by Ann Simas
“How is Della doing?” Tommy asked.
“She’s in pretty good shape. They were going to transfer her to the floor tomorrow, but….”
The priest glanced at him, his brow lifted in question.
“They can’t offer good security on the floor, so I’ve arranged for her to have home-care nursing for a few days at my folks’ place. Maria will be there in the morning and I’m pulling in some favors from a couple of off-duties, who’ll provide round-the-clock security temporarily.”
“This sounds serious,” Tommy said.
“It is serious. The guy who tried to kill Sunny also planned to kill Della.’”
Tommy frowned. “What about the people who work for Uncle Matty? Can you not have some of them there, too?”
His father owned Sentinel Security, but his father was out of the country. “Yeah, but I don’t work for the company and until I speak to Darren Crewson, who’s in charge until Pop comes home, that part of it’s in limbo.”
Tommy whistled. “Wow, this is quite a predicament.” He shook his head, the frown back in place. “I still don’t understand why he wanted Della and Sunny dead.”
Luca shook his head. “Right now, we don’t know why either. Della and Sunny had never met before the hit-and-run, but it’s pretty damned certain that Della is the key to what’s going on. We just have to figure out how, and why.”
The priest looked over his shoulder, toward the door. “They both have protection now?”
“We have someone in Della’s room and as soon as the Keenes leave, Brant will go back in with Sunny. I’m going to ask the LT to have another patrol officer remain stationed outside between both rooms.”
“Sounds like you’ve got Della covered when she leaves the hospital, but what are you going to do about the Fyfe woman?” Brant asked.
“That,” Luca said, “is something I haven’t figured out yet.”
They spoke for a few minutes more before Tommy took off. Brant wandered away, indicating he’d stand guard between the rooms until a uniform showed up for hall duty.
Even though it was the middle of the night, Luca hit speed dial for Trey.
“What now?” Trey said in greeting.
“Everything’s calm for the moment. Were you asleep?”
“Yeah, right. Don’t know if you heard, but a guy tried to kill a cop’s sister, again.”
Despite his fatigue, Luca grinned. “Thanks, buddy. I know how you love your beauty sleep.”
“Piss off,” Trey said, laughing. “You know, I must be getting old if a rookie can beat me to the draw.”
“I for one am glad about that. Since I’m not allowed to work this case, I need to be able to count on you. Your ass wouldn’t even be allowed to sit at your desk,” Luca reminded him, “if you’d fired your weapon.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“You feel like coming over to the hospital to brainstorm with me?”
“Got nothin’ better to do. Want me to bring you some food?”
“I could do with something,” Luca said. “It’s been a long time since breakfast. See you when you get here.”
He shoved his phone back into his pocket and moved over to the doorway. The Keenes were still with their daughter and he was impatient to know how Sunny Fyfe was doing. He felt like kicking something. The guy who’d tried to kill her came to mind, but he resisted the urge to seek him out in the ER and follow through.
He exchanged some words with the nursing supervisor and a few minutes later, the Keenes came out of Sunny’s room. “How is she?” he asked, relying on parental information, because the nurse hadn’t given up a damned thing.
“Sleeping soundly,” Harry said, “or at least that’s what they say.” He frowned. “I don’t know how they can tell sleep from a coma. As soon as I get home, I’m going to call my doctor and ask him.”
“Harry, it’s the middle of the night. Jon is probably sound asleep.”
“When the stock market was falling, he didn’t worry about calling me after midnight, now did he?”
Bebe shook her head. “You’re right, and honestly, I’d feel better if I knew the answer to that question, too. To tell you the truth, I’m worried that they even gave her a sedative while she has that date-rape drug in her system.” Her lower lip began to quiver. “God, I’m so exhausted. I feel like I should stay, but we need to get home and let Molly go so she can get some sleep, since she’s agreed to watch the children for us tomorrow.”
“I’ll be here all night,” Luca said, hoping to put her mind at ease. “You folks go, and do try to get some rest. If anything changes, I’ll call you immediately. I’ll check in on Sunny regularly throughout the night and Officer Crawford will be posted in her room, with the light on, just in case someone else pays her a visit.”
Bebe’s eyes welled with tears. “You don’t think…?”
Luca cursed himself for causing Sunny’s mother further anxiety. “No, I don’t, but I prefer to be cautious than not.”
“Thank you so much, Detective.” She put her hands over her eyes and began to cry quietly. “I just can’t believe everything that’s happened. I don’t know what to tell the children.”
Harry pulled her into his arms, holding her close. Tears ran down his beard-stubbled cheeks. “Libby will be here in the morning. Together, we’ll figure out what to say to the kids. I’ll come back around six and after that, one of us will be with Sunny at all times, okay?”
Bebe nodded. She looked down at her feet sheepishly. “I can’t believe I came out still in my pajamas and slippers.”
“No one even noticed, sweetheart,” Harry said.
Luca wanted to offer more words of comfort, but how do you comfort a parent whose child had experienced clinical death not once but twice in a twenty-four hour period?
Chapter 11
. . .
Trey showed up with a bag of tacos and several hamburgers, along with fries, soft drinks, and a box of cookies. “Sorry I couldn’t find anything more nutritious. As you know, there isn’t much to choose from late-night in Fremont.”
Luca shrugged. “Food is food. Thanks for bringing it.”
They invited the two patrol officers to take what they wanted, then carried what was left to one of the tables in the ICU family lounge.
“The LT said patrol will send someone over at shift change for hall duty.”
Luca shook his head in disgust. “It’s always a goddamned pissing contest.”
Trey agreed as he tore open the bags.
They devoured half the food before they exchanged another word about the case.
Finally, with his belly feeling some relief, Luca said, “I’m puzzling over what this bastard said just before he went down. ‘I’ll take this pig with me and he can visit his sister in the afterlife.’ At first, I thought maybe he has some kind of vendetta against me and Della was collateral damage, but when I found out he had both her and the Fyfe woman’s name in his pocket….” His fingers tapped a random beat on the tabletop. “If he was after me, he might go after Della, too, but why Sunny Fyfe? Shit, I don’t know what to think now.”
“We’re back to square one. It has to do with Della, and Fyfe by association.” Trey sipped from his Coke can. “I don’t think it involves you at all.”
“What if we’re wrong about that?”
“Just in case, I spent some time going over our cases for the past two years and I couldn’t find Morgan’s name mentioned anywhere.” He reached for the messenger bag leaning against his chair leg and extracted a number of manila folders. “That doesn’t mean someone didn’t hire him to hurt Della, but you’re right, it still doesn’t explain how Fyfe is involved.” He slapped the files down in front of Luca. “You may be able to think of others who promised retribution, but these are the ones that came to mind for me.”
“I’m glad you made copies instead of bringing the official files.”
Trey grunted. “My momma didn’t raise no dummies, partner.”
Luca offered h
im a wry grin and fingered through the labels before he opened two of them. He perused the copies of his transcribed case notes. “All these guys are still in prison and this one” —he tapped the top file— “is dead. I read his obituary last month in the newspaper.”
“He had kids, as I recall, and the oldest son seemed bent on following in his father’s footsteps.”
“Maybe,” Luca said absently, something bugging at him. “Does Morgan have a rap sheet?”
Trey pulled another file from the messenger bag and slid it across the table.
“William James Morgan,” Luca read. “AKA Toady.” He looked across at Trey. “Toady. He did have an unusually deep voice. Childhood nickname?”
Trey nodded. “If you read further, he has an impressive track record. You know that someone like this guy, with armed robbery on his record, got his wings doing other shit as a kid.”
“You check with our source to see if he had a sealed juvie record?” In public, they didn’t mention Sissy’s name.
Again, Trey nodded. “She went through her channels and got back to me just before I left the station.” He looked around at the couple watching TV at the other end of the room. Both had apparently fallen asleep, but Trey lowered his voice, regardless. “Usual shit. Broken windows, shoplifting, dope, school fights, assaulted a teacher, expulsion, car theft. The deep voice came from his father trying to strangle him when he was in grade school. Damaged his larynx.”
Luca flipped the page and read. Even though his father had tried to kill him, Toady had taken a page from his father’s playbook and pursued a life of crime. His father was reputed to have been a hit man for the mob in Denver. “He passed the killer gene on to his son.”
“In a manner of speaking.”
He went back to the photo that was paperclipped to the inside of the folder. “I’ll show Della and Sunny this picture in the morning, see if they recognize him. Maybe that will help us figure out what the hell is going on.”
“I used my phone to snap a picture of him when they were loading him on the gurney.” Trey patted his pocket. “I thought I’d show it around at Della’s workplace when they open tomorrow, see if maybe he’s been seen hanging around there.”
“Good idea.”
Trey leaned back in his chair and extended his long legs out in front of him. “Boyson’s taking a public defender. Says he’s broke. His FPD rep told him this afternoon there’s not much they can do for him, being that his partner and the victim will both testify against him, plus he has a history.”
“Unfortunately, until Sunshine Fyfe, none of that history has been substantiated by victim accounts. Jesus, this has really turned into a clusterfuck,” Luca said, and proceeded to tell Trey about the adverse reaction Fyfe had to the roofie. “They lost her once, but managed to bring her back.”
“Man, she’s been through hell over the last few days.”
“All because she stopped to help Della.”
“Go figure, right? What do you wanna do?”
Luca knew exactly what Trey was asking. “Here’s what I had in mind.” He leaned forward on his elbows and in a low voice, laid out his thoughts.
. . .
Sunny woke with a pounding headache. She couldn’t be certain, but she thought her chest hurt worse than it had the day before. And for sure, her throat hurt. It felt like someone had taken sandpaper and rubbed it raw. She was thirsty, too.
She let out a sound that could have either been a croak or a squeak. In response, Cop Two shot out of the chair in the corner. She hadn’t even noticed him sitting there until then. “Why are…you…here?” she managed to get out. His expression might have been comical under other circumstances, but she wasn’t feeling any humor over the worry, relief, and indecision relayed by his various expressions. Instead, she was consumed with residual anger over the unwarranted arrest, and the way his partner had abused her.
“Hang tight,” he said. “I’ll get a nurse.”
He returned in minutes, not only with a nurse, but also with Della’s cop brother and another man in a suit. The three of them stood away from the bed and let the nurse do what she had to do.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Awful,” Sunny answered honestly. “Worse than…was it yesterday when I was awake last?”
“Yes.” The nurse took her temperature and checked her pulse. She made notes of those and the various readings on the monitor, then asked, “Would you like some water?”
“Please.”
“Be right back.” She glanced at Luca. “Perhaps you can explain to our patient what happened.”
Luca wanted to respond, Perhaps not, but he was the detective in the room and someone had tried to murder the patient. He gave the nurse a curt nod and stepped over to the bed.
“Do you remember anything that happened yesterday?”
Sunny frowned. She tried to swallow. It hurt like the devil. “My parents came. I…talked to Della. Am I still under arrest?”
“No. Della straightened all that out.”
She frowned again, eyeing the unknown man, searching out Cop Two. “What about the jerk who beat the crap out of me?”
Brant stepped forward, “Ma’am, my name is Brant Crawford. I know that saying I’m sorry I didn’t stop Officer Boyson immediately isn’t much consolation to you, but I am. I’d give anything to go back and have a do-over on that stop.”
Sunny struggled to remember. Boyson. Boyson. He was the one who had mauled her under the guise of arresting her. Something about that niggled at her brain. “Is he going to be disciplined for what he did to me?”
“He is, ma’am.” He shot a desperate look at the detective.
Some hidden message passed between them, but she couldn’t imagine what it was. Not only did she have a jackhammer in her head, but her skull felt like it had been stuffed full of bouncing golf balls. “Please, don’t call me ma’am. Even though I may be ready for a walker after all this, I’m too young to be called ma’am.”
The young patrol officer flashed her an obviously grateful grin that earned a raised eyebrow from Detective Amorosi.
“Last night,” Luca said, “I came in to sit with you after your parents left. A man entered the room who had no business being here. Before I realized that, he had dosed you with flunitrazepam through your IV.”
“Flunitrazepam? What’s that?”
“It’s more commonly known at the date-rape drug, Rohypnol.”
Sunny froze, horrified. A shocking chill coursed through her body. “He…he came in to…to rape me? Here in the ICU?”
“No,” the detective said quickly. “His intent was not sexual assault.”
Sunny felt a modicum of relief, until she realized he might have been lying to ease her fears.
The nurse returned with a small tumbler of ice water. She put the straw to Sunny’s lips and said, “Just a little bit, okay? You can have small sips to start with and if you hold it down, you can have more.”
Sunny was thirsty as hell, but she suddenly lost interest in water. The detective’s words were slowly sinking in, but her mind was still cobwebby, making it difficult to glean their meaning. The steady throbbing didn’t help matters any.
She didn’t remember feeling anything but pain when she’d awoken before. Well, pain and worry over what her parents and her children must be going through. Her gaze traveled from the nurse to the detective, to the unknown man, and on to the obviously remorseful patrol officer, then landed again on Della’s brother.
Sunny knew little about Rohypnol, except that men used it to knock out women when they wanted uncontested sex. Which begged the question, if sexual assault hadn’t been on the man’s agenda, why would he want to knock her out?
Her muddled brain had a light-bulb moment. She gasped, almost afraid to voice the question. “He was trying to kill me?” She jerked up in the bed and moaned, having forgotten about the broken rib. The nurse pressed against her shoulder, firmly but gently, urging her back. “But why?” Sunn
y demanded. “Why would anyone want to kill me? I’m just an ordinary person. I stay home and take care of my kids and write children’s books, for God’s sake. What could I have done to make someone want me dead?”
The third man stepped forward. “Trey Stevens, Ms. Fyfe. I’m Luca’s partner.” He withdrew a piece of paper from his inside jacket pocket, unfolded it, and held it up for her to study. “Do you know this man?”
Sunny gasped again. “Is he the one who…?” She couldn’t say it again.
Detective Stevens nodded. “Do you know him?”
“No, but I’ve seen him before.”
“Where?”
“He works at the car dealership where Della went down on her bike, or at least I think he does. He wore a name tag that said….” She closed her eyes, thinking hard as she tried to recall the name on the name badge. “James. James Morgan.”
“What the hell!” Luca said. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. He was such an ass, I’ll never forget him.”
“And you’re certain this is the same man?” Detective Stevens asked, tapping the edge of the photo.
“I’m positive. He has that cleft-chin thing going on. His voice was really deep, too. Kind of froggy-sounding.” She examined the photo again. Something was strange about it. “Is this man…dead?”
“No, but he was half out of it when I took the picture. Why do you say he was an ass?”
“He wouldn’t help me with Della because she’d vomited and was bleeding.”
Detectives Amorosi and Stevens shared a look.
Secrets irked Sunny, but she let it go. They had a cop thing going on. Need-to-know or some such BS and she, only being the victim, obviously didn’t need to know. While they hesitated, she asked another question. “He said he called the ambulance. Did he also report me as the hit-and-run driver?”
Detective Stevens withdrew a slim notebook from his pocket and flipped it open. “Nine-one-one reported the initial call from a woman who gave her name as Bonita Hargreaves. The FPD call log showed a Bill James reporting a hit-and-run driver five minutes later.” He stared at the notebook, muttering, “Hunh.”