by Jason Dean
THREE
When Lisa Philmore saw Bishop come through the door, she got up from her seat and walked over. Above the baggy sweatshirt and jeans, her mouth was set in a straight line and her jaw was clenched. Once again, Bishop was amazed by the physical resemblance to her mother. Same long blond hair. Same perfect bone structure. And those piercing, hazel eyes. Another few years and the boys would be falling at her feet.
Jesus, thirteen already. Where did the time go?
Lisa reached Bishop, placed her hands on her hips, and said, ‘So you got here, then.’
‘Well, we’re family, aren’t we? Where else would I be? And what happened to “Hey, James, it’s good to see you”?’
‘Maybe it isn’t good to see you. You ever think of that? Or maybe it’s been so long I hardly recognize you any more.’
Bishop saw her father watching them from across the room, with Lisa’s eight-year-old brother, Patrick, fast asleep on the chair next to him. Bishop had actually expected them to be in the emergency waiting room, but the receptionist had said Amy had been transferred to Intensive Care an hour before. That could only be promising. He hoped. It was now 07.14. Bishop had made the trip back from Pennsylvania in just under five hours. Most of it over the speed limit. After dropping the SUV back at the rental place on West 83rd, he’d taken the 1 train to the 215th Street stop and walked the rest of the way to Allerdyne Hospital.
And now this welcome. Bishop sighed and said, ‘Why the attitude, Lisa? I do something to offend you?’
‘More like what you didn’t do. Yeah, we’re family all right, but only when it suits you. I mean, Mom gets attacked last night and where were you? Off doing whatever it is you do, I expect, while your own sis needs you here. Well, you’re a little late, James. We can handle things fine by ourselves now, thanks.’
‘Look, Lisa, I was in Pennsylvania, working. I got here as fast as I could when I heard. But even if I was in town I would have had no control over what happened to your mom last night. You must realize that.’
She snorted. ‘Sure. If it makes you feel better, why not?’ Lisa turned and walked back to her father and brother and sat back down. Simply dismissed him. Just like that.
Bishop only had himself to blame. She was overreacting, sure, but it had been too long since his last visit. Amy kept pressuring him to come over, but he always seemed to find excuses not to. And even when he did, it was just a fleeting visit. He wasn’t sure why.
He walked over and took the free seat next to the sleeping Patrick. There were plenty of visitors in the waiting room, but Gerry had managed to find a little nook of chairs slightly separate from the others. Bishop noticed dark bags under his brother-in-law’s eyes and his thin hair was in disarray. He looked devastated, which was understandable. Bishop and he had never really clicked, but Bishop knew the man was devoted to Amy and the kids. One of the few plus signs against his character.
‘Hello, Bishop,’ he said. ‘So nice of you to make the effort.’
Bishop ignored the veiled jibe and slowly rubbed a palm back and forth over his scalp. One of the many minuses against Gerry’s character was his habit of always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. It seemed he just couldn’t help himself. Maybe that’s why they didn’t get along. In fact, no maybe about it.
‘So update me on Amy’s condition,’ Bishop said.
Gerry gave a sigh. ‘She’s out of ER, but she’s still not out of danger. The doctors have stabilized her as best they can, but it’s still touch and go. She’d already lost a lot of blood from the two abdominal stab wounds and there was a lot of internal damage. They had to remove her spleen altogether. Dr Meeker said they only just missed the aorta, which would have been fatal. He also told me they had to do a partial hepatectomy on the left lobe of her liver when it starting haemorrhaging. They’ve managed to save her left lung, but her breathing’s still unsteady. They’ve got her on a ventilator now.’
Bishop briefly closed his eyes. He hadn’t realized Amy’s condition was this grave. Gerry hadn’t been able to tell him much over the phone. Or maybe he’d simply held back the news out of spite. Bishop wouldn’t put it past him.
‘But if she’s no longer in the ER, that means she’s out of immediate danger, right?’
Rubbing his forehead, Gerry said, ‘Amy’s in a coma, Bishop. The surgeons found plenty of swelling in her skull where they beat her. This Meeker said they relieved some of the pressure, but there are still a lot of complications to deal with. Some of Amy’s motor responses are still working – she withdraws from painful stimuli, for instance – but that’s all they’ve gotten from her so far. The doctor warned me she might not . . .’
He stopped and turned away. Lisa was staring at the floor, trying to look brave. Bishop looked down at Patrick’s sleeping form and gently ruffled the boy’s hair, waiting for Gerry to collect himself.
Bishop knew the man had been having a rough time of it, even before all this. A year before, Gerry had been the account director of a small but rapidly growing advertising agency just off Madison Avenue. According to Amy, he’d been very good at his job, and after years of penny-pinching his boss had finally started paying him a salary that reflected his hard work. The future had looked good. But that all came to an end one night when he was tasked with entertaining the top executives of the agency’s largest account, a major dental hygiene company. It seems Gerry got a little too drunk and made an off-colour comment concerning the CEO’s wife and the use of Botox injections. The CEO immediately made it clear to Gerry’s boss that if Gerry wasn’t fired, he’d take his firm’s business elsewhere. Naturally, Gerry was handed his cards the next day. And with the exception of a few temp jobs here and there, he’d been effectively unemployed ever since.
After a few moments, Bishop said, ‘If she’s made it this far, she’ll make it the rest of the way. You know Amy as well as I do. You need to believe in her will to survive.’
‘That’s what I said,’ Lisa said, looking at the floor. ‘Mom’s tougher than anybody.’
‘Tougher than me,’ Bishop said, ‘that’s for sure. Always has been, and if you ever tell her I said that, I’ll deny everything.’
Lisa didn’t smile at the weak joke. She just kept staring at the floor.
Bishop turned to Gerry and said, ‘Let’s you and I get a coffee, huh?’
Gerry shrugged, got up and rubbed some circulation back into his legs. Lisa moved into his seat and put her arm around her brother’s shoulders, purposely ignoring Bishop as he led her father outside.
The third-floor corridor was long and wide, with hospital staff coming and going, and the occasional patient wandering about. They headed straight for the two vending machines halfway down that Bishop had noticed on the way in. Bishop reached them first and pulled some change from his pants pocket. ‘The coffee any good here?’
‘Haven’t tried it,’ Gerry said. ‘Probably not.’
Bishop put money in the slot and got them a lukewarm cup of brown liquid each. He leaned against the wall and said, ‘I assume Amy’s got medical insurance?’
Gerry nodded. ‘Yeah, her and the kids. Her company’s pretty good with that.’
‘Well, that’s something. So tell me, what did you leave out on the phone?’
Gerry took a sip of his drink and looked at the wall. ‘From the footprints at the scene, the police figure there were three muggers.’
‘Yeah, I figured Amy could have handled one by herself.’
‘And they raped her. The bastards raped my Amy. Robbing her and beating the shit out of her wasn’t enough for them, Bishop. They had to have their fun, too. Then they stabbed her a few times afterwards for good measure. The sick bastards.’
Bishop slowly relaxed his grip on the plastic cup and frowned at the coffee that had just spilled on his hand. He’d half suspected it, but hoped he was wrong. After all, Amy was a very beautiful woman. Not that that would matter to the kind of pond scum who’d do this. They wouldn’t give a damn what their victim l
ooked like. To them, she was just a body. Bishop took a sip of the tasteless coffee and warned himself to stay in control. When it was family it was almost impossible, but allowing his emotions to get the better of him wouldn’t solve anything here. If he was going to find whoever did this, he needed to be objective. On the drive over, he’d whittled his anger down until it was a small, cold, hard thing in the pit of his stomach. And he’d have to keep it that way if he wanted to operate free of distractions.
‘I’m surprised a cop would give out details like that,’ he said. ‘Especially to a victim’s husband.’
‘They didn’t. I got it from one of the paramedics after slipping him an extra twenty. Afterwards I wished I hadn’t.’
Bishop raised an eyebrow. Getting the information straight from the source was exactly the kind of thing Bishop would have done. He was surprised Gerry had thought of it.
‘And what else did this paramedic tell you?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, was Amy still conscious at the scene, for example? And if she was, did she say anything in the ambulance? Was she able to identify her attackers?’
Gerry looked down into his cup and said, ‘No, nothing like that. Just what I told you.’
‘So have the cops interviewed you yet?’
‘A couple of hours ago. A Detective Medrano came and filled me in on what they found at the scene, which wasn’t much. The marks on the ground that showed three men were involved. He also showed me some crime scene photos so I could identify the missing items from her personal belongings.’
‘And what was missing?’
‘What difference does it make to you?’
Bishop sighed. It sure didn’t take long for the guy to return to form. ‘It might make all the difference,’ he said. ‘And I’m her brother.’
‘Yeah, and what a great brother you are, too. When exactly was the last time you came to visit Amy? Nine months ago? A year? And don’t get me started on the kids. Pat still gets nervous around you, and Lisa barely knows who you are any more.’
Bishop knew the reason he didn’t come visiting too often was standing right in front of him. Sometimes Amy really puzzled him. He knew she had a good head on her shoulders, so what had she ever seen in Gerry? Bishop had tried to figure it out over the years, but he still came up with nothing.
‘I didn’t come here to discuss my failings with you, Gerry,’ he said. ‘Now are you gonna tell me what was missing or not?’
Gerry rolled his eyes and said, ‘Her wallet was gone, okay? Her Rolex, too. Also her cell phone, a lipstick stun gun, and her keys with one of those keychain alarms attached.’
‘An alarm? Did she have time to set it off?’
‘That’s what got the police involved. This Medrano said somebody reported hearing what sounded like an emergency alarm in the park area and called 911. But mostly he just kept asking me questions, like what was Amy doing out in the park at that time of night, did she have any enemies, and stuff like that. He also said he’d be back to see me later.’
‘And what was Amy doing there? Doesn’t she usually take the subway home?’
‘Sure, every day. Usually the 1 train.’
‘In which case, the nearest stop to your apartment would be 191st Street, right?’
‘That’s right.’
‘So what was she doing walking along Fort George Hill? That’s in the opposite direction.’
‘Sometimes she gets off at the Dyckman Street stop. She says that walk uphill keeps her in shape.’
‘Really? At that time of night?’
Gerry sighed. ‘Look, all I know is Amy called me earlier to say she’d be very late, okay? She said she had a lot of things she wanted to get done at work. I was at home working on a job application. After I’d seen the kids to bed, I kept working and didn’t even realize the time until it was too late. Next thing I know the cops are on the phone and telling me to get down to the hospital, pronto. And here I am. And here you are.’
‘Have they let you go in and see her yet?’
Gerry shook his head. ‘They said in a couple hours, once they’re sure she’s stabilized.’
‘So is anybody in there with her now?’
‘I don’t know. Why?’
Because that’s my next stop, Bishop thought.
FOUR
Bishop knew Amy was in room 32 on the east side of the building. The helpful receptionist had told him when she’d made out his visitor’s ID badge. Bishop followed the corridor down that part of the building, checking room numbers. He passed a number of beam-mounted plastic seats situated along the corridor at thirty-foot intervals. They looked uncomfortable. All were empty. He noticed a security camera affixed to the ceiling a few yards away, pointing away from him. He calculated room 32 was about twenty feet up ahead on the right.
Bishop slowed his pace as he got closer. There was a northbound corridor further down on the left, about fifty feet away. He could also make out part of a nurses’ station down there, but since most of it was hidden from view he had no idea if anybody was on duty. Bishop walked straight over to the door to 32 and looked through the glass panel. Apart from the patient on the bed, he saw nobody else inside. He pushed the door open and went in.
For a brief moment, as he gently clicked the door shut behind him, Bishop thought he had the wrong room. The patient sure didn’t look like his sister. But as he moved closer, he began to make out details and saw it really was Amy after all.
She lay on the bed with her arms atop the sheets. A single IV line was attached to each arm. Her face was a map of contusions and swellings. Bandages covered part of her scalp, and her blond hair looked dark, damp and lifeless. She had an oxygen mask affixed to her nose and mouth, through which he could hear the sounds of her breathing. The mask was connected to a complicated-looking ventilator machine next to the bed that emitted a steady electronic beeping sound every two seconds. On the other side of the bed, two more monitors made their own unique electronic sounds.
Bishop found he was unconsciously matching Amy’s breathing rhythm and stopped himself. He pulled the room’s only chair from against the wall and placed it next to her bed, kissed her on the cheek and sat down. He reached out and clasped her left hand. The skin was warm, but the hand felt like a dead weight.
Bishop gave a long, slow exhalation and looked at his sister’s face. He sure didn’t feel too good about himself right now. Lisa’s barbed comments hadn’t helped. And the things she’d said had hit home in a way she couldn’t possibly have anticipated. Because Amy had actually tried to contact Bishop a couple of weeks before and he hadn’t gotten back to her. She’d left two voicemail messages, asking him to call her when he had a chance. And he hadn’t.
Why? Because he’d been too busy with the Foland job. At least, that was the excuse he’d given himself at the time. But, really, how much time would it have taken to make one simple phone call? None at all, that’s how much. And now it was too late.
Christ, what an idiot.
Bishop thought back to the last time he’d actually seen Amy in person. Gerry had still been at the ad agency, so it would have been over a year ago. It had been a weekday evening. Possibly a Monday. It had been an impromptu visit while he was in town. Bishop still remembered Amy’s look of surprise and delight upon opening the door and seeing her brother standing there. They’d spent the next couple of hours catching up as she prepared the evening meal, and once Gerry came back from work they all sat down to eat. He still remembered what it was: fusilli, with roasted tomatoes and fresh asparagus. Naturally, it had been delicious. But then Amy had always been a great cook.
And he also remembered the evening turning celebratory when Lisa informed everyone she’d won first prize in an art contest at school that very day. Which indicated she’d inherited the creative gene from her mother’s side, since Amy had always enjoyed painting as a kid. Amy had never looked prouder of her daughter than that night. She’d even allowed Lisa to have a small glass of win
e with her meal.
It had been a happy evening all round. Even Gerry had been bearable for the most part. Amy had started urging Bishop to stay the night in the spare room, but he knew Gerry would start sniping after a few more glasses of wine. So he’d begged off and left early to avoid any unpleasantness. Now he wished he hadn’t.
Amy, he thought, squeezing her hand, why did it have to be you? If anybody deserves violence in their life, it’s me. But what did you ever do to anybody?
His thoughts went back further. Back to when it was just the two of them against the world. Back to the moment twenty-eight years before when they learned of the car accident that had claimed the lives of their folks.
Bishop remembered it as if it was yesterday. He’d been ten at the time. That very day, in fact. Amy had only been sixteen herself. A couple of uniforms from the Staten Island Police Department had shown up at the door to deliver the bad news to her. Once they’d finally gone, Amy had taken Bishop’s hand and sat him down at the kitchen table. He knew something was badly wrong when he saw her moist, puffy eyes. He’d never seen Amy cry before and it scared him. But somehow she managed to hold herself together for his sake.
‘Where’s Mom and Dad?’ he asked her. ‘Who were those guys at the door? Why are you crying, Amy? What’s going on?’
‘They were policemen, kiddo,’ she said, sniffing. ‘And they just gave me some very very bad news. Look, I’m gonna need you to be strong for me, okay?’
He just stared at her. ‘It’s about Mom and Dad, isn’t it?’
She wiped her nose with a tissue and nodded. ‘’Fraid so. See, there was a pile-up on the New Jersey Turnpike tonight, because of the fog. It was a big one involving lots of vehicles. And Mom and Dad were . . . well, they were right in the middle of it.’
‘Were they hurt bad?’
‘Very bad, kiddo. They’re both . . . well, they won’t be coming back.’
‘You mean they’re dead?’
She just nodded at that point, unable to speak further, and then the torrent of tears came. And that finally made it real for Bishop. His parents really were gone forever. If Amy said it was so, then it was a fact. Bishop didn’t remember much else except clutching his sister and crying silently with her for what seemed like hours, although it was probably more like fifteen or twenty minutes. Amy just held him close and comforted him until no more tears would come. He didn’t know it at the time, but he’d never cry again. Nor would he celebrate another birthday.
