Butterfly

by Sharon Sala

  “We’ll be in touch,” Ben said. “Oh… and don’t leave town.”

  Franklin was pale and sweating as they left his office.

  Red grinned as they reached the elevator. “It just goes to prove that being rich doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve got brains to go with it.” Then he glanced at Ben. “What do you think? Was he telling the truth?”

  Ben shrugged. “Probably. It will be easy enough to find out. As for the brains part, it’s for damn sure Jody Franklin could have used some more and a measure of good sense to go with them.”

  “Now what?” Red asked.

  Ben glanced at the list. “We’ve got time for a couple more before—” His cell phone rang. “Just a minute,” he said.

  “Ben English.”

  “Detective English, this is Dr. Pope. You asked to be notified if there was any change in China Brown’s condition?”

  Ben’s heart skipped a beat. “Yes?”

  “As you know, we’ve been decreasing the sedatives for some time now. And, as you also know, her wounds are healing nicely.”

  Ben interrupted. “You didn’t call to tell me this,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

  “She’s failing,” Dr. Pope said. “Her vital signs aren’t good.”

  Shock spiraled, sending Ben into a panic. After all of this, surely God wouldn’t let her die.

  “This doesn’t make sense. If everything else is as you said, then why is this happening?” Ben asked.

  “I suppose there could be all sorts of explanations,” Dr. Pope said. “But my personal opinion is, I don’t think she wants to live.”

  Ben groaned. “I’m on my way.”

  “What’s wrong?” Red asked.

  Ben bolted inside the elevator before the door was completely open and quickly punched the Close Door button, then the one for the lobby. Red made it, barely, snatching his coattail before it got caught.

  “Come on, partner, talk to me.”

  It was all Ben could do to say the words aloud. “They’re losing China Brown.”

  “That’s too bad,” Red said. “We lose her, we lose our only witness.”

  Ben snapped. “She’s more than just a witness, damn it.”

  Red grabbed Ben’s arm. “That’s just the problem, buddy. She’s not. Whatever you think you’re feeling is all in your mind. She doesn’t know you exist.”

  “Shut up. Just shut up and get me to the hospital, and then you’re on your own for the rest of the day. I’m not leaving her until I know she’s going to be all right.”

  The elevator stopped. The doors opened. Ben strode out into the lobby of the office building and began moving toward the entrance at a jog.

  Red caught up with him at the curb. “Wait! Ben, wait!”

  Ben turned. “What?”

  “What if she doesn’t pull out of this?”

  Ben took a deep breath, then another, trying to answer without making a fool of himself, then realized he’d already done that a hundred times over since this whole thing had begun. His shoulders slumped, and for a moment he looked away. Then he lifted his head and gave Red a cool look.

  “Are you driving, or am I?”

  “I will,” Red muttered. “I want to get there in one piece.”

  ***

  China was drifting. There was a place between cognizance and oblivion that let her hide without effort. All she had to do was focus on the dark and everything else would fade—even the muscle-racking pain that dug into her sleep. It was a place of safety—a place where reality did not exist. When she thought about it, which was rare, she knew she was in a hospital. Now and then there were even flashes of ugly memories that reminded her of why she was there. Those were the times when she felt herself slipping, and slipping was something she longed for, more and more. Remembering was a pain worse than anything physical.

  And she would have gone long ago except for that voice that kept pulling at her to stay. In a way, she was reluctant to turn loose of the connection. The tenderness in his voice and the gentleness of his touch were things she’d once longed for. But it was too late—too late to care, too late for everything of this earth. Nothing mattered but finding peace, and when China Brown had faced the barrel of that gun and felt the bullet that ripped her child from her body, she’d accepted the fact that her peace would not be on earth. Now all she wanted to do was go home.

  ***

  Ben was out of the car and running before Red had come to a complete stop. All the way into the hospital, he’d been unable to think past his panic. His breath came in short anxious gasps as he entered the elevator, and when it stopped, he found himself running down the hall to the ICU.

  At the sound of his footsteps, the nurse on duty looked up.

  “Dr. Pope called me,” Ben gasped.

  “Yes, sir, he’s inside waiting for you.”

  Ben dropped his coat and gloves on a nearby chair and kept walking, knowing that if he stopped, he wouldn’t be able to move.

  Dr. Pope was standing at the foot of China’s bed. He looked up when the doors opened and motioned for Ben to come.

  God, don’t let this be happening. He nodded to Dr. Pope. “Thank you for calling me.”

  “It seemed important to you. I was glad to do it.” Pope looked at China and then down at her chart before moving to her bedside.

  “Talk to me,” Ben said. “Why is this happening?”

  The doctor took Ben by the arm and pulled him aside so that their voices could not be heard by any of the patients.

  “The human mind is a powerful and mysterious thing. We know very little about the intricacies of how it works, but basically, I would say she’s just not fighting it any longer.”

  Ben’s belly rolled. “She wants to die?”

  Pope glanced at China and then shrugged. “It amounts to the same thing.”

  Ben looked at her then, absorbing the delicate perfection of her face. He moved to the bed, touching her arm, then her wrist, barely able to feel the thin, thready pulse. His voice was shaking, his gaze begging Ross Pope to change his prognosis.

  “Don’t let this happen.”

  “It’s out of my hands,” Pope said.

  “And there’s nothing you can give her?”

  “Medically, I’ve done all I can. The rest is up to the lady.” Then he patted China’s leg and gave Ben a sad smile. “I’ve got to finish rounds. If I’m needed, they’ll page me.”

  Ben suddenly realized that the allotted five-minute ICU visit was not going to be enough. How could he reach China if she couldn’t hear his voice?

  “I’m not leaving,” he said.

  Ross Pope nodded. “I didn’t think you would. I’ve already given orders that you be allowed to stay for as long as you want. But you have to be very quiet. There are other patients whose care depends on it.”

  “Yes, I promise.”

  “Well… goodbye then,” Dr. Pope said, but Bennett English’s focus had already shifted to the woman in the bed.

  “It’s me,” Ben said softly, and stroked her cheek from temple to chin with the tip of his finger. “I told you I’d be back.”

  The only answer he got was a slow but steady beeping from the monitor hooked up to her heart.

  “I saw a robin today in a tree outside my apartment. Soon winter will be a thing of the past. I can help you, honey, but you have to wake up.”

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  Ben bowed his head and closed his eyes. God give me the right words to say before it’s too late. He took her hand and then inhaled slowly.

  “China. China Brown. Can you hear me? If you can, then squeeze my hand.”

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  “I know it’s difficult. You’ve been very, very sick, but you’re getting better now. I know you can hear my voice.” He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “That was me, squeezing your hand. All you have to do is move a finger, just one finger, and I’ll know you’re listening.”

  Beep… Beep…

  There was a long paus
e before the beeps resumed, and the fear that shot through Ben’s body left him weak and shaky. He was losing her, and he didn’t know what to do. His voice was trembling when he began to speak.

  “There are doctors and nurses who have worked very, very hard to make you well. There are policemen who are working day and night, trying to find the man who hurt you. You think you’re all alone, but you’re not. You’re not alone, China. You have me. I’m here. All you have to do is squeeze my hand.”

  He clasped her fingers, willing his warmth into her hand.

  Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep…

  Again the monitor skipped the count of two heartbeats before resuming a steady rhythm. Ben could feel her life slipping away before his eyes, and the thought of never seeing her smile made him crazy. He leaned down until his mouth was only inches from her ear, his voice harsh and ragged with fear.

  “Damn you, don’t you quit on me, woman! Do you hear me? I haven’t quit on you. You at least owe me the courtesy of doing the same.”

  Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep.

  He didn’t know whether the irregularity was a good sign or a bad one, but either way, he’d committed himself.

  “That’s all right,” he said. “Get mad. I’d like nothing better than for you to open those eyes of yours and tell me to take a hike. If that’s what it takes, then get mad. Do anything but quit.”

  Beep-beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

  Ben breathed a little easier. Needing to touch her, wanting her to feel him, he began stroking her hair with his other hand as he searched for a way to reach her. As he stood, racking his brain for something wise to say, he saw tears welling at the comers of her eyes. The breath slid out of his body as quickly as if he’d been punched. All at once he understood.

  “Oh, honey.” He gave her fingers another gentle squeeze. “You know, don’t you? You know your baby is dead.”

  The monitor beeped erratically a couple of times. Ben was so focused on the sounds that he missed the movement of her fingers against the palm of his hand.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and without thinking, leaned down again, this time kissing the side of her cheek. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  Beep… Beep.. Beep.

  The length of time between the sounds seemed to Ben like slow sobs. It wasn’t until he straightened that he felt a tremble in her hand. His gaze slid to the delicate length of her fingers against his palm.

  “China? Can you hear me? If you can, move your fingers for me.”

  At first he saw nothing, and then ever so slowly, one finger rose, followed by the one beside it.

  “Thank you, God,” he muttered, as she rubbed the tips of two fingers against his skin.

  “That’s it!” he cried. “I knew you could do it! I knew you weren’t a quitter.”

  Instantly the motion stopped, and the message was as clear as her silence had been before.

  “You aren’t!” he argued. “No one who’s fought this long to stay alive would be a quitter. Move again for me, China. Prove it to me.”

  Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep.

  “Damn it, no!” he growled. “You don’t do this! You don’t do this to me! If you quit now, you’re letting a man get away with murder. Is that what you want? Is it, China?”

  Beep-beep-beep. Beep-beep-beep.

  “I don’t believe it! I don’t believe you. You loved that baby you were carrying. Now help me find the man who killed her.”

  China drew a slow breath and Ben held his as he waited for her to exhale. If she didn’t, he wasn’t certain but that he would die right here and now, with her.

  Then she exhaled, and it sounded to Ben like a sigh. As she did, her fingers curled ever so slightly around the palm of his hand, as if grasping to hold on to life. Quick tears blurred his view of her face.

  “That’s what I wanted to hear,” he said softly. “You just hold on, honey, until you feel strong enough on your own to let go. After that, I’m making you a promise that, together, we’ll bring your baby’s killer to justice.”

  Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. And so the monitor danced, slow and steady, all through the night.

  Sometime later, a nurse brought him a chair and scooted it beside China’s bed. Gingerly, he sat without breaking his hold on her hand. Hours passed and his eyes became heavy. He laid his head down on his arm—just to rest, just for a minute.

  ***

  He woke at daybreak and for a moment lay without moving, listening to the sounds of the changing shift and the footsteps coming and going as a new set of nurses checked patients’ vitals, dispensing gentleness and kind words with the medicine. It took a moment for him to realize that China Brown was no longer holding his hand. Instead, sometime during the night, she’d thrust her fingers into his hair.

  Even after he lifted his head to check the monitor by her bed, he imagined he could still feel the imprint of her fingers against his scalp. The strong, steady beep of the heart monitor was a welcome sound. He stood and stretched, raising his arms stiffly above his head and then arching his back before laying a hand against her cheek.

  “Good morning, sweetheart. Just for the record, I got your message. You’re going to be okay, and so am I. I’ll be back, and when I come, I promise to shave. I don’t want to look like a wild man the first time you see my face.”

  Then he leaned over and kissed her again, feeling the warmth of her cheek against his lips. Just as he started to raise his head, he hesitated. With no more than an inch of space separating their faces, Ben moved a bit to the right and kissed her again. This time, right on her mouth.

  When he left the ICU, he was smiling.

  ***

  Bobby Lee tossed the morning paper down onto the dining room table, took a slow, satisfying sip of his favorite coffee, then leaned back in his chair, surveying all that was his.

  The opulence of his home was evident, but tasteful, a perfect backdrop for a man who would be king. The festive red and green of Christmas hung from every corner, evidence of the expensive decorator Mona had hired. Bobby Lee had the poor-boy-makes-good syndrome going for him, as well as being a certifiable war hero. His eyes narrowed as he thought back to his years in Vietnam. At the time, he wouldn’t have given a plug nickel for his chances of coming home alive, never mind in one piece. If anyone had asked him about the notion of using those years as a springboard into politics, he would have laughed in their faces and called them crazy.

  He chuckled beneath his breath and then shook his head as he took another sip of coffee. Life could be a bitch, but it could also be beautiful, and right now, his world was full of beauty and light.

  “Bobby Lee! Where are you?”

  The bubble of perfection popped as the screech of his mother’s elevated voice echoed throughout the halls. Goddamn it! Wouldn’t that woman ever learn? Ladies did not shout. He bolted from his chair and stalked to the doorway. Mona was standing in the hall, pulling on a pair of elbow-length gloves and preparing to let loose with another shout when he spoke.

  “Must you shout?” he snapped.

  “If I wanna be heard,” she drawled, and sauntered toward him on three-inch heels.

  His eyes narrowed with disdain as he absorbed the outfit she was wearing. It was velvet, red and short, with a faux fox collar framing her neck and face. Her gloves were longer than her skirt, and her buxom torso was zippered into the jacket so tightly that one sneeze could prove a disaster.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Out.”

  “Not good enough,” he said.

  She rolled her eyes. “Shopping?”

  “Is that a statement or a question?”

  She tapped a finger against his chest, angrily punctuating her words with each impact.

  “I am your mother, not your child. You do not tell me what to do or where to go, is that understood?”

  He grabbed her finger in the midst of a tap and then, ever so slowly, began bending it back toward her hand.

  “You are a walking time bomb. I will do
what it takes to keep your ass out of trouble, even if that means locking you in your room. Is that understood?”

  Pain shafted up her arm as she screamed and yanked away.

  “You’re hurting me!” she cried. “How dare you?”

  Bobby Lee moved closer—so close that he could smell the peppermint flavor of her mouthwash.

  “I’ll do more than hurt you if you fuck up again, Mother dear.”

  Mona blanched. “What the hell do you mean?”

  Bobby Lee smiled, and in that moment he had no way of knowing how like his mother he looked.

  “You think you’re so smart. You figure it out.”

  Mona pivoted angrily. Unwilling for him to see how his words had rattled her, she stalked toward the door, her legs pumping beneath the tight red velvet like well-oiled pistons. When she got to the door, she turned and shouted, “You son of a bitch!”

  He grinned. “You should know.”

  The door slammed behind her with a solid thud, rattling a picture on a nearby wall. Bobby Lee stood for a moment, thoughtfully staring after her exit, then shrugged and went back to his coffee. He had a meeting to attend and no more time to dwell on the oversexed woman who’d given him life.

  Six

  Ben English was in good spirits as he and his partner pulled up to the gates of Ariel Simmons’s estate on the south edge of Dallas. Red pointed to the massive iron angels on either side of the entrance.

  “Unless she’s got one hell of an explanation for the picture of her that we found in Finelli’s apartment, she’s going to be needing more than two of those fellows,” he said.

  Ben shrugged as he pressed the button on the call box.

  “Maybe it was just a poor choice of Halloween costumes.”

  Red grinned. “Black leather, a whip and iron spikes, maybe… but I don’t think that man in manacles was part of the costume.”

  Ben nodded. “Yeah, and if Finelli hadn’t written her name on the back of the photo, chances are we would never have been able to identify her. Looks a damn sight different than the slender blonde angel who appears on television four nights a week.”