“No one’s been able to tell us what happened,” the woman said upon releasing Angie from the tight hold. “We keep getting passed from one doctor to the next. I’m going crazy not knowing.”
Angie flapped her arms at her sides. “I’m afraid I won’t be any more helpful about Boot—I mean Zachary’s condition.”
“How did it happen?” Mrs. Andrews pressed. “No one is telling us anything except that he was injured on duty.”
Angie nodded tightly. “Officer Andrews—your son—and I were responding to a call. Domestic disturbance. When we approached the residence in question, Andrews spotted someone running from the premise. He followed in pursuit.”
I thought about Angie’s words from the bar. Slow down, Boot. Take your time.
Officer Andrews’ reaction was what generally set police officers apart from the general population. Someone runs, and you want to give chase. That’s not always the smart decision though. When you come to confront a complaint, you can never quite be sure what you might find. Even a call as seemingly self-explanatory as a domestic disturbance can turn out to be something else altogether.
“The individual fleeing the scene had a knife, which he turned on Officer Andrews,” Angie continued. “By the time I caught up, the runner was gone and Andrews was on the ground, hurt. I called for backup and an ambulance right away.”
Mrs. Andrews reached for Angie again, but her hand stopped mid-air as though she wanted another hug, but thought better of it. Instead, she folded her arms across her chest and hugged herself. “Thank you, Officer Johnson.”
We sat with Officer Andrews’ family in the waiting room. In that short time I came to the conclusion that few places are tenser than the waiting room of a hospital’s surgery wing. I could see clearly the anticipation on people’s faces when hospital staff walked out to the lobby area. You both hoped and dreaded that this was your doctor and he or she finally had information about your loved one. The longer we sat without word on Andrews’ condition, the more I began to feel what I could only imagine his family was experiencing.
Finally, it was our time. A doctor in pale blue scrubs, close to the color of our police uniform shirts walked purposefully to where we waited. Her surgical mask hung around her neck, and she held her cap in her hand, revealing auburn-colored hair pulled back in a tight bun.
“He’s stable,” she told us. “He’s going to be okay.”
The group collectively released a breath.
“He’s being transported from surgery to a private patient room where we’d like to keep him for observation for a few days, just to make sure he takes it easy and doesn’t dislodge any of his internal sutures.”
Mrs. Andrews’ question rose above the sounds of relief. “Can we see him?”
The doctor nodded. “Of course. You can follow me. You’ll have to keep it brief so he can get his rest. That’s the best medicine right now.”
Officer Andrews’ relatives shuffled to their feet and began to follow the doctor. I started to follow as well until I realized my services were probably no longer needed. I’d pushed aside my aversion to hospitals to support Angie, but I’d be over-staying my welcome if I remained longer. This was a time for family and people closest to Officer Andrews. I’d never even met the man.
“Hey,” I whispered to my friend. “I think I’m gonna head out. Are you good?”
“Yeah. You can go.” There were tears in the corners of Angie’s eyes. “Thank you for coming with me, Cassidy. I owe you one.”
I tried to slip away as silently and unobtrusively as possible from the group, but in the process of being stealthy, I got a little turned around. All of the hallways and doors looked identical to me. I stopped at the next nurse’s station I found to ask for directions.
An exhausted-looking woman in light blue scrubs dumped a stack of papers onto the nurse’s station. “Get a load of this,” she told her co-workers. “The princess in 107 doesn’t want tap water. She asked for sparkling water instead.”
The nurses gathered around the central desk erupted in laughter.
Sparkling water? What were the odds?
I cleared my throat and four sets of eyes landed on me. “Is that Victoria LeVitre in there?”
The woman who’d previously spoken stared me down. “Are you family?”
“No, uh, a f-friend,” I stumbled on the lie. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help overhearing. Is she okay?”
“She’s in 107.” She waved a hand down the hallway. “It’s just around that corner.”
I realized they probably expected me to visit her, since I was a ‘friend.’
I nodded and smiled tightly. “Right. Thank you.”
I exhaled noisily and headed for room 107 instead of the closest exit.
I peered through the glass-window cutout at Victoria LeVitre. She looked nearly unrecognizable without her makeup and fancy clothes. Her skin was pale. An IV attached to her left arm provided her with fluids. She had been placed in a private room, but it was far from the luxuries she was probably accustomed to. The blinds were drawn, allowing in a limited amount of natural light. Daytime soap operas played on a small television mounted on the wall. A yellowing plastic tray of untouched food sat on a nearby table.
When I entered the room, she didn’t bother looking away from the TV. “We were supposed to have a meeting today,” I said as I announced my arrival. “It’s not polite to stand a girl up.”
“Remind me to send flowers to apologize,” she quipped back. With effort, she pulled herself higher up on the pillows propped behind her back. She visibly winced in pain as she moved. “How did you find me? Tracker on my phone?”
“Nothing so exciting. Just dumb coincidence.” I pulled up a nearby chair to sit beside her bed. “What happened?”
“I have no idea. I’ve been feeling a little under the weather the past few days, but it got really bad this morning. Like my stomach was on fire or something.”
“What are you doing in St. Paul?” I asked. “Why didn’t you go to the hospital in Eden Prairie?”
“I was shopping downtown when it happened. I didn’t think I could make it back to the suburbs.”
“What do the doctors think?”
“Oh, they’re useless.” She picked at the pilling white cotton sheet that covered her lap. It was clearly not Egyptian cotton. “They’ve poked and pricked and prodded me all day, but the tests have come back negative. They probably think I’m faking it for attention.”
“Are you?”
She snapped her head up to meet my gaze. “Of course not.”
“Where’s your husband?” I looked around the empty room as if expecting to see him hiding in a corner.
“At work.”
“Do you need someone to call him?”
“No. A friend is coming to check on me later.”
“A friend?” I echoed.
“Not a girlfriend, if that’s what you’re insinuating,” she huffed. “Just a neighbor friend.”
“I wasn’t suggesting anything,” I assured her. “I just know when I’m not feeling my best, I want to surround myself with loved ones.”
She harrumphed again, and this time I was smart enough not to push back.
“Why did you want to see me today?” It wasn’t the most ideal location for a meeting, but it wasn’t as though she had anything else to do.
“Well I wouldn’t have bothered if I’d known you were going to harass me so viciously,” she shot.
I stood from the hard plastic chair. “We can reschedule our conversation for when you’re feeling better,” I decided.
She swiveled her head in my direction. Her eyes had grown wide with alarm. “You’re leaving? Already?”
I scratched at the back of my neck. “Can’t waste the tax payer’s money hanging out in hospitals.” It was an excuse I’d often used to get out of uncomfortable situations, generally when in the company of Julia.
Mrs. LeVitre looked cross and folded her arms over her chest while I let
myself out. I’d spent enough time in hospitals for one day.
I gave Sarah a call once I reached the hospital parking lot. I felt bad for running out like that, but the S.O.S. text wasn’t something used lightly. It demanded an immediate response.
“Victoria LeVitre’s in the hospital,” I announced when she answered the phone.
“What? Where are you?”
“Regions Hospital in St. Paul. I just saw her.”
“Is that why you ran out?”
“No. That was … something else.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“The doctors aren’t sure. They’ve done a few tests, but everything looks clean so far.”
“What are her symptoms?” she asked.
“Are you a doctor?” I laughed.
I could practically hear her roll her eyes. “It’s called Web, M.D.”
“Stomach pain. That’s all I know. I didn’t stick around to read her charts.”
“You coming back to the office?”
“Why? Missing me already?”
“Of course. Who am I going to convince to steal taxidermy for me?”
“I’m sure Stanley could be persuaded.”
“Stanley never talks to me. I don’t think he likes me.”
“He’s probably afraid of you,” I chuckled.
“What about you, Detective? Are you afraid of me?”
“Terrified,” I confirmed.
Sarah laughed. “I’ll see you back at the office.”
I felt lighter once I got off the phone with Sarah, but the easiness soon dissipated. I stopped walking towards the parking structure when I realized I didn’t have a vehicle to walk to. I’d driven Angie’s car to the hospital for her. My motorcycle was back in the parking lot of the cop bar.
“Fuck.”
I changed course and slumped on an empty bench at the hospital’s bus stop to wait for the next bus. Luckily I already had a Metro card; I had to take public transportation when the weather didn’t agree with riding my bike.
As I sat alone at the hospital bus stop, cursing that day’s bad luck, it didn’t escape my notice that Julia’s apartment was practically across the street. Even though we weren’t speaking, she was never far from my thoughts.
The temptation was too great; I wanted to walk by if only to see if her car was in its parking space. But she had asked for space and time, and as much as I hated being apart, I needed to respect her wishes.
+ + +
“Botulism, right?”
I stopped just inside the doorway of the cold case office. “What’d you call me?”
Sarah tapped a manicured fingernail against her computer monitor. “Vertigo, dry mouth, exhaustion, abdominal cramping,” she read off the screen. “Loss of sensation. Did Mrs. LeVitre complain of limb weakness?”
I still didn’t know what Sarah was talking about. I felt under siege. “What are you ranting about?”
“Web, M.D. It’s all the symptoms for botulinum toxin.”
“Wait. You think Victoria LeVitre was poisoned like her girlfriend was?”
“It’s worth a shot, right?”
“I don’t even know how they’d test for that.”
“You’re not supposed to. But I bet her doctor would.”
“Limb weakness,” I repeated, thinking aloud. “I suppose I can call the hospital and ask.”
Sarah spun around in her office chair, looking particularly pleased with herself. “So are you gonna get me something special if I’m right?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“I dunno. Nothing says ‘Thank You’ like a taxidermy chipmunk.”
+ + +
When I returned to my apartment at the end of the workday, the silence was deafening. I turned on the TV, but paid no attention to the channel. All I wanted was noise so I didn’t feel so alone. I had never minded the solitude and silence before. In fact, I’d enjoyed it after the lack of privacy that came from being in the armed forces.
Julia’s plant was perched near a window atop a silent radiator. It had perked up since I’d watered it before my trip to St. Cloud with Sarah, yet it still showed signs of ill-health, visibly weaker than when Julia had first gifted me the hardy spider plant when I’d first arrived in Embarrass. The plant had served as a proverbial olive branch. Julia and I had once only suffered a purely physical relationship. The gifting of the plant had opened the door to more.
I grabbed the potted plant and a beer from the fridge before flopping onto the living room couch. I lay on my back while the plant sat in the hollow of my ribcage, a poor substitute for a pet, and an even worse replacement for Julia. I cradled my silent cell phone in one hand. I couldn’t call or text or drop by Julia’s unannounced. I didn’t want to unduly pressure her, but I missed her terribly. She was the one person I always wanted to talk to, rain or shine.
I scrolled through the limited contacts in my phone. I could normally ring up Angie, but she was dealing with her own drama that day. I had never really emotionally connected with either Brent or Adan, and I was too new to the Cold Case team to confide in any of them. I wasn’t really speaking to either of my parents, and I had little family connections beyond them.
I pressed the call button when I reached the bottom of my contacts list.
The phone rang several times. “Hello?”
“Rich? Hey.”
“Hey, Cass,” my friend greeted. “What’s up? How’s Angie doing?”
“She’s good. And her Rookie is going to be okay, too.”
I heard a burst of laughter in the background.
“Not a good time?” I asked.
“Gracie’s in town for the long weekend.”
“Gracie, eh?” I echoed. “That’s a cute nickname. What does she call you?”
“Shut up,” he laughed. He sounded so light, so carefree.
“I’ll catch you another time,” I decided. “Don’t wanna interrupt.”
“Are you sure? Is something up?”
“No, buddy. I’m good. Just wanted to say hi.”
I ended the call with Grace Kelly’s joyful laughter reverberating in my ears. I laid back on a throw pillow and ignored the tears that leaked from the corners of my eyes. I let gravity do its job as my sorrow trickled down my cheeks.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Hey, Stanley,” I greeted my colleague as I slumped into the cold case office the next day. “What’s shaking?”
Between my trip to St. Cloud and then to Fargo and the time he babysat the evidence warehouse, I hadn’t seen Stanley in several days.
My colleague’s head popped up from behind his desktop computer like a prairie dog in the field. “Did you know Victoria LeVitre was in the hospital?”
“Uh huh,” I confirmed. “Long story—but I bumped into her yesterday at Regions Hospital in St. Paul. How’d you know she was there?”
“I got a call from the hospital this morning. They said toxicology came back with traces of Botulinum toxin?”
“You’re shitting me,” I exclaimed.
“I shit you not.” The curse sounded strange coming from him.
“Is she still at Regions?” I asked.
“Yes.” He put his hands on his hips. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“On the way to the hospital,” I agreed.
He reached for the set of keys on his workstation.
“No way,” I stopped him. “I’m driving.”
I caught Stanley up on the case on the drive to St. Paul. By the time we reached the hospital, he was salivating for an arrest. I knew how much this case meant to him, but it wasn’t that easy. Police work was more complicated than showing up at a suspect’s house and arresting them—it was often tediously slow with one complicated form after the next. Although we probably had enough to arrest Dr. Stephen LeVitre on probable cause, the District Attorney’s office would require we build the case on more than circumstantial evidence. If Mrs. LeVitre had been poisoned, we’d need to trace the toxin b
ack to her husband.
I led Stanley to room 107 at Regions for my second visit in so many days. A quick peek through the window cutout revealed Mrs. LeVitre hadn’t been moved to a new location. She remained in bed, alone in the room, watching daytime television.
A man in a white doctor’s coat approached me before I could enter the room. “Are you family?”
“No. Police.” I pointed to the badge that hung on my belt.
“Detective Miller?”
“Yeah.” I was surprised he knew my name.
“When the toxicology came back, Mrs. LeVitre told us to contact your office,” he answered my unstated question.
“This is my colleague, Stanley Harris,” I introduced my partner.
“I’ve never seen anything like it before,” the doctor said, shaking his head. “The botulinum neurotoxin is one of the most potent, lethal substances known. It’s even considered a potential biological weapon.”
“And yet we pump it into our faces,” I wryly noted.
“Mrs. LeVitre should consider herself a very lucky lady,” the doctor stated. “If we hadn’t specifically been looking for botulism, we never would have found it.”
“It wouldn’t have come up on any of your routine tests,” Stanley observed. “It’s a very specific test, specific to the toxin.”
The doctor nodded gravely. “Like I said, she’s very lucky. If left untreated, it could possibly have killed her. Paralyzed her, at the least.”
I would probably have to share that information with Sarah. Her hunch had probably saved a woman’s life. And now I owed her a taxidermy rodent.
Damn it.
“Would you be able to send the labs to our office, Doctor?” Stanley asked. “It will help immensely with the case we’re assembling.”
“I’ll have them faxed over right away.”
I gestured to the door. “Is it okay if we see the patient?”
“Of course. We’ve administered the anti-toxin, so she’ll be in the clear soon. We’ll probably keep her here for observation for a few more days just to make sure the toxin has been flushed from her system.”
Cold Blooded Lover Page 18
