by A. R. Case
Daniel was certain DeSantos didn’t have to ask what would happen if they hadn’t found it.
Chapter five
The fraternal brotherhood of police officers was a close knit group. Their members looked out for fellow members. That extended to calling a fellow officer states away to let him know his son had been witness to a dead body. Yes, the brotherhood looked out for each other, and in the process royally screwed Susan Schreiber over.
John Bauer, Sr., called to let her know that the brotherhood had done him a courtesy. It was probably three a.m., or maybe two his time, and he was drunk. So the call sucked, he sucked, and now the yawn splitting her face into two halves, the upper and lower half, sucked. So did this day.
Day shifts weren’t often terrible, afternoons were a little busier with minor sports injuries and the random ache and pain that seemed fine all day, but got worse after the doctor went home. And then there were the homeless that came in for an ailment or two. Some needed a place to stay and got a jump start on getting a bed by faking something. Others wanted painkillers or other pharmaceuticals they could sell for a price since their day panhandling hadn’t turned out as well as they hoped.
In contrast, today was just boring. Which, on little sleep, was Susan’s enemy. She yawned again and tried not to replay the argument from four a.m. back but failed again. She could hear her ex-husband’s voice still echoing in her ears. Adding the late, late night, jolting awake with the phone, fuming over her husband’s lunacy, and then unplugging the phone so he didn’t call back, and subsequently worrying if she’d miss an important call, was enough to kill any sleep she had. So there was no stopping the stereophonic screaming and drunken rant in her head.
Like JB Senior could do a better job of taking care of Jonathan. His son had seen a dead body here. Big whoop. At least he wasn’t the dead body, which Susan couldn’t guarantee if her son had stayed with his father. And for that matter, how had he gotten her number? It was unlisted, and by contacting her he was in violation of his restraining order. If it was still active.
Damn. She needed to check that too. And she was stuck at work. She looked at the phone next to her, then the clock. No lawyers in their offices at this hour. She’d have to make a list and call tomorrow. Grabbing a pen and paper she wrote down, phone number, restraining order, then new phone number with a question mark.
She didn’t want to have to go through that again. God, it was just like before. She felt so helpless and stuck. Worse yet, the people who should be protecting her had just called her ex, which started this mess back up. Crap. Maybe she should call the department chief and file a complaint. At least in a new location, they didn’t know John or his family.
John’s uncle was on the city council. His mother headed the waterfront park festival committee. His father was a decorated veteran of the force. Everywhere she’d turned in Dayton, someone knew and loved John. They commented how they hated to see such a good marriage go to waste.
Good marriage, her ass. John had been a manipulative bastard. He hadn’t cheated on her as far as she knew, but the verbal and mental abuse should have been enough for the divorce. Add the two times he got physically violent and it was done. Period.
She walked out, taking Jonathan with her the first time. John begged her back. For a brief time, it was like when they were dating again. He brought home flowers, called when he was going to be late, but he still didn’t talk with her. Looking back on it, he always talked at her. Their conversations were about his work, his life, his interests. When she wanted to vent her worries, or talk about their life together, or Jonathan’s day, he glazed over or found an excuse to take a call, send an email, or hushed her because he was watching TV, and since his job was so stressful, she should understand why he needed to unwind.
Then it had gotten too stressful, and in the middle of one of their fights he hit her. She locked herself in the bathroom, cringing as he threatened to kick the door in. Each bang of his fist on the door made her flinch. She staged a minor silent protest in front of the mirror. Between flinches, she killed the time looking at the cut on her lip, knowing as a nurse that it really should have a stitch or two because it was going to scar otherwise. Then he left for the bar.
She took Jonathan again, but he was taken away from her the next day by the police. If she didn’t release him into their custody, she’d be charged with kidnapping. So she had to let him go.
It had been a big mistake. When she filed for divorce, John claimed she had abandoned her son. There was no record of John reporting his son missing. Missing that vital piece of paperwork there was also, conveniently no report of the visit where the police took her son away.
Jonathan told her lawyer that he’d been taken back by the police. But he was just a ten-year-old at the time and didn’t know what they’d said to her. She had shielded him from that harsh reality only to have her word questioned by the courts because she didn’t have any evidence to prove her side.
Shaking the memories off, she looked at her hands. They shook. She hadn’t heard his voice in over two years. It had been good for two years. Jonathan was hers. And still she worried that it wasn’t enough. Last night John had threatened he was going to bring Jonathan “home where he belonged.”
Her musing was interrupted with notification of an incoming trauma.
She went from lethargic to alert immediately. The team assembled in Resus. In less than five minutes, her team prepped the room for operating and she worked with the physician on call to assign roles. The victim coming in was a seventeen-year-old with multiple stab wounds. The paramedics did a “scoop and run,” performing stabilization en route so they could deliver him to the ER sooner.
The back-and-forth transmissions en route had already typed the victim, and gave a preliminary triage assessment. Susan and the other RN on the team worked together to re-evaluate and give feedback to the physician. This wasn’t the kid’s first rodeo. Susan found scarring for previous injuries and requested identification to pull up his medical chart if they were in the system. The physician scanned that information and the current results from the preliminary X-ray and scans.
The paramedics responded that there were more victims en route that weren’t as bad. “We had at least a dozen at the scene. This vic was the worst.”
Her fellow nurse, Sandra, was monitoring the incoming feed. “They’re routing the others our way.”
Susan consulted their staffing and reassigned some of the remaining team and brought in one of the on-call RNs. “Take R2, Sandra, we’ll get Kevin in here. Beth, you’re on Triage in the waiting room. They’re sending two more down to assist you.” Her night had gone from stalled to light speed in the typical way of an ER.
The night sped by and before she knew it they were out of surgery with the stab victim, she’d assisted on two other cases, and seen a child with stomach pain and low fever. Her night was almost over. Her charts were filled out. She dug her to-do list from the pile of paperwork. A passing resident struck up a conversation about the upcoming shift change. This was joined by the second resident who had questions on a chart. Susan enlisted her replacement for the second question and finished up the first conversation.
“Did Social Services call you about Kelisha?” Sandra asked. Kelisha being the stomach pain and low fever. Her charts indicated elevated white blood cell counts and possible infection. The girl’s mother couldn’t pay, so they were referred for assistance.
“The liaison is with them now, or should be.” Susan answered.
“I’ll check. It’s almost time for you to go.”
“Thanks Sandra. Did they get security for the transfer of our stab wound?” The victim, according to the police, wasn’t so much the victim as the instigator of this particular instance. He’d knifed their second trauma of the evening and was subsequently jumped by four other kids during the fight in retribution. Their staff had to juggle duties around uniform
s, security guards, and rogue blue and red-shirted teens who wanted to visit with their “homies” in the waiting rooms around the ER. Atlanticare was supposed to be neutral ground, but tonight it hadn’t seemed that way. Typical for the weekend.
Luckily, both victims made it through and were stable at present. It reminded her how close her son had come on Thursday. Last night seemed like days ago now. Before she put the list in her pocket, she wrote down child advocate on her list. Jonathan needed a representative here who would look out for his interests if they were separated. He also needed to know every step she was taking so there would be no question whether she was fighting for him or not. He’d almost come to believe his mother didn’t love him by the time she got him back. That was not ever going to happen again.
She just hoped it would be enough.
Lisa was wiped out so Tony escorted her home. There wasn’t much she could do now. There was no money for Ricky’s burial, so decisions were limited to the cheapest option. No service, no trappings, just the bare bones basics, some of which Tony and Chris chipped in together on for Lisa’s sake. But tracking all that down took a lot of time.
They’d spent the day contacting Ricky’s relatives that Lisa knew. Not many of them cared about what had happened and none of them cared enough to make it their responsibility. It made Tony appreciate everything his brother did to keep their generation together. Their father’s generation had done many things that would have made their family take the same path as Ricky’s but somehow Chris rallied them. And Tony had taken care of the things Chris wouldn’t, or couldn’t do.
Their father and uncle both fell in with the same gang. Not a bike club like Tony rode with on weekends when the weather was nice, this was a full-fledged gang. The Brigands dealt pot, ran coke in the Seventies and Eighties, and provided enforcement services. By the late Eighties, they branched out into worse activities once global gun running entered the scene. Their father and uncle ran the chapter out of AC for a while. But they fell and fell hard. Chris and Tony had been in that fallout. Chris now walked everything straight and narrow, and Tony, while not a criminal, had a different path to walk. That meant sometimes walking a very fine line.
It would be too easy to call on the current chapter for help to protect Lisa, but that would come with a price. There were other options that Tony thought were better. One of them he was trying to convince Lisa about now.
“Really, Philly isn’t that far away. Your mom would be thrilled to see you.”
“I don’t want to have to deal with her while I’m dealing with this.” Lisa said.
“She’s not that bad.”
Lisa glared at him. “Remember how she was when Carlo was sentenced?”
Uncle Carlo, Dad’s almost twin, had been sentenced to fifty years for killing a gang banger. Because the kid had been seventeen, it was a life sentence at first, but the lawyer argued self-defense. It wasn’t. Carlo had hunted this kid and others like him down. His father was already dead by that point, and really, the lawyer would’ve had an easier time pleading temporary insanity. Tony and Chris knew there was no doubt his uncle was sentenced correctly. But Donata, Lisa’s mom, went a little nuts about the whole thing.
She blamed drugs, gangs, Tony’s family, and everyone she could for her husband’s fate. She lost no time divorcing him. When the pressure got to be too much, she cut out of AC for Philly, taking Lisa out of school mid-year and planting her in South Philly without warning. It had screwed up Lisa, too. Maybe that’s why she had fallen for a bad boy like Ricky. Before him, she didn’t last more than a month, maybe three with the clean-cut boys she would be able to take home to mom. Ricky, on the other hand, had almost made it two years. Both Chris and Tony hated that they were talking about moving in together. Her mom met Ricky once. Before she even spoke with him, Donata vowed never to speak to her daughter until, quote: she came to her senses, unquote.
So Tony understood where she was coming from. He still wanted her out of town. Agent Mills had been pretty clear that until they knew for certain that the flash drive that hadn’t turned up with Rick’s body was found or confirmed with his killers, Lisa might still be targeted. They also didn’t know what Rick may have said about the investigation.
While Tony didn’t doubt Ricky’s dedication to Lisa, he also knew guys like Ricky were weak. Under torture, they’d sell their own mother down the river. So he wanted Lisa gone. “At least stay with me or Chris.”
“No offense, but your place is a shoebox, and Chris is anal retentive. Living with either of you would be torture.”
“My place isn’t that small.”
“It’s two rooms, if you count the bathroom.”
“It’s a big room.”
“And when I am PMS-ing where will you hide? The bathroom?”
“Ah. Good point. Chris isn’t that bad.”
“The man lines up his forks on their sides, facing left, in the drawer!” She gestured with her hands to show how they all curved the same way.
“He does?”
“Yes, and if you hang the copper pot the wrong way he freaks out. Seriously, he’s got issues.”
Tony knew that, but wasn’t going to say as much. Chris’s issues aside, he’d rather have her upset than dead.
“Then your mother is the best bet.”
Lisa made a sound of disgust. “You haven’t been listening to me at all! I swear you men are all Neanderthals, you think you can dictate any little last thing because we’re small. At least Rick isn’t that way, he treats me… “ She trailed off as her throat clogged up.
“Aw geez!” Tony pulled off to the side of the road, but it wasn’t soon enough. Lisa was already hyperventilating and trying to gulp in air between sobs.
“He was… he treated me…” She was full out crying by the time Tony unbuckled and slid over straddling the gear shift to reach out to her. She looked up at him, clutching his arms like a vice. “He’s really dead.”
“Yeah pumpkin, he is.”
“Oh God.”
Lisa collapsed onto him then. There wasn’t much Tony could do except hold her and try to ignore how uncomfortable he was. They’d been close as kids because their dads were always together, so they thought the family should hang out together too. Lisa and her little brother were like additional siblings. His mom and Donata didn’t always see eye to eye but did agree on letting the children run as wild as they could as long as they stayed in the yard. That got harder when Tony and Chris got older. Lisa, who should have been tagging along with Gina, their youngest sister, tagged along with them instead. Even then he figured she was practicing her future bad boy affection by letting Tony and Chris drag her into all sorts of trouble. Gina and Barb stayed back and watched Angelo, Gio and Los. Mostly because Los, Carlos, Jr., and Angelo were the same age and always hung out together, and little Gio needed extra help.
The gear was digging into his leg and his back protested being twisted, and as soon as her sobs started to get under control, he began patting her back. “Sh… It’s going to be okay.”
She didn’t believe him and told him so between sobs.
“I know, Lisa… I’m sorry. Someday it might not hurt so bad, promise. I promise.” He repeated. Women were dramatic, he figured. He’d never met a woman he thought he could feel this broken up over. He wasn’t heartless, just didn’t understand how much Lisa let herself get wrapped up in Ricky. He shifted to get the strain off his back.
“I’m hurting you aren’t I?” Lisa let go of his arms and started rubbing out the spots.
“Naw. Just the shifter digging into my leg. You keep crying, okay?”
That made her laugh. “Idiot.” And she punched him in the arm. “I’m done for now.” She added for good measure, “I think so, anyways.”
He handed her some napkins from the glove box so she could wipe her face. “Here. Blow.” And he started to hold a napkin against her
face.
“Ass.” And she punched him again, but took the napkins.
“Better?”
There was one more gulp-sob, but she took a deep shaky breath and let it out slowly. “Yeah.” She looked over at him. “Thanks. Chris wouldn’t have been so nice.”
Tony laughed at that and started the truck back up to get her home.
It was dark by the time they got to her apartment. Tony helped her down and walked up to the door with her, scanning the lot for trouble. As they got to the top of the stairs to her second floor flat, Tony saw her door ajar.
“Wait here.” He almost shoved her back down the stairs in his haste to get her behind him, and she protested.
“Watch where you’re shoving, you jerk. What the fuck?”
She’d seen the door.
“I said, wait here.”
“So you can get stabbed or shot. Not on your life, cousin.”
“Lisa!” He shook her to stop her from side stepping around him. “I mean it. Stay.” He shoved a finger downward indicating the spot where her feet were. “I’m serious.”
Her lip stuck out, but she stayed put long enough that Tony could get a peek inside.
The place was trashed. Nothing, not even the food in her cabinets, had been spared. The stuffing from her chairs was all over the floor, her TV set smashed, and yup, that was her DVD player broken open lying under it. The floor was littered with her things in various pieces. He hated to see what her bedroom looked like, but knowing she was a slob, he figured the destruction might have been similar to what he’d seen so far. “Call 9-1-1.”
“Are they still here?” She asked, fishing out her cell phone.
Tony took one more look around. “I doubt it, but we shouldn’t go in.” He fished in his pocket and pulled out the card that Daniel Mills had given him and dialed the agent. “Dan?” He said when the man answered.
There was a pause then, “Lisa’s place has been trashed. I’m guessing that thing you mentioned wasn’t with him. Just thought you should know.” He turned to Lisa who was still on the phone. “You’re staying with your mother.”