, and quickly figured out what had happened. Holding her Glock with both hands, arms extended, elbows locked, she pointed the gun at Doctor Youngblood. “Drop your weapon, Doctor, and get on your knees with your hands behind your head.”
Before the last word slipped off Sami’s tongue, the doctor immediately reacted and aimed the handgun at the center of Al’s chest. “Don’t come any closer,” he warned.
“Are you okay, Al?” Sami yelled.
“I will be when we cuff this asshole.”
Al’s comment eased her frazzled nerves. After all, if Al was seriously injured, would he make such a flippant statement?
“I’m going to say this one more time, Doctor,” Sami said. “Drop your weapon and get on your knees!”
Julian tried to steady the gun but his whole body was shaking. Suddenly, he heard a commotion behind him. Appearing through the main access door to the roof, Julian watched a literal parade of policeman converging on the roof, slowly walking towards him, each with their weapons pointed directly at him. They all wore riot gear and carried shields. They looked like modern-day gladiators.
Sami feared that even if a sharpshooter put a bullet clean through the doctor’s head, a nerve reflex still might twitch his trigger finger. If this happened, Al would likely take a bullet square in the chest. “Don’t shoot!” Sami yelled, waving her arm at the backup.
“Wise decision, Detective,” Dr. Youngblood said, directing his statement to Sami. He waived his gun at Al. “I want you to stand up and turn around with your back facing me. If you so much as flinch, I’ll put a bullet between your shoulder blades.”
Al eased up, supporting his back against the door. The cobwebs hadn’t yet cleared and the back of his head was throbbing. He felt a little woozy, but managed to find his legs. Having no other option, Al complied with the doctor’s order and turned with his back facing him.
Slowly, Julian moved toward Al. With his peripheral vision, he could see Sami inching toward him and the gladiators moving in his direction. “Don’t make another move,” Julian yelled. “Unless, of course, you want Detective Diaz to meet his maker.”
Julian grabbed Al by the back of his shirt collar and pressed the barrel of the gun against the back of Al’s head. “Let’s walk,” Julian said.
Gripping Al’s shirt tightly, the handgun still resting against the back of Al’s head, Julian stepped away from Sami and her gladiators and moved toward the edge of the roof. Once there, Julian noticed a two-foot ledge around the perimeter. He tightened his grip on Al’s shirt.
“Step up, Detective.”
Sami watched in horror as Al stepped up on the ledge, his body teetering slightly. Was this how it was going to end? So many thoughts flooded her mind. If Al plunged to his death without her ever forgiving him, how would she ever forgive herself?
“Now listen to me carefully,” Doctor Youngblood yelled. “I want you, Detective Rizzo, and your pack of wolves to get the fuck off this roof. If you’re not out of here in less than a minute, Detective Diaz is going to perform an Olympic-style high dive into a pool of concrete. And while you’re at it, call the boys in the copter, and tell them if they land, Diaz flies.”
What frightened Sami most was Doctor Youngblood’s sudden composure. In spite of his hopeless situation—there was no way he’d ever leave this hospital alive—he appeared to be in complete control of his emotions. In a matter of seconds, he had gone from panicky to rock-steady. Sami knew from her prior experiences with cold-blooded killers that those most composed were generally the most dangerous. She thought, for a moment, about trying to negotiate with him, but feared what he might do.
“I don’t see anyone moving,” Julian said. “If you’re not—”
Julian made the fatal mistake of taking his eyes off Al for just a moment, long enough for Al to react. Still shaky and lightheaded, Al maintained enough wits about him to take advantage of the situation. He swung his right elbow and caught Julian square in the nose. Reacting without thought or reason, Julian dropped the gun and covered his face with both hands. Blood poured out of his nose. Al tried to step down off the ledge, but Julian grabbed his shoulders and tried to push him off the roof. Al had no idea how he maintained his balance, but he stood firm.
Sami watched them struggle for only a second. She rushed toward them as quickly as she could, the backup right behind her. By the time she got there, Al had managed to overpower the doctor and step off the ledge. Both men were still locked in battle, swinging and tugging and pushing. She saw the handgun the doctor had been holding lying on the roof. She raised her weapon.
“Dr. Youngblood, get on your knees and put your hands behind your head! Do it now!”
As if rehearsed, both Al and the doctor loosened their grip on each other. Dr. Youngblood put his hands behind his neck, but instead of getting on his knees, he jumped up on the ledge with the grace of a gymnast mounting a balance beam.
He stood on the ledge with perfect balance, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, as if it were a lazy Sunday afternoon and he was enjoying a panoramic view of the city.
“Doctor Youngblood,” Sami yelled. “Please step off the ledge.”
He turned toward her, but held his ground. The blood from his nose was painted on the front of his scrubs.
“Please, Doctor, put your hands behind your head and step down.”
He didn’t move.
“Last chance, Doctor,” Sami said. “Off the ledge and on your fucking knees.”
“What are you going to do, Detective, shoot me?”
“If we have to,” Sami warned.
“Then go ahead and shoot.”
“Do you really want it to end this way?”
Dr. Youngblood turned around, his back facing her, his toes near the edge of the roof.
“Why, Doctor?” Sami yelled. “Why did you kill those people?”
“The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”
Julian thought about Nicole, how he’d betrayed her. He thought about his daughters, how much he loved and missed them, how much he’d hurt them. He thought about his career and the research grant, his legacy now one of notoriety. Most of all he thought about all the subjects he had put in an early grave, of the dreadful things he had done to his female subjects. In one moment of clarity, Julian understood why he had ravished Eva and Rachael and McKenzie and Nicole. It had nothing to do with them; they were merely substitutes for Rebecca and Marianne, victims by default. He’d given up all hope that he could ever repay his cousins for the emotional damage they had inflicted on him, for alienating his entire family by accusing him of attempted rape. The only means by which he could temper his rage was to redirect his hunger for revenge. There was no other way for Julian to find even an ounce of consolation.
He couldn’t imagine spending the rest of his life in prison. Then again, any responsible jury would surely sentence him to death. Death would be a gift, much easier to deal with than rotting in a cage. But how would he deal with the guilt while he waited to die? No, he would not subject his family to a long, protracted trial or allow the news media to dismantle the lives of his wife and daughters. He had no choice but to do the righteous thing.
Doctor Julian Youngblood, husband, father, gifted cardiologist, inched forward, his toes now hanging slightly over the side. He leaned into the wind until the weight of his upper torso pushed him forward like an Olympian diving off a platform. Once airborne, it felt like his stomach was heaving into his throat. Soaring toward the ground, the air rushed past his scrubs, making the sound of a flag flapping in the wind. His arms and legs were helplessly flailing, and his last thoughts were of
Isabel and Lorena.
Sami rushed to the edge of the roof, stopped a few feet short, carefully leaned forward, and looked over the ledge. Horns were blowing and tires squealing. She could see Doctor Youngblood lying motionless on the concrete sidewalk, face down. Behind her, a police helicopter landed on the helipad. She tried to feel pity for him, but all she could feel was an unusual sense of relief.
“When you get to hell,” she whispered, “tell Simon I said hi.”
Al moved toward Sami and they stood toe to toe for what seemed like an eternity. Eyes speaking, tongues still, Al put his arms around her and pulled her toward him. They embraced.
“Thanks for saving my life,” Al said.
“All in a day’s work.”
“How can I repay you?”
“No need. I owed you one. Remember?”
When Sami and Al walked into the precinct, they were greeted like celebrities. Their fellow detectives and the support staff applauded as if they had just won an Academy Award. Even though she felt energized beyond anything she could imagine at this point in time, she didn’t feel like a movie star or a heroine. Four innocent people had died at the hands of the killer and a fifth was fighting for her life. What had she done that was so extraordinary during the investigation? Anything worthy of such fanfare? Wouldn’t any other detective have taken the same steps and followed the same leads?
She had been distracted during this investigation, overly concerned about her personal life. Had she made mistakes, or overlooked some obvious facts that might have helped her close the investigation sooner? Once again, she doubted her competency and wondered if the homicide department was where she belonged.
Al was shaking hands with everyone, celebrating as if he’d just won the California Lottery. The blow to the back of his head caused a minor concussion and the doctor warned that he might suffer from lingering headaches. But overall, he gave Al a clean bill of health. Sami stood in his shadow as they weaved toward Captain Davidson’s office. She hoped to remain as low-key as possible. Detective Osbourn approached her with a chimp-like grin on his face.
Osbourn offered his hand, but then withdrew it. “Screw the handshake. You deserve a hug.”
He put his arms around Sami and held her tight. “Congratulations.”
She really liked this young man.
“Have you heard about D’Angelo?” Osbourn asked.
Sami shook her head.
“His goose is cooked.”
“What happened?”
“Seems that he hasn’t been satisfied with his detective wages for quite a few years. You name it, and he’s done it. Extortion. Drug trafficking. Stolen property. Assault. The DA wants his ass. Looks like the poor slob is going to do time and lose his pension.”
Sami found it difficult to feel any sympathy for him. “You know what they say. ‘Mess with the bull and you get the horns.’”
Davidson poked his head out of his office. “Hey, Rizzo. Grab Diaz and get your asses in here.”
Al was still busy celebrating. The precinct looked like the locker room of the Super Bowl champions, minus the champagne. Sami grabbed Al’s arm and dragged him to the captain’s office.
“Mayor Sullivan is delighted. She wants to take both of you to lunch next week.”
“All the credit goes to Sami,” Al said. “All I did was a high-wire act.”
“Whatever the case,” Davidson said. “That asshole got what he deserved. I just feel sorry for his family. Turns out, he had a wife and two daughters. It’s a damned shame.”
The captain pulled a cigar out of his desk, carefully unwrapped it as if it was a sacred ceremony, and lit it. “I’ve been waiting for a long time to find a reason to smoke this cigar. It’s a Montecristo. Best cigar in the world.”
“You do know that Cuban cigars are illegal, right, Captain?” Sami said.
He took a long hit and filled the room with blue smoke. “So arrest me.” The captain smiled a rare smile. “Let’s get serious. How’s the O’Neill girl?”
“She’s out of surgery,” Sami said. “Doctor Templeton is pleased with how everything went. But no matter what, he says she needs a transplant as soon as possible. Unfortunately, heart donors are hard to come by.”
“Well,” the captain said. “Let’s hope for the best.” He handed Sami an envelope. “Open it.”
“It’s a bit early for a Christmas card, Captain,” Sami said.
“But not too early for a raise.”
Sami tore open the envelope and pulled out an official-looking letter signed by Police Chief Larson.
“Congratulations, Sergeant Rizzo,” the captain said. He handed her a new gold shield.
Sami couldn’t form a syllable.
Sitting right next to her, Al leaned over and gave her a quick hug. “You deserve it, Sami.”
“How did this come down so quickly?” Sami said. “I mean, we just solved the case a few hours ago.”
“This has been in the works since we reinstated you,” the captain said. “It’s just a coincidence that it became official today. I’m not sure about you, but I think the timing couldn’t be better.”
Sami glanced at Al and noticed a strange look on his face. She’d known him long enough to be sure that his sentiments were sincere. Still, he had to feel slighted.
“I want you and Al to take a week off—with pay, of course. Compliments of Mayor Sullivan. Go have some fun. Plant a tree. Go on a cruise. Or just watch soap operas all day. Now get the hell out of here while you can. But remember one thing, Sergeant: Along with your shiny new badge and title come more responsibilities and more politics. Be ready for a shit-storm when you return.”
Sami sat across from Doctor J and wasn’t sure how to start the conversation. When Sami had contacted her, she hadn’t expected to get an immediate appointment. She guessed that the good doctor was making a concession on her behalf.
For the first two days of Sami’s vacation, she wore her favorite lounging pajamas day and night and didn’t once leave the house. It was now time to integrate back into the world.
“You must feel an incredible sense of relief,” Doctor J said.
“If another serial killer shows his ugly head,” Sami said, “I’m packing my bags and moving to Montana.”
Doctor J laughed. “Tell me, you haven’t been in this office for quite a while. What brings you back?”
“Brain damage.”
“That’s rather vague. Please elaborate.”
She explained to the doctor about Al’s trip to Rio and about his affair with the Brazilian nurse. “He’s begged me to give him another chance, but I’m not sure I can ever trust him again.”
“Are you in love with Al?”
“He calls me three or four times a day, wanting to meet for coffee or join him for lunch. I keep telling him that I need some time. He never argues with me or tries to convince me to meet him, but I sense he’s getting impatient.”
“You’re not answering the question. Are you in love with him?”
“I was.”
“And you feel that his affair has extinguished your love?”
“I’m sitting here with you because I don’t know what I feel.”
“And you expect me to figure it out?”
“I’m just looking for some guidance.”
“That can only come from your heart. I can tell you what to do, but this is a decision only you can make. If you don’t feel you can ever trust him again, then I can assure you that at best your relationship with Al will always be on shaky ground.”
“How can I trust someone who’s betrayed me?”
“Under the right circumstances, good people do bad things, Sami. From what you told me, Al was in a terrible place sitting by his sister’s side, uncertain whether she’d live or die. He had no one to comfort him. It’s my guess that your voice on the telephone and support was not enough. This wasn’t about sex, Sami. Al didn’t cheat on you. He simply needed a safe harbor.”
“I’m really growing w
eary of everyone telling me that it wasn’t about sex.”
“Well, Sami, it may not be what you want to hear, but in most cases of infidelity, it’s not about sex.”
“Suppose he does it again?”
“Then you’ll be faced with another decision. Life is a series of crossroads, some significant, others less important. Each and every day of our lives, we reach these crossroads and have to decide which way to go. If you’re looking for perfect love, or searching for a flawless man, you’d better prepare yourself for a rough ride.”
Sami thought about her words, but as poignant as they were, she still didn’t know what to do. There was one fact, one monumental fact, she neglected to share with Doctor J. Maybe she just needed to sit down with Al and bare her soul.
After Sami left Doctor J, she headed home, but impulsively made a U-turn on Genesee Avenue. Doctor Templeton had called Sami yesterday and said that McKenzie O’Neill had regained consciousness and was responding to the surgery much better than anyone had anticipated. Never having met her, she decided to visit her at the hospital and introduce herself. She wanted to meet this courageous young woman face-to-face.
When she pulled into the parking garage, she was overcome with an eerie feeling. This is where it all happened. Saint Michael’s hospital would never be the same.
She found her way to the entrance, and hopped on an elevator to the sixth floor. She’d heard from Doctor Templeton that McKenzie would remain in the ICU for at least another two weeks. She wasn’t sure if McKenzie was still in the same hospital room, so she went to the nurses’ station.
Resuscitation Page 37