“Um,” I said, feeling suddenly like the proverbial third wheel. “I’m going to get a drink. You want?” I said to Nestor. He shook his head, his eyes not breaking gaze with Lilly’s. “Lilly?” I ventured, getting the same otherwise-occupied shaking of the head.
I shrugged. “Okay. I’m out of here.” But as I walked past Lilly, she raised her nightstick, the dirt-smudged bottom pointing straight at me, stopping me in my tracks. After another fraction of a second staring at Nestor, she broke her gaze free of his, the expression in her eyes clearly strained. “I want you to know that you can come to me. If you remember anything at all, no matter what, no matter how insignificant you think it is, no matter who is around”—she flicked her eyes to Nestor on the word “who,” and then back to me—“call me. Day or night.” Then she looked fully at me, clearly trying for a reassuring smile despite the tight set of her jaw. “I’m here for you.” She glanced at the bed. “And I will never give up on Jake, either.” She lowered the stick and her voice. “He deserves … closure.”
Nestor came close, putting a warm hand on my back. I couldn’t tell if he meant to comfort me or speed me on my way, but his added refrain of “and me as well” sounded sincere.
As I started forward again, Lilly reached out to touch my arm. “I’m a phone call away.”
I nodded and then hurried out. And then—I’m not exactly certain why I did what I did next, curiosity maybe, or paranoia—I paused outside of the room to listen. A nurse with end-of-shift-end-of-patience writ on her face approached at a quick pace. I picked up my left foot and pretended to be looking at something on the bottom of my shoe, giving me an apparent reason to be standing there. When she passed by, I peeked into the empty room next door. Well, the beds were empty at least. A laptop, probably for accessing files and documenting treatments, was partially disassembled on a rolling table. The computer’s battery sat to one side, accompanied by a collection of cotton swabs, miniature screwdrivers, and a squeeze bottle of alcohol. Clearly the machine was undergoing maintenance. Good. If someone came in, I could always pretend that I was working on the computer. I might have a hard time pulling off “private detective” but I could channel “compu-gal” well enough to give the most discerning hacker a stiffie.
I ducked into the room and moved the tray table away from the door as silently as possible. Pressing against the wall, hidden in the shadow of a corner, I listened.
“Why shouldn’t I go with her?” I heard Lilly say, tightly.
“Why should you?” Nestor said. His tone was one of mild rebuke. “You’ve already decided she doesn’t know anything, or you wouldn’t have unglued yourself from her side earlier. Besides, Voltaire doesn’t like her, and his good friend, Jake, isn’t here to watch you make nice with his protégé. So sucking up to her won’t help you, will it?”
I heard what sounded like a strangled attempt to respond from Lilly, but Nestor plowed on. “And what’s with calling Carter Lewis? It wasn’t your place to do that.”
Her response was, understandably, affronted. “My place? Who are you to tell me that?”
He sighed. “Okay, I shouldn’t have put it that way. But you shouldn’t have called Carter. You went over the line. Like grilling Madison, not your job. Gene Rasmen is running this case. He’s not going to like you getting all up in his business, chica.”
Sharp, swift footsteps came toward me, and I started reflexively as if the wall weren’t between us. Yikes: guilty much?
Whatever Lilly might have meant to say, Nestor interrupted by saying, “Chill. I’ll talk to Gene. We were partners a long time. He’ll cut you in as a favor to me. But you have to back off a little. Don’t look so desperate. I promise you, chica, that kind of thing will backfire on you.”
Lilly’s response was tight, her words clipped. “So, my trying to see after the welfare of a fellow human being is wrong? Is that what you’re telling me?”
He groaned, but when he spoke, his tone was gentler, as if he were talking to a recalcitrant child. “No, it’s not wrong.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“It’s not what you do, it’s why you do it, that’s the problem. And everyone can see it. It’s all about making grade with you.”
“I deserve it! I work hard.”
“Yes, you do.” Curious that he didn’t agree she deserved it.
“And so do you,” she said. “But do you think we’ll catch a break? No, not us. We’re not in the inner circle, not one of the privileged few.”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“The hell it doesn’t! How fucking quick did management back you down when you took on Hunter?”
“What’s the point in bringing that up?”
“The point is that it’s not fair!” Then her tone took on a distant quality, like someone who physically hadn’t moved but had left mentally. “Don’t you see? People like Hunter … and like that daddy’s girl, they get everything, and they don’t deserve it.”
Nestor’s frustrated sigh sounded clearly through the wall. “There was nothing going on between Madison and me back there.”
“What?” Lilly sounded perplexed, like someone waking from a reverie.
“You said that daddy’s girl.”
“I wasn’t talking about her.”
“Then who the hell are you talking about?”
That was a very good question. It was clear they were talking past each other, and, unfortunately, the conversational content was passing me by as well.
Lilly groaned, as if in exasperation. “It doesn’t matter. Look, I know you, too. And I know what you’re really upset about. You’re doubting us, aren’t you?” That last phrase, so simple on the surface, was delivered with such an intimacy that it rocked me back on my heels.
I couldn’t catch Nestor’s response clearly, but the harsh hiss of his sotto voce response was unmistakably tense.
Lilly’s voice came back. “Who’s going to hear us? Jake? He’s out of it.”
“I …” Nestor’s voice trailed off, the normally smooth-as-water-on-silk tenor oddly broken and strained.
There were several seconds of silence. I heard Nestor walk away, toward Jake’s bed.
After a few more moments, Lilly spoke. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”
Nestor’s snort came through clearly. His tone was as strong as ever, but I could hear the doubt bleeding through his “yeah, right” response.
Her voice firm, Lilly said, “Protecting your family isn’t wrong.”
“I know that! I don’t need you to fucking tell me that!”
“Then why think twice?” Soothing reassurance merging into her tone, she added. “We did our job, and that’s what counts. People are safe now.”
Okay, what just happened? One moment, Nestor is all big brother, wise and worldly. Then suddenly it’s Lilly’s turn to drive? Damn it. If I could only see what was happening. Why is there never a terahertz imager around when you need one? Something that can see through walls would come in real handy right now. I pressed against the cool plaster, listening intently.
When Nestor spoke his words were somber … and angry. “Too little, too late.”
Lilly spoke again. “Yes, but past is past. That’s why we have to do this: so that no one will get hurt in the future.” More silence and then, “Look, Nestor, it’s up to you. We can pull the plug. But then what? We just hope he makes a mistake again, and we’re there at the right time?”
Him? Him who? What mistake?
Something clattered on the other side of the wall: it sounded like a table or chair being pushed aside. “Carajo! Why did this have to happen now?”
“What?” She sounded genuinely perplexed.
“This!” Nestor said, as if gesturing at something.
“Jake?” Lilly went silent for a heartbeat, and then, in a level voice she said. “This is a coincidence. One has nothing to do with the other, does it?”
Silence.
Lilly spoke again, more pointedly this time.
“Nestor? Does it?”
He huffed. “It’s just fucking bad timing.”
“No shit,” Lilly responded, cynically. “But that’s all it is. We have to see this through.”
“Why?”
“Closure,” she said simply.
At that moment, I heard a new, low voice that sounded like it was coming from the door to Jake’s room. A few seconds later, I saw a uniformed policeman, one I didn’t recognize, pass by with Lilly and Nestor on either side of him. They’d moved by quickly and, fortunately for me, they didn’t look right to see me lurking guiltily like … well, like a guilty lurker.
Swallowing my heart back into my chest, I waited to a count of ten and then poked my head out into the corridor. All clear.
With a relieved sigh, I headed in the opposite direction toward a small break room crammed with snack and beverage machines. Going to the latter, I slid in a dollar, selecting the hot chocolate. I leaned on the machine, waiting, but stood back as I noticed a sticky yellowish spot on my arm and wiped it off on the back of my shift. Don’t they ever clean these things?
As the thin brown stream trickled to a stop, I reflected on what I’d heard. The conversation between Nestor and Lilly had bothered me on several levels. On the one hand, I really do like them both, Nestor especially. Something about him seems genuine and caring. And he seemed serious about wanting to help Lilly. But he could have been a little less patronizing in the way he was doing it. Okay, maybe she was swimming out of her lane, but what was the harm, really? She did a lot of good things for a lot of people. And her dogged dedication not to let bureaucracy and the “good-old-boy network” stop her was admirable. So what if she ruffled some feathers in the process? I scowled. Maybe what was really bothering me was that Nestor had sounded way too much like Hunter for my tastes: making certain the inexperienced girl didn’t step out of line. And that was not a comparison I liked making.
Sipping my drink, I grimaced as the hot liquid burned my raw throat. There was more though. Sure, I felt empathy for Lilly, and the similarity, however brief, between Nestor and Hunter was off-putting. But I was way more disturbed by the second half of their conversation. What was Nestor thinking twice about? If it had nothing to do with Jake—and they both agreed it didn’t—then what difference did the timing of him getting shot make? Lilly had mentioned protecting Nestor’s family. One thing that was crystal clear from having known Nestor even as short a time as I had: family was everything to him. The man would take a bullet, no, a hail of bullets, to protect his kin. Could he give as well as get?
Still deep in thought, I made my way back to Jake’s room. A man in green scrubs was about to go into it as I came around the corner. When he saw me, he did a quick turn and walked into the room next door, the one I’d been hiding in moments earlier. What’s that all about? Maybe he’d come to check on Jake and didn’t want to disturb me.
I went into the room into which he’d ducked. “You don’t have to leave on my account—”
The man’s arm shot out of the room and yanked me in. Grabbing me by the throat, he slammed me against the wall, throwing the door shut behind us.
My back hit hard. I gasped as pain lashed down my shoulder like lightning. The cup flew out of my hand, splashing his arm with hot chocolate. The man bared his teeth, bringing his thin, pale face closer. Panic surged through me. His lips twisted into a sadistic grin as he pressed harder on my throat. I gulped in air, frantically clawing at his arm, the terrifying claustrophobia of suffocation washing over me.
He brought his lips against my ear. His breath, hot and rancid, reeked of decayed food. His body stunk of manure. “I wish I could let you scream,” he said. “I love it when they scream.”
Fury blasted through me. I am not fucking helpless! My hand shot out to the metal table. The screwdrivers clattered to the floor, but I got hold of the laptop. I yanked at it: a weapon!
Yes! Wait! No! It stuck! Shit! It was chained to the table! Who chains a laptop to a table?!
His eyes cut to the computer, and with a malicious leer, he slammed my head into the wall, again. A noise like a tidal wave roared in my ears. I felt my knees start to give out.
No!
I hooked the tray with my foot and yanked, ramming it into his back. His grip slackened enough for me to grab the bottle of alcohol. I squirted him in the eye. With a growl, he swatted it away. As it hit the table, the top snapped off and volatile liquid splattered over everything.
I tried to scream, but my traumatized throat only produced a hoarse yelp. I headed for the door, and he blocked me. My eyes fell to the table and inspiration hit.
I grabbed the laptop again. He sneered, brutality disfiguring his face into a caricature of humanity. “You tried that sweetheart. You’re not so smart, are you?”
Oh, really?
I slammed the laptop into the lithium-ion battery, driving the free-floating pieces of metal in the fuel cell through the separator to create a catastrophic exothermic reaction. In other words—as I croaked out—“Battery go boom.”
The explosion ignited the alcohol into a pool of blue flame.
I shoved the table into the man. He raised his arms to protect his face as the liquid splashed over him and howled as fire raced up his arm. Throwing himself away from the door, he beat at the flames with his hand. I raced past him, yanked open the door, and ran into the hall, plowing into a large Asian man pushing a food cart. “Hey, watch it, will ya?” he said.
The attacker burst out of the room. He glanced toward the man and then at me. Grinning wolfishly, he folded his fingers into the imitation of a gun and pulled the trigger. Then, in a burst of action, he grabbed a knife from the cart and slashed at the man.
The attendant’s hand shot up to his chest as blood instantly soaked his scrubs. Stumbling, he fell to the floor, his face twisted in shock. I dropped to my knees and pushed my hands hard against the wound as our assailant ran.
Suddenly, people were yelling and running toward me. I saw the flash of police uniforms go by. Two women came up beside me. One pulled me away and the other piled thick pads on the man’s wound. Staggering to my feet, I took off in the direction the police had gone.
I ran down debris-strewn hallways, following shouts and weaving through stunned bystanders. Adrenaline surged through me like a shot of Jack Daniels. My heart pounded, and my breath came in burning gasps. I ran toward the double glass door of the emergency room exit and slid sideways through it just as it closed. From the other side of the parked ambulance in front of me, I heard Lilly shout, “Shoot, damn it!”
I cleared the vehicle in time to see her struggling to rise from the parking lot pavement but toppling forward as soon as she put weight on her right foot. Nestor, his gun drawn, grabbed her arm and pulled her upright. She shoved him hard and limped backward on one foot: “Goddamn it, I had him! Why didn’t you shoot?”
Nestor drew back, his breath coming as hard, his face flushed, eyes wide with shock. “What the fuck? Did you see—?” His head jerked up at a sound across the lot. “Look out!”
My brain registered the roaring to my left just as I was yanked backward. A large man slammed me against the ambulance, driving the breath out of me. His body flattened against mine as the car rocketed by within inches of us both. Stunned, I felt my legs fail. I was pulled up by strong arms. Someone shouted close to my ear, and I felt a slap on my cheek.
“Madison? Madison! Are you okay?”
I looked up into the gunmetal-gray eyes of Maxwell Hunter. The sharp planes of his face set hard as his intense stare bore into me.
I braced myself against the hood. “I … I think so … Oh shit!” I pointed to our right.
The car had done a doughnut and was bearing down on us again. Hunter reached into the open window of the ambulance and grabbed a flashlight from the dash. With inhuman speed and force, he turned, stepped into the vehicle’s path, and hurled it at the windshield. The driver spun the wheel hard, but the projectile smashed into the passenger’s side, sendi
ng spiderweb cracks shooting across the glass. The car plummeted forward, missing Hunter by scarcely a foot.
Pointing at me, he shouted, “Stay!” Then he took off toward his car at a dead run. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a police car screech to a halt. Before it stopped, Lilly yanked open the passenger door and jumped in. Nestor gripped the wheel hard, and the vehicle lunged forward. Hunter’s Lexus peeled out within inches of Nestor’s bumper, the squeal drowned out by the sudden blare of the siren as both cars surged onto South Michigan Avenue in pursuit.
I fell back, gripping hard on the ambulance door handle to keep from falling. A redheaded nurse, in white scrubs dotted with rainbows and pink butterflies, jogged up to steady me. I looked up at her. “What the hell just happened?”
She looked up at the traffic, now passing by as if nothing had happened, and shrugged. “It’s Chicago.”
CHAPTER THREE
Half an hour later, I sat huddled in an aged, green plastic recliner in the dark corner of Jake’s new room chewing at the raw cuticle of my right thumb. My head pounded and my shoulder burned. Voltaire had arranged for Jake to be moved to a room at the end of the corridor and posted two cops outside the door. Nestor, Lilly, and Hunter had returned ten minutes ago, empty-handed. Their anger, as bitter as it was impotent, spawned an atmosphere of impending disaster. People stood outside the door, rigid and expectant, as if waiting for a tornado to drop out of the sky. There wasn’t a damn thing anybody could do but wait.
There was a piece of good news: The orderly who’d been slashed would be fine. I’d been luckier, hadn’t ripped a stitch. I didn’t feel lucky, though. I felt weak and stupid and helpless.
Footsteps approached. My muscles tightened and my heart fumbled. Run? Hide? Vomit?
The door opened, and I sucked in a breath.
The Last Best Lie Page 4
