Edge of the Heat 3

by Lisa Ladew

  Emma laughed. “Yeah, what are you blind? You haven’t noticed that she likes him?”

  “Well, no, not really. I mean, when they first met she seemed like she might be interested in him, but I haven’t seen anything lately.”

  “She’s hiding it. She’s embarrassed because he doesn’t like her back.”

  Craig sat silent for a minute and then asked, “Why do you think he doesn’t like her back?”

  “Well he doesn’t does he? He’s always so mean to her.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. Hawk’s kind of complicated, especially around women. I think maybe that means he does like her.”

  Emma laughed. “What, like back in elementary school where the boys pulled your hair if they liked you?”

  “Yeah, in a way I guess. Maybe he’s attracted to her and fighting it or something. He hasn’t had a girlfriend in a long time and he won’t talk about it, but I think something happened to really mess him up that I don’t know about. It could have been before we got close at 18 or when he got out of the Army after 3 years. I signed up for another 2 and got sent to Germany so I didn’t talk to him much for 2 years. When my enlistment was done and I came home he was different somehow around women. It’s been 11 years now and I’ve seen him date very casually, but he’s never gotten close with a woman since then.”

  “In 11 years? Could he be gay?” Emma asked. She expected Craig to laugh and say no way, but he didn’t. Instead his face grew serious, contemplative.

  “I’m pretty sure he’s not gay. I wondered that once but I thought about it and it’s not like he’s leading some secret life somewhere that he hides from people. He just doesn’t date anyone. And those women I’ve seen him date casually? They were actually one night stands. He’d meet a woman, bring her home, but never see her again. He doesn’t do it often. Probably only when he feels like he can’t stand to be alone in his bed for one more second.”

  Emma nodded. “You’re right, it doesn’t sound like he’s gay. Just like he’s ruined for relationships.”

  “Did I ever tell you what he said when I asked him what his deal was, back when he ignored Vivian that day in my hospital room?” Craig asked.

  Emma shook her head.

  “Well, he didn’t make a lot of sense, but he said something about her being rich and he implied that she was probably not a very nice person because of it.”

  Emma sat straight up, a little irritated. “Well that’s just silly. Vivian’s a wonderful person. He’s just not giving her a chance! What does he have against people with money anyway?”

  Craig chuckled. “Now I’m going to tell you something that will blow your mind.” He leaned in and whispered into her ear, “Hawk is rich.”

  “What?”

  Craig leaned back, obviously pleased with himself. “Yep. Like I said, he’s a complicated guy. His family is uber-rich and he grew up with that whole lifestyle. The mansion, the fancy cars, the prep school, the country club. All of it. He’s always wanted to make his own way though, and he always wanted to be some sort of law enforcement officer. His dad used to push him to be an attorney so he could get into politics, but that’s not what Hawk wanted. He wanted to be in the trenches.”

  “So his family is rich then? But not him.”

  “Nope, he’s rich too, as far as I know. His grandpa set up a trust fund for him and his sister when they were just babies. I’m not sure how much money we are talking about but I think it’s at least a couple of million dollars. He got full access to the fund when he was 25, but he told me once he’s never touched it. He could just give it all to charity but I don’t think he’s done that. I’m not sure what his plan is for it. He doesn’t like to talk about it.”

  “Well now things really make no sense. So if he’s rich, and his family is rich, then what right does he have to judge Vivian because she is rich?”

  “Well, I got the idea that it had something to do with women in particular. Like maybe Vivian reminds him of someone he dated who wasn’t very nice.”

  Emma nodded. “Ahhhh, that makes more sense. And if she was rich then he’s just grasping at the most obvious connection in order to not have to examine it or something.”

  “You should have gone into psychiatry,” Craig teased.

  “Yep, I would’ve made a great shrink. I wonder exactly what this woman did to him to put him off dating for 11 years.”

  “If Lucy was still here I’d ask her.” Craig said in a far-off voice.

  Emma felt a little pang of emotion in her chest at the mention of Lucy. Was it jealousy? Pain? Guilt? She wasn’t sure. Lucy was Hawk’s sister and had been Craig’s fiance when she was alive. Lucy was the reason Craig and Hawk were here in Westwood Harbor investigating Norman. Their only evidence said Norman had killed her. Emma sighed. Why did life have to be so complicated?

  The patio door opened and Hawk, mouth perpetually set in a grim line, stepped over the threshold. He already had a beer in his hand and big bags under his eyes.

  “Hey man, good to see you,” Craig told him, holding out a hand.

  Hawk shook it, but his eyes were drawn to the far side of the fire, where Vivian’s laugh rang across the yard. Emma followed his gaze and saw Vivian put a hand on Dennis’ shoulder as she laughed with her head thrown back, completely missing Hawk’s entrance.

  Hawk’s eyes narrowed as he watched them.

  Emma elbowed Craig in the gut and motioned to Hawk’s face. Craig made a shushing gesture back to her.

  Dennis noticed Hawk and put his hand in the air. “Hawk! You made it!”

  Hawk raised his beer in greeting. Vivian didn’t move. She watched him with her wide eyes, but never waved or said a word. Hawk watched her back. Dennis, oblivious to the tension turned back to Vivian and continued with his story about the guy robbing the 7-11, wearing a dirty stocking over his head. Vivian broke the eye contact and turned to Dennis, drinking in his words.

  Hawk sat heavily in the chair next to Craig and Emma.

  “Hawk, you look exhausted,” Emma said.

  Hawk scrubbed his face with his hand. “Yeah, I haven’t gotten much sleep lately. I’m trying to figure out if Norman is really playing ball, or if he is just stringing me along.”

  “What’s his story?” Craig asked.

  “Well, he was very careful. He gave me some names and dates of some people who were threatened and had their car and house taken away by a judge he says is on the take. But he wouldn’t say who is paying the judge, and he says he can’t show me proof unless I get him a computer. He also wouldn’t say anything about working for Senator Oberlin.”

  Craig grunted. “So he’s talking, but he’s not saying much.”

  “Exactly. He told me something he knows that somebody else did, and not about the things we really want to know about. I think I may have to actually have him put in general population and then tell him I’ll pull him out but he has to answer my specific questions - not just tell me random stuff.”

  “Yeah, and we need to find something before Senator Oberlin just finds someone else to do his dirty work. That man is dangerous,” Craig added.

  Hawk didn’t say anything, but he nodded, his eyes focused on Vivian and Dennis.

  Chapter 5

  Norman lay in his bed, as always, but today something was different. He fantasized he could feel something in his left foot. He closed his eyes and focused. It was an incredibly strange feeling. He thought he could feel the bottom of his left foot where it met his toes. But he couldn’t feel anything else. It was like his foot, but floating out in space somewhere. He took a deep breath, scared to try, but eager to try at the same time. Could he move it? He moved his head to the right, reminding himself how to move his body. Then he sent the impulse to his foot.

  Nothing happened.

  But it felt different. Like something had changed. He tried again. The sensation in his foot changed, like maybe his toes had wiggled and they were in a different position now?

  He opened his mouth
to scream for a nurse - anyone to come watch him try to move his foot and tell him if it really moved or not - when a deep, dark, long-forgotten voice in his head said don’t do it.

  He shut his mouth closed with a snap and squeezed his eyes shut against the voice.

  Don’t do it, the voice commanded again. Don’t give up your advantage. If they know you aren’t paralyzed anymore, you lose your advantage.

  But I am still paralyzed, he said to the voice.

  Not for long.

  ***

  The next day, Norman lay in his bed, contemplating what a return of function to his body might mean. He didn’t dare think about maybe escaping, that seemed like too big of a dream, but being able to sit up, and feed himself, and maybe walk, were all grand accomplishments in his mind right now.

  He heard footsteps in the corridor. Strange footsteps. Light and clipped. He snapped his eyes opened and watched. He was facing the door already and saw her as soon as she turned the corner.

  She wore a long white coat, a red skirt, and red high heels, with a stethoscope around her neck. Blond curls bounced around a pretty face and red-lipsticked mouth.

  She stopped at the door and knocked on the outside of it. When she saw him looking at her she smiled. Norman hadn’t seen a smile in over a month.

  “Mr. Foster? Hi, I am Dr. Thorpe. I am the California prison system’s Neurologist. May I come in and examine you?”

  Norman wasn’t sure what to say. Someone was asking his permission? Treating him like a human being? He nodded.

  Dr. Thorpe walked in the room, bringing the scent of vanilla with her.

  She walked to his bedside and put her hands on his side.

  “How are you feeling today?”

  “Like shit.”

  Dr. Thorpe didn’t raise an eyebrow but pushed on. “I’ve read your file and you have no feeling or movement in your arms or legs, is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you can shrug your shoulders?” She lay a cool hand on his neck, where it met his shoulder. Norman shivered at the kind touch.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m going to roll you onto your back for this exam. Is that OK?”

  Norman nodded, swallowing around a lump in his throat.

  Dr. Thorpe removed the pillows from behind Norman’s back and started to help his body gently roll that way. Her eyebrows furrowed and she stopped and lifted up the side of his gown.

  “Oh my Lord,” she exclaimed. “Do the nurses turn you Mr. Foster?”

  “Yeah, in the morning.”

  “They only turn you once a day?” Her gaze locked on his, and he saw fire in her eyes. But it wasn’t meant for him. It was about him.

  “Yeah, just once usually.”

  Dr. Thorpe walked around to the other side of the bed and peeked under his gown there. She sucked in her breath. Norman didn’t even want to know what it looked like.

  Someone walked by the room. Dr. Thorpe spun around and ran out, calling for the person. “Hello, guard? Nurse?” She caught up to him in the hall. Norman could hear pieces of the conversation.

  “Bedsores … horrible … he deserves … you must take care … I insist… I’ll be filing…”

  Norman stared at the ceiling, miserable in his waiting. How did things go so bad for him? Where did he go wrong? He had been a police officer. He had been married to a lovely, sweet woman. He’d been respected and even liked. And now he was here, in a hole, shot by that lovely, sweet woman, charged with kidnapping and attempted murder, and covered with bedsores that made a prison doctor gasp.

  The doctor walked back and gave him a sweet smile. Norman read the truth in it, read her pity and heartache for him, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. In his former life he would never have stood for pity from anyone, but then he’d never needed or taken anyone’s help either.

  “Mr Foster, I’ve spoken to the nurses. You are to be turned every 2 hours when you are awake, without fail. It may take a few days for all of them to get the message, but I will ensure they do.”

  He nodded, knowing he should thank her, but unable to bring himself to do it.

  She walked back to the bed and started her examination. She grasped his hand and did something to it that Norman couldn’t see.

  “Can you feel that?”

  “No.”

  She talked as she worked. “Mr Foster, you are scheduled for an EMG to see if there is any electrical activity left in your limbs at all. Your spinal cord was not severed, just injured, so it is possible that someday you could regain partial function in at least some of your limbs. The 5 Western state prisons have to share one EMG machine, and it won’t rotate over here for 2 more weeks. But when it gets here, we will bring it to you.”

  Methodically, she checked all four limbs. When she got to his left foot, Norman felt wings of excitement beat in his chest. He could feel something! He could! A strange pressure. He knew she was touching his left foot.

  Dr. Thorpe clucked her tongue and said “Hmmmmm”. Then she asked, “Mr. Foster, can you feel this?” Norman felt conflicted. He’d never had a problem lying in his life, but suddenly he didn’t want to lie to this pretty doctor who’d been kind to him.

  “No,” he finally said, hearing the final bar in the cell of his mind crash closed.

  Chapter 6

  Senator Frank Oberlin sat at his desk, eyes squeezed shut, sweat running down his back even though the room was cold. He was lost in thought, trying desperately to think his way out of this mess. His cell phone buzzed. He glanced at it. His wife wanted to know where he was. Working late, he texted back to her. Don’t wait up for me.

  If she had any idea what kind of trouble he was in she would be mortified. She would divorce him in a second, he knew she would. She had known he had his eyes on the presidency 20 years ago, when she’d married him, but she had never had any idea what kind of things he would do to get it.

  She didn’t understand - no one did. People don’t become the president of the United States because they are good at their job or because most of the country wants them to. People become the president of the United States because they are in the right place at the right time and powerful outside forces decide they are the most likely candidate to get elected.

  Frank Oberlin was doing everything in his power to be in the right place at the right time and everything he could do to be the most likely candidate to win the vote in the upcoming election. He couldn’t stand the thought of another 4 year wait. This had to be his year.

  He looked down at his desk at the collection of coded notes he’d gathered. He couldn’t write anything down that anyone else could read, or put anything in his computer, because that would be evidence. Evidence some high and mighty FBI agent could use to connect him to something.

  FBI agent Holden Kinkaid III. Hate filled Oberlin at the thought of Agent Kinkaid and his tenacity in the investigation of Norman Foster. If he could go back in time and undo his order to Foster to kill Lucy Kinkaid he would do it in a second. He would have found another way to ensure the information that Lucy unwittingly discovered never saw the light of day. For the hundredth time he wondered if Kinkaid suspected who was behind Foster’s actions yet. For the hundredth time he wondered if Foster was talking in that prison hospital yet. For the hundredth time he racked his brain to figure out what he could do to stop this threat - this double threat.

  Foster was the biggest threat, because Foster could tell anyone all of the jobs he had done for Oberlin. He would be incriminating himself too, but sometimes people did stupid things.

  Kinkaid was the second biggest threat, because even if Foster somehow disappeared tomorrow, Kinkaid could continue the investigation, and possibly discover some threads that led back to Oberlin.

  Somehow, he had to eliminate both parts of this threat. He had an idea of how to eliminate Foster, but Kinkaid? That was the hard part. No matter how many ways he thought about it, ordering a hit on Kinkaid seemed like a bad idea. Besides, who would do it? Now tha
t Foster was paralyzed, Oberlin didn’t have anyone to turn to anymore. He needed a new contact.

  Oberlin thought back to how he had found Foster. He’d needed a job done and he’d told his nephew, the one who ran books in Vegas. Then Foster had called him.

  Oberlin felt hope bloom in his chest for the first time in a month. Maybe there was a way out of this double mess he was in. Maybe he could put his head together with a new contact and get some boots on the ground to help him figure this out.

  Senator Frank Oberlin pressed his lips together in a bloodless smile and started chewing up his notes.

  Chapter 7

  Vivian’s phone rang. It was Craig wanting to know if she could come down to headquarters so Hawk could take her DNA sample and send it off to CODIS.

  “Ok, I’ll be there.” Vivian took down the directions and hung up the phone. Her belly fluttered at the thought of seeing Hawk. She wondered if he would say anything to her.

  She grabbed her purse and headed out into her car, hoping the traffic would be light.

  As she pulled up to the building, the butterflies in her belly started up again. She bit her lip and said a silent prayer that he would be nice. She didn’t know if she could take anymore attitude from him.

  At the building she pressed the button at the front door. Craig answered in a light voice, “Come on in Vivian, just keep heading straight down the hallway.” The door buzzed and Vivian pushed it open.

  At the far end of the hallway, Craig stuck his head out and waved her in. Her footfalls in the empty corridor made her feel nervous. Like she was walking towards some horrible fate.

  Once inside the large, open room, she blinked at all the electronics. The far wall was lined with monitors that looked like they were watching several different rooms with people going about their business in them.

  “Wow,” Vivian breathed, taking it all in.

  Craig smiled. “Sit down,” he told her, indicating an office chair.

  Vivian did, looking around for Hawk. She didn’t see him.

  “Hawk is getting a test kit, he’ll be right back.”