Beneath the Cracks (13 page)

I alternated between pacing and going out
for coffee.  It let me check my email without prying eyes,
though I doubt Forsythe realized that I had come and gone from the
room at all.  At five, I felt the phone vibrate in my pocket
and excused myself from the room again.

It was a text message from David. 
Call me ASAP.  Urgent.

I dialed the number and ignored the
censoring glares of staff at my audacity for ignoring hospital cell
phone rules.

"David?"

"That was quick.  Are you still at the
hospital with Maya?"

I gave him a quick update on her
condition.  "What's so urgent?"

He chuckled softly.  "Good news for a
change.  This rumor mill around here is something else."

"What happened?"

"Seems a close buddy of the president made
an unofficial complaint this morning.  This pal happens to be
a favored golf partner of both our commander in chief and my boss,
the director.  He wanted to know why the FBI would harass
someone who his state's top cop had completely vetted and
authorized to be a consulting partner to the police in Darkwater
Bay."

"Oh my God.  Are you telling me that
Orion actually has some clout?"

"The guy's got juice, my dear.  From
the gossips, it sounds like Seleeby got reamed pretty bad by our
fearless leader, and ordered in no uncertain terms to cease and
desist in his investigation of your former marriage to one Rick
Hamilton."

"Just like that?  It's really
over?"

"I got a call from one of the director's
many drones.  He wants to talk to me first thing in the
morning about you."

"Why?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but I think they
might be investigating why the advice of a supervisory special
agent was ignored in this matter, Helen.  Particularly the
supervisory special agent who served as your direct supervisor for
ten years."

"They're going to ask you if it was possible
that I didn't know about Rick's money laundering business for
Marcos."

"Yep, that'd be my guess."

"David…"

"I never doubted you, Helen.  Not for
one second.  I remember what you did when you got the call
about his arrest.  We were in Milwaukee working that child
abduction case, remember?  You snapped your phone shut,
plucked the cigar out of the lead detective's mouth, smoked it
until you turned green, and called your lawyer to initiate divorce
proceedings."

"That's not exactly a ringing endorsement
for my ignorance."

"I believed at the time, and later had that
belief confirmed, that you smoked the cigar so you'd be sick and
have something else to think about beyond what you felt like
doing.  Remember what happened at our hotel that night?"

"Not really.  As I recall, things got a
little fuzzy after the first carafe of wine at dinner."

"You cried your eyes out, Helen.  No
way were you going to break down in front of the local cops."

"I felt like a fool," the familiar emotions
rippled through me all over again.  "How could he do that to
me, to us?"

"Exactly my point.  You didn't
know.  It still pisses you off to this day that he lied to
you, Helen.  Believe me.  I know the difference between
the truth and the charades you play for the viewing public. 
You're a private person, and that's not a crime."

"Thank you, David."

"Don't mention it, my dear.  You know
I'd do anything for you."

I did know it, up to a point.  I was
pretty sure that to knowingly help me conceal a murder was a line
David would never cross, no matter how much he loved me.

"Listen, I should get back inside with
Maya.  I'm getting the evil eye from the nurses for using the
cell phone inside the hospital anyway.  I'll talk to you soon,
David."

We disconnected with promises to stay in
close touch, and I slipped back into the hospital room where Maya
drifted closer to consciousness.  "Did she wake while I was
gone?"

"Not really," Forsythe said.  "Should
she be sleeping this long?"

"They've kept her regularly medicated for
pain," I explained the periodic doses of fentanyl to him
again.  "But when the anesthesia from surgery is gone, she'll
become more lucid during the times when she wakes up."

"Does that mean she'll be suffering?" 
His fingers continued to dance over the back of Maya's hand. 
"I don't want her in pain, Helen."

"She can start giving herself a booster shot
with the PCA pump when she's awake.  Believe me, they don't
want her suffering either."

One of the nurses brought in a pitcher of
ice and a glass.  "It shouldn't be much longer before she
wakes more fully.  Would you like me to stay to explain what
happened today?"

"She's a doctor," Forsythe said.  "So
is Helen."

"I'm a PhD," I corrected, "but Maya is a
medical doctor.  She fully understood the potential outcome
this morning.  We'll call if she needs anything."

When her eyes fluttered open again, I
noticed that she was beginning to recognize her surroundings
instead of the groggy haze that seemed to coat the world before her
eyes.  She whispered my name.

"I'm right here, Maya."

Ken pressed a kiss to her forehead. 
"I'm here too, sweetheart."

Apparently things went
very
well for
Maya last night.

Forsythe squeezed her hand and waited for
her to look at him.  Maya didn't.  Instead she pulled her
hand free and patted the bandaged side of her chest.  Then she
cried.  I watched, overwhelmed with her grief and my own sense
of helplessness.  Some friend I was, huh? 

Forsythe didn't hesitate.  He perched
on the edge of the bed beside her, gathered her into his arms and
held her.  The murmured nonsense that fell from his lips
must've been coherent to her.  To me, it was garbled, shouting
under deep water.  The room swam in front of my
eyes. 

Ken looked up at me.  "She'll be all
right, Helen."

"I…I have to…go," I stammered.  "The
case.  I should…I haven't checked in with Briscoe and Conall
today."

"I'll call if she needs you," he said. 
"Go ahead.  I've got this."

Thank God he did.  Turns out I'm pretty
worthless in a personal crisis.  I couldn't erase the moment
of realization on her face, when her hand patted the flat side of
her chest, and she grieved for her lost identity. 

Having never been what men called
buxom
, I once wondered how women could attach such
importance to a body part.  Before today, that is.  It
was no different than losing and arm or a leg or an eye.  Part
of who Maya was had been taken away.  No matter what anyone
said, she had become less in her own eyes than she used to be.

I drove for three miles before I realized
why the world was still swimming.  I dashed the tears away and
pulled into the first parking lot I came to – outside a liquor
store.  Dad's words floated through my ears again. 
Hard liquor is for hard women, Helen. 

Well, I could stand to toughen up a little
bit.  I dashed inside the store and bought three bottles of
scotch.

"You okay lady?"

I thrust the hundred dollar bill I won from
Tony across the counter and muttered, "Keep the change."

The first bottle was half gone by the time I
parked in front of the courtyard.  I don't remember shutting
the gate behind me, or the door to the Expedition or even the front
door.  Instead, I stumbled blindly through the house to the
covered lanai and sat with my liquor out in the cold wondering how
long it would take before the hardness hit me.

Chapter 11

I'm not sure which event propelled me from
grief stricken into a bawling idiot.  Was it what happened to
Maya?  Was it the stress of Seleeby lurking around without my
knowledge for two weeks?  Was it because even in Maya's moment
of deepest pain, she had someone with the strength to pull it
together and comfort her?

Images of Forsythe holding her flitted
behind my drooping eyelids.  What was it about women like Maya
that naturally attracted the good guys?  My track record was
less than stellar in that regard.  Of all the men in all the
cities in all the world…and the one who found me had been Rick
Hamilton.

Stupid
!

I cursed myself while at the same time
wondering if what I needed was a little bit of reverse
psychology.  Every time my gut told me to do one thing, I
should do the opposite.  Would that work?  My instincts
told me I should run away from Johnny Orion.  Scratch
that.  My common sense told me to run away.  My hormones
had other ideas.

It was surely a sign of his fatal character
flaw, one beyond his overbearing personality that I had yet to
uncover.  Maybe my tastes had deteriorated from white-collar
criminal to dirty cop.  After all, for months I'd been plagued
with homesickness for Dad.  Who better than a surrogate just
as twisted as Wendell was?  But Orion wasn't a dirty
cop.  I'd proved that months ago.

Still, I wondered if the tables were turned
and I was the one lying in the hospital bed facing what could be
the end of my life, if I would be facing it alone.  Of course
Maya would be there – provided I bothered to open up and share what
was going on.

But would Johnny drop everything for me like
Ken had for Maya?  Sure, he made no bones about what he wanted
from me.  That didn't mean it would apply when the going got
rough.  What if his play to get Seleeby reined in hadn't
worked?  Would Johnny have simply tossed up his hands and
muttered something about giving it a shot?

I twisted off the cap on the second bottle
of scotch.  Had I bought six bottles?  Drunk two?  I
rubbed my eyes.  One empty.  Two full. 
Oh
boy.  This is drunk, and I still don't feel like a hard woman
yet.

My fingers grappled for the purse I dropped
on the concrete floor of the lanai.  Phone.  Wake the
screen.  Dial the number.  Simple, right? 

Touch screens are a bitch to drunken
fingers.  I struggled with the slide mechanism that would
unlock the screen and twice opened the mail application instead of
the phone function.  At last, I saw the numeric pad. 
Slowly, I dialed the numbers and stared at the screen.

Nothing happened.

Then I remembered to touch the call
button.

"Orion."

My lower lip trembled.

"Hello?"

"Johnny?" whispered.  He couldn't have
heard me.

"What's wrong, Doc?"

I sniffled.

"I'll be right there."

Before I knew what was happening, Orion was
scooping me out of the chaise outside and carrying me into the
house.  The rich aroma of coffee wafted through the air, found
my nostrils and managed to stir a little life into my
limbs. 

No, that wasn't what did it.  Orion had
one of my hands clasped between his and rubbed furiously.  I
noticed that the sofa was moved across the room within a few feet
of my fireplace, now blazing with the flame from natural gas.

"Johnny."

"Hey."  He didn't stop rubbing the
sensation back into my hand.

"How'd you get here so fast?"

"You're drunk and have no concept of
time."

Uh-oh.  Somebody didn't sound
particularly happy.

"You mad at me, Orion?"

"I'm less than thrilled over your
carelessness.  Do you have any idea what I found when I got
here?"

"No…"

"Gate open.  Car running in the
driveway, front door wide open, and you're practically comatose out
in the cold, drunk off your ass."

"Oh."  I had a good reason for the
alcohol, didn't I?  What was it?

Pain stabbed through my heart, and before I
could push the emotion back into my gut, I was sobbing.

Johnny dropped my hand, eyes filled with
alarm.  "Did I hurt you?  Shit.  Helen, I'm so sorry
–"

"My friend," I hiccuped.  Words bubbled
forth, jumbled and garbled, and I'm sure they made about as much
sense to Johnny as the lost language of Atlantis.  His arms
wound around me and held me tightly to his chest.  I wasn't
sure if I was dizzy or if he was rocking me, but suddenly, I felt
sick.  At the same time, I clung to the comfort found outside
the soul-crushing solitude my life had become. My heart kept
whispering to that paranoid monster living inside my cranium,
he
came.  He came.

Dizziness and the general confusion of
alcohol wreaked havoc on my spatial sense.  The next thing I
realized, Orion was lying beside me on the sofa, holding me while I
sobbed what I thought was the entire story into his strong
chest.

"Hold on.  Your friend has cancer?"

"Mastectomy," I wept harder.  "So
bad.  So hurt.  So alone."  Did I mean Maya or
me?

"Shh," he soothed.  His hands anchored
me in a world quickly spinning out of control.  "It'll be all
right, honey.  I'm so sorry.  It'll be okay, I
promise."

He couldn't, and I knew it, but appreciated
the sentiment just the same.  What battered my senseless
defenses was that I didn't even have to ask.  He came.  I
spoke his name, and he knew I needed him.  I couldn’t deny
it.  I needed this man, specifically.  Whatever had drawn
me to him the night we first met wasn’t passing fancy.  It
wasn't going away by denial.  And it was utterly divorced from
logic.

"Why're you so good to me?" I mumbled. 
"It makes no sense."

One of the hands sliding up and down my back
cupped the back of my head and tilted it until our eyes met. 
"Are you really asking me that question?"

I looked into his incredulous eyes and
nodded.

"Helen."  It was more of a caress to
the soul than a word.  "I have been falling in love with you
since the day we met.  Don't you know that?"  His head
dipped.  He kissed one of my eyes, then the other.