by Sandra Brown
“We’re had.” Drex cursed Gif’s rational thinking and underscored the curses with additional ones because Gif was right.
Mike said, “You stay here. Gif and me will nose around and pick up what we can.”
“Thanks all the same, Mike,” Gif said, “but you’re too much mass to go unnoticed.”
Drex said, “He’s right.”
“No offense taken. I’ll stay here in the nice, dry car, and update you off my laptop.”
Drex asked Gif for Locke’s phone number, which he supplied. Before he got out, he asked Drex if there was anything specific he wanted him to look for. “Rudkowski,” Drex said.
“Goes without saying.”
“You see him, shrink out of sight and come right back. Also keep your eyes and ears open for a calling card from Jasper.”
“What do you mean?”
“He wants me to know it’s him,” Drex said. “He’ll have left me a sign.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. It’ll be something subtle. A inside joke between him and me.”
After Gif left, Drex called Locke. He could tell the detective was in a moving vehicle. “Where are you?”
“Menundez and I have been called to the scene of a homicide.”
The way he said that was his way of signaling to Drex that he hadn’t told Menundez about their previous conversation. “That’s a boon to me,” he said.
“It’s not our investigation, but they wanted us to take a look, see if there may be a connection between this homicide and ours last night.”
“Other than gender of the victim?”
“Yes. Something that would indicate the same perp.”
“I already know it’s the same perp. If you find evidence of it, call me immediately.”
“I’ll see how it goes.”
It became plain that Locke wasn’t going to talk where Menundez could overhear. Drex guessed it was as much for the younger man’s protection as for Locke’s own. Even though the honorable gesture was working against Drex right now, he admired the detective for not wishing to compromise a junior partner.
“All right. I’m reading you. But when you can give me more details—”
“No promises.”
“Understood. But as a show of faith, I’ll text you my phone number and our current location.”
“How long will you be there?”
“Till we’re not.”
“How long will the phone number be good?”
“Till I don’t answer.”
“I’ve got to go,” Locke said. “We’re here.”
The detective clicked off, and so did Drex. He sent the promised text immediately. Then, tapping the phone against his chin in frustration, he related to Talia and Mike what Locke had told him.
“Somebody might overlook a vital link. Dammit.” He reached for the door handle and lifted it.
“Drex?” Talia exclaimed.
“I can’t just sit here and do nothing,” he said.
“You’ve got to, Drex,” Mike said. “If you’re caught intruding, you’ll be shut down. Gif and me, too. Locke will be hung out to dry, because Rudkowski will know it was him who tipped you.”
“I’m not going to let Locke catch the flak.”
“That won’t be your call. Do you want to cost him his job?”
Gripped by indecision, he kept the car door open but didn’t get out. He looked at Talia, who said, “Mike is right.” He cast a look over his shoulder at Mike, whose expression was more baleful than usual. Drex conceded the wisdom of discretion. “Okay, but I can’t just sit. I’ll keep to this parking lot. Stretch my legs. Clear my head.”
He flipped up the hood of his rain jacket and got out.
With the intention of joining him, Talia reached for the driver’s door handle, but from the back seat, Mike said, “Give him a few. He’ll be all right. He gets like this.”
She settled back into her seat. “It pains him, doesn’t it? What he does.”
“It’s been known to. When it does, we—Gif and I—keep our distance, let him work through it. He eventually comes out of it.”
“The Drex Easton I met—good Lord. It was a week ago today,” she said, amazed by how much longer it seemed that he had been in her life. “That Drex was laid back and witty.”
“That’s a side of him, too. He can be a real cut-up.”
She watched Drex disappear into the rain. He was walking shoulders hunched, his hands crammed into the pockets of his windbreaker. “How long has he been doing this?”
“Officially? Since he got his PhD in criminal psychology.”
She looked back at Mike, who took up more than half of the back seat. Seeing her surprise, he tipped his head in the general direction Drex had gone. “Dr. Easton.”
“I had no idea.”
“He doesn’t let on.”
“I take it that he and Rudkowski go way back.”
“Way back.”
“They had a falling out?”
“No. That implies they were once allies. They started out like oil and water.”
“Over what?”
“Rudkowski’s ineptitude. It became readily apparent to Drex early on, out in California. Santa Barbara woman went missing.”
“Never found.”
Mike nodded. “Or her money. Anyhow, after that case, Rudkowski relocated to Louisville. He hated like hell that Drex settled in Lexington. Being that close makes it easier for Drex to keep a finger on Rudkowski’s pulse, but it also makes it easier for Rudkowski to stay on top of Drex. And he does. Like chain mail.”
“Which is why Drex works around him.”
“Rudkowski is a joke and knows it. He’s envious of Drex. Drex is smarter, a born leader, better looking, gets lots of girls.”
He’d paused before the last phrase, and Talia understood that he’d tacked it on only to provoke her. She opted to be provoked. “Are you trying to put me in my place? To let me know where I stand with Drex? With you?”
He didn’t say anything.
“You know, Mr. Mallory, in the past thirty-six hours my life has collapsed around me. It’s in shambles, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to free myself of the wreckage, or even survive. So winning you over is not a priority. The truth is, I really don’t care if I do or not.”
She didn’t flinch from his sharpened scrutiny, but it surprised her to see a twitch at the corner of his wide mouth that was as close to a smile as she’d ever seen from him. “After that speech, you’re beginning to.”
Drex chose then to return. He opened the passenger door and slid in. “It’s really starting to come down. Did I miss anything?”
Talia glanced at Mike, then shook her head no.
Mike asked Drex if Locke had called him back yet. “No, but he probably—”
All three of them nearly jumped out of their skins when someone rushed up to the passenger side of the car and knocked hard on the window. Menundez was looking in on them, his face a rain-streaked grimace.
Drex opened the door. “How’d you know where we were?”
“Locke sent me to get you.”
Drex already had one leg out of the car. “What did you find?”
“Lewis.”
Drex froze. “What? Gif?”
Menundez shot a look toward Talia, another toward Mike, before coming back to Drex. “The ambulance just left with him.”
Chapter 31
Speaking in stops and starts, Menundez told them that Gif had been discovered lying on the pavement. “He was in excruciating pain. Couldn’t talk. Barely able to breath. Somebody called 911. By the time emergency services arrived, he was unconscious.”
Drex grabbed the detective by the collar and all but hauled him into the car.
“Was he still alive?”
“I don’t know. I swear, I don’t.”
“What happened to him?”
“Nobody knows. He was in the middle of a crowd. Just dropped. People around him thought maybe a heart
attack or stroke. Locke stayed to question them. Sent me to tell you.”
“Thanks.”
Talia already had the motor running. As soon as Drex released his hold on Menundez, she peeled out of the parking space, leaving the detective where he stood.
She navigated the streets of downtown in the direction of University Hospital ER, where Menundez had told them Gif was being taken. She made only one wrong turn, going the wrong way down a one-way street. She dodged oncoming motorists who flashed their brights and honked, but she didn’t ease up on the accelerator.
In the passenger seat, Drex was beside himself, taking all the blame for letting Gif go alone. She dropped him at the entrance to the ER. He bolted from the car and ran inside while she and Mike went in search of parking.
By the time they caught up with Drex, he was threatening the personnel at the admissions desk with demolition of the hospital if they didn’t inform him of his friend’s condition.
“At least tell me how seriously he was injured,” he shouted at the woman, who must have been the one in charge. “Was he shot? Stabbed? Bleeding? What?”
Unfazed, she said, “There’s nothing I can tell you, sir. You’re welcome to take a seat in the waiting—”
“I’m not taking a seat!”
Talia and Mike flanked him, each hooking an arm through his and pulling him away. They wrestled him toward the waiting area where Mike pushed him into a chair and told him to get a grip.
“You’re not the only one upset, you know. Losing it isn’t helping.”
Drex told him to back the eff off, then planted his elbows on his knees and buried his face his hands.
“Keep an eye on him,” Mike said to Talia. “My badge will make that harpy more accommodating.”
“Hold on.” She caught him by the sleeve. “Flashing your badge might draw unwelcome attention to us.”
She’d become aware of other people in the waiting area, who had diverted their attention from cell phones, magazines, and pamphlets about miracle drugs, and were now observing them with avid interest, as though the personal drama that had brought them to the ER tonight paled in comparison to Drex’s.
Mike’s glower made most go back to what they’d been doing.
Talia crouched in front of Drex and placed her hand on his knee. “Drex, do you still have my cell phone and the battery with you?”
He raised his head and looked at her as though she were speaking in tongues. When the words registered, he nodded. “Why?”
“Put the battery in.” When he started shaking his head, she pressed his knee. “One call, then you can take it out again. Trust me. I’ve got this.”
Either he did place his trust in her or he was too worried over Gif to argue, but he began doing as she asked. She left him under Mike’s watch and returned to the admissions desk.
The woman took her sweet time sorting through a stack of forms, then, without even looking up from her task, said, “Yes?”
“Is Dr. Phillips in the hospital tonight? Andrew Phillips.”
She looked up then. “He’s chief of surgery.”
“I know. Would it be possible for you to get a message to either him or his assistant?”
She sputtered as though Talia had told a good one. “I don’t think so.”
“I see. Well, thank you.” She gave her a pleasant smile. “I’ll call Margaret.”
“Who’s that?”
“Mrs. Andrew Phillips.” Talia held her gaze. “Or, so I don’t have to disturb her, if you think it’s possible to reach someone on Dr. Phillips’s staff, please ask them to call me. My name is Talia Shafer.”
The woman shifted her stance as though her shoes had suddenly become too tight. “Like the children’s foundation?”
“Exactly like that. Margaret serves on our board.”
The woman thought it over, then, “What’s your phone number?”
Talia recited it; the woman wrote it down. “Please convey that I’m in the ER waiting room, and that I’m very anxious to know the condition of a patient named Gif Lewis.”
The woman gave her a sulky nod.
Talia returned to Drex. She sat in the chair beside his, took her phone from his listless hand, and checked to see that he’d restored the battery and turned it on. “We should know something soon.”
“Your approach must’ve been more diplomatic than mine.”
“I didn’t use diplomacy. I pulled strings.”
She could tell that he wasn’t really engaged in what they were saying to each other. He was staring straight ahead, his eyes bleak, haunted. She placed her hand in his, sliding her palm against his, then linking their fingers. They didn’t talk.
Across from them in a facing row of chairs, Mike was overflowing the seat of his, but he looked stalwart. Talia found herself judging him less harshly. He was a disagreeable grump, but a levelheaded and reliable friend. His outward display of worry was more contained than Drex’s, but she could tell that it was just as deeply felt.
At one point, Drex looked over at him and said hoarsely, “Jesus, Mike.”
“I know.”
“I’m wishing for a heart attack.”
Mike confessed that he was, too. “They’re survivable.”
After that, they lapsed into a somber silence, stirring only when a stout man, dressed in scrubs and sporting a white beard, pushed through a door and strode into the waiting area with the bearing of a commanding general. Or a chief surgeon at a major teaching hospital.
He glanced around and, spotting Talia, walked straight over. She stood up, Drex and Mike doing likewise. She said, “Andy, I didn’t expect you! You could have sent an underling or just called me.”
“Does this have anything to do with Jasper? Margaret and I were shocked to hear about it. Has there been any word?”
“Thank you for your concern. There’s nothing new to report on Jasper’s disappearance, but indirectly that’s why I’m here. One of the men on the investigative team was brought here by ambulance a short while ago.”
“Lewis.”
“Yes. What can you tell me?”
“I can tell you that he’s alive.”
She, Drex, and Mike all slumped with relief. “We’re all very glad to hear that,” she said. “Thank you, Andy.” She made hasty introductions. “Mr. Lewis is more than simply their colleague, he’s their very good friend. Naturally, they’ve been anxious to know his condition.”
“And that woman over there wouldn’t even tell us what had happened to him,” Drex said.
The surgeon looked him up and down. “You must be the extremely rude and vituperative individual referred to by her.”
That bounced off Drex. “Is Gif going to be all right?”
Talia knew Andrew Phillips to be kind, but he was also brusque. “Come with me.”
Without further ado, he turned away. They followed him through the door from which he’d entered and headed toward a bank of elevators. He jabbed the up button. “Mr. Lewis presented with a lacerated liver that required immediate surgery.”
Talia covered her mouth with her hand. “Heavens.”
“Knife?” Drex asked as they boarded the elevator.
“Blunt trauma.”
“He took a blow to the gut?” Mike asked.
The surgeon placed his fist in the wedge where his rib cage came together. “Right here. Vulnerable spot. Ask any boxer. You catch a blow there, you’ll likely go to the mat. Hurts like a mother. Excuse me, Talia. Renders you unable to move, breathe. Blood pressure tanks. Here we are.”
The surgeon alighted from the elevator first and led them to a much smaller waiting room, which was unoccupied. “Whoever hit him knew what he was doing,” he said. “The blow was perfectly placed and done with harmful intent. I wouldn’t rule out brass knuckles or some other object. In any case, it was hard enough to cause a sizeable tear. Good news, your friend got here before catastrophic blood loss, and he had an excellent trauma team working on him. The tear has been repaired. He seems
overall healthy. Barring any complications, which aren’t anticipated, he’ll live.”
While Mike and Talia expressed their relief, Drex turned away from them and placed one hand on the back of his neck, indicating to Talia that anxiety and tension had concentrated there. Likely he also needed a moment to suppress his emotions.
“When I got your call, they were closing him up,” the surgeon was saying. “So if he’s not already out of surgery, it shouldn’t be much longer. I’ll be sure someone lets you know.”
Drex came around. “Can I see him?”
“He’ll be in recovery ICU for several hours.”
“Can I see him?” Drex repeated.
“He’ll be out of it. But if you—”
“I do.”
Dr. Phillips eyed him as though he warranted his reputation for rudeness, but also with respect for a man who didn’t mince words. “I’ll tell the staff to grant you a minute as soon as possible.”
“Thank you. For everything. I mean it.”
The surgeon acknowledged Drex’s appreciation with a curt nod, then reached for Talia’s hand and patted it. “This business with Jasper…” He let that trail. “Margaret and I are here for you, whenever.”
“You certainly have been tonight. Thank you.”
He gave her hand a final pat, turned to Drex and Mike, and said, “I have utmost respect for the FBI. Good luck to your friend.” Then he left them as though already late to the next emergency.
“Friends in high places,” Mike wheezed as he lowered his bulk onto an upholstered love seat.
Talia said, “I’m glad I could be of some use.”
“Well, thanks,” Mike said.
Drex didn’t thank her verbally. He simply pulled her into a tight hug.
Drex had paced miles, it seemed, before he was summoned by a nurse and told he could see Gif. He followed her to one of the ICU rooms, where she left him. Under the loose hospital gown, Gif looked fragile and pale and, if Drex didn’t know better, dead. The rhythmic blinks and blips on the machines to which he was connected were reassurance that his systems were functioning.
When the nurse returned to escort him out, she emphasized that Gif was doing well, that his vitals were strong, and that she predicted a full recovery.