by Ronnie Allen
“And you want this, when?”
“ASAP.”
“How about tomorrow morning, first thing?”
Before she could answer, her cell rang. It was Withers. “Hi. I was going to call you.”
“Yeah, well, making people unhappy and intimidating hospital administrators won’t serve you well, Wright.”
“Uh--”
“Yeah. Doctor Casting called the local precinct who was doing the initial investigation until we rudely removed it from their jurisdiction when I was assigned. The captain called me. He was not happy. This hospital has taken very good care of our guys.”
“I had to get through to her and she wasn’t getting it.”
“Then I suggest you hone your interviewing skills. Now why did you want to call me?”
“To tell you we were going to investigate the hospital. That’s it. Thank you.” She disconnected her call and addressed Tom. “Tomorrow will be fine. Thank you.”
“Okay, Sam. I’ll personally bring it all to the precinct.”
***
Sam pulled into her driveway, smiling. She saw Frank’s SUV parked in the spot in front of her house. When she shut off the engine, he exited his car at the same time she exited hers. “Hi. What are you doing here?”
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. His warmth on the chilly November night made her anxiety dissipate. He was what she needed.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, welcomed the kiss, then thought twice and released from his grasp. “Frank, the neighbors.”
“It’s eleven o’clock. Everyone’s asleep. You wanted to go back to your house, and I don’t want you to be alone, yet. So, I’ll stay here.”
“I don’t have a guest room. My second bedroom is a den, and the third, an office.” She ran up the steps, punched in the keys, opened two bolted locks and opened the door.
He grabbed a duffle from his car. “I had no intention of staying in a guest room, by the way.” He was behind her, entering her living room, and patted her behind. “How’s the tush?”
She laughed, running up the steps to the bedroom and plopped down, sitting on her bed. “Fine. Get that look off your face. We have so much to talk about. I went to the hospital. Have so many questions for you.”
Frank pulled off his jacket, tossed it onto the chest at the food of her bed, yanked off his T-shirt in one smooth movement, and stood over her.
Sam stared at him in a combination of frustration, anger, and confusion with her arousal mounting. “How can you not focus on this?”
He sat on the bed next to her. “All right. You’re right. What did you find out?”
She caught him up on the interviews with the administrator, two nurses, what she requested from Tom, and the tongue lashing she got from Withers.
He dropped onto his back. “Sam, I so appreciate what you’re doing, but nothing has led from the hospital. It doesn’t make sense.”
She leaned over him and rested on his chest. “What doesn’t make sense to me is that all the gang interviews yielded nothing. I have to ask you. The nurses said Jen had been withdrawn a couple of days before. Do you know why? What did she tell you about work, anything?”
“Wow. No. Jen and I had made a pact. We discussed nothing about work. We spoke about our common interests, what we wanted to do, had lots of sex, which is what I want, now,” he said, sitting up and pulling her down onto the bed.
“Not so fast. She never asked you about any cases? Asked for any medical advice?”
“No. And I never told her about any police cases. Our jobs were very stressful. We didn’t want to bring that stress home with us. We lived enough of that at work. Home was our time, since we didn’t have that much of it. I’m on call twenty-four-seven, so the we time was sacred. That’s the way it is with most cops and doctors. Privacy, confidentiality. All that.”
“Did you notice she was closed down? Come on, Frank. Think with your shrink hat on. I can’t believe you wouldn’t notice something.”
“She hadn’t told anyone, but it came up in the autopsy. Jen was two months pregnant. We hadn’t told because she miscarried a few months prior. The day before the murder, we didn’t even see each other much. She had the night shift. We spoke briefly. I was in deep with a murder case and in court as the medical analyst. Come on. Tom will get what you need by tomorrow morning, and we’ll take it from there. There’s nothing you can do tonight.”
Sam unbuttoned her blouse, slipped her arms out, let her slacks drop as she lifted her foot out to entice him. He got rid of his jeans and briefs. They were under the covers, nude, and in each other’s arms in less than a minute.
“I’m sorry, Frank.”
He lay on his back. “About?”
She rested her head on his pecs. “Everything. The murder, not having another child.”
“Yeah, princess, me, too. I was raised an only child. Didn’t want Frankie to be one.”
Sam could see this saddened him. “How come your parents didn’t want any more children?”
He smiled. “I was adopted at ten. They were older, early fifties.”
“Where were you until then? I really know nothing about you.”
“No. You don’t, do you?” He laughed. “When you hear what I’ve been through, you’ll probably run.”
She ran her hand down his arms and rested it on his forearm. “No I won’t. You didn’t commit me. Tell me.”
He rotated onto his right side, facing her, his left hand caressing her hip. “I was born to teen parents, who gave me up for adoption. Right thing to do at the time. I was in a foster home until I was four. I thought they were my real mom and dad. Then one day social services picked me up at the nursery school and I never saw them again. Nothing was explained to me.” He paused, pensive a moment. “I went to another foster home. I was very difficult. Thought my parents abandoned me. Didn’t trust. Didn’t listen. They disciplined me but it wasn’t harsh. Nothing they did could make me behave or show any love. Then the cycle began. Bad behavior, horrible in school, being sent back to a group home, back and forth, foster care, and group home. At nine, it appeared I’d be there until I aged out. Then my adoptive parents came into the picture. Theresa and Peter. They had wanted to adopt. Their attorney sent them to the home. They looked at the computer, saw a picture of me, and Theresa pointed and said ‘He’s the one. We want him.’ I think the headmaster must have dropped on his knees and said a prayer to God.” Frank shook his head and laughed. “I was such an impossible kid. Had absolutely no respect for authority, never did homework or classwork, but I had high marks on tests. Wouldn’t sit. Just walked around the room. They thought I learned through osmosis. I was suspended at least once a month. Then I’d come back, take a test for something I missed, and still get a hundred. Oh man, I was bad. The teachers would give the class more tests because that was the only time I’d sit still. The kids hated me for it. Theresa and Peter took me home and I couldn’t understand why. I was so mean to them. Had my own room, every toy imaginable, and I just laughed at them. Then one day I came home and Theresa asked me to show her my social studies test. I was like, ‘What test?’ Then she stared at my book bag. Just stared like she was concentrating and said, ‘You got a ninety-seven on your test. What happened to a hundred?’”
“Oooh.”
“Yeah, I thought she had called the school. She swore she didn’t. I asked her how she knew. She said, ‘I see things.’ and I’m like, ‘Yeah, right.’”
“Don’t tell me she was psychic?”
“Yeah, she was, totally. Like you, but you’re denying it.”
“So you recognized it? I spoke with Doctor Trenton about it today.’”
He let out a sly mile. “Good.”
“You told him. Didn’t you?”
“I mentioned he should go in that direction.”
“You sneak!” She whacked his arm. “Okay, then what happened? What turned you around?”
“Honestly, patience and love. Theresa was able to see eve
rything I did. Even when I wasn’t home.”
“How did she do that?”
“Oh, man! She and I must have had some kind of connection. She said we did, from a past life. If I stayed out too late, she’d go into the den, sit in her favorite chair, and meditate. She’d see me, where I was. Then she’d send out a cord, an imaginary one to attach to me. And with her hands, she dragged the cord into her heart until she saw me in front of her. I was usually home within twenty minutes after that. Very weird. But it worked every time.”
“Holy crap. That is amazing.”
“Definitely. Eventually, Peter asked me why I was behaving like this and I told him that every time I became attached, my foster parents abandoned me and got rid of me. I told him what happened when I was four. He and Theresa researched what had happened. Turned out, I wasn’t abandoned. My foster parents, along with a foster sister, were killed in a car accident earlier in the day. By a drunk driver also high on drugs. I became hysterical. I couldn’t get why no one had told me. It’s the reason I don’t drink, and probably why I have never done the drug scene. Then my pediatrician told them to take me to a child psychiatrist, which they did. He told them I needed a physical outlet and that got me into Tae Kwan Do. Major turning point.”
“Oh, Frank. I’m sorry you had to go through all that. But it’s our soul’s journey, you know? And you turned out more than okay.”
“Yeah. I certainly know about that. Enough talking, princess.” With his arms around her, he scooped her up on top of him.
Her body felt so warm, so natural on top of him. He wrapped his arms around her torso with their lips locked. Her hand was at the base of his neck, drawing him in closer. They had no intention of coming up for air. His hand cascaded down her back to her bottom. He laid his warm hands on her butt cheeks and squeezed gently, causing her to moan and then purr. She rested her head on his pecs, as he tickled her bottom, making circular motions with his index fingers. She gasped and buried her head in his chest, as tingling roared through her, like a river running wild during a storm.
The text sound came from her department-issued phone, still in her tote, that she had placed on her dresser. She glanced toward her tote for a second. They ignored the first beep and continued kissing. Then the sound came again.
She pivoted off him. “Let me just see who it is. It’ll keep coming till I get it.” She retrieved the phone, looked at the text, stopped dead. “Frank.”
He threw the blanket off him with a frown on his face, begrudgingly got out of bed, went over to her, and stared at the text.
Got the biscuit & UR next if U don’t stay away.
Dumbstruck, Sam called Tom to see if he could track the text. He needed the phone to connect. He was at the crime lab in Manhattan. Crap. Then she called Nick. Okay, they were onto something. They’d all meet at the precinct ASAP. She and Frank got dressed in fifteen minutes.
Almost out the door Sam remembered. “Hold on. I have the evidence files with the phone info downstairs in my office. I haven’t gone through it yet.” She bolted through her dining room, through the kitchen, and down the steps leading to her basement.
Frank followed. When he reached the base of the stairs he looked around, appearing stunned. Sam smiled at his response.
She sorted folders lined up on the red-brown mahogany bench that hugged two walls and, grabbing the right ones, she talked with her back toward him. “Yeah, just like AriellaRose’s, but that’s a conversation for another day.”
Holding the folders, they ran up the steps, into the kitchen, through the living room. Sam was ready to open the front door.
The doorbell rang. She jumped back.
Frank looked through the peephole.
“Open the door, Doctor Khaos,” the ESU cop said.
He opened the door and, fully dressed in their combat gear including the laser shields, four men entered the living room.
Sam stood, mouth agape. “How did you get here so fast? In twenty minutes?”
“So you’d rather wait forty?” The sergeant sneered at her. “The precinct we’re housed in is three minutes away. Be thankful. Have you packed for a few days, Detective?”
“What? Uh, no.”
“Do so. Check to see if it’s clear,” he told one of his men.
“No one else is here.”
The sergeant didn’t listen to her. One of his men went upstairs, looked around. “Clear.”
“Go. You have three minutes.”
She raced up the stairs, packed an overnight bag, and made it back on time.
An officer brought in gear for Sam and Frank. He handed Frank his. “Come on, Detective, let’s get this on you.”
“Why?”
“No time for questions,” the sergeant said. “Wait till we get into the truck. Weapon?” She removed it from her waist holster and handed it to him. He slipped the Kevlar vest around her. Put on her helmet with the plastic face shield down over her face, tied a laser shield around her and one around her back. The sergeant then signaled to his team. They led Sam and Frank out and down the steps, sandwiched between them. After a quick search of the driveway, the sergeant asked, “Have any weapons in your vehicles?”
“No,” Sam and Frank responded in unison.
They were led around the back to the truck. An officer opened the doors, a plank descended. Sam walked up as fast as she could with forty pounds of protective gear on. Frank followed. She was edgy, not being able to ask questions. Being silent was not one of her strong points. She was a green personality, as they called it. Someone who needed to know and compare every detail. This wasn’t sitting well with her at all. But she did know that when ESU was on the scene, their power usurped hers, especially with someone of a higher rank running the show.
Three officers entered, two in the front seats, the plank was brought back up, shields removed from her, Frank, and the team. She was seated on a bench, seat belted in--all in silence. They drove off.
“Now you can ask your questions, Detective,” the sergeant said.
“What is going on?”
“The both of you are now in protective custody.”
CHAPTER 36
The ESU team walked into the Chelsea precinct, surrounding Sam and Frank, one man on each side of them, one in front and back, not even allowing them to carry their bags. Sam thought the VIP treatment wasn’t called for and, at this moment, she resented it. She clenched her fists to restrain from yelling at the next person she’d lay eyes on. When she got her hands on the guy who destroyed Frank’s life, he’d pay. Sam and Frank were marched into Loo’s office, with the night shift, about ten uniformed men and woman, staring at them.
Sam and Frank entered the lieutenant’s office and the ESU closed the door behind them. Loo, Nick, and Tom had waited for them, Loo by the window, upset.
The lieutenant’s expression remained sour. “Sit down.”
Sam and Frank sat without saying a word. This man was sure intimidating when he intended to be.
Tom stuck out his hand to Sam. She plucked the phone out of her tote and put it on his palm. He gave her a property form to fill out and, while she did that, he checked the text, showed Loo and Nick, and then took the document from Sam and left the room.
“You okay, Detective?” Loo asked.
“Yes, Lieutenant. I’m fine. I don’t see the need for all of this security.”
“You don’t?”
She opened her mouth to respond.
Loo cut her off before she said a word. “That was a rhetorical question. When that text came in two years ago, there was a murder the next day. I intend to prevent that. Whether it’s for you or Frank, I take it to be more than a warning.”
“Nick was on the case with me. He didn’t get the text.”
“Obviously, the person knows you’re the instigator in this.” He addressed Nick. “Where the hell is Withers? He should be finished up by now.”
“What happened?” Sam asked.
“His daughter, Melina had severe cra
mping the past few days. It got bad tonight and he rushed her into the ER. They’re hoping the cancer didn’t resurface,” Nick said.
“I’m so sorry to hear that.” Sam paused for a moment to respect the news, but Sam being Sam didn’t dwell on that. “What’s happening now? I have folders I want to look at from two years ago about the phone. If it’s the same one that sent the text tonight, that FBI investigation was a waste of months. And what’s with Frank and I being in protective custody?”
“For a few days, until we find this perpetrator. You can work as much as you want on files. You have a choice. You can stay at the precinct or in one of our safe houses. Frank, where’s your son?”
“At my in-laws. I’ll call them in the morning.”
“Is their house secure?”
“Yes. They were military. It’s very secure.”
The lieutenant nodded.
“I vote to stay here. I need access to all the files. Speaking of which, I want to look through this.” She removed a forensic file from her tote, jumped up from the chair, and pivoted around to the conference table.
“Hold on, Detective, you weren’t dismissed.”
Startled, she returned to her seat. “Oh, if I’m in protective custody how will I go out and interview the people that come up?”
“We’ll bring them in here. You need to listen to what I have to say.” The lieutenant’s tone was curt. “You’re all over the place. It’s making me nervous.”
“Sorry, Lieutenant.”
“I agree that you’re on the right track. Possibly very close. But I’m not happy with your approach. You need to take it down a notch.”
“So Withers ratted me out?”
The lieutenant smirked.
“Well, this is what I say to that. I don’t think he did the good job that everyone thinks he did. His handwriting sucks and he didn’t bother to type some of it. Thank God, most of it was computer generated, but for some pages, it’s hard to decipher his handwriting.”
“That so? Frank, where do you want to be?”
