The detectives took this all in silently. Then Reynolds asked, “So tell me, Mikey, where’d you learn about guns?”
“My friend, Keith, has lots of guns,” Mikey beamed. “We practice shooting the bad guys, just like the real cops.”
Willard laughed. “Using toy guns, yeah?”
Mikey shrugged. “They’re Keith’s guns. Mommy doesn’t like me to play with guns.” He hesitated. “Is the bad man gonna come back?”
“No, son, he won’t be back,” Steve said.
“That’s why the nice detectives are here, honey,” Laura added quickly. “They’re going to make sure that everything’s okay. Now why don’t you go ask Mrs. Starke to read you a story?”
Reynolds stood up. “Mikey, you’re a brave young man, but you can leave it to us to take care of everything from here, okay?”
Laura offered the detectives some pop and disappeared into the kitchen for glasses and ice while Steve took Mikey upstairs.
“Mrs. Starke?” Detective Reynolds asked when they returned.
“Our live-in baby-sitter,” Steve said. “She was away for the weekend.”
“So she wasn’t here,” Willard said, rifling in his notebook.
“What kind of gun was it?” Steve asked.
“Twenty-two,” Reynolds said. “Serial number filed off. Saturday night special.”
“What does that mean?” Laura asked, hoping to sound innocent.
“Untraceable. There’s a test we do, swabbing with some hydrochloric acid that sometimes brings the numbers up, so we’re not nearly done yet. You’ve got to go over it and over it.”
Neither Laura nor Steve spoke. Then Laura said, “And so you track the serial number to the owner of the gun, is that it?”
“If we’re lucky,” said Reynolds. “So let’s clarify. You do not own a twenty-two, is that correct?”
“Correct,” Steve said.
“So for the time being,” Reynolds summarized, “we’ll assume Mikey’s story. Your unwelcome visitor set his piece down. Unseen, Mikey picks it up, takes it upstairs.”
Willard interrupted. “Your kid’s lucky he came out alive. Scared the shit out me, waving that piece around like it was a toy.”
“Let’s hope we find this guy,” Reynolds said. “Meantime, Mrs. Nelson, any more trouble with your car, your car tires, anything like that?”
“No,” she answered, “not at all. That was a year ago.”
It was at that moment that Laura felt her stomach tighten. She suddenly had a feeling that things, instead of getting better, were already much worse.
That uneasy feeling intensified each day as Laura merged back into her medical rotations at City Hospital. On the wards by 6:30 A.M. to draw blood; rounds with the house staff at 8:00; radiology conferences; patient rounds and chart notes; new patient admissions; a sandwich on the run; special procedures; mandatory lectures at 4:00 p.m.; then back to the wards until 6:00 or 7:00. Finally, home to the kids; throw together dinner if they hadn’t eaten yet; bathe the kids; read to them; put them to bed; then homework. Except for every third night when she was on call and couldn’t come home at all. Those nights she was lucky to get an hour or two of sleep in the women’s quarters. No wonder she was anxious and queasy. Or was it that night with David that so unsettled her? She didn’t know. By the third week of January, she only knew that she couldn’t shake the panicky feeling.
That’s when it happened. After a busy day in the delivery room, she’d had to scrub in on one last C-section, and there’d been complications when the young mother almost hemorrhaged to death on the table. It was already nine when Laura changed out of the blue OR scrubs and left the hospital, too impatient to wait for an escort. Shivering, she pulled her collar up, but as she did she sensed movement among the shadows. Telling herself to ignore her paranoia, she suddenly felt something hard pressed between her shoulder blades.
“It’s a gun. Just keep your mouth shut so I don’t gotta use it. Get the fuck inside the car.”
With his free hand, the man opened the door of a rusty old Mustang parked next to her Falcon. Using the barrel of the gun, he shoved her inside the passenger door of his car. It wasn’t until Laura dared turn toward him that she saw the smoothly shaved head of a black man. The man who had raped her had had a shaved head, but with lighter skin. Oh God, was it happening again? That knife flashed before her eyes, and she felt her heart pound. She pulled her purse against her, feeling the tangible void. There was nothing inside this time.
“What do you want?” she stammered. “Here, take my purse.”
The man slammed the door shut. In the dimly lit lot, she stopped breathing as he kept the gun trained on her as he circled the front of the car to reach the driver’s side. Was he limping?
He slid into the car, closed and locked the door. “I wanna talk to you, Mrs. Doctor. Fact is, I been wantin’ to talk to you for a long time. Shoulda done it sooner.”
“This is a mistake. I’m just a med student.” Laura could barely breathe as she stared at the gun pointing at her chest. The car smelled sour, like beer and cigarettes, and her stomach rebelled.
“No mistake, lady. I know who you are. I know where you live: the social worker, the doctor and the fucking brats.”
“I’m sure there is some mistake.” Laura tried to sound confident, but her voice shook. What had he said about her kids? Her husband? He knew Steve?
“Matter of fact, I seen you that night.” He stopped abruptly, expectantly.
“What night? I don’t understand?”
“Seen you with Anthony. You ’member him, dontcha? Innocent black boy, dead of some kinda malpractice screw-up after the motherfuckin’ riots. Remember now?”
“There were so many casualties from the riots.”
“Shut up, bitch! Anthony Diggs. Ring a bell now?”
Laura stammered something unintelligible. She could feel her pupils dilate and her pulse accelerate. She thought she might faint. What did this man want from her? Why did he have his head shaved like Johnny Diggs?
“Yeah that’s right. Heard ’bout you first though, from Anthony’s bro. Told me all about the doctor lady fuckin’ up Anthony in that ’mergency room. Had hair just like you. So it was you.”
“It wasn’t me, I’m only a student.”
“Shut up, bitch.” He tilted the gun to touch her breast.
Laura cringed, her hands clutching her purse. She’d heard Johnny Diggs yell at his mother about a yellow-hair doctor. They had mixed her up with somebody else. “It wasn’t me, it couldn’t have been me!”
“Course it was. I seen you for sure. Drivin’ in your little black wagon.”
Laura stared at him.
He nodded. “That’s right, it was me shot out your tires. Wanted to scare you. Remind you, you ain’t safe. Somebody seen you.”
“Saw me?”
“Seen you that night, like I said, when I was visitin’ Anthony. I even seen your little wagon takin’ off that night after my man, Johnny, was shot. You just about run right into me.”
Laura made a strangled sound before the words spilled out and her whole body slumped. “He was going to kill me. He had a knife. I didn’t mean to kill him!”
He slumped back against the door and stared at her. “It was you,” he finally said. “It was you that night. You killed Johnny, my best bro.”
Laura sobbed, unable to think. So someone had seen her. She’d always known it deep down.
“I get it now. He was gonna get you, bitch, but you was packin’. Who woulda thought? A white bitch like you? You off’d him and walked outta there, free as a bird. Till I come along.”
“He was going to kill me. He had a knife.” Laura was sobbing now, her head throbbing. Her whole life destroyed as deep down she always knew it would be.
“You stupid bitch,” he said. “I was meanin’ Anthony before. I seen you fuckin’ with Anthony the time I come with Stacy and her mama. But now I get the rest. You fuckin’ iced Johnny. My best bro. Well guess what,
bitch, you gonna pay for that, you gonna pay me.”
Laura sat stunned, face obscured in hot tears. Incredulous at the stupidity of her blunder, that she had finally blurted out the truth.
“You listen to Snake, lady, or you’ll do time for what you did to my bro. Man, I can see it now, ‘Snake Rogers solves Diggs murder. Lady doctor ices black youth’. I been in the paper before, I can be there again. Get your hands up now. Do it!”
As Laura complied, Snake rummaged through her purse and her bookbag. “Not carryin’ tonight I see.”
Next, he patted her down. “Okay, you listen, bitch. I’ll tell you what I want. You’re Doctor Whitey now, so you can get drugs, pain killer drugs. You know what I mean, narcotics. I need ’em for my fuckin’ leg. My mama needs ’em for her back. This way, nobody’s gotta pay for ’em.”
“But I can’t do that. I’m only a student,” Laura gasped. Elated that he was not going to kill her, desperate at his demand.
“That so? Well, you’re inside that hospital all the time. They got morphine for pain, they got Demerol, other stuff. You so smart, you figure it out.”
“But I can’t. They keep them locked.”
Snake laughed. “Doctor Whitey, don’t give me shit unless you want me to turn you in. You got that?”
Laura froze. Her whole world was coming to an end. What should she do? Just get out and turn yourself in, a voice within her screamed.
“You’ll figure out a way,” he said.
“I’ll figure out a way,” Laura echoed. She remembered the penicillin she had stolen from the hospital once. How she had simply lifted it from the open cabinet drawer. But narcotics were locked up.
“Now get out. I know where you live out in Highland Park. Next week. Right here in this parking lot. Wait inside your car. I’ll be here. You stupid enough to tell anyone, like your asshole husband or the fuckin’ cops, you ain’t gonna be seein’ much of your precious little brats. And it would be my pleasure to fuck up your kid.” The hand without the gun rubbed the side of his left lower leg. “Now get the fuck out. And remember what I said about me bein’ famous.”
Laura lunged for the passenger door, scrambling as fast as she could. Her whole body shook as she fumbled to open her car door and lock herself inside.
At first she just stared, afraid to move. Afraid, just like that night when she’d driven out of this very place. Not unseen, as she had so desperately hoped. Her heart slamming and her whole body shaking, she finally drove out of the lot. Very slowly, not carelessly, like she had that night.
Fear for her children blinded any sense of reason as she drove home, plotting how she could keep Snake Rogers supplied with drugs. She thought of calling the police, only to reject that option. She should have done that two years ago. It was too late now. But should she tell Steve? No, she decided. He would never forgive her for the deception that had become her life.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Steve was not sure he really knew Laura anymore. Except for those occasional nightmares, she used to be a calm, serene woman, but recently she’d become jumpy, nervous, unable to sleep. The nightmares were worse, waking him up out of a dead sleep. Steve knew what was wrong with her. She needed to lighten her load. Hadn’t she had enough of this idealized medical career shit? First she damn near dies when a lunatic plows into her. Then she gets stuck in Canada and the house gets broken into, her daughter injured. And what about that Reynolds still tracking her down? Why can’t he leave Laura alone?
She must have sensed him staring at her because she looked up from her book. “Some good news, Steve. Next month I’ll be able to spend more time at home.”
“Why’s that?” Steve asked. Don’t tell me she’s dropping out? Not Laura, giving up her dream? A selfish dream, Steve thought.
“Tomorrow I’m starting a new rotation. Internal medicine at Sinai Hospital. Just think of the time I’ll save.”
“That’s good, babe,” Steve said, “only ten minutes away. Maybe we’ll have some time for each other?”
“Yes, maybe.”
What did she mean by that? Ever since returning from Montreal, Laura had been aloof and evasive, particularly when it came to intimacy. Not that they hadn’t had sex, they had. But it was different. She seemed distracted, definitely not enjoying it like the old Laura. He supposed that she worried about getting pregnant. She’d been so upset the last time. He’d suggested that she take the pill, but she’d countered that a medical warning just came out. And being Catholic, she argued that the Pope opposed all birth control except rhythm.
“So let’s go to bed early tonight,” he said with a hopeful wink.
“I have to study.” The usual response, thought Steve with a familiar twinge of bitterness. He flipped on the television, searching for the Pistons game.
The next morning, Laura kissed each of her children on the top of their heads as she got ready to leave. They were settled at the kitchen table as Mrs. Starke poured milk on the boys’ Rice Krispies. Kevin liked his drenched — Mikey, just a few drops. The twins ate oatmeal. Mrs. Starke had it all down. A godsend, thought Laura, even though she was expensive, as Steve continued to point out.
Laura drove slowly to her first day at Sinai Hospital, ironically wishing that the commute was longer to give her more time alone to think. She needed to think about how to handle her blackmailer. He’d given her a deadline. Would she have the guts to get him the drugs he demanded? And how to handle Detective Reynolds? Just one day after Snake had shaken her very foundation, Reynolds appeared at City Hospital, standing in the hallway as she left a Pulmonology conference.
“Laura, I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Detective Reynolds, this is a surprise. Do you have some news?”
“Questions, really. I’ve been over all the transcripts. Let’s go somewhere and sit down.”
Laura glanced down at her watch. “Uh, okay.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t keep you long. How about a coffee?”
“Okay.”
“I’ll buy.”
Once they settled in the cafeteria, Reynolds came right to the point. “Laura, I’m worried about you. I’m concerned that the incident at your house was directed at you. Some kind of retaliation maybe. That the babysitter may not have been the target. The whole Stacy Jones thing seems too much of a coincidence.”
“What do you mean?”
“Johnny Diggs gets killed near the hospital. His brother is your first patient. Now the sister gets assaulted in your house. Why don’t you tell me?”
Laura stiffened. “Stacy’s mother works for my husband, Detective. She was at my house on an emergency basis. You know all that.”
“And?”
“Well, after meeting Stacy following the incident at my house, I realized I had seen her and her mother when they were visiting Anthony Diggs. But the other brother, I just don’t know him.” She paused. “Never seen him.”
“No?”
“No. I’m quite sure.”
“What if someone else saw something and put it all together and means to do you harm?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” She could hear the tremble in her voice.
“Laura, it’s no secret I think you saw something that night. No question you were in the vicinity of the Johnny Diggs shooting right after you saw Anthony Diggs at the hospital. My thought is you were too afraid to talk about what you saw, and someone else saw you, and all this trouble is not random, it’s targeted. Think about it.”
“No,” she stammered, vividly remembering the parking lot where Snake had grabbed her, when blackmail took on a human face.
“Then listen to me. I’ll tell you what we know. We know that your connection to the Jones family goes beyond coincidence. We know you were at Anthony’s bedside the day his brother was killed. In fact, we found a hair, similar to yours, on Johnny Diggs. We have to ask: how did it get there? Another coincidence? You tell me. Then there’s the gun. It’s not conclusive, but the .22 your son handed to Detec
tive Willard and the .22 used to shoot out your tires is probably the same one. You’re a cop as long as me, you don’t believe in coincidence. Somebody’s out to do you harm. You have to think of the safety of your family.”
Laura sucked in her breath. “Detective, I don’t know what to say. I guess it is all a coincidence because there’s no other explanation. That thing with my tires happened two years ago. What you told me about the gun must be just a fluke.”
Reynolds nodded. “Laura, you’re a remarkable woman. I just hope to God you’re not making a mistake you’ll regret forever.”
That remark continued to haunt Laura. Detective Reynolds was so close. If only she could just tell him everything. But it was too late. She could not tell him what had happened with Johnny Diggs any more than she could tell him that she was now planning to steal a bottle of Dilaudid, one hundred count if she could, from a hospital medicine cart and parcel it out to Snake Rogers. She had to keep him away from her and her family. If supplying him with drugs would accomplish that, she would take the risk until she figured out some other way. Whether it was a federal crime, whether the FBI would get involved, she just had to take the risk.
When Laura arrived at the hospital, her hands were shaking, and despite the frigid temperature outside, she was drenched in sweat. She had to pull herself together. Think about something else. Something that did not terrify her so. She thought of Steve. Then felt guilty. She knew he was becoming more and more frustrated with her panicky moods and her indifferent responses to his sexual advances. She wanted to blame it on four active kids and a tough class and hospital schedule, not on the real reason, that she was in love with David. Hopeless as that love was. For the last three weeks she had not seen him, and she would not for the next three that she was assigned to Sinai. Worse yet, she’d heard via the hospital grapevine that he’d resigned to become dean at Stanford. Just like he’d said he would do. She would never see him again. And that was that.
The same day that Detective Reynolds had driven off to see Laura Nelson at the end of January, Detective Willard hopped into his own car and drove the black Chevy to the old neighborhood on a hunch. It was just after five and getting dark, but he was sure he’d be able to recognize the kid if he saw him. After two cups of tepid coffee in the Chevy, Willard watched as the kid made his way, limping a bit, down Alexandrine. He got out of the car and started walking toward Snake Rogers. He’d do his own research into the Diggs — Jones — Nelson — ‘coincidence.’
Shadow of Death Page 28
