by A. R. Case
“Here. He started to hold out his hand, but hung up on the IV’s and bandages.
She scooted close to him half sitting on the edge of the bed. She turned and fixed something, pulling the guard rail down in seconds. “That’s better.”
“You’re good at that.”
She laughed. “Yeah, I might need to go into professional nursing or something.”
He giggled. No shit giggled. Damn painkillers. “Funny.
She stroked his forehead again. “Poor baby.”
“More.”
She stopped. “Phone. work.”
“Oh yeah…lemme…”
Susan held it up and Tony used his left hand to swipe in the unlock code.
“Two calls.” She tapped on the message icon and held the phone between them.
“You could put it on speaker.” he slurred as the first message was announced.
“Boots, Turbo says Jon’s covered.” That was it. The prompt to save or delete played.
“Delete it. Kay?” Susan hit the correct number on the screen. The next message was announced with an Ohio area code.
“Joey didn’t go to jail. Leo says hi.” The voice was gruff.
“Delete that one too.”
Tony let his head fall farther into the pillow.
“Is Jonathan okay?”
He couldn’t open his eyes to answer Susan’s question. “He’s fine. Cops are with him.”
“How do you know?”
“Leo.” Tony’s head spun again and he didn’t know if he liked it better with his eyes open or shut. “Feel sick.”
She maneuvered him up with another pillow. “You have any allergies to opiates?”
“No clue.” His stomach really didn’t like the new position much. He heard her shuffling then a cool cloth hit his head and he felt something cold against his arm. “What’s that?”
He shifted his arm.
“Bed pan.”
“Ew.”
“Yeah, you’re lucky I love you.”
That got him to open at least one eye. “Love you too.”
Her kiss felt a lot better on his forehead than the cloth, but both were good.
Tony had found a comfortable position and was sleeping again. The phone she’d set to the side vibrated a couple of times. Susan swiped to the left like Tony had. One new message was waiting on Tony’s phone.
She tapped the icon to listen to it.
“Tony, it’s me, Jonathan.” Her son’s voice sounded hoarse and a bit higher than usual. “Dad’s in ICU and I can’t get a hold of Mom. I tried the hospital but it isn’t her shift, so…” He let it trail off a bit. “Anyways, some dude shot up Dad’s. He got the guy but got shot too. If you see her, or know where she is, can she call? This is Dad’s phone so just call it back, I’ve got it.”
Susan fumbled with the phone. She had no idea how to work it, but luckily the machine voice told her to hit a number to return the call.
Her hands were shaking as she walked away from Tony’s bed.
“Tony?” Her son’s voice sounded normal, but tired.
“Jonathan? Are you okay?”
“Mom.” If she could see his face, she’d know he was smiling just by that tone. “I’m okay.”
“What happened?”
“Dad was shot twice. Once in the leg and once in the lung. They got him stable for now. He’s in surgery. There’s two cops here with me and more probably coming. I’m at the hospital.”
“They say anything to you about status?”
“The nurse said he’s going to pull through. I guess the bullet went low through the chest. Missed most of the important stuff. She said he’s lucky.”
“Who’s his surgeon, do you know?”
“That old dude with the Ferrari, remember him?”
Dr. Klein. Good surgeon, one of the best in her memory; midlife crisis or just plain in love with fast cars. His wife had thought it was a hoot, she’d bought a red purse to match the car.
“Hey Mom? Tell Tony his friends here saved Dad’s life.”
“What?”
“Tony had guys watching the house. They got here before the cops even. One kept Dad from bleeding out. Former vet medic he said. They called the ambulance.”
Susan glanced back at the man asleep in the hospital bed. He’d saved her life too. The police had started taking the homeless guy into custody, but Mills and the FBI took him. He was talking up a storm when Susan last saw him. She’d been stranded in the parking lot. Tony was whisked into surgery, her attacker was gone, the police huddled around taking photos. And Mills tore off after the FBI had the guy in the van they’d arrived in.
That was over two hours ago.
“It’s five AM, Mom.” Jonathan’s tone was teasing.
“Tony’s in the hospital too.”
“Wait, what? Mom?”
“He waited for me after my shift. A guy was in the parking lot. He’s going to be okay, but …” She trailed off for a moment. “He saved us both tonight.”
“Mom, I know you like him, right?”
“Yeah.” It was just over a whisper.
“Kay. So if he asks, you marry him, capisce?”
She laughed. “Capisce? Since when does my little man say capisce?”
“Geesh mom. No little man shit.”
“Language.”
Her son laughed. Laughed at her. Maybe testosterone wasn’t a good thing. She told him her thoughts on that.
“Hang on, Doc’s out.”
She heard muted conversation in the background, then Jonathan again.
“He’s out of surgery. They got everything. He’s resting now. They said I can’t go in and sit with him because I’m under 18, but Jim, Dad’s partner is there. His wife is going to take me to their place. Is that okay, Mom?”
“Yes. I…”
A glance at Tony, still asleep. Her heart was torn in two. “... I should see about getting to Dayton.”
Her son needed her, and Tony had saved her life. He’d be in the hospital at least two more days while they monitored the surgery results, then casted the hand so the tendon damage they’d repaired could heal. A week ago there would have been no question, and she’d be in her car right now, driving to Ohio.
A week ago her heart hurt so much. Four hours ago it had still hurt. Now it didn’t. Now it felt full, but torn in half. “I’ll start the trip once I’ve had a chance to tell Tony what’s going on, and make arrangements to take off work. Will you be okay until then?”
“Hang on.” She heard her son relaying the situation here to the people there, then making plans to stay with Jim’s wife until she could arrive. A voice she didn’t recognize came on the line.
“Hi, Susan? This is Jenny, Jim’s wife. We got this until you’re able to get here. Get some sleep, don’t drive tired, okay?”
“I won’t. Thank you.”
She put Jonathan back on the phone. “I love you Mom. Dad’s going to be okay. I’ll see you when you get here. Say hi to Tony for me and tell him to get better, okay?”
She would.
The phone went dark in her hand. There was an errant curl covering Tony’s brow. She brushed it into place and let her hand linger on his skin. Then she set up the chair so it would be a makeshift bed and pulled it close to Tony. Her hand found a resting place on his chest. She shut out all the noises around her and just felt his steady heartbeat.
Chapter twenty-one
Daniel Mills watched the sunrise from a pristine dock in the little gated community of Longport. It was a very empty, pristine dock. Whitehead and his fancy yacht were gone.
The bum at Atlanticare had turned on anyone he could. It helped tie Whitehead to the murder attempt, and there was a bit more that this guy was embellishing. Too bad the guy also had a habit, and a string of arrests.
He was a flight risk, unreliable witness, and a liar. He wasn’t lying about being hired, but there were too many other tall tales getting thrown in, that the testimony would be taken apart.
There was plenty of work tracking down the photographs though. They’d ID’d at least one of the young girls as a former prostitute. She was estimated at 14 or 15. Was, and former, because her body had washed up two weeks ago on a Maryland beach. They were still trying to match her to a name, but it was likely Slavic in origin. More of the photos linked to a higher profile human trafficking case the Bureau had. Red flags lit up on that one, and Daniel had to make a trip to DC, and another to New York to talk to units about that angle.
But, there was one guarantee, Whitehead was gone and running. Coast Guard were notified and the yacht description on all kinds of international radars now. He’d get caught.
There was one small outlier.
Their aborted killer in Ohio was dead in a cop’s house. The locals had no leads and they didn’t have a vehicle yet. Which meant a driver, partner or some other accomplice. And yet, three photos had been emailed to him from Chris DeSantos very early today. They pictured a van, a Jersey license plate, and a wide shot of that same van outside John Bauer, Sr.’s house. The images were less than 24 hours old, sent from a hastily added, then deleted Hotmail account the forensics team had already traced to DeSantos’ home, and pointed to AC plates of one of the security guards Whitehead employed.
He had a hunch they came from a camera owned by the local Brigands chapter in Dayton. He just couldn’t figure out why it had been handed to Chris, and why Chris had sent it to the FBI.
The light was stronger now. A fishing boat rumbled past. Traffic got heavier. The city was waking up. The peace of sunrise broken by the routines of normal people.
Photos. Maybe he’d use the DC/NY takeover of his case to pay more attention to the DeSantos family. He smiled. Nothing ever wrapped up easy.
Excerpt from DeSantos Trilogy, Book 2 “Hope to Lie”
“We’re out. Everyone knows that.” His brother’s eyes fixed on him. “You were the first one out.”
“I know,” he lied.
“She worth it?” Tony got up to leave.
“What do you mean?”
His brother shook his head. “Sometimes I wonder if your brains didn’t leak out on that pavement.” He leaned over, putting both hands on the desk, getting in Chris’s face. “You and I, we’re out of all that shit our dad did. I know something or someone kept me on the fringes, with a good reputation, but I also know you can’t just leave like you did. I’m not stupid. You’ve been paying for twenty years. I also know he’s going to expect you to fight for that damn coat back. Don’t.”
On that, he wholeheartedly agreed with his brother. “I don’t want it back.”
“So? Don’t go. So what if you don’t have it. Is it that bad if you lost it?”
“I don’t want it back, but he stole it from Alexis.”
“Again, so?” Both of Tony’s hands went up.
“We protect our own.” It wasn’t just a statement, but a motto. The echoes of it littered his memory.
“And you said you didn’t give her the coat that way. So why sweat it?”
“Because it made her a target, and…” He hesitated, trying to figure out why his insides were twisted in knots about the coat, the lies, Alexis. “Somehow it’s connected, and we know Whitehead was connected to that murder over two years ago.”
For the second time in the conversation, he’d shaken his brother. This time, Tony’s face had paled a bit. “Why would you think that?”
“Because one of the questions they asked Alexis was where she got the coat. Why would they ask that?”
“Because they’re damn nosy?”
“I think it’s the legacy patch. Alexis said Ghost knew it was my coat because of it. Do you think the cops know about those?”
“Only you and Ghost and…” Tony snapped his fingers a couple times, “…what’s his name cared about those. Well, Dad did, too, but he’s dead, so it’s not like he’ll kick your ass anymore for losing it.”
Chris nodded. “I think you hit the nail on the head there. I’m stuck thinking I should get it back because he beat it into our heads so badly. If it were Susan’s would you try to get it back?”
“I’d almost kill someone for it. And she’d tell me not to, so I’d have to figure out a way.”
“And then you’d call Crank, and do whatever he asks, wouldn’t you?”
He nodded. “Our father fucked us up.”
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