As Good as Dead

by Patricia H. Rushford

“No, sorry. The professor was the last thing on my mind. When I got back to the office, Susan had called and I left right away.”

  “It’s okay. I’m just glad Abby is all right. Look, don’t worry about it. I think you may be right. I’ll check it out myself later tonight or tomorrow. Just take care of my little niece.”

  “I plan to.”

  Angel hung up and gave her mother the rundown.

  “You’re sure she’s all right?” Anna asked. “She doesn’t have meningitis or anything? I’ve heard about little ones dying from that.”

  “Tim says it’s the flu and she’s dehydrated. I’m sure they’re checking for everything.”

  “I hope so.” She took her cup to the sink. “I’d like to go see her.”

  Dr. Hathaway looked concerned. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Angel saw nothing but sincerity in his eyes, and she wondered how she could have made him out to be anything but what he was: Luke’s favorite professor. “Thank you for offering.”

  “Prayer would be good,” Ma said.

  “Certainly.” He stood. “Well, I should be going. I’ll be moving on tomorrow, but I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your hospitality. The meal was superb. I’m sorry I couldn’t have met your Detective Riley, Angel. He sounds like a fine man.”

  “He is,” Angel assured him.

  “I’m glad you looked us up,” Anna said as she walked him to the door. “It was wonderful to meet you and hear about Luke. It’s been a long time since we’ve really talked about him.”

  The professor reached for Anna’s hand and shook it. “And you, my dear Anna, must look me up if and when you come to California. I’d love for you to meet my family.”

  “I will.”

  “And that goes for you too, Angel.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Hathaway, but I don’t think I’ll be going to California any time soon.”

  After a few more pleasantries, the professor left. Angel finished cleaning up the kitchen, and then she and her mother drove to the hospital. As much as she wanted to, Angel didn’t even try to see Nick. Instead they went straight to the pediatric ward to see Abby.

  “Nana! Auntie Angel!” Abby seemed alert and rosy cheeked as she held out her arms for a hug.

  Tim gave up his chair and offered it to Anna. “You two didn’t have to come down here.”

  “Of course we did.” Anna extricated herself from Abby’s thin arms and handed her the small package she’d picked up at the drugstore on the way. Abby pulled the small, cuddly teddy bear from its wrapper and hugged it. “Oh, Nana, this is the bestest present I ever got.”

  Angel chuckled at Abby’s delight, happy to see their worries were for nothing. Or maybe their prayers had been answered.

  While the three adults chatted, Abby’s eyelids grew droopy and she nodded off, Mr. Bear tucked under her arm. Anna looked almost as tired, as did Tim.

  “We’d better go,” Angel finally whispered. Her mother didn’t argue.

  “I’m glad we came,” Anna said as they stepped onto the empty elevator. “Now at least I’ll be able to sleep tonight.”

  “Amazing what a little hydration will do—and a teddy bear.”

  Once home, Angel fixed two cups of chamomile tea and brought them into the living room, where her mother sat in the recliner with her legs propped up.

  “Have you heard from Faith, the reporter who was going to write that article on Pop?” Angel asked.

  “No, which is odd. She told me the article would be in the paper within a couple of days and she wanted me to read it first.”

  “Hmm. Maybe she got sidetracked. I’ll call her tomorrow, or maybe stop by her place.” Angel yawned. She found herself hoping that Michael Penghetti had been the gardener and that Faith had gotten a picture of him.

  “That would be nice, dear.” After a long silence, Anna rose. “I’d like to sit out here with you, sweetie, but I’m exhausted.”

  “Then go to bed.” Angel smiled. “You don’t have to wait up with me. Callen should be here before long.”

  “I know. Good night, then.”

  “Good night, Ma.”

  Angel watched the fire flickering in the fireplace, missing Callen and wondering whether or not she should go back to the hospital.

  Callen dragged himself in at around 11:00, saying he just wanted to say good night before heading home.

  “No update? You’re not going to tell me what happened?”

  “Can it wait until morning?” Callen yawned and rubbed the back of his neck. “You’ll be able to read about it in the papers or watch it on the news.”

  “Sure, but I’d rather hear about it from you. Maybe you could come by in the morning for breakfast?” As much as Angel wanted to hear about Nick and wanted to tell Callen what she and Rachael had talked about, she didn’t have the heart to keep him up a minute longer. His five o’clock shadow was already turning into a full-fledged beard, and he could hardly keep his eyes open.

  He nodded. “Thanks for not pressing.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. “Dinner go okay?”

  “Fine. The lasagna was fantastic.”

  “Sorry I couldn’t meet the professor. Maybe tomorrow.”

  Angel shrugged. “Too late. Dr. Hathaway is leaving town in the morning.”

  “Sorry I missed him, then.”

  “We did have some excitement though.” She told him about Abby and their visit to the hospital.

  “Poor kid,” he said. “I’ll stop by to see her tomorrow when I go in to talk to Nick. See you in the morning. I’ll come early and cook breakfast.”

  “You don’t have to do that, Callen. My arm isn’t that bad.”

  “No, but like I said earlier, I enjoy spoiling you and being indispensable.”

  The final good-night kiss brought too many longings to the surface. Not wanting to say good-bye, she stood on the front porch, watching him get into his car and back out. She sighed. Times like this she felt like giving in and agreeing to marry Callen. A summer marriage might not be a bad idea, after all. She loved him, so what was stopping her?

  Too much unfinished business.

  When his taillights disappeared around the corner, Angel stepped into the house and locked the door, then went back to the deck to bring in the things she’d left there earlier. Picking up a blanket and her glass, she felt a chill ripple up her spine and raise the hairs on the back of her neck. She scanned the area visible within the parameters of light, which barely reached the surf. The shadows seemed to take shape and sway.

  Must be the wind. Or your imagination. Angel hurried back inside and slid the heavy door shut, locked it, and closed the vertical blinds.

  SIXTEEN

  The watcher stayed outside Angel’s house for another half hour before finally trekking through the sand toward the car he’d parked half a mile away. He’d had to change his hair again and check out of his motel, all because the stupid cop had to go and wake up before he could inject all the digitalis.

  Of all the bad luck. Twice now he’d had the opportunity to kill Caldwell, and twice something had happened to mess him up.

  “Humph,” he spoke into the wind. “It’s almost as if the guy has a guardian angel or something. What are the odds of him surviving a shooting like that?” And today, he’d been this close. Only seconds more and the digitalis would have been in Caldwell’s bloodstream.

  His boss wasn’t going to like this. Not one bit.

  The watcher stuffed his hands into the pockets of his rain jacket. What was he going to do now? He’d messed up on Caldwell, and Luke Delaney was long gone. He should have stuck with dealing drugs and stealing. Murder wasn’t his thing, and it showed. Everything would have been cool if his contact hadn’t needed pictures. Well, he had a picture of Caldwell, and the guy looked real dead. Maybe he’d just send that picture in and be done with it. The watcher had the feeling his contact lived back East somewhere. He’d probably never know that Caldwell had survived. Could he chance it? The watcher brushed the sand o
ff his shoes and slid in behind the wheel, then drove slowly through town, dialing his contact’s number and waiting while it rang and rang. By the time someone answered, he was through town and heading toward Lincoln City. “Yeah, it’s me.”

  His contact muttered something unintelligible. “You’d better have a good reason for waking me up in the middle of the night.”

  “Sorry, I forgot about the time change. What is it, three hours difference?”

  More swearing and grumbling. “This better be important.”

  “It is. I got Caldwell, and I’m sending a picture tomorrow. Just tell me where to mail it.”

  The contact gave him a post office box in Orlando.

  After hanging up, the watcher smiled. Within a day or two he’d have ten grand, then maybe he’d head to Mexico or something. Or maybe he’d work a little harder to find this Delaney guy. It would mean another ten grand, and he sure could use the money.

  SEVENTEEN

  Fewer things tasted better than Callen’s macadamia nut pancakes with piña-colada syrup served with crisp slices of bacon. Even though the chef was a health nut and used nothing but the freshest ingredients, everything tasted great.

  I could get used to this. Angel didn’t say it aloud. No sense encouraging him.

  Once he’d served Anna and Angel, Callen sat down and sipped at his coffee, then spread the syrup on his pancakes. Angel waited until he was half through eating before asking him about Nick.

  He set down his fork and picked up his coffee cup. “According to the guard, Nick was asleep when a guy wearing a lab coat came in with a medication tray. He was wearing an ID tag that identified him as a doctor, so the guard figured he was okay. Things got chaotic after that. Nick woke up and saw the guy. Recognized his face right away and saw that he was injecting something into his IV. Nick yanked out the IV and started yelling for the guard. The so-called doctor yelled for a nurse and ran out of the room. The guard took one look at the blood pouring out of the IV site and passed out. Nick tried to stop the bleeding but wasn’t doing a very good job of it. Some of the staff came running in and thought Nick was going nuts. He kept telling them to get the cops, and someone finally listened.”

  A laugh bubbled out of Angel. “Sorry. I know it isn’t funny, but it sounds like something out of a Three Stooges movie.”

  “Funny to tell it, but not so funny when it was actually happening. I got a page from Joe saying one of his officers had responded to the call and asking me to meet him there.” Callen shook his head. “The place was a disaster, bloody footprints all over the room. It’ll take our CSI team weeks to figure out what went down. Nick says he’s sure the same guy who shot him tried to poison him. We confiscated the IV tubing and are having the OSP lab check it. For a while we didn’t know if Nick was hallucinating or dreaming or if it actually happened. He managed to pull out his chest tube in the process so he’s not in the best shape. Still maintains that he saw the guy who shot him, only the hair was different, some weird shade of orange.”

  “Orange?” Angel nearly choked on her juice. “I wonder if that’s the guy I saw at the hospital yesterday. He was pushing a wheelchair, and I didn’t think much of it.”

  “You think it might be the same guy?”

  “It’s possible. How many guys have orange hair? Okay, these days quite a few. I thought he looked strange at the time, but maybe my intuition wasn’t too far off. He had on green scrubs and a lab coat then and an ID badge.”

  “The guard said he’d seen him on the floor before.”

  Anna hadn’t said a word and had barely touched her food. Callen apologized for all the morbid talk at the table.

  “It isn’t that. I just can’t understand why anyone would go to such extremes to kill Nick.” Anna drained her cup and announced that she was going to take a shower and go to the hospital to see Abby. “Thank you for a wonderful breakfast.”

  Angel watched her mother deposit her cup in the sink and shuffle out of the room, wondering how long it would take for the spark to come back to her eyes and to her smile.

  “She’ll be okay, Angel,” Callen said.

  “I know.” Angel cut out a bite of pancake and put it into her mouth, savoring the luscious tropical flavors. “About Nick. I hope the security measures are tightened.”

  “They have been,” Callen assured her. “It’s hard, though. We’ll keep the uniformed guard. Our guys are volunteering to do extra duty. We have a list of people who are allowed access to the room, and we’ve placed their names on the roster. Anyone else attempting to go in will be escorted to the police department. They have orders to act first and ask questions later.”

  “So, this guy got away?”

  “I’m afraid so. By the time Nick was able to give an accounting, the guy was long gone. There are no doctors or nurses that fit his description. My suspicion is that our guy stole the identification and clothes out of someone’s locker. He’d have to know who was on vacation, but that wouldn’t be too hard to figure out. He was seen leaving the hospital, but we have no idea what he was driving or where he might have gone. We have an APB out on him and have given the news media a description.”

  Angel tried to picture the orange-haired guy and superimpose his features over the gardener’s and the photos she had of the Penghetti clan. No luck. “I have something for you from Rachael.” Angel told him about the information Rachael had gathered on the Penghetti family and went back to her room to get it. She wanted to keep the photos for comparison but would get copies from Rachael later.

  He flipped through the folder. “Rachael did her homework. This is all duplicating what I already have, though.”

  “She thought it might. Do you mind if I keep these? I want to check the photos of the Penghetti brothers against the photos taken at the funeral.”

  “Sounds like a good plan,” Callen said. “We’ve left several messages with the reporter, but she hasn’t called back. And to be honest, we’ve been too tied up to follow through.”

  “I can track her down for you.”

  “Great. Just let me know what you find out.”

  After breakfast, Callen left for work and Angel did the dishes. She’d just finished when Anna joined her in the kitchen for a second cup of coffee. “How would you feel about my going to visit Gabby?” Ma asked.

  “Did Dr. Hathaway put you up to this?” Angel tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

  “Of course not. I told you yesterday about Gabby’s letter.”

  “Oh, right. Do you want to go?”

  “I think so. Lazing around here frustrates me no end. I see all these things that need to be done, and with my arm broken, I can’t do most of them.”

  “I’m trying to help, Ma, but with all the remodeling...”

  “You’ve been a tremendous help.” She smiled. “Callen and I have even made a halfway decent cook out of you.”

  “Only halfway?” Angel chuckled, glad to have come that far. She’d never been much into domesticity, choosing to follow in her father’s footsteps rather than her mother’s. She was just beginning to learn the things she’d missed out on during her growing-up years. Like cooking and keeping house.

  “Maybe a bit more. But you’ve a long ways to go before I’d say you were proficient in the kitchen.”

  “Well, at least I don’t do takeout all the time like I used to.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.” Anna rested her cast on the table. “What do you think about my visiting Gabby?”

  “I think you should go.”

  “Good. I found a great buy on a ticket online. I’m leaving on Sunday.”

  “Ma!” Angel laughed. “If you’d already made up your mind to go, why did you ask?”

  Anna grinned. “I would have canceled if you didn’t want me to.”

  “I want you to be happy.” Angel put away the rest of the glasses. “You’re not planning to see the professor while you’re down there, are you?”

  “I might. Do you have a problem with
that?”

  “Just that... Ma, he was hitting on you, and I don’t trust him.”

  “Don’t be silly, Angel. He was a perfect gentleman—and a married man.” She paused. “Besides, I can’t imagine you thinking...” Tears gathered in her dark eyes. “Honey, I’m certainly not interested in him, if that’s what’s concerning you. I loved your father so much. That’s why I need to leave for a while. I can’t bear being in this house right now. Every time I go into the bedroom, I’m reminded of how sick he was and how he fell on me. I keep thinking there should have been something I could have done—some way to get to the phone.”

  Angel wiped her hands and circled her mother’s shoulders with her good arm. “It doesn’t do any good to blame yourself. There was no way you could have moved him. You know that. But I know what you mean. I blame myself too. If I had gotten here earlier, maybe I could have saved him.”

  Anna nodded. “You had no way of knowing. I doubt either of us could have made a difference.” She sighed. “Guilt and self-blame are part of the grieving process, I suppose.”

  “Yes, but knowing that and believing it are two different things.” Angel gave her shoulder a squeeze. “We have to keep reminding ourselves that it was Pop’s time to go. And like Tim keeps telling us, he’s in a better place.”

  Anna dug into her pocket for a tissue. “I know. I’m just... having a hard time. I want the crying to stop, and I want to get on with my life. I’m tired of buying tissues.” She offered a wan smile, a pathetic laugh—just enough to break the somber mood.

  “Me too.” Angel needed a couple tissues of her own.

  “Why don’t we walk on the beach?” Anna sniffed. “And we can talk about my trip.”

  “It’s raining.”

  “And your point is?”

  Angel chuckled. She’d spent most of the days since her dad’s death with her mother. Holding her when she cried. Walking when she needed to walk. Talking when she needed to talk. After the funeral, a friend had given her a book on helping someone through grief, and one of the most important things the author stressed was just going through it together and being there for one another.