by C. J. Pinard
When court was adjourned, I was escorted quickly out of the courtroom and through a side door. I caught Duke’s eyes briefly, the longing I saw in his gaze matched mine, of that I was sure. Tears pooled along my lashes. I wanted to go to him so badly, to hug him and thank him for what he’d done for me over the past couple of weeks. I knew it had been his job, and I even knew that he had been assigned me to because he’d gotten in trouble. It had explained his rudeness over the first few days of his supervision of me, or perhaps that was just his personality and he had softened around me. I think it was a combination of both. But as I locked eyes with him leaving that courtroom, I could tell he was just as desperate to speak to me as I was to him. But that would have to wait until the trial was over. I wasn’t allowed to speak to anyone. Even though the threat had been taken care of, and Shane was well and good safely in custody, there were still more threats out there.
Heaving a sad sigh, I let the agents take me back to the unmarked car. At least I could go home tonight. I prayed the jury would convict quick after tomorrow’s testimonies by the forensic accounting professionals and whoever else they were going to be calling in. I hoped that George and Elmo would be off to prison and this whole nightmare would be behind me.
I woke the next morning and repeated the protocol. I got dressed, ate, and the agents took me to the courthouse, where I was once again seated next to the federal prosecutor. Before court started, he turned to me and said, “I don’t think they’re going to call you back to the stand today, but I do need you here just in case. You don’t have to sit up here. In fact, I’m gonna have today’s witnesses at the table. You’re welcome to sit behind me in the galley.”
My face must have lit up because he gave me a small smile.
“Do I have to sit right behind you?” I asked, hopeful.
He shook his head and looked back down at his paperwork. “Nope, just stay in the courtroom. Sit next to one of the agents, though. For your own protection, of course.”
“Thank you,” I said, getting up and going to the fourth row where Duke had sat the day before. The two agents who had escorted me sat in the fifth row so I was now in front of them.
And then I waited.
Court was set to commence in six minutes.
I tried to breathe normally and checked the clock on the boring brown wood of the courtroom’s walls and saw three minutes ‘til court started.
The jury walked in and took their seats, all of them looking refreshed from the night they obviously got to spend in their own beds.
“All rise!” the bailiff said loudly. We all stood and watched Judge Sarah Johnson walk in. She nodded and we all sat with a reverent swish of our clothing on the cloth bench seats of the galley. The entire courtroom was full. I wondered who these people were. Well, I of course recognized the Watsons’ family. Their wives looked ragged and tired, and Elmo’s wife seemed to have a perpetual tissue in her hand. I felt bad for the poor lady. I doubt she had any idea her husband and son were such bad people. I mean, how would you ever get over finding out such awful things about people you’ve known your whole life?
I startled when someone sat next to me. I gasped to see Duke. The judge had begun talking but I didn’t hear her. Duke sat still, not breaking any rules by being here. He simply looked into my eyes and smiled a little then looked back to the judge. As she continued to recap yesterday’s events, Duke reached over and grabbed my hand, resting our hands between us on the bench. He wasn’t sitting close enough to put it on his lap but we were far enough apart that anyone, besides those sitting right next to me, wouldn’t be able to tell we were holding hands. Just that simple touch sent a rush of tingling warmth through me. I suddenly felt like everything would be okay.
The day had been long. They called up government employed forensic accountants, they called up fingerprint experts to testify on the weapon retrieved from Shane for fingerprints, and they called up forensic psychologists to testify as to the nature of Elmo and his son.
In a surprising twist, George was continuing to maintain his innocence about the knowledge that Elmo and Shane had collaborated on the murder of Angela. I’d known these men five years, and when George got up to testify – against the advice of his attorney – I had to say I sort of believed it. In his eyes he looked haunted and exhausted. He literally looked like he was about to have a nervous breakdown. He also claimed he knew nothing about the false accounting, but I wasn’t quite sure I believed him on that one. I think they knew what they were doing, but as the trial went on, I grew to believe more and more that Elmo had orchestrated this whole thing, and had elicited the help of his bonehead son. That kid had always been trouble. He barely graduated high school, and that was only because Ernest Jackson and a bunch of money had gotten him released early on bail from his second DUI charge to attend his own high school graduation. The kid was a perpetual screw-up. I never had much hope for him anyway, so I really shouldn’t have been that shocked when I saw him a few days ago hitting poor Agent Morris over the head while trying to kidnap – or kill me.
I hated him all over again. Duke must have felt me tense, because he stole a brief glance at me and squeezed my hand tight. I relaxed again. I wasn’t in danger.
Chapter 27
Duke
During some particularly boring testimony, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. Man, I was so happy to have my phone back. I inconspicuously read a text sent by my boss: Get your ass back here. Shane Watson’s escaped custody.
All the blood drained from my face and I felt a wave of dizziness wash over me. Are they fucking kidding me.
I turned around as discreetly as I could to the other agents sitting behind me to see they were both looking at their phones. They looked at me and had the same sick, haunted look I knew I wore. Rayanne was trying to remain facing front but she eventually relented and looked at me questioningly.
“I have to go,” I whispered, hoping she heard me. I was relieved when she gave me a brief nod and reluctantly let go of my hand. I didn’t want to let go. I wanted to stay there with her and tell the other agents to get to the hospital. I wanted to tell them that I could protect her better than they could. But everyone knew that wasn’t exactly the truth. I’d let her down, even if she was technically safe and alive. The guilt of being made by Shane and me not shaking down my car to find the tracking device would forever haunt me.
I bid her a sad goodbye with my eyes and I quietly left the courtroom. As I was getting into my car, I got another text from my boss to meet him instead at Tampa General Hospital and to prepare for a hell of a long day.
Tampa PD, along with everyone and their mother’s brother, were at the hospital when I arrived. I parked in front on the street and jogged inside. There was yellow police tape blocking off one of the elevators. I was greeted by Jeffrey and my brother, Mason, and his cocky Ken-doll partner, Hunter Jenkins. I really didn’t care for the guy but I never really let on. Just something about the way he smiled made me want to fold his teeth back.
“What do we have?” I asked to anyone who would answer.
My boss looked at my brother. “Go ahead, Detective Oliver, since you got here first.”
“It’ll be easier to show you,” he began, holding his hand out to Detective Jenkins who handed him an iPad looking thing. He pointed at the screen and began narrating. “About 9:30 this morning, an unknown male walked in claiming he was here to visit one of the patients on the trauma ward. The fucker had flowers and everything. You can see here where he dumps the flowers into a trash can after exiting the elevators. He then walked a short ways down the hallway and his perfect opportunity in the form of an orderly in green scrubs was unlocking a door.” I grimaced as I watched the poor dude get pushed into the closet and the door closing behind them. “You can see him emerge a couple minutes later wearing the scrubs. The orderly was unconscious in the mop closet, waking with a headache in nothing but his drawers.”
Hunter laughed and I ignored him.
“The
unknown male then goes down the hallway and enters a closet with the aid of the keys he stole from the orderly, and retrieves a stethoscope and one of the electronic thingies they use to take notes in. We confirmed those things require a password and thumbprint to get into, so I’m sure it was just for show.”
I shook my head. “He looks too stupid to know how to use it anyway. In fact, he looks stupid in those scrubs.”
Hunter laughed again, and Mason snickered. “I agree.” He swiped the screen and moved to the next video. “Here he is entering the suspect’s room. The guards questioned him briefly but he flashed the orderly’s ID at them and they just waved him in.”
“How the fuck did he get out?” I mumbled.
My boss said, “Oh just wait ‘til you see this shit.”
“If you look at the timestamp, you can see he was in there quite a while. We think he was trying to figure out how he was going to move Watkins with all that medical shit attached to him, and was probably removing his cuffs, too.”
I watched as the male pushed Shane out on the wheeled bed. I noticed the bars to the bed weren’t propped up, like they usually do when moving a patient in one of those bulky medical beds.
“Here, he has a brief conversation with the guarding police officers, and when we interviewed them, they said the male had told them the patient was being taken for x-rays.”
I was getting angry, gritting my teeth together as I spoke. “Okaayyy, so why didn’t one of the cops go with him?”
Mason chuckled and put his hand on my shoulder. “Brother, calm down, one did. Unfortunately,” he stopped, clicking to the next video and hitting play with his finger, “he did not come back up. The radiology department is on the first floor, so after about an hour when they didn’t return, the other cop radioed to his partner and got no response. Seeing no need to guard the room at the moment, he asked one of the nurses where radiology was and went down there but they weren’t there. He called it in.” Mason switched to a video of what looked like an alley. “There’s the cop there, running out with his gun drawn, but he was ambushed and knocked out cold. We do not have video of the vehicle that took the suspects away, as there are no more cameras back there.”
I shook my head. “Cop okay?”
“Yes,” Hunter answered. “He’s in the same condition as the orderly. Both are being observed for head trauma but will otherwise recover.”
“Fucking bastards,” I murmured.
Mason nodded. “I agree.”
Jeffrey said, “Ok it’s time for interviews. Duke, you take the nursing staff on that floor. I’m gonna go talk to hospital security and then to the unharmed cop and see if he remembers anything else. Where you boys headed?” He looked at Mason and Hunter.
“Since you guys are here, we’re gonna head out and do our paperwork. There’s obviously an APB out on Watson and the suspect. Your witness still under protection? Jeffrey here filled me in on what you’d been up to the last couple weeks.” Mason looked at me.
Nodding, I said, “Yes, she’s got agents with her until the trial is over.”
“Good.” He shot me a look I couldn’t quite decipher, but definitely meant we’ll talk later, and then left me with a fist bump.
I took the stairs to the third floor where the trauma unit was and went to the nurse’s station. I pulled out my brand new FBI credentials they’d issued me yesterday morning and said to a cute nurse sitting at the desk, “I’m Special Agent Hawthorne. Were you here this morning for the incident?”
The girl nodded and stood, “Yes.”
“Great, can I speak to you for a few minutes?”
“Sure. I’m due for rounds in about five, so we’ll have to make it quick.”
She was a tiny little thing with short black hair with some color streaks in it. I could see a few tattoos under her pink scrubs and a few piercings in her ears and a tiny one in her nose. Her badge read Adria.
I glanced at it and pulled out a notebook and pen from my sport coat. “Can I get your full name, please?”
“Adria Green.”
“And your position here?”
“R.N. Just a nurse,” she smiled.
“Tell me what you saw today, please. Don’t leave out any details.”
“Sure,” she started. “I was sitting at the desk when I looked up and saw one of the orderlies go into Shane’s room. I assumed he was cleaning. I didn’t see him come out at all, because I had to run to a code blue. About an hour later, one of the cops, Jerry, who was guarding that room, asked where we took x-rays and I told him in radiology, then I asked why. He said some guy in scrubs had come in to get the patient over an hour ago for x-rays and they hadn’t returned. I became alarmed and checked the computer. Shane Watson wasn’t scheduled for x-rays. In fact, we would have no reason to x-ray him. The cop told me to call hospital security then he took off running toward the staircase. I called security and that was it.”
“Anything else?” I asked, furiously jotting down her words.
“I just need to add that if you don’t find that patient soon he could get sicker. We’ve stitched up his bullet wound but he was rockin’ a nasty infection and had only received about 24 hours’ worth of antibiotics. He needs a lot more than that. What did he do, anyway?”
I looked into her curious brown eyes, and below the curiosity I saw a harshness there. Not anger but something like a fierce need to protect and help. I could tell this chick didn’t take any shit from patients or anyone else. “He’s wanted for attempted murder and attempted kidnapping, for starters.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, my God. What a dirtbag. Well,” she looked around and lowered her voice and said, “then I hope that infection hurts like a son of a bitch right about now!”
I chuckled and nodded. “I have no doubt we’ll find him again once he realizes that.”
“Anything else, Officer?” she asked. “I gotta make rounds.”
I ignored the officer comment and said, “No, thank you, Ms. Green. Here’s my card if you can remember anything else. Or just call Tampa PD. They know how to get ahold of me.”
She shoved my card into a small pocket on the shirt of her scrubs and then pulled a piece of gum seemingly out of thin air and popped it into her mouth. With a wink she left me to go do her rounds.
I liked that chick.
I interviewed a few more nurses and a couple of orderlies, and they either did not see anything, or they gave the same account Adria had. What they all had in common was asking why Shane had to be guarded. I found it amusing, but gave them all the same vanilla answer I’d given Nurse Green.
Once finished, I got into my car and took off toward the office. The anger at Watson escaping began to bubble up inside of me again. I raked my fingers down my beard and then punched the steering wheel. “Fuck!”
As much as I wanted to place blame, I really couldn’t. Watson and his cronies weren’t as stupid as they looked. Well maybe they were, but they sure had a set of balls on them. But why spring Watson from custody? Why didn’t they just take off and go into hiding until it all blew over? An idea hit me and I floored the gas pedal so I could get back to the office.
I sighed thinking of Rayanne. I hoped she didn’t have to get back on the stand today. I wanted to be there when she did. Make sure nobody harassed her. I wanted to watch her get into the government sedan and be taken safely home, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. It was well past 5 p.m. now and I knew court was already out.
I parked and sprinted up the steps to the second floor and went straight back into the intelligence research specialist’s office. This is where all the guys and gals who support the agents sit all day. We call them “IRSes” and when we need a quick errand done, like looking up a license plate number or running a guy, these are our go-to people.
“Hey, Smith,” I said, going straight to my favorite specialist. “Can you get ahold of the Pinellas County Jail and get some phone records pulled?”
He set his cell phone down and looked up at me. Pushing his blac
k framed glasses up further on his nose, he cracked knuckles littered with tattoos that stretched over his hands and I presumed all the way up his arm, although I wasn’t sure since his plaid dress shirt was only rolled to the elbows. The sides of his head were shaved and the lights glinted off the gel that slicked back the overgrown portion at the top. “I can just get into the system and check.” He typed quickly on the computer, seeming happy to have a job to do. I bit back a laugh at him. He was so damn awesome.
Typing quickly, he stopped and looked up at me with wide hazel eyes. “What’s the prisoner’s name?”
“Elmo Watson.”
He began typing while I stood in the small, windowless room with five other specialists. Smith murmured, “That old man is so going to die in prison.”
I gasped. “Wow. Why do you say that?”
“I’ve been watching the courtroom cameras. That geezer is so guilty. I can just tell by his mannerisms. Okay what date do you need?”
“Go back three days and tell me which numbers he’s called.”
The county jail had finally adapted the same system the federal prisons had in which the inmates had to add numbers to their phone lists and could only call approved numbers, and had to pay by the minute to talk to them through money on their personal inmate accounts. Which was usually added on by outside funds from friends and family.
“Okay, he calls the same number a lot. Hold on, let me run it real quick.” He clicked the mouse and we both looked to his other computer screen and up popped a name and address. “Emily Watson, 1855 Summer Court…”
“That’s the wife. Any others?”
“Yeah, there’s another here. It’s not a local area code. Let me run it.”
He again clicked over to another program and ran the number. It came up unavailable. “Prepaid cell.”