“Oh, Jack.” Pamela sighed. “That poor thing.”
“I don’t know about this.” Margaret shook her head. “Letting her go home with that lunatic.”
Jack headed for the door. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where’re you going?” Pamela said.
“Just to make sure he knows we’re watching him. Then I’ll check on the baby. It’s been too long. We’ve got to find out what’s going on. This is nuts.”
49
One of Senator Sterling’s bodyguards, Kennedy Cline, had been killed as he bravely provided gunfire that allowed Brian Shakespeare to continue on his rescue mission that night. Two other bodyguards—Tim Dokens and Robert Ocee—had been shot up badly. Now Tim was in fair condition and Robert was in intensive care at Mount Sinai Hospital. Everett Lester was there to console them and their families.
The extent to which his rock stardom empowered him to bring joy and comfort to others, simply by showing up, never ceased to amaze Everett. Ever since he’d become a Christian and walked away from his heavy-metal heyday, he’d taken advantage of as many opportunities as possible to bring light and meaning to other people’s lives.
That’s why he had dragged Karen and Cole with him in the middle of the night to Mount Sinai, even after the lengthy interview process with detectives at the arena following the terrorist attack. They’d been in the limo on the way to their hotel when Everett got the idea to visit those who’d been injured.
“Excuse me, Mr. Lester.” A nurse named Tammy approached in the dark waiting area. “Tim Dokens says he is ready to see you for a minute, if you still want to.”
“Absolutely.” Everett followed her through one set of double doors, then another, down a short hallway to Tim’s room.
“You can go on in,” she said. “I think about five minutes would be good. He’s still very weak.”
“Okay, thank you.” Everett stopped outside the door. Karen and Cole had gone to another floor to visit several people who’d been trampled in the stampede at the entrance of the arena. Everett knocked and walked in quietly.
Tim was on his back in bed, which was tilted up slightly. Tubes ran from his nose and mouth. There was a large white bandage on the side of his neck, and the rest of his body was covered with a sheet and blanket. His arms, which rested atop the blanket, were nicked with cuts and scratches and were covered with all kinds of needles, tubes, and white tape.
A light from over the sink cast a bluish glow over the bed.
Tim turned his head toward Everett and smiled.
“Tim, how are you doing, man?” Everett walked around the bed and stood next to him.
Tim raised his right hand a few inches, then dropped it. “I’m okay. Nice of you to come.” He spoke in a low, unhurried tone. “I’m a big fan.”
“Thank you. That’s awesome.” Everett rested a hand on his shoulder. “I hear you are one heck of a brave man.”
Tim turned his head and eyed a chair in the corner. “Have a seat.”
Everett dragged the chair next to the bed and sat on the edge of it. “How are you feeling?”
Tim clenched his jaw, and his nostrils flared. “Mad.” He swallowed hard. “One of our men died tonight. This shouldn’t happen in America.”
“I know. It still doesn’t seem real,” Everett said.
“This is why I applied to work on Sterling’s detail in the first place.”
Everett wondered if he would want to continue working with Sterling, who was probably America’s most obvious terrorist target.
“So much more is going on than the American people know,” Tim said. “This is the tip of the iceberg.”
Everett wondered how much more Tim knew, Sterling knew, the government knew. It was a sick and scary world in which to live, in which to bring up a child—like Cole.
“Do you know how Robert Ocee is? My partner?” Tim asked.
Everett could tell by the strain in his voice that Tim was extremely worn out.
“From what I understand, he was in surgery for a long time. They’re monitoring him closely.”
“He was hit bad.” Tim’s eyes welled up with tears. “He lost a lot of blood.”
“What about you? That’s a pretty big bandage on your neck.”
“I got hit there.” Tim’s eyes flicked down to his chest. “And I think they said I took three more. But they missed the important parts. I’m gonna be fine.”
“You’re courageous, Tim. I appreciate what you did. So do the American people. And so does Senator Sterling.”
“I can’t believe he’s alive.”
“It’s a miracle,” Everett said.
Tim squirmed and made a sour face.
Everett stood and found the remote for the bed. “You want this tilted up more?”
“Yeah, please.”
Everett pushed the button, making the bed rise. His phone vibrated. He checked it and saw Karen’s name. “Excuse me a sec, Tim, this is my wife. I’m gonna need to shove off soon.”
He walked over to the small hallway by the door. “Hey, honey. What’s up?”
“Hey. We got to see three people. They’re all gonna be fine. I’m so glad we came. How’d you do?”
“Good. I’m with Tim now, one of Sterling’s security people. He got shot like four times, but he’s good. Really strong. Amazing.”
Tim gave a half smile and shrugged.
“Oh wow, that’s incredible.” Karen paused. “Why did I call you? I’m so tired … Oh yeah. You’re not gonna believe this. Remember Jack, the security guy from the arena whose wife’s pregnant?”
“The one you gave the flowers to?”
“Yeah. He’s here! I just saw him a second ago. I wonder if they had their baby.”
“On a night like tonight, I guess anything could happen,” Everett said. “Where are you, anyway?”
“Second floor. There’s a waiting area right around the corner from the nurses’ station. Where’re you?”
“Fourth floor. I’ll come down in a minute, okay?”
Everett walked back into the main room. Tim had turned on the TV to a news station broadcasting live from the arena; the volume was muted.
“Okay, Tim, I’m going to take off. It’s been a pleasure meeting you,” Everett said.
“Something’s bugging me.” Tim stared at the TV. “Do me a favor, will you?”
“Sure.”
“Hand me my phone. It’s in the inside pocket of my jacket, hanging in the closet.”
“Okay.” Everett went to the closet. “But you better get some rest.” He felt around in the black suit coat and found the phone.
“Thanks.” Tim grimaced and with one hand thumbed through his contacts. “I need to talk to the investigator who came in earlier.”
“Why? What’s up?”
“One of their shooters … his eyes.” Tim shook his head, as if shaking away cobwebs.
But Zaher and his men all wore masks. What was Tim thinking? There was no way he could have recognized any of them. He was running on empty, probably still in shock and definitely in need of sleep.
Everett told him that again.
“I just want to see if there’s any more surveillance video,” Tim said. “It’s probably nothing …”
50
Jack stood waiting forever at the dimly lit nurses’ station—trying with everything in him to keep his cool. You’re tired … hungry … stressed … Be calm. But he was so frustrated! No one seemed to know anything about the baby. That section of the hospital was quiet as a morgue, as if they were running a skeleton shift. They’d been trying to track down Dr. Shapiro for twenty minutes, to no avail.
Jack stretched and paced, remaining close to the nurses’ station.
The whole thing with Lucy was messed up. Victor may have been a reputable engineer, but
he appeared to be one sick individual. Jack felt terrible for letting Lucy leave with him. But what could he do? His baby boy was in progressive care. He couldn’t leave Pam, and he certainly couldn’t leave her mother.
He had entered the hallway in time to get one last glimpse of Victor leading Lucy to the elevator, one arm locked awkwardly around her shoulder. As he stood there now, Jack vowed to follow up with her once this ordeal had passed.
A nurse showed up behind the counter, and Jack approached. “Were you able to find Dr. Shapiro?”
She looked up and stared blankly at him for several seconds before speaking. “We’re still looking,” she said. “I’m sorry. We’ll let you know.”
Jack started to speak, but she talked louder. “Why don’t you try to get some rest, Mr. Crittendon? We know where to find you.”
“I’m not resting until I find out what’s going on with our baby,” Jack said. “I’m not leaving here till I see the doctor and see my baby. That’s it. Now, please, get the doctor for me. Or just tell me where he is, and I’ll go to him.”
The nurse forced a smile and a nod, then snatched a manila folder from the desk and took off.
Oh great. That’s how you respond? Really?
He was tempted to just go back there and find the baby, but he knew he couldn’t do that. He was at the mercy of these people, who had all seemed to have checked out for the night.
His phone vibrated, and he picked up.
“What’s the latest?” Derrick asked.
Jack told him they’d gotten nowhere and filled him in briefly on the episode with Lucy and Victor. Then Derrick told him about the encounter with Sterling out in the field at Seneca Falls.
“Heading back to the office now,” Derrick said. “Got at least two stories to write. Then I’m gonna try to sneak home and get a few hours of sleep.”
“Sterling’s press conference will be on every station. That’s national news. And you’re right in the thick of it. I love it.”
“Hey, and you’re about to become an editor for us! You realize that, don’t you? Sterling’s ratings are soaring. I’m telling you, man, this is gonna push him over the top. He wins, I get the Washington beat, the chick comes off the news desk, you take her place.”
I hope you’re right, Derrick. I pray you’re right.
Jack’s head dropped, and he closed his eyes. The thought did feel good. “I know,” he said. “I need that job so badly.”
“Hey, I was thinking Z and I could come over before the press conference. Maybe bring you guys some coffee and doughnuts?”
“Dude, that’s nice of you, but not knowing the baby’s status, we’re still up in the air. You know what I mean?”
“Gotcha. Well, just let me know when you know.”
“Nurse Ratched” reappeared just then at the nurses’ station, hunched over, shuffling paperwork, trying to look busy.
“Excuse me.” Jack approached the desk. “Any word on Dr. Shapiro?”
She put both hands on the desk, sighed, and looked at him. “I’m afraid he’s left for the night.”
Woooosh.
Jack’s face was on fire. “What did you say?”
“He will be in first thing in the—”
“He was doing tests! On the nervous system. Cognitive tests. He said they would bring the baby to us an hour ago!”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Crittendon. Please, if you’ll give me a few minutes, I will do my best to —”
“How could he just go home in the middle of this? I haven’t even seen our baby.”
“Mr. Crittendon, please—”
“And you weren’t even going to tell me he’d left? What kind of operation is this? Who’s in charge of my baby right now? What doctor?”
“I can assure you, your baby is resting comfortably, Mr. Crittendon. There’s nothing more that can be done tonight.”
“I want to talk to whoever’s in charge, right now—your supervisor.”
Her face got sour, and she picked up the phone and punched some numbers. Then she spun around, crossed her arms, and sat her wide behind on the edge of the desk.
Jack heard her announcement for the supervisor over the PA system. She hung up and went back to shuffling file folders.
“I want to see my baby. Please, can I do that?”
“Mr. Crittendon, my supervisor will be here as soon as possible. I’m going to have you address that with her.”
As she launched into a recital of some rote hospital policy, Jack felt the presence of someone coming up behind him. That was all he needed—to be whisked away by hospital security.
The nurse’s eyes suddenly widened, and her speech slowed as she stared past Jack at whoever had stepped up behind him.
Jack turned around to find Everett Lester and his wife and son standing there.
“Hey, Jack.” Everett’s eyes shifted from Jack to the nurse and back.
“Everett Lester.” The nurse scanned the nurses’ station to see who else might be around. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe this!”
Everett nodded toward her with a slight smile, then squared up with Jack. “Sorry. I overheard some of that. What’s happening? You had your baby?”
Jack gave a nervous laugh. “Glad to see you all in one piece.”
“Let’s go over here.” Everett crossed some ten feet from the nurses’ station, and Jack explained what had transpired. His heart warmed as Everett, Karen, and Cole encircled him closely, listening with deep concern.
“So you haven’t even seen the little guy yet?” Everett said.
Jack shook his head and sighed. Everett patted him on the shoulder.
“It’s been a long day for you,” Karen said.
“For all of us.” Jack looked at each one of them and asked what they were doing at the hospital. Karen explained, and as she did, Everett quietly made his way over to Nurse Ratched.
“You wouldn’t believe how brave those people were who got trampled,” Cole said. “One was just a kid my age, a girl. She has a cast on her leg—pink.”
“She actually broke her leg in two places,” Karen said. “It’s amazing no civilians got killed—besides the one bodyguard.”
At six foot two or more, Everett towered over Nurse Ratched, who stared up at him with dreamy eyes and mouth agape.
Karen nodded toward Everett and kidded, “He makes friends wherever he goes.”
Jack chuckled. “Making friends with her would be a true feat.”
Karen smiled. “Where is your wife’s room?”
“Just down the hall and around the corner.”
“I suppose we’ll need to get her some new flowers. I’m assuming the ones I gave you didn’t make it.”
He thought of the beautiful bouquet sitting back in room 5-A at the arena. “No, they didn’t.”
“Do you think she would be up for a visit?”
Jack’s heart soared. “Oh, would she ever.”
Karen looked over at Everett. “Hey honey, you ready?” she said.
Everett turned from Nurse Ratched to face them.
“I think we should stop by to meet Jack’s wife before we head out,” Karen said.
“Sounds good,” Everett said. “But first, how about if Jack gets to say hello to his son …”
51
Shakespeare rubbed his eyes, leaned back in the chair, stretched, and … “Ouch. Oh, man …” He kept forgetting about the wound.
Prichard, the young FBI investigator who’d been appointed to him when Peek left, glanced over, then got back to whatever he was doing on his glowing laptop.
“I’ve about had it,” Shakespeare told him. “None of these guys is Zaher.”
“We have a lot more to look at,” said the investigator. He looked like a kid with his messy dark hair and retro black glasses.
“Is there an
y way I could go home and get some rest? Do more of this tomorrow?” Something was pulling at Shakespeare to get home, to be with Sheena. He was hot and uncomfortable, a little on the shaky side from not having eaten much.
The kid loosened his thin black tie, looked at his watch, and locked his fingers behind his head. “Special Agent Peek wanted me to have you get through all of those.”
“I know, but I’m beat, I’m in pain, and I don’t know how much good I’m doing you right now. Comprende?”
Prichard looked at his watch again, then pecked out some sort of message on his phone. “I’m checking with Agent Peek. Please just keep going for now, if you will.”
“What else is going on?” Shakespeare said. “Do you guys have any significant leads? Have they ID’d bodies?”
“I can’t say, sir. That’s all strictly confidential.”
Shakespeare rolled his eyes, thinking they probably had nothing. He needed some fresh air, if nothing else.
There was commotion in the hallway. A group of agents passed by, all talking at once. Special Agent Peek ducked in. “Well?” He looked at Prichard, then Shakespeare.
“Needle in a haystack.” Shakespeare threw up his hands. “I mean, really, almost all of these guys could be Zaher, or none of them. The masks make it impossible to ID—”
“The idea is to narrow it down,” Peek interrupted. “Just flag the ones that could be him.”
“I’ve flagged dozens just because I didn’t want to be negligent,” Shakespeare said. “But even the obese guys I didn’t flag could be him, if they went on Biggest Loser or something since these photos were taken.”
Peek dropped his head.
“Sir.” Prichard stood, one flap of his shirt coming loose at his skinny waist. “Did you get my text?”
“Yes, I got your text, Prichard,” Peek said. “What you have yet to get through your thick skull is that I do not text. I take calls. I call people. It’s old-fashioned, but that’s what I do. That’s what I will always do. You should know that by now. You want me, you pick up the phone and call me.”
Sky Zone: A Novel (The Crittendon Files) Page 22