by Zoey Derrick
“Is everything okay?” she asks me.
As I look up I realize that my brow is furrowed. I relax it quickly. “Yeah, just checking on a few things.” I take a sip of my water.
“You don’t have to stay.” I can hear an underlying sadness in her voice.
“I have no place else to be other than right here. Unless of course you want me to leave.”
She shakes her head quickly. “No, I want you to stay, I just don’t want to keep you from anything.”
I smile at her. “You’re not. I’m trying to get some information on what has been sent to the media regarding you.”
“Why?”
“Curious, aren’t we.” I smile.
“A little.” She smiles back at me and takes another spoonful of soup into her mouth. “This is really good.”
“Celeste is a great cook.”
A scowl comes across her face and she looks up at me, confusion in her eyes. I can feel the tension and concern coming off of her.
“Oh. No, Celeste is my housekeeper. She’s the one who put all this together for you.”
As soon as the word housekeeper leaves my mouth, the crease on her brow disappears and her eyes almost glow. “Oh. I thought...” She turns away, back to her food, and takes another bite.
“That she was someone else?”
She nods.
I smile again. “No, Vivienne, there is no one else.” Only you, I say, but only in my head because that is just too much right now.
She takes a few more bites in silence, then asks a question that catches me off guard. “Did you find me?”
Thirty-Seven
“What?” is all I can think to say.
“In my apartment. Did you find me?”
“Are you sure you want to discuss this?”
She nods slowly, hesitant.
“We can discuss this another time, Vivienne. We don’t need to do it now.”
“I need to know.”
I take a deep breath, trying to decide if this is the time to do this. I’m not entirely convinced that it is, but if it helps her feel more at ease...
“Yes, it was me.”
“How did you know?”
“That’s complicated. I can’t say for certain how, but I knew. I...” I pause and take a drink. Standing up, I walk toward the foot of her bed. “I’d planned to be here at the hospital when you got here for your appointment. I really needed to talk to you.” I walk back to the chair and then back toward the end of the bed. The pacing helps me think about the best way to explain all this.
“So I didn’t show up?”
“No, I...um, was running a little earlier than I planned, so rather than go to the hospital, I went to your apartment. There was a cab waiting out front.”
“I don’t remember calling for a cab,” she says.
As I turn back toward the chair she is looking at me. “I think Dr. Alston had called for one for you.”
“Oh. So what did the cab sitting outside have to do with anything?”
“Well, I assumed that you were still inside your apartment. Then, as time passed, I grew more and more concerned about why you weren’t coming out.” Back and forth I continue to pace, slowly. “So I called Detective Stevens.”
Her head pops up at the name and a look of frustration and anger crosses her features.
I’m confused by her reaction. “What’s wrong?”
“He was supposed to protect me.” Her voice is small, but a hint of the tiger is in it. She’s angry.
Anger surges through my body at her words. She’s right – he was supposed to protect her, and he failed. “I don’t want to defend Stevens, because I don’t think he deserves it, but there were some unforeseen circumstances that got in the way of that.”
Her eyes flare wider for a moment, as if she’s remembering something.
“Do you know...?” She stops there.
“The cop that was stationed outside of your apartment was killed.”
I watch as her eyes glass over. “Mr. Crowley, my neighbor. I remember Riley saying something...” She stops.
“I don’t know anything about him,” I say.
She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. “Why did you call Stevens?”
I can see in her eyes that she doesn’t want to further discuss Mr. Crowley. I vow to ask Stevens or Jack about it.
“They came by my place Thursday night because of my car being near your apartment. That was when I learned about Rebecca’s murder and the association between her and Riley. Stevens told me that you were under MPD protection. And then I knew that I needed – for my own peace of mind if nothing else – to be at your apartment to see you leave to meet Dr. Alston.”
I continue pacing and I notice that she’s stopped eating. “You have to finish your soup if you want me to keep talking.”
She nods and goes back to it.
“The next few minutes in the story are a bit of a blur. I had Stevens call the officer that was stationed outside your apartment for a status update. When the officer didn’t answer, I ran across Lake Street to the cop’s car, only to discover that he’d been killed. That’s when I went into your building. The rest, I imagine, you can figure out for yourself.”
She finishes off her bowl of soup, takes a hunk of bread from the roll, and takes a bite, wincing as she swallows. She dips the bread into the bowl and soaks up the last of the liquid. She takes a smaller, soaked bite and then puts the rest down again. “I’m full.”
“Are you sure? There is more soup.”
“No, I’m sure.”
“Alright.” As I start to clean up, I finish my story. “I’ve been here at the hospital since they brought you in, and I’ve been in contact with Stevens, who will be anxious to talk to you.”
“What’s there to talk about?” she says sulkily.
I smile at her attitude. “Well, they’re going to want to know what happened.”
“There’s not much to tell. I only remember little details.” She is staring off at the far end of the room. “He came up behind me just as I was about to open the door. After he pushed me inside and shut the door, he threw me down onto the floor.” She takes a deep breath. “That’s when my arm broke. I was trying to protect the baby by stopping myself from falling on my stomach.”
My heart lurches in my chest. What she went through is just unbelievable, but I know I need to let her get it out.
“I passed out from the pain after he kicked me in the ribs.” She squeezes the blanket in her hand so tight her knuckles turn white. “When I woke up next, I was strapped down on the bed, something over my eyes and mouth. My shoulder was in so much pain that I couldn’t even feel my arm until I tried to free myself. My wrist was bound and broken.”
I reach for her hand. She doesn’t flinch or look at me, but she allows me to pull her hand away from the blanket and interlace our fingers.
“I don’t remember much after that, other than something cool and sharp running along my chest. I think I passed out again. The next thing I remember is waking up here.” She finally looks at me, and there are tears in her eyes.
I use my free hand to wipe them away. “You’re alive, you’re safe, and I will let nothing harm you.”
“Have they captured him?”
I shake my head, and Vivienne begins to shake.
“Hey, hey, hey. Breathe, Vivienne. In. Out.”
She takes a deep, shuddering breath in and lets it out.
“Slowly,” I say. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”
I gently squeeze the hand I’m holding. The monitor beside me starts beeping. My head snaps up to see what is going on. Her heartbeat is erratic.
Then I hear the blood pressure cuff on her arm go off. She squeezes my hand harder.
“Vivienne, look at me.” She turns to look at me. I smile at her. “Hi, darlin’. Take a deep breath with me. Ready?” She nods but I can see that she is turning pale. “In.” I watch as her chest expands with mine. “Out.” I watch as
she slowly exhales and count to eight in my head. “Good, again.”
We repeat the process again.
Then another machine starts going off. I look and see that her blood pressure has spiked.
Thirty-Eight
At the same time the blood pressure alarm goes off, I can hear commotion outside. A couple seconds later, the door clicks, and in walks Amanda.
“What’s going on?” She looks to me.
“Keep breathing, Viv.” I turn to Amanda and the door clicks again. Dr. Alston is standing in the doorway. “We were talking and she started to freak out. First the heart monitor went off, then after the pressure cuff was done, the next one went off.”
“Vivienne, how we doing, sweetheart?” Dr. Alston asks from the foot of Vivienne’s bed.
Vivienne seems to be on the verge of hyperventilating. “I—” Breath. “Don’t—” Breath. “Know.” Breath.
“Amanda, let’s get her on oxygen. Vivienne, we’re going to put a mask on you for oxygen and I need you to take some big, deep breaths, okay?”
Vivienne nods as Amanda brings the mask to her face.
“Deep breath in for eight counts. Deep breath out for eight counts. Okay?”
Vivienne nods again. I watch the monitor as she breathes in and out. Her oxygen level starts to climb, and I hear the pressure cuff go off again. Slowly her heart rate returns to normal.
“Good job,” I say quietly so only she can hear me.
“Vivienne?” Dr. Alston says and we both look at her. “Good job. Do you feel better now?”
“Yes.” Her voice sounds muffled coming through the mask.
“Okay, good. We can swap the mask out for a nose piece, but I want to keep you on oxygen for tonight, okay?”
She pulls the mask away from her face. “When can I go home?”
“In the morning we’ll run a few tests and do an ultrasound. Once those are done and the results are in, I’ll make that decision, but don’t count on anything earlier than tomorrow afternoon. Once you leave here, though, you will be on bed rest until I see you again in two weeks.”
“I can’t do that,” she says vehemently.
“You can and you will. I will see to it that you’re able to manage things while you’re off of work. Alright?”
“I’ll lose my job,” she says.
“Don’t worry about that.” As I say this she scowls and looks at me. The angry kitten is back, and I can’t help but laugh. Always so feisty. A feeling of warm satisfaction ripples across my body. I sober quickly and add, “We’ll take care of it, okay?”
Her scowl grows deeper, and this time Dr. Alston lets out a chuckle.
“Remember what I told you last time?”
She nods, and I’m curious what she told Vivienne the last time.
“Alright, Vivienne, everything looks good. I’m going to let you get some sleep tonight. I’ll take off the fetal monitors so you can move around if you’d like. Push the button if you need anything.” Vivienne nods and Dr. Alston goes about removing the monitors and tucking them away with the machine.
“Is the IV still necessary?” Viv asks.
“After you finish the fluids that are in the bag now, Carol, your night nurse, can remove it. Okay?”
Vivienne’s eyes shoot up to the two bags attached to the IV pole and scowls again. They only just changed them out the last time they were in here, and the bags are still about half full.
“Alright,” she concedes.
“Good night,” Dr. Alston says as she and Amanda leave.
“Good night,” I say back. Turning back to Vivienne, I ask, “Do you need to go to the bathroom?”
She nods. I stand up, go to the cabinet near the TV and pull a blanket from the cupboard. Then I walk back to the bed, unfolding it as I go. “Lean forward, please.”
She gives me a funny look but complies. I wrap the blanket around her shoulders and let it fall down to cover her exposed backside.
“Do you want to change while you’re in there?”
“Uh huh.”
“Okay, let’s get you in there first. Then I’ll bring your clothes. Put your arm around my neck.”
She doesn’t protest as I help her from the bed. But instead of letting her feet touch the ground, I pick her up. “Grab your IV pole.”
She weighs next to nothing and I don’t even have to adjust my balance as she shifts in my arms to grab the pole.
“Got it,” she says.
“Okay.” I turn toward the bathroom, savoring the feeling of having her in my arms.
She nuzzles her head onto my chest, settling in. “Thank you.”
Without thinking, I kiss the top of her forehead. “You’re welcome.”
Thirty-Nine
After I get Vivienne settled back into bed, she falls asleep quickly - no doubt the day wore on her – and I take the opportunity to check my voicemail. It’s full, and I quickly forward anything work-related, which eliminates about ninety percent of what I had in there. While clicking through the voicemails, I come across one from Stevens, left about an hour ago.
“Blake, it’s Detective Stevens. Listen, I got a call from the hospital that said she was awake. How’s she doing? Look I, um...I need to ask her a few questions and I will come by tomorrow sometime. We’ve gathered a pretty good mountain of evidence against Riley, including fingerprints from her apartment. Initial results on the blood found at the scene point to two different kinds. All we know so far is that they’re different and one belongs to Vivienne. Once we know more, it may be enough to solidify the case against that idiot. We have a couple of leads on his whereabouts, too. I will let you know as soon as he’s in custody. Please call me back at this number when you get a chance. I really need to speak with Vivienne.”
Instead of calling Stevens back right away, I email Chrys, my attorney, requesting that he meet with me on Monday at my condo to discuss representing Vivienne should this case go to trial. Knowing Chrys, this will not be outside of his area of expertise, and I’m confident that he’ll be able to represent Vivienne well. Once that is done, I call Stevens back.
As I’m hitting send, a sharp buzz rings across my back, the same one I get anytime there is something to do with Stevens. Odd.
After three rings and a series of clicks, he answers. “Stevens.”
“You called.”
“Ah, Blake. How is she?” he asks.
“Alive. Torn up emotionally, but she’s here and well as can be, all things considered.” My tone is clipped. Her hyperventilating earlier has me on edge when it comes to Stevens. She’s right: He was supposed to protect her and he failed to do so. Riley running free in the streets isn’t helping my mood.
“I don’t doubt that at all, but I’m glad she’s awake. I planned to stop by tomorrow to talk to her.”
“Don’t bother. She has a mountain of tests in the morning and she will, with any luck, be discharged in the afternoon. You can wait until Monday afternoon, my apartment.”
“You know I can’t wait until Monday.”
“You can and you will. She needs a chance to recover and get settled. On top of that, she needs a chance to speak with her lawyer before you get your hands on her.”
“What does she need a lawyer for? She hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“No, she hasn’t, but I’ll be damned if I let that fucker walk out of a jail cell on bail again. Vivienne will have her chance for justice this time.” I can hear the resolution in my voice and Stevens picks up on it, too.
“Speaking of justice, I received your recording. How in the hell did you get it?”
“Elton came to the hospital looking for me.”
“You know that I can’t use this in court, right?”
I roll my eyes. “That depends, Detective, on how you want to use the information. It doesn’t exactly implicate Riley in the crimes, but it certainly indicates that Elton is fully aware of what his son was going to do and the reason for which he bailed him out of jail, don’t ya think, Detective? R
egardless, use it how you want. Use it to build a separate case against Riley or Elton. There’s no doubt in my mind that if his lips are that loose with me, he will most certainly talk to someone else.”
I can hear a heavy sigh on the other end of the phone. “I see your point. But Blake, it’s in her best interest to give me a statement as soon as possible. The longer we wait, the more time there is for her to forget what happened or – as Riley’s defense will say – for someone to tamper with her memory.”
“Wait until Monday, Stevens. She’s not well when it comes to what’s happened to her. She started freaking out when I told her that he was still on the run. We don’t need another incident like that one. Give it a rest until Monday, alright?”
Another heavy sigh. “Alright, Blake. Monday afternoon at your place.” He pauses, and I can almost hear him consider arguing with me more, but in the end all he says is, “Thanks for calling me back.”
“Yup.”
I hit end before he can protest further.
Forty
“I would have talked to him tomorrow.” Vivienne’s small voice comes from behind me.
“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s alright. Nothing new?” I shake my head. “I’m alright. I know I’m safe here, and I know these things take time. The only reason he was arrested so fast the last time was because he left the apartment when he was done and a neighbor heard me screaming and called nine-one-one and I was whisked away to the hospital. When he returned to the apartment he found it without me in it and full of cops. At least that’s what they told me.”
“Fine. But that’s no excuse for why they can’t find him now.”
“Sure it is. Riley has a lot of connections in this city. A lot of people will hide him, stand up for him, or defend him if necessary. Not to mention a few cop friends, too, who are no doubt keeping him up-to-date. Whatever you do, don’t underestimate him.”
“Do you know who those cops might be?”
