Bullet in the Night (13 page)

“You’re in luck. We got a shipment of roses this morning.” With fluttery hands, she opened the cooler behind her and pulled out a bumpy pea green vase filled with delicate peach roses circled by baby’s breath.

“What a perfect arrangement. I’ll take it.” I rubbed my fingertips across a smooth rose petal.

Alda counted my change twice. “Sorry for the wait. I don’t want to have any errors in the gift shop cash register during my shift.”

“No problem.” I savored the peaceful interlude of a few moments to transition myself mentally for my visit.

At the hospital information desk, an elderly gentleman with a congenial air directed me toward the elevator row at the end of the hallway.

The silver doors opened when I approached. I pressed eight and held my breath until the steel cables reached my floor. At what age had riding in an elevator stopped being a thrill?

Following the maze of arrows, I found the ICU wing. A curly headed blonde ward clerk pointed me toward Lenora’s location and gave me permission for a ten-minute visit.

A sense of dread dropped over me, and my chest tightened. I mustered my willpower to tiptoe into the eerie maze of electronics maintaining Lenora’s life. One machine’s control panel looked intricate enough to fly a plane. It rhythmically inflated her lungs like balloons being pumped for a children’s party. I forced myself not to cry. Lenora’s face appeared twenty years older than when I’d last seen her.

I couldn’t hug her with the apparatus attached but planted a light kiss on her cheek. Her skin was hot and lifeless. I cringed.

A tan vinyl and chrome lounger beckoned me from the corner. The sooner I got into a sitting position the better.

Lord, let her live.
Lenora’s dying wouldn’t be right. Only a full lifespan was acceptable for my friend. Yet God’s idea of what’s best often differed from mine. I didn’t pretend to understand the timing of death. Life on earth with no aging was my preference and then entering heaven all at once with those I loved.

Wishful thinking. God was in charge. The fact that He lengthened ancient Hezekiah’s life fifteen years as a result of prayer inspired me, so I always prayed for more life. I sensed a hovering dark presence in the room. With authority I said, “Death, you cannot have her. Get out.”

A teardrop formed in the corner of Lenora’s eye. Did I imagine it? I called for the nurse.

A ruddy-complexioned woman in white slacks and yellow sweater appeared. “Was that you buzzing?”

“She’s crying. See.” I pointed. “Does that mean my friend’s coming out of her coma?”

“She’s heavily sedated to keep from struggling against the machine. The tear must be an autonomic response.”

“I don’t think so.” My voice sounded loud and frantic. “How long must she be on it?”

“I’m sorry. You’ll have to ask her doctor.” The nurse gave me a sympathetic smile. “Are you aware you can only stay ten minutes at a time?”

I nodded.

She approached Lenora’s bed to straighten the sheets and reposition the pillows, making her more comfortable before leaving the room. Reports of people emerging from a comatose state who said they’d heard every word spoken around them popped into my mind. Was there a tiny chance Lenora could hear me and understand? I ignored her physical state, forgot my emotions, and spoke normally.

I stroked Lenora’s arm and in fact chattered like a Chatty Kathy doll, first about the Second Chance Prison Foundation and then work. I wished she could turn my way, instead of being immobile, confined by mechanics. Resting my hand on Lenora’s, I prayed, “Lord, make every cell in Lenora’s body as healthy as it was the day of her birth.”

Silence settled into the air. I sensed the presence of the Holy Spirit with Lenora and me like a third friend. I relaxed in a chair, closed my eyes, and sought comfort and healing for Lenora in this frightening place.

I lost track of time. Too soon the nurse returned. “Time’s up.” She smiled.

A heavy weight descended on my shoulders. “Couldn’t I remain a bit longer?”

“If you wait fifty minutes, you can visit for another ten.”

I checked my watch. The paperwork in my briefcase could be done here as well as at the office. Now that I was finally with my friend, I wanted all the time I could get.

“The waiting room is just off telemetry.” The nurse spoke kindly and gestured toward a door down the hall on the left.

“Fine. I’ll be in there.”

The eight-by-ten room, mercifully empty, would serve well as my office for an hour. I sat on a comfortable tufted chair, clicked on Fox News for the murmur of background noise, and pulled out paperwork to review.

I began to read but soon the page blurred in front of me. My head drooped toward it, and I jerked upright. As I floated in and out of sleep, eventually I stuck my work back into my case and leaned back. The strain of this visit had been greater than anticipated.

Almost an hour passed before a nurse slipped in. “Excuse me, Ms. Trevor. You can return to Ms. Lawrence now.” 

I shook my head groggily to clear my mental fog. “Thanks.” I stood, stretched, and took a deep breath before following her to Lenora’s room. This time the hulking ventilator seemed less intimidating. Was it possible to get used to things like this?

“Not to worry, Lenora,” I said when we were alone. “You’re going to be fine. Tucker is holding the fort until you return. The sooner the better.”

Lenora’s eyes were open, focused on the ceiling. If she understood, she gave no indication. I chattered on anyway. “You’ll be off this contraption soon. Modern medicine is phenomenal; you’re getting excellent care here.” I searched my mind for other phrases to encourage her. “Tucker is holding up well but is very concerned about you.”

I stared at her glass-like eyes for any glimmer of recognition.

Nothing.

“The foundation needs you. I’m making myself available for your clients, but I know they’d prefer you…” I paused. “Squeeze my finger if you understand any of this.”

The beeper on Lenora’s IV pole went off, startling me. Still she didn’t squeeze my finger.

The nurse hurried in and switched bags of IV fluid. As she adjusted the flow, she explained to Lenora what she was doing. Nurses were expected to speak to comatose patients as if they were alert. I’d been doing the same thing, so it didn’t surprise me. “Lenora, your brother called to check on you. He sends his love.”

I stared at the nurse, my mouth agape.

Focused on her patient, the nurse continued. “He wanted a report on your condition.” She turned on her rubber soles, brushed past me and out the door.

I jumped up following her into the hall.

“Lenora doesn’t have a brother,” I stammered. “She always jokes about being an only child.”

“That’s weird. Musta been some kind of mistake.”

“Did this man leave his name?”

“No. Said he’d call back later…”

“Please listen carefully. This is very important. The caller could be the sniper checking on her physical status. Tell your supervisor to contact the police. They need to get a guard here immediately. Now that this person has confirmed her location, Lenora may be in danger.”

The stunned woman hurried off with bulging eyes. I returned to Lenora’s room.

“Lenora, dear.” I kissed her on the forehead. “You keep fighting. My time is up, but I’ll come again. We need you with us. I love you.”

My lips quivered. Why had I never told my friend I loved her, when I truly did?

Trudging down the corridor toward the exit, I passed several other glassed-in telemetry rooms, each with a mechanical arsenal fighting the hovering enemy of death.

Family members moved in clusters in and out of loved one’s rooms, startling at every beep of the IV.

I felt guilty for all the times I let minor troubles bother me in relationships with people I loved. At every moment, day or night, beloved people in hospitals were fighting for life. 

Lord, except for Your grace, how could we endure such emotional and physical pain? How horrible to be suspended between life and death as Lenora is. Heal her, please. Dying isn’t a bad thing; I expect heaven to be wonderful, just not yet for Lenora, Lord, not like this.

A client’s wife had shared with me that her husband raised his hand before dying to reach out to someone invisible, saying, “At last you’ve come…” Then he smiled and died.

I tossed my head. 
No more thoughts of death, Jennifer.

* * *

Once in my van, I whipped out my cell and called Tucker. He didn’t pick up so I left a voicemail message warning him to be on the lookout for a phantom brother.

When I reached my office, I called the hospital to make sure a guard would be located outside Lenora’s room. The ward clerk told me that wasn’t going to happen.

“Why not? What about the phony brother’s call?” I explained how serious the threat was.

“Please calm down, Dr. Trevor. The head nurse concluded the nurse on duty must have misunderstood or there was a mix-up of patients’ names. The brother’s call was probably for another patient. We have a Laura on the floor, too, who does have a brother.” The ward clerk failed to convince me.

I set my phone down.

No way did I believe Lenora was safe. Was I being paranoid or wise?

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“One of the ex-convicts goes by the name Russell.”

My assistant Ellen looked up from reading a G. K. Chesterton mystery while sipping Diet Coke during a break in our tiny staff room. “He may know something about Lenora’s shooting.”

I grabbed a Grannie Smith apple and bit into it. “I need to connect with him. Kirk mentioned a Russell as a possible suspect.”

Ellen was instantly alert.

I scanned the other names on the five-page report I held in my hand. It listed the ex-convicts the foundation had been involved with the past two years. “Five women and nine men had finished serving terms of various lengths.”

Ellen’s eyes glistened, eager as a beagle’s. She leapt into her self-chosen role as the female Watson to my Sherlock Holmes, but she wasn’t him, and Sherlock I was not.

“Ellen, please set up a meeting with Russell ASAP.” I gave her a thumbs-up before tossing my apple core across the room into the wastebasket, a la the amazing Michael Jordan’s slam-dunk.

I headed back to my office. As my desk phone rang, I picked up my pace. “I’ll get it,” I called back in the direction of Ellen.

“Hello. This is Chris Lepsell. Is Jennifer Trevor in?” Her words were quick and clipped.

“Chris, my road rescuing angel, how nice of you to call.” I rifled through some business cards on my desk.

“Jennifer? I expected to have to fight my way through your receptionist.”

“You would have, but she’s away from her desk. How’s your vacation time going?” I scooped to pick up a card I’d dropped.

“Great. I’m between tennis and golf and decided to check up on you. How’s the ankle?”

A memory of pain glinted in my mind. “A little stiff but otherwise doing amazingly well, thanks to my prompt medical treatment. Again, I thank you.” I stacked papers on my desk, regretting a tad I’d picked up the phone. Not that I didn’t want to chat with Chris, just too busy now.

“How’s your friend Lenora?”

“I saw her yesterday—first time since the shooting. She still can’t communicate, but she’s being weaned gradually from the ventilator. They won’t totally remove it until they’re sure she can breathe independently.”

“Not being able to speak must be horrible for a counselor.”

I agreed. “When she’s off the ventilator, I’m hoping she can tell us who tried to kill her.”

“And get out of the hospital with its risk of germs and back home.”

“Actually, I’m concerned if it’s safe for her to return home before her assailant is behind bars.”

“Sounds like you better hurry that up; you’re running out of time.” Chris’ voice sounded robotic to my trained ear, but then she didn’t seem to be a particularly expressive person.

“You’ve got that right. Once she’s home, I don’t envy Tucker. Keeping an independent dynamo like Lenora calm and quiet as she regains her stamina won’t be easy.”

“You’re no slouch yourself. Bruised, bloodied, but back at work.”

“It’s that Puritan work ethic I can’t shake.”

“I’ve the same problem, although, today is no indication. I can handle being a lady of leisure for a few days, then I’m ready to work again. Which is good, by the way, because I’m also attached to three meals a day and a roof to keep off the rain, all of which require a regular paycheck.”

I laughed. “I know the feeling.”

“I can’t complain. My skin is two shades darker than when I met you, courtesy of the spa. I’ve enjoyed every minute. Is there anything I can do to help in your investigation while I’m around? I do investigative stuff in my insurance work. I admit, I’m just a bit bored doing absolutely nothing.”

“How nice of you to offer.” My eyes dropped to my desk, where my right hand rested on the prison list. Funny how you can pick up a little nuance. During the pause in our conversation, Chris’ breathing became uneven as I deliberated, and she waited for my answer. “I’ll keep you in mind, but things are too muddled at this point for me to delegate.”

“You still think the original suspect, Kirk, is innocent?”

“You know his name?” I was startled by Chris’ knowledge and by her question and didn’t try to hide my surprise.

“I read it in the paper. You’d just said he was a reformed convict.”

“In Lenora’s eyes only, may be the case.”

Even though Chris had read about the situation, I couldn’t confide in her. She was virtually a stranger. All I truly knew about her was that she was kind. I closed the call on a positive note. “It’s sweet of you to check up on me, rescuer, but now I must get back to work.”

“Sure. I think it’s cool you’re making this huge effort to help your friend. Keep at it.”

“I will. You’re pretty good at helping people yourself. Sure you’re not an angel, after all?” I joked.

Chris laughed. “No wings last time I looked.”

Ellen entered my office and waved her hand for my attention. “Gotta go. Stay in touch.” I hung up and turned my attention to Ellen. “Have you arranged a meeting with Russell?”