Vincent paced back and forth. If everything Daniel had said was true, it didn’t explain what he meant when he promised that Vincent would see his daughter again. Clementine was dead, not comatose. Perhaps it was a lie he came up with on the spot to keep Vincent from going to the police.
No one would believe me, especially not Mom. She still thinks the whole Daniel-shooting-a-cop incident is just one big misunderstanding.
I’m the only one who’s ever seen Daniel for the lowlife he really is.
Vincent took another gulp, then another.
I’m the only one who can stop him.
***
Suzanne Fortune’s fingers hovered above the keyboard. Keeping her eyes fixed on the screen, she tentatively tapped a key with her pinky. Q appeared. She swore under her breath, backspaced, and made another attempt to find the Z.
X showed instead.
With a heavy sigh, she looked down at the keyboard to locate the troublesome key. So close! While it was tempting to revert back to the two-finger, never-look-up-from-the-keyboard method that had served her for countless reports before this one, Suzanne returned to the home keys and looked back up at the screen.
I’ll never finish my book if I don’t learn how to type faster.
Under other circumstances, Suzanne might have felt guilty practicing typing while on the clock. But for one thing, she would become faster in the long run, which, theoretically, would make her a better receptionist and save the hospital money. For another, she wasn’t even supposed to be working that weekend.
She wasn’t bitter though. Her husband was on the road, and she didn’t have a good reason not to take the shift so her coworker could go to a baby shower. Suzanne smiled. She had been to enough baby showers in her life to know she would rather take an extra shift than watch a young mother-to-be spend an hour unwrapping gifts.
Anyway, Sundays tended to be quiet. Not that the coma ward saw much excitement any other day of the week. The nurses station’s second-hand radio played a classic Aerosmith song at a handful of decibels, keeping the ghoulish silence at bay. Sometimes she wondered if the patients’ odds of waking up would improve if the floor weren’t so damn quiet.
Slowly, she typed another line, successfully navigating the QWERTY without a single error. Her self-satisfied chuckle caught in her throat when she caught the reflection of someone else’s face in the monitor. She spun her chair around and was confronted by a handsome, if aloof, face.
How can someone so big sneak up on anyone?
“I didn’t know you were in today,” she said.
Levi cut an imposing figure. The nurse was only a few inches taller than her husband, but somehow he seemed to take up much more space. His frame was muscular but not exactly chiseled. Attractive though he was, Suzanne could never get past the coldness of his dark brown eyes.
“Suzanne.” Levi punctuated the obligatory greeting by dropping a manila folder on the stack of files next to her computer. Without another word, without even making eye contact, he turned and walked away.
She watched him go, wondering what strange thoughts percolated behind his mannequin-like expression.
Maybe I could make him into a character…a villain.
She returned to the pile of reports, but it was too late. Her thoughts had already strayed to her private world—an ancient realm of knights, elves, and magic. Progress was slow lately, and though her self-taught typing lessons bore part of the blame, she knew the real reason why the last few scenes had taken so long to write.
She didn’t know what was going to happen next.
The squeak of a shoe against the polished floor made her look up. A man was leaning against the counter. His eyes were bloodshot, and by the looks of it, his hair hadn’t been acquainted with a brush in days. “Haunted” was the word she would have used to describe him on paper.
And somehow, the man did remind her of the reluctant hero in her book.
“Hi, I’m, ah, looking for Danny…Daniel Pierce. Can you tell me what room he’s in?”
The guy stank of booze.
“Mr. Pierce doesn’t get many visitors,” Suzanne said. “What is your relation to the patient?”
“I’m his brother. Half-brother, actually.”
Suzanne sat up a little in her chair. “You’re Vincent. Eve’s other son.”
He looked away. “Yeah, I’m Vincent. Wait a minute. She’s not here, is she? My mother, I mean.”
“No, not yet.” Suzanne had forgotten that by picking up the Sunday shift, she would have a chance to chat with her friend. She looked at her watch. “Mass won’t be over for an hour or so.”
Eve wasn’t kidding when she said she and Vincent had drifted apart since he moved out. I’m sure he would have bolted out of here if I’d told him she was here.
Suzanne pushed the clipboard closer to him. “You’ll have to sign in.”
He took the pen and slopped his signature on the page.
“It’s Room 307,” she said, taking the clipboard. “Down that hall and take a left.”
Vincent quickly turned around and hurried away. She watched him stagger down the hall—making a valiant attempt at walking a straight line—and almost crash into Levi, who was coming from the opposite direction.
Poor Eve…one son in a coma and the other one drinking his life away.
Suzanne was making a mental note to call her own son after work when Levi’s deep voice wrenched her attention back to the present.
“Who was that?” he asked.
“Whuh? Oh, that was Vincent…” She checked the sign-in sheet. “…Cruz. He’s here to see Daniel Pierce, his brother.”
For the first time in the five months she had known Levi, something akin to emotion flickered across the man’s face. Then it was gone. He deposited another file folder on her desk and walked away.
Suzanne wondered what Eve would say, later, when she signed in and saw that Vincent had visited Daniel. The two women had spent many a Sunday afternoon trading stories about their children, and Suzanne thought Eve would be thrilled to learn that Vincent had finally taken the time see his brother.
Of course, if Vincent is still here when Eve arrives, she’ll see how drunk he is, which would break her heart.
She recalled Eve saying Vincent used to have a problem with drinking. Apparently, he had fallen off the wagon again. She wondered if her protagonist, also a recovering alcoholic, would relapse before the end of the book.
Suzanne wanted him to redeem himself, but maybe it would add more tension if Valenthor hit rock bottom before he became a true hero.
Not that there are likely to be a lot of taverns in the Wild Lands between the untamed frontier of the human empire and the ancient homeland of the elves.
“Call the police.”
At first she didn’t recognize Levi’s voice—or his face, which was damp with sweat and more animated than she had ever seen it.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“He tried to kill the patient,” Levi said, “but I stopped him.”
“Who—”
“Vincent,” he said. “Tell the police he came to kill his brother.”
Suzanne picked up the phone but couldn’t decide what came next. At last, her fingers pressed 9-1-1. She looked up, knowing she would need more information when someone picked up and started asking her questions.
What did he mean by “I stopped him”? Are Eve’s boys all right?
But her questions, as well as the police’s, would go unanswered. Levi was gone. At the end of the hall, the elevator began its descent.
Chapter 24
Though she spent countless hours behind the reception desk, sitting in that very chair, Suzanne felt like an intruder. She had never seen so many people on the third floor. Men in uniforms, wearing gold-and-silver badges that gleamed under the florescent lights, occupied the space around the nurses station and walked the usually quiet hallways.
Her typical, tranquil Sunday morning was a hazy memory, a dream.
S
he shivered and hugged the knitted sweater tighter against her skin. She had imagined—had even written—battle scenes with blood and death. But there was a big difference between made-up warriors fighting for their lives and a real-life man trying to murder his helpless brother.
Valenthor would never sneak up on an enemy and kill his while he slept. Locke, on the other hand…
Suzanne jumped when the elevator pinged. The shiny metal door slid open, and Eve emerged, her eyes big with worry.
God, give me strength!
“Suzie, what’s going on?” Eve asked, running up to her. “They wouldn’t tell me anything downstairs except that I can’t see Daniel because of ‘an incident’ that took place on the third floor.”
Suzanne could see Detective Something-or-other watching from a few feet away. He was talking to another officer and writing in a small notebook, but she could tell he was listening.
“Is Daniel OK?” Eve asked.
“He’s fine, Eve…I mean, his condition is unchanged.” Suzanne took a breath and let the words spill out. “Vincent is here. He came to see Daniel. But soon after he arrived, one of the nurses said he tried to hurt Daniel.”
“What?” Eve steadied herself against the counter. “That’s impossible!”
Suzanne placed her hand on Eve’s. “The police are trying to figure out exactly what happened. From what I’ve gathered, both of your sons are going to be all right.”
“I want to see Vincent,” Eve said loudly, staring down the crowd of officers. “Where is my son?”
“He’s sleeping,” the detective said, approaching the desk. His squared jaw line and bright blue eyes reminded Suzanne of a character from one of her favorite cops-and-court dramas. “He’s going to wake up to one hell of a hangover, but he’ll live.”
Eve closed her eyes and dropped her head into her hands. “I knew he was in trouble, but God help me, I never thought he’d do something crazy like this.”
Suzanne wanted to say something comforting, but she worried that the detective would ask her to leave if she interrupted. She needed to be there for Eve, so she would keep quiet.
“What kind of trouble?” the detective asked.
“Vincent lost his daughter, my granddaughter, eight years ago…eight years ago today, in fact. His marriage is on the rocks, and I’m pretty sure he lost his job. He’s just…stuck.”
Suzanne’s breath caught in her throat. She had forgotten all about Eve’s granddaughter, Vincent’s daughter. It wasn’t something Eve was prone to bring up.
Vincent lost his little girl. Just like Valenthor. And they’re both alcoholics who have given up on life. Dear God, did I unconsciously base my main character on Eve’s son?
Detective What’s-his-name jotted something down in his notebook. “Does Vincent have a history of violent behavior?”
Suzanne tried to gauge the detective’s expression. Surely the detective knew Daniel had killed a police officer. What he really wanted to know, Suzanne supposed, was whether violence ran in the family.
Eve let out a shaky sigh. “No, not Vincent.”
“Can you think of any reason he would want to harm Daniel?”
Eve looked up. Conflicting emotions pulled at her suddenly colorless face. “Vincent believed keeping Daniel…believed keeping him here was a waste of money. We argued about it more than once.”
“Argued about keeping Daniel alive,” the detective clarified.
Eve nodded. “He said Daniel would never wake up, that he was already gone. But I can’t imagine why he would…would… Vincent always looked after his little brother.” A big tear traced the curve of her cheek and slid off her chin. Eve cleared her throat. “What did Vincent try to do exactly?”
The detective didn’t look up from his notebook. “When was the last time you spoke to your son?”
A short woman in a dark blue windbreaker interrupted before Eve could answer. “Detective, the doctor says there’s another drug swimming around with all that booze in his blood…mid-az-o-lam, a fast-acting sedative. And there’s a fresh puncture wound in his abdomen, likely from a syringe.”
The detective grunted. “Our missing nurse stuck him with a tranquilizer before fleeing the scene.” He turned to Suzanne, who wasn’t invisible after all, and said, “Does everybody around here walk around with syringes full of sedatives in case the coma patients get rowdy?”
Suzanne resisted the urge to scowl. The detective hadn’t been satisfied by her answers—or lack thereof—while questioning her about Levi Nathan.
“What do you mean ‘missing nurse’?” Eve asked. “Did anyone here actually see what happened?”
“Levi, one of the nurses on duty, told me to call 9-1-1 and say that Vincent tried to kill Daniel. Then he just walked away.”
It was like Levi knew Vincent was up to something. Why else would he have followed him into Daniel’s room? But how could he have known? And if Levi is the hero in all of this, why did he leave?
“Rest assured, we are doing everything in our power to locate Mr. Nathan,” the detective stated.
“But nobody knows what happened for sure,” Eve half said, half asked.
The detective added another sentence or two to his notebook. “No, but we will. Soon.”
“I want to see my sons,” Eve said.
The short female officer shook her head. “Mr. Pierce’s room is a crime scene, and Mr. Cruz is still sleeping. The doctors are checking him out. We want to make sure he’s healthy before we take him downtown.”
Eve’s lips trembled as her frown deepened. “Oh God,” she whispered.
Another officer called out to the detective, who gave Eve a look that simultaneously said, “Excuse me” and “Don’t go anywhere” before he and the short woman disappeared down the hall.
Suzanne squeezed Eve’s hand. “Let me get you some coffee.”
Eve nodded and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “This is a nightmare. Like the day Daniel got shot all over again. I can’t lose Vincent too. I can’t…” She started to sob.
Suzanne put the coffee pot down and hurried around the counter. Wrapping Eve in a firm hug, she said, “It’s going to be OK, Eve. We’ll figure this out together.”
***
Something heavy landed on Leah’s stomach—something much bigger than a Persian cat. The sleep mask blinded her from everything except the images of the burglar/rapist conjured by her frantic mind. She could feel the intruder’s legs straddling either side of her abdomen. Fumbling with the handcuffs, she tried to keep the panic at bay.
Then her assailant started tickling her.
“What the—?”
She heard a woman giggle, and her terror subsided.
“Bekah, I’m so gonna kick your ass!”
The tickling intensified. Leah, laughing hysterically, writhed under the relentless assault, losing her hold on the cuffs.
“Promise to make me breakfast, and I’ll stop,” her little sister taunted.
Bekah’s fingers dug deep into Leah’s armpits, a weak spot her siblings had routinely exploited when they were younger. Leah howled.
“OK, OK, I promise!”
The sleep mask was pulled free from Leah’s face. Above her, Bekah’s pretty, round face stretched into a grin. She wore the same white tank top that had been under her fuzzy lavender sweater the day before. Bucky Badger scowled at Leah from the borrowed pair of sweatpants.
“That was payback for all that wine you made me drink last night,” Bekah said. “I need to get something in my stomach.”
Leah freed herself from the restraints and gave Bekah a shove that nearly sent her bouncing off of the bed. “A hangover? That’s what you get for leaving Wisconsin. You’ve brought shame to your native state.” She sat up and felt the beginnings of a headache start to pulse behind her eyes.
No need to tell Bekah about that.
“Anyway,” Leah said, “Zaina was the one who kept insisting we order another bottle.”
Bekah laughed. “I think she was
celebrating a night away from the kids more than Mom and Dad’s anniversary.”
Leah smiled. It had been a fun evening, even though everyone had given her a lot of grief for showing up late. She couldn’t remember the last time all of them were together. After their parents left the restaurant, Leah and her sisters had stayed behind to catch up—and drink.
Leah pulled on a pair of gym shorts that had never seen a gym and made a stop at the bathroom. When she came out, Bekah was waiting for her in the living room.
“So what’s for breakfast?” Bekah asked.
“Let me see what I have.” Leah went to the kitchen and rifled through the cupboards. Hamburger Helper, tomato soup, cat food. She heard the TV come to life in the next room. She turned to the refrigerator, which mocked her with an almost empty carton of skim milk, low-fat yogurt, grape jelly, and a carton of old Thai takeout.
“I think we’re going to have to hit a Denny’s,” Leah called.
“Jesus!”
“All right, how about Perkins?”
“No, get in here, Leah. This is messed up.”
Leah left the kitchen and leaned against the side of the couch, where Bekah sat hunched forward, her eyes glued to the TV. On the screen, a woman with obvious hair extensions and loud magenta lips spoke emphatically into a microphone.
“…are not releasing the name of the attacker, but we have reason to believe he is related to the victim…”
Beneath the reporter’s name, the headline read, “Mercy Killing Gone Amok?”
Bekah said, “The one guy is in a coma. They think his brother tried to pull the plug or something.”
“Is that St. Mary’s?” Leah asked.
“…patient, Daniel Pierce, has been unresponsive for nearly eight months, following a shootout with Milwaukee Police. Pierce shot and killed an officer and was himself shot during a drug raid on the North Side in April…”
“Huh, maybe it’s not a mercy killing,” Bekah said. “Maybe the brother just wanted to get rid of the black sheep of the family.”
The gurgling in Leah’s stomach had nothing to do with dehydration. “I think I know him.”
If Souls Can Sleep (The Soul Sleep Cycle Book 1) Page 19
