Black Moon Rising

by Ann Simas

  The doctor sighed. “It would be quicker for me to list the ones she might not have.”

  Luca’s insides twisted into a knot. “That bad, huh?”

  Wright nodded. “I’ve ordered up some flumazenil from the pharmacy. That’s a BZD antagonist, which I know means nothing to a non-medical person, but in a nutshell, it can counteract an overdose.”

  Jesus, an innocent bystander stops to help Della and may end up dead for her efforts. “I’ll be right back,” Luca said, motioning for Crawford to follow him. Trey came down the hall at the same time, so he waited to speak. “The guy who did this said Della is, and I quote, ‘dead meat anyway.’” He glanced toward his sister’s room. “Here’s what I’m not clear on. Did he think he’d gone into Della’s room? Or did he mean to go into Fyfe’s room and the next person on the list was Della?”

  “Either way,” Trey said, “it sounds like they both need protection twenty-four/seven.”

  “Yeah, I called it in that way,” Luca agreed, “but it doesn’t answer the question. What did Della see or hear, that the Fyfe woman also saw or heard, that makes someone want one or both of them dead?”

  “You think it’s Boyson?” Brant asked.

  “Shit, I don’t know!” Trey muttered. “Can his long arm of fucked up law reach outside the jail to arrange a hit?”

  “Stranger things have happened,” Luca said.

  “Yeah, but not in our town, and not with our PD.”

  “Regardless, Brant, I want you in Fyfe’s room. Same procedures I gave to Pat.”

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Trey asked.

  “Back downstairs.”

  “Ix-nay on that. You’re off duty and you’re not authorized to investigate on this case, remember? Family ties and all that bullshit?”

  Luca launched several f-bombs.

  “Look,” Trey placated, “you can take turns monitoring between the two rooms, maybe give Pat and Brant breaks so they can use the head, or get something to drink or eat.”

  Luca knew what his partner said made sense, but he didn’t like sitting around doing squat. That just wasn’t his way.

  “The LT will be here shortly,” Trey went on. “I promise that as soon as I talk to him, and we get some kind of strategy worked out, I’ll find out who that POS down there is, then I’ll be back to fill you in. They can’t stop me from talking to you.”

  Luca’s head jerked up. “Is he still alive?”

  “Yeah. It wasn’t me who fired, or he wouldn’t be. Trapp caught him in the upper right shoulder. They just took him to the ER.”

  “Glad it wasn’t you,” Luca said. “You’d be out of commission for hours, doing paperwork, then on involuntary paid leave while they did their eff-ing review.”

  “Amen to that.”

  “Someone on him in the ER?”

  “Mahoney for now. LT will assign someone else when he gets here.”

  “We’d better be able to get some answers out of him when he comes out of the ER.”

  “Not we, me. Related to the victim, remember?”

  Luca raked his fingers through his hair. “Just so you know, I’m not likely to forget, but all the same, I don’t like it!”

  “I know, partner, but them’s the rules.”

  Once Trey had gone, Luca said to Brant, “Get in there, but stay out of the way, or they’ll kick your ass out—something about hospital rules taking precedence over cop stuff.”

  Brant grinned. “Not to worry, man. There’s not a nurse alive I can’t schmooze.”

  Luca grunted. “I’m going to sit in Della’s room a while.” He stopped at the work desk between the two rooms and picked up his sister’s chart. He didn’t understand everything, but her vitals were still good. Apparently little memory loss beyond the actual event, and no cranial bleeding. He closed the file and texted Maria. Less than a minute passed before she responded. On my way. He texted right back, Wait until morning. Please. She responded, OK.

  Before he could enter Della’s room, his lieutenant, Desi Abbott, showed up. “Let’s get some of this down while it’s fresh,” he said to Luca, “but first, how’s your sister doing?”

  Luca told him what he knew.

  “And the woman” —the LT glanced at his notes— “Sunshine Fyfe?”

  “They’re monitoring her. They don’t know how much he injected, and apparently symptoms may be slow to present.”

  “Tell me what you know about her.”

  That wasn’t much, but Luca tried. “Single mom of two small kids, husband killed in Afghanistan. She writes kids’ books for a living. Her mother is Bebe Carson.”

  The LT’s mouth dropped open. “The movie star?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No shit? I heard she lives here, but I never expected to cross paths with her.” Finally he got down to the incident downstairs. “How many shots did you hear fired?”

  “Two. One by the suspect when the cleaning lady clocked him with her mop and one by a patrol officer, who I heard was Davis Trapp, What’s that brain of yours latching onto after the suspect fired his weapon.”

  His LT nodded. “Something you should know.”

  Luca arched an eyebrow in question.

  “They did a pat-down, looking for ID and other weapons.”

  “And?”

  “William James Morgan. Trey is running him now.”

  Luca recognized there was a “but” coming. He made a circular motion with his hand.

  “He had a piece of paper in his pocket. Both your sister and the Fyfe woman’s names were on it, along with their room numbers. The thing is, he had the numbers reversed.”

  “So he did think he was injecting Della.”

  “And Fyfe was apparently next.”

  “WTF.”

  “What’s that brain of yours latching onto?”

  “I don’t know yet, but first my sister gets hit riding her bike, then Sunny Fyfe gets blamed for it, and now this. They didn’t know each other before this, but it’s pretty damned obvious that my sister has seen or heard something that made her a target, and now Fyfe is, as well, by association.”

  “You’re not going to be the one who finds out what the tie-in is.”

  Luca flexed his jaw and glared at his LT.

  “I mean it, Luca. We had an officer-involved shooting here. This investigation has got to be by the book, got me?”

  Luca understood the current climate concerning police, and yeah, he got that he had to butt out of the investigation, but damned if he couldn’t contribute behind the scenes if he damned well wanted to.

  After thirty minutes of questions and repeated warnings not to interfere, Abbott left to go back downstairs.

  Luca pulled a business card out of his inside pocket and dialed the number that had been scribbled on the back. Harry Keene answered on the first ring.

  “Mr. Keene, Detective Amorosi here. I calling to advise you that someone entered your daughter’s room this evening and dosed her with Rohypnol.”

  After a an obvious startled pause, Fyfe’s father asked, “Isn’t that the date-rape drug?”

  “It is.”

  “Dear God! Are you saying someone tried to rape our daughter?”

  “Honestly, sir, I don’t know what he was trying to do. I interrupted him while he was connecting a syringe to her IV. We caught him trying to leave the building. He was armed and subsequently shot by a police officer. He’s in the ER right now, but as soon as they treat him and he can talk, he’ll be interrogated. The investigation is ongoing and either I or my partner will make every effort to keep you informed of what’s going on.” He took a deep breath. “In the meantime, I just thought you should know. Sunny doesn’t have any family here with her, and I thought maybe you or your wife should come back to the hospital.”

  “What aren’t you telling me? Just how—” Harry choked on his words “—how bad is she?”

  Luca decided not to go into the grim facts, as the doctor had related them. “They’re monitoring her. Th
ey don’t know how much he injected into her IV line, but there is an antidote, I guess you’d call it. The doc is waiting for it to arrive.”

  “Thank you for calling, Detective. I’m hanging up now. We’ll be there soon.”

  Luca disconnected the call and shoved his phone into his pocket. He dragged his hand over his face, took another deep breath, and stepped into Della’s room.

  He didn’t even have a chance to grab a chair before Brant stuck his head in the door and whispered urgently, “Come quick!”

  “What’s wrong?” Luca demanded.

  “She’s having a seizure. The doc thinks it’s because of the roofie.”

  Jesus, what else could go wrong?

  They tried to enter Sunny’s room, but Attila the Nurse shoved them right back out.

  “You should call her family,” Brant said.

  “Just did. They’re on their way.”

  Brant raked his fingers through his hair, standing it on end. “This has really turned into a shit storm. What the hell is wrong with Boyson, anyway? He’s always been a tough-guy know-it-all, but this crap with him bullying suspects has gotten way out of hand.”

  “Much as I dislike IA, they’ll figure it out. We can’t have guys like him on the force, and yeah, I’m sorry he’s going to serve time for what he did, but when you step on people and batter them like he did this woman, there’s got to be repercussions.”

  “Agreed.” Brant aimed tortured eyes at the closed door. “Do you think she’ll make it?”

  “I don’t know. The doc said a roofie OD can be fatal.”

  “Shit. Goddammit all to hell. I should’ve stepped in sooner. I stood there like a damned idiot rookie and let him do this.”

  Luca couldn’t disagree. It sure as hell was going to suck if Sunshine Fyfe’s death had to be what it took to get Boyson off the street and off the force.

  No sooner had the thought occurred to him than a Code Blue was called for room 711. Sunny’s room. The two of them moved over to the counter, keeping the area outside her door clear.

  Luca and Brant passed each other repeatedly, pacing the length of the counter. Occasionally, someone would open the door and go in or come out, but no one would tell them anything. Fifteen minutes later, Bebe and Harry Keene rushed in.

  “Any word?” Harry asked, looking disheveled.

  “None. They’re still working on her.”

  “Working on her? What’s happened now?”

  “We don’t know,” Luca said. “They’re not telling us anything, but I suspect is has something to do with the Rohypnol.”

  “They’ve said nothing?” Bebe asked, her pretty face a mask of distress. She had her pajamas on under her jacket and looked like she’d aged ten years since she’d left the hospital a few hours earlier.

  “Not a peep,” Luca said.

  Harry swung away and headed to the nursing station. “We need an update on our daughter’s condition.”

  He was forceful and he was Sunny’s father. The nurse looked about to refuse, but instead, she came out from behind the counter and went into Sunny’s room. She reappeared a few minutes later.

  The four of them stared at her with expressions varying from worry to anger to fear.

  “She’s had a mix of reactions from the flunitrazepam.”

  “Is that the Rohypnol?” Bebe asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What kind of reactions?” Harry asked, his tone strident.

  The nurse looked at Brant. “It started with hallucinations. This police officer summoned us immediately when that began. She also developed tachycardia and pyrexia. We paged the doctor right away, but before he arrived, she had another asthma attack. We put her on the nebulizer at once, but while she was taking the treatment, she began to convulse.”

  “English, please,” Harry snapped. “Tachycardia? Pyrexia?”

  “Rapid heart beat, elevated temperature.”

  “And did the neb give her any relief?”

  “As I said, she began to convulse before she completed the treatment.”

  “Goddammit, nurse, is my daughter dead or alive?” Harry bellowed.

  “They’re working on her, sir. Perhaps it would be best if you wait in the lounge—”

  “Perhaps it would be best if you be honest with us!”

  Bebe clutched his arm. “It won’t do any good to yell at the nursing staff.”

  Luca agreed with her, but the nurse also had a point. “Maybe we should wait in the lounge.” He leveled his cop-eyes look at the nurse. “Please come and give us updates.”

  “I will.” She said to the Keenes, “Would you like me to have a chaplain come up to be with you?”

  Bebe collapsed against her husband. “Ohmygod!”

  Harry’s face drained of all color. “If it’s that dire, get us a priest!” He shook his head, as if to clear it. “Never mind. I’ll take care of it.” He pulled out his phone and speed-dialed someone as he put his arm around his wife to support her.

  Sunny’s parents moved sluggishly behind the nurse, who escorted them down the hall. Brant accompanied them, while Luca stuck his head into Della’s room to make sure she was still sleeping soundly. He rattled off his cell number for Pat Dempsey to put into his phone.

  Exhausted and running on adrenaline alone, he joined the others in the lounge.

  Chapter 10

  . . .

  The group of four waited in silence for the first ten minutes, except for Bebe’s sobs. Just when Luca thought they might have to call a doctor to sedate Sunny’s mother, a priest entered the room.

  “Father,” Harry called out, relief evident in his voice, “thank you for coming out in the middle of the night.”

  The priest moved with long strides across the room. Luca was stunned when he realized his cousin, Tommy Sabatino, was the priest Harry Keene had phoned to be with them.

  Tommy didn’t look surprised to see Luca there. He nodded at him and embraced the Keenes. “I’m here whenever you need me. What’s going on?”

  Harry tried to say, but he broke down. Bebe didn’t fare any better and turned beseeching eyes on Luca. “Detective, please…?”

  Luca filled Tommy in on the current medical emergency, then backtracked and brought him up-to-date on how Sunny had come to be in the hospital in the first place.

  “Will you pray with us, Father?” Bebe asked.

  “Of course.” He led them over to a group of chairs, rearranging them to be closer together. “Would you like to join us?” he asked Luca and Brant.

  Both nodded and Luca wondered if Tommy thought it odd that while he never attended church anymore, he was still willing to pray.

  Together, they joined hands and the priest began. He included Della in his prayer, and for that Luca was thankful. His own prayers over the past forty-eight hours had been short, to the point of Please, God. Please, God. But then he believed God heard you and knew what you meant, even if you couldn’t get the words out.

  The nurse came fifteen minutes later and said, “They’re still working on her.”

  Tommy prayed a little longer, then they all sat in silence, contemplating life’s cruel ironies, or perhaps God’s mysterious ways.

  When an hour had passed, a hospitalist Luca hadn’t met before came through the door. He tried to judge from the doctor’s expression whether he was there to deliver good news or bad. Luca simply couldn’t tell.

  “You’re Ms. Fyfe’s parents?” he asked, inclining his head toward Bebe and Harry.

  They nodded and stood, though Bebe did so on shaky legs and it seemed the only thing that kept her from collapsing was her husband holding her up on one side and Tommy on the other. Luca and Brant stood, as well. Two big men, over six feet tall, stoically flanking Sunny’s parents and her priest, as if they could protect the couple from whatever bad news the doctor had.

  “How is she?” Bebe managed, sounding stronger than she looked.

  “Right now, she’s stable.” He blew out a troubled breath. “We lost her
once, but we brought her back. Your girl is a fighter. She’s got a strong will to live.”

  “That’s our Sunny,” Harry said, his voice gravelly. “Is she…is she over the hump?”

  “I think so, but we’ll know better in twenty-four hours.” He hesitated a moment, then continued. “The flunitrazepam normally takes around twelve hours to work out of a person’s system, but given the adverse effects Sunny experienced, it seems probable that she received an amount beyond a normal dose.” He looked toward Luca and Brant, then back to the Keenes. “I don’t know if I’m fully up to speed on what happened earlier. His gaze went back to Luca. “Perhaps the police can enlighten me?”

  Luca related what he knew, beginning from the moment the man had entered Sunny’s room and started messing with her IV.

  Bebe moved over to him and grasped the lapels of his suit coat. “Thank God you were in that room, Detective. Our Sunny would be dead for certain if you hadn’t been there. For that, we owe you a debt of gratitude.”

  Luca didn’t ordinarily like people grabbing him or his clothes, but Sunny’s mother was about as dangerous as a butterfly. He clasped his hands over hers, dwarfing them. “I’m thankful I was there, too, ma’am.”

  Harry Keene shuffled over to them and put out his hand. Luca took it and met his gaze directly.

  “Thank you, son.”

  Luca nodded.

  Bebe asked the doctor, “Can we go in and be with her for a while?”

  “Yes, but she probably won’t know you’re there. She has a drug cocktail going on that should keep her under until morning.”

  Sunny’s mother turned back to Luca. “We’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

  “I’ll be here,” he said.

  He and Brant exchanged a look after they’d gone. “How about a cupp’a?”

  “I think I’ll need it,” Brant said.

  “Tommy?”

  “Count me in. Looks like you two have had a rough night.”

  “Bad enough,” Luca said, “but nothing like Sunny Fyfe’s.” He pulled out his wallet and went to the coffee machine. Moments later, the three of them stood near the windows, contemplating the darkness beyond.