by Robin Caroll
“Maybe. Or maybe they left some DNA or something in the cart.”
“I’ll request a rush,” Brody said as he plopped down behind his desk.
“I’m going to grab the quilt and head over to the hospital. Maybe Sophia’s remembered something new.”
Brody grinned and shook his head.
“What?”
Brody just kept shaking his head. “Nothing, man.”
Julian didn’t want to have this discussion anyway. “Okay. Call me if you find out anything.” He headed toward the evidence room, his step a little lighter.
Why he got excited over the idea of seeing Sophia, he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t even sure if he liked the idea.
10
Oh . . . mercy. She could frighten children with how scary she looked.
Sophia blinked and stared at her reflection in the mirror over the sink in her new hospital room’s bathroom. It was the first time she had been able to see the damage done to her face.
She looked like Frankenstein. Three long cuts, two on her forehead and one along the top of her left cheekbone, held rows of stitches. Both her eyes had been blackened and the bruising was now a deep purple. Her right eye even had the lovely yellow-brown extending up into her eyebrow. Her lip had been busted, and now, the scab was bigger than the largest cold sore known to man.
Yep, she looked like Frankenstein.
“You okay in there?” Charlie called out.
She knocked on the door, hoping Charlie would realize that meant she was fine. Well, that was quite an overstatement.
Sophia stared at her reflection again. God, please. I didn’t think I was vain, but this . . . oh, Lord. Tears filled her eyes, but she swiped them away with the back of her hand. She jerked off the gloves and tossed them in the trash, then touched her face with the only exposed part of her hands—her fingertips. When the nurse had changed her dressings last night, she’d left the tips of Sophia’s fingers exposed. At least she had feeling in her fingertips.
She blinked a final time before opening the bathroom door.
“Ready to get back in bed now?” Charlie held Sophia’s arm, taking on most of her weight.
Sophia nodded and let Charlie help her back into the hospital bed. After being moved to a new room and having been fed a breakfast of juice and Jell-O, she’d felt more energized than ever. As soon as Charlie had come, she’d gotten the nurse’s approval to get up and about. After just three laps around the larger hospital room, Sophia was drained. A row of sweat beads dotted her upper lip.
It felt good to be doing something physical again. Not too surprising since her body was used to strenuous workouts daily. Even if she could never do mat work again, she needed to stay in shape. She always had, even as a little girl, stretched with her mother and worked out in the dance studio.
She pushed away the grief threatening to cripple her as she realized she’d never get to see Mamochka pirouette again. Or hug her. Or hear her voice.
Sophia let out a heavy sigh and leaned back against the pillows. Charlie helped straighten the covers over her. “There. All better.”
A light knock sounded.
“Ms. Montgomery,” a doctor said as he entered. No nurse trailed his steps carrying a chart. His gaze fixed on Charlie sitting beside the bed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had visitors. I’ll come back later.”
“No, Charlie’s my translator, since I still can’t speak.”
He stopped and turned back to Sophia. “Interesting,” he said, almost under his breath. “It’s fine. I’ll be back later.”
“But she can translate what I need to say.”
He rushed from the room without a response.
Frustration clawed up Sophia’s spine. Who was this doctor? Or was he a lab technician? Their white coats all looked the same
to her.
“Want me to chase him down?” Charlie asked.
Sophia shook her head and mouthed, “Probably wouldn’t do any good anyway. The only doctor who seems to be able to give me any information is Dr. Rhoads. I haven’t even seen my hand surgeon.” The idea flitted across her mind. “You don’t think it was him, do you?” Lord, she hoped not, because he didn’t exactly exude confidence.
“I don’t know. I can go ask if you want.” Charlie stood.
“No. If it’s him, he’ll be back later, like he said.” Still, his behavior was odd. And wouldn’t every doctor who looked at her chart realize she couldn’t speak? Had he even bothered to read her chart?
“So, do you want some water?” Charlie lifted the big insulated cup on the bedside table.
“Please. You’d think I was dehydrated or something.”
Charlie eased the straw between her lips. “Well, you did exert yourself walking around.”
The cold water felt smooth all the way down Sophia’s throat. Refreshing. She’d never realized how good water actually tasted. Or maybe she was just starting to appreciate the little things.
Charlie pulled the straw back and a drop of water dribbled down Sophia’s chin. “Oops.” She grabbed a tissue from the box on the table and patted away the wetness. “There. Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m surprised Julian didn’t spill any broth on me last night.”
Charlie leaned her hip against the side rail of the bed. “Julian fed you last night?”
Heat spread all across Sophia’s face and neck, and she dropped her gaze to the bed sheet. “Well, it was kinda by accident,” she mouthed.
Charlie bent over and put her face where Sophia could see it. “I can’t read your lips if I can’t see your mouth.”
“Sorry.” Sophia straightened. “It wasn’t intentional. They brought me the broth, then left before Julian could protest, and I was so hungry my stomach growled, and then when I smelled it, my stomach growled even louder and Julian felt sorry for me . . .”
Charlie grinned. “Hey, don’t run out of breath explaining it to me, girl.”
Heat flamed in Sophia’s face, but she managed to keep her head upright.
“Hey, I’m just teasing you.”
“I know.” But her face continued to burn.
“Oh,” Charlie whispered. “I see.”
Embarrassment spread throughout Sophia’s stomach. “Is it that obvious?” she mouthed.
“Sophia.” Charlie eased into the chair. “Julian’s a great guy, don’t get me wrong. I like him.”
“But?”
“But you are a victim in a case he’s working. It’s natural for you to view him as a hero and feel some sort of attraction to him.”
“I know.” Sophia felt even more miserable. She knew Charlie was right, but it didn’t stop her feelings.
“Hey.” Charlie touched Sophia’s leg to get her attention. “It’s okay. Nothing to be embarrassed about. Your secret is safe with me, okay?”
“Thanks.” Sophia smiled.
A knock sounded, then Julian poked his head around the corner. “Okay to come in?”
“Sure,” Charlie answered. “We’re just talking about how your feeding ability last night was better than mine.”
“Oh.” There was an unmistakable uncertainty tone to his voice.
Charlie laughed. “I spilled water on her. Guess I need to work on my bedside manner.”
“Well, I come bearing gifts.” Julian did, in fact, walk in with a stuffed plastic garbage bag in tow.
“Presents?” Charlie looked from Julian to Sophia, then back to Julian.
Sophia’s heart pounded. And pounded. And pounded. Even as heat flushed to her cheeks. The cheeks she knew were swollen
and cut.
Julian opened the bag and pulled out her mother’s quilt, and all concerns about how monsterish she looked disappeared. He spread the quilt over the bed.
Sophia didn’t fight the tears as she ran her fingertips over the familiar material, letting the memories run through her . . .
“Mamochka, what’s this costume from?”
“Ah, that, my sweet, was when I danc
ed as Slyph in La Sylphide.”
Sophia touched the white, gauzy bodice. “It’s beautiful. I bet you made Slyph beautiful.”
“A sylph is a mythical creature, beautiful already because it doesn’t really exist.” Laughing, Mamochka planted a kiss atop Sophia’s head. “The ballet itself is actually a sad story of a man named James who chases after a mythical creature, leaving his fiancée at the altar. He ends up trapping the sylph, but it kills her. Then he watches his fiancée marry his best friend, so he is left all alone.”
“How sad.” Sophia stared at the quilt square made with the white material. “What happened to your James, Mamochka?”
“My James? Oh, you mean the man who danced with me in the ballet?”
Sophia nodded.
Mamochka frowned. “Dimitri chased what he couldn’t have, too, and ended up alone.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Your father, now HE was a true hero, and beautiful in every way.”
“It’s breathtaking,” Charlie whispered almost reverently, pulling Sophia back to the present.
“Yes, it is,” Sophia mouthed. “Thank you, Julian, for bringing it to me.”
“I told you I’d bring it to you.” She didn’t miss the hue of red filling his face.
From the expression on Charlie’s face, she hadn’t missed it either.
“I don’t know what got on it there,” he pointed to the large stain on the center, focal point of the quilt, the whole Sugar Plum Fairy costume.
“Oh, it’s always been there.” Mamochka had always told her the red stain represented the blood of every ballet dancer. “I think it was a soda or something.”
“Well, forensics extracted some of it and is running tests. It’s just policy.”
Charlie’s eyes feasted on the quilt. She ran her hand over one of the corner squares with pink satin material. “This is exquisite.”
Sophia smiled and nodded. “It’s from when she danced as Medora in Le Corsaire.” She closed her eyes and remembered the story. “Mamochka was seventeen and had just graduated and been accepted to the New York City Ballet Company. She’d earned her soloist rank after dancing the title role in Raymonda, but she wasn’t content to be one among so many. The role of Medora gave her the opportunity to shine.”
Sophia opened her eyes and met Charlie’s intense stare. “Do you know the story of Le Corsaire?”
Charlie shook her head, slowly, as if mesmerized.
Sophia glanced at Julian on the other side of her bed. He, too, looked spellbound.
“Well, it’s loosely based on the poem, The Corsair, by Lord Byron.”
“Oh. I know the poem,” Charlie said. “The ballet is about the poem? I have to admit, I was always attracted to Conrad.”
Sophia nodded. “He was quite the noble character. I loved the poem. My mother said after she’d danced as Medora, it allowed her to join the rank of the principals with the company.”
“I bet. I’d love to see that ballet.”
Sophia gave her a smile, then turned to Julian. “Thank you so much for bringing this to me. It means a lot.” Her stomach tightened as she fought to remember Charlie’s admonishment.
She was just a victim in the case he was working.
Nothing more.
* * *
Her smile made his adrenaline rush as though he’d just run a
hundred-yard dash. “You’re quite welcome.” No, he needed to stay on a business level. He was the detective on her mother’s murder case.
Julian cleared his throat. “I do have a couple of questions for you.” He pulled his notebook from his pocket.
“Go ahead,” she mouthed and Charlie said.
“Do you know a Roger and Linda Parrish?”
She nodded. “They’re my mother’s neighbors. I don’t really know them know them. I know their daughter, Christi, better. She’s a few years older than me. She took dance lessons from Mamochka at the studio. Why?”
“We’re just following up on some leads.”
“Do you think they’re involved in this?” Sophia shook her head. “Mrs. Parrish is a bit of a gossip, but they’re nice people. I remember Mr. Parrish came over to fix our kitchen sink one night when a gasket blew and water spewed out everywhere. We couldn’t get the water to stop and it was after five. She called Mr. Parrish and he came right over. Turned off the water to the tap so we could wait until morning to call the plumber. Nice man.”
He could tell she was agitated about the possibility of the couple being involved. “They were out of town on Thursday night.” Although, the police were checking their alibi, just to be thorough.
“Oh. Good. I mean, not good, but I can tell you, Roger Parrish was not one of the men who attacked me and my mother.”
“I understand. However, we do believe Roger Parrish’s golf cart was the means the attackers used to arrive at your place undetected.” Using the golf cart meant easier access, and they returned it, believing no one would ever know it’d been used.
And just when her face had begun to show more natural color and not the pallor of illness, he had to tell her more things that made her pale by the second.
“What do you mean?”
“It means he came forward with the information that someone had used his golf cart, then put it back, assuming he wouldn’t notice it’d been used, while he was out of town.”
Sophia laughed. “Mr. Parrish would notice if a leaf on his rosebushes in the front flowerbed had been touched. I remember Christi used to complain he was obsessed with organization.”
It was nice to see her smile back. “Well, it’s serving us well he’s so obsessed. Had he not noticed his golf cart had been moved, we might not have ever known how they arrived at your place.”
Her smile slid off her face.
Positive, Frazier. Be more positive.
“We are impounding it as we speak to have forensics go over it with a fine-tooth comb. We’re hopeful we can find something to reveal the identity of the attackers.”
“Hopeful or hoping?” Charlie crinkled her nose. “The emphasis was from her, too.”
“I figured.” He met Sophia’s stare head-on.
And was nearly undone by the raw grief shimmering in her eyes. She looked so fragile, yet he knew she was such a strong young woman . . .
“It’s okay. I know you’re doing everything you can.”
He’d find who was responsible. He would not let her down.
“Hey, at least he doesn’t run off like your doctor,” Charlie laughed to Sophia, who grinned.
Julian shot Charlie a quizzical look.
“Earlier, a doctor came in to see Sophia. He saw me, said he didn’t realize she had company and would come back later, and ran away.” She grinned wider at Sophia. “Maybe I scared him off.”
It didn’t sound right. “Which doctor was this?” he asked.
Sophia shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d never seen him before. I thought he might be my hand surgeon. Although . . .”
Julian’s gut clenched. “Although what?”
“Well, he seemed surprised I couldn’t speak. I would have thought my surgeon who is supposed to be reading my chart every day would know that.” She shrugged again. “Or maybe he thought I should’ve made quicker progress with my vocal chords healing.”
“When was this? About what time did he come by?” The clenching in Julian’s gut intensified.
Sophia and Charlie locked stares. “About an hour to an hour and half ago, maybe?”
“Hang on, I’ll be right back.” He rushed from the room, storming to the nurses’ station. He pulled his badge. “Right now, I need to know what doctors have been on this floor in the last two hours.”
“Uh . . . let me get the charge nurse for you, sir,” the young, wide-eyed, ponytailed, blonde nurse stammered.
“Please hurry and get her.” He pushed away from the counter and glanced up and down the hall.
He marched to the officer stationed outside Sophia’s room. “About an hour and a hal
f ago, a doctor came into the room and left quickly.”
The officer nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Who was he?”
“I-I don’t know, sir. He hadn’t been in to see her before.”
“And you just let him in?” What was wrong with this uniform? Didn’t he realize there was a reason he was stationed outside her room?
“Sir, he wore one of the doctors’ white coats and had a hospital ID badge on.”
“Did you catch the name on the badge?”
“No, sir.”
Great. It could’ve belonged to a janitor for all they knew. The young uniformed officer looked like he’d been called to the principal’s office.
In a way, he had. He should have documented every person’s name who came into Sophia’s room. Her mother had been murdered, and she’d been left for dead. If they’d found out she was still alive . . . her life was at stake.
“I was told you wanted to see me,” a woman’s voice drew his attention back down the hall.
Julian pointed at the officer. “I’ll discuss this in more detail with you in just a few minutes.” He headed to the nurses’ station. “Yes.” He flashed his badge again. “I need a list of every doctor who’s been on this floor over the last two hours.”
“I can tell you which ones have made rounds. I can tell you who has checked in, but we have no way to keep track of every single doctor’s whereabouts in a hospital this size.”
Julian glanced at the half-globe on the ceiling. He pointed at it. “Is that a security camera?”
The charge nurse followed his point. “Yes.”
“Thank you.” Julian rushed back to Sophia’s room. He took a deep breath before he stepped inside.
“Julian, what’s going on?” Sophia mouthed, her face pale again.
Charlie didn’t look much better.
“I’m just checking on a few things. I’ll be back soon.” He turned to leave.
Charlie grabbed his arm just as he reached the door. “Julian.”
“I don’t know,” he whispered, knowing the question. “I’m going to look and see if I can see who it was on the security cameras.”
“You don’t think it was a doctor?”
“I need to check it.”
