by CJ Lyons
"What did you find?"
Instead of answering Drake's question, Jimmy asked, "How's Spanos fit?"
"Spanos?" Drake felt his shoulders hunch with an urge to pound the ex-cop's face. Spanos. Yeah, something like this would be just his style. Vicious, sneaky, downright dirty pool. "I can see that."
"Don't get hot and bothered. I don't have any solid evidence."
"What do you have?" Drake wondered if he'd made a mistake sending Monica Burns to Spanos. But the ex-cop had it in for Drake, not some innocent ditzy victim.
"Asked the whiz-kids in tech support for help. The photos from Pamela's crime scene and PM are part of an electronic database the coroner put together for teaching purposes. Anyone can go online and access it."
"You're not serious?"
Jimmy shrugged one shoulder. "It's all public information. The faces are blanked out, but the whiz-kids say anyone with photosoftware can fix that. Anyway, they traced the recent downloads and one of the email addresses was an ASpanoscop."
Drake jumped to his feet, already headed to the door. Jimmy stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Hold up, it's not proof. Anyone could have set up that account in Spanos' name."
"I don't need proof. It's him." Spanos thought Drake stole Pamela from him, blamed Drake for her death. And he was infatuated with Hart. Now he was driving a wedge between Hart and Drake, using Pamela's death to unbalance Drake while Spanos moved in, played the hero for Hart. "It's the only thing that makes sense. Pamela didn't have any family other than a sister in California. It has to be Spanos."
"Give me the weekend," Jimmy asked. "Let me see what more I can find. On Monday, if I have enough probable cause, we'll go after a warrant for his Internet accounts, his computer."
Drake shook his head. That would mean making it an open case. Last thing he needed was guys at the House getting into his business, thinking he couldn't handle things on his own.
No way. Especially since a good number of them still blamed him about Pamela. He could understand why. He'd been with her that night, should have seen the mood she was in, how unstable she'd become. Ten feet away when she pulled the trigger, and all he could do was watch?
Who was he kidding? He was at fault and everyone knew it. This past year, he'd tried to atone for her death and what good had it done?
Pamela was still dead.
"At least you won't have to worry about Hart," Jimmy continued, interrupting Drake's self-indulgent pity party. "Spanos would never hurt her. He's smitten."
"I need to call her, tell her about him."
"Not until we have solid proof. Unless you want to look like a fool and send her running into his arms. Give me the weekend. I'm catching anyway, so I'll have time to dig deeper."
"I can't just leave all this to you."
Jimmy scoffed. "Sure you can. Look at yourself. You're driving us all crazy. Go. Take Hart. Go to your aunt's. Have fun, get some rest, relax. Spanos isn't going anywhere."
"But tomorrow, the deadline—"
"Forget about tomorrow. So Spanos is throwing a party. No one says you have to show up for it. Better that way, might slow him down a bit."
"So would breaking his legs."
"Don't do it, DJ. You go after Spanos and it gets bloody, what do you think Hart will think? Not to mention the powers that be."
Drake blew his breath out. Jimmy was right. Hart didn't even let him wear his gun inside her house. She wouldn't tolerate senseless violence—however deserved it might be. And their boss, Miller, she'd fry his ass for sure.
"The joke's on Spanos. While he scurries around trying to ruin my life, I'll be with Hart on the Lake enjoying myself." The wispy memory of his earlier fantasy tantalized him. Drake couldn't help but smile.
"Don't worry," Jimmy said. "She's going to say yes."
Drake had no intention of asking Hart to marry him. "I told you—" Jimmy smirked. "Whatever. I'm out of here. See you Monday."
It was going to be all right. He and Hart were leaving the city and its memories today.
<><><>
Cassie remained with Athena and Baby Jane as they were rushed up to the OB floor, while Tony stayed with Tagger in the ER.
The OB-GYN nurses quickly started two IVs. Minutes later, the OB resident delivered the placenta and declared Athena "damn lucky." She ordered an abdominal CT scan to rule out any injury from the beating Athena received. Baby Jane was also doing well, although the pediatricians put her in a heated isolette while they checked her for infection and monitored her breathing. Cassie ducked out to check on the baby.
"I want to see her," Athena said, gripping Cassie's hand when she returned with the good news.
"They said as soon as she's stable."
Another nurse came in and adjusted the IV pump. When Cassie moved to get out of her way, Athena wouldn't let her go.
"You're not leaving. Please." The girl's voice slurred as her eyes drifted shut. But her fingers remained clenched around Cassie's. Even unconscious, Athena wouldn't drop her guard.
"Of course not," Cassie promised, smoothing her hand through Athena's matted hair. Athena's eyelids fluttered without opening and she began to snore.
"You don't have to stay," the nurse said as she tossed Athena's stiff, blood-soaked clothing into a biohazard trash bag. "We'll take care of her. Call the police and Children and Youth."
"Children and Youth? She just gave birth, even if she's a minor, technically she's emancipated."
"Not for mom." The nurse brushed her hands together as if, despite the gloves she wore, she still risked contamination from Athena. "To take the baby."
Athena whimpered, fighting off invisible demons. The nurse stepped back. Cassie grabbed a gauze pad from the bedside and wiped a small trail of spittle from Athena's mouth.
"Would you mind bringing me some three inch gauze and Xeroform?" she asked before the nurse could abandon her.
"What for?"
"To dress her burn." No need to mention the wound looked like a gunshot graze. It would only be one more thing the police would have questions about. Best to hide the gunshot wound before they arrived. Right now Athena needed rest more than interrogation. "And some shampoo and a comb, please?"
The nurse looked at Cassie like she was nuts, but then shrugged. "Whatever you say, Dr. Hart."
Cassie was certain the nurse rolled her eyes as soon as her back was turned. No matter. She never did get along with by-the-book nurses anyway. A few minutes later, the nurse returned with the supplies as well as a basin of warm water and a stack of washcloths.
Athena woke a short time later, almost lunging from the bed as a nightmare overtook her. Cassie held her down. "Shhh, it's all right. Athena, it's all right."
The girl stopped struggling and her eyes snapped open. "Baby Jane?"
"She's fine. Over in the nursery."
"I want to see her."
"I'll take you over as soon as your doctor says you're ready."
"I'm ready now." She tried to sit up and immediately crumpled back onto the pillows. "What are these? Take them out." She shook her arms with the IV lines as if they were ropes binding her to the bed.
"Medicine and fluids. You were dehydrated. Your kidney was bruised–"
"I was pissing blood."
"Who hit you?" Cassie tried to keep her tone mild, nonjudgmental. But the girl flinched and looked away.
"Nobody. I fell."
Right. And shot herself in the forehead in the process. Although the gunshot wound looked a few weeks older than the assorted other cuts and bruises covering Athena's body.
"Is there anyone we should call?" Cassie tried another tack. "Family?"
Athena shook her head, biting her lower lip.
"Want to tell me your last name?"
"Smith." The syllable emerged so grudgingly Cassie felt sure it was a lie. "You call the cops?"
"Not me. The nurses did–they had to."
Athena tried to get up again, managed to achieve a sitting position. "I gotta go."
/>
"How old are you?"
The question earned Cassie a defiant glare. "Eighteen. I'm an adult. I know my rights. I'm going to take my baby and leave."
"And go where?" Cassie asked gently.
Athena's mouth opened then closed again. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked in her breath hard and fast. She sunk back, collapsing in on herself, closing her eyes once more.
"It's all right," Cassie said, squeezing her hand. "Tell me who you're running from. Maybe I can help."
"Maybe ain't good enough. Baby Jane is safe, is all that counts." The girl's head was turned away from Cassie, her eyes squeezed tight. But she still allowed Cassie to hold her hand.
A hand that trembled with terror. Cassie blew out her own breath, trying to figure out a way to reach the young girl. No way she was eighteen. Sixteen, tops.
Although a very old sixteen. Just like Gram Rosa. By the time she was sixteen, Rosa had already seen her family slaughtered by Nazis, had escaped them once, and started her own resistance band of fighters. By sixteen, Rosa had already killed.
Cassie looked down on the battered and bruised girl in the bed. What had Athena been forced to do to save her baby's life?
"My grandmother, Rosa, was only your age when she was trapped in a hospital," she said, remembering one of her grandfather's stories.
When she was a kid she thought Padraic's stories about Rosa were made up, but then in high school a teacher showed her where to find Library of Congress recordings from survivors of the war, verifying the fantastic tales Padraic had spun. American, British, French soldiers all saved by one gypsy girl. The only voice not heard from was Rosa herself—she never shared her stories. Said it was bad luck.
"You got it easy," Cassie continued. "Rosa was trapped by Nazis in a hospital in France. Trying to rescue a bunch of English prisoners."
That got Athena's attention. And skepticism. "How's a kid going to fight off a bunch of soldiers all by herself?"
"She wasn't alone. My grandfather was with her. They figured the best way to rescue the prisoners wasn't to fight."
Athena sat up straighter. "What do you mean, not fight? Sure you gotta fight–can't let them win."
Cassie wasn't sure they were still talking about Nazis, but continued with her story. "Ah, but my gram, she was smart. She waltzed right into that hospital and left with eight prisoners before the Nazis even knew she was there."
"How'd she do that?"
Gotcha, Cassie thought. "She stole an ambulance. She dressed as a nurse, my grandfather a Nazi officer. They forged transfer papers for the prisoners—eight RAF pilots—and whisked them away to Marseilles where they hid them in a brothel."
Athena smiled at that. "Your gram sounds like a smart woman."
"Yes. She was."
"What would she tell me to do?" Athena's smile fled, replaced by fear. "How do I keep Baby Jane safe?"
"Tell me what the gangs wanted. Let me help."
For a moment, Cassie thought she'd broken through to the terrified teen. But then Athena pinched her lips tight and shook her head.
Cassie relented. "Life is hope," she whispered. "That's what Rosa always said."
Athena sighed in disappointment, Rosa's words too simple to be taken as serious advice, and closed her eyes.
<><><>
Once they rolled a still-sleeping Athena down for her CT scan, Cassie checked on Baby Jane, then went down to the ER to see about Tagger. He was in the Ortho room, lying on a gurney, fingers dangling from wire traps as the resident wrapped fiberglass around his forearm. She glanced at the x-rays: transverse fractures of both the radius and ulna but no displacement or angulation. For a kid, it was the kind of fracture that should heal just fine in a few weeks.
Of course the big question was: where would Tagger be in a few weeks? It didn't sound safe for him to go back to his aunt's house. She'd make sure the ER staff got social services involved. But if CYS put him in the wrong foster care home—one with rival gang bangers—he'd be in even more danger.
She spotted Ed Castro, the head of the ER and Drake's partner in the Liberty Center, standing at the nurses' station, noting something on a chart.
"Ed," she called. He turned and smiled. "Are you and Natalie still licensed as emergency foster parents?"
His smile widened. "Two steps ahead of you for once," he said. "Tony Spanos told me all about your escapade. I called Natalie. She'd love to have a baby in the house."
"How about the eleven-year-old who helped save the baby's life?" She nodded to the open door where Tagger lay. She still didn't know his real name, but that didn't matter. He'd shown more courage on that street than most adults twice his age. And more common sense.
Since his own kids were all girls, Ed had a soft spot for boys trying to find their way. After Cassie finished telling him Tagger's story, he grabbed the phone. "I'll let Natalie know there will be one more for dinner."
Cassie went to give Tagger the good news and was surprised to find Tony with him in the cast room.
"Is the baby okay?" Tony asked.
"And Athena?" Tagger added.
"They're both fine. Nice cast," she told Tagger. The ortho resident finished it with a layer of Steelers logo-emblazoned fiberglass.
Tagger wiggled his fingers. "Gonna be hard to do my art with this thing on."
"Maybe that's not a bad thing," Tony said. "After today, I don't think either the Rippers or Gangstas are gonna be happy to see you on their turf."
"How'd you like to get some home cooking tonight and stay in a house with a big backyard?"
Tagger stared at Cassie like she'd said something stupid. "No way. I'm not staying with anyone. I'm gonna stay here, look after Athena and Baby Jane. I promised Rodney I would."
"Rodney? Your brother?" Cassie sat down beside Tagger, taking care not to jostle his arm. "Tagger, is Rodney Baby Jane's father?"
He didn't look at her. "Baby Jane's why they killed him."
Tony stood at alert. "Who? The Rippers or the Gangstas?"
Tagger's street-born suspicion kicked in. "Doesn't matter. I promised Rodney anything happened to him, I'd take care of them."
Rodney died two weeks ago—about the same time Athena got shot. "Athena saw it?"
"Yeah. Said she has proof of something. Said it's the only thing keeping her and Baby Jane alive." He looked up at her, eyes filled with anguish. "I gotta stay with them, keep them safe. I gotta."
Cassie wanted to hug the boy, but held back, knowing he'd hate it. "I'm sorry, sweetie. But a real good friend of mine, Dr. Castro, is going to take you and Baby Jane home with him. I'll tell the police and guards here to watch over Athena."
Tagger didn't look too convinced. His concern grew when Ed appeared in the doorway and beckoned to Cassie. "That girl you brought in? Athena Smith? She vanished from CT."
Chapter 11
The last they tracked Athena was a blurred shot on the security footage of her wearing nurse's scrubs and a lab coat, climbing onto a bus headed for East Liberty. Cassie didn't tell the others she'd inadvertently planted the idea of a disguise in Athena's mind with her story about Gram Rosa.
Tagger was livid. Wanted to go hunt for her, but Ed finally calmed him down with Tony's help.
It was late afternoon by the time Cassie left. Tammy had driven Cassie's car to Three Rivers, so Cassie drove her and Antwan home before heading back to the Liberty Center. She just pulled into the parking lot, still smeared with blood, sweat, and grime, when her cell rang. She grabbed it from the charger, hoping it was Drake.
No such luck. It was Lisa Dimeo, the Assistant DA handling Mary Eamon's case.
"Cancel any plans you have for tonight," the prosecutor started.
"Why?" The last thing Cassie needed was something else going wrong today. She let herself inside the Center, almost tripping on the tool belt she'd dropped when she rushed out this morning.
"Haven't you heard? Brickner has a new lawyer. He got all of our DNA evidence tossed. Been out on bail since yesterday."
"What happened?" Cassie asked, astounded the confessed child molester and murderer was out walking the streets.
"The body was left unattended in the OR for almost half an hour before the coroner arrived. That means no chain of custody."
Cassie felt an overwhelming urge to hit something. She couldn't bring herself to put a hole in the drywall she and Tammy so painstakingly hung, so she hit mute and shouted a string of obscenities into the empty room.
"It gets worse," Dimeo went on. "The defense filed a motion to exclude your testimon. If it's granted, we'll have to drop the case for lack of evidence."
"What's wrong with me testifying?"
"They're saying since you've testified as an expert witness before, you knew anything you learned in the course of a medical history could be used as evidence. They're saying that's the same as a coerced confession, that you manipulated Brickner and he had no benefit of counsel."
"So they're using my own expertise against me? That's insane. I can't help it if Brickner confessed to me."
"Mary's mother and grandmother will testify you orchestrated the interview hoping he would confess even though you knew it wouldn't do Mary any good. That you in fact acted as an investigator rather than a physician."
"How am I supposed to take care of a patient if I don't get a complete history?" Cassie argued.
"This has nothing to do with taking care of people. I have to give Judge Flory my response tomorrow morning. He'll review the motion over the weekend and there'll be a hearing on Monday. Without you, I don't have a case, and Brickner walks."
"So you need me Monday?" Cassie held out hope she could salvage at least part of the weekend. Drive up this afternoon, come back tomorrow in time to meet with Alan King for her deposition on Richard's malpractice case. She knew how important this weekend was to Drake, wanted to be there for him.
"You don't understand. We're going over your stuff tonight. I need to put it in my rebuttal and we have to prep your testimony for Monday."
"Tonight?" Cassie stared out the rear windows of the clinic, straining to catch any hint of a breeze. The air was so thick, the dust seemed permanently suspended, defying the laws of gravity.