“Piper.” My name is a breath of excitement from my left. Mariano jumps to his feet with enviable ease, a smile lighting his face. “You’re awake.”
The words scratch their way out of my throat. “Is there water?”
“I’ll get you some. Be right back.”
When Mariano seems to return half a second later, I realize I had dozed off.
He fumbles for the crank on the bed. “Let me help you sit up.”
My body groans in protest, but it’s worth it when the water washes over my tongue and down my throat.
“Not too much, now,” Mariano cautions. “The nurse is calling your house, and then she’ll bring in some broth. Joyce and your brothers were here all day, but I convinced them to let me take the night shift.”
All day? “How long have I been asleep?”
“Over twenty-four hours. The doctor gave you some pretty strong stuff.” Mariano’s fingertips brush back my hair. “You were so brave, Piper. I’m so sorry for how long it took me to get to you.”
“How did you find me in the first place? You seemed to magically appear. I thought I might be dreaming you.”
“I was at your house when your friend Johnny Walker called. He found your locket, recognized the picture of Lydia, and called.” Mariano’s smile is wry. “He’d kept your number all these weeks. You make an impression.”
“But how did he find it?”
“Alana—or Maeve, actually—lives above his lunchroom.” Mariano’s voice softens. “She was there that day. Do you remember? The waitress who dropped the mugs.”
Yes. I see the moment clearly for the first time. Alana in her Johnny’s Lunchroom outfit. Her long frame crouched over the ceramics she shattered when Johnny said Lydia’s name. The sorrow in her eyes when she said she was sorry about my friend.
“You wouldn’t expect it of him, but Johnny was near tears tonight after we found you. He said he thinks he even saw Alana take Lydia up to her apartment. Said she was carrying her up, unconscious. Alana claimed she was her niece from Kansas, who didn’t know how to handle Chicago booze. I guess he was pretty ossified himself that night. Didn’t put it all together until he found your locket in the stairwell, called your house, and learned Alana had taken you.”
“But why were you at my house? How did you even know?”
“I hear our sleeping beauty is awake,” sings a nurse as she bustles into the room. She carries a tray to the bedside, and smiles down at me. “You’ve given us all quite a scare. Your friend has been asking if you’re awake every time I go in there.”
“My friend?”
“Emma Crane,” Mariano says. “She woke up from surgery this afternoon.”
I didn’t know I had the energy for it, but for the first time in my life, I burst into tears of joy.
“It was the most surreal experience I’ve ever had.” Emma’s cheeks are flushed as she recounts the details of that afternoon. “I must have been out cold for a bit, because when I woke up, you were gone.”
I shudder involuntarily, and my body rewards me with a spike of pain in my two cracked ribs. Mariano frowns at me in the overly concerned way I’ve become accustomed to these last few days in the hospital, and I do my best to put on a smile.
It must be convincing enough, because Mariano turns back to Emma. “Fainting probably saved your life.”
“Probably. Alana was clearly not in her right mind.”
Leave it to Emma Crane to describe a woman wielding a gun in such delicate terms.
“From our understanding, Maeve hasn’t been in her right mind for some time.” Mariano pulls his notebook from his breast pocket and flips it open. “She’s one of thirteen children born to a farmer out in Liberal, Kansas. Her father was a drinker, and her mother had a reputation around town. Maeve and her older sister escaped to Kansas City in their late teens to teach. Maeve met Alan Burk, the oldest son of small-time mobster Jim Burk, and they married pretty quickly.
“They had only been married a few months when Alan died during a delivery. The family blamed their employee, Jacob Dunn, who we knew as Matthew, for his death. Jacob knew enough to get out of town and to keep a low profile. From what we’ve been able to piece together so far—Maeve’s older sister has been very helpful—Maeve went a little crazy after losing Alan. She lost the baby she was carrying, and fixated on revenge. She’s spent this last year trying to find Matthew and make him pay.”
A silence falls over the room, and Mariano tucks his notebook back into his pocket.
Pain pokes at my side, and I shift my weight. “And Lydia and Emma just got caught in the crossfire.”
“You too, Piper,” Emma says. “She did quite a bit of damage to you too.”
“She didn’t shoot me.”
“Well, she didn’t drag my face along the gravel and haul me off in her car.”
My fingers brush the thick bandage covering most of my right cheek. “Anyway. You were telling a story. You had just woken up from being shot.”
“Oh, right. In retrospect, it seems like I should have been thinking about the pain, but I really wasn’t. It was like I hadn’t discovered it yet, or something.” Emma chuckles, and then flinches and repositions herself in her wheelchair. “I figured it out when I tried to get up and go to the telephone, though. I’m just glad she decided to shoot me in your father’s office, where the telephone was ten feet away, because even that took forever.”
“Very considerate of her,” Mariano says drily.
“I called Jeremiah, who thought you and I were playing a prank on him. I swear, I thought I’d never convince him to come over.”
“You went to return her handbag,” Jeremiah’s voice breaks in from the doorway. “What was I supposed to think?”
In many ways, he looks like his normal self. Fine-tailored suit, hat slightly askew, a smile on his lips. But there are shadows under his eyes, and in general he seems rather . . . wilted.
He strolls into the room, hands in his pockets. “I hope you don’t mind the intrusion. Your nurse told me you were off visiting. She asked me to bring you back upstairs, actually.” He nods at me. “Nice to see you awake, Miss Sail.” His gaze flits to Mariano. “Detective.”
“Mr. Crane.”
Jeremiah’s gaze settles on me again. “How are you feeling?”
“Like one big bandage.”
“You’re interrupting me, Jeremiah.” Emma’s tone is teasing. “And I can’t go back upstairs until I’ve told Piper the whole story.”
Jeremiah makes a sweeping motion with his hand, indicative of “go on,” and perches on the empty cot beside mine.
“So I told Jeremiah as much of what happened as I could, and then I must have blacked out or something. Because when I woke up, Jeremiah was in the house, calling for me.”
“Your dog is worthless, by the way,” Jeremiah says to me. “He just cowered behind a chair until Mariano showed up.”
I think of the surprise and pain on Alana’s face when Sidekick took hold of her ankle. “He’s not worthless.”
“We found Mariano’s card in your handbag and called him.” Emma leans her head against the edge of her wheelchair, her eyes noticeably heavier than they were twenty minutes ago, when the nurse brought her down. “And then we called Dr. LeVine over, since I was bleeding quite a bit. I feel terrible about your father’s rug.”
“Emma, I promise we do not care at all about the rug.”
“We’ll replace it.”
I roll my eyes. “My brother’s crazy girlfriend shot you. There is no need to replace the rug that you bled on in the process.”
She yawns. “I don’t remember much after Dr. LeVine came over.”
“He stopped the bleeding, and then we came into the hospital for surgery.” Jeremiah has his hat in his hands, and he rotates it clockwise. Then counterclockwise. “Mariano and his partner were at the house before we left, trying to get a hold of your brother or your housekeeper.”
“It was a very long hour before Nick finally
came home.” Mariano’s eyes hold traces of remembered panic. “And an even longer few hours before Johnny called.”
Nick had hardly left the hospital these last few days. Guilt over letting Alana into our lives seems to be eating him up, no matter how many times I’ve told him he isn’t responsible for her actions.
“She deceived us all, Nick,” I had told him. “I had my doubts about her, sure, but I never thought she was this.”
“I’m your big brother.” Tears filled his eyes—so blue, like Father’s. “What more important job do I have than to protect you?”
No matter what I say, he seems unwilling to be comforted. Always so stubborn.
“So, she’s locked up now? Alana?” Jeremiah’s question draws me back to the conversation.
“She is.” Mariano’s voice is brusque—all business. “No bail.”
“What do you think will happen to her?”
Mariano smiles, allowing a beat of silence. “No comment, Mr. Crane.”
Jeremiah’s returned smile lacks its usual luster. “You can’t blame a newspaper man for trying.” He glances at Emma, whose eyes are closed. “I had better get her back upstairs in bed.”
“I’m only resting my eyes,” Emma says. “I don’t sleep well at night.”
I shudder. Do I ever understand that. “Neither do I.”
Mariano’s hand is warm on mine. “You’re safe, Piper. I promise.”
But it seems impossible that I’ll ever feel that way again.
“We’ll see you later.” Jeremiah grips the back of Emma’s wheelchair. “Any idea when you’ll be released?”
“Hopefully tomorrow. But even then, it sounds like I won’t be able to move from the couch.”
Mariano huffs. “Do you want your broken ribs to heal properly, or no?”
“Oh, did you see the article in the paper on Robbie?” Emma smiles drowsily. “Didn’t he look handsome?”
“I did. Very well written.” I look to Jeremiah. “It’s as if somebody had an in with Mr. Thomas.”
Jeremiah barely even smiles at the compliment.
“One of the largest raids ever.” Even in her sleepy state, Emma beams with pride. “I thought I would fall over from shock when I learned he had known Matthew in Kansas City. Or Jacob, I guess. What are we supposed to call him?”
My head had been spinning over that knowledge too. That Robbie had been the agent who infiltrated the Burk family. That his raid in Kansas City had set all this in motion. It’s dangerous for me to think on it too long. I like Robbie. I don’t want to feel resentful toward him.
Emma yawns behind her hand. “His picture’s been splashed everywhere. I imagine his days of being undercover with the bureau are over. Not that I mind.”
“He should be very proud.” I haven’t told Emma yet that I had a front-row seat when the raid at the Finnegans’ began. That I received a good conk on the head as Alana squealed out of there. “Did you tell him about our stakeout?”
She giggles, and then winces and rubs where she was shot. “I did. He said he’ll have to be more careful around you in the future.”
“Well, fortunately for Robbie, my investigating days are over.”
Emma’s eyes widen as if I’ve said something truly shocking. “Oh, Piper! Don’t say that.”
“Why ever not? I’ve had enough excitement to last me a lifetime.”
“You haven’t either. You can hardly sit still in that hospital bed of yours.”
“That’s because they barely allow me to feed myself.”
Emma gives me a look that intimates she knows me better than that. “I don’t care what you say. I’ll go on record as stating that I don’t think Chicago’s underbelly has seen the last of Piper Sail.”
“Say good-bye, Emma.” Jeremiah inches her chair forward. “That cute nurse will have my head if I don’t get you back upstairs.”
Emma shakes her head—can you believe this guy?—but waves as Jeremiah rolls her out of the room.
“What will happen now with the Finnegans?” I ask when they’re out of eyesight.
“What always happens. Patrick paid the fine for first-time Volstead Act violation and is already out.”
Of course he is. I fumble with my tangled blankets. “This blasted city.”
“I know.”
“At the end of the day, how much can one person really do?”
Mariano watches me a moment before taking my hand between his. “Two people, right? You and me.”
My heart foxtrots inside my chest under his gaze. “Right. You and me.”
Mariano stands and fits his homburg onto his head. “I gotta get back to the office. Joyce will be here soon, though.”
I force myself to say a calm, “Okay,” as if the idea of being left alone and so defenseless in my hospital bed doesn’t terrify me.
But Mariano hears it anyway. He squeezes my hand. “You’re safe.”
“I don’t feel safe.”
“But you are. Maeve is behind bars. You can rest, Piper.”
“What about Patrick Finnegan?” I shiver at the memory of his voice. “You said yourself, he just paid his fine and walked.”
Mariano shakes his head. “Are you kidding me? Did you read Jeremiah’s article? Patrick Finnegan is probably balled up in a corner terrified that you’re coming after him with how fierce you sounded.”
I feel a smile inching out, and bite it back before it can stretch the bandage on my cheek. “Do you think we could go after him? I heard him say plain and clear that they helped Maeve. I suppose it’s my word against his, but it seems like there must be evidence lying around somewhere.”
“Let’s table that conversation until you’re out of the hospital, shall we?” Mariano brushes his lips over my forehead. “Nice to have you back, Detective Sail.”
When he kisses me again, for a lovely bubble of time all the fear and pain is eclipsed by the one thing that is strong enough to conquer all.
“I really am fine, Nick. Truly.” I lean forward so he can position the second pillow he insisted on behind my back. I’m happy to finally be home, but if Nick doesn’t stop hovering . . .
“Another pillow isn’t going to hurt.” Nick takes a step back and frowns. “Are you sure you don’t want a heavier blanket?”
“I really am fine.” I tuck the blanket around me. “If I get cold, Joyce will be here to help.”
“I’ll grab one, just in case. Then if you do get cold . . .” Nick’s voice trails off along with him down the hall.
“He’s insufferable,” I say to Joyce as she bustles into the room with a lunch tray, Sidekick at her heels.
“Oh, let him make a fuss over you. He’s been so antsy for you to get home.”
“He’s going to be late picking up Walter if he keeps fetching me things.”
“I’m as anxious as you, but Walter’s train still doesn’t come in for another half hour. Nick has plenty of time.”
“Walter today. Father and Jane next week.” No matter how much I had insisted they finish out their honeymoon, Father and Jane had started for home as soon as word had reached them. “This house is going to be crowded again very soon.”
“I can’t wait.” Joyce settles the tray on my lap. “It’s much calmer around here when you have plenty of people to keep eyes on you.”
Nick rushes in with the other blanket. “Now, I’ll put this right here on the back of the couch, Pippy. Can you think of anything else you need?”
“A face that doesn’t have five pounds of bandages on it? Ribs that aren’t broken?”
Instead of huffing about my lack of appreciation, Nick smiles affectionately. “Love you, little sister. I’ll be back with Walter as soon as I can.”
Joyce watches him go with a fond expression. “He cares about you so much.”
“Right now, he does, anyway. And I’ll take it.” I lift my spoon. “Chicken and noodles. I’m spoiled.”
“I thought you could use some of your mother’s cooking.” Joyce pulls over a foo
tstool and draws the box of clean bandages onto her lap.
“Oh, Joyce, not now. You just gave me food, for heaven’s sake.”
“It’s either now or right after Walter gets home, my dear.”
I lay back with a gusty sigh.
My face and shoulders are battered from some quality time with the asphalt in our back alley, which must have happened when Alana dragged me to her car. Apparently, the doctor spent a decent amount of time digging grit and pebbles out of my cheek. Praise God that I was unconscious for that. The first time Joyce changed my bandages, she cried.
But today, her eyes are dry, happy even, as she peels off the tape and gauze. “And your father has done everything short of crawling out of his own skin to get back here. He couldn’t be more proud of how you handled yourself, I’m sure. Your mama would be proud too.”
I can’t help snorting, which is quickly followed by a wince at the spark of pain in my ribs. “Oh, sure. I’m what every mother would want for a daughter. I can’t sew, I’m not dainty, I’m loud, I—”
“You”—Joyce clasps my chin in her doughy hand—“are exactly who you’re supposed to be, and that’s why we love you. Your mama wouldn’t have wanted you to be one of those prissy ladies, anyway. She wasn’t one herself.”
“She wasn’t? She spent so much energy trying to get me to sit up straight and not run everywhere.”
“She was a lady, mind you.” Joyce smooths the edges of the bandage. “But your father speaks of a woman who laughed loud and lived life. Just like you, Piper.” She snaps shut the bandage box and returns it under the end table. “I’ll let you enjoy your lunch now.”
I’m halfway done with my lunch, my mind floating listlessly from topic to topic, when the shrill ring of the telephone breaks into my thoughts. I reach behind me for the candlestick phone and pull it onto my lap. “Sail residence.”
“Is Miss Sail available?”
The male voice makes my heart stammer. Matthew. “This is Piper.”
“Do you recognize the voice of an old friend?”
“I do.”
“I hoped so. I’m at a phone booth and don’t have much money, but I had to call. I just saw an old issue of the Daily Chicagoan. It was like a nightmare come to life, seeing Maeve’s picture with yours.”
The Lost Girl of Astor Street Page 29