Necessary Detour (29 page)

From what he could put together, the scum who shot Nikki had been standing right in front of the rock star and was nailed by the press before he’d fired another bullet. Some photographer looked sideways, saw the gun and busted his camera over the guy’s head. The shooter tried to run, but he was an older guy and there hadn’t even been a chase. Probably some chump who owed Cassius a favor. And, when the shooter heard he’d shot Goldy the rock star, not Cathy Vanelli, he broke out in tears and asked the police to shoot him right then and there. Supposedly his life was as good as over, having missed his target.

See how it feels to have your life over.

The shooter agreed to trade information for a lighter sentence, and Pete guessed how it would go down. They’d get incriminating evidence on Cassius or at least someone high up in exchange for the shooter getting seven years, one of it on probation. He’d be killed as soon as he got out.

If Nikki didn’t make it, Pete would be begging someone to shoot him. The guilt would eat him alive, along with the knowledge that he hadn’t told her how he felt. Hell, he didn’t even know how much he felt for her until that morning.

“Heard anything about Goldy?” he asked Hitchens when he saw him at the coffee machine later.

“Just that she took one bullet to the shoulder.”

As much as Pete didn’t want her to be shot anywhere, the shoulder wasn’t nearly as bad as the gut. He should know. Eight years earlier a bullet had pierced his back, narrowly missing his kidneys. It had taken almost a year to get the strength back from his gunshot wound. The effects of that accident slowed him down even now.

****

Pete was outside the closed courtroom when word came down from HQ that he’d be needed another twenty-four hours. Connie’s testimony would continue tomorrow. Pete was to take her to a safe house for the night.

Dammit.

Going to the hospital was out. He’d have to get information about Nikki by phone. Feeling helpless, he pulled Officer Hitchens aside on his way out of the courthouse and pleaded his case. “Can you find out how Goldy is doing? How bad it is, and if I can talk to her?”

Hitchens nodded and said he’d see what he could do. By now, everyone suspected Pete’s investment in the case.

When Pete got to the safe house, he phoned workers who’d been on shift at the Trauma Center when Goldy had been admitted to the ER. No one was talking. Where were all the nurses and hospital workers who wanted to be on TV? Surely there would be someone who’d seen her get wheeled in, knew something, and wanted air time.

Connie and Tony sat down to pizza at the dining room table of the hotel suite. Pete turned on the TV to see if there was any news about Goldy. News stations often had information before anyone. Even if they were telling people to stand by, it would be better than hearing nothing.

The newspaper’s headline that day had said “Goldy Shot Downtown” and stated that she was involved in the Cathy Vanelli case. They also reported that Goldy was four months pregnant as stated by a man who’d called the information to an ambulance attendant several times.

Lowering himself tentatively to sit on the edge of the couch, he scanned the stations in search of a Goldy photo.

Connie drifted over to sit down with him. “I feel terrible for Nikki. I hope Elvis is with her.”

He couldn’t believe with all Connie had on her mind, she included Nikki and Elvis in her thoughts.

“I’m sure he is.” He patted Connie’s arm absently, then noticed the police at the table watching him. Watching them. “How you doing after that ordeal in court?”

“I’m fine,” she said.

A photograph of Goldy filled the TV screen and Pete turned up the volume.

“And topping the headlines tonight is the shooting of beloved rock star Goldy Burnside, in front of the King County Courthouse in Seattle, where the Tony Vanelli murder trial is taking place.” The anchor woman’s face was appropriately grave as she recounted the details of the shooting. The split screen showed the photo of Pete on the dock at Louisa Lake next to a Goldy publicity shot.

“Oh crap, haven’t we seen that enough?” Pete groaned.

The anchor continued, “Although it isn’t clear what she was doing at the courthouse, speculation is that she jumped from a van being driven by the unidentified man who was at the rock star’s property only a few weeks ago. At that time, it was reported that he was a friend to the rock icon. Although we have not identified the man, we have confirmation that he is a neighbor at her summer home and, at the time the photograph was taken, he reported that Goldy was not on site. However, the allegedly married neighbor was photographed at the crime scene only minutes after the shooting, trying to get through the crowd to Goldy.”

Next, they showed video footage of Pete yelling that Goldy was pregnant. The look of desperation on his face scared Pete more than the speculation he was a married neighbor. This was a side he’d never seen in himself, and he closed his eyes.

“The unidentified man is seen here, telling the paramedics that Goldy is four months pregnant. According to bystanders, he yelled it several times, trying to get the attention of the paramedic, as well as yelling to Goldy that he loved her, calling her Nikki, which is Goldy Burnside’s given name.”

The next tidbit turned out to be the grand finale, the piece de resistance. Someone had taken a video of Pete yelling, near the back of the ambulance. The camera zoomed in to capture him yelling. The sound was compromised but intelligible, and they’d subtitled the shouter’s message.

“Nikki, hang in there! It’s Pete, Nikki. I love you! Be strong!”

Pete wiped his unshaven face and groaned.

Connie reached over and grabbed his hand.

“Yeah, but how is she?” he asked the television. If they hadn’t reported her dead, she was probably still alive.

He switched to another channel.

“...otherwise known to the world as Goldy, the infamous rock star, was shot and injured.”

Injured was good.

“It was thought the bullet was meant for Cathy Vanelli, high profile witness to the Tony Vanelli murder in Seattle, last July.”

They showed a split screen of the two women in question. Anyone could see that Goldy and Cathy didn’t look alike. Only the hair was similar, and the announcer said as much, going on about the shooter’s identity and his association with Cassius Zetti.

“Goldy was rushed to Seattle Trauma Center where Doctor Drummond Vogan, removed a bullet from her shoulder.”

When they said the word “shoulder,” Pete jumped up. “Yes!” He punched the air. “Shoulder! Yes!” She hadn’t been hit in the chest after all. “Whew! The shoulder is good.” He turned to Connie and nodded.

“Yes, the shoulder is very good.” Connie turned back to the TV.

The reporter continued. “No information is available about Goldy Burnside’s condition, but we are expecting an interview with Dr. Vogan within the hour. We have no current information about the alleged pregnancy or the identity of the man in the video, last seen with Goldy Burnside at Louisa Lake in eastern Washington, where Goldy has a house. This photo was taken only weeks ago on the retired rock star’s dock. At that time, Goldy issued a statement saying the man was her married neighbor. Seattle Trauma Center has taken security measures, and Goldy is under protective custody, as is usually the case in a situation like this.”

The anchor went on to talk about Goldy’s daughter Quinn, who attended the University of Washington, and Goldy’s ex-husband Burn Burnside, who they interviewed only minutes before the broadcast. Both photos flashed on the screen. Reporters had caught Burn just outside LAX, running to catch a flight to Seattle. He stopped briefly to say that he was concerned for Goldy, but knew she was tough and would pull through. They asked him what her condition was and Burn said simply, “I’ll know when I get there. Pray for her.”

The newscast described Goldy’s twenty-year career, Burn’s career, and then reported that although no one knew what Goldy’s connection was to Cathy Vanelli, it was speculated that they were friends. There was no other reason why Goldy would’ve jumped into the group of reporters.

Cathy rubbed her temples and turned to Pete. “I didn’t figure that out until now.” She sounded so weary that he put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. He and Cathy had come a long way and it would soon be over.

“The shoulder is fixable, Tony.”

Pete tried to call the hospital again, but couldn’t get through on his name or credentials. Nikki would be in recovery, doped up, unable to take his call, anyways.

He’d asked his boss and Officer Hitchens to find out something for him, but hadn’t heard back from either. For a U.S. Marshal who was a master at surveillance, he felt useless.

Cathy looked at Pete. “Now you know what I’ve known.”

Pete sat down beside her on the leather couch. “What’s that?” He dropped his head to his hands.

“That you are in love with Nikki.”

“Well…” What could he say? “What I said…it was…more or less said in the heat of the moment…” He snuck a look at Cathy, who was giving him a dirty look.

“Why are men so thick sometimes?” She sighed.

“Okay, I’m in love with Nikki.” Pete smirked at her, then looked at Tony. “Who wouldn’t love Nikki?” If he hadn’t been so concerned about her life, he might have felt proud of his declaration.

“When you see her again, please tell her that I’m sorry she was shot,” Cathy said.

“Of course.” He leaned forward, sitting on the edge of the couch and listened to the rest of the CNN account of the afternoon’s events. Nothing was said about her dog. Pete just hoped and prayed that Elvis was with her.

****

Everything was fucked. But salvageable. The thought of Goldy dying of a bullet wound was unthinkable. She needed to know why she was dying, what she did, and the only way to save two years of careful work was to act soon. In case she died. Two chances had come and gone, the second when her location at Louisa Lake was revealed. This new twist of events had to be thought of as the next opportunity. The culmination of this would happen in Seattle, not Los Angeles. That was clear. Goldy would finally pay for her selfishness. Her audacious entitlement. The wrong would be set right.

The hospital was almost within view from the hotel. How ironic. Hiding in Seattle, waiting for the moment to capture the prey and there she was cornered. Unable to run. Injured. Offered up like a Thanksgiving turkey with Seattle Medical Center as the platter. How lovely and perfect. Come to think of it, this couldn’t have worked out better. The cell phone stayed charged, waiting for the call.

****

Quinn slept in a vinyl chair beside her mother. Machines beeped softly in the room as Nikki shifted her head to get a better view of her daughter. It was dark outside, and the room was dimly lit, not illuminated by the fluorescents on the ceiling. It looked like a hospital room and was probably a VIP suite. They were usually spacious and nicely decorated with more amenities for those who could afford to pay well above what insurance provided. And those who needed ultimate privacy.

Nikki tried to lift her head and a searing pain shot through her upper chest and down her arm. Her eyes widened, and she must have made a sound, because Quinn bolted upright in her chair.

“Mom?” In one quick move, Quinn was beside her laying a hand very carefully on Nikki’s thigh. “You’re in the hospital.”

“Hmmm.” Was this a dream? A memory? At what point in her life had she dropped in, just now? What questions needed asking? She didn’t try opening her mouth, in case that caused another shot of pain.

“The baby is safe.” Quinn had fat tears in her eyes, ready to drop. “You were shot in the upper chest. It didn’t affect Princess.”

Nikki managed a smile. She’d forgotten she was pregnant. Thank God the baby was fine. She’d been at the lake. She and Quinn had gone swimming. Then Quinn left and what happened next? She’d been with Elvis. There’d been a strange family in the log house. “Elvis?”

“He’s fine.” Quinn said. “You need to rest Mom. They told me to call the nurse when you woke up.” Quinn grabbed the button and pushed.

I was shot?
“Shakespeare?”

“What?”

Oh. Quinn didn’t know about him.

The nurse flew through the door like she’d been waiting. A guard stood watch outside the door. Was it Dwayne?

The nurse smiled. “Well, well, look who decided to join us.” She checked the monitors. “How are you doin’, Goldy?”

“Sore.”

“That’s to be expected. The doctor is on his way.”

“How bad is it?”

“You had quite a time of it. You were shot. The bullet hit your left lung and you lost a lot of blood. The best thing you can do right now is rest, and tomorrow we’ll start you eating and drinking. You’ve been in and out for twelve hours.”

Nikki watched her daughter’s face to confirm the nurse was telling the truth and there would be no hidden surprises. The baby was still there. Quinn was not a good liar, especially with her mother. “And the baby wasn’t affected.” Nikki reassured herself.

“He’s just fine.”

“He?”

“I don’t know. We can ultrasound you tomorrow to see, if you want.” The nurse looked flustered.

Nikki smiled to think that the baby was safe.

“The press?”

“Oh, the goddamned press can wait.” Quinn snapped.

“Who shot me?”

“They got him. Some low life. It was meant for Cathy Vanelli.” Quinn’s lips were white.

“Who’s Cathy Vanelli?”

“The woman you knew as Connie Bayer.” Quinn stared at her mother’s reaction.

“Connie Bayer?” Nikki whispered.