by Amy Faye
Dan looked around for chairs. There were a few, he saw, more or less stuck in the corners. "Yeah, go ahead. It's a free country."
"Of course you wouldn't have baited him in if you thought he had a knife. You said so yourself. That was a surprise."
"The whole thing was a surprise," Dan corrected. His stomach hurt, and he wanted to know where all this was supposed to be going.
"I'm sure it was," the man said. He made another note in his notebook, as if one of them had said something.
"You want to tell me where my wife's gone? She was here last time I woke up."
"No idea," the guy said. He cocked his head, and gave a look like 'you got a problem with that?'
Of course Dan had a problem with it. There were a thousand problems with it, and most of them were inherently obvious. As in, didn't need explanation.
"You took her somewhere, I guess?"
"I don't know. I took a walk."
Dan's nostrils flared for a moment, and he could feel annoyance flaring up with them. He was going to get mad at this guy, but the way that he was acting was so obviously intentional that he forced himself to stay calm. He had to.
"So, what, you got your partner talking to her right now?"
The guy shrugged. "I don't know what my partner's up to. Maybe he's getting an early-morning slice of pizza for all I know."
"Should I be making a call to my lawyer?"
The guy cocked his head again, the other way this time. "I don't know. Do you think you need a lawyer?"
"I just want to know why you're yanking me around, Detective. I know when someone's playing straight with me, and I know when someone's trying to get a rise out of me."
"Oh yeah?"
"I know I may look dumb, but that's just a disguise," Dan told him, sarcasm touching his voice.
"Yeah? That's funny. I like that."
"Yeah, thanks. It's a line from a song."
"Oh yeah?"
"Charlie Daniels Band," Dan said. "Now you want to tell me what's going on, or should we start discussing music tastes?"
"So let's walk back a minute, shall we? So you get a call while you're at Xochimilco, is that right?"
"That's right."
"It's Jane. She says... what? It's Cole Greer calling to come stab you?"
"She says that she's got a job offer. 'Big paycheck,' she said, for a design consult. I'm a real-estate developer, I've got a fairly comprehensive staff of architects that I can get in touch with on short notice."
"And so there's a man coming to stab you?"
Dan blinked to hide another roll of his eyes again, but his caring as to whether or not the guy noticed was dropping fast.
"So she says he wants to meet with me. Sometimes clients are like that. They want to get to know you. Like the work you do is intricately linked to who you are as a person. Don't ask me to explain it, because I can't. They're nuts."
"Okay, so she says this guy wants to meet with you. You say..."
"I tell my wife I'm sorry that there's been a change of plans, and tell Jane to give him my contact info."
"Okay."
"Which he did, a minute after we were seated."
"At this point, you, what? Didn't recognize the number?"
"That's right, big guy."
"And then..."
"So I text him the location of the table. Is that in any way unusual? Some way that I'm supposed to do it that's better?"
"That all seems fine."
"Okay, well, I tell him to go away. He upsets Sarah. Every time the two of them are together, every time I've seen them together, sparks fly. Not the good kind of sparks. If you ask me, I think he was abusing her, but it's just a guess. She hasn't told me anything like that."
"Okay. So you tell him to get gone... and then what?"
"He tells me... God, I don't remember the words. He tells me something along the lines of, 'fuck off,' and maybe a side of 'I'm here to talk to the girl.' There was an implication of that, I guess. Or maybe I just assumed."
"And then?"
"I got the impression he wanted to fight, and like I said, I have suspicions this guy's hit my wife before. So I get a little defensive, and offer to step outside for a little fight. No weapons implied. I figured I'd put him on the ground and go back to eat my dinner. That's when he stabbed me, I saw red a little and smacked him a couple times. Self defense. Open and shut, as far as I can tell. You guys see it differently? The guy barely had a broken nose when I left him."
The guy kept scribbling in his notebook for a long time after Dan stopped talking. Then he turned the page, scribbled some more. The room was silent except for the soft 'beep' of the heart rate monitor.
"Is that everything?"
"There's one thing, I guess, I ought to tell you."
"Yeah? What's that?"
"You didn't just break the kid's nose."
"Oh yeah? Forgive me for not feeling too bad about it."
"Cole Greer's dead, friend," the guy said. He stood up and tucked the notebook back into his pocket. "And you might not want to leave town for a while."
31
Sarah sat in the chair as Lieutenant stood up and walked across the room like he owned it, stood beside a coffee machine and poured out a cup, real slow. Like he was waiting for her to watch, and to her embarrassment, Sarah did. She wanted some of that, even if she couldn't have it. She was so tired she'd have taken some cocaine if he'd offered it, as long as it would get her through the day.
She didn't tell him that. She just watched, the tiredness eating at her eyes and her patience. Dead? She repeated the words in her head like they were going to suddenly make more sense. Cole couldn't possibly be dead.
Sarah played the scene back in her head. Dan caught Cole around the waist and lifted him up, then slammed him back down, like some kind of pro wrestling move. She imagined his head snapping back into the ground. But that hadn't happened. He'd had his head pulled forward and the whole time, he'd been scrambling to pull forward further, to get his arms wrapped around Dan's neck or something.
Then there was a punch. And another. And another. Those were different, of course. If anything had killed Cole, it had been that series of punches, smashing his head between Dan's big fists and the ground. But then again, her ex had to be restrained. He'd been dragged away by no less than a half-dozen big guys. Guys bigger than Cole had ever been, but nobody wanted to hurt him, so they were careful about it.
How could he have gotten killed by something like that? Nobody would die from just that. Would they? She frowned. No way. No way in hell. It just didn't work that way.
"You're lying," she said. The Lieutenant's head snapped up.
"Oh yeah? You think so, huh?"
"There's no way. Practically impossible."
"Your boyfriend can't possibly be dead? Is that what it is?"
"He's not my boyfriend," she said. A shudder ran down her spine as she thought about it. Once upon a time, he had been. At least, she'd thought so. But that was a long time ago, first of all, and second, even when it had been right then and there, she'd been making a big mistake.
It wasn't until she had left him... that he'd left her, rather, that she realized how much of a mistake it had been, since the beginning.
"He's the father of your children, isn't he?"
"I don't see how that's relevant."
"So, what? You're getting pregnant by guys who aren't your boyfriend now?"
"That's not what I meant," she said. Suddenly even more on the defensive. What was his point? He obviously had one. What was it?
"Okay, so tell me how it was, then. Tell me all about it."
"We dated in college."
"Was it serious?"
"I thought it was."
"But it wasn't?"
"Apparently not for both of us."
She was holding herself up by her elbows at this point, her body suspended between her shoulders like it was some kind of bridge.
"That must have made you pretty upset."
"It doesn't mean that I killed him over it."
"Who said anything about killing?"
"I might have been upset, Lieutenant, but that doesn't make me an idiot. I can see where this is going."
"I'm just saying, I didn't ever suggest that you might have killed him. You brought that up all by yourself. I didn't do that."
"You implied it."
"No, I didn't. I said you were upset. I know I'd be upset. Pretty damn upset. Heck, maybe if it was me, in your shoes, just had a big nasty breakup, I'd be real upset. Maybe you didn't kill him, maybe you didn't have him killed. Maybe you did. Heck, it'd be hard for me to say no to it."
"Speak for yourself," she said. The edge of annoyance was becoming full-blooded coloration of annoyance. She ought to have had better control over herself, but that was just a dream at this point. A myth. Not a serious possibility.
"I'm just talking, here. Just suggesting. If someone did me like that, it'd be hard for me to just walk away."
"Well, that's what happened."
"Maybe," he said. He shrugged. "Or maybe it isn't. Way I figure it, maybe you were mad. I mean, hell, we know that you had no money. He left you practically destitute. After years of living in that big old house, now he's going to send you back to, what, to Brightmoor? Blightmoor? What a son of a bitch, am I right?"
She bit back an insult, and then reflexively bit back another.
"I moved on."
"Sure you did. You're a nice girl. Sweet girl. I mean, sure, everyone you ever knew thinks you were just fucking him for the money. But you an I, we know better. Right?"
She pinched her lips together. "That's not true."
"Oh yeah? We don't know better? Good. That's a relief. I was worried you were going to suggest that a half-dozen character witnesses purjored themselves in that hearing of yours a couple months back."
"I just. I moved on."
"Or maybe you found yourself a new meal ticket. That's what happened, isn't it? I mean, fundamentally, that's exactly what your husband is. Another rich man you can use your looks to extort money out of."
"That's not true," she said. The words dug into her, though, and refused to let her loose, even as she tried like hell to deny it. "I didn't go looking for him. He came to me, he asked me. I didn't ask him."
"Sure you didn't. No, you just make a little smile and a nod, and any man you want smiles and bows down to you. That's how it is, am I right?"
"You're wrong."
"See, here's the thing. That's smart. You see me, man. I can't do that sort of thing. I'm a man, for one, and for another, I look like I got run over by the ugly truck."
He didn't look that bad, in the grand scheme of things. The worst she could say, aside from his weight, was that he looked pretty average. Then again, if he lost a hundred pounds, it would be a total transformation. He might have very striking features for all she knew. She didn't say anything.
"But then again, maybe your husband decides that he's tired of watching some other guy's kids. Maybe he says he's going to leave you. Wouldn't be the first time, believe me, let me tell you."
Sarah said nothing.
"So you figure, you need a way out of this. A way that you can stay in the money. You've got the looks, I'm sure you could bag another guy, but I can't imagine that they all just fall down in line one after the other."
Sarah said nothing.
"So maybe, if it were me, I might concoct a plan. I get my ex-boyfriend, who still wants to get back with me, to get himself a knife. He comes after hubby, right? I offer him a little whiff of what I've got going on, because I'm a sexy little thing. Maybe let him hit it one last time, for old times' sake?"
Sarah bit her cheeks and said nothing.
"He succeeds, and hubby's out of the way. You're his wife, figure you're probably in line to inherit. Especially since he's got no other family, right? Your ex disappears, too. Off to jail, so you can find another catch."
Her fists started to ball up. They hurt. She said nothing.
"But if Cole fails, well, that's fine too. Your husband kills him. The size difference alone practically guarantees it. He goes straight to jail, and of course, it was all his idea. All a big secret surprise, you couldn't have known, so he's got no reason to divorce you. So you're in the money either way."
Sarah said nothing.
"I've got to be honest, Sarah, it's a good plan. Fool-proof, really."
"I didn't do any of that," she said.
"That's right, of course you didn't." He smiled at her, a knowing smile. A smile that was certain he was right, and that she was going to crack eventually. "And even if you did, well, who's to know? Right?"
32
Dan watched the Detective's face for a long minute. The guy gave him an odd feeling. He had a stony expression, never anything but straight and neutral. If anything, he looked bored, completely disinterested. It was a different approach, he supposed, not that he had a lot to compare to.
Then, without a change in his expression, he stood up, hefted his jacket back onto his shoulders, and took a step towards the door.
"That's all?"
"Is there something else that you wanted to tell us about, sir?"
Dan frowned. No, there wasn't. But there ought to have been something. He just wasn't sure what the hell it was supposed to be.
"I had a question, at least."
"Oh yeah?"
"That boy walked out of the place. I watched him. Your guys walked him right out, only a few feet away from me. Legs were rock-steady. He never even stumbled. Now you're going to tell me that his melon was so badly cracked that he died later of his wounds? I just, I'm not seeing it."
"I'm sorry that you don't see it, sir. Doesn't change what happened."
"No, I suppose it doesn't," Dan agreed. "You've got no further insight for me, then?"
"Not until we get the coroner's report back. Have a good day, sir."
Dan laid his head back again and waited for Sarah. The whole thing stank to high heaven, from top to bottom. But as much as he wasn't completely out of it any more, there was more than he was ready to sit down and figure through all by himself.
He looked over at the heart rate monitor and watched it move with his heartbeat, beeping softly. He hadn't meant to kill anyone, and any investigation would have seen that it was self-defense. At best, any reasonable person would have done what he did with the expectation that it wouldn't kill the boy.
But if they wanted to push things, then they would push them. They could make a court case, no problem. Winning it would be a different question entirely, but they didn't have to win. Just bring a case.
Bringing the case and drawing it out, getting it in the papers, would be enough to ruin any hopes that he might have of running for anything. Hell, it could ruin his business right damn now, never mind in a few years.
He took a deep breath and tried to ignore it. There was plenty of room for trouble, but he didn't need to start worrying about that until it was time to worry. It still wasn't there yet, thank God.
He rubbed the tips of his fingers against the side of his head. Where the hell was Sarah? He jabbed the button for the nurse's station. Then, a minute later, he jabbed it again for good measure.
Eventually, a tired-eyed woman appeared at the door. Not the one that he'd seen before, he noted. A new woman. Maybe there was a shift change.
"Problem, sir?"
"Do you know what happened with my wife?"
"I don't know much about it but last I heard she was with those police guys."
Dan bit his lip to avoid a curse spilling out. "Okay, thank you."
"Is there anything else?"
"No," he said. He wanted to go back to sleep more than anything else, but that wasn't going to happen until he spoke to Sarah, at least to confirm that she was alright. And now to find out that the cops had apparently cornered her, same as they had done to him...
He waited for her to leave before he started to lift himself to his feet.
They were unsteady under him, at first, but he took a hold of his IV stand, and took an experimental step forward.
His legs were unsteady as all hell, that much was true. But he didn't fall down, and nothing felt like it was tearing. He took another step. This was progress, he thought. Things could be a hell of a lot worse than this.
He took another step, and another. And then, as if he were making the same progress that Allison and Chelsea were going to be making in a few short years, it felt as if he'd learned to walk again, all at once out of the blue.
His legs started to feel normal, or almost normal. At the very least, he had control over them. He stepped out into the hall. Nobody tried to stop him. He pulled the IV along behind, padding around on bare feet.
The halls weren't busy. An orderly looked up at him and then looked away quickly when he noticed that Dan saw him looking. It came off more as polite than as avoiding his gaze. Dan looked around. To his left was the end of the hall; it led, patient rooms on both sides, until it terminated at a window. A hard stop.
Unless they'd apparently landed themselves in some kind of pornographic novel, he didn't assume that they could be in that direction. The only thing that direction was beds, and most of them were probably full to boot.
Which left right. A good choice. He made his way until the next corner. There were no obvious good or bad choices here. But straight or right took him right past the nurse's station, and while they were ignoring him for now, it was easy to imagine that one of them might see him and suddenly realize that maybe he shouldn't be up and walking around for at least a little while.
So he went left. It seemed reasonable. At that point he was looking down a long hall. At the end of it were a pair of double doors, with the word 'Oncology' over them. That seemed as unlikely as hiding out in another patient room. Why would police take her out of the ward and into another one for questioning?
No, they had probably found some kind of conference room or something. There was a path that jagged off to the left at an odd angle, a few hundred yards down. It had a sign that said 'waiting area', pointing down it.
Closest of all, a hallway branched off to the right. He took it because it was closest, and if he was going to make a proper search, he figured it was smarter to start close, and then go further out.
