Thick Fog (Alexis Parker Book 18)

by G. K. Parks

  I whipped my head around, spotting Steele lumbering through the door with a gun in his hand. I threw myself on top of Lucca just as Steele fired. Another gunshot sounded, this one in my ear. Lucca held my gun in his hand. Smoke traveled up the barrel, and I stared at it. I’d never noticed that happen except in movies. Steele twitched once or twice on the ground and then went still.

  Lucca cursed and dropped back to the floor; the bleeding more profuse. The knife had slipped out with his sudden movement. I pressed harder against his wound, surprised by the amount of blood surrounding us. Steele’s shot had missed, impacting above my head, so where did all this blood come from?

  Lucca sucked in another shaky breath, groaning and shuddering beneath me.

  “Hang on.” The sirens were right outside. I heard car doors slamming. And then I yelled as loud as I could, “Help. We’re back here.”

  Thirty-six

  Everything moved in a blur, like a dream or just another of my horrible nightmares. So many familiar faces, but not the ones I expected to see. Tactical teams stormed through the front and back doors. Uniformed officers brought up the rear. The tactical team flipped Steele onto his stomach and cuffed him before they even bothered checking for a pulse.

  And then gloved hands lifted me off Lucca, dragging me away from him.

  “Help him.” I watched in horror as they knelt beside him. Their first responder training not much more effective than my own. “Where are the paramedics?”

  “On the way,” an officer said.

  “How long? He can’t wait. He’s been bleeding too long.” I tried to think, every thought coming too fast and too slow at the same time. I couldn’t make sense of my own mind. “Cross.” I held out my hand for a phone. Cross kept a mobile medical unit on standby. And unlike EMTs, his van was outfitted to handle anything. Concierge emergency medicine at its best. They could save Lucca. “Call Cross.”

  “Who?”

  “Lucien Cross.”

  The cop gave me an odd look. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine.” I shook away his question.

  “Parker,” a voice called, and I turned. O’Connell stepped over Steele, noting the hole in the killer’s chest. “How’s Lucca?” He peered around me.

  “Not good. He needs help.”

  “It’s here.” O’Connell turned to the nearest ESU member. “Is the building clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  O’Connell hit the radio, and a team of EMTs came in, dragging the stretcher and gurney behind them. O’Connell watched them pack Lucca’s wound and load him onto the gurney. At the moment, Eddie remained breathing.

  “He’s lost a lot of blood.” I stared numbly at the puddle on the floor which appeared to be spreading.

  “You’re wearing most of it,” O’Connell said. He cocked his head at the way I stood. “Hold up,” he called to the EMTs. “Take her with you.”

  “I’m fine. Just help Lucca. Please, you can’t let him die.” I trembled. “He can’t die.”

  O’Connell slid beneath my arm and walked me out Mark’s front door toward the ambulance.

  “No,” I jerked backward, “I can’t go in there. The last time I sat in the back of an ambulance, my partner died. I can’t.” I tried to pull free, but Nick held tight. “No, Nick. Please. Don’t make me go. Don’t make me live that again.”

  “You’re okay. Lucca’s okay. Just go with him, all right? I’ll meet you there. Jen will be waiting. I promise, everything’s going to be fine.”

  Nick lifted me onto a second gurney and held me down while the EMT secured the straps. I didn’t understand what was going on. But my protests fell on deaf ears. After they tied something around my upper leg, I was loaded into the ambulance beside Lucca.

  I fought against the neck brace, pulling it off, so I could watch what was happening. The EMT checked Lucca’s vitals, hooked him to a few monitors, and recorded the numbers. He spoke to him, though I wasn’t sure if Lucca was still conscious. Then he changed his gloves and turned to face me.

  “Do you want something for the pain?”

  “What pain?” I asked.

  He took my vitals, spending far too long looking into my eyes. But the monitor hooked to Lucca beeped a warning, and he shifted back to the other gurney. My worst nightmare was about to play out again.

  Tears welled. “Save him,” I beseeched. I didn’t want to tell Lucca’s wife he loved her and he was sorry. I didn’t even know her name. Or did I? I couldn’t remember. I always had a rule not to get personal because I didn’t want to feel like this. And despite my rules, despite leaving the OIO, despite everything, I was trapped in the exact same hell I thought I left behind.

  Tugging the leads off my chest, I fumbled with the straps. I had to get free. My heart beat hard but not nearly as fast as it should, given how much I was hyperventilating. Undoing the last clasp, I swung my legs down and sat up. Part of me wanted to curl into a ball, but that wouldn’t help anyone.

  “What do you need me to do?” I asked.

  The EMT looked utterly bewildered, but he had his hands full. “Hold this.” I took the bag and watched as he worked on my partner.

  The best thing about Mark’s townhouse, it wasn’t far from the hospital. We arrived two minutes later. A trauma team waited on the other side. They whisked Lucca away.

  Another team came up. By then, I was on the verge of collapse. The numbing fire in my hip seemed to have spread into a pleasant warmth along my nerves. It took away the panic, but even it couldn’t numb my breaking heart.

  * * *

  The door opened, and I buried my face in the pillow. A man cleared his throat. Sighing, I looked up.

  “How do you feel?” Lucien Cross asked.

  “You ever been hit by a truck?” That couldn’t even compare to how I felt, but I’d take every ounce of pain and misery I could get if it meant Lucca would survive.

  “No.” He closed the door and picked up my chart. “Have you?”

  I shifted, grabbing the hot compress before it fell off my hip. By the time the doctors realized Steele had shot me up with heroin, it had been too late to do much of anything. So they pumped me full of antibiotics, gave me fluids, and spent a great deal of time cleaning and treating the bullet hole in my thigh. Since it was the same leg Steele injected, they feared the possibility of infection, abscesses, and other complications was much greater. At this point, I didn’t care.

  “No pain meds?” Cross asked, putting down the chart and examining the x-rays on the lightboard. “That’s a bad decision.”

  “Just like every other one I make.”

  “You’re lucky. Nothing’s broken. The MRI doesn’t show any permanent damage, just some bruising and inflammation around your spine.” He looked at the crappy set of crutches against the wall. “How long will you be on those?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’ll get you a better set. Is your leg still numb?” He touched just below the bandage, and I whimpered. “Guess not.” Taking a pill bottle out of his pocket, he put it on the tray beside me. “Shooting up into a muscle won’t get you that euphoric rush, but you’ll come down just as hard. This will soften your landing. Take one when you can’t stand it. And when that wears off, take half.”

  “Where’d you get your medical degree?” I glared at the unmarked bottle. “Are you dealing now?”

  He snorted. “No. Since you’re too stubborn to get proper medical care, I had to bring the proper care to you.”

  “Leave me alone.”

  But he remained at my bedside. “You look like shit. I’ll get you some ice for your face. Maybe if you comb your hair and change your clothes you won’t look so bad. Cut-off jean shorts stained in blood aren’t a good look. You definitely need to change.” He frowned. “Why didn’t they put you in a hospital gown?”

  “They open in the back, and I’m not in the mood to flash everyone who enters.”

  “Do you have a change of clothes at the office?”

  “Yes, but
I have shorts and a t-shirt in the trunk of my car.”

  He opened the clear plastic bag and found my keys to the company car. “The nurses said you wanted to sign yourself out.”

  “I’m just waiting on the paperwork.”

  “In that case, I’ll get your clothes for you. You don’t need to traumatize the other patients.”

  “Who cares?” I couldn’t figure out why we were having this pointless conversation. None of it mattered. Eddie mattered. The hospital staff didn’t need to waste their time on me. They needed to focus on saving him. “If you want to do me a favor, find out how Lucca is.”

  “Still in surgery. His wife’s been notified. She’s on her way.”

  My chin trembled, and I focused on the physical pain to distract me. “Okay.”

  “I don’t want James to see you like this.” Cross checked his phone. “He’s still at the safe house with Jablonsky. I’m surprised he isn’t here with you.”

  “He doesn’t know yet.”

  “Well, he might figure it out.” Cross fished my necklace and rings out of his pocket and laid them on the tray table beside the pill bottle. “I believe these belong to you. I took the liberty of having the clasp fixed. It was a rush job, but it should hold.”

  “Shouldn’t that be in police evidence?”

  “Why?” Cross asked. “It has nothing to do with anything. And you don’t want a ring like that placed in evidence. Cops have sticky fingers too.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. Do you want to chew me out about getting involved in this and dragging you into the middle of an investigation? If so, go ahead. I don’t give a shit.”

  “It’s fine.” He stared at the large diamond.

  “We’re not married.”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “Well, we’re not.”

  “Okay,” Cross said, “but regardless, James hired me to protect you. You had me withdraw the detail, and now look at you. My client is not going to be happy. My business partner is not going to be happy. And I worked too damn hard to get Martin Tech on board and even harder to get James Martin to sign with me. I am not happy about this. I just have one hard and fast rule, Alex, and that’s don’t fuck with my business. And this,” he gestured at me, “is fucking with my business.”

  “Sorry,” I said, though I didn’t mean it.

  “Let me grab your clothes and some necessities.” Cross checked his watch. “Will you at least try to look presentable?”

  “Sure, boss. Whatever you want.”

  He looked at me again, perhaps seeing how broken I was. “You know, the liver can regenerate, and we can live with a little less than half. That’s why liver transplants happen so often. If you have to be stabbed in a vital organ, that’s a good one to pick.”

  But that didn’t make me feel any better either.

  Thirty-seven

  “Alex,” Jen O’Connell entered the nurses’ lounge, taking a seat on her husband’s lap and giving him a peck on the cheek, “how are you feeling?”

  “Fine.” If one more person asked me that question, I was liable to jump out the window. “How’s Lucca?”

  “Resting. Kelly wants to speak to you.”

  “No.” I stared at the soda machine in the corner, wondering if I could crawl inside and hide. Martin gently squeezed my knee, which was propped up on a pillow on top of his crossed legs since he’d been so insistent that I keep my injury elevated.

  “Okay.” Jen didn’t push. “Do you guys need anything?”

  “We’re okay, honey,” O’Connell said. “Thanks for letting us set up shop in here.”

  “Don’t thank me. Thank the hospital administration.” She gave her husband a kiss. “I’ll meet you at home. Do you think you’ll be late?”

  “Probably.”

  “Okay, I’ll leave your plate in the fridge.” She said her goodbyes and left the lounge.

  “Parker,” O’Connell waited for me to tear my gaze away from the vending machine before he continued, “Francisco Steele’s dead. Warden Schuster admitted he fudged on the prisoner release procedures. He let Steele escape. He let this happen.”

  “Sounds like you’re building a strong case against him.”

  “We are.” O’Connell reread my statement. “I would have thought Heathcliff was Steele’s next target too. You took reasonable action, even if it didn’t pan out.”

  “Eddie didn’t think so. He was right. I was wrong.” My throat tightened. “That should be me. Not him. Me.”

  Martin took my hand and pressed it to his lips. He didn’t agree, but he was smart enough not to say it. But I was sure Kelly Lucca and baby Grace would agree with me. Eddie was their world, and right now, their world could end at any moment.

  “He’ll make it, Parker,” O’Connell insisted.

  “Cooper didn’t.”

  “Alexis,” Martin said gently, “stop.”

  “Did we ever find out how Steele got in and out of the condemned apartment building?” I asked.

  “Rope ladder. Forensics found the metal anchors on the floor beneath the window sill. They must have fallen when Steele tugged the rope free from the window after he climbed down.”

  “How can you be sure that’s what it is?” I asked.

  “When CSU ran tests on the receipt, they found a charge near the bottom. They’re positive that’s what made the indentions on the window sill. He probably climbed down the moment we breached. In the chaos, no one noticed him slip away. And the window was shut. We had no reason to think he jumped out.”

  I scowled. If we’d caught Steele then, Lucca’s life wouldn’t have been jeopardized.

  “We spoke to Tom Collins. He admitted to having prior dealings with Steele. But he thought he was a good guy, just troubled. When Steele got released from prison, he called Tom to pick him up. I think the old man might have been gullible or he saw the wounded adolescent in Steele and wanted to help him. Maybe the guy was just lonely. He gave Steele a ride and some money. But he hasn’t seen him since.”

  “The pre-paid credit card?” I asked.

  O’Connell nodded. “We could probably pursue charges, but Collins is clean. He spent the first sixty-something years of his life as a law-abiding citizen. I don’t think he had any idea what his dealer was capable of.”

  “Did he buy the drugs for his wife?” I asked.

  “Yeah, a few bottles of oxy. The DA’s deciding what they want to do with that information.”

  “It’s a terrible situation,” Martin said.

  “What about the Stop N’ Shop?” I asked.

  “I spoke to Luther Vega about it. Told him Steele was dead and offered him a deal to have him moved out of gen pop, so he’d be safe.” Nick reached for a file near his feet and held it out to me.

  “And?” I asked, having no desire to read.

  “And it turns out Bard had an operation running outside the prison with that particular convenience store. They were transporting drugs to the store by hiding them in shipments of imported sodas. They had an entire process going in the back room, which is also where they’d cut the drugs and do deals. People are in and out all the time. No one thought anything of it. Plus, they’d short out the cameras from time to time to avoid getting caught. Steele heard about it, and once he was out, he went there to pick up everything he needed.”

  “Including guns and cash. Bard must have given the okay.” Nothing happened inside the gang without Bard’s approval.

  “That would be my guess. But you should ask Kendall or Jablonsky. That’s what the OIO had been investigating for the last month.” O’Connell retracted the folder and put it back on top of the pile.

  “That’s why Bard gave the okay,” I said. “He knew Steele would distract us and draw attention away from that.”

  “Or he just wanted revenge and knew Steele was a loaded gun,” Martin suggested.

  O’Connell pointed at him. “That’s what I think.”

  “Either way, it comes down to one simple fact. Steele was nuts.
And he put himself on a collision course with me. Everyone who got in his way became collateral damage.”

  “Not everyone,” Heathcliff said from the doorway. I turned to look at the freshly shaven, respectable detective I had grown accustomed to seeing. He met my eyes. He didn’t have to say it. He was sorry, just like I was.

  We spent another hour going over details. I spoke to Lt. Moretti, Director Kendall, a few members of the DA’s office, several U.S. Marshals, and someone from the Dept. of Corrections. Everyone agreed; Steele took his revenge. This wasn’t a bigger conspiracy or a cartel hit. This was one delusional man who turned into a monster and fixated on me.

  “We found this,” Kendall said, handing me an envelope. “It was hidden in a baggie in the toilet.”

  “I hope you washed it first.” Gingerly, I took the envelope and looked inside. “Was this in Steele’s cell?”

  “Vega’s. But the prints on the phone match Steele. He must have placed it there after they switched. Our behavioral analysts know he fixated on you. He couldn’t have been without the photos and info for long. They both quelled and fed his obsession. I’m surprised he didn’t take it with him. He must not have had time.”

  I flipped through the images, finding several photos from when I testified in court against him. “Did he take these?”

  “We can’t say for sure, but that’d be my guess.” Kendall let out a breath. “Steele planned this from the beginning. It was just a matter of time. No one could have done anything to stop him.”

  I shrugged, not sure if I believed it.

  “When they’re determined like this, they always find a way. You know that, Parker,” Kendall said. He looked down at my leg, still propped on a pillow over Martin’s knee. “I’m glad you’re okay. Have you spoken to Lucca yet? He’s been in and out for the last hour.”

  “No.”

  “You should.”

  Anger boiled up inside. “Lucca never wanted to leave. He came back here to help us. To help the OIO. Jablonsky. Me. You. He’s loyal. You should have done more for him. You should have fought to keep him.”