by Joseph Badal
Barbara saw Susan’s physician come out of her room as she approached.
“Hello, Detective,” the doctor said. “Good to see you again.”
“Thanks,” Barbara said. “How’s my partner?”
“Your partner is remarkably well, considering. She’s improved quite a bit. She’s young and strong. I would be surprised if we don’t release her by the end of the week.”
Barbara realized her joy showed on her face when the doctor added, “Don’t get me wrong, she’ll need extensive physical therapy. But I am confident she will fully recover.”
“May I see her?”
“I think that would do her a lot of good,” the doctor said, smiled at Barbara, and then rushed off.
Susan half-sat, propped against a mound of pillows. She still had tubes coming out of her, but the oxygen mask was gone. She was awake and smiled weakly.
“Hey girl,” Barbara said. She walked to the bed and grabbed Susan’s hand. “Your doctor just told me you might get out of here by the end of the week.”
Susan’s lips moved, but a dry, raspy sound was all that came out. Barbara lifted a plastic cup of water with a straw off the table by the bed and held it so Susan could take a sip.
Susan tried to speak again and managed a hoarsely whispered, “Bullshit!”
“No, really, that’s what your doc just told me.”
Susan’s lips worked again. “I can’t get out of bed to pee and they’ll send me home?”
Barbara had thought about what Susan’s situation would be after she got out of the hospital. She knew the county’s insurance would pay for home healthcare services for a limited number of days. But what then? She suspected it would be an ordeal for Susan to just get dressed.
“I got it all figured out,” she said. “You’ll stay with me until you’re able to come back on the job.”
Susan frowned and slowly shook her head.
“You’ll have someone with you all day, and I’ll be there at night.”
“We can . . . talk about that . . . later.”
“I want to help you, partner.”
Susan nodded. She opened her mouth and then clamped it shut. Barbara waited to see if she would say something. Finally, tears ran down her cheeks and she choked out, “I feel like shit. I—”
“You’ve been shot. You’re supposed to feel that way.”
Susan shook her head. “I’m not talking about the physical, Barbara. I know Manny was a problem, but he was my problem. We were high school sweethearts.” She broke down and cried huge shuddering sobs. It took minutes for her to compose herself. When she looked at Barbara, her eyes were wet, fawn-like. “He didn’t deserve what he got. I feel like I let him down.”
Barbara sat at the bedside until Susan fell asleep, then she walked down to the hospital cafeteria and drank a large cup of bad coffee. She thought about what Susan had said and felt a sharp pang of guilt over her thoughts about Manny’s death. That death had been a relief to her. She’d hated the way Manny reacted to Susan’s success, and she’d worried about the man’s escalating tendency toward violence. Obviously, she hadn’t understood Susan’s feelings for her husband.
After she drank half the coffee and tossed out the remains, she walked back to Susan’s room. She guessed Susan would still be asleep, but she was lonely and wasn’t in a hurry to go to an empty home. Barbara quietly opened the door and tiptoed into the room.
“I thought you’d gone home,” Susan said.
“Just checking on you before I do.”
“How ‘bout telling me what’s going on with the Comstock case?”
Barbara was surprised at Susan’s sudden interest after having been so upset about Manny. But she figured that maybe Susan wanted to push her mind in a less hurtful direction. She made a circle with her thumb and index finger.
“Zero, zilch, nada. I questioned Comstock, Hector Nicastro, and Judy Turner today. Nothing much from any of them. I intend to meet with Connie Alban next.”
“You need help,” Susan said.
“More than you know.”
“Something’s . . . bothering me.”
“About what?” Barbara asked.
“The DVDs. We missed something.”
“What?”
“Don’t know.”
Barbara patted her arm. “It’ll come to you. Maybe when the drugs wear off.”
Susan suddenly smiled at Barbara. “I got drugs. Just have to push this little button and . . . medicate myself. I feel pain . . . I just push the button.”
Barbara was about to warn Susan about getting hooked on the pain medicine, but Susan preempted her. “It’s a game I play. How long . . . can I stand the pain? Gotta get out . . . this shithole.”
Barbara once more patted Susan’s arm. She realized again how much she admired and needed her partner. “Hurry up and get well. I can’t solve this case without you.”
“Put that . . . in writing.”
“Not a chance,” Barbara answered.
Navarro had been in the back of Barbara’s mind most of the day. Now that she was on her way home from the hospital and she had no more calls to make or interviews to conduct until tomorrow, she focused on him. He had gotten to her. He was more than she had ever imagined. Handsome, courageous, a tender and attentive lover. And what a body. She still couldn’t believe he would choose someone like her.
She was hungry and tired when she arrived home. A quick bite and early to bed sounded terrific. But there was something she had to do first. Something she’d committed to when she decided she would no longer drink alcohol. Something that became vital now that Shawn had entered her life. Barbara pulled the telephone directory from its drawer and flipped through the pages.
She dialed the number for Alcoholics Anonymous, listened to a recorded message that listed scheduled meeting times, and wrote down the information. Then she went into her bedroom, undressed, and hung up her clothes. She reached for her bathrobe when she noticed her jogging shoes on the closet floor. She took in a deep breath and told herself she wouldn’t reach her goal without discipline. She’d missed her run this morning. Barbara gathered her jogging clothes and set them out for the morning.
If Shawn Navarro finds me attractive as I am now, she thought, wait until he sees the new me—thirty-five pounds lighter and toned. She’d already lost ten pounds. She laughed out loud with joy, something she’d not felt in a long time.
Susan knew something was wrong. She had gone from finally feeling good for the first time—other than the dull throb of pain in her chest and the difficulty she had breathing—to feeling hot and disoriented. She thought she saw her doctor in her room in the middle of the night, but she wasn’t certain. The heat overwhelmed her. Perspiration covered her body and she thought she might drown. The bedclothes clung to her body and chills racked her body. And then dreams attacked.
Giant Cyclops-like creatures chased her, their single eyes brilliant as though backlit, reflecting her fear as she ran away from them. She could feel their hot breath on the back of her neck.
On and on she ran, over fields, through houses with animal heads mounted on walls, down gauntlets formed by desks occupied by men with large, shiny badges on their chests and open mouths that held long, pointed gnashing teeth.
It seemed she was chased for days, always barely eluding the one-eyed creatures. And then suddenly the creatures melded into one monster. It, too, only had one eye, which projected a shaft of light that stabbed into her like a laser beam and blinded her. The light hurt. She closed her eyes against the painful brightness, but it did no good.
And then the creature metamorphosed into something completely benign. The heat disappeared and she suddenly discovered clarity she had never before experienced.
MONDAY
JULY 5
CHAPTER 61
Barbara was excited about her day: A thirty minute jog, then a visit with Susan. She’d then try to get an extension of the court order Salas had gotten a few days earlier to go through S
tein’s patients’ medical records. That order had expired. Afterward, she’d hopefully meet with Connie Alban and her attorney, try to have a face-to-face with Maxwell Comstock, and go out for a late dinner with Shawn.
The sun had just broken over the top of the Sandia Mountains as she finished stretching and began her jog. She ran along Wyoming Boulevard to the dirt path that started at the corner of the Albuquerque Academy property, ran east past Hoffmantown Church, continued around the church until it met the school property again and then bordered Wyoming on its way back to her starting point. She would attempt two complete circuits of the enormous tract of land.
The first part of the run was uphill, and she labored a bit. But she caught her second wind at the top of the hill and exulted in the feeling of freedom she got from exercise. Her mind seemed to clear of all her doubts and negative thoughts. This would be a great day, she thought.
After her run, she showered and dressed. She carried a small bottle of orange juice to her car and started for the hospital. On her way, she called Bill McWilliams, Connie Alban’s lawyer, and scheduled an appointment with him and Connie for 3:30 that afternoon. It was a little after eight-thirty when she got to the hospital. She asked the floor nurse about Susan’s progress.
“Not so good,” the nurse said. “Ms. Martinez ran a high fever last night. The doctor prescribed a heavy regimen of antibiotics to combat an infection.”
Barbara’s stomach felt as though an acid tap had been turned on inside her. “Is it all right to see her?”
The woman looked at first as though she would say no. “I’ll give you two minutes.”
“Thanks,” Barbara said and rushed down the hall.
Susan’s face was lobster-red and covered with perspiration. When Barbara touched her hand, it was hot. “Hey, partner.”
Susan’s eyes popped open and she gave Barbara a wan smile.
“Hang in, kiddo. They’ll fix you up.”
Susan closed her eyes and licked her cracked lips. Her tongue looked swollen and dry.
Barbara lifted a cup of water off the bedside table and placed the straw in Susan’s mouth. Susan took only a small sip and closed her eyes. She didn’t seem to have any energy. Barbara put the cup back on the table and was about to leave when Susan opened her eyes and tried to say something. Barbara leaned over the bed and took Susan’s hand. “What was that?”
Susan ran her tongue over her lips once more. “Camera.”
“Camera?”
“Stein’s camera. Where?”
Susan tightened her grip on Barbara’s fingers and squeezed until it hurt. “Camera,” she repeated. “Where?”
Suddenly Barbara got it. All of the DVDs had been filmed from the same spot and, in every one of them, the actors—except Stein—seemed oblivious of the camera. If the camera hadn’t been in plain view, where was it?
“I told you I needed your help to solve this case.” She squeezed Susan’s hand. Susan sighed and closed her eyes. The steady beep of the heart monitor sounded reassuring as Barbara left the room.
CHAPTER 62
Barbara retrieved the key to Stein’s home from the evidence clerk at 10 a.m. and immediately drove to Sandia Heights. Why hadn’t she thought to look for a hidden camera? She should have caught on immediately to the fact that the women on the disks, Hector, too, had seemed unaware of its presence.
Yellow crime-scene tape hung around the house. Barbara ripped it away from the front door and used the key to enter. She looked left into the kitchen, checked the dining room and the living room. She knew the deputies had thoroughly searched the place and was surprised they’d left Stein’s house in such an orderly condition. The steps down to the house’s lower level were made of marble and had an ornate black-metal railing. Barbara felt a flutter in the pit of her stomach as she descended the stairs. She’d felt the same many times before at murder scenes even after they had been cleaned up. The flutter seemed more pronounced than usual as she thought about Stein’s German shepherd. Thank God for Animal Control.
The bedroom door was closed. When she opened it, the coppery odor of blood and the reek of human waste assaulted her nostrils. It was at least as bad now as it had been when she’d discovered the body. She checked under the bathroom counter and found a can of aerosol room deodorant. After she sprayed Garden Bouquet in the bedroom, she stood at the bottom of the bed. All the recorded images had been shot from this side of the room. She crouched, back stepped, and tried to assume the same perspective as the camera. But before she succeeded, she backed into the television set. She turned and looked into a decorative tin-framed mirror placed on the wall above the TV. The mirror was about 18 inches square. She hadn’t noticed it before, but it was hung too low to have any utilitarian use. With both hands, she gently lifted it off the wall.
A small ragged hole had been cut in the wall. The lens of a camera—like a one-eyed monster—stared back at her. She turned the mirror around and looked through it. Just like the one-way windows in the interrogation rooms. “Stein, you bastard.”
Barbara laid the mirror on the bed and went around to the other side of the wall, to the walk-in closet. She stepped inside and shoved aside clothes on hangers. Nothing behind the clothes but white-painted stucco. She moved to the left and parted more clothing. A folding-panel wooden door with a small round knob. She pulled on the knob and the door opened out to expose a four-foot-square enclosure. A video camera sat on a tripod. A stack of unused DVDs, still wrapped in cellophane, stood knee-high between the tripod’s legs. An electronic cord ran from the camera to a DVD recorder on the floor to the right of the tripod. Another cord fed into an electrical socket. The camera lens pointed at the hole in the wall. A tiny green light shone on the camera’s side.
Barbara looked through the camera’s eye-piece and got a bird’s-eye view of Stein’s bed. She then pushed the EJECT button on the DVD recorder. An unlabeled disk slid out of the machine.
The back of Barbara’s neck tingled with anticipation. Because someone had smashed in the television screen in the bedroom, she moved through the house, found more TV’s, but no other DVD players.
She checked her watch. It was 11:15 a.m. She had to see Judge Angelica Lynch at 2 p.m. for the court order extension to see Stein’s patient files. Lynch was a by-the-book judge who believed no one should be late for an appointment. Barbara estimated it would take her forty-five minutes to drive from Sandia Heights to the court house, which gave her two full hours to search the rest of the house to make sure the deputies hadn’t missed other hidden spaces. It was 1:20 when she left the house and ran to her car, having found nothing more of value.
Judges, apparently, allowed themselves to be late. Barbara showed up with two minutes to spare and then had to cool her heels for an hour until Judge Lynch would see her. The judge was on the bench and her case had run over the estimated time.
Judge Lynch’s assistant finally told Barbara she could enter the judge’s chambers. She knocked on the door, heard the judge shout, “Come”, and entered chambers.
Lynch in her flowing robes moved toward a clothes tree like a large black bird. Her skin was the color of ebony and she stood a couple inches taller than Barbara. The woman was nothing less than imperious—an Amazon with power. She pointed at a chair on the other side of her desk and ordered, “Sit!” Then she shed her robe and hung it up. She wore a snow-white blouse, a black skirt, and black pumps that looked inadequate to prop up her imposing figure. She moved to her desk chair and sat.
“Thanks for seeing me, Judge,” Barbara began. “I appreciate—”
Lynch leaned forward. “Here’s the deal, Detective. I’ll sign the search warrant extension for Dr. Stein’s office. You get forty-eight hours to match names on files against names on the DVDs found at the murder scene. You will not read anything in those files about the patients’ medical conditions, treatments, prescriptions, etc. If one of the names on a DVD matches one or more names on the files, you may look at the contact information in those files
. That’s it. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Judge.”
“Good,” Lynch said. She signed the warrant and passed it across the desk. Then she stood, moved to the clothes tree, selected a staid business jacket, and put it on. She looked at Barbara and said, “We’re done.”
As badly as Barbara wanted to go through Stein’s files, she was even more anxious to view the video she’d taken from the hidden camera in Stein’s home. But she had to meet Bill McWilliams and Connie Alban in just a few minutes. On her way to McWilliams’s downtown office, her cell phone chirped.
“Lassiter,” she barked.
“Hey, Barbara,” Navarro said, “having a shitty day?”
Barbara felt a chill of excitement run down her spine. This man had the same effect on her every time she heard his voice. “Actually, other than Susan getting an infection and having to meet with a judge, it’s a pretty good day. How are you?”
“I’d be a lot better if I was with you. We still on for dinner tonight.”
“7:30 at N.Y.P.D. Pizza,” she said. “By the way,” she added, “I called AA.”
“You’re going through with it, huh?”
“You bet.”
“I’m proud of you, Barbara.”
She was amazed at how those simple words made her feel—like a little kid complimented by an adoring parent. “Thanks.” She wanted to say something more, but didn’t know what, exactly.
“Any progress on the case?”
“I’m going to search Stein’s files.”
“What will that get you?”
“Good question. I really don’t know. It may be nothing more than police grunt work.”
“Anything else?”
“Oh yeah. But I’m almost at Bill McWilliams’s office now. I’ve got a meeting with him and Connie. I’ll tell you about everything tonight.”
“Come on, Barbara. You’re holding out on me.”
Barbara laughed as she patted her purse where she had Stein’s video disk. “Suck it up, big guy. It will be worth the wait.”
