Protector. Part 21

"Nurse," Dr. Brunler said, irritated, "please show her into the waiting room!"

"Get your hands off me!" Jane shouted at the nurse. But the nurse kept moving her backward, away from Emily. Jane turned to Emily and yelled. "G.o.dd.a.m.nit, Emily! Wake up! Don't let the b.a.s.t.a.r.d who did this to you win!"

"Officer, please!" the nurse implored Jane as she pulled her backward.

"Hey, hey!" the doctor said abruptly. "She's coming around!"

The nurse immediately let go of Jane and returned to the table. "Stay back!" the nurse cautioned Jane.

Jane stood away from the action, but positioned herself in a spot nearby where she could see Emily's face. Emily struggled to open her eyes.

The doctor pushed the light out of Emily's eyes. "Emily? Talk to me!" Emily darted her eyes from side to side. "Emily, can you move your head?"

Emily stared at the surrounding hospital staff. "Jane?" she whimpered. "Where are you?" Emily caught sight of Jane through the hospital crew. Immediately, she reached out her arm and lifted her body off the table, trying to get to her. "Jane!" Jane moved forward, grabbing Emily's hand. The doctor gently restrained Emily, encouraging her to lie back on the table. "Jane, I'm scared!"

"It's okay," Jane a.s.sured Emily. "Lie down. They're gonna fix you up."

Emily lay back down and reached up to her left temple, touching the gash and feeling the blood. She broke down. "I tried to hold on," Emily said through her sobs. "I was so scared. Somebody came on the roof. I slipped, just like you said I would. I tried to hide. I held my breath so he wouldn't hear me. He was so close. Then that car drove down the alley and he left. But I couldn't hold on anymore." She briefly looked up at Jane, tears intermingling with blood against her pale face. "I'm so sorry!"

The doctor retrieved a syringe from one of the nurses and looked at Jane as if to ask her to distract the child.

"Look at me, Emily," Jane said quietly. Emily turned to Jane. "I'm not mad at you. Okay?" The doctor injected Emily with a sedative. Emily screamed out in pain. Jane squeezed Emily's hand and gently touched her cheek. "It's all over! It's gonna be okay!" Emily stared into Jane's eyes as the sedative took effect. Jane leaned closer to Emily and whispered. "I'm not mad at you."

Emily's eyelids became heavy. She slid her hand from Jane's grasp and reached up toward Jane's forehead. The child ran her fingers across Jane's childhood scar on her right temple. In a soft voice, Emily whispered, "We're the same now."

Chapter 15.

Jane held Emily's hand and stayed by her side while Dr. Brunler st.i.tched the child's gash. Thanks to the mild sedative, Emily floated in and out of consciousness. As the bandage was placed over the wound, Emily finally drifted off to sleep. Jane released Emily's tiny hand from hers and the child was rolled into a secured area for recovery.

The nurse swept the white privacy curtain to the side, leaving Jane alone. But she sat motionless, sh.e.l.lshocked and still pulsating from everything that had happened that night. She leaned forward on the stool and buried her head in her hands. Behind her, a string of exhausted patrol cops began to arrive. Several of the cops positioned themselves outside the area where Emily rested. Within seconds, Chris appeared on the scene, racing down the corridor and out of breath. Just like the others, he looked like h.e.l.l. As usual with Chris, whenever he sweated, the perspiration tended to exacerbate his springtime rash, which was currently making another appearance.

Chris looked around the hospital area and then spotted Jane with her back to him. He stared at her for several minutes, seemingly stunned before walking over to her. "Jane?" he said more as a question.

Jane lifted her head from her hands and turned to face Chris. "Jesus! Don't creep up on me like that!"

"Oh, my G.o.d," was all Chris could say as he began to tremble.

"What's wrong with you? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I thought you were . . ." Chris' voice began to choke up. "I thought you were in the house-"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"When they paged me . . . they said there was an adult DOA on scene-"

"None of this would have happened if I had been there. Is it that Martha doesn't listen or was she not told to keep that place closed up?"

Chris ran his fingers through his dirty, rainsoaked hair, trying to get hold of himself. "I don't know." He steadied himself and looked at Jane. "You okay?"

"Am I okay?" Jane asked. "Well, let's see. Considering that I am responsible for this entire mess-"

"You?" Chris interrupted. "How are you responsible?" Jane shook her head in slight disgust. "It's just a job to you, isn't it?" Jane let out a tired sigh. "Once again, someone died tonight because of my inability to follow through and see the signs. If it wasn't for some strange, freaky stroke of luck, someone else would have died." Jane looked off to the side, fighting back tears. "This is not my job, Chris. This is my life. And I'm not very good at it."

Chris got down on his haunches. "Don't beat yourself up. It's not your fault. s.h.i.t happens, you know? At least the son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h couldn't find the kid and had to take off. Don't blame yourself for this huge mistake." Chris placed his hand on Jane's leg.

Jane felt cold and vacant as she looked into Chris' eyes. It was so clear to her at that very moment why they could never again be partners on or off the force. "A mistake?" Jane said softly. "That's how you describe all of this?"

"Well, it was."

"Take your f.u.c.king cold hand off my leg and get out of my sight."

Chris pulled back. "Jane, I just-"

"Are you f.u.c.king deaf?" Jane yelled as she looked to her right and saw evidence technician Ron d.i.c.kson standing in the sterile hallway. She immediately felt embarra.s.sed by her expletive, realizing that Ron heard her. "Ron," she said haltingly.

"Good evening, Detective Perry. Detective Crawley," Ron said.

Chris stood up and acknowledged Ron.

"What are you doing here?" Jane asked Ron. "I didn't know that evidence techs got paged for stuff like this."

Ron moved closer to Jane. She noticed that he seemed troubled. "Oh, it's actually an unfortunate coincidence."

Chris observed Ron. "You're shaking there, pal. You okay?"

"Oh, yeah. I've just had a rocky last few hours."

"What do you mean?" Chris said, closely watching Ron's every move.

"I was helping my wife cut up beeswax for her famous herbal salve and the knife slipped. I darn near cut off the tip of my left finger." Ron held up his bandaged hand.

"You okay?" Jane asked.

"Oh, it'll be just fine," Ron said, dismissing the question. "When I heard about your little girl in there-"

"My little girl?" Jane said quickly.

"Well, I mean to say you were looking after her and all." Ron quickly sniffed a ball of snot up his nose. "I'm sorry. I'm a little dis...o...b..bulated. I just got word from one of the patrol cops about Martha. I'm in shock," Ron said, shaking his head.

"Yeah," Jane replied.

"I'll let you and Detective Crawley go about your business," Ron said as he stole a look in Emily's direction. "G.o.d bless you both."

Ron started off when Chris quickly spoke up. "Hey, Ron! You need a ride home? I could take you. It's no problem."

"No, thank you. My wife will take me home."

"Really?" Chris said, his voice becoming slightly intense. "Where is your wife?" Chris suddenly became an inquisitor.

Ron rubbed his hand in obvious pain. "Oh, she's gone out to get the car. She had to park pretty far away after she dropped me off. I'm sorry, I need to go. I'm not feeling very well. My wife and I will keep you in our prayers. Both of you." Ron turned and walked down the hallway.

Chris moved several steps into the hallway, watching Ron's every last move. "Yeah, bud, I'll bet you'll be praying real hard," Chris said under his breath.

"Chris, what's wrong with you?" Jane asked.

"Jane! Have you lost your touch? I thought you were a student of observation. Body language and the whole nine yards."

"What about it?"

"He's shaking like a f.u.c.king perp. And he's sniffing like a f.u.c.king c.o.ke fiend."

Jane stood up, disgusted. "You have got to be kidding!" "There are no coincidences, Jane."

"You're not seriously trying to say that Ron could-"

"Jane, think about it! He cut his finger chopping beeswax for an herbal salve? What kind bulls.h.i.t is that?"

"His wife makes the stuff! He offered me the salve for my burn. Ron is-"

"Shhh! Let's just keep this to ourselves until I can investigate further," Chris said in a hushed, confidential tone.

"My G.o.d!" Jane said, completely bewildered. "I've said it before, Chris, and I'll say it again. You have got to do something about that paranoia."

"No, Jane. I've got to do something about solving this case. You may not be able to see what's standing right in front of you. But I'm not going to make that mistake again." Chris turned to walk down the hallway, then stopped and looked back at Jane. "I've got some questions I want you to ask that kid. It can wait for a few days until she's back on her feet. Until then, I'm gonna do a little private investigation of Mr. d.i.c.kson."

"Chris, you're crazy."

"Crazy like a fox, kid. Wake up, Jane!" Chris said with a smirk. "I'm gonna solve this crime and I'm gonna put DH back in good favor. And I will get that Sergeant's promotion. Hey, when that happens, you'll be working for me. Won't that be sweet? Watch over that little girl in there. She's solid gold." With that, Chris walked down the hallway and disappeared around the corner.

Jane shook her head and pulled out a cigarette. She started to light up when a nurse spotted her. "Officer!" the nurse said, "you can't smoke in here!"

Jane walked down the hallway and out the automatic doors. A hospital traffic cop eyed her blue Mustang that was parked where she'd left it. "That's a police vehicle!" Jane yelled over to him. "Tow it and you'll be sorry!" Jane ducked around a corner and found a secluded area. She no sooner lit up when she heard her name quietly spoken. She turned. "Boss!" Jane said, semi-startled.

"I just came from the scene," Weyler said, subdued. "It's a G.o.dd.a.m.n mess."

Jane took a drag on her cigarette and looked off into the distance. "You know, I wanted Martha out of the picture. But I never wanted anything like this to happen to her. None of this would have happened if I hadn't left."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I'd have the good sense not to have the windows and back door wide open. Did you not express to her the possibility of a stalker?"

"Yes. I told her there was some concern in that area."

"That's it? Concern? Martha probably didn't equate the same meaning to that word. Did you tell her to keep the windows and doors closed?"

"I did. She said the house was stuffy and that she wanted to briefly open the windows to move the air around."

"How many people die for how many stupid reasons? So, who else knows about this mess?"

"We're holding off the media as long as possible. I'll have Chris handle that when I feel it's appropriate. I ordered a twenty-four hour police guard around Emily. Other than that, I haven't debriefed anyone. I was hoping you had information from the number one source."

Jane leaned against the wall and stared up into the starry night sky. "She was on that d.a.m.n roof. I don't know whether she went out there to look at the stars or to get away from something. Either way, she was out there and slipped and caught hold of the vent pipe. She hung there while this f.u.c.king a.s.shole crawled out on the roof."

"We know it's a guy?"

"She says she heard him breathing. That's how close he was. And then he left."

"Left?"

"Maybe the back alley patrol vehicle freaked him out. I haven't had a chance to figure out the timing but he must have shot Martha and then made a beeline up to Emily's bedroom and crawled out on the roof when he saw her open window. He had to know that we'd be in there when we heard the shot. He knew he had to work fast and get out. It was a h.e.l.luva chance but it goes to show how desperate he was."

"Where did he go? He's on the G.o.dd.a.m.n roof."

"He didn't go back into the house through her bedroom because there were no signs of wet footprints on the bedroom carpeting." Jane thought for a second. "Come to think of it, I don't recall seeing any outside footprints on the carpeting except for Emily's from when she went outside earlier in the evening."

"So, he covered his tracks?"

"He covered his feet. Just like the first time when he took out her parents."

"This puts us back to the theory that one person killed two people-"

"One person can kill two people. You stun one and kill the other, then turn around and finish off the first. This guy is smart. He's a pro."

"Are you forgetting that Emily's parents were killed with two different knives and two different kill patterns?"

"He planned it that way, knowing it would throw us off. This guy's sick but he's far from stupid."

"So, what's 'PAYBACK?' Weyler wondered out loud, referring to the ominous note left on the knife that cut through Martha's cheek.

"I don't know."

"I'm aware that you feel this case has nothing to do with drug dealing, but I think we should seriously reconsider that possibility."

"Boss, I told you, it doesn't add up-"

"I know. The kid told you that she never saw her folks doing c.o.ke. I don't think that's a good enough reason to dismiss the idea. 'Payback' is revenge."

"It's also used by the mob."

"Are you saying this is the Texas mob?"

"I'm saying it could be any mob and I'm not saying that a mob is involved."