by Lynn Emery
“Yeah, yeah. Later. What’s the hottest news around town?” Talia forced a cheer into her voice that she didn’t feel.
“The gun control issue is about to be revisited as the politicians like to say. Don’t worry I’m on it. Your clients won’t be neglected.”
Talia put the receiver down and turned on the speaker. “I’m pulling up my files now,” she said as she turned on her notebook.
“You downloaded the notes to me last week, remember?” Jasmine asked.
“Oh, right.” Talia blinked her dry scratchy eyes. “I’ve been a little distracted.”
“By the same subject we won’t talk about I’ll bet.” Jasmine made another rapid clicking noise with her tongue.
“You sound like a hyperactive cricket,” Talia retorted. “The mandatory-sentencing project is intense.”
“Yeah, right.” Jasmine’s tone implied she wasn’t convinced. “Anyway, you should be getting some material over your fax machine right now.”
Seconds later she heard the screech of the fax machine’s modem. “What is it?” Talia said. She accessed her database and tapped at the keyboard.
“A coalition of powerful folks down your way has been making the rounds. Smart money, too. They had heavy-hitting legal guns visiting the Justice Department. Didn’t Jarrod tell you?”
“No.” Talia pulled up the notes section to add information from Jasmine.
“He was down there with you. Hey, wait a minute. I just figured it out.” Jasmine let out a low whistle. “Two men, double trouble.”
“About the lawyers,” Talia said sharply.
“Darn, you’re not going to tell me,” Jasmine whined.
“If you don’t get on with the business at hand—” Talia said through clenched teeth.
Jasmine let out a dramatic sigh. “Geez. They’re making sure conservatives fight any changes to mandatory-sentencing laws at the federal level.”
“Interesting,” Talia muttered. She immediately thought of Winn Barron. “You know whom they represent?”
“A coalition of law-and-order advocates, victims’ rights activists, and law enforcement officials. These lawyers are based in Louisiana, but the coalition has members from several states.” Jasmine read off a summary of the states.
“No problem. We knew the opponents would work hard. Give me what they’ve done so far,” Talia said.
Jasmine gave her a concise account of the contacts they’d made and the issues they raised. Talia typed bullet points into her database as Jasmine spoke.
“Here’s what isn’t generally known. The attorney general in Louisiana is making personal phone calls to key policy makers and congressmen.”
“He’s really interested in this thing.” Talia stopped typing. “But why so top secret?”
“Apparently he wants it that way. Strange, huh? He’s got political plans for a national run I hear. You’d think he’d want to use this issue.”
Talia stared at the computer screen without seeing the words on it. “I’ve got a funny feeling about this guy.”
“I’ve got a funny feeling about the whole thing, T. What the heck is going on down there?” Jasmine said.
“When I find out, I’ll let you know,” Talia answered.
Jasmine gave her more information once Talia retrieved the pages from the fax machine. They spent thirty minutes going over other projects just to update Talia. Once she said good-bye to Jasmine, Talia signed on to the Internet. She wanted to find out more about the coalition. More importantly, she planned to do intense research on Winn Barron. Pete had an account with two database services that could provide detailed information on any subject and anybody. She muttered a curse word when the phone rang only minutes later and kicked her off the Internet.
“Yeah,” Talia said impatiently.
“Talia, Monette’s been hurt bad,” Karl said. “They took her to the hospital in Baton Rouge. The prison infirmary can’t handle it.”
“What happened?” Talia’s stomach churned as she stood.
“The social worker that called said she’d been in a fight with some other inmate.” Karl was breathless. “I’m leavin’ work now.”
“I’ll meet you there.” Talia crossed the room and put on her shoes as she spoke.
“I don’t think you oughta. I’ll call you once I get there.”
“I’m going, Karl.”
“Look, Monette has always said she’d just as soon everybody thinks Miz Rose is your mama. You got a good life,” Karl spoke low into the phone.
“We don’t have time to discuss this now. Which hospital?”
“Earl K. Long Memorial, the charity hospital on Airline Highway. See you in a little bit.”
Mama Rose came out of her bedroom. “I didn’t mean to nap the day away.” Her smile faded when she looked at Talia. “What’s wrong?”
“That was Karl. Monette’s been hurt in a fight at the prison. I’m going to the hospital.” Talia picked up her purse and car keys.
“Lord, have mercy! Is she going to be alright?”
“I don’t know yet.” Talia stopped and took a deep breath.
“I’m coming with you. Just give me ten minutes to get dressed.” Mama Rose started out of the room.
“No way,” Talia said loudly. “The home health nurse will be here at six o’clock. There’s food in the refrigerator. All you have to do is heat it in the microwave. Don’t forget to take your pills at four o’clock.”
“I’m fine. You get going, and don’t worry about me.”
Talia gave her a hug, mostly for her own comfort. “Okay.”
Mama Rose held on to Talia tightly for a few moments then let go. “I’m going to be praying for her.”
“Where are my keys?” Talia turned around in a circle.
“They’re in your hand, sweetie. Drive carefully because you’re upset right now. And call me soon as you can.”
Talia waved once, then got in her rental car. She made the drive to Baton Rouge in twenty minutes, half the time it usually took. The parking lot of the charity hospital was crowded. After a frustrating five minutes, she found an empty space. Large signs pointed the way to the emergency room. Karl had already arrived and was pacing near the wide glass doors. His bleak expression told her the news would be bad.
“How is she?” Talia blurted out before she was close to him.
“She’s in surgery. They say she might be bleeding inside, especially if the knife cut her liver or spleen.”
“Tell me what happened.” Talia tried to calm her hammering heart.
“Let’s go in here.” Karl led her to a small waiting room for families. “I don’t know any details. Just somebody jumped her while she was in the prison laundry.”
“That’s outrageous! We should have more information. I’m going to call the warden’s office right now.” Talia took out her cell phone.
“Talia, slow down.” Karl placed a hand on her arm. “Let’s deal with Monette and whether she pulls through.”
“What do you mean? Of course she’s going to pull through. She’s tough.” Talia heard her own voice rising in hysteria yet couldn’t stop. “Nothing gets Monette down. She’s got a plan for anything!”
Talia paced back and forth in the tiny room. Karl watched her for a few minutes. Suddenly he walked over to her and put his arms around Talia. For the first time in their lives they held each other like family. Both of them started to cry.
“So many years of pain and bein’ separated,” Karl whispered. “I just can’t stand the thought of her dyin’ in prison without us bein’ a real family.”
“No.” Talia cleared her throat. She found a tissue in her purse and wiped her eyes. She offered him one and he took it. “I care what happens to Monette, but we’ll never be a family like other people.”
“Thanksgiving is comin’ up. I was hopin’ she’d get out and we could have dinner at my house.” Karl sniffed. He dabbed at his eyes.
“Her parole is a long shot no matter what Jim Rand says. Besi
des, Monette isn’t the type to sit around a table and be maternal.” Talia wore a melancholy expression as she sat down heavily.
“People change,” Karl insisted.
“People have to want to change,” Talia replied. “Sure, Monette is talking the talk now. But look how many chances she had before.”
“Bet you said the same thing about me.” Karl smiled at her with affection. “Did you think I’d ever be anything but a thug?”
Talia blushed. “Karl, I—”
“Uh-huh. You don’t have to say it.” He patted her shoulder. “Can’t say I could have blamed ya either. At one time I didn’t believe it myself.”
At the moment a man wearing green scrubs walked in followed by a woman. “I’m Dr. Morrison. You’re Ms. Victor’s family?”
“I’m her son,” Karl said before Talia could answer.
“Okay.” He glanced over his shoulder at the woman.
“The social worker at LCIW confirmed it. I’m Shelly Peak with social services here at the hospital,” she said to Talia and Karl.
“Hello. How is Monette?” Talia said.
“The blade nicked a kidney. Then they stabbed her again hard enough to chip a rib and puncture a lung.” Dr. Morrison shook his head.
“Will she be alright?” Talia asked.
“The next twelve to twenty-four hours are critical. If she doesn’t start bleeding internally or if her lung doesn’t collapse, she’ll do pretty well. But she’ll have a long recovery.”
“Lord, please stand by her,” Karl murmured with his head down.
Talia put an arm around his shoulders. “I hear Earl K. Long has the best treatment around, even for an understaffed, underfunded charity hospital.”
“We work hard and have some fine doctors, ma’am.” Dr. Morrison nodded. “Nice meeting y’all. If you have any questions, here’s the number of our unit. If I’m not in, another resident or chief resident can answer your questions.” He glanced at Shelly Peak, then left.
“Your mother will be in intensive care. Visiting hours are very restricted. Only one family member can be present at a time for fifteen minutes,” the social worker said.
Talia looked at him. “You two have gotten close. Monette will feel better if she sees you.”
“Ms. Victor is still in recovery. She can’t have visitors until at least eight o’clock tonight.”
Talia looked at her wristwatch. “Quarter to six. I’ll wait.”
“Me too. I’ll go call LaTrice to tell her what’s goin’ on.”
“Why don’t you both get something to eat and try to unwind?” Ms. Peak looked Talia, then Karl.
“I’m not hungry.” Talia was sure anything she ate would sour in her stomach. “I need to let Mama Rose know how Monette is doing, then I can make some phone calls.” She looked at Karl.
“Come on. At least have some soup. Somethin’ light.” Karl put a hand under her elbow. “You can’t help Monette by hangin’ ’round here makin’ yourself sick.”
Derrick walked in at that moment. Before she realized it, Talia rushed into his arms. He held her close and whispered soothing words in her ear. Ms. Peak made a discreet exit. Karl patted Derrick’s shoulder.
“Thanks for comin’, man.” He gave him a fraternal nod of approval before he left them alone.
Talia shuddered in his arms. “Monette could die.”
“The doctor didn’t say that, did he?”
“No, but she could get worse in the next day.”
“Or she could get better,” Derrick said soothingly.
Talia squeezed her eyes shut. “I’ve been so mean to her. No matter what she’s done, she is my mother.”
“You won’t help Monette with this guilt trip. She needs you to be strong.”
“You’re right. There will be plenty of time for self-pity later.”
“I’m getting funny vibes, and it seems to lead right to Winn Barron.” Derrick wore an intense expression. “I talked to his former investigator Jerome Hines. He’s got something to hide. I don’t think the attack on Monette was just another prison fight.”
Talia wiped her eyes and sat down. A wave of exhaustion washed over her suddenly. “I hate this drama.”
“I’m going to look into the fight at the prison.” Derrick took out a Palm Pilot from the back pocket of his gray chinos.
“As soon as she’s able to talk, I’m going to tell Monette to back off. Whatever game she’s playing has to end.”
“As much as I hate to say it, I think someone is running scared. This attack may mean we’re closing in on the truth. I should stay on Hines.” Derrick made notes. “I’d like to talk to her when she’s up to it, too.”
“Why?” Talia felt a growing ball of rage take root in her chest.
“She’ll know the real deal behind this ‘fight.’ I might smoke something out.” Derrick’s dark eyes gleamed, as if he couldn’t wait to start the chase.
“Let me see if I’ve got this straight.” Talia stood, legs apart and both hands on her hips. “My mother is on death’s door, and you see it as a good sign that you’re making progress?”
“I’ll go back over my contacts and the leads Rand gave me,” he murmured to himself.
Talia could barely contain herself. “You’ll keep digging even now that Monette is in intensive care.”
“Monette wanted my help.” Derrick glanced up at her. He grimaced. “Are you blaming me for what happened?”
“Well, let’s examine the facts. You just said Monette’s attack means you’ve struck a nerve somewhere.” Monette stood toe-to-toe with him. “You figure it out!”
Derrick stared at her with a horrified expression. “Monette was going to make a splash no matter what I did. If I thought for one minute anything I was doing would put her in danger—I was trying to protect her!”
“Oh really? Guess you miscalculated somewhere along the way, sport!” Talia was shouting at him.
“Honey, you’re upset. Anyone would be.” Derrick tried to embrace her again.
She slapped his arms away. “Don’t patronize me.”
“Is there a problem?” Shelly Peak stood in the door of the waiting area.
Talia and Derrick stared at each other as though she hadn’t spoken. All three stood frozen until Derrick put his Palm Pilot away.
Derrick turned to the social worker. “We’ll be fine.”
“If you need anything, to talk or ask questions, have the ER nurse page me. I’ll be in my office.” With one last glance, the short, blond woman left.
“I can’t believe you!” Talia said, her voice lower so as not to attract more attention.
“I was thinking the same thing. I’m trying to help your mama,” Derrick said in a calm voice as though trying to reason with a child.
“She’s got a legal team working on her parole. Jim Rand is the best around.”
“They don’t have funds for a good private investigator,” Derrick countered.
“Isn’t that a conflict with you working for the DA? So you ignore my wishes, put Monette’s neck in a noose, and throw away your career. You don’t go halfway, do you?”
Derrick pointed a forefinger at her nose. “From the moment you hit town you’ve been complaining about not making waves. Monette deserves justice even if it upsets your neat little bourgeois world.”
Talia’s red-hot anger crystallized. “I’d like to give you some credit and chalk this up to blundering knight syndrome.”
“What are you talking about?” Derrick clenched his square jaws.
“I’d prefer to think you really were trying to help. But somehow I have a nasty suspicion you like the excitement.” Talia tucked her Coach purse beneath one arm.
“You went through hard times, and you’ve still got issues. But don’t push it.” Derrick’s handsome eyes darkened like storm clouds. Lightning seemed to flash deep in them.
“Good-bye, Derrick.” Talia turned her back on him.
He closed his huge hand around her right arm and forced her
to face him. “I won’t crawl back to beg for attention. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“What part of good-bye didn’t you get?” Talia glanced down at his hand on her arm.
“I’m through.” Derrick let go of her and walked out.
Talia watched him leave. She forced herself not to follow him out despite her anger. After a few seconds she sat down heavily and covered her face with both hands.
“Excuse me. I’m looking for Ms. Victor’s son.” Shelly Peak said softly.
Talia sat straight and looked up at the social worker. “Karl will be back soon.”
“Dr. Morrison says he can spend a few minutes with her. Are you a relative?” She wore a concerned expression.
“Yes.” Talia rose quickly.
She followed the social worker down through a maze of hallways and into a room. Monette lay sedated on a gurney, her eyes closed. Her caramel complexion looked washed-out and pale. Talia took her hand and held on tightly, willing her to survive.
“Studies show that they respond to a familiar voice even when they’re in a deep sleep,” the social worker said over Talia’s shoulder. She nodded encouragement, then quietly left them alone.
“I’m not sure what to say.” Talia gazed at Monette’s thin outline beneath the white sheet. “I’m sorry, Mama,” she whispered, and started to cry.
Chapter 17
Derrick drove along the highway with a grim expression. He didn’t have to look at his reflection to know it. His facial muscles felt tired from the permanent scowl he’d worn for the last sixteen waking hours. His final scene with Talia had kept him up until two o’clock in the morning. Nothing he did had helped him relax or feel good. Derrick chided himself for being a fool. More than miles and the past stood between them. She wanted him to become a clone in a suit, like that Jarrod character. Well, she could forget it. Not to mention her irrational accusation that he’d put Monette in danger. An unpleasant twinge grabbed his stomach. He pushed away the sickening thought.
He turned up the radio hoping the driving zydeco beat would blast away troubling thoughts. Flashing blue lights appeared in his rearview mirror. He looked down at the speedometer and saw he was going eighty-five miles an hour. He eased his foot off the gas pedal too late.