by Linda Ladd
“I know this all sounds crazy, but it’s true this time, I swear. She just showed up here out of the blue and held a gun to my head. That’s exactly what happened. No reason for me to lie about it. Why would I?”
“We both know why. You’re protecting somebody.”
“Not this time.”
“So okay, you know nothing about a gun fight resulting in two gory deaths that happened inside your living room. Let me think, why doesn’t that ring true to me? You tell me.”
Novak agreed. That did sound worse than pathetic. He could make up a better story. “I know this doesn’t add up. Sorry, man, but that’s how it went down. I swear to God. That’s the truth.”
“Look, Novak, we go back a ways. I know what you do and how you do it. I know you cut corners at times, but you usually do the right thing in the end. You need to come clean and tell me everything. This is not a burglary; it’s a double murder. Two guys are dead, and a woman is hurt bad.”
“Okay, there might be one other thing. I did see these two men tailing the woman down Bourbon Street earlier tonight. It looked to me like she’d been held captive by them. See those handcuffs over there behind the couch? One was dangling off her wrist when she got here, and somebody had beaten her up pretty good. My take? I think they had her somewhere in town where they beat and abused her. Somehow she escaped, and they came up here trying to shut her up for good. They burst in here ready to put her in the ground; I have no doubt that’s what they intended. They were shooting at her but would’ve killed me, if I’d gotten in their way. They thought I was helping her, I guess. I don’t know, but that’s what happened. Who knows if I’m right? I’m conjecturing.”
“You’ve got no idea who they are or where they came from? If that’s your story, it’s weak, Novak.”
Novak steadied his eye contact, tried to look his most earnest. “I was caught off guard. I’ve been working surveillance for you guys all week. This thing came out of the blue. You need to talk to the woman. They were following her, and I think they wanted her dead. My gut’s telling me there’s more to this than meets the eye, and I think there are other guys out there waiting to gun her down. Maybe you should think about putting an officer outside her hospital room.”
“You need to come with me to the station and make a statement.”
“I thought I just made one.”
“An official statement. But it’s late and this is going to take some time here, so I guess you can wait until tomorrow.” He watched the forensic team a moment, as they snapped photographs and dusted the room for fingerprints. “This is a crime scene, Novak. You can’t stay here, not until we release the scene, and that’s not going to be any time soon. You can bunk over at my place, if you want, or get yourself a motel room.”
“No problem. Once I know that woman’s out of the woods, I’m heading down to Bonne Terre. I don’t have a dog in this fight, and I don’t want one, believe me.”
“Well, you’ll have to show up tomorrow for your statement.”
“So I’m free to go now, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m heading over to Charity. I’m pretty sure she came to me for help. She knew my name. I want to know why me before I bow out and leave it to you.”
“Investigating this case is my job. Don’t get involved. You got that, Novak? Don’t do anything to get yourself in trouble.”
“Who, me?”
Gabe just grimaced. “Damn, this scene is messy. This is gonna take all night. I doubt we’ll get over to the hospital till tomorrow, and that’s if the doctors will allow us to interview her. If she comes to tonight before I get there and tells you anything, and I mean anything, you need to call me right away.”
“Right. No problem. I’m here to help.”
Gabriel side-eyed him as if he didn’t believe him, and then he walked away to talk to his technicians. Novak took off in a hurry, wanting to get out before Gabe changed his mind and dragged him down to the station. In the garage, he tore down the crime scene tape and backed out his old dark green Ram pickup truck. Maneuvering around police cars blocking the narrow alleyway, he made it to the hospital in minutes. Traffic was light now, the crowds mostly dispersed. He parked outside the emergency room entrance. He knew where the surgery suite was because he’d spent some time there nursing various and sundry gunshot wounds he’d suffered. The surgical waiting room stood empty except for one intern in green scrubs who was lying across four attached seats, sound asleep. A nurse named Becky informed Novak that Jane Doe was still undergoing surgery. She wasn’t sure how much longer it would take, either.
She walked off toward the nurses’ station, and the first wave of weariness hit Novak. He needed to sleep, but he couldn’t do that so he went searching for the vending machines. The coffee machine was well stocked and offered a variety of caffeine goodies, including cappuccino and latte, but he settled for two large black coffees and a plastic-wrapped ham and cheese sandwich. He carried the food back to the now-empty waiting room and chose a seat which kept his back to the wall behind the door because he was expecting company, the kind who carried big guns and hung around with the two dead guys now resting on a slab inside the police morgue. They had been hired by someone who meant business, and his gut told him there were plenty more of them and they weren’t going to stop coming after that woman. She had to have something big and/or incriminating on them. So he kept his .45 loaded on the table beside him, and his right hand free. They were coming, no doubt about it, and they would do it before she got a chance to talk to detectives. Novak hoped they did show. He had some questions he wanted answered, too. He sat there alone in the silent room, downed one cup of coffee after another, and waited with the patience he’d learned while serving in the military where everything moved at a snail’s pace.
It started raining about four thirty that morning. Everything was nice and calm except for a squad of solemn nurses moving about in crepe-soled sneakers. Novak sat alone and watched the rain trickle down the window in forked rivulets and paint the panes with silver drops that glowed from the halogen street lights. He was working on a new cup of caffeine. It no longer tasted good, but it kept him awake and halfway alert.
Jane Doe’s operation had been declared successful a little over an hour ago. The nurse bringing the good news also emphasized that the injury to the arm was not something to be taken lightly. The bone had been nicked, and there had been bone splinters and damaged flesh and ligaments torn from bone. Surgeons had removed the bone fragments and thought they’d gotten them all. That said, the nurse apprised him that his friend’s nasty wound would take time to heal but she’d been lucky that the bullet hadn’t severed an artery or broken a bone. The patient was in recovery now, and just be patient, the surgeon will drop by to talk to you as soon as he can. They figured everything would heal nicely and her arm would be functional, given time and a bit of physical therapy. All that being said, it was still pretty much a lukewarm but hopeful prognosis. And she wasn’t dead, which was always a good thing in Novak’s world.
Novak had spent some of the wait going through the two dead men’s wallets and cell phones, hoping to find out who they were and where he might find their buddies holed up before their next assassination attempt. It turned out to be a veritable treasure trove that he was just itching to explore. He had specific names and addresses now. That gave him a roadmap to find out who had hired these guys. He could hit them first and hit them hard. He liked that idea. All he needed was for the woman to illuminate why this stuff was happening so he could get on with it. He took offense to them shooting up and then dying in his living room. Gabe LeFevres would get the phones and wallets turned over soon but not quite yet. Not until he found out the why behind the bloody evening.
Novak grew increasingly impatient. Uncharacteristically, his mind was seething. Maybe it was with anger, or maybe it was simply annoyance. The girl’s battered face kept coming to m
ind. He craved payback for that, and he didn’t even know the woman. She needed to tell him what he was getting into. He had to find out who she was and what they wanted. Novak had a feeling that these guys liked to come at you in waves, like cowards always did. The attack could be mob connected, somehow. That’s what it sounded like to Novak. He stood up when a doctor pushed through a swinging door. He still wore dark blue surgeon scrubs and had a surgical mask hanging loose around his neck. He looked tired. He held a Styrofoam cup of coffee that matched Novak’s.
“Are you the man who’s been asking about the Jane Doe gunshot victim?”
“That’s right. The nurse told me she was going to be all right.”
“Yes, we think so. I’m Dr. Palen. I performed the surgery. Your friend was lucky. A few inches to the right and she’d be dead. The operation went very well. It turned out to be a bit more complicated because of bone fragments, but she should fully recover, given time and a lot of rest. She’s out of recovery now, and they’ll be taking her down to her room any time. No need for her to stay in ICU. She’ll be in Room 217. She’s probably already there.”
“What about other injuries? I saw signs that she was beaten before those guys shot her. I tried to stop the bleeding on that arm at the scene.”
“She lost a lot of blood. We had to transfuse her. She’ll be weak for a few days.” He shook his head. “I hate to tell you this, but you probably already know. She was beaten, yes, but she was also tortured. We found cigarette burns on her breasts and thighs. There were bruises and lacerations on her face, arms and legs, and the bottoms of her feet.” He hesitated and considered Novak. “I take it that you’re not her husband?”
“No, I don’t really know her at all. She was at my place when they got her. I’m trying to find out her name so I can contact her family. I’ve already talked to the detectives. They gave me permission to wait here and speak to you. Somehow I feel responsible.”
“You shouldn’t. You probably saved her life. Still, she has suffered major abuse. You can tell the detectives that she was repeatedly physically assaulted. I’m not sure if she was subjected to a sexual assault, but the bruising indicates that might be a possibility. She also sustained a minor stab wound to the abdomen, really more of a slash. The blade entered on her left side but didn’t penetrate or hit any internal organs. I believe the knife wound occurred tonight sometime, but the other injuries look several days old, at least. She must have gone through something terrible at the hands of those men.”
Novak nodded, well aware. He was going to find the rest of those guys and enjoy a little chat with them. “But she will survive and eventually be all right?”
“Physically, she will be fine if she takes care of herself. Emotionally, psychologically, that might be more difficult to predict. She’s going to need therapy, I suspect. I’m glad the guys who did this can’t hurt anybody else. They were brutal men.”
“Yeah.”
“I told the nurses that you can stay in the room with her tonight, if you like. Somebody should be there when she comes to. She’ll probably wake up in a state of terror.”
“I’ll do that. Thank you, Doctor.”
Novak watched him walk out and disappear down the corridor. Novak took the elevator to the second floor and had no trouble finding the room. There was no policeman on duty yet, which wasn’t good. Inside, the woman lay on her side in the hospital bed, eyes closed, her breathing rapid and shallow. Her left arm and shoulder were bandaged and bound up to her body by a maroon sling. Her blond hair was smoothed back, but he could still see blood in it. The monitors were steady, blinking out her heartbeat and blood pressure, all of which looked stable. She had on a lightweight generic green hospital gown covered with tiny white squares that was tied in the back. There was absolutely zero color in her face. She was as white as a cloud against a snowbank and looked like a corpse left to rot on a battlefield. Novak pulled up a chair close to the bed and waited for her to wake up.
Outside in the corridor, he heard low murmurs of conversation between the nurses. Far away in the distance, yet another siren screamed like a wounded eagle until it died into echoes on the street right below him. Mardi Gras was over; he was done with that job. Now he had bigger fish to fry. He liked mysteries, and he had a doozy with this woman. He watched the corridor door because he was dead certain that a bevy of bad guys were incoming, all with deadly intent. His gut told him to be ready to react, and he always listened to his gut.
Chapter 3
An hour later, the woman shifted slightly under the sheet and attempted to open her eyes. Novak stood up and looked down at her. When she tried to move her bad arm, she groaned. Novak moved closer to the bed. He leaned down close so she could focus on his face. She made a valiant effort to see him but was so weak and groggy that her words were hard to understand.
“What...happened...?”
Novak glanced back at the door and then spoke softly, close to her ear. “You’re in the hospital. The two men chasing you burst into my house and shot you. You killed one of them. I got the other one. Do you remember any of that?”
Her forehead furrowed, and Novak wasn’t sure if she understood the question. She licked at parched lips sewn up with black surgical thread. Novak could see by her dilated eyes that she was still under the anesthetic and completely confused.
He tried again. “You were taken into surgery, and now you’re in a private room. The doc says you’re going to be all right.”
She appeared to be trying to garner her thoughts but couldn’t seem to make her mind work.
“Listen, I’m staying here with you, so don’t worry about anything. I won’t let anyone else hurt you. Just rest, and we can talk again when you feel better.”
Her eyelids drifted down. She didn’t open them again. Novak wasn’t sure if she’d understood him. Her face looked terrible. They’d applied some kind of shiny clear salve on her bruised eyes. The left one was almost swollen shut. Her bottom lip had those three big, ugly, black sutures. Novak left her alone and walked out into the corridor to inform the nurses that she had awoken for a few minutes. The morning shift had showed up in a lot of bustle and hushed whispering, and two new nurses hurried in and busied about taking their patient’s vitals. They entered their readings on a laptop and then tried their level best to get rid of him. Novak refused to leave, politely but resolutely. They gave in, but they didn’t like it. Two hours later, the patient woke again. Her pain had intensified this time, and when she tried to sit up and realized her arm was bound, she panicked and tried to get out of bed. Novak held her down against her pillow as gently as he could.
“Let me go, I’ve got to get out of here! They want to kill me!”
Novak held on until she stopped struggling, which didn’t take long. Then she lay still, exhausted. It was his turn to talk. “Okay, you need to listen up. I know they’re after you. Do you understand? I know you probably came to me for help.” She stared up at him, her injured eyes open now and locked on his face. “I want to know why. Who sent you to me? And why didn’t you go to the police when you had the chance? They were patrolling everywhere on the streets last night.”
“No! No cops!” She was becoming agitated again. Her plea was low but shrill, and she started pushing against his hold.
“They’re already involved. It’s a double homicide investigation now. I killed one of those men hunting you. I’m involved big-time, and I want to know why.”
She squeezed her eyes closed, her breaths now low and labored. She didn’t look or sound so hot.
Novak softened his tone. “Okay, you’re safe here. I’m not going to let them hurt you. Understand? Just tell me what’s going on. That’s all I’m asking.”
She looked small and battered and helpless, but somehow he knew she was stronger than that. She kept her eyes shut when she answered him. “I can’t stay here. They’ll get me.”
“Sorry, but yo
u’re not up to going anywhere right now. You’re too weak.”
“Please, just can’t you help me—”
“That’s what I’m trying to do. Tell me who you are. What’s your name?”
She turned away from him. Then she came out with it, so low that he could barely hear her. “Lori Garner, okay? But you can’t tell anyone who I am, you can’t, promise me.”
Novak had never heard the name. “I won’t. Who sent you to find me?”
“They’ll kill me. They told me they were going to, but I got away.”
Novak glanced at the closed door. He believed her, all right. “You can’t be moved just yet. I’ll stay here on guard and make sure they don’t get in here.”
“Please, just let me go—”
Her breathing was labored now, so much that her heart monitor went berserk: her pulse hammering, her blood pressure climbing rapidly. Novak laid his hand atop hers. “Shh, calm down. I’m not leaving you in here alone. Nobody’s getting near you, trust me.”
Before Novak could calm her down, an incensed young nurse pushed the door open and shooed Novak away from the bed. She went about her work efficiently, examining her patient, studying the chart, and then administering an injection that quickly sent Lori Garner to dreamland and dropped her vitals down to normal. She turned around, hands on hips, and eyed Novak with hostility. Her name was Juliet.
“I’m aware that Dr. Palen gave you permission to stay here, but if you continue to excite her like this, you’ll have to go.”
“I’ve got to stay here.”
That got her attention. She bristled. “Why?”
“Because she doesn’t have anybody else to look after her.”
The nurse didn’t roll her eyes, but she badly wanted to. “She has an entire staff of doctors and nurses here to look after her, if you’ll recall. I can’t force you to leave. I’d think you’d want to do what’s best for her.”