Secrets of the Sapphires

by T. Sue VerSteeg

  Garrett climbed over the piles of splintered wood and twisted metal, slipping to the ground next to him. There lay Nia, bruised, cut, and pale. He scooped her lifeless form into his arms, burying his face in her hair.

  “Damn it, Nia. Why did you lie to me?” A renegade tear trailed from the corner of his eye, quickly lost in her tresses. The familiar scent filled his senses as he inhaled a deep breath to regain control. When he slid a hand across her chin and framed her face, he felt the faintest of heartbeats. He turned his shocked gaze toward Levinson. “My phone is in the car. Call an ambulance! She’s still alive!”

  The older man jumped to his feet, digging through the remnants of his desk to find his cell phone. He turned to Garrett. “I can’t find it!” Without any hesitation, Levinson scrambled over the piles of debris and dug through the pockets of the dead guards. He held up a Blackberry. “Bingo!”

  Garrett gently lifted Nia from the ground, holding her close while he navigated his way to the door. “Tell them to meet me in the parking garage.” He made his way to the lobby, passing by shocked employees. Even the always smiling receptionist went pale. Various mumblings and questions about what happened floated by, but Garrett continued on into the garage, the wail of the ambulance’s siren instilling hope in his doubtful soul. Within minutes the paramedics arrived and had Nia on a stretcher.

  As he hiked a leg onto the bumper following Nia into the back, a hand grabbed his shoulder. The cold steel of a gun poked into his neck.

  “Freeze.”

  Garrett dropped his foot to the ground and put his hands in the air. He recognized the voice as the cop who shot out his window.

  He turned and faced the officer. “You have no idea what happened.”

  “I know enough to place you under arrest. You have the right to remain silent…” The officer grabbed Garrett’s wrist with one hand, raising his other hand to slap on the cuffs.

  Levinson intervened. He pulled his badge from his dirty, tattered jacket, shoving it in the beat cop’s face. “Director Levinson with the CIA. You’re impeding one of my detectives from finishing his case.”

  “He…I…” the young cop stuttered, “he led me on a chase from Elm and Seventh. He had a sword…with blood dripping from it. That isn’t typical protocol for any case.”

  “And Van Deren isn’t your typical detective. If you need a statement, I’d be happy to give you one. Let the man go.”

  When the officer released Garrett’s arm, he followed the paramedic into the back of the ambulance. He sat next to Nia, brushing her hair behind her ear.

  “What happened to her?” the balding paramedic asked while sliding a tube down Nia’s throat and hooking her to a respirator.

  Garrett shook his head. “I’m not sure.”

  It wasn’t a complete lie. He didn’t actually witness anything in the division, though he saw firsthand the evil that tried to take her down. Besides, telling the man who worked so diligently to save Nia’s life exactly what happened would undoubtedly make him send orders to have Garrett locked up in a mental facility when they reached the hospital.

  The paramedic had a calm, methodic nature about him and proceeded to put an IV into Nia’s arm on the first try, regardless of the moving, jostling vehicle. He pushed the button in on the radio attached to his shoulder. “We have a woman in her late twenties with obvious blunt force trauma to the head, chest and groin. She has multiple contusions and lacerations over her torso, upper arms and legs. Her pulse is weak and thready. Her breathing is labored and shallow; she’s been intubated and placed on a respirator. I believe there to be internal bleeding. We have no time to make it to St. John’s. Have St. Francis prep an O.R. and get a surgeon on standby.”

  Garrett’s heart sunk a little further with each word the paramedic spoke. Gregor was still trying to drag her to Hell and having St. Francis, the butt crack of hospitals, as the one to save her life, scared him even more.

  He leaned over, whispering in her ear. “Don’t leave me, Nia. I’ll be damned if I let you die.”

  The slow, steady beep of the monitor picked up speed. Garrett squeezed her hand. “That’s it. Don’t make me have to die and come kick your ass in the afterworld.” He leaned over her, placing a light kiss on her lips. A glimmer in her cleavage caught his eye.

  The sapphire.

  He dipped his fingers between Nia’s breasts, a smile curling his lips. With his mouth against her ear, he whispered, “Fort Knockers saves the day yet again.” He slid the gem into his pocket and brushed her bangs from her face.

  The ambulance screamed into the round drive of the emergency room entrance. Nia was quickly unloaded. The huge old hospital stood before them, dark and foreboding. A frenzy of hospital workers greeted them, barking orders to each other, the chaos nearly more than he could handle. His head began spinning as he followed the gurney toward the automatic doors.

  The man who had just patched Nia up put a hand on Garrett’s shoulder. “They won’t let you back there, man. She’s being taken directly into an operating room.” He pointed toward a side door. “Go check in over there. They’ll make sure you’re told of any changes.”

  Garrett walked to the door he’d been pointed toward with shoulders slumped, clothes filthy and blood spattered, his spirit broken. St. Francis Hospital greeted him in all its outdated glory, complete with dingy yellow floors, walls papered in early 80’s teal, cracked ceiling tiles. The portly older woman behind the check-in desk never even looked away from the computer screen in front of her.

  “May I help you?” Her voice conveyed none of the comfort or compassion one would expect from an emergency room attendant. Instead, undoubtedly due to her interrupted solitaire game, it held cold contempt.

  “Could you please keep me advised of Nia Brooks’ condition?” Garrett fought to keep his emotions in check. The woman’s frigid demeanor actually helped as anger pressed for domination.

  “And you are?” The graying woman finally looked at him, her lips pursed in a sneer

  “I’m her…partner.” He thought about clarifying the term “partner,” but figured he’d get more information if she assumed they were a couple. Besides, they sort of were.

  Weren’t they?

  A crooked brow was the only response the woman offered. She snatched up the phone receiver, turning her back to Garrett, mumbling something in hushed tones. When she finally looked at him again, her face was creased into a scowl. “I’ll let you know when I hear something.”

  “Anything.” Garrett cocked his head to the side, returning her glare.

  “If you keep yourself parked right over there,” her finger shot out toward a tiny waiting room, “then I’ll be sure to update you when I know something.”

  He slid into one of the uncomfortable, straight-backed, rickety chairs in the miniature room, allowing his face to drop into his hands. The scent of year old coffee assaulted his nose along with the faint smell of body odor. Tears pooled in his eyes. He fought hard to keep them in check. His fingers threaded through his hair as he leaned back again and heaved an exhausted breath. He allowed his mind to wander back, way back. Back to the medieval time they spent together. Back to the hot, spring fed pond. As he had closed his eyes and actually relaxed, a familiar voice crowded into his head.

  “You look like hell, man,” Levinson taunted.

  Garrett opened his eyes, scanning the other man’s torn clothing and sooty face. “Not unlike yourself.” He watched his boss’s brow crease and added, “Sir.”

  “Have you heard anything?”

  Leaning forward, Garrett stretched, shook his head and pointed toward the front desk. “No. I made Ms. Ray-of-Sunshine promise to update me with even the tiniest of details.”

  His boss released a chuckle. “That would explain her excitement when I told her I was with you.”

  Garrett locked his gaze with Levinson’s. “What happened while I was gone?”

  Levinson sat in the beat up, miss-matched chair next to him. “Well, let’s say th
at if I hadn’t worked this job for so long, I never would have believed my eyes. This Gregor guy was evil. I mean with a capital E, evil. He couldn’t get rid of the handcuffs with his mind. He could, however, break stuff and control people. He did just that. Those two security guards got tossed around the room like rag dolls. They were dead within minutes, but Gregor kept bouncing them off of walls, shelves, other people… Anyway, you saw for yourself the damage that was done.”

  “What about Lexie? I didn’t see her down there. I assume that she’s resting uncomfortably behind bars.”

  “Yeah, you’d be assuming wrong then. She didn’t like being backed into a corner. She grabbed my gun and took Shrek as a hostage. They were actually lucky. That was before Gregor started throwing his hissy fit. When I know that Nia is okay, I’m going after the little blonde bitch myself. I can’t believe I was so blind.” He leaned against the wall, shaking his head. “I guess I trusted that she really was naive and clueless. I mean, she was very convincing.”

  Garrett snorted. “Tell me about it. I didn’t think she had it in her to be so conniving as to change mission orders.”

  “There’s more.” Levinson’s hand came to rest on Garrett’s shoulder. “Nia found proof that Lexie is responsible for the murder of your old partner, too.”

  After staring at his boss with a gaping mouth, he closed it and cleared his throat. “I knew it was someone in the department. By responsible, do you mean that Lexie actually killed Tara?”

  “She was in charge. It seems that Lexie has been after you in a romantic way for some time now. Anyone who even poses a remote threat at interfering has come to a sad end the past couple of years. Does the name Shari Clark ring any bells?”

  Garrett nodded and then shook his head. “She’s dead?”

  “Well, presumed dead. The search for her lasted for about six months. She hasn’t contacted any family or friends, her purse was found in her abandoned car.” Levinson stood and started to pace the scuffed tile floor. “How about Chelsea Yonkers?”

  “She moved back overseas last year. Told me she needed space.”

  “Again, she hasn’t contacted any family or friends. Never showed up in London, either.”

  Garrett threaded his fingers through his hair. “So you’re telling me that I signed those girl’s death warrants just by dating them?”

  “I guess our little Lexie was a bit on the possessive side.” He stopped pacing in front of Garrett. “I take it there was more than work between you and Tara then?”

  “Briefly. We both agreed it wasn’t going to work out. It was one of those ‘heat of the moment’ situations. We had the sexual tension between us. There just wasn’t any chemistry. I would have taken a bullet for her though.”

  “Any partner worth his badge would. Don’t beat yourself up. It isn’t like you knew this was happening.” Levinson’s face went blank. “You, uh, didn’t know this was happening, did you?”

  Garrett jumped to his feet. “Absolutely not, sir!”

  “Sorry. I learned a very valuable lesson today. I’m not taking anything for granted.”

  “You’d better hope you get to the blonde bitch before I do. She won’t make it in for questioning if I find her first,” Garrett seethed through clenched teeth.

  “Wouldn’t blame you a bit. I’d probably look the other way if there was no condemning evidence against you.”

  An automated voice stopped them both in their tracks. “Code Blue, Surgery.” The staunch woman’s voice taunted them by repeating the same words over and over again.

  Garrett stared at the speaker mounted near the ceiling in the cobweb filled corner, willing it to shut up. That didn’t happen. He picked up a plastic table stand full of pamphlets and threw it at the speaker, breaking the container, scattering diabetes literature across the floor.

  The room went silent.

  As though on cue, the nurse walked into the room, hands on her padded hips, face puckered. “You’ll be paying for that, young man.” She waggled a chubby finger in his face.

  He grabbed the portly woman by the shoulders. “I’ll pay you a million dollars if you tell me Nia isn’t the one who just coded.”

  She stared at Garrett’s hands one at a time. Pausing on each clenched fist for several seconds, her eyes scanned back and forth between them and his face before answering him. “As much as I could use the million dollars, it was Ms. Brooks.”

  Garrett’s heart ripped into tiny little pieces, the tears he’d held back now trailing from the corners of his eyes. Desperation crushed his gut.

  A pudgy hand shot in front of his face. “Before you go getting all mushy on me and make me think you actually have feelings for someone other than yourself, they were able to stabilize Ms. Brooks and are finishing the surgery. If they can keep her stable, the doctor should be out to talk to you soon.” She rolled her eyes, turning on her heels to leave. She spun back around, pointing at the floor. “You’d best be picking those up now.”

  Garrett smiled, hugging the cranky woman to his chest, even kissing her on top of the head before he released her. She shot an angry glare at him then a slight smile curled the corner of her lips as she shook her head and left. He even caught a glimpse of Levinson wiping his face with his sleeve. The two picked up every last brochure, even some trash left by previous people before they sat down.

  Levinson laughed. “I knew she was too stubborn to die.”

  “Truer words have not been spoken.” Garrett slumped in his chair, dropping his head back against the wall; his entire body felt rubberized. “So, any leads on Lexie’s whereabouts?”

  “I’ll leave anything we have on your desk—what’s left of your desk—when I get back to the office. Right now, concentrate on our girl in there.” Levinson nodded down the hall as a man in royal blue scrubs walked through the door.

  “Garrett Van Deren?” the distinguished man asked.

  Popping to his feet again, Garrett walked to the surgeon. “That’s me. How’s Nia?”

  The doctor pushed his matching scrub hat from his head, folding it in his hands. His gaze flicked back and forth between his fingers and Garrett, deeply unsettling him.

  Garrett straightened his posture, hoping to exude strength he really didn’t feel. “Just give it to me straight.”

  “Well,” the graying man started, “I can only hope I’m not standing in front of the person who beat her.”

  Shaking his head, Garrett flashed his badge to assure the surgeon, “Nia is an agent for the CIA. I’m her partner. This all happened in the line of duty.”

  Levinson showed his credentials as well. Understanding lit the doctor’s eyes. He shot his hand out to shake Garrett’s, “In that case, my name is Dr. Kingsley. That’s a huge relief because we thought we were facing a domestic violence case.”

  Levinson interjected, “As their boss, I can assure you that this was in the line of duty. They are, however, undercover. This information goes no farther than this room.”

  “Understood.” The doctor nodded. “Now, as for the patient’s status, I have to let you know that I can’t guaranty recovery, or even that she’ll ever wake up. I repaired everything I could internally. I’m afraid there’s swelling in her brain and damage to vital organs. She’s stable for now, though her prognosis is anyone’s best guess for a while.”

  Garrett stared at his feet. “When can I see her?”

  “She’s in recovery. I’ll have the nurse let you know when she’s been moved to a room.” The doctor placed a hand on Garrett’s arm. “If you’re a praying man… Well, even if you aren’t, now’s the time to start.” He turned and left the room.

  Garrett looked away from his feet; the room seemed to bobble. He leaned against the wall and everything came back into focus. His mind reeled at all of the doctor’s words; the praying part rang loudest. He left his boss sitting in the waiting room and walked up to the nurse’s desk.

  “Excuse me.” He cleared his throat. The same nurse turned toward him, this time with compa
ssion in her eyes. Garrett continued, “Can you tell me where the chapel is?”

  “Third floor, right off of those elevators.” She motioned toward the wall behind him. “Don’t worry; I’ll have someone find you if there’s any change or when she’s moved to a room.”

  “Thank you.” His words were just a whisper, though her sympathetic smile let him know they were heard.

  He walked out of the elevator, staring into the chapel. High ceilings were painted with angels, stained glass windows depicted the disciples’ journeys, a large cross stood at the end of the aisle. Christ hung from the cross, a crown of thorns adorning His head, His gaze cast downward. Garrett fell to his knees at the altar, dropping his elbows to the floor, his head in his hands.

  “God, I know I’m not exactly one of Your faithful followers,” he sputtered through his tears, “I’m not even faithful to much of anything or anyone, but I’m not here about me. I’m here for Nia. She’s amazing, God, and doesn’t deserve to die. Take me instead if You have to take someone.” He looked up toward the man on the cross. “I could sit here, promising a bunch of things that You and I both know I’d screw up the first chance I got, so I won’t waste Your time. You know me; You know my heart, too. I’m pretty sure You know Nia’s as well. She’s a beautiful person both inside and out. Well, once you get past the sarcasm. I know that’s only a front, covering for all of the pain and guilt she carries inside. She has so much to give this world…not to mention that she makes this world bearable for me.”

  Garrett pulled himself up off the floor, taking a seat in a pew. “About the whole trying to have sex in Your house the other day. Well, the other year actually, if you want to get technical. Won’t happen again.” A lopsided smile crossed his face. He stared at the cross and felt a sense of peace wash over him. His head tilted to the side, leaned against the back of the pew, and he closed his weary eyes.

  A hand on his shoulder yanked him from what seemed to be a few seconds of sleep. His gaze snapped to the smiling nurse standing in the aisle, filling him with hope for the first time since he’d entered the hospital