Red Solaris Mystery Series Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Bourne Morris

  “Do you think her attacker might come after her again?”

  “I always assume so.”

  I ended the call and stared at the pale green walls of the hospital waiting room. I tried to put my cell phone back in my handbag, but my hands refused to obey my brain. I ended up just holding it in my lap.

  If Rosie had been right about sex traffickers being dangerous, then all of Joe’s reassurances were for nothing. People willing to kill a girl for asking the wrong questions would have no trouble eliminating an undercover cop.

  Chapter 10

  An hour later Nell and Wynan Congers entered the emergency waiting room. Wynan had his arm tightly around his fiancée.

  “We stopped by the police station on our way. That’s what took us so long to get here,” said Nell. Her arms came around me.

  Wynan sat down beside me, and when Nell had completed her hugging, he transferred his arm to my shoulders. “The chief told me Norm O’Hare talked to you. They still have no leads, but he’s definitely investigating some of the men around Danica Boerum. Pity Joe’s away on assignment. I’m sure you could use him here.”

  “I sure could.” For more than one reason.

  “Any news on the girl?”

  I shook my head.

  “I’m going to get us some coffee from the cafeteria,” said Nell.

  The thin doctor entered the room and stopped short at the sight of the large, muscular black man with his arm around my shoulders.

  “Dr. Solaris?”

  “This is Wynan Congers. He’s a retired police chief who has come to help me. How’s Rosie?”

  “You can see her for a minute or two, but only that. She’s conscious but still critical.”

  I left Wynan in the waiting room and followed the doctor to an elevator that took us to the third floor. Then she proceeded down the hall and through doors marked “No Admittance.” Rosie’s room was at the far end near the back stairs. No good, I thought and pulled my cell phone out of my pocket.

  “You can’t use that here,” said the doctor, pausing before the door and frowning up at me.

  “There should be a uniformed policeman stationed outside this room. Whoever tried to kill her may try again.”

  The doctor looked chagrined. “You’re right. Go ahead.”

  O’Hare picked up on the second ring, said he’d already assigned an officer and wondered where the hell he was.

  I entered the darkened room. A single lamp was on a table but the light over Rosie’s bed had been dimmed. Rosie was so pale her face almost blended into the pillowcase. A large bruise had formed on her cheekbone and her lip was split. Her breathing was shallow and her voice tremulous. “Hi, Red.”

  I leaned over her, took her small hand in mine and kissed her forehead. “Oh, Rosie. You terrified me.”

  Her hand gave mine a slight squeeze. “Do you think I just got punished for being stupid?”

  “Who did this?”

  “I don’t know.” She struggled with the effort to talk. “He broke into my apartment and hauled me out of bed and slapped me around.”

  “Hush, Rosie. This can wait for later.”

  But Rosie was not to be hushed. “I tried to fight back, but he threw me into a corner and then he started trashing my place.”

  “A man?”

  “A big man. Very big. I’d never seen him before. He wore a ski mask over his face so all I can tell you is that he was white, large and strong.” She paused and inhaled. “At one point, I got free and opened the door and ran like hell downstairs into the parking lot. I started screaming but no one came. The man followed me. When he tried to force me into a van, I screamed again. He threw me on the ground and raised his foot to stomp me. I don’t remember after that.”

  “You were shot, Rosie. Twice in the stomach.”

  She winced. “That’s why it hurts so bad. Gut shot is the worst.”

  The doctor came back into the room with a nurse. She pulled at my sleeve. “You’ll have to leave now. Our patient needs more medication and some rest.” I squeezed Rosie’s hand and walked out with the doctor, who turned to me outside the room. “She’s too weak for more conversation now. Come back tomorrow. And please tell your friends in the police that she’s not ready to be questioned. I’m having a hard time persuading one of the detectives.”

  I’d bet I knew which detective. As if my thought had conjured him up, stocky, gray-haired Norm O’Hare loomed into sight, his hand firmly locked on the arm of a lanky boy in a police uniform. Norm directed the officer to grab a chair by the nurses’ station and set it against the wall opposite Rosie’s room. “Donovan here went to the wrong floor,” Norm muttered.

  The doctor moved protectively in front of Rosie’s door. “She’s not ready for you yet, Detective.”

  I drew Norm aside. “She’s very weak, but she did tell me the man who attacked her was a large white man she did not recognize. He wore a ski mask. He pulled her out of her bed, beat her up, trashed her place. She got free of him and ran downstairs into the lot. He followed and tried to shove her into a van. Then he threw her to the ground and she thought he was going to stomp her with his foot. That’s all she could tell me.”

  “The longer we wait for a description of the man and the van…”

  “I know, but she’s a good reporter. She’ll tell you everything she saw as soon as she’s a little stronger.” I looked at the round face of Officer Donovan now standing at rigid attention by the chair. “By the way, your officer looks like he’s still in high school. Will he know what to do if that guy comes back for her?”

  “New recruit. First time guarding a patient in the hospital. But he’s strong and a good shot.”

  I gave a long look at Officer Donovan. He’d better be, I thought.

  “I’d feel better with someone more experienced manning that post.”

  Norm gave me a condescending smirk. “Joe told me you held strong opinions, Dr. Solaris. But he didn’t tell me you would instruct me on how to do my job.”

  “Sorry, Norm. But that girl means a great deal to me.”

  “I understand. We’ll watch her very carefully.”

  Norm turned and walked down to the end of the hall to check the door to the stairwell and for any windows large enough to admit a man. He came back slowly, scanning the walls and the ceiling.

  He scratched his chin and stopped at the door to Rosie’s room. “Any word from Joe?”

  That surprised me. I would have expected Joe to stay more in touch with Norm than with me just to be sure that Landry cases were being handled in his absence. I frowned. Norm looked uncomfortable but cleared his throat and faced me. I took a deep breath.

  “As a matter of fact, I haven’t heard from Joe for a few days now and it worries me.”

  “Hmm.”

  Boy, did I not like that “hmm.”

  Back in my office, my first call was to the chief of the Landry Police. His voice was kind and level. Just like Joe’s when he was dealing with a difficult subject. “Please don’t worry, Dr. Solaris. Joe is a skilled detective and he’s had significant undercover experience.”

  “It’s just that I haven’t heard from him recently, and he said he would try to call every night. Also, I know he’ll want to hear about what happened to Rosie Jenkins.”

  “I’m sure we’ll hear from him soon, and if you like, I’ll call the chief in Reno and see what I can find out.”

  “Thank you. I would appreciate that.”

  I turned from my desk to the window overlooking the quad. Late afternoon sunlight bounced off grass as green as Ireland. Crocus bloomed under the massive trees that lined the quad. New life. I put my hand over my stomach. Nothing yet to indicate I was carrying it. Had I wanted this child to happen? Had I been deliberately forgetful about taking a pill? If I had, Joe would figure that out. “I’m a detective,” he would a
lways say when he was able to remember something I had forgotten or discover something I had overlooked.

  Would he wonder if I had gotten pregnant so he would propose? Nonsense. I’d never even hinted at marriage. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be married. How did I feel now? Would I want this child if I were with any other man? Could I answer that one? The idea of a child of my own thrilled me, but raising one on my own? Or raising a child fathered by a man I didn’t love deeply? No thanks.

  On the other hand, raising a child of Joe Morgan’s? You bet.

  An hour later, the chief called me back. “Sorry I don’t have better news. Joe left his job at the casino two days ago. The team Reno PD had keeping an eye on him are looking for him now. They’ll call me when they find him. Meanwhile, don’t get too worried about him. Joe’s the smartest cop I’ve ever known. I’m sure he’s fine.”

  I put down the phone and glanced up at the door to my office. Phyllis Baker was leaning against the doorframe. “Got a minute?”

  “Come in, please. For you, I have more than a minute.”

  She walked in slowly. Phyllis was slender enough to sit in one of the small chairs in front of my desk. No smile, but a warm look in her eyes. “I hear you gave the Faculty Senate a rasher about freedom of speech.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Thea Gray and I are pals. She said you were very impressive.”

  “I’m glad she thought so.”

  Phyllis smoothed the navy-blue wool skirt over her long legs. Her fingers lingered on the fabric. A long pause preceded her question. “Are you really planning to go to that Purist thing?”

  “I know I should after shooting my mouth off and to show some support for my own beliefs. But I don’t want to. The thought of sitting through her racist bullshit makes my stomach ache.”

  Phyllis nodded her head and looked sympathetic. I told her about what had happened to Rosie Jenkins.

  “Christ almighty. Those people are not just racists, they may be every bit as dangerous as I suspected.”

  “We’re not sure the man who attacked Rosie works for Boerum. It’s just that the timing of the attack, right after her telephone interview, makes us suspicious.”

  Phyllis stared at her hands in her lap. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

  “I don’t either.”

  Phyllis stood up. “Give Rosie my best when you see her. That kid’s a good writer even if she takes dumb risks with her interviews.”

  “Thanks for stopping by. It helps to know we’re still friends.”

  “Always, Red. Always.”

  Chapter 11

  Three more days passed and no call from Joe. Landry PD were no wiser. The chief kept trying to reassure me, but my anxiety went undiminished. Morning sickness attacked with a vengeance. My temper rose, and I wept spontaneously at little setbacks. Rosie was healing, but her condition was still serious and she was still in danger, twenty-four hour police protection notwithstanding.

  Nell made extra cups of strong tea and walked through her duties with a furrowed brow. At home, Charlie mimicked her, following me around the house like a service dog attending a patient given to seizures. Two nights in a row, Sadie came over with dinner she had made to keep me company and to make sure I was eating “nourishing and organically grown food.”

  But I was beside myself. Something had gone wrong with Joe’s assignment. He had never let this much time go by without calling. I knew I was being a nervous “cop’s woman” about it, but I was frightened for him. And for me without him.

  On the third day, I decided to do more research on sex traffickers. I went to see the psychologist who had helped Rosie rehabilitate and introduced us on the first day of her freshman year. Dr. Sonia Ortiz welcomed me into her office in a small, elegantly decorated house at the edge of Landry. I filled her in on the story of Joe’s search for Rosie’s cousin and the attack on Rosie. Sonia was a professional consultant to the police as well as a good friend, and I knew I could trust her to keep my confidence.

  Sonia’s normally calm face paled when I described the attack on Rosie. “Jesus, that’s terrible. Will Rosie be all right?”

  “She’ll recover but it will take a while. Mostly I’m very worried about Joe.”

  Sonia got up from her chair and walked to the window. After a long moment she spoke.

  “As a psychologist I shouldn’t scare you, but as your friend I have to be honest with you. You should be worried about him, Red. Sex traffickers are often drug dealers or former drug dealers. You’ve read about the massacres in Mexico and Central America. These guys mutilate and kill anyone who betrays them or gets in their way. They don’t hesitate and they often leave the bodies in a public place as a warning to others.”

  The expression on my face must have alarmed her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “But these guys are Americans. Pimps not killers.” I heard the note of desperation in my voice.

  “If they deal in stolen children and drugs, they’re dangerous. I’ve helped prepare girls to testify against bastards like the one who attacked Rosie. I wish I could be more comforting to you.”

  “I have to help in some way. I asked Joe to find Rosie’s cousin, and now I’m going crazy sitting home and worrying about him.”

  “Be careful, Red. I know you are good at being an amateur detective, but these guys don’t mess around. They’re not just deadly, they’re smart. They use burner phones to communicate and they mask their websites and change locations often. Even with good technology, the police have a tough time tracking them much less arresting them. Going undercover to get hard evidence is probably the most effective way. Trust Joe to know how.”

  “When I think something bad might happen to Joe, I can hardly think at all.” I rose to leave.

  Sonia walked me to the door with her arm around my shoulder. “Try to think good thoughts and give my very best to Rosie. I’ll visit her in the hospital. She’s one of my success stories.”

  I was grateful to Sonia for her candor, but I knew I still had to do something. I drove home and called Wynan. “I need your help.”

  Wynan was sitting at my kitchen table fifteen minutes later. His face gave no readable expression as he listened to my ranting. His voice was calm.

  “If Joe’s in deep undercover, he may not be able to call you. He may have connected with the group he was targeting. They may have taken away his cell phone while they check him out. Pimps are paranoid about anyone new in their neighborhood. They see cops everywhere.”

  “I know this.” I was fighting back tears. “I just have this unshakable feeling something has happened and Joe’s in trouble, trouble he can’t get out of.”

  Wynan took my hand. “You know you’re projecting what happened to Rosie onto what might happen to Joe. Let’s do this. Rather than have me bug the local chief, how about you and I go to Reno tomorrow and talk to the chief there. Police don’t send someone undercover without setting up some contact for the undercover agent to use in an emergency.”

  Wynan’s large hand over mine was gentle and reassuring. “Okay,” I said, stifling a sob. “Will the Reno chief tell me anything? I’m not Joe’s wife, and even if I were…”

  “The Reno chief will tell me anything I need to know. We served together in Vegas years ago. We’re friends.”

  Somehow I made it through another day at school, answering phone calls and letters, reassuring the faculty who taught Rosie that she was, indeed, getting better, reassuring the student newspaper staff that their leader would be back with them soon, and meanwhile, they probably should sit on the story of her attack until the police had a chance to discover more.

  I stayed in for lunch prepared by Nell. Tea and a sandwich. All I could think about was waiting for Wynan to call and tell me when we could see the Reno chief.

  At one point, Nell came in holding an
exam I had written for my ethics students. “You put the wrong date on this,” she said gently. “Would you like me to proofread it before I make copies?”

  “I guess so,” I said with a weakness in my voice I had not heard for a long time. I feared I was losing it. Then the phone rang and, mercifully, Wynan said he had worked things out.

  The drive from Landry to Reno took about an hour in light traffic. Once inside the city limits, it was easy to forget you were in high desert country.

  In the older residential areas, houses with manicured lawns and big trees lined the streets. Flowering shrubs bloomed near the sidewalks; lilacs were budding and yellow Forsythia was browning up and already saying goodbye. A glimpse of one shaded backyard and front lawn could fool you into thinking you were in New Jersey.

  Downtown was different: tall office buildings and neon-covered casino hotels. The new headquarters of the police station were in a commercial section located near City Hall and the main library.

  The chief was cordial and glad to see Wynan. He stood at least six foot eight and made my impressive companion seem short in comparison. He welcomed us into a neat but not exceptionally large office and sat us at a conference table. Soft drinks and water sat on a tray.

  The chief had a rugged face lined with deep furrows in tan skin. He sat behind his desk and came right to the point. “I’m sorry I don’t have specific news I can give you to make you feel better, Dr. Solaris. But, as I’m sure Wynan has explained, when a detective goes undercover, we are often as much in the dark as anyone until he or she makes contact.”

  “Does Joe have a specific person to contact?”

  “He does. He also has a team that keeps an eye on him when possible.” The chief and Wynan exchanged looks. “But it’s not always possible, and sometimes when someone is undercover we just have to wait for them to find an opportunity to call. As I’m sure you know, what Detective Morgan is doing is very risky, and he has to be extremely careful to maintain his cover.”