Rules of Engagement (Lexi Graves Mysteries, 11)

by Camilla Chafer

  "I didn't think about him," I said. "He arrived a few minutes afterwards."

  "Don't worry about it. If you think of anything else, tell me."

  I nodded.

  "Daniel's gone to get you something to eat from the cafeteria," said Mom. "I think we should get you cleaned up before we go upstairs. Here's the nurse to help you."

  "What about everyone else?"

  "You leave everyone to me," she said. "Just think about you. I'll take care of everything else." She and my dad helped me up and directed me out of the small crowd that had gathered before aiming me towards the nurse. I glanced over my shoulder to where they waited as my parents led me away, wondering if I should say something. Was I supposed to give a speech? Or some instructions? I couldn't think of anything to say, except that I was so grateful they were all there.

  "Lexi needs to wash up," said Mom to the nurse and the nurse nodded.

  There was a large toilet cubicle at the end of the corridor and my mother ushered me inside. She grabbed paper towels from the dispenser and ran the faucet, soaking the towels. She took my arms, one at a time, and wiped off the blood. The sink water began to run pink and I closed my eyes, letting my mother do all the work. She dabbed at my neck and cheek and I wondered how much of Solomon's blood was on me. I started to shake, a tear rolling down my cheek and Mom pulled me in for a damp hug. "You are going to be okay," she said softly. "You heard Dr. Forsythe. John was very lucky. He is going to pull through this. Both of you are going to be absolutely fine. We are all here for you, for both of you."

  "Sorry for crying," I sniffled.

  "Nothing to be sorry for. Now breathe," said Mom. "I'm going to count slowly and you're going to breathe according to that count. One...in... Two... out... Three..."

  I hiccupped and forced myself to breathe according to the rhythm of my mother's voice, her tone soft and soothing. When I was calm again, she finished dabbing me off. She smoothed my hair into a low ponytail and took my arm. "Let's go to the ICU now," she said. "You'll feel better when you see that he's okay."

  My parents guided me to the elevators and we stepped inside. Garrett joined us just as the doors began to slide closed.

  "I need to call Anastasia," I said, realizing that someone had to tell Solomon's sister. She worked in PR in Manhattan and was probably at an event or at home, but definitely uninformed of what happened. It wouldn't be the first time someone had to impart news of a shooting to her. Their parents had been killed in a wrong place-wrong time shooting many years ago, leaving Solomon as the guardian not only of her but also their brother. "I need to call Damien too. They will want to be here."

  "I can call them if you want," offered Dad.

  "No, I should," I decided. I looked around for the ICU sign, wondering where it was and why the hospital didn't make it more obvious. Anger bubbled up from inside me. "How is anyone supposed to find anything in here?" I snapped.

  "This way," said Dad, leading us forwards. He left me with Mom and Garrett, hurrying over to talk to the nurse at the desk. He beckoned us to follow him to the next room where he held open the door. I stepped through, my heart thumping, afraid of what I would see.

  Solomon lay on the sole bed, a white sheet tucked over his chest and legs. He looked like he was asleep, and his face was relaxed, except for the tubes and wires that spiraled from his body and connected to some machines that beeped periodically. Thick, white bandages were wrapped around his chest.

  He was alive. Pulse beating, heart-thumping, alive.

  "Have you any idea who would do something like that to him?" asked Garrett. "Any enemies? Anyone at all?"

  "No," I said, riveting my eyes on him. "I have no idea who could possibly want to hurt him."

  Except it wasn't just hurting him. No one voiced it yet, no one articulated the words I was thinking now. Someone didn't just want to hurt Solomon.

  Someone had tried — and thankfully, failed — to murder him.

  Chapter Five

  I stayed with Solomon throughout the night, dozing in the hard, plastic chair until my back grew stiff and my neck ached. Morning light began to shine through the vertical blinds, casting strange shadows across the room. Several times during the long, dark hours, I awoke with a start and a jump as a nurse moved softly around the room, checking his vitals and the chart, recording information I couldn't begin to understand. Once I woke up with a blanket tucked around me, convinced someone was trying to smother me but it was only my Mom, and she stayed, holding my hand until I fell asleep again.

  My eyes opened and I was instantly awake, pushing the blanket away as I reached for Solomon's hand. I held it, pleased to find him warm, but he still didn't respond. His eyes didn't open. He didn't shift positions or murmur a good morning. He didn't even squeeze my hand.

  "How are you feeling?"

  I looked over my shoulder. "Hi, Mom."

  Mom stepped inside, still wearing yesterday's clothes, but she held a bag. "Did you sleep at all?"

  "A little bit."

  "Lily left you a bag of clothes and I got you a toothbrush, toothpaste and deodorant from the gift shop in the lobby in case you wanted to wash up."

  "I..." I looked back at Solomon. How could I leave? What if he woke up and didn't know where he was?

  "I'll stay right here with him, sweetheart."

  I ran my tongue over my teeth. I really needed to brush them. If I were fast, I could be back in less than two minutes. "Thanks, Mom." I got to my feet, my body aching from head to toe. Someone had taken Garrett's oversized socks off my feet and slid on a thick pair of wool socks in my size. A pair of comfortable slippers were next to the chair. The thoughtfulness of the small gestures made my nose hot and my eyes filled with tears.

  "Dad is bringing you breakfast very soon," Mom continued. She placed the bag at the foot of the bed and moved around to the other side, fussing with Solomon's sheets and making sure he was tidy. "After he drops off the food, he's going to pick up Anastasia from the airport."

  "That's..." I struggled to find a word.

  "A relief," supplied Mom. "I know. We don't want you to worry about a thing. All you have to focus on is looking after yourself and staying with John. We have everything else covered. Go wash up. You'll feel better when you've changed out of those scrubs."

  I tightened Alice's cardigan — hastily supplied last night — and pushed my feet into the slippers. "Go," shooed Mom, putting the bag in my hand, and giving me a little push out the door. I stopped over the threshold, looking at the business of the hospital floor. The night staff had changed, all the faces were new but the colored scrubs and white coats were all the same. They didn't pay any attention to me as I watched them scurrying around, clipboards and digital devices in hand. A dark block of color to my right, grabbed my attention.

  "Good morning, ma'am," said the block. No, not a block. A police officer.

  "Hi," I said, frowning at him. "Who are you?"

  "I'm Officer Broderick," he said. "I'm posted here for this shift."

  "Shift?"

  "Lieutenant Graves has Mr. Solomon under twenty-four guard."

  "Oh, thank you," I stammered. Then, I paused, thinking. It was good to know Garrett was taking the shooting so seriously — how could he not? — but I didn't know this officer. I wanted someone I trusted guarding Solomon. Someone who valued his life with their own. If whoever shot him discovered they failed at the job, they might come back for a second try. That thought made me feel sick. "Mom?"

  "Officer Broderick and I will be fine," said Mom. "Go on."

  I glanced back to the room. "I'll be right back."

  "Yes, ma'am," said Officer Broderick.

  I hurried down the corridor, searching for a bathroom. Finding one, I ducked inside and locked the door, panic bubbling in my chest at the sounds from outside. Everything seemed loud and obnoxious but when I closed my eyes, all I could see was Solomon slumped in the door frame. He said something. In the turmoil of last night, I hardly remembered it, but it came to
me now. He told me to go to Maddox.

  What the hell did he mean by that?

  What did Maddox have to do with anything? Or did Maddox know something?

  I grabbed the toothbrush from the small paper bag Mom handed me and squirted out a sliver of toothpaste before brushing my teeth. Next, I washed my face and pulled off the scrubs, dropping them into a heap. I brushed the knots from my hair and tied it up in a high, bouncy ponytail. Lily had packed new underwear in my size, the labels still attached, jeans, a t-shirt and a cute, pink hoody that I remembered lending her a year ago and promptly forgot about. I pulled on the socks and sneakers and rooted around in the side pocket of the bag until I found my cellphone, a charger and my wallet. I knew I'd left those at home so I figured Garrett had either collected them or sent someone to do it. I tucked the phone and wallet into my hoody pockets.

  After zipping up the bag, I grabbed the scrubs, and unlocked the door. I stepped out, using extreme caution with every movement. The police officer still stood outside Solomon's room. The nurses and doctors were walking all around and there were patients too, slowly taking hesitant steps and holding drips and walkers. No one looked too threatening, but I wasn't sure what to look for.

  I dropped the scrubs into a laundry cart next to the bathroom and hurried back to Solomon's room, nodding to Officer Broderick. Mom had taken the chair in the corner and my Dad stood next to her. He smiled when he saw me and passed me a paper bag. I took it and pulled out a still-warm croissant. "Thanks, Dad," I said, tearing off a piece and stuffing it into my mouth. Until that moment, I hadn't realized how hungry I was and when I thought back to my most recent mouthful, I realized the last thing I'd eaten was wedding cake!

  "I hope you don't mind but I spoke to the doctor on duty. He said Solomon was fine all last night and they have upgraded his condition to stable."

  "Okay."

  "I got you one of those smoothies you like," he said, nodding to the small table next to my mom where two large plastic cups waited. "I have to take off to pick up Anastasia from Boston Logan Airport. The plane is scheduled to land on time and I'm sure she'll want to come directly here."

  "That's really nice of you, Dad."

  "Did you speak to their brother? Is he flying in?"

  "No. I called Damien a few times last night but I only got his answering service. I'll call again," I said, reaching for my phone. At once, my mother was out of her seat and pressing me back into mine.

  "Not until you've finished eating," she said. "You won't be any help to anyone if you're tired and hungry. Sit. Eat."

  "Listen to your mother," said Dad. He leaned in and kissed my cheek. "I'll be back soon. Call if you need anything. Anything at all. The whole family is on high alert, ready to help."

  "That's really nice of them."

  "Nice has got nothing to do with it. We're family. This is what we do." Dad waved as he left. I watched him stop to speak to Officer Broderick, and then he was gone.

  "Everyone sends their good wishes," said Mom as I munched the croissant, hardly tasting it. "I sent everyone home last night because there was nothing that anyone could do here."

  "Did you stay?"

  "Of course. I got some sleep just over there," she said, pointing to the nurse's station.

  "Thanks for staying."

  "Where else would I be?" said Mom. She passed me another croissant and motioned for me to eat it. I did, then took a long sip of the smoothie.

  "Did Garrett come by?" I asked.

  "Not yet, but I spoke to him about an hour ago."

  "Did they find who... the man..." I stopped, I had no idea if the shooter were a man. "The person," I finished lamely.

  "They have some leads they're working on."

  "I keep wondering who would do something like that but I just don't know."

  "Has Solomon ever mentioned being worried about anyone or anything?"

  "No! He would tell me if he were. He was in a good mood last night. We saw the wedding planner and we were going to stay home and eat pizza and watch TV. He didn't say anything!"

  "He might not have..."

  "No, he would have. We don't have any secrets between us," I said, cutting my mother off. Except it was a lie. I'd asked Solomon about all kinds of things from his past only for him to change topics or switch the conversation. Now, I had to wonder if he were actively evading any particular question regarding his past. Obviously, that made me wonder why. I didn't have much to hide and what I did was usually mortifyingly embarrassing rather than dangerous. I picked up my phone, ready to avoid anymore of my mother's questions by making a phone call. "I should call his brother again," I said.

  "I'll step out for a few minutes and let you talk."

  I checked my messages. There were several texts from family members and people from the agency, checking in on me and asking what they could do to help. I would get back to them once I worked out what, if anything, I needed from them. There was a flurry of messages from Anastasia telling me she had gotten a flight, another that she was boarding the plane, and a couple more to check on Solomon's progress. I figured since my dad was going to the airport to get her, that he'd also supplied all the answers she needed to know.

  I scrolled through my address book and found Damien's number. I'd never met Solomon's younger brother but I'd seen plenty of photos and spoken to him by phone a couple times. As far as I knew, the Solomon brothers weren't close and he hadn't been out to visit, not that I knew of. Solomon hadn't even been sure that we would meet before we got married and I decided not to press him on the likelihood of Damien even attending our wedding or reception.

  This time, when I called, he answered.

  "Hey, Lexi. I saw several missed calls from you. Everything okay?" he asked.

  "Hi, Damien." I paused, wishing I'd worked out what to say in advance. I decided to proceed with the truth. "Something's happened," I said, my voice starting to break.

  "What happened? Are you okay?" he asked, instantly worried.

  "I'm fine. It's John. He's... he's been injured."

  There was a long silence. "In an accident? What happened?"

  "No." Another deep breath. "He was shot."

  "Shot?" Damien repeated bluntly. "What do you mean? Shot?"

  "Twice in the chest," I said bluntly. "Last night. He's out of surgery now and he's been upgraded to stable condition, but he hasn't woken up yet."

  "I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry. This is terrible. Did they catch the guy?" he asked.

  "No, not yet. I don't even know if it was a guy. I didn't see the shooter."

  "You were with him?"

  "We were at home. Someone rang the doorbell. We were expecting pizza. Solomon answered the door..." I trailed off.

  "I'm so glad you weren't hurt too," said Damien. "Did you tell my sister?"

  "Anastasia is flying in this morning. It might be a good idea if you came too."

  "I'll be there in a couple hours."

  I frowned. "You're not far away?"

  "No. I'm in Boston. I took a job there. I'll drive over."

  "Oh! That's great," I said, audibly surprised. "I didn't know you were visiting. I would have invited you over but..." I trailed off, wondering why Solomon hadn't mentioned Damien visiting the nearest city to us. Perhaps he hadn't known?

  "Give me the details and I'll leave as soon as I can. Don't worry, Lexi. Solomon is going to pull through. He has to."

  My mother opened the door and bustled in as I stuffed the phone into my pocket. "Damien's in Boston," I told her. "He's on his way over here too."

  "It'll be good for Solomon to have his brother and sister here. Oh, here's the doctor now," she said as Dr. Forsythe stepped into the room, smiling at both of us.

  "I'm just going to check Mr. Solomon's vitals," he said, picking up the chart and reading it before turning the page. "He looked good all through the night, which is very positive. No change at the last check. Pulse is strong. Breathing steady. We'll need to do some more tests today."
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  "What kind of tests?" I asked.

  "All standard procedures," said Dr. Forsythe. He replaced the clipboard on the foot rail and took out a small light. He shone it into my eyes and had me follow his finger. "I think you should go home now and get some rest," he said.

  I shook my head. "I'd rather stay here."

  "I know and we can get a cot set up for you, given the circumstances, but there's nothing you can do right now. We're going to kick you out of the room while we conduct some more tests anyway, so you might as well head home, have something to eat that isn't from our cafeteria, and get some uninterrupted rest."

  "I ate already."

  "Plus, Mr. Solomon could do with a few of his personal items. No one likes wearing our less-than-modest hospital gowns," he said kindly. "I can assure you we'll take good care of him."

  "I think you should listen to Dr. Forsythe," said Mom.

  "But..."

  "I'll stay here and sit with Officer Broderick," she said. "I'll call Garrett to pick you up. You'd know what John needs and prefers to wear better than any of us."

  "Listen to your mother," said Dr. Forsythe. "I'll be back in thirty minutes."

  I walked over to Solomon, and picked up his hand, looking at his still form. They were right. There was nothing I could do and as much as I wanted to watch over him, I didn't want to get in Dr. Forsythe's way. Plus, Solomon would want to wake up wearing his own clothing and he would need something to come home in again. "Okay," I agreed.

  Mom stepped out to make a call and when she returned, she said, "Garrett will pick you up down at the main entrance. Will you be okay to walk down there or do you want me to come with you?"

  I nodded, then clarified, "I'll be okay."

  "He'll be here in five minutes." Mom placed both her hands on my shoulders. Reluctantly, I let Solomon's hand slide from mine and allowed Mom to guide me from the room. She walked me to the elevators and hit the button. "Remember," she said as I got inside robotically, my legs working by themselves. "The sooner you go, the sooner you come back."

  "Call me if there's any change," I said as the doors began to close. On the ride down, I began to panic. What if his vitals dropped and I wasn't there? What if he died and I wasn't with him?