by Judy Clemons
Casey bent to look into Andrea’s unfocused eyes. “I’m here, Andrea. I’m going to help you.” She jumped up and raced to the training room. The door was locked. Uttering an oath, she ran back into the aerobics room, got her key, and rushed back to the training room, sliding the key through the lock. She lunged at the phone on the desk and dialed 911. A man answered, saying “Flamingo security.”
“Security? I dialed 911.”
“It comes right to us. What do you need?”
“An ambulance. Women’s locker room.”
“Who is this?”
“Ca—Daisy Gray, the new fitness instructor. Call 911! Now!”
She slammed down the phone and ran back to Andrea. “Help is coming.”
Andrea took another shuddery breath, blowing a bubble laced with blood.
Casey stroked her cheek. “What happened, Andrea?”
Andrea swallowed forcefully, and attempted a smile. “I couldn’t…do it.”
“Couldn’t do what?”
Andrea closed her eyes. “I couldn’t run.”
Chapter Nine
Casey sat in the waiting room at the hospital, shaking her knee up and down. She had blood on her clothes, her muscles had stiffened, and she kept dozing off and waking up abruptly, scaring herself. She hadn’t been allowed to ride in the ambulance with Andrea, but the security guard had wakened Sissy. Sissy was too shaken to drive, so Casey got behind the wheel, something she usually avoided. Now, Sissy was at the hospital’s registration desk, answering what questions she could about Andrea’s insurance and family.
Two police officers stood on the other side of the room. One of them had already taken Casey’s statement, and now they were waiting for a detective, who was checking out the crime scene back at the Flamingo. Casey was to stay put until she talked with her. Casey hoped the cops were there just to keep tabs on the situation, and not because they considered Casey a suspect in Andrea’s attack.
Death sat beside Casey, pouting. “I hate waiting rooms.”
Casey didn’t respond.
“They’re so…boring. I say, get it done, and move on. Why prolong the suffering?”
“Because sometimes people aren’t ready to move on,” Casey said. “Do you really still not get that? They’re willing to live through the suffering to have more time living.”
One of the cops glanced over, and Casey shut up. That would be just super to have the cops thinking she was a mental case.
“I wasn’t talking about their suffering,” Death said. “I was talking about mine, being put on hold like this. I think I’m coming to take someone away, and get stopped at the gates.”
Sissy returned and sat on the other side of Casey. Her bright purple slacks and shirt were obscene in the sterile white and gray atmosphere. She kneaded her hands in her lap. “I just don’t understand. Do you know how someone could get into the locker room like that? How could our security system not catch him?”
Casey really didn’t want to list the ways, which included professional criminals, corrupt security guards, or, most troubling, violent residents.
“Did she say anything to you? Could she tell you who did this to her?” Sissy had already asked numerous times, but Casey’s insistence that Andrea had said nothing didn’t seem to sink in. Sissy acted as scared as ever that someone was lurking in the Flamingo, ready to kill the next person to cross his path.
“Does Krystal know?” Casey asked, changing the subject for what she hoped was the last time.
“I didn’t call her. I wasn’t sure if I should or not. We aren’t exactly…friends.”
“Maybe not, but Krystal and Andrea seem to be good ones. Andrea might want Krystal here when she wakes up.”
“If…” Sissy hiccupped. “If she wakes up.”
Casey wanted to reassure her, to say that of course Andrea would wake up. But she knew from very personal experience that many emergency patients never did. “Why don’t you go ahead and call her?”
“Pointless,” Death muttered. “This whole thing is pointless.”
Sissy pulled out her cell phone and scrolled through her contacts. When she found Krystal’s number, she got up and walked out of the room. She was back in under a minute, sniffling. “She’s on her way. She was shocked. Completely shocked.”
The double doors swung open and a man in scrubs looked around the room. Casey stiffened.
“You know she’s alive,” Death said grumpily. “Otherwise, why would I be in here and not there?”
Sissy popped up and hustled over to the surgeon. Casey followed.
“Family?” the surgeon said. His nametag read Dr. Remon Neem.
“We’ve called them,” Sissy said. “But they live in Oregon. We’re friends, from where she lives. I’m the manager of the condos.”
Dr. Neem took in Casey’s appearance, pausing when he reached the blood on her clothes, which she’d gotten from kneeling beside Andrea. “She was awake when you found her?”
“Yes.”
“She is unconscious now. She is in very bad shape, and I cannot say what will happen. It depends how she progresses in the next twelve hours.”
“What happened to her?” Sissy’s eyes shone with tears.
“She was beaten very badly. There was a lot of internal bleeding, and the injury to the back of her head was quite severe. We will not know until morning if we were able to help her in time.”
Sissy leaned against Casey, and Casey put her arm around the woman’s shoulders, holding her up. “I’ll take you home,” Casey said. “Then I’ll come back, okay? So someone’s here when she wakes up.”
“Krystal’s coming. We can wait until then. And you can’t leave until…until the detective gets here.”
Right. Detective. Police. Everything Casey needed to avoid.
But she wasn’t Casey Maldonado anymore. She was Daisy Gray. Fitness Instructor. Recent transplant from Tallahassee. Daisy had definitely not been in Kansas or Ohio recently, and she had certainly not killed anyone.
The surgeon took Sissy’s hand. “We will let you know if she awakens, or if anything changes, all right?”
Sissy’s sniffled some more, and tears leaked out from under her squeezed-shut eyes.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Casey said.
He gave a little bow and went back through the doors.
“Come on, Sissy, let’s get you back in a chair.” Casey led her to her seat, and Sissy balled her hands into fists. “Oh, I should never have—” She stopped and pressed her hand over her mouth.
“What?” Casey didn’t like the sound of whatever it was.
Sissy shook her head. “I can’t…I’m liable.”
“For what?”
Sissy hiccupped, and glanced at the cops. She lowered her voice. “The fitness floor hours are five AM to midnight. Andrea called me a couple weeks ago to ask if she could use the aerobics room during the night. She hadn’t been sleeping well, and found yoga and meditation helpful. Krystal had been joining her lately, too. I wouldn’t have allowed Krystal to use it on her own, of course, but the two of them seemed to enjoy doing that together. I didn’t see the…the harm in it. Andrea has never caused a problem. Oh, what have I done?”
The cops looked over as Sissy wailed, and Casey held up her hand to say she had it under control.
“Sensitive, isn’t she?” Death wore a surgeon’s scrubs now, and was filing a fingernail. The nametag on the breast pocket said Dr. Kevorkian. “So the two of them were in a restricted area, after hours. Hadn’t you just told their entire class not to put themselves in dangerous situations?”
“But they were together,” Casey said. “Not alone. And within the building it shouldn’t have been dangerous. Even if it had been only one of them.”
“On the phone just now Krystal said she went up to bed ahead of Andrea,” Sissy said. “Andrea wanted to do a little more of her yoga before going up.”
Casey glanced at Death. “So she didn’t take my advice.”
Sissy wailed ag
ain, and squeezed Casey’s thigh, her fingernails poking through Casey’s warm-ups.
Krystal burst into the waiting room, and the cops immediately stood at attention. The male one for obvious man reasons, and the female for even more obvious woman ones. Her hand crept to her baton, and Casey hoped she’d get her jealousy under control before something bad happened.
Death whistled. “Ain’t she something?”
Even this late at night, having been dragged out of bed, Krystal looked good. She wore a tank top and shorts, no make-up, and flip-flops. Her hair was mussed, and her face still had sleep lines, but that just gave her the seductive bedroom look her kind of woman can get away with.
“Where is she?” Krystal said.
“Oh, Krystal!” Sissy pulled herself from Casey’s arm and flung herself at Krystal. “It’s so awful. She just got out of surgery, but she’s still asleep, and they think she might die.”
Krystal looked at Casey over Sissy’s shoulder, her eyes wide, arms stiff at her sides.
“The doctor said they’ll know more by morning,” Casey said.
Krystal’s eyes closed briefly, then focused on Casey again. “How did you get here? Sissy’s car? Can you take her home?”
“I’d be glad to, except I can’t leave until I speak to the detective who’s checking out the fitness floor.”
Krystal paled. “So it really was there. I should never have left her.” She pushed Sissy away and turned to the cops. “Can one of you take Sissy home?”
“I’m fine,” Sissy said. “Really.” And then she burst into a fresh round of tears.
The cops looked at each other, and the female one shrugged. “I’ll take her. It’ll make things easier. Come on, ma’am. Let’s go.” She took Sissy’s elbow and guided her out of the waiting room, Sissy calling over her shoulder to “take care of Andrea,” and to “let her know when anything happened.”
Krystal stood in the middle of the room, arms hanging limply by her sides, her face haggard. “What happened?”
“We don’t know.”
“But you…you found her?”
“I went down to exercise. I couldn’t sleep.”
Krystal’s face crumpled, but she quickly got it under control. “Andrea couldn’t, either.”
“That’s what Sissy told me. Any idea why Andrea couldn’t sleep for the last couple weeks?”
Krystal shook her head, but didn’t say anything.
“She’s not going to tell you,” Death said. “She’s known you, what? Twenty hours?”
Death was right, of course. Krystal had no reason to trust her.
“Do you know…” Krystal said. “Was she assaulted? I mean, sexually?”
Casey thought back. Neither she nor Sissy had asked. “The doctor didn’t say anything. I’m hoping that means she wasn’t.”
Krystal let out a breath. “At least there’s that.”
At least.
Now Andrea just had to live to appreciate it.
Chapter Ten
“Ms. Gray?”
Casey blinked up at the woman standing by her chair. She cleared her throat. “That’s me.” Casey had fallen asleep, and she shook her head to wake herself up.
“I’m Detective Binns. Okay if we go somewhere more private to talk?”
“Sure.” Casey glanced at Krystal, who had curled up on a couch, and was sleeping. Someone had covered her with a blanket. No one had bothered to cover Casey. She would choose to assume it was because Krystal was wearing shorts and had looked cold, while Casey had on warm-ups, and not that Krystal somehow inspired acts of chivalry while Casey was ignored.
Casey followed the detective to a small room off of the waiting room. Another officer followed, and shut the door behind them, but Casey barely registered him. She was still in a daze. Binns gestured to a chair, and Casey sat, trying to will herself awake. Binns pulled a chair in front of her. She was small and dark-haired, and she regarded Casey with compassion. “I’m sorry for what you’ve been through tonight. It had to shake you up.”
Casey rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. “It did. I’ll feel better once we know she makes it through the night.”
“Before I talk anymore, I’d like you to run me through the events of the past several hours, please. Officer Gomez will take notes.”
“Of course.” Casey took a look at the other officer now, and immediately wished she hadn’t.
Gomez was tall and dark, looking way more like Reuben than was good for anybody. He introduced himself with a distinct Spanish accent, which set Casey’s heart hammering. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to get her thoughts in order. He is not Reuben. He is not Reuben. When she’d recovered at least a little, she opened her eyes and focused on the detective, telling her about the extra self-defense class, how she couldn’t sleep afterward, and how she’d decided to head down to the aerobics room. She got a little shaky as she talked about the sound she’d heard, and about finding Andrea and seeing the bloody hand weight, and calling security.
“Why didn’t you call 911?”
“I did, but the phone must be set up to go directly to the on-site guards.”
“Anything else?”
“Not that I can think of.”
Binns sat back, studying Casey. “You’re new in town.”
“Just came yesterday, for the job. I got officially hired today.”
“You didn’t know anyone here in Raceda previously?”
“No. I found the job on monster.com.”
Binns gazed at her some more. Casey knew she looked uncomfortable, but she figured most people would be uncomfortable in that situation.
“I want you to know right off,” Binns said, “that we’re not considering you a suspect in the attack.”
“What? Why?” Casey checked herself. “I mean, thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank Andrea.”
“Andrea? Is she awake?”
“No. She roused just enough to say a few words to the paramedics when they arrived at the scene. She said your name, and that you had saved her.”
“Did she name the person who attacked her?”
“No. Those few words about you were all she managed before she blacked out. So you’re in the clear.”
“But I could’ve hurt her and then called—”
Binns held up her hand. “It wouldn’t be the first time an attacker contacted law enforcement, so if it weren’t for back-up evidence, I would probably discount her statement.”
“What evidence?”
“The security camera mounted in the service stairway caught you going up to the second floor at twelve fifty-four. Where had you been?”
“Bar. Talking to Jack, the bartender, not drinking. You can ask him.”
“Oh, we will. Anyway, the camera on the fitness floor got you going into the aerobics room, and looking out several minutes later. Your clothes are not bloody in either of those films. Furthermore—”
“It wouldn’t have taken long for me to go into the locker room after you saw me on the tape, beat up Andrea, and call the cops.”
Binns’ eyebrows went up. “Are you trying to put yourself back on the suspect list?”
“No, I’m just…looking at all the angles.”
“We are, too, Ms. Gray. Believe me.” She looked down at her notes, holding them at arm’s length and squinting. “Furthermore, there was another key used to get into the training room before you were even on the floor.”
“Another…from which direction?”
“The men’s locker room.”
Casey considered this. “Do you know whose card it was?”
“The access number belonged to Maria Mendez.”
“The receptionist?”
“Administrative assistant. Who is, at this moment, in her home. We had a unit go directly there, and she was tucked up in bed, asleep. Her car was cold, and there was no record of her returning to the building after she left at five.”
Casey tried to take it all in. “What about the
camera in the other hallway? The one on the men’s locker room door?”
“Sabotaged. It looks like someone used Vaseline to smear it. We get only the up close view of a gloved finger over the lens about two minutes before someone enters the men’s locker room at twelve twenty-two. Then we get another blurred image of a person leaving the same locker room fourteen minutes later.”
“That early? Are you sure? I heard someone when I was there, around one. That’s why I went into the locker room in the first place.”
“We’re sure.”
“And you couldn’t tell who it was? Nothing about size? Tall? Short? Fat? Whether it was a man or a woman?”
Binns shook her head. “Or even if it’s the same person both times. It’s like a fun house mirror. The Vaseline created a lens that couldn’t properly register correctly what it was seeing. Plus, the picture is black and white, and the only lights in the hallway were the nighttime security bulbs, which didn’t offer a lot of illumination. We have our technicians working on it, of course, but I don’t hold out a lot of hope.”
Casey smacked the arms of her chair. “If only I’d been a few minutes earlier I would’ve heard something happening. I could’ve stopped it.”
“You can’t be sure of that.” Binns’ voice was gentle.
Casey sat back and exhaled. “So now what? Do you have anything to go on?”
“Frankly,” Binns said, “you would be my number one suspect, if it weren’t for the technology.”
“And Andrea’s statement.”
Binns’ lip twitched upward. “Right. New girl in town, known by no one, I’d almost think you came to town for just this reason. Although if that were so, you’d be across the border into Georgia by now.”
“I didn’t do it.”
“I know.” She sighed loudly and put her notebook away. “It would’ve made it a lot easier if you had.”
A knock came on the door, and the male cop from the waiting room stuck his head in. He looked very somber.
“What is it?” Binns said.
“Andrea Parker.” He paused. “She’s dead.”
Chapter Eleven
Casey’s head spun, and she grabbed her chair. No. No!
