“She a victim or a perp, doc? What kind of crime?”
“A victim. Mugging.”
“That’d be Captain Person.” The uniform pointed to a row of offices along the front wall. “Go all the way down this hall, last office on the left.”
Scott yelled his thanks as he ran. Moving down the hall, he couldn’t help noticing that the station was buzzing with activity, most of it near the office to which he’d been directed. Just like a hospital, he’d bet this place was busy 24/7.
As he approached the last office, he dodged a phalanx of officers surrounding a large, shifty-looking man with a vicious gash across the bridge of his nose into his left eye. The man needed an eye surgeon. Looked as if someone had tried to take his eye out.
Then Scott knew.
“Wait, officers.” Scott stood in front of the V-formation the policemen’s bodies made to contain their prisoner.
“No need to patch him up here, doc,” the officer at the point of the V said. “We’re transferring him to Charity to the lock-up ward.”
“Is this the guy who tried to mug Jeanette LaFleur?”
Scott couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice. The point officer pushed the damaged mugger away from Scott, his hand moving to hover over his weapon..
“Yes, sir. But you let the justice system handle him. Ya hear me?” The officer looked down at Scott’s hands, then back up to his eyes. “Come on, doc. You don’t want to do this. The little lady took care of him good enough.”
Scott clenched and unclenched his fists. His breaths came fast and furiously. Hippocratic Oath be damned. He wanted to put his fist in the bastard’s damaged eye and finish the job Jeannie had started.
Then it struck him. She’d saved herself. His petite little Jeannie, one of the most feminine, gentle woman God had ever put on this earth, had taken this hulking bastard out. He closed his eyes, unclenched his fists, and let out a slow calming breath. Thank God, he and Paul had insisted she take those self-defense courses. He remembered her telling them she would never be able to blind someone. But she had. She had done what needed to be done. How he could be bursting with feelings of pride and revenge at the same time, he didn’t know. He only knew that he didn’t need to exact the vengeance he was feeling. Jeannie had taken care of it.
“Sorry, officers.” Scott held up his hands and smiled. “Just keep him healthy so he can go to jail. I’m sure he’ll never live down the fact that a five-foot, two-inch, dainty little bit of a gal bested him.”
The policemen laughed. One of the men shouted, “Ya got that right, doc. Ole One-Eye here will be somebody’s best girlfriend.” The officers roared with laughter as they escorted the sullen mugger down the hall.
Scott turned to stare at the closed door to Person’s office. Before entering, he needed to clear his mind. He didn’t want Jeannie to see any remnants of the ugly feelings that had coursed through him at the sight of her attacker. She’d had enough ugliness today.
He knocked on the door and heard a muffled “Come in.”
After entering the room, he saw only Jeannie. He picked her up and hugged her. Her hair smelled of wisteria — and sweat. He shuddered. He could only imagine her terror. Once more he silently thanked God for her safety. He rubbed her trembling back as she cried silently into the front of his scrubs.
“It’s okay, cher. I’m here.”
And I’m never going away. No more waiting on you to make up your mind, little one. From here on out, I’m fighting for my right to be the only man in your life. Charles can go… wait a minute, she hadn’t called Charles. She’d called him!
Scott almost shouted his joy to the skies. She’d called him, not Charles. Subconsciously, she knew who her man was. Now, all he had to do was convince her conscious mind.
“Scott, thanks for coming.” Jeannie looked up at him, tears clouding her big blue eyes. “I didn’t know who else to call.”
“You called the right man. You know you can always count on me.”
“Did you hear? I stopped him. I never thought I could, but those lessons you and Paul made me take. And all that practice.” Jeannie threw her head back and smiled. “They worked.”
Scott picked up the proud woman in his arms and twirled her within the limited confines of the office. “Ya done good, sweetheart. Paul would have been proud of you. I know I’m damned proud of you.” Setting her down, her back against him, he held her close to his chest. Then, he pressed a kiss on the top of her head.
“Ahem.”
A large African-American man sitting behind the desk coughed. In his all-consuming concern for Jeannie, Scott hadn’t noticed the man.
The man who had to be Captain Person said, “Well, I’m damn proud of her, too. She got that slimy, murdering, thieving bastard off my streets. I’m thinking of recommending her for a goddamn medal.”
Scott’s blood ran cold. “Murdering?” He placed Jeannie at his side, put his arm around her shoulders, and pulled her closer to his body. “That son of a bitch mugged and murdered people?”
“Not people, just women,” said Person. “I have a stack of case files the height of my desk on this bastard, covering the last five years. Your woman just closed about twenty murder cases for me.”
Startlingly white teeth flashed in the captain’s dark face. He looked thrilled at the collar.
Scott was less than thrilled. In fact, he was so horrified that he forgot to breathe. His pulse threatened to pound out of the side of his neck. He wanted to kill someone, but had no victim. His petite woman had handled it all herself.
“She could’ve been killed!” Scott turned Jeannie back around to face his chest, then tried to absorb her into his body. He’d promised Paul on his death bed that he’d guard this woman with his life. And he’d failed to be there when she’d needed him most.
He could have lost her today. And he’d never told her how much he loved her.
No more messing around.
“I’m okay, Scott.” Jeannie stroked his chest. “Could you loosen up some? I like breathing.”
The small smile on her face reassured him. She was teasing. He slackened his hold.
“Sorry, cher. May I take her home?” he asked Captain Person.
“Yep. We know where she lives. The Prosecutor will call her when he needs her for the trial.”
Scott nodded, then gently guided Jeannie from the room.
After they’d left the building, Scott pulled her close against him. His eyes scanned from side-to-side, scouting out potential danger in the immediate vicinity. Just because they were outside a police station didn’t mean they were safe. Tourism aside, the Quarter was just another inner city neighborhood with inner city problems.
“Scott?” Jeannie spoke as they reached his car.
“Yes, cher?“
“Something’s bothering me about the mugging.” Jeannie hesitated, worrying her lower lip with her teeth, a habit which meant she was upset. “You’ll probably think I’m imagining things, but…”
“Tell me.” Scott turned to her, lifting her chin so she could see the seriousness in his eyes.
“I’ll believe you.”
He wanted her to confide in him. He needed her to trust him to take care of whatever was bothering her. In that way, he’d be one step closer to binding her to him.
“The mugger. Well, he wasn’t going after my purse.” Jeannie’s eyes reflected her confusion. “He called me a fucking bitch, then he reached for the briefcase. Isn’t that strange?”
Scott closed his eyes. The foul-mouthed bastard. If he were there, Scott would be hard-pressed not to kill the slime for bad-mouthing his Jeannie. Wiping thoughts of murder and mayhem from his mind, he opened his eyes, then looked into the bewildered depths of his love’s eyes.
“Did you mention this to the police?”
“I tried, but they treated me as if I was a hysterical woman.”
“The captain did say the man mugged then killed other women, cher. Once he had your briefcase, he’d have kil
led you and gotten your purse easily.” Scott rubbed Jeannie’s arms gently. “Maybe, he went for the larger bag first, since he knew it could be used as a weapon. Make sense?”
“Uh huh. Since you put it that way, yes, it does. I did use the heavier bag against him. Guess muggers read up on those self-defense classes, too.” Sighing, Jeannie leaned her forehead against his chest. “Take me home, Scott. I’m dirty, hungry, and so tired I can’t think straight.”
Placing a light kiss on the top of her head, he helped her into the car. “Okay, darlin’. Bath, food and bed, in that order.”
Jeannie settled into the leather seat. With a moan, she laid her head back against the head rest and closed her eyes. She made no move to fasten her seat belt.
“Darlin’, you need to buckle up.”
No answer. She was asleep. Poor baby. She was exhausted. The stress of the morning had taken it all out of her.
Careful not to disturb her rest, Scott reached in to fasten the seatbelt. Damn. The briefcase was in the way. Jeannie had fallen asleep, but still maintained a death grip on the bag. He’d try to wiggle it out of the clinch she had on it.
Carefully, he moved it back and forth, hoping she’d let go. Instead, she moaned louder and held on more tightly than ever.
Suddenly, Jeannie started. Her eyes flew open and she cried out, “No!” Her unseeing eyes dilated with fear; her breathing was accelerated and choppy. She clutched the bag even tighter to her chest.
She was reliving the attack.
Shocked by her rapid descent into terror, Scott hurried to reassure her. “It’s just me, cher. Scott. Hush now.”
He moved slowly so as not to spook her further. Jeannie shook her head from side-to-side, moaning. Yet still, she protected the bag, sheltering it against her breasts like she would a child. “Jeannie. It’s Scott. I just want to fasten your belt. The case is in the way.”
“Scott?” Her eyes started to clear. She looked down at the case in her arms. Dazed, she shook her head and sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I mean, it’s all over. I’m safe.”
Scott wasn’t sure if the last words were a statement or a question. Maybe she wasn’t sure either. All he knew was she needed rest, and she wouldn’t get any sitting in a car in the police station parking lot.
“Yes, darlin’, you’re safe.” He smoothed a lock of hair off her forehead, shaken loose in her fright. “Your conscious brain may know it’s over, but your subconscious isn’t quite convinced yet.” Scott smiled his reassurance. “You’ve got a tad bit too much adrenalin flowing through you right now. It’ll pass. I promise.” Scott held out a hand. “Now, why don’t you pass me that briefcase you’re cradling so we can get you all buckled up.”
Jeannie’s grasp tightened on the bag in question, then as if she realized how paranoid her actions were, she let go. “Here. But keep it in the back seat, please. It’s got important stuff in it.”
Taking the case, he asked, “What kind of important stuff? You’ve been guarding that thing since Friday.”
“I’ll explain it all once we get to my place.”
At least she trusted him with the case. Her relinquishment of it was just another small demonstration of her faith in him.
Walking around to the driver’s side, he placed the case on the floor behind his seat, so Jeannie could see it.
Locking the doors, he started the car. “We’ll be home in less than five minutes. Hang in there, sweetheart.”
Jeannie’s eyes were shut, her breathing slow and shallow. She’d fallen asleep, again. Her skin was so pale and drawn that he knew she’d used all her reserves of energy and then some. Probably a post-adrenalin crash. Explanations might have to wait until she’d gotten some rest.
As he pulled into the traffic on Royal, she jerked awake, then looked wildly about the car. Glancing in the back seat, she relaxed. Then, she sighed and lay back against the head rest once more.
“Don’t leave me alone after we get there. Please?”
Scott could’ve cried at the fear coloring her voice. What in the hell was going on here? Well, he’d damn well have to find out. Whatever concerned Jeannie, concerned him.
“I promise I won’t leave you alone.” Ever.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Explanations weren’t forthcoming once they reached Jeannie’s apartment. She was out for the count, so deeply asleep that she hadn’t even roused when he’d carried her upstairs and tucked her in bed.
After watching her sleep for several minutes, he remembered the brief case, which he’d managed to carry along with Jeannie. God knew how she would’ve reacted, if she’d awakened and the case had been absent. Scott hadn’t wanted to chance her flying into another cycle of adrenalin overload, then crashing again. She’d had enough of that for one day.
Tip-toeing out of her bedroom, he left the door slightly open so he could hear her if she cried out. He feared the trauma of the morning attack would be a large part of her subconscious for a while. Her dreams morphing into nightmares.
Before he opened Pandora’s bag, he needed to call and make sure Jeannie’s employer knew she wasn’t malingering. He didn’t imagine she’d phoned Dr. Rutherford from the police station.
Calling the New Orleans Hospital operator he asked for Dr. Rutherford.
“Dr. Rutherford.”
“Doctor, this is Dr. Fontenot. I’m a close friend of Jeanette LaFleur. She won’t be coming into work today, maybe not tomorrow either.”
His listener’s sharp intake of breath caused Scott to pause. The noise sounded more like a gasp of shock rather than concern or even anger.
“She’s all right?”
Wrong question, doctor, thought Scott. You should’ve asked “What’s wrong?” or “What’s happened?” It was as if he hadn’t expected to hear from Jeanette at all.
Scott waited to see what the doctor would do. He didn’t have long to wonder.
“Fontenot, is it? Answer me. What in the hell happened? Was it an accident? Where is she?” Rutherford’s voice came over the phone like a sledge hammer. Each question striking harder than the last, the last sounding harsh with some emotion Scott could have sworn was fear.
“She’s fine. She’s with me.” Chomp on that, doctor. “I’ll have her call you when she feels up to it. Just wanted you to know she wasn’t goofing off or anything. Good-bye.”
Scott heard Rutherford’s frantic “But wait…” as he disconnected the phone.
Looking in that briefcase was more important than ever. His shit-detector told him that whatever threatened Jeannie had to do with her job — and the information was in that bag she’d been guarding like a mother hen.
After picking up the case, he sat in the large over-stuffed chair near the fireplace. From here he could see the front door, the French doors to the balcony, and Jeannie’s door. No one was getting in or out of this apartment without him noticing it. Satisfied that he was in the best place to protect Jeannie, he relaxed enough to open the bag.
Pulling out papers, he started to read.
Two hours later, he put the last piece of paper onto the pile lying on the end table.
“Shit,” he said under his breath, adding a few more colorful phrases he learned in the Marines. From his careful reading, he found that Jeannie had documented a very complete and detailed case of medical malpractice, fraud, and God knew what else. It stunk.
“Why haven’t you gone to the cops, Jeannie?” he whispered.
“Because Charles and I didn’t figure we had enough to prove it.” She stood in the doorway of her room. “Dr. Rutherford is an important man. He’d say someone set him up. He’d blame it on me, the staff, the people before me, anybody but himself. And he could get off. You know how corrupt New Orleans’ police and politicians are. I’d be fired with mud on my name… well, that’s what we figured anyway.”
Shuffling into the room, she collapsed onto the couch, an arm’s length away from Scott and the pile of papers.
Then, wav
ing her hand at the stack, she said, “I’ve been bringing the hard copies and CD home every night. Someone has been searching my office, my computer. The only person who knows besides Charles and you is Sally, the clinic secretary, and she’s scared stiff of both of the doctors.”
“Both of the doctors?”
“Yes. Besides Dr. Rutherford, there’s Dr. Randolph…”
“But he’s just a resident.”
“Well, he’s in it up to his eyeballs.” Jeannie coughed. Scott handed her his lemonade, and she took a sip. “He dated Sally. She overheard some things she wasn’t supposed to. She kept it quiet because she thought the bastard was gonna marry her, and he was making a lot of money off the deal. But, instead, he dumped her.”
She paused to take another sip. Scott thought the action was more to collect her thoughts and rein in her emotions, rather than thirst.
“Sally is pregnant — and it’s Randolph’s. He threatened her before I came on board, but now he’s stalking her, because… because she’s been helping me put all that together.”
“Ahh, the woman scorned.”
Jeannie sat the drink on the table. Leaning across, she put her hand on Scott’s where it lay on the chair arm. She gripped him, her nails digging into his skin. “Yeah, she’s been scorned, but she’s scared, Scott. No, more than that, terrified. She wants to quit, to go away and hide, and I don’t blame her. I think,… um… he’s abused her. And I can believe it.” Jeannie shivered. “Randolph is damn scary.”
“What’s the son-of-a-bitch done to you?”
“Nothing really. It’s more… more how he looks at me and… talks to me. He and Walter Monnier, you know, the eye tech I told you about…”
“The little creep who calls you Flower. Took you on the tour of the tunnels on your first day. That Walter?”
“Yes, that’s the one.” Jeannie shivered. “Well, Randolph started to call me Flower, too. When Walter’s around, they exchange a look, you know, like certain men do when they’re viewing women as sex objects. Like the guys who hang around Bourbon Street harassing women out on the town.”
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