He’d been lost in the images of his mind for so long that he scarcely heard Lisa when she emerged from her bedroom, dressed and ready to go.
“So, where were you just now?” she asked him.
“You really want to know?” he asked, chuckling.
“No, I just thought I’d ask so that you thought I gave a care about you.” Lisa retorted, backhanding his shoulder.
Shrinking back, acting as if shot by a mythical bullet, Alex grabbed his chest. “Ugh! Ok you win.”
“Heh!” she said “This is news to you?”
Alex laughed. He loved Lisa’s sharp wit. He loved Lisa. Loved her for who she was and, perhaps, who he was when he was with her. More than just a partner. Lisa was a friend. And perhaps—
“Lt. McAvey’s gonna be a grouch if we don’t book it to the hospital, home boy!” she continued, interrupting his train of thought.
“You make me feel good, Lisa.”
“Heh,” Lisa laughed, blowing on her knuckles and “polishing” them on her blouse. “It’s a woman thing. You wouldn’t understand.”
“I understand more than you think, Chica”
“Like what?” she asked, raising her eyebrow.
“Like . . .” he hesitated. Looked at his watch. “It’s time to go.”
* * *
When she awoke, it took her milliseconds to realize he was gone. Tina was fine. Protected. Resting. But he took so much out of her.
Out of both of them.
“You’re picking your shots well,” she hissed. “Perhaps tonight we need to play by my rules.” She would try for the upper hand. She knew him just as well as he knew her.
She started the car, backed out of the parking lot and began the trip back to Tina’s house. “Tina. Baby,” She whispered, “we gotta do something about your taste in cars.”
CHAPTER 11
THE GAME
With Alex close behind, Lisa exited her home and headed toward the unmarked Sedan.
“Want me to drive?” she asked.
“No,” Alex said “I’ll drive. The last thing I need is for Lt. McAvey to have a reason to lengthen your suspension.”
“Oh! I never got a chance to tell you, did I?”
“Tell me what?”
“Before you got here,” Lisa began “Lt. McAvey called me. Said that my suspension had officially been lifted at the beginning of tomorrow. Said I could report for duty anytime.”
“Great!” Alex cheered “So you’re back!”
“Well,” Lisa pouted “Not quite.”
“What? What do you mean not quite?”
“Well, I told Lt. McAvey that I’d wait till Friday to come back.”
“Fri-” Alex couldn’t even bring himself to finish. “Why not just wait till Monday if you’re going to wait that long?”
“What?” Lisa smirked “And let you solve this case without me?”
As they were entering the Sedan, Lisa noticed her neighbor, Tina’s car pulling into the drive. Paranoia perhaps, but Lisa would have almost swore the car didn’t want to be there. As if the car itself were screaming in fear of something. She was far away and dusk was setting in, but something didn’t seem right about Tina.
Her hair looked darker. She didn’t seem to walk like Tina even. Strange, she thought to herself. She didn’t even know this girl and yet it was as if so much about her was out of place. Paranoia? Who knew? But, as Alex drove by, Lisa could not take her eyes off the front door, in which Tina had retreated, just seconds ago.
“Did you ever just have a feeling about one of your neighbors?” she asked Alex, still watching the front door to Tina’s house, as if she could will herself to see inside the house.
Alex laughed. “What are you kidding?” Lisa turned to meet his eyes.
“There’s something real strange about that girl.” Lisa said.
“What’s her name?” Alex asked
“Tina, I think. Tina Miles.”
“Hmmm . . .”Alex contemplated “Not the serial killer, Tina Miles!”
“The what?!” Lisa shouted. Her eyes grew big and scared.
Alex let go a huge belly laugh. “Relax, Chica! You think everybody’s strange.”
“Yeah well . . .” Lisa sighed.
It was a short ride to the hospital. But it was the quietest 10 minutes of Lisa’s life. She couldn’t bear to talk, for fear of having to scream to hear herself over all the noise in her head. Jason Brenton, that Tina girl. Something stank in suburbia.
“The hair,” she thought. “I know it was different.”
Pine trees, lawns and subdivision frolic passed by on both sides.
Lisa was oblivious to most of it.
“Geez,” she thought out loud, “I’m freaking out because she got attacked by the Clairol Fairy!”
“Well,” Alex said “You know how you women get about your hair.”
He stopped the car near the emergency entrance. He got out with confident deliberation, leaving Lisa sitting dumbstruck in the passenger seat.
Alex bent down and looked at Lisa.
“Yanno, if you think I’m going to give you a piggy back ride, you’re nuts.”
Jolted to reality, Lisa got out and joined her partner’s stride.
“This is funny.” Alex said, as they headed toward the emergency entrance of the hospital.
“Funny?” Lisa asked.
“Yeah,” Alex replied “10 minutes ago, I was the one freaking out over stupid stuff. Now, you’re the one freaking out. Do you always have to one-up me?” He winked, trying to ease Lisa’s edge.
She looked at Alex. She worried.
* * *
James Brenton was the first person Alex saw when they entered the emergency exit of County General. He was still wearing his uniform.
Still on duty most likely. Strange that he would be allowed to be here with a murder looming overhead.
“James” Alex said “Where is he?”
James’ eyes were red. He’d obviously been crying. His voice was still a bit nervous.
“He’s in recovery right now. Cut the femoral artery in one of his legs. Nearly bled out.” James gulped in life breaths. Weak, he had to steady himself until he finally gave in and sat down. Alex noticed very little about the waiting area, save a glass window overlooking the parking lot, a dirty floor and tons of plastic teal chairs.
No television. No vending machines. Strange for a waiting room this size.
James steadied himself – both in the physical sense as well as emotionally – then continued. “Doctor says he’ll be lucky if he survives the night.”
“James.” Alex began, putting one hand on his shoulder. “This is my partner, Lisa. We have got to talk to Jason while we can. Do you understand?”
James nodded.
“Where are your parents?” Lisa asked.
“I—I don’t know. They should be here by now.”
Alex looked at Lisa with puzzlement. They shared the same thought. “If that was my child . . .”
* * *
Dutifully, James Brenton rose from his chair. He still felt weak, but he knew the importance of Alex’s intentions. At the very least, he had to take them to meet with the emergency doctor. Doctor
Ramesh Joshi was a vascular surgeon and current attending ER resident of county general. He was an older gentleman. Slight in build. He would look almost frail, were it not for his commanding face. Dark. Heated by the desert sun. Hardened by a life of poverty and oppression.
As they approached the doctor, Alex showed his badge and asked to see Jason Brenton. With surprisingly little protest, he was led down the hallway through a door marked “ICU”. The sign warned that only family and physicians were allowed beyond that point. In normal circumstances, Alex and Lisa would have not been allowed such passage. At least not without the proper authorization. Tonight, however, they needed only the presence of a tear-drenched brother and the threats of more murders piling up on the 3 they already had on their hands.
* * *
How terrible, she thought. To miss your friends that much. The room was filled with beeping and flashing machines. Tubes entered into both arms. One filled his body with life-giving blood. The other, most likely some intravenous drugs, designed to either make him sleep or maybe make him stronger.
Before Alex or she could speak, she noticed James Brenton leaning over to whisper something in his brother’s ear. He was trying to wake the sleeping man child. She found herself thinking back to her childhood, when her Aunt Clarice died. Lisa remembered thinking how frail the old woman looked, how much older than her years, just days before her passing. This boy, though possessing an almost healthy countenance, seemed to hold fast to that same frailty that had so engulfed her 67 year old aunt.
James whispered into his brother’s ear until, weakly, his eyes twitched. He was licking his lips. Dry mouth. James took some ice chips from a cup near the bedside and fed them to his brother.
Weakly, Jason Brenton let the ice chips quench whatever thirst it could.
Just as Lisa was about to speak, Alex pulled out his badge.
“Jason,” he whispered calmly. “I’m Sergeant Alex Mendez.
This is my partner, Detective Lisa Warner. How are you feeling?”
Alex was being uncharacteristically human himself, Lisa noticed.
Seeing one of their own – James – in his grief, most likely had something to do with it.
Jason nodded. He mouthed the word “fine” but scarcely made any noise capable of swimming past the flood of beeps, squeaks and rustles in the otherwise quiet room. James grabbed the boy’s hand and knelt down beside him.
“Jason,” James whispered “I need you to tell these officers what happened to Ric and the others, ok?”
A marked increase in the beeps filling the room told of Jason’s trepidation at the mere thought of the events surrounding his friends’ mysterious deaths.
“What the heck happened to you?” Lisa thought to herself
James stroked his brother’s hair. “You ok, Kiddo?”
Jason nodded.
Alex took out a small tape recorder and note pad. Most cops didn’t use tape recorders. But, Alex wasn’t most cops. He wanted to listen more than he wanted to write. He wanted to catch nuances.
He wanted to catch hidden meanings. Meaning behind the words. Most cops fished for the facts. Alex fished for the answers.
Lisa had learned a lot from this man. Alex was better than good.
Alex was great! A perfect combination of warrior, psychologist, friend and businessman.
“Jason, I need you to tell me what you saw the night that your friends died. Can you do that?”
Jason’s lips moved, but even James, ear bent to his brother’s mouth, couldn’t make out what he was saying. Alex shut the recorder off. They were going to have to figure something else out.
Lisa had no ideas. Alex, she hoped, had something up his sleeve.
* * *
As Alex looked around the room, hoping to figure out a way to communicate with the friable Jason Brenton, Dr. Joshi quietly made his way to the door.
“Doctor?” Alex whispered.
As if preoccupied by his thoughts, the doctor turned only half way around and whispered “I am sorry, Sergeant Mendez, but I really do have other patients to see.”
Luckily for Alex, the doctor had turned just enough to reveal the contents of his coat pocket, which included a small note pad and several writing instruments.
“Doctor,” Alex hurried, moving toward the departing physician.
“May I borrow that pad and pen?”
“Certainly,” Offered the doctor, “But I don’t think the boy has the strength to write anything.”
“A name, Doctor,” Alex told him, turning full-on police persona.
“All we need is a name. Heck, if the boy can write two initials, it’ll give us something to start with until he gets better.”
“If he gets better,” The doctor remarked, shocking James Brenton out of his worried preoccupation. James’ eyes rose from his brother to meet the doctor. He said nothing. “Don’t worry, James. We’re going to do all we can for him.”
“Save him, Doctor.” James pleaded, weakly.
“Yes, of course,” The doctor replied, turning to walk out the door. “Detective, you can just leave my pad and pen by the bed when you are done with it. I will check on Mr. Brenton later in the day.” With that dry whisper, the doctor left the room, closing the door behind him.
Alex placed the small pad at Jason’s right hand.
“He’s left handed,” James interrupted.
That’s a good thing to know, Alex thought. If the boy can’t write with his right hand when he has all his wits about him, he’s sure as hell not going to be up to the task in this dilapidated condition. Reaching past the cacophony of tubes and wires, Alex placed the pad down on by Jason’s left hand. He motioned for James to take the pen.
“Put it in his hand, but don’t direct his writing. We want to make sure he writes what he saw without any help, ok?”
“Got it.”
James lifted the pad to his brother’s chest. Gently, he raised Jason’s hand and placed the pen in what seemed to be a sturdy and comfortable writing posture.
As if he’d done this a million times, Alex leaned down to Jason and whispered “Ok Jason. You have a pen in your hand and it is resting on a small note pad. I’m going to be asking you a few questions. Mostly yes or no questions at first. If the answer’s yes, I just need you to write the letter Y. If it’s no, write the letter N, can you understand what I want you to do, Jason?”
Y.
It looked like a three year old had written it, but it was legible enough to be a godsend to Alex’s eyes.
“Ok, we’re going to go slow. Take your time and think about the questions I ask you. You don’t need to feel rushed. Just answer the question I ask. Understand?”
He nodded.
So he could remember what questions he asked, Alex turned the tape recorder back on. If nothing else, It was a record of what happened. Something Lisa could corroborate later.
“Jason, did you see who killed your friends at Star Club?”
Hesitation. He wasn’t as quick with his answer this time. Alex thought maybe Jason had not heard his question. “Jason, I’ll speak up, so that you can hear me better. Did you see what happened to your friends at Star Club?”
Y.
A feeble attempt. Shaky. Almost nervous, even for a sick person.
Dutifully, Alex repeated Jason’s answer for the tape recording.
“Jason.” Alex pressed, gently. “Did someone try to kill you and your friends at Star Club?”
More hesitation, then, his answer. Y.
“Did this person have a weapon of some sort, Jason? A knife, a gun? Anything?”
The beeps on his EKG monitor grew steadily faster. The blood pressure read-out spiked noticeably. Alex found himself distracted by them almost as much as by the condition of James as by that of his sickly brother. James had grown pale with almost every question and answer. The realization that someone had tried to kill his brother was the harshest to take.
“Jason,” Alex pressed. “Did the person who hurt you use a weapon?”
Y.
The beeps on the EKG grew faster still. Confused looks seemed to fly around the room. Alex to James. James to Lisa. Lisa to Alex.
Everyone to Jason Brenton. Worry. Consternation. It was all present.
For a moment, Alex hesitated, unsure as to whether or not to press the questioning. An uneasy tingle crawled down the nape of his neck. Alex realized he needed to pres
s Jason as far as he could go.
“Jason. No weapons were found on the scene. You didn’t have any bruises, cuts, bullet wounds.” Alex said, with an eerie professionalism.
He was shifting gears now. He had to. “None of your friends were beaten, stabbed or shot, Jason. Are you sure the person had a weapon?”
Hesitation. N.
“You think somebody could do this with their bare hands?”
Lisa asked Alex.
“I’m not sure.” Alex admitted. “Special forces. SEAL. Lots of military guys are trained killers you know. Shoot, I bet several cops could do it if they set their minds to it. I have to ask the questions.”
After repeating the conflicting answers into the tape recorder, Alex directed his attention back to Jason.
“Ok, Jason, I need to ask you another question. Was the person that attacked you a man or woman?”
Hesitation. Jason took a while to write his answer. Slow, weak strokes drew out the next few desperate seconds. Finally, there it was. “Man.” They had one break at least.
Risking the boy’s health, the entire investigation and the sanity of everyone in the room, Alex pressed the questioning. “Ok, Jason, I’m going to ask you a couple more questions and then you will get some rest, ok?”
Jason nodded in fragile reply. Alex noted his nod for the recording.
“Jason, this is very important. Can you describe the man? His height, build, hair color? Things like that? I know you are tired, so
I just need a yes or no right now. Can you describe the man you saw?”
Jason scribbled for a long time. His hand was weak, shaking. He dropped the pencil a couple of times, only to be assisted by his brother. Finally, he put his hand on his chest, nodding as if to say he was done.
James looked at the pad and grew pale. Noticeably pale.
“What does it say?” Alex asked, taking the small note pad from James Brenton’s dazed fingers. As if powerless to do so, James’ gaze would not leave his brother’s frail countenance.
Alex held the pad so that both he and Lisa could view its message. It was as chilling an effigy as had ever been written. A pure mixture of clarity and confusion all in one. Simplicity given to the ultimate complexity.
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