"What did you recommend?" I asked.
"A thorough review of all the security procedures, and changing all the alarm codes and ensuring they continue to do so on a regular basis. We'll examine any pertinent footage from the cameras and I'll post an undercover in there to see if there's any truth to the casing idea. Sometimes paranoia pays off."
"Sounds intensive."
"It will be, but it'll be interesting too. If it turns out that there's nothing to worry about, I might recommend he take a vacation and try to unwind. I won't make tomorrow's meeting but I left all the case files in my office so you can grab them."
"Anything I should know?"
"Nothing obviously difficult or overly involved. Fletcher did the initial interviews so he'll have a better idea of what you could be working with."
"Okay."
"I might not be around much over the next week."
"I will try my best to entertain myself."
"I think you've said that before. Call me when you need a rescue."
I mock gasped. "I don't know what you mean! I'm a professional!"
The doorbell rang.
"That is a very fast pizza. I'll get it," said Solomon. He maneuvered out from where I snuggled and I slid down onto the couch rather than sitting upright. Solomon leaned over and kissed me, long and slow. "You know, I'll always come and rescue you," he said.
"I love you," I whispered.
He groaned as he pushed off the couch, padding in his socked feet over to the door. Smiling happily, I pushed upright and leaned over to the coffee table, pushing the plates apart so the pizza box could fit between them. I reached for the remote control and switched on the TV.
"What the hell?" Solomon said loudly.
Pop! Pop!
"Everything okay?" I called.
Silence.
"Solomon?"
Something loud hit the doorframe before heavy footsteps hurried away.
"Solomon?" I called again. This time, I got up and walked over to the door, a tense sensation building in my stomach.
Solomon leaned against the doorframe, his back to me. "Did he bring the wrong pizza?" I asked. "Not again!"
Solomon turned, his pain-filled eyes fixing on me.
"John?" I asked in a softer tone. A motorcycle squealed past the house.
He looked down, and I followed his gaze to his hand, where he was clutching his chest. He slid down the doorframe, his legs crumpling under him like rubber. Something dark and wet oozed between his fingers. Fat droplets hit the floor, like red dye. His other hand reached for me and I grabbed it, sinking next to him before he hit the floor.
"Sh..." he stammered. "Sh..."
"John?"
"Shot," he groaned.
My head snapped up as I began searching the open doorway. No one was there. I looked back at Solomon, and down at the red liquid soaking his gray shirt. No, not liquid. Blood! Spurting blood. I clasped my hand over his, pressing down, attempting to staunch the flow of red as I screamed for help.
"Le... Lexi," Solomon heaved, his hand curling around my wrist.
"You're okay," I told him. "You're going to be okay."
His eyes closed. I screamed out, crying for help as loudly as I could from where I sat on the floor. Lights flicked on in the windows of the house opposite us.
"Go... go..." He heaved, his breath coming short and fast. "Go to Maddox," he said, his voice barely a whisper. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped against me, a dead weight.
Chapter Four
"Lexi!"
I stopped pacing and looked up at the sound of my name being yelled across the long corridor. "Mom?" I whispered, my mother was suddenly bearing down on me, her arms outstretched. Next to her stood Dad, his face a hard mask as he marched towards me.
"My baby!" screamed Mom, darting forwards and sprinting past Dad. She collided with me, wrapping her arms around me. "Are you okay? Are you all right?" she asked, her voice breathy and gasping as she pulled back and examined me with frightened eyes. A pair of roving hands checked my arms, my head, and my torso for any signs of damage.
"Sorry," I murmured, my stomach rolling again as she pulled me in for another hug. I shivered hard despite her radiant warmth.
"Whatever for?" asked Mom.
"I got blood on you. Sorry," I said, pulling back and pointing to the transfer from my ruined blouse to my mother's sweater. "It's not mine. It's John's," I explained with a sob. All at once, my legs gave out and my mom caught me before I slumped to the floor. "Steve! Help!" she cried, struggling to hold me as my Dad hurried over as fast as he could. She and Dad hooked their arms under mine and half-lifted, half-dragged me to one of the plastic chairs in the corridor of Montgomery General. I wasn't sure how long I'd been here. A few minutes? It seemed like forever. The EMTs parked me here when we arrived with Solomon. Two police officers followed the ambulance and one sat with me now, too young and nervous to be considered any kind of authority.
"Where's John?" asked Dad.
"He's in surgery. He was shot twice in the chest. At point blank range." I blinked, struggling to focus, but I had to. The shivering got worse.
"You," said my dad, turning to the young officer who'd brought me to the hospital and remained with me. "Go get my daughter some water."
"Yes, sir." The officer took off at a fast clip.
"Have they told you anything else?"
"Who?" Focus, Lexi, focus.
"The surgeons," said Dad. "Have they given you any updates?"
"Not yet. They said it was a close call." I burst into tears, sobbing against my dad's shoulder as he held me, patting my back like I were a small child again.
"Did you see who did it?" he asked softly.
"No. We thought it was the pizza delivery guy. Solomon went over to answer the door and I heard a noise that sounded like two pops. I called to him and when he didn't answer, I got up and went to the door and Solomon was just leaning against the frame. I saw a motorcycle go past the house, very fast, then he turned and... and..." I gulped, fearing I was about to vomit. "There was so much blood," I sobbed.
"John is a healthy, strong man," said Dad. "He has been trained in how to survive."
"Did anyone hurt you?" Mom asked. She took the seat next to me and held my hand in hers.
I shook my head. "No. I didn't even see the person. The shooter. I heard some footsteps and that was it."
More footsteps approached and I disengaged myself from my parents, looking up in case it was the surgeon. Instead, my oldest brother, Garrett, a lieutenant in the homicide division of Montgomery Police Department was there. He came to a stop in front of me. He hadn’t learned yet how to mask his emotions and keep them from showing on his face like our father did. Now, his eyes burned with anger and concern. Behind him, the young officer returned with a bottle of water, hesitating to offer it to me. I held out my hand and he put the bottle in it without a word, retreating again to stand a few paces behind Garrett.
"Traci was working dispatch when she heard your address and report of a shooting," he said. "I got here as fast as I could. What the hell happened?"
"Someone shot John," said Dad. "He's in surgery now. We don't know anymore than that."
"Okay," said Garrett, nodding as he processed that. "Okay. Are you okay, Lexi?"
"Yes," I said.
"Did you get checked out?"
"No."
"Officer Krakow, go get a doctor to check out my sister. Now!" he barked and the young officer took off again. "You need to have someone look you over. You're riding on adrenaline and you might be going into shock."
"The shooter was gone by the time I got to the door," I told him, "I'm not shot. I'm just... I..." I didn't know what I was but the rational part of me, the part that I clung to most desperately now, decided he was right, I must have been in shock. As I agreed with Garrett’s prognosis, I began to shiver harder. Mom shrugged off her jacket and draped it around my shoulders.
"I'll get blood all over th
is too," I mumbled.
"It’s not important. I'll buy a new one," she said, wrapping an arm around me again, and hugging me into the warmth of her jacket while my teeth chattered.
"I'm going to get an update from the surgeon. I'll be right back," said Garrett. He took off before I could ask what he needed an update for. When he came back a few minutes later, he knelt in front of me and took my hands.
I raised my eyes to his and wondered if this was the moment when my world ended. If I asked, I would know, one way or the other. If I didn't ask, he might still be okay. He would remain forever alive in that moment.
"John is still in surgery," he said quickly, taking the options from me. "They removed one bullet already and they're working on the other one."
"That's good, isn't it?" I asked, looking from him to my parents. They all nodded.
"Lexi, some officers are on their way. They wish to speak to you. You need to tell them all the details of everything that happened tonight, no matter how insignificant. It's important that you tell them everything you heard, and saw," said Garrett. "I'll sit with you the whole time."
I nodded. "Okay."
"They'll need to bag your clothes too."
"I won't have anything to wear."
"I'll get you some scrubs to put on for now."
"But I didn't see anything."
"That's okay. We’ve got units canvassing all your neighbors," Garrett told me. "We'll find out what happened, I promise."
"Police officers aren't supposed to make promises," I said, a wave of weariness hitting me.
"I am on this one."
"Lexi!"
Garrett rocked back, standing as we all turned at hearing the shriek. Lily sprinted towards us, her husband, Jord, following her. Jord was the youngest of my brothers and a detective in the burglary division. He was currently dressed in workout gear with baby Poppy strapped to his chest. "What happened?" Lily asked. "Why did it happen? Who did it? I'll kill them!"
"No one heard her say that," said Jord. "You can't say that, Lily."
"I. Will. Kill. Them," hissed Lily.
"Someone will fill you in with all the facts in a minute," said Garrett, beckoning to the two plain clothes officers who arrived right after them, along with Officer Krakow. "Lexi, follow me. We need to get you checked out and then we need to talk."
"But you're okay?" asked Lily, reaching for me as I stood up. Panic contorted her face.
"I think so," I said.
She made a move to hug me but Garrett held her back with one hand. "Lexi needs to change her clothes," he said. "Wait here, all of you, and we'll be back soon. Lexi, let's go." Garrett helped me up and guided me, placing one hand on my elbow, to a cubicle. He deposited a set of pink scrubs and a big, plastic bag on the narrow hospital bed and told me to deposit all of my clothes into the bag.
"All of them?" I asked.
"Everything."
"For evidence," I said, although I didn't need to. Garrett wanted to preserve any evidence that might be useful in court later. But did he also want to rule me out as a suspect right away? "I didn't shoot Solomon," I said. "I wouldn't do that."
"I know, and collecting your clothes will mean no one can accuse you of it. It's not just that though, you might have picked up some trace evidence that we don't know about yet. Come out when you're all done." He pulled the curtain around me.
I stripped, quickly and carefully, folding my clothes and inserting them into the bag. I pulled on the scrubs, and tried to ignore the splashes of blood on my hands and wrists. There was nowhere for me to wash them. I pulled back the curtain, shivering again in the thin cotton fabric. Garrett handed me a pair of large men's socks, and they were still warm. "These are yours, aren't they?" I asked.
He nodded. "I couldn't find anything for your feet yet. Roll them up a couple times and they'll be okay until we find something better. How are you feeling?"
"I have no idea."
"This is Dr. Granger. She's going to check you over." Garrett stood outside and a young doctor stepped in and pulled the curtain closed.
"This won't take very long," she said.
"Do whatever you need to do," I told her, drifting away in my mind while she checked my pulse and blood pressure, listened to my heart and gave me a cursory exam for injuries. When she was done, she wrapped her stethoscope around her neck. "I can prescribe something to calm you down," she said. "I know you've been through a lot tonight."
"I don't want anything, but thank you," I told her, beginning to shiver again. If I were medicated, or asleep, I couldn't tell anyone anything. The only power I had right now was to describe what happened as fast as I could and try to get the investigation jump-started. The longer it took, the more distance the shooter could put between us and them.
"If you change your mind, send someone to find me and I'll come back," she said, smiling warmly before she left.
"We need to do the interview now," said Garrett. "Ready?"
I looked up and tried not to cry. Instead, I nodded.
~
It was an hour before I could return to my family. By the time I got there, escorted by Garrett who, true to his word, remained with me throughout the interview, it seemed everyone had assembled. Garrett's wife, Traci, was there, along with my middle brother, Daniel, and his wife, Alice, who was still dressed in her nursing scrubs so I figured she must have just finished her shift. Serena and Delgado were there too. Serena sat with my mom while Delgado stood at the window, his hands thrust into his pockets, staring at the street. I don't think I'd ever seen him so upset.
Slumping into the chair between my parents, I rolled my head back against the wall, tipping my chin up and closing my eyes, wishing I could rest for a moment. No one asked me a thing. The whole corridor was silent.
I was in a strange state of not knowing if my fiancé were dead or alive. Like before, if I asked anyone, they might tell me he was dead. If I didn't, I was stuck in the awful limbo of not knowing. So I stayed in my purgatory, not daring to ask, and not wanting to hear the worst. Instead, I listened intently to what was going on around me. Someone was breathing hard near me. There was a beep of a text message. A phone rang and was quickly silenced. Two people, men, talked a short distance away. A rustle of a jacket. A machine beeping. Someone shouted. Then, footsteps.
When the footsteps stopped in front of me, I opened my eyes. A man in a white coat stood in front of me.
This was the moment.
My heart skipped a beat.
"Ms. Graves?" he asked.
"Yes."
"I'm Dr. Forsythe. I'm your fiancé's surgeon and you're listed as his emergency contact."
"Yes," I said again, holding my breath. I couldn't think of any words to say.
"Your fiancé is out of surgery and currently in stable but critical condition. We've taken him to the ICU, that's the Intensive Care Unit, so his recovery can be closely monitored. The surgery was difficult but successful."
"What happened? I mean, what... I..." I trailed off, unsure what I wanted to ask. Did I need to hear the details of the surgery? Or should I ask about his chances of recovery?
"We removed two bullets from Mr. Solomon's chest. One was relatively easy to remove although it nicked a large vein that we had to repair. The second bullet, however, was lodged very close to his heart. A quarter inch to the right and he wouldn't have made it. He's extremely lucky. There was a huge strain on his heart during the procedure and his heart stopped once. We managed to restart if within mere seconds and we’re giving it a high probability that no damage was caused by that event."
"That's great news," said Dad, squeezing my hand.
"When will he wake up?" I was dying to know.
Dr. Forsythe blinked, hesitated, and my breath caught again. "He will wake up?" I pressed.
"I can't say exactly when. Although the surgery was successful, Mr. Solomon is in a coma now. His body needs some time to recover."
"But he will recover?" I asked.
"I'l
l have some more information for you soon," said Dr. Forsythe, carefully evading the question, "but I am hopeful of a good prognosis. I'll send one of my nurses to take you to him. Ms. Graves, your fiancé is probably the luckiest man in the world tonight."
"Thank you." I watched him walking away, then I blew out a breath. Now that I knew the truth, I felt numb. Solomon was still alive but Dr. Forsythe was very careful not to make any guarantees about when he would wake up, or even if he would. What if it were weeks, or months, or even years? How could I bear to watch his life passing while he was trapped hopelessly in a nether world, not quite here, but definitely not dead either?
"Do you want to go and see him?" asked Mom.
I nodded, mutely.
"We can all come, or just me. Tell me what you want us to do," she inquired.
"I need some clothes," I said, pointing at my feet. "I'm wearing Garrett's socks."
"And they look very nice on you too," said Mom, patting my hand.
"I'll go to your house and get you some clothes," said Lily. From the corner of my eye, I saw Garrett shaking his head. "I'll go to my house and get some of your clothes," she corrected. "I must have forgotten to return at least fifteen or more of your items."
"Thank you."
"You can rely on me to ensure you will be fashionably coordinated," said Lily.
"I'll get you something warm to wear from my locker," said Alice. "I'll be back in ten minutes."
"What about food? You must be hungry," said Dad.
"I can pick up something from the cafeteria," said Daniel.
"Or I can get you a pizza. How about going to Monty's Slices?" said Serena, cajoling.
My chin wobbled and tears pricked my eyes. "That's what we ordered for takeout." Serena winced.
"Did you see the delivery driver?" asked Garrett.
I nodded. "He came just after Solomon was shot. I don't know what happened to him." My whole focus was centered on Solomon. I remembered the delivery driver arriving, a pizza box in his hand, but I don't know what happened to it or how long he stuck around.
"I'll track him down," said Garrett. "You didn't mention him in the interview."
Rules of Engagement (Lexi Graves Mysteries, 11) Page 4