Angels in Disguise (28 page)

"You wouldn't call here in the middle of the day if something wasn't wrong."

Now he knew why Hawkman always said his wife had great intuition and could practically read his mind. “Hawkman's in the hospital, but he's going to be all right."

"What happened?"

The detective told her what he could. “I didn't know whether to call or not, but when I got here and they said he was going into surgery, figured I'd better."

"I appreciate it. Will you be there for a while?"

"Yes."

"I'll get to the hospital as soon as I can."

"Should you come here and be exposed to all these sick people?"

"That's not an option at the moment. See you in about an hour."

He opened his mouth to object, but she'd already hung up. Exhaling loudly, he called the officers he had on duty at Hawkman's office. “Did you find any clues? Not a fingerprint anywhere? How about a sharp edged weapon?"

Williams paced the sidewalk as the officer talked. “This has got to be the damnedest thing I've ever come across. A child has disappeared without a clue, then an attempt on Hawkman's life and no inkling of who did it. This is a frustrating situation.” He stopped, and listened. “I know, you're doing the best you can. I'm just thinking out loud. Make sure Hawkman's place is locked up, then tell the baker man downstairs Hawkman's going to be okay. Then you two go ask some questions door to door. See if anyone spotted a vehicle driving up the alley or noticed a person going up to his office around noon. I'll check in with you later.” He slapped shut his cell phone and stalked back into the waiting room. When he caught the eye of the clerk, she shook her head, so he flopped down in a chair and snatched a magazine from the end table.

Unable to sit still, Williams crossed and uncrossed his legs while watching the door for Jennifer's arrival. Finally, he got up and confronted the woman at the counter. “Come on, surely Tom Casey's out of surgery by now. He couldn't have been bunged up that bad."

"Hold on a minute and I'll go check."

He shifted from one foot to the other while thumbing his fingers on the counter top. Suddenly, someone tapped him gently on the shoulder. He whirled around and faced Jennifer. “Hello, sweetheart.” And put an arm around her shoulders.

She wore a solemn expression and her eyes were shadowed with worry. “Is he all right?"

"I've just asked the gal to go find out what's going on. He's been in surgery for over an hour. I didn't think he'd been cut up that bad."

She took a deep breath and bit her lower lip. “Who did this?"

"Don't know. He says it happened fast, had his back to the door and didn't see anything."

Jennifer closed her eyes for a moment. “I wanted to put a bell on that door a long time ago, but he wouldn't hear of it. Bet he won't argue anymore."

"Stay close to me, I don't have any contagious disease. And you don't need to be around any people who are coughing and sneezing. We can't afford to have you sick.” He held her away from him and looked into her eyes. “How are you doing? Looks like you've still got your hair."

She forced a faint smile. “It's a wig. I'm as bald as a cue ball."

"Man, you bought a great match.” He grinned. “You're still beautiful."

"Thanks."

About that time, the attendant returned. “Mr. Williams."

He whirled around. “Yes."

"They've just rolled Mr. Casey into recovery. He's doing fine. They had to repair muscle and tendons. I told the surgeon you wanted to speak with him."

"Good."

Jennifer stepped up to the counter. “I'm Tom Casey's wife. How long will it be before I can see him?"

"Probably an hour, then they'll move him to a private room. Check back with me and I'll be able to tell you the number."

"Thank you."

They stepped toward a row of chairs just as the surgeon, still in his scrubs, hustled around the corner. “Detective Williams?"

Williams raised a hand. “Over here."

The doctor hurried toward him. “You wanted to see me?"

"Yes. What kind of weapon made Casey's wounds?"

"I'd say a long knife. Not the normal switchblade type, more like a sharp carving one. The cuts were very deep."

Jennifer reached over and touched the doctor's arm. “I'm his wife and got here as soon as I heard the news. Where are the wounds?"

He pointed to the upper part of his left arm and forearm. “There were two swipes, one here on the upper area, which was the worst, and one on the lower part. But both required extensive repair."

Jennifer grimaced. “Will that arm be disabled?"

"It'll take awhile to heal, and he'll definitely need therapy. But I believe it will be fully functional in time."

"When can I take him home?"

"Tomorrow around noon, if there are no complications."

After the doctor disappeared down the corridor, Jennifer and the detective meandered toward the far corner of the waiting room and sat down. She stared at Williams as he stifled a yawn and noticed his eyes were bloodshot.

"How long has it been since you've had any sleep?"

He shrugged. “I don't remember."

"You look beat. Why don't you go home and get some rest. There's nothing you can do here."

He rubbed his eyes. “Are you going to stay all night?"

"Probably. But I can curl up in a chair in Hawkman's room and catch a few winks."

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm doing just fine and my next chemo isn't until Monday. I'll have my patient home by then and in case I need other help, Amelia's just down the block."

"You realize you're not going to be able to keep him down."

She nodded and let out a soft sigh. “I know."

Williams stood and straightened his rumpled jacket. “If you're sure you don't need me, I think I'll take off. I'm pretty wiped out.” He surveyed the area. “Stay as far away as you can from any coughers. We don't need you down too."

She patted him on the back. “Don't worry, I'll be careful. It looks like the place is thinning out, and they'll have Hawkman in a room before long. You go home and go to bed,"

Once the detective left, Jennifer settled back in the chair and opened the mystery book she'd thought to grab as she dashed out the door. Soon, the clerk at the admitting desk called her forward.

"Mrs. Casey, they have your husband in room four twenty-five.” She pointed down the hallway. “Take the elevator on the left."

"Thank you."

When she got to the room, she hesitated a moment outside the door and caught her breath. It seemed only walking a few steps left her winded. She straightened her shoulders, and stepped over the threshold. Hawkman lay with his arm bandaged from his shoulder down to his fingers. He turned his head and looked at her with groggy eyes. “Honey, you shouldn't be here."

She placed her purse and jacket on the chair, then crossed over to the bedside. Taking his uninjured hand, she brought it to her lips. “Wild horses couldn't have kept me away."

His left eyelid fluttered. “Where's my eye-patch?"

Jennifer fished through the plastic bag containing his personal items and finally found it in his jeans’ pocket. She slipped it over his head.

"Thanks,” he said, adjusting it over his eye. “Is Williams around?"

"No, I sent him home. The man appeared utterly exhausted. He couldn't even remember when he'd last slept."

"When can I get out of here?” He tried to sit up, but groaned. “Damn, that smarts."

She pointed a finger at him. “Just lay still. You're not going anywhere. If you behave yourself, they might let me take you home tomorrow.” She eased down on the bed. “Do you feel like telling me what happened?"

His eye closed. “How about after I take a nap."

Saturday morning, Jennifer took Hawkman home and tucked him into bed. “Now you have to stay here for at least two hours or I won't fix you anything to eat."

"Boy, you really know how to hurt a guy. By the way, where's my 4X4?"

"It's still at the office. I gave Detective Williams the keys this morning when he dropped by the hospital. He said he'd bring it home sometime today when he could grab a free officer to follow him. Also, he said he wanted to talk to you about what happened."

Hawkman flinched and glanced down at his bandaged arm. “I'd like to get my hands on who did this.” Then he gazed at Jennifer. “I think I'll be able to take you to your chemo treatment on Monday."

She shook her head. “Not this time. Amelia's going to drive me. She has to do some shopping in Medford for the store, so it's perfect timing."

He slammed his right fist against the mattress. “Why in the hell did this have to happen now?"

"Don't get yourself all upset over the situation. It occurred, and we'll take it from there. Main thing is to let the arm heal, then get you into therapy. You heard the doctor. It's going to take awhile to get it back to normal."

He stared into her face. “You know I can't stay down, Jennifer. I've got to find Tiffany before it's too late."

She sat on the foot of the bed and gnawed her lower lip. “Can't Detective Williams take over? This person tried to kill you. Next time he might succeed."

"He won't get a second chance.” Hawkman tossed back the cover and threw his legs over the edge of the bed. When he tried to stand, his body dropped back to the mattress, and he clutched his head.

She jumped up and came to his side. “What are you trying to do?"

"I can't wear my shoulder holster with all this crappie bandage wrapped around me. I've got to get my .22 mag Black Widow out of the gun case and check it out so I can carry it in my boot."

"I'll get it for you. Stay in bed. You can't do anything today; you're too weak."

He grit his teeth as he slumped back onto the pillow. “I hate this helpless feeling. And my arm hurts like hell."

"The doctor prescribed some pain pills, so I picked them up at the pharmacy. Do you want one?"

"No."

Jennifer went into Hawkman's office and worked the combination on the gun vault. She retrieved the small box containing the Black Widow pistol, closed the door and twirled the knob. “He always keeps his weapons in immaculate shape, I don't see why he's worried about it,” she grumbled, marching back into the bedroom.

She found him standing again and struggling into a pair of Levi's. Dropping the gun onto the bed, she helped him tug up the pants and buckle the belt. He pointed out the sliding glass door of their bedroom.

"I just spotted my 4X4 coming around the bend. Detective Williams should be knocking on the door any minute. Can you grab me a shirt out of the closet? One with snaps or buttons down the front, yet big enough to fit over all this tape and gauze."

She quickly flipped a shirt off the hanger and tugged it over his large shoulders as he slipped his right arm through the hole and fastened it.

"Thanks. I'll take care of the gun later. Right now I better talk to Williams."

Jennifer helped him get situated in his chair overlooking the lake just as the doorbell rang. She welcomed the detective and his side kick, then ushered them into the living room. “Can I get you a cup of coffee or a glass of iced tea?” she asked.

"Coffee sounds great,” Williams said.

"Excuse me if I don't stand, but I find myself a little lightheaded,” Hawkman said, extending his right hand. “Thanks for bringing my vehicle home. I really appreciate it."

"No problem. I also need to ask you some questions about the attack. You feel like talking?"

"Yeah, but I don't know how much help I'm going to be. I had my back to the entry and just punched in your cell phone number when the light suddenly changed in the room. I looked around to see who'd entered the office. I immediately spotted this long blade poised above my head and heard a swishing sound as it moved downward. I dropped the phone and lashed out with my left hand to stop it. I felt a searing pain surge through me and blood poured from my arm. I guess if I hadn't twisted around, I'd probably be dead. Thank goodness you answered the phone."

The detective furrowed his brows. “What do you mean by a swishing noise?"

"I'm not sure, but it resembled a sheet hanging on the clothes line being whipped by the wind."

"And you never actually saw the person?"

"No, it happened so fast. All I recall is a blurred silhouette, like a fast moving figure in an old time movie."

"You think this person could have been wearing a long coat?"

Hawkman scratched his head. “Very possible. The movement of the arm going up and down could have caused the illusion."

"It's odd you never saw a face."

"Wish I had, but it seemed obscured by a hood or something. I'm not sure. The door blocked my view as the attacker ran out, then I went down."

The detective rose from the couch. “We've got to get back to the station. Take it easy and I'll let you know if we come up with anything."

"Williams, you know whoever did this has Tiffany. Time is moving fast and we've got to find the child."

Jennifer followed Hawkman into the bedroom and watched him lift his cowboy boots out of the closet. Then he moved over to the dresser and fumbled in one drawer after another.

She placed her hands on her hips. “What are you looking for now?"

"My ankle holster."

"It's in the gun cabinet. Want me to get it?"

"Please."

She went into his office again, realizing there would be no way to stop him, so she might as well be on his side. Maybe she could talk him into waiting to go into town until tomorrow. Another good night's sleep would give him more strength and he'd be less vulnerable. Her husband had been through much worse and she knew he'd get through this, but worry still raced through her heart. Whoever attacked him was very evil. When she thought about how the knife could have gone through his back, shivers raced down her spine. She needed him now more than ever.

Retrieving the small holster, she went back into the room, handed it to him, then sat down on the edge of the bed and watched as he attempted to strap it around his right ankle with one hand. She struggled within herself not to reach over and help, so she sat on her hands. “Honey, I hope you're not planning on going out tonight. You're still awfully weak."