Fractured

by Wendy Byrne

  “He’s stable for now, but he’s being transferred to surgery so we can patch up the hole in his liver. He sustained a shot through his thigh as well, but that passed through. He’s young and appears relatively healthy, but with massive trauma like this you never know.”

  “If he’s conscious, I’d like to see him.”

  “He’s not up for answering any questions, Detective.”

  “It’s not like that.” She shook her head. “He’s my cousin. He needs to know I’m here.”

  The doctor hesitated for a few second before acquiescing. “Follow me. You can see him for a few moments.”

  He looked so young and vulnerable and deathly pale. They’d cut off his bloody clothes and his body was covered in a sheet just below the waist. They’d somehow stopped the flow of blood at least temporarily.

  Isabella fought against reacting. Instead, she worried the scrap of cloth within her fingers while thoughts of revenge simmered low in her belly.

  She’d seen more trauma victims than she cared to think about, but this was much more frightening. Dealing with life and death each day, she had to learn to numb her feelings or risk going absolutely crazy. She didn’t feel so numb at all when she looked at Lou.

  She grasped his fingers, felt the warmth of his skin, and a sliver of hope shimmered inside. “You’re going to be okay, Lou.” She knew people said this every day to loved ones and they still died. But somehow she had to believe this would be different.

  His eyes fluttered to a half open position. “Bella…get Cynthia and Junior.” Without another word he closed his eyes.

  She clutched his fingers tighter. “You need to tell me where.” Tears of frustration hung on the fringes of her lashes. “I—”

  The doctor touched her shoulder. “We need to bring him to surgery. I’ll come see you as soon as we’re out.”

  Isabella drew in a breath and tried to tamp down her anger, her fear, her overwhelming sense of powerlessness. Lost in thought, she didn’t know how long she’d waited, or even what was going on around her, until the doctor reappeared in front of her. Once again, she led her into the same private area. “The operation went okay.” She drew in a deep breath. “I’ll be honest with you, Detective, his odds aren’t good.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “His liver suffered a lot of damage.”

  “Doesn’t that organ regenerate itself or something? How about a transplant?”

  “Yes, it does regenerate itself, but it takes time. And he is too sick to consider a transplant.”

  “What do I do?”

  “Get in touch with his immediate family and make sure they get here.” She didn’t add before it’s too late, but she might as well have.

  How could she do that? Despite being a detective, she hadn’t been successful in accomplishing that for the last couple of weeks. What were the chances she’d be successful now?

  She called Landry and gave him an update. “Any ideas?” Her mind felt distracted, unable to focus. All she could picture was Junior’s sweet chubby face. She squeezed her eyes shut to blot it out.

  “I suppose you’ve already tried Cynthia’s relatives.” Landry’s voice brought her back.

  “Her family is pretty lowlife. Half of them are in jail. The other half live in Mexico.”

  “Friends?”

  “The only friend I ever saw spent time in Stateville with my father. Sergio, who has likewise vanished.” The name slipped out of her mouth like a curse. While she never trusted the guy, she couldn’t help but think about the possibilities. None of them were good.

  “Not as of about an hour ago. They found his body with a gunshot wound to the head, dumped in an alley on the south side.”

  She swore softly.

  “Do you want me to check out early and swing by the hospital?”

  “No. I can handle this alone.” She pushed the button before he had a chance to say anything more.

  Her temper simmered with each pass she made inside the small waiting room as she thought hard about what to do next. Finding Cynthia and Junior would be like finding a needle in a haystack. But she needed to do something that could make her believe she could take control of the situation.

  Once the thought settled inside, she barged out the door. Maybe this was really why she didn’t want Landry near. She didn’t want him to stop her.

  The drive to Schmidt didn’t take long. What she was doing was stupid and idiotic…and juvenile. Intellectually she knew that. That didn’t mean she would stop. Somebody had to be held accountable for what happened to Lou, and everything stemmed back to Schmidt Packaging.

  Right now, she wanted to be unreasonable. She wanted to intimidate and scare and do all those things she wasn’t supposed to do. She was hurt and frightened and wanted somebody else to feel the same way.

  She got out of the car and stalked up the front walkway. After yanking open the door, she knocked on the glass partition.

  The not-so-friendly receptionist stayed behind the bullet-proof glass and gave her a tight smile. She slammed her badge against the window. “I want to see Jonathan Schmidt. Now.”

  Adrenaline surged like water from a fireman’s hose inside her veins. She barely held on to her temper while she waited. A more productive use of her time would be to try to find Cynthia and Junior, but until she confronted Schmidt she couldn’t think straight enough to go forward. She needed answers.

  Taking her anger and frustration out on the real perpetrator of this mess felt like the right thing to do right now, even if doing so could potentially cost her her job. She huffed out a breath and turned to see Jonathan Schmidt opening the door to greet her. He had that same phony smile on his face.

  “I’d like my tour now.”

  “I need a little more notice.” A nanosecond break in his façade appeared before he gave her his million-dollar smile once again.

  “Why? What are you trying to hide?” She muscled her way past him into the office section and headed toward the factory part of the facility. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the receptionist looking to Schmidt for direction. “I want to know what you do here.”

  “As I told you, Detective, we produce packaging supplies, nothing more, nothing less.”

  “Bull. I don’t believe a word you say.”

  “Really, detective, it’s a rather boring business. If not for the family legacy issue, I would have pursued something much more interesting.”

  “If you’re not trying to hide anything then why is it that my cousin, Lou, worked here and was laid off, even though you told me you’ve never had to do that? Why do you have a string of gangster wannabes frequenting your establishment? Why do you hire convicts?” Her mouth stopped working momentarily as she tried to get her brain in sync.

  “I didn’t realize Lou was your cousin.” He shook his head. “Truth is, I didn’t lay him off. I had to fire him for stealing, I’m afraid.”

  “Liar.”

  “Relatives. It’s a tricky business. I can see why you’d want to believe the worst of me, but I’m not lying to you.” He gave her an I’m-so-sorry-your-cousin’s-a-loser smile.

  “What did he steal, a cardboard box? Come on, if there’s nothing valuable here, what could he possibly want to steal?”

  “He stole money from one of the ladies in the office. She had just cashed her paycheck and Lou was found going into her purse.” He shrugged like he was trying to show some kind of compassion. But she didn’t buy it for a second.

  “You’re lying. There’s no way Lou would do something like that.” If he thought for one second she’d accept his integrity over her cousin’s, he wasn’t very bright.

  “I know this kind of information is tough to hear about somebody you know and care about, but I assure you it’s the truth. If you’d like I can call Monica in right now and have her tell you directly.”

  “You pay her salary, right?”

  “Yes.” The word came out as if it consisted of several syllables instead of one. Appar
ently he wasn’t as dumb as she’d suspected.

  “So she’d pretty much say whatever you wanted her to say.” She held out her hand. “Save it.”

  She muscled her way past him without too much trouble. When he tried to grab her arm, she shoved him away. He stumbled. Either he didn’t expect she’d actually have the nerve to do it or he underestimated her strength. A part of her regretted it. But a much larger part didn’t, not even for a second.

  Isabella stormed into the warehouse part of the building and ripped open a box. More than anything she wanted an ‘ah-ha’ moment. Instead, she got a box filled with a bunch of broken-down boxes. Oh, God, it felt like Ramirez all over again. Another failure was the last thing she needed in her life right now.

  She moved on to the next box and did the same with the same result. This couldn’t be happening again. “What did you do with it?”

  “Do with what Detective?”

  “The drugs? They’ve got to be here somewhere. You’re slime, and I know it.”

  His voice was quiet. “You seem upset, Detective. Why don’t you sit down?” The smug look on his face made her want to slug him. Once again, the Ramirez fiasco flashed before her eyes. He had the same smug look.

  “Don’t patronize me.” She whirled away from him a little too quickly as a bout of dizziness followed. It was then she remembered she hadn’t eaten at all today. That, combined with the weird smell in back, made her feel woozy.

  Her arm throbbed. Her head ached. Her stomach rumbled. And her insides felt like they might explode from the pressure.

  But before she got a chance to say anything else, a couple of goons walked through the door. One of them grasped her arm. She tried to twist away, but he wasn’t having any of it.

  Jonathan Schmidt crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I’m afraid I’ve indulged your little hissy fit long enough, Detective Sanchez. My employees will escort you to the door before things get any further out of hand and you lose your job instead of just getting a demotion.”

  Did they want her to leave because she was causing a scene, or did they want her to leave because she was getting close to figuring it all out? In her muddled brain, she couldn’t be too sure either way.

  In the end, she didn’t have any options. No doubt Ms. Sourpuss at the front desk had her trigger finger ready to dial 9-1-1 if given the nod. Instead she shrugged out of their grasp and headed toward the door, trying not to feel like a complete failure.

  Coming here hadn’t helped her cause. No doubt the lieutenant would hear about it within the next hour or two. She’d be lucky if she didn’t get busted back to patrol.

  But somehow a part of her figured it was worth it.

  Frustrated, she gave Schmidt one last caustic glance and muttered “later’ before walking out the door with her head held high. Next she hopped into her car and headed toward her next destination. Her phone started to ring not ten minutes later. The calls came every few minutes or so, and they alternated between the lieutenant and Landry. She didn’t answer either. When she wouldn’t answer the phone, Landry sent her a text: ‘What going on?’

  She didn’t respond. Instead, she kept going.

  * * *

  “Where’s she at?” Landry tamped down the frustration. He knew Lou being shot had pushed her off that precarious cliff she’d been perched on.

  “She just left Schmidt.” Malone blew out a breath. “Everything we’re trying to do there is probably down the toilet after her tirade. The guy already called his lawyer about police harassment. No doubt it’s going to be on the news.”

  “And whatever they were doing there will probably go underground for the time being,” Landry said. He should have known better than to leave her alone.

  “If they’re doing anything. We still can’t prove a thing.”

  “Ramirez wouldn’t have come out of hiding for nothing. They wouldn’t have gone after Lou. Sergio turning up dead has to somehow play into this as well.”

  “Except we’ve got to somehow tie the pieces together. I hope Isabella’s antics haven’t caused irreparable harm,” Malone said.

  Landry knew she couldn’t handle another failure. From the looks of things, that is exactly where this was all headed. “Do you know where she is?”

  “Right now stuck in traffic where she can’t do any more damage. What’s your best guess where she’s headed?”

  “I hope she’s not going to try to find Ramirez.” Landry finally managed to give voice to his worst fear. The guy would kill Isabella in a heartbeat, especially if he thought he could get away with it.

  “In that case, the guys tailing her are going to need back-up.”

  “I hope I’m wrong.” Landry’s gut clenched as he hung up.

  Jonas gave him a quizzical glance. “Are you on speed dial with some Fed?”

  “I’m trying to help Isabella.” Landry blew out a breath. “What do you think about Matthews? Do you think he’s dirty?”

  “He’s a prick, but let’s face it, the kid isn’t too bright. He’d have been caught long ago if he’d been on the take.”

  Landry nodded. “Do you know what kind of car he drives?”

  Jonas shook his head. “Why you ask?”

  “Following up on something.”

  “For Isabella?” Jonas cursed. “You know I love that girl to death, but I swear, ever since that thing with her father, she’s gone a little crazier than usual, don’t you think?”

  * * *

  Driving through the city streets was brutal, but she did it because sitting around felt like a lesson in frustration. After the fiasco at Schmidt, she had an urgent need to shake the trees until she could figure out how everything tied together.

  Canvassing the drug-infested Westside neighborhood, she finally spotted Tito and some of his gangbanging cronies and pulled to the curb.

  Once they spotted her, they started making catcalls. “What you want, bitch cop?”

  Normally that kind of thing rolled off her back, but today was different. She walked up to Tito and grabbed him by the front of his coat. “You send the word out to Ramirez I want to talk to him. Tell him to stop hiding like a scared-cat and come meet me one on one. Got it?” She pushed his chest and he stumbled back a few steps.

  “What wrong with you? I could kill you for that,” he postured, glancing at his buddies for support.

  She unholstered her gun. “Go ahead and try it.” Even in her own mind, she knew she was acting out of control, but couldn’t reign herself in. Somehow she was responsible for all this and it needed to stop. The only way to do that was to get to Ramirez. She needed to cut off the head of the snake.

  Car doors slammed. When she turned, two Feds flanked her. How could she have forgotten she had a tail? Because this had been one big, humungous, screwed-up day. Thankfully, they didn’t say anything, just stood behind her.

  “Listen we don’t want no trouble. And we don’t know where Ramirez is.” Instead of acting tough like he had before, Tito capitulated as he watched the Feds approach.

  “Bull.” First her mother, then her father, now Lou was going to die, and it was all because of her. That thought tumbled around her head until she wanted to scream to make it stop.

  “I think we’re done here, Detective Sanchez.” The Fed touched her arm to drive home his point.

  While she brushed him off, she knew there was nothing more she could do. She sent out the word; hopefully sooner or later Ramirez would take the bait.

  As soon as she got into her car, she laid her head against the steering wheel and fingered the handkerchief in her pocket. That had been the second crazy thing she’d done in the last thirty minutes. Tears littered her eyes. “I need some help here,” she muttered under her breath. She was alone, like she’d always been. But this time she didn’t feel very good about it.

  Desperate for a sense of control, she called Malone. “Call off your watchdogs. Now.” Her hands still trembled with anger and adrenaline. She needed to find Cynthia and Junior before
the bad guys did, and these idiots were attached to her hip instead of joining in the search. “Send them off to do something productive, like find my cousin’s family. Oh, wait, your guys can’t help with that. They’ve been following me for days, but still couldn’t keep Lou safe. If you ask me, they’re worthless.” Having a target for some of her frustration didn’t make her feel much better.

  “You have a death wish, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. You’ve made that pretty clear.” For the first time, Isabella recognized anger in his tone.

  The uber-cool Malone finally broke. She felt a small sense of victory in that.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The dreary day turned quickly into dark as night moved in. Isabella felt sick to her stomach. Instead of trying to find Cynthia and Junior, she’d let her emotions run amok and had accomplished nothing during the last several hours.

  When would she learn? And, more importantly, what could she do now?

  Going back to the hospital would only make her more frustrated. Going home without Landry there would be even worse. She shook her head. When had she become so reliant on him? She’d learned long ago that people leave. Nothing good could come from that kind of attachment in her life.

  Her phone buzzed, stopping her train of thought. “Hello.”

  “Why haven’t you been answering my calls, Sanchez?”

  “I’ve been a little busy, Lieutenant.” At this point she was driving endlessly through the streets, uncertain where to go.

  “So I’ve heard. We can talk about that later, but right now I had a call about a kidnapping.”

  “You’ve got to get somebody else to take it. I’m busy.” She already had the phone away from her ear and was ready to close it when she heard the lieutenant’s voice again.

  “It’s your cousin’s wife and baby who were taken.”

  “What?” An uncomfortable shiver wormed down to the base of her spine, sending shards down her legs and into her chest. The accompanying wooziness and anger shifted into pure and potent fear.

  Thinking about Cynthia and Junior in the hands of the same people who’d shot and nearly killed Lou made her blood run cold.