Picture Me Dead

by Heather Graham

  “He’s homicide. My friend isn’t dead. Yet,” she added softly.

  “He knows his stuff,” Curtis said. “And he’s respected in the department. You are still in the academy. You try calling someone, they may just give you a line. Dilessio calls a fellow officer, he’ll talk away.”

  Ashley hesitated for a moment. Dilessio was a jerk, and he obviously didn’t like her. But, then, this wasn’t about her. This was about Stuart.

  “Maybe you’re right,” she said. “Okay, wish me luck with the ogre.”

  Curtis gave her a thumbs-up.

  She took the coffeepot and headed outside. Jake Dilessio was still reading his files. He didn’t look up as she refilled his cup, just murmured, “Thanks.”

  She stood there, then slid into the seat opposite him, forcing him to look up.

  “I understand you’re in homicide.”

  “Yes.” He looked back at his files.

  She cleared her throat. After a second, he looked up again. She plunged in.

  “There was an accident on Friday morning, right after I left here. I drove by it right after it occurred. A pedestrian was struck on I-95. I saw him lying on the highway. He was wearing underwear, and that was it. This morning I read the article on what had happened. It turns out that he was an old friend of mine. The article says he was high on heroin. I knew Stuart too well to believe he did that to himself. He fainted at the sight of a needle.”

  She had his attention, at least. He was staring at her, eyes dark and brooding.

  “I’m homicide, Ashley. Your friend was the victim of a traffic accident—apparently, he was the cause of the accident. I remember seeing something about it. The guys investigating it are good, I’m certain. And just because this guy was afraid of needles once, that doesn’t mean he didn’t get into drugs later.”

  “I know there’s something really wrong with this picture,” she insisted.

  “You think you know—because this man was your friend.” He didn’t speak cruelly, just matter-of-factly.

  She shook her head. “Where did he come from? He must have come from somewhere to start walking across the highway in his underwear.”

  “Ashley, I’ve been a cop a long time, in homicide a long time. On one of my first cases, a couple got high on cocaine and heroin together. They thought they had put their infant to bed. But they set the baby in their microwave and cooked it. Finding what was left of that little corpse is one picture that will stay in my mind all my life, no matter how many cases I work. If your friend even began to get into drugs, he could have gotten hooked badly and done almost anything.”

  She was going to get the same reaction, no matter what. And it was incredibly irritating that everyone jumped to assumptions so quickly.

  “Why is it so easy for everyone just to accept what should be the same sad story but may not be? I know Stuart. He didn’t slip into drugs. There’s something very wrong with what seems to be the obvious explanation. I’ve been told you’re a respected detective. I thought you’d be interested in the truth.”

  She saw his fingers tighten on the papers he held, his only visible reaction. “You’re in the academy. You know the size and scope of the county, and what goes on every day. I’m homicide. And right now, I have a full plate in front of me. I’m sorry, but even if I wanted to, there wouldn’t be any difference I could make. There are already people working the investigation. If you’ll excuse me, I’m working, too. On a truly brutal murder.”

  Dismissed again, she stood. “Yes, of course. I’ve been told how very important you are. Thanks for your time.”

  So much for assistance from the great and esteemed Jake Dilessio, she thought.

  A few minutes later, she had her purse and keys and was on her way to see how Stuart was doing.

  Stuart was at the county hospital, a place where the emergency room could be a zoo, where you could wait endless hours for assistance, but where the quality of care was top-notch. Ashley knew that if she were ever seriously wounded, it was where she would want to go.

  A volunteer sent her up to the intensive care waiting room.

  There were several people there. A young man about her own age with his face behind a newspaper, an Hispanic couple, holding hands and whispering softly to one another, a handsome, thirty-something black woman with a toddler in her arms, walking back and forth. There was another young woman who stared straight ahead at whatever was on the television, and a man who might have been about thirty, working on a notebook computer. Stuart’s parents were seated together, staring into space, looking like a pair of lost children. In their mid-fifties, they were a handsome couple. Lucy Fresia had always been considered one of the most attractive mothers among their group, but now her delicate features looked pinched, and her appearance was that of a far older woman. Nathan Fresia was a tall man, nearly six-three, appearing even taller because he was slender, as well. Like Lucy, his appearance was worn and broken, and it seemed as if thirty years had gone by since she had seen him, rather than the two or three that it had really been.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Fresia?” she called softly. Lucy’s head jerked up, as if she was terrified that a doctor was coming in to give her bad news. She stared blankly at Ashley for a long moment, then jumped to her feet, recognizing her.

  “Ashley Montague,” she said, and a hesitant smile lit her features. Then she burst into tears, stretching her arms out. “Oh, Ashley!”

  Ashley hurried forward, embracing the tiny woman. She felt Lucy’s body shaking with the force of her tears. But then Lucy drew away, trying to wipe her eyes. “Nathan, look who’s here. It’s Ashley.”

  “Young lady, it’s good to see you.” Nathan bent to offer her a warm, endearing hug, as well. He didn’t sob as his wife did, but his cheeks were wet.

  “Stuart is…hanging in there, right?”

  “Oh, yes,” Lucy said. She glanced at her husband. “The doctors say he’s incredible. He must have a tremendous will to survive. The nurses are in there with him now. That’s why we’re both out here. We never leave him alone, not for a minute. They say that we should talk to him, so of course we do. I even brought his old copy of Green Eggs and Ham and read it to him. He loved that book as a kid. He always said he’d read it to his own kids one day, the way we always read it to him.” Her eyes filled with tears again.

  “Lucy, he may still be reading that book to his kids,” Ashley said softly.

  “Ashley, you know that Stuart is in a coma, right?” Nathan said worriedly. “Only his mother and I are allowed in—”

  “We could tell them that Ashley is family,” Lucy said.

  “It’s okay. If he gets a little bit better, we can think of a way for me to get in to see him,” Ashley said.

  “But you’ve come all this way,” Lucy said.

  “Actually, it’s not far for me at all, and I really came to see the two of you. My uncle called the hospital for me today, so I knew I couldn’t get in to see Stuart.”

  Lucy wiped her cheeks, smiling slowly. “You came to see the two of us? That’s so sweet, Ashley.”

  Ashley smiled. “Do you know how many times you had me to dinner? How many snacks you made me, and how many times you took me trick-or-treating?”

  “This is still so kind of you. It’s bad enough that he’s lying there, not moving, so injured,” Lucy said. “But what they’re saying! It’s impossible, it’s horrible…and it can’t be true. Oh, you should see the way people look at us. As if we’re silly parents, completely blinded. Almost as if we’re stupid. And we’re not. But—”

  “Lucy, please,” Nathan said softly.

  Lucy flushed, realizing that her voice had grown loud.

  Then she looked wide-eyed at Ashley again, shaking her head. She lowered her voice to little more than a whisper. “They’re saying he was into drugs. He had heroin in his bloodstream. Now he’s lying there…practically dead. And he could be charged with that accident if…if he ever comes to. Ashley, we were never stupid parents. We were never
blind to the drug scene. My Lord! We grew up when drugs were more prevalent than soda pop. And Stuart wasn’t an angel or a perfect child, but he was our child, and we did know him. But no matter what I say to the cops, or even to the hospital personnel, they just stare at me. Their eyes get so sad, and they stutter, and I can tell they’re thinking, ‘That poor woman. She thinks she knew her child, but she didn’t really.’ Ashley, of course I didn’t know everything about Stuart, and he wouldn’t talk about his latest project, but he still kept in touch with me, and he was not on drugs.”

  “I believe you,” Ashley said.

  Lucy caught both her hands, squeezing them so hard Ashley almost winced.

  “You do?”

  “Of course I do. Stuart was one of my best friends for years.”

  “Ashley,” Nathan said suddenly, “I’d heard you’d joined the police force.”

  “I’m in the academy,” Ashley said. “I haven’t been sworn in yet.”

  “But still…”

  They were both staring at her hopefully.

  “Please…don’t expect too much,” she said. “I asked my sergeant today if he’d ask the officer in charge if I could talk to him. I mean, I’m not sure what I can do, if I can find out anything, but I can assure people that I knew Stuart really well, too, and that I know he would never have voluntarily done drugs.”

  A nurse appeared in the doorway. “Mrs. Fresia, you’re welcome to sit with your son again, if you wish.”

  “Thank you.” Lucy looked at Ashley, smiling ruefully. “Excuse me, dear. I think it’s so important that one of us is with him at all times. Please come back. I can’t tell you what your coming here has meant to us.”

  “Of course I’ll be back.”

  “We’ll introduce you as a cousin, Ashley,” Nathan said to her. “Perhaps your voice will mean something to him. His mother and I…we don’t intend to give up.”

  “And,” Lucy added, “the police do come here to talk to us…to check on Stuart, and see how he’s doing. It’s not that any of the officers has been cruel or mean…. They just can’t seem to believe that we know Stuart wasn’t on drugs. Forgive me, dear, I’m getting back to my son.”

  “Of course.” Ashley kissed her cheek and gave her a big hug. Lucy left with the nurse. Ashley hesitated, then sat down next to Nathan. “Nathan, what has Stuart been up to? I’m sorry to say that I haven’t talked to him in a long while.”

  He stared down at his folded hands for several seconds, then looked around the waiting room.

  “Have you eaten?” he asked her.

  “Yes, thanks, I ate at the restaurant before coming.”

  “Let’s get coffee anyway.”

  Realizing that he didn’t want to talk in the waiting room, Ashley agreed. They went down to the hospital cafeteria.

  “I’m glad you’re not hungry,” he told her dolefully.

  “The food isn’t very good here, is it?”

  “Well, the care is great, definitely some of the finest in the nation.” He offered her a weak grimace. “Maybe it’s not a bad thing to lose a few pounds.”

  “When I come tomorrow, I’ll bring you dinner from Nick’s,” Ashley offered.

  “You don’t have to come tomorrow, Ashley. Lucy and I are holding up as well as can be expected.”

  “I’d like to come.”

  “How do you like your coffee?”

  “Black, usually. Unless it’s from what we call the ‘roach coach’—the food wagon where we get lunch during the day. Then I put some of the powdered stuff in it—makes it bearable.”

  He smiled, and Ashley allowed him to buy them both cups of coffee. He had tossed his old one. He had stared at it until it had grown cold, he told her.

  When they were seated, he ran his fingers through his hair, then looked at her. “I haven’t the least idea what Stuart was up to lately,” he said.

  She frowned. “Stuart was always anxious to please you and his mom. Not pressured to please you—I don’t mean that. He loves you so much.”

  “Yes, well…he was writing. Which was, of course, what he always wanted to do. Freelance. He hasn’t been able to get in with a major paper the way he wanted to, but he wasn’t troubled by that. He said that he was going to get the stories and get them out there, and then people would be coming to him. And he was making a living. Not getting rich, but making a living. He sold articles to a number of publications. One of them was In Depth.” He wagged a finger at Ashley before she could say anything. “Yes, it’s a rag. One of those papers that has headlines like, ‘I was abducted by a two-headed alien gladiator.’ But they pay well, give their reporters lots of freedom—well, obviously—and sometimes, sometimes, they come up with the kind of story that gets real attention. He’d been living at home with us but a few months ago, he said he was moving out for a while. That he was writing and wouldn’t be seeing much of us. And he meant it. We hadn’t seen him since.”

  Ashley sat back, frowning. “Did you tell this to the police?”

  “Of course.”

  “And they still think he just got himself involved with a bad crowd?”

  “I don’t know what they think. They’ve promised that they’re looking into the situation. So…” He ran his thumb over the rim of his coffee cup, staring at the coffee, then up at her. “So if there’s anything you can find out, his mother and I would greatly appreciate the help.”

  “I’m not even a rookie,” she told him.

  “You must have friends higher up in the force?” he said hopefully.

  “I do. And I swear, I’ll do all I can.”

  “Let’s go!” Nathan said, suddenly sounding angry.

  “What’s the matter?” Ashley said, looking around. Then she noticed the man who had gotten Nathan so upset. He was the man about her own age who’d had his head buried in the newspaper in the waiting room. Dark-haired, light-eyed, he looked like a decent sort. But then again, the most decent appearing people could be the slimiest.

  “That leech—another would-be reporter. Claims he knew Stuart. But he can’t seem to give us anything. They talked to him at first, and he came up with a bunch of wild stories. The police asked questions, and he did nothing but infuriate a lot of important people and make it harder for them to take Stu’s mom seriously. The media people have been obnoxious, trying to prove we’re unfit parents or something, and that tragedy of Stuart’s upbringing caused his descent into the pitfalls of drugs. I’ve gotten rid of them time after time, and one of the fellows on the case, Sergeant Carnegie, has been great, warning them away from us. This guy is trying to get a story out of us, and I don’t intend to turn Stuart’s trauma into a sensational headline.”

  Ashley rose along with Nathan. When they reached the hall, she told him that she was going to go home and get some sleep, but that she would be back the following night.

  “Ashley, that’s kind of you. Come on up for just a minute. We can get you in for a second, I’m certain.”

  She went back upstairs with Nathan. When they reached Stuart’s room and looked through the window, Lucy was by his bed, holding his hand.

  Tears welled in Ashley’s eyes as she saw her friend. He was connected to several monitors. There were tubes in his nose and mouth. An IV line dripped fluids into his veins. His face was bluish and swollen. A bandage was around his head.

  And yet his hand…

  The hand his mother held looked so incredibly normal. Stuart had beautiful hands, with long fingers and neatly clipped nails. Strong, masculine hands.

  Lucy glanced up and saw them. She rose and came to the door. “Ashley, I’ll get you a smock, then you can go in for a few minutes.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I said you’re my niece, our closest relative…go in, dear. Talk to Stuart.”

  Ashley nodded, because it seemed to mean so much to Lucy. She didn’t think Stuart would even know she was there.

  At Stuart’s side, just as Lucy had, she sat and held his hand. He seemed cold, cold as death, she thought, then forced
herself to banish the idea. It was awkward at first, but then she began to talk to him. “Listen, you stuck-up little would-be literary giant, you hang in there. You’ve got everything in the world, including the world’s most wonderful parents. I mean, Nick is great, but…We’ve talked about this before, but I like to imagine that my parents would have been like yours. And I’m going to find out what the heck you were up to, Stu, so help me. I know you’re not a junkie, and I’m going to prove it, I swear.”

  She thought she felt a squeeze. The slightest squeeze. She stared at his monitors. She didn’t know how to read them, but she was certain that nothing had changed.

  Neither had he. With the help of a machine, his breath rose and fell.

  And yet…

  Had she felt…something? Maybe they were right, and maybe he did hear her.

  She decided not to say anything. She didn’t want to hurt Lucy or Nathan with anything that resembled false hope.

  She stood, kissed his forehead and whispered that she’d been a lousy friend, but she did love him.

  She looked toward the door. Neither Lucy nor Nathan was there. The nurse noticed her, though, and slipped in, telling her that the Fresias were back out in the hallway, talking to one of the police officers.

  When Ashley got in sight of them, she nearly stopped dead in her tracks.

  The officer they were speaking to was none other than Jake Dilessio.

  CHAPTER 8

  Dilessio’s grave nod indicated acknowledgment. Lucy turned to her with hope written all over her face.

  “Ashley, thank you so much. I see that you’ve used your position to get us some more assistance,” she said.

  Ashley instantly felt her cheeks grow pink. She had no position, and she was more surprised than they were to find this particular detective showing an interest in the case.

  “I can’t promise you anything,” Dilessio told them. “I’ll speak with the investigating officers and do whatever I can to find out why your son was out there. I’ll tell you whatever I find out. But you have to be prepared for the fact that you may not like the answers.”