by Sharon Sala
When he got back, Marcus was still sitting where he’d left him. He sat down in a nearby chair, and although he knew it was too soon to know anything, he still asked.
“Any news?”
Marcus shook his head.
“Do you have any news about who did this to her?”
Trey hesitated, but only for a moment.
“We’re not sure,” he said. “Olivia said something to me just before she went into surgery. It might be nothing, and then again, it might not. I gave the investigating detective the information. We won’t know for a while whether it meant anything or not.”
Marcus shuddered, then looked away, and after a few moments, Trey leaned back in his chair, sprawling his long legs out in front of him, and closed his eyes. He’d never been on this side of a crime, and he didn’t like the helplessness of it all. He tried to put himself in Marcus’s place but couldn’t wrap his mind around what must be complete devastation. The man had already lost his son and daughter-in-law to an unspeakable crime, and now his granddaughter was fighting for her life because of another.
After a while, he sat up.
“Mr. Sealy?”
Marcus looked up. “Yes?”
“Would you like some coffee?”
Marcus shook his head. “No, but thank you.”
A few more minutes passed. The silence between them lengthened before Trey thought to ask, “Is there someone I could call for you? Another family member… a close friend?”
“No,” Marcus said. “There’s no one but—” Then he looked startled. “Oh no… I didn’t even think. She will have heard it on the news and be beside herself with worry.”
“Who?” Trey asked. “I’d be more than happy to—”
“No, no,” Marcus said, then added, “But thank you. It’s Olivia’s old nanny. They’re very close. In fact, that’s where she’d been when she was… when—” Tears spilled down his cheeks. “I can’t even bring myself to say it,” he said, then slowly got to his feet. “I need to find a phone and call her myself.”
Trey took his cell phone from his pocket.
“Please… sir… use mine,” Trey said, and handed it over.
Marcus took it, looking at Trey again, only this time as if seeing him anew.
“Thank you, son.”
“For what?” Trey said. “It’s just a phone.”
“I mean, for being here… for staying with me like this.”
Trey swallowed past the knot in his throat.
“Sir, right now I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”
He watched as Marcus took the same path out of the hospital that he’d taken earlier, then dropped his head and started to pray. He prayed for Livvie’s life to be spared in every way he knew how to ask.
A short while later, Marcus came back, handed him the cell phone and sat back down. “Any news?” he asked.
“No, sir,” Trey said.
Marcus eyed Trey for a few moments, trying to figure him out. His behavior suggested something more personal than a cop’s interest in a crime, which made no sense. They’d only met him two days ago.
“Detective Bonney, may I ask you something?”
“Yes, sir, of course.”
“Earlier, I thought I heard you refer to my granddaughter as Livvie.”
Trey’s pulse skipped, then settled. It was nothing of which he should be ashamed. In fact, he should have said something on the first day. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he met Marcus’s curious gaze.
“Did I? I don’t remember saying it,” Trey said, then added, “but I’m not surprised. When we were in high school, it’s all I ever called her.”
Marcus’s eyes widened in surprise.
“High school? You and Olivia have known each other since high school?” He frowned. “I wonder why she never mentioned it earlier.”
“Well, back then, you considered me unsuitable company for her, so I’m thinking she would have assumed you might still feel the same.” Trey smiled and shrugged. “But that was years ago. Times and people change, don’t they, sir?”
Marcus’s thoughts were reeling. He kept trying to remember a time when he’d forbidden her anything.
“I’m sure you must be mistaken,” he muttered. “I can’t remember ever telling her to—” Memory emerged as he eyed Trey with sudden understanding.
“Bonney! William Bonney the third! Of course… Trey. Now I remember. You were the boy who—”
Trey quickly interrupted. “Loved your granddaughter? Yeah, that was me.”
Marcus leaned back in his chair in disbelief.
“I hope you don’t hold any of that against me,” Marcus said. “She was young. I was just trying to protect her.”
For a moment Trey held Marcus’s gaze without answering. Then he shook his head and managed a cordial smile.
“Of course not, sir. We were kids. Like I said, times and people change. Except I still care for Livvie’s… I mean, Olivia’s well-being. Surely you can allow me that much?”
Suddenly Marcus felt ashamed. He didn’t know why, and he wasn’t sure what to say, but he knew that in some way he’d overstepped the bounds of propriety. He’d kept Olivia so close to him that he hadn’t allowed her any personal life at all. What hurt the most was that, except for that time so long ago, she’d never objected. In trying to protect her, he’d also ruined her chance to make choices—and mistakes—on her own.
His shoulders slumped.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “Of course you’re free to do and say what you wish. I didn’t realize… I mean, I never meant to…” He looked down at the floor, then clasped his hands and swallowed past a knot in his throat. “When this is over, we would be honored to have you as a guest in our home. Anytime.”
Trey felt the emotion in the old man’s voice and knew what it had cost him to say that.
“Thank you,” Trey said, then added, “When this is over.”
There were a few awkward moments of silence afterward, then Trey thought to ask about the phone call Marcus had made.
“Sir?”
Marcus looked up, and his expression showed every one of his seventy years.
“Call me Marcus, please.”
Trey hesitated, then nodded.
“If you’ll call me Trey.”
“So, Trey, what did you want to know?” Marcus asked.
“Your phone call… were you able to get through?”
“Yes, thank goodness. Of course, Anna was terribly upset, as I expected her to be. Anna Walden was not only Olivia’s nanny, she was also the only mother figure my granddaughter has ever had. Olivia is very close to her. In fact, she was on her way home from visiting her when this… incident occurred.”
“I see.”
Marcus glanced down at his watch.
“I sent a car for her. In fact, she should be here soon. If you’re still here, you can meet her.”
Trey’s mouth firmed.
“I’ll still be here. I’m not going anywhere until I know Livvie’s okay.”
“Of course,” Marcus muttered. “I didn’t mean—” He sighed. “I don’t know what I meant. I don’t know what I’m saying anymore.” His voice was shaking, and then he dropped his head. “Dear God… why is this happening? Why is this happening again?”
***
Foster Lawrence had been walking the streets in a daze ever since he’d learned what had happened to the money. He didn’t know where he was, or how to get back to his hotel, and right now, he was too numb to care. The same thoughts kept going around and around in his brain, and there wasn’t anything that was going to change the facts. Twenty-five years ago he’d let the idea of a million dollars override his good sense and gotten mixed up in a mess that had landed him in prison. Still, the knowledge that the ransom money was there waiting for him had been enough to make doing the time a whole lot easier. Only now it was over. The only good thing that he could say about his life was that, for the moment, he was free, although that could
change at any moment. According to what he’d read and heard, the authorities still wanted him for questioning.
He’d been safer inside Lompoc than he was now. He didn’t know a damn thing about a dead baby, but if it was connected to the Sealy kidnapping, he knew who was probably to blame. Problem was, he didn’t know where to start looking or if the guilty party was even still alive.
He thought about just turning himself in to the police right now, saying he’d heard they wanted to talk to him and starting to talk. Looking back, he should have spilled his guts from the start, but he’d let his hate for the law and his emotional ties to the killer sway his judgment. It had cost him a million dollars and twenty-five years of his life. Now, through no fault of his own, he was in danger of losing his newly found freedom. Emotional ties aside, he wasn’t doing another twenty-five for anyone, no matter how good the reason.
He paused in front of an electronics store, staring blankly at the same television show being broadcast on a window full of television sets—flat screens, big screens, plasma screens, screens he didn’t even understand. But when a news bulletin flashed across all thirty screens, he understood that the complications of his life had just been upped.
He watched with his hands in his pockets and a blank expression on his face, listening to the newscaster stationed outside Dallas Memorial Hospital as she broadcast an update on the attempted murder of Olivia Sealy.
When it was over, he turned around and walked away. In the back of his mind, he was aware that night was near, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. There was a part of him that wanted to keep on walking—to leave the city of Dallas and the state of Texas so far behind that he would forget they’d ever existed.
But he didn’t. He was caught up in this mess whether he liked it or not. Someone had tried to kill Olivia Sealy today. They’d shot at her on the freeway. Her car had rolled end over end down an incline. Since she was still in surgery, it was unclear what the extent of her injuries or her prognosis might be, but his name was, once again, mentioned in conjunction with the case. If he left town, he might find himself running for the rest of his life. On the other hand, if he turned himself in, there was a real good chance he would never see daylight again. He didn’t know what the hell to do.
A police car went speeding by with sirens screaming. Out of habit, he ducked into a darkened alley, waiting until the car was well past before coming back out to the street. As he stood, a cab pulled in to the curb a few feet away to let off a passenger. On impulse, he grabbed the ride, gave the driver the address of his hotel and sat back. He still didn’t know what to do, but at least for tonight he could be confused in relative comfort and safety.
***
While Foster Lawrence was in his hotel room taking a shower, Trey and Marcus were still waiting for news of Olivia’s condition. Added to their worry was the fact that Anna Walden had yet to arrive. Marcus was concerned, but he wasn’t leaving again until he had word of Olivia’s condition. It had been three hours since they’d taken her into surgery, and the more time passed, the more worried they became.
Just when Trey thought he would go out of his mind, he heard a commotion at the end of the hall. He and Marcus both looked up just as a heavyset woman turned a corner on the run. She was stumbling and crying as she came.
“Oh dear,” Marcus said. “It’s Anna.”
He jumped up from his chair and hurried toward her, and in doing so, missed seeing the doctor appear at the other end of the hall.
But Trey saw him. He stood abruptly, very aware of the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. As badly as he wanted to know how Olivia was doing, he was almost afraid to hear the verdict.
“Are you a member of Olivia Sealy’s family?” the doctor asked.
“Yes,” Trey lied without hesitation, “but let me get her grandfather, too.” He hurried up the hall to where Marcus was standing. In his haste, he barely noticed the woman. “Marcus! The doctor is out of surgery and waiting to talk to us,” he said.
“Oh! Yes, of course,” Marcus said. “Come along, Anna. You’ll be wanting to hear this, too.”
“Oh Lord, oh Lord… my baby… my baby,” Anna moaned, and suddenly sagged against the wall.
Trey steadied her by one elbow while Marcus held the other, and together they managed to get her down the hall. Trey could see that she was upset and disoriented, then forgot about her behavior entirely as the doctor began to speak.
“Is this all of you?” the doctor asked.
“Yes, yes. Please,” Marcus begged, “is Olivia all right?”
“She came through the surgery beautifully. The bullet entered the back of her shoulder and nicked an artery. She must have been turning slightly away when the shot was fired. It exited just below her collarbone, barely missing her spinal cord… but it did miss it.”
Trey’s vision blurred. Unashamed of his tears, he listened intently, desperate for every word of her condition.
“Her other injuries are fairly mild. Thanks to her seat belt and the air bag, she didn’t suffer any broken bones. She has a mild concussion, but we were given to understand the vehicle she was in rolled several times, and that would be expected. However, she lost a lot of blood and received a transfusion during surgery.”
Marcus grimaced. “Will she need more? If so, I’d be happy to donate. We share the same blood type.”
“So would I,” Trey added, then asked, “What’s her blood type?”
“It’s a little unusual,” the doctor said. “A negative.”
Trey frowned. “I’m O positive.”
Anna came to herself suddenly, as if she’d only just arrived, and spoke with calm confidence.
“I can donate,” she said.
“What’s your blood type?” the doctor asked.
Confusion stirred, and Anna’s expression shifted.
“I don’t know… but I’m sure I can help. Olivia is my baby girl. I raised her, you know.”
Marcus patted Anna’s arm.
“Yes, you did, Anna dear, and I don’t know what we would have done without you.”
“But I want to donate blood, too,” she said.
Before it could become an issue, the doctor intervened.
“All of you are welcome to donate. We’re always in need.”
Suddenly Anna’s emotional confusion disappeared.
“So that’s that,” she said shortly. “My baby girl will be fine, then, won’t she?”
“Barring any unforeseen complications, she should be,” the doctor said.
“I want to see her,” Marcus said.
“I will go with you,” Anna stated, confident of her place in their family.
Trey felt left out. He desperately wanted to see her, too, but figured it wasn’t going to happen.
However, Marcus saw the look on Trey’s face and surprised himself, as well as Trey, when he said, “Detective Bonney will come, too. He’s a childhood friend of Olivia’s.”
Anna looked startled, and for the first time, eyed Trey curiously.
“You knew my baby?” Anna asked.
“Yes, ma’am, I did. We went to high school together.”
Anna frowned thoughtfully, but didn’t comment.
“Can we see her now?” Trey asked.
“She’s still in recovery,” the doctor said. “Why don’t we go see about those blood donations. By the time you’re all done, she should be in her room.”
“I need to make a phone call,” Trey said. “I’ll catch up with you.”
They went one way as Trey went the other. He made a quick call back to Chia.
“Chia, it’s Trey. Did you get the tape?”
“Yes. We got a couple of good views of the man’s face. No one at the station knew who he was, but I’m running him through the database now.”
“If you get a location on him, let me know. I want to be there when you bust him.”
Chia frowned. “You got some kind of investment in this case that I don’t know about?”
>
“It’s personal,” Trey muttered.
“As in… woman personal?” she asked.
“Just keep me posted,” Trey said, and disconnected.
8
“Olivia! Olivia! Wake up, dear. Your surgery is over. I need you to open your eyes. Can you hear me? I need you to open your eyes.”
Olivia moaned.
“Hurts.”
“I know it hurts. I’m so sorry. The doctor has given you something for pain. It will kick in soon. Meanwhile, we’ll get you some warm blankets. How will that be?”
She moaned again and tried to open her eyes. There was something she needed to remember, but the thought wouldn’t come. While she was struggling to concentrate, the warm blankets arrived. She felt their weight, then the heat, and gave in to the comfort of unconsciousness.
***
“Is she awake? I need to talk to my baby.”
Olivia reached toward the sound. Nanna? That sounded like Nanna.
“Olivia, darling, it’s Grampy. We’re here for you, darling. Don’t worry about a thing. You’re going to be fine.”
Grampy. That was Grampy. Why are Nanna and Grampy in my bedroom?
She tried to answer, but her mouth was so dry. She licked her lips, then moaned.
“Hurt…”
Someone touched her hand, then her forehead. She felt the warmth of breath near her cheek.
“I know, Livvie. I’m sorry.”
Trey… is that you?
He answered, almost as if he’d read her mind. “It’s me, Trey.”
The image of a man pointing a gun at her face jumped into Olivia’s mind so quickly that she flinched. The motion caused such pain that tears poured out from beneath her eyelids.
“Trey… hurts,” she whispered.
Trey had never felt so helpless in his life. He wanted to hold her, protect her, take away the pain—and all he could do was mumble platitudes that solved nothing.
“I know, honey. I’m so sorry, but the doctor said you’re going to be fine.”
Fine. He said she was going to be fine. The knowledge was comforting. Trey didn’t lie. Then she remembered, Trey was a cop. She needed to tell him that she’d been shot.
