“Yeah, what’s that?”
“How did you know? I mean, how did you know she’d come back here?”
“I didn’t. I took a chance. And sometimes a hunch is as good as it gets.”
The gurney slid forward. The ceiling of the ambulance was white and red.
MUSC
Sunday
7:00 AM
59
Dan was checked into the hospital at the Medical University of South Carolina.
Go figure.
His least favorite place.
Sunday morning arrived with a crescendo. The ordeal was over. From his hospital bed, he read the early Sunday edition of the Post and Courier. It announced the death of Janice Porter. Her photograph took up the entire front page. A memorial service was scheduled. Her body would be transported back to Philadelphia and her remains buried there. On the inside section, Chief Abrams informed the concerned public that “The Mutilator” task force had been dissolved. The case was closed. Law officials transported Sydia Garrison to a mental institution in Columbia, South Carolina. She waited further psychological testing and faced charges for the first degree murder of several young women in South Carolina and West Virginia. Parents protested, claiming Sydia would cop an insanity plea. The people sought solace and redemption. They wouldn’t be satisfied until Sydia received the death penalty.
Charleston gave a huge sigh of relief. In a few weeks, after a myriad of written reports were submitted and finalized, Charleston would return to its normal, quiet peaceful community by the sea. The search continued for Jennifer Stattler.
After a lengthy examination, the doctors gave Alexandra a clean bill of health. Except for a mild sedative circulating in her system, she was unharmed. The only thing Alexandra remembered was going to the bathroom. A nice black lady helped her get back into bed.
Gina arrived at the hospital early. Before dawn, driving back from Columbia as soon as she got word. A gathering commotion erupted at the nurse’s station when she entered, screaming, “Where’s my baby? Where’s my baby?” as she raced down the hallway toward Dan’s room.
Awake with the energy of only a child, even with a sedative, Alexandra ran to the door to greet her. “Mommy, Mommy!”
“Oh, my God. My baby. Hello, my sweet baby.” Gina leaned down and picked up Alexandra. With her living and breathing appendage once again positioned on her hip, Gina opened the door wider to Dan’s room. “I wish you’d quit this damn job.” She rocked Alexandra back and forth as she spoke, her eyes heavy with tears.
“Don’t cuss in front of the baby. Shootings and bloodshed are fine – but no cuss words!”
Gina tried a strained smile. “Oh my God, Dan. I…” Her voice trailed off. She buried her face in Alexandra’s neck. Then she did something completely un-Gina like. She walked over, looked down at Dan and said, “What would I do if I ever lost you? Who would I abuse?”
Dan thought he actually saw tears forming. Her eyes became misty as she leaned down and kissed him tenderly on the cheek.
“I don’t have her things. We haven’t been back to my place yet. It’s all still at my apartment.”
“That’s okay. I can always come over and pick it up, can’t I?”
Dan thought about how enormously ironic his life currently was. He moved his face close to Gina and without monitoring himself gave her a slight peck on the cheek. Life was just too damn short to continue collecting injustices. Before she could speak, he said, “Just because.”
A knock interrupted them. Wright entered, unannounced. “Thought I’d be saying my goodbyes, Hammer.”
Gina made a move for the door.
“I don’t mean to barge in on you two…”
“I was just leaving. Say goodbye to your Daddy, honey.” Alexandra waved, and then stuck her thumb into her mouth.
“Wait, before you take her, can I have one more hug.” Gina positioned Alexandra down next to Dan. He pushed brown wisps of hair off her face. “Bye, bye, honey. I love you so much.” Alexandra gave him a kiss before Gina straightened up. “Thank you, Gina.”
Wright picked at leftovers on Dan’s breakfast tray. He examined a lonely piece of crispy bacon. Dan remembered Wright at the Recovery Room, sitting at the bar ingesting far too many peanuts. Gina gave a quick wave and exited.
“Seems to me, Hammer, like you need to be doing some thinking. Mind if I take that last piece?” Wright reached for the bacon.
“Go for it.”
“Charleston’s getting a little too small for you, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what about joining our team?” Wright poured a cup of water from the colorful cooler into a blue plastic cup.
“This some sort of joke?”
“Nope. The Force could use a good man like you, and with me retiring soon…”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Here’s my card. You think about it and give me a call. I’ll at least make sure you have a fighting chance.” Wright flicked Dan a business card. Then he moved to the door. “I’m leaving now. My wife needs me. But, do give me a call.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Call me, Harry. All my friends do.” And with that final acknowledgment, Wright did a quick military salute and exited the room.
Dan studied the ceiling, momentarily stunned. Did Harry Wright just offer him an opportunity with the FBI?
Wallace looked down upon him. And smiled.
Right turn, right move, Hammer.
It’s about time.
Dan made a wide grin. Just like Wallace would have done.
Out his hospital window, the sun peaked through a sky buried in early morning cloud cover.
When do I start packing?
Dedication
Today, FCG (female genital cutting, also known as “female circumcision”) rates are well above 70% in some African countries despite public criticism and government led law enforcement to reduce this practice. Other countries that share in this barbaric tradition include the Arabian Peninsula and Asia. Larry King, Oprah Winfrey and 60 Minutes have filmed segments on this horrific act. “In her bestselling, 1992 novel, Possessing the Secret of Joy, Alice Walker opened a painful door to the attention of the reading public…” Nothing Sacred is dedicated to all women, past, present and future generations who continue to endure this appalling procedure.
Is there nothing sacred?
May 2014
Douglas Wickard
Los Angeles, California
7
Nothing Sacred (FBI Agent Dan Hammer Series Book 1) Page 32
