by Laura Scott
That was the absolute last thing she wanted to do, but then again, there hadn’t been time to get all the broken windows repaired so going home wasn’t an option. “Okay.”
“Mrs. Callahan?” A slender woman wearing scrubs entered the waiting room. She was pretty with red hair pulled back in a ponytail, and young enough to make Paige wonder if she was a doctor in training.
“Yes?” Miles’s mother and grandmother jumped out of their seats, and the rest of the siblings crowded close. Paige eased upright, taking care not to jostle Abby, and edged closer so that she could hear the news as well.
“I’m Dr. Gabriella Hawkins and I’m the trauma surgeon who operated on Detective Callahan. He lost a fair amount of blood, but overall he’s in stable condition. The upper lobe of his right lung was damaged, so we had to remove it.”
“Oh, no,” Maddy murmured.
“It sounds worse than it is. The right lung actually has three lobes, so he shouldn’t suffer any long-term damage from this.” Dr. Hawkins glanced at her watch. “He’s been in the post-anesthesia care unit for almost thirty minutes now. He’ll be ready to move to a regular room in less than an hour.”
“Thank you, Dr. Hawkins,” Miles’s mother said, reaching for the surgeon’s hand. “Thank you for saving my son.”
Dr. Hawkins smiled. “I’m glad I could be here for him.” She moved as if to turn away, then swung back around to face the group. “Oh, by the way, who is Paige?”
The entire Callahan clan turned to look at her. “I’m Paige,” she said self-consciously.
“Detective Callahan has been asking for you. I hope it’s okay for me to let him know that you’re here. He’s been a handful for the nurses, keeps trying to get up and out of bed to come find you.”
Her cheeks blazed with heat. “Of course. Please tell him I’m fine. That my daughter and I are both fine.”
Dr. Hawkins’s smile softened when Paige smoothed a hand down Abby’s back. “I will. You can all see him once he’s in his regular room, okay?”
Paige nodded, and there was a long moment of silence as the Callahan family digested that bit of information.
She hid her face against Abby’s hair, her heart flooding with warm relief.
Miles was going to be all right.
And he wanted to see her, at least one last time.
SIXTEEN
“No drugs,” Miles croaked in a hoarse voice. His throat felt like it was on fire, but he did his best to ignore it, his gaze locked on the nurse. “I mean it, no pain meds.”
“We need to keep your pain at a manageable level,” the nurse protested. “Trust me, if we don’t, you’ll be screaming in pain in a couple of hours.”
Miles stared at her, grinding his teeth. “I don’t want anything that makes my brain foggy,” he repeated. “Don’t you have over-the-counter types of pain meds here?”
“You can’t swallow pills right after surgery.” The nurse was eyeing him with exasperation, giving him the impression that he was her most difficult patient. “What if I only give you half the dose the doctor ordered? Will you try that?”
“Fine.” His head was still woozy from the anesthetic agents they’d used during surgery, making it difficult enough to stay awake.
But he wanted, needed, to see for himself that Paige and Abby were all right.
The nurse must not have been kidding about using a half dose, because whatever she gave him didn’t touch the pain. He might have zoned in and out a bit, though, because the next thing he knew, two people wearing scrubs were wheeling him to another location.
“What’s my room number?” he asked, as they whisked him around a corner. From his position on the bed everything was a blur.
“You’re in room 312 on the post-surgical unit,” one of the scrub wearers responded.
He nodded and patiently waited as he was checked over one last time before they left him alone. He took several deep breaths, trying to shake off the lingering grogginess. A brief rap on his door had him turning his head in that direction.
“Miles?” The rush of relief was staggering when he saw Paige standing there, holding Abby. From the limpness in the little girl’s arms and legs, he assumed she was asleep.
“Come in,” he said, lifting his left hand off the bed. The amount of concentration and effort that took was pathetic. “How are you?”
Paige smiled and reached for his hand. “I’m pretty sure that’s my line. You’re the one who just got out of surgery. How are you feeling?”
“Better now that you’re here,” he acknowledged, enjoying the feeling of her hand in his. “I was worried that you or Abby might have been hit by a stray bullet or something.”
“We’re fine. Michael has been taking good care of us.”
A stab of jealousy hit hard, which was ridiculous. He should be glad his brother was there to look after her, since obviously Miles couldn’t. “I’m glad.”
Abby stirred in Paige’s arms, and suddenly lifted her head, blinking sleepily. “Miles?”
Hearing her speak his name was enough to choke him up, and he swallowed hard and attempted a reassuring smile. “Hey, Abby, it’s good to see you.”
“See, I told you Miles would be all right,” Paige said, shifting so that the little girl could see him better, even in the low light of the hospital room.
“Miles,” Abby repeated, holding out her arms in his direction as if she wanted him to hold her.
“Easy, honey, he has a big ouchie on his shoulder,” Paige cautioned. She awkwardly bent over so that Abby could reach out and touch him.
Abby patted her hand gently against his face and he cupped her tiny hand, pressing it against his skin, savoring the moment. Then he pressed his mouth to the center of her palm.
“All better soon?” Abby asked.
“Yes, sweetheart, I’m already feeling better now that you and your mom are here.” Miles caught Paige’s gaze, surprised by the sheen of tears in her eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Paige hastily swiped at her eyes with her free hand and sniffled. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I was so worried...” Her voice trailed off.
“Hey, don’t underestimate the Callahans,” he teased. “Nothing can keep us down for long.”
That made her laugh. “Yeah, that’s what I hear.” Then her smile faded. “I better get going. I’m sure the rest of your family is anxious to see you, too. They insisted I come in first, but I know they’re worried.”
“Wait.” He reached out a hand to stop her, lightly grasping her arm. There was a momentary flutter of panic in his chest at the thought of Paige and Abby being out there, alone. “Where are you staying tonight? You can’t go home—your windows haven’t been repaired yet.”
“I know.” She rested her hand over his and it was crazy how much that small gesture meant to him. “Michael thinks we should stay at a hotel for what’s left of the night. The police need our formal statements tomorrow, anyway.”
The tightness eased up a bit. “Yeah, okay. Good thinking.”
“Get some rest, Miles.”
He nodded but didn’t want to let her go. “I will. But come back in the morning to see me, after you’ve finished with the police, okay?”
“Sure.”
“Oh, and where’s the SIM card?” He couldn’t believe he hadn’t asked about that first thing. Proof that his brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders.
“Your brother has it, don’t worry.” She surprised him by leaning over and giving him a quick kiss on his cheek. “See you tomorrow.”
“Good night.” Miles watched her leave, hating the idea of her being in a hotel room without him. Which was just plain crazy as he wasn’t able to protect her in his current condition.
A few minutes later, his mother and Nan came in to see him, fol
lowed by the rest of his family. Mike didn’t stay long, but that was okay since he knew his brother was leaving to take care of Paige and Abby.
He loved his family, he really did, but after about thirty minutes of their fussing, he was exhausted. Oddly, the two people he found calming and relaxing were Paige and Abby.
Morning couldn’t come soon enough.
* * *
Paige didn’t sleep well that night, even though she knew they were safe and that Michael was stationed right next door.
His presence just wasn’t as comforting as Miles’s.
The day dawned bright and sunny. A rare warm front moving through the city brought temperatures in the 50-degree range, a nice change from the bitter coldness of the last few days. March had left like a lion and they were ready for April showers.
Paige fed Abby at the continental breakfast buffet, mentally steeling herself for the upcoming meeting with the police detectives assigned to follow up on the shooting incident at the Parkers’ home.
Michael joined her at the table, his expression serious. “Mitch and I have been asking around. So far no one seems to know if Eastham’s been arrested yet, apparently different jurisdictions are causing communication issues.”
Her stomach knotted with tension, although she couldn’t say she was surprised. “Are they working with the Chicago PD?”
Michael grimaced. “Yeah, from what I hear that’s part of the holdup. Chicago PD doesn’t seem to think there’s enough evidence against him. They’re not willing to believe the word of a dirty cop.”
The knot in her stomach tightened, and she pushed her plate away, her appetite vanishing. “So, now what?”
“I’m not sure. I think, for now, we refrain from telling the police about the SIM card. I have a buddy who thinks he can look at whatever information Whitfield stored on it, and once we know we have the proof we need, then we’ll hand it over.”
“Okay.” She didn’t like the idea of holding back from the police, but she could agree with his logic.
Michael glanced at Abby. “My mom offered to watch Abby while we’re at the police station.”
An instinctive protest rose to her lips, but before she could say anything, Michael lifted a hand, stopping her.
“I know it won’t be easy to leave her for a few hours, but it might be easier for you to speak frankly with the detectives without her listening in.”
Assailed by indecision, she nibbled her lower lip. “I don’t know how Abby will react around strangers,” she hedged. “She’s been through a lot of trauma over these past few days.”
“I know.” Michael’s voice was gentle. “But my mom did raise six kids... I’m sure she can handle it. Besides, there’s an old dollhouse of Maddy’s that Mitch brought down from the attic last night. I’m sure she’d have a blast playing with it.”
“Dolly?” Abby perked up, tuning in to the adult conversation.
“Well, all right, then.” Paige told herself it would be good for her daughter to interact with other people in a normal environment after everything that had happened. Besides, she’d only be gone for a couple of hours at the most. “It’s very nice of your mother to offer.”
“Oh, don’t thank us, yet. I think she’s hoping to grill you about your relationship with Miles,” Michael said with a quick grin.
She hoped her blush wasn’t too noticeable. “There’s nothing to tell. He saved our lives and almost died for his effort. I’m surprised she’s not upset with me.”
Michael rose to his feet and began clearing away the debris from their table. “She was the wife of a cop for a long time. She knows the risks and certainly doesn’t blame you for what happened.”
Maybe she should, Paige thought with a sigh. Then she remembered that Miles’s dad was the police chief who was shot and killed while at the scene of an officer-involved shooting.
Yes, no doubt Mrs. Callahan knew the risks of being married to a lawman. Paige wondered what it would be like to watch someone you love go out on the job every day, knowing he’d be in danger. Yet, look at Travis, he’d been the director of research and development, but he’d gotten mixed up in something that had gotten him killed.
The best answer was to have faith. And she was humbled by the thought of the Callahans’ faith being strong enough to support jobs that served the community.
* * *
Detectives Schneider and Lipski were waiting in a small interrogation room when she and Michael arrived. Lipski took Michael into a separate room, while Schneider remained with her.
The questions started out simply enough, and Paige did her best to reiterate the events that had transpired in sequence, beginning with the gunshots fired at her house that very first night and how Miles had been there to help her escape. Sometimes Schneider interrupted her, but for the most part he let her talk and took copious notes.
He was particularly interested in how she’d recognized Detective Lisa Krantz as Sasha, one of the women her ex-husband had been dating.
“I saw them leaving Sci-Tech together, roughly three weeks ago,” she explained. “He introduced her as Sasha, I don’t remember a last name. But as a tall, strikingly beautiful blonde, she wasn’t easy to forget.”
“Is there any chance you could have been mistaken?” Detective Schneider pressed. “I mean, one brief meeting all those weeks ago...it would be easy to understand how a mistake could have been made.”
She narrowed her gaze, her tone turning frosty. “I didn’t make a mistake. In fact, I called her Sasha when I saw her standing in the doorway, and she didn’t deny it. Plus she admitted to knowing Travis, my ex-husband. She claimed she was working with him until he got too greedy. Then she was forced to silence him. She also admitted that she sent gunmen to my house to take care of the loose ends, meaning me and my daughter.”
“And you took that to mean she killed him and attempted to kill you?”
“Wouldn’t you? Especially since she was holding a gun on us when she said it.” She was beginning to get annoyed with the detective and leaned forward in her chair, pinning him with a fierce look. “That woman made it clear she was going to kill us all, including my five-year-old daughter. A little girl who had done nothing wrong except be on the wrong side of a ChatTime link. If Miles hadn’t gone after her, fighting to get her gun, she would have succeeded. As it was, Miles was shot by one of her thugs, nearly dying from his injury. That’s what I know. And that’s what you need to remember when she claims she’s innocent.”
“Okay, I hear you.” Schneider was smart enough to back off in the face of her righteous anger. “We discovered that Lisa Krantz was actually Sasha Jorgensen’s best friend in college. Krantz disappeared, and then resurfaced here in Milwaukee, and we believe Sasha stole her friend’s identity to become a police officer.”
Paige was stunned at the news. “I’m surprised she passed the background checks.”
Schneider grimaced. “Someone dropped the ball there, but Lisa Krantz’s background was squeaky clean so there was no way for us to know Sasha stole it. And we have reason to believe the real Lisa Krantz may be dead.” He glanced down at his notes. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”
Paige sat back and picked through her jumbled memories. “When Miles asked if she was working for Aaron Eastham at ACE Intel, she didn’t deny it, just made some crack about how busy he’d been investigating this case. But as I see it, that’s the only thing that makes sense. Miles found out that Karl Rogers divorced a woman named Sasha three years ago and I believe she’s still holding a grudge about that, and when you factor in the lure of big money, she decided to get what she must have felt was owed to her.”
“You may have a point,” Detective Schneider agreed. “We’re in the process of bringing Mr. Eastham in for questioning.”
“Oh, that’s good.” She was relieved to hear it.
>
The detective asked her a few more details about the contents of the padded envelope, which she answered as honestly as possible without mentioning the SIM card.
“The envelope contained twelve sheets of paper containing a lot of scientific jargon about the revolutionary robotic design that would enable spinal cord injury patients to walk again. To be honest, a lot of it was over my head.”
Schneider consulted his notes. “And what about this code you and Callahan were able to decipher?”
“Miles did that,” she said. “You’ll have to ask him. I don’t remember what the message said, exactly, although there was some mention about a missing link.”
“Okay.” He dropped his pen and smiled. “I think that’s all I need for now. However, please don’t leave the area without letting us know, as we’ll likely need you to testify in court before the grand jury.”
She nodded, although the very idea was extremely intimidating. “No problem, I’m not going anywhere.”
“Great.” He rose to his feet and opened the door for her. “Just wait here, I’m sure Lipski will be finished with Callahan shortly.”
His “shortly” turned out to be a full twenty minutes, and by the time the door to the second interrogation room opened, she was beyond antsy. “Finally,” she said when she saw Michael. “What in the world took so long?”
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, his expression grim.
She sensed he was mad about something but waited until they were outside the police station to ask, “What happened?”
“Nothing.” He let out a heavy breath as he opened the passenger-side door for her. “They don’t like it much when civilians shoot people, that’s all, even when those people are carrying guns and holding innocent people hostage.”
She could see that being a private investigator probably didn’t carry the same level of respect that a detective did and wondered why he’d chosen that profession in the first place.
Not that it was any of her business.
