“No. Nothing. Mike told you I was taking sleeping pills, right?”
“Yeah, he did, but if you could try to–”
“Look, you know about my pills. That’s my answer.”
Shannon stared out the glass door. Flashes of lightning showed in the distance. He listened for the rumble of accompanying thunder, but the lightning was too far off.
“I have a few other questions,” he said, his own voice flattening out to match Nancy Maguire’s. “Do you remember seeing anyone with either of the victims?”
“I told you, I was out that night.”
“Not just that night. Any night.”
There was another long pause. Then, “No, I can’t think of anyone.”
“If I were to fax you some photos, could you take a look at them and tell me if any of the people look familiar?”
“I told you, I don’t remember seeing anyone with them. Look, it’s late here, I got to get going.”
“Before you go, Mike wanted me to tell you he misses you.”
“Yeah, that’s nice.” Then she hung up. Shannon found himself shaking his head and staring at his cell phone. He put his phone away and went back to the waiting area to join Susan. Robideau was now standing next to her talking to her. Shannon joined his ex-wife. Robideau seemed surprised to see Shannon, but gave him a short nod before turning back to Susan.
“I’m sorry about your friend,” he told her.
She bit her lip, nodded. Shannon knew she was on the verge of tears. He took hold of her hand and squeezed it. Robideau noticed the gesture, excused himself and took a seat on the other side of the room.
Time dragged until a doctor came into the waiting area. He talked first with Robideau, then came over to Shannon and Susan. He introduced himself as Emily’s surgeon. “I have positive news,” he told them. “Emily’s still unconscious, and by no means out of the woods, but she’s doing much better. Her vitals have stabilized, her breathing is better and, while she has a fractured skull, the CAT scan shows no significant damage and far less swelling around her brain than we could’ve expected given the blow she received. Things are looking hopeful.”
A few tears broke loose from Susan. She wiped them off quickly. “When will you know that Emily’s out of the woods?”
“Regaining consciousness will be a big step. There’s no telling when that’s going to happen. It could be in a day, it could be longer. You just never know. The officer over there has left me his number to call when Emily’s status changes. If you’d like you could leave me your number also.”
Susan shook her head. “I’ll wait here for her.”
“That’s your choice. If you change your mind, feel free to leave your number with the nurse on duty.”
He left the waiting area, his gait showing that he’d had a long day also. A few minutes later Shannon received a call from Daniels telling him the sketch artist was waiting for him. After he got off the phone, he told Susan he had to go to the Boulder Police Station but that he’d be back as soon as he could. She nodded, signaled with her index finger for him to move closer, then kissed him lightly on the mouth. “Try not to smoke any more cigarettes,” she said.
When Shannon stepped outside, he took hold of his shirt collar and tightened it around his neck. It had gotten even colder than before. Earlier in the day the temperature had hit the mid eighties, now it was closer to fifty. Still no rain, but jagged flashes lit up the sky. He could now hear the thunder off in the distance.
At the station house, he went through several books of mug shots without any luck finding the younger Russian, Dmitry. He then worked with the sketch artist, who came up with a pretty good likeness. Shannon told him there was a good chance this one had a broken nose also. The sketch artist came up with a second drawing with the nose bandaged up and the eyes blackened.
As he was getting up to leave, Daniels wandered over and told him he’d like to talk to him for a few minutes.
“Go ahead.”
“It would be better if we talk privately.”
“I’d really like to get back to Susan.”
“This will only take a couple of minutes. Come on, follow me.”
Shannon shrugged, saw he had no choice in the matter and followed Daniels into one of the interrogation rooms. He took a seat while Daniels leaned against the table with his arms folded across his chest.
“None of your neighbors saw anything,” Daniels said. “Canvas came up empty.”
“A good thing then I was able to give you that Russian’s license and a description of his partner.”
Daniels scratched behind his ear. “About that. According to Paveeth, you weren’t allowed entrance into True Light today. He insists that you arrived there around two o’clock today, and were told to leave when you rang the buzzer. One of his members claims she saw you wait by the gate for fifteen minutes and then drive off.”
“The two of them said that, huh?”
“Yeah, they did.”
“I can describe Paveeth’s sanctuary in detail. If you need me to do that –”
“That wouldn’t prove anything. He claims when you busted in a couple of days ago you forced your way into his sanctuary. He also denies knowing anything about any Russians.”
“Then who gave me my black eye and swollen jaw?”
Daniels flipped through his notepad until he found the page he was looking for. “Duane Sweenski and Alvin Guthrop.”
“Who the fuck are they?”
“The Mutt and Jeff team you tangled with over there.”
Shannon gave him a blank stare.
“The guys whose heads you busted up,” Daniels explained.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I talked with Paveeth, I talked with them. They all gave me the same story.”
“I’m sure they did. And you bought it?”
“Before I answer that, let me tell you about a call I just finished with. It was to your old boss.”
“Martin Brady?”
“Yep.”
“How’s Martin doing?”
“He wasn’t too happy I woke him, but he talked with me. He told me you were the best detective he’s had. Smart, resourceful, tenacious as hell once you took a case. He also told me the full extent of your history with Charlie Winters. It was a lot more than a single incident where you lost a couple of fingers in the line of duty.”
“Yeah, quite a bit more than that,” Shannon agreed.
“I had no idea about everything you went through.” Daniels uncrossed his arms and rubbed a hand across his jaw. He tried to look Shannon in the eyes, but veered off and stared into an empty corner of the room. “He told me it wasn’t just your losing your two fingers that put you on disability.”
“That’s mostly true. I could’ve gone on disability with what had happened to my hand, but along with being maimed I did have rage issues dealing with Winters.”
“I’d have to think anyone would under similar circumstances. Question is, how are you doing with these rage issues now?”
“I think I’m doing pretty good.”
“Were you doing pretty good when you attacked Sweenski and Guthrop and almost killed them?”
“That was self-defense.”
“Sure it was.” His eyes shifted back to meet Shannon’s. “Something else your old boss told me that I found troubling. That you had a history of blackouts while on the force.”
“I could explain that but you wouldn’t believe me.”
“Why don’t you try me?”
“It’s not worth the bother. So where’s this leading to? Your department’s going to try to revoke my license?”
“Yeah. My boss will be requesting a hearing.”
“That’s fine. I’ve pretty much decided I don’t want to do this shit anymore. Are we done?”
“Not yet. There’s a thought around here that maybe you were involved with the victim. That you could be using these phantom Russians breaking into your apartment as a cover for what real
ly happened.”
“That’s fucking ridiculous.”
“Maybe, but it will have to be looked into.” Daniels wavered, unable to meet Shannon’s stare. He curled his fingers on his right hand and gave the impression that he was studying his nails. “There’s another thought that maybe you’re still having trouble dealing with your rage. That you’d go to any length to harass True Light.”
“You really believe I attacked Emily?”
“I’m not saying what I believe. My boss, however, might be thinking along those lines. He also might be thinking you could’ve had a blackout and not even know what you did.”
“I didn’t have a blackout. I didn’t ransack my own apartment. And I didn’t attack Emily.”
Shannon waited for Daniels to say something. When he didn’t, Shannon laughed. He felt a tightness in his throat as he asked, “So what are you telling me? You want to arrest me?”
“No. I’m not doing anything until I see whether Emily Janney regains consciousness, and then hear what she has to say.”
Shannon lips pressed into a rigid smile. He nodded to Daniels and got to his feet. When he had his hand on the doorknob, he turned and asked, “What are you going to do if you find the two Russians I identified?”
“I’ll talk to them. But unless their prints are found in your apartment or we find someone who saw them there or I can find a connection between them and Paveeth, I’ll have to believe what they tell me.”
“So that’s it,” Shannon said.
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t built a case yet against me for Carver and Gibson.”
“Give us time,” Daniels said. He tried to smile but it didn’t stick. “A word of advice, Bill, stay away from True Light.”
Shannon exaggerated a mock look of dismay. “But they’re the one true source,” he exclaimed. Then he got the hell out of there.
***
Shannon felt a sickish feeling in the pit of his stomach when he stepped into the ICU waiting area and saw the wetness around Susan’s eyes. It took a moment before he could find his voice and ask if there was news about Emily.
She shook her head, wiped some of the wetness away with her finger and motioned towards a TV that was hanging from the wall. “I was watching the ten o’clock news,” she said. “They had a story about a missing six year old boy who had gotten lost up in Pike’s Peak.”
Shannon took the seat next to her. “With everything going on today I forgot all about that,” he said. “I met Les Hasherford early this afternoon. He received a call when I was there about the missing boy. Have they had any luck finding him?”
“They just did. He had fallen into a ravine.”
“Is he alive?”
“He’s unconscious, but alive.”
“Was Les Hasherford responsible for finding him?”
She nodded, bit her lip.
“That’s interesting,” Shannon said. “When I saw him earlier he was having trouble slipping into that other world. I had the impression he couldn’t do it anymore.”
“They showed video of him from earlier in the day when he was leading the police. The poor man could barely walk. A police officer had to support him on one side. With his free hand he was holding a cup of coffee. They showed him several times drinking coffee.”
“Are you sure it was coffee?”
Susan shrugged weakly. Of course, Shannon knew the answer to that. Hasherford was antidoting himself so he could find the missing boy. Most likely he had poured cup after cup into himself until he was able to slip into the world of the dead and dying again.
“Maybe it won’t affect his health.”
“Maybe,” Susan said, unconvinced.
A news break came on. The boy was reported to be in critical condition, but the doctors were hopeful. According to one of them, if he’d been found any later he probably wouldn’t have survived. Susan blindly searched for Shannon’s damaged hand and held onto it. They sat like that until past midnight when a young resident came over to them and introduced himself as Dr. Leonard Cohen. He told them that Emily had regained consciousness. “She’d like to see both of you,” he said.
Cohen led them through the ICU to Emily’s room. She was propped up in bed, her head mostly shaved and a thick bandage wrapped around her skull. Her eyes looked swollen and her skin had a jaundiced tint to it. Both an IV and a morphine drip were attached to her arm, and other equipment monitored her blood pressure and heart rate. She looked so small lying there that Shannon almost didn’t recognize her. When she saw Susan, her face scrunched up into a mass of creases. “My head hurts,” she whimpered softly.
Susan was both crying and smiling brightly at the same time. “I know, Em.” She moved quickly to the bed and hugged her friend. Cohen nudged Shannon, told him he’d be back in five minutes and then Emily would need to rest.
The two women embraced for a minute, then Susan sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed Emily’s shoulder.
“I bet I had you worried,” Emily said.
“You’d win that bet, Em.”
“You should’ve known it’d take more than a conk on my noggin to get rid of me.”
“Do you remember what happened?” Shannon asked.
Emily squinted over at Shannon and noticed him for the first time. “I got hit on the back of my head,” she stated, annoyed.
“I know. Did you see anything?”
She shook her head, winced. “I don’t remember much, except hearing somebody rustling around in your apartment when I came home from work. After that it’s all fuzzy.”
“How’d you get into my apartment?”
She stared at him as if he were dense. “With a key. How’d you think I got in?”
“You gave me back my key.”
She hesitated, smiling sheepishly. “I made a copy in case I ever lost your spare.”
“Hon, that’s enough interrogation for tonight,” Susan said to Shannon, then to Emily, “Em,” she said, “I’m so happy that you’re okay.”
“I know, Susie. I’m just going to have a headache for a couple of days, that’s all.”
Cohen had walked back into the room. He suggested that it would be best for Emily to rest. Susan gave her another hug and told her she’d be back visiting tomorrow.
“You mean today,” Emily said. “Already past midnight.”
“Today,” Susan agreed, her smile brighter than any Christmas tree.
***
During the ride back to the hotel, Susan rested her head against Shannon’s shoulder. She looked exhausted, too emotionally spent to talk. The skies lit up every few seconds as lightning flashed over the Flatirons. Rain started to hit the windshield.
By the time they got back to their room, Susan was out on her feet. Shannon helped her into bed and out of her clothes. He then sat on the floor and tried to meditate, but he couldn’t slow down all the noise in his head. Every time he closed his eyes thoughts would start bombarding him. The one that was most persistent and loudest was his wondering what the connection was between the two murdered students and that cult.
He knew he had no chance of sleeping. He wrote Susan a note, left it on his pillow and headed out to his car. Outside the skies had opened up and the rain was coming down in sheets. The lightning now seemed to be overhead, the thunder crashing around him. He drove to his apartment. When he arrived there he put on a sweatshirt and a pair of running shorts and headed outside. Within seconds he was soaked, the water adding pounds to his clothing. He started running as hard as he could. Within minutes he could feel the burn in his leg muscles and chest, but he kept pushing himself. At times lightning lit up the trees along his path as if bombs were being tossed, the thunder exploding next to him. He forced himself to keep sprinting at full speed and didn’t turn around until he was several miles from his apartment. On his way back he pushed himself harder. At times the rain hit him so hard in the face that he could barely breathe, his chest feeling as if it were about to explode in u
nison with the thunder going off around him, but he didn’t stop until he got back to his apartment building. There, he collapsed, hands on knees, and tried to suck in air through deep ragged breaths. He stayed paralyzed in that position for minutes before he could move. Then he went into his apartment and took a hot shower.
After changing into dry clothing, Shannon walked around his living room and put the books back on the shelves, all the while trying to keep his eyes off the gaping hole in the wall next to the closet. After that he straightened up the kitchen. When he went into the bedroom, he stood transfixed for a moment over the blood-stained carpet, then steeled his gaze away from it and started to pick up the papers and clothing that had been dumped out of the drawers and onto the floor. It took a while, but eventually he had the room straightened up. As far as he could tell, nothing was missing other than his computer and the surveillance tapes.
He went back to the living room, played a CD of Native American music by Carlos Nakai and sat cross-legged on the floor with his eyes closed. Running and straightening up the apartment had helped slow down his thoughts, but he knew his mind was still too active to get any sleep, and he saw no reason to go back to the hotel and risk waking up Susan. The repetitive beat of the drums helped relax him further and slow down the noise in his head. After a while he felt at peace and became aware of a stillness inside. It was a feeling he didn’t want to leave and he waited a long time before opening his eyes. When he did, he was surprised to see that it was ten past seven in the morning and that he’d been meditating almost three hours.
Outside, the sky had cleared up. The sun felt warm on his face as he looked out towards it. The only sign of last night’s storm were some branches that had fallen down. He walked to Juiced Up and met Eli at a corner table. The place was more crowded than usual with all the tables taken.
Eli gave him his typical deadpan stare, mentioned that Shannon looked refreshed. “I take it the thunderstorms didn’t keep you up.”
“Nope, not one bit. Your usual?”
Eli nodded, and Shannon went to the counter and bought a chai for his friend and a combination apple and carrot juice for himself.
Bad Karma Page 25
