Chasing Adonis (12 page)

“Uncomplicated, thank God. The ear and throat infection
finally cleared up. And I notice he doesn’t cry himself to sleep anymore.”

“No. It took about four months, but Dr. Stein and I finally
managed to convince him that his father could never hurt him. It was a real
breakthrough. For all of us.”

“I’ll bet.” Her lips disappeared in a tight grimace.

“What?”

She shook her head, her mouth clamped shut.

“What?” he insisted.

“Life moves on, doesn’t it?” Her voice sounded so small,
like a child confessing to some minor transgression.

“It has to, Mom.”

“I know. I sit in the living room, and I watch the parents
riding bikes with their kids or taking a stroll with the family dog after
dinner. And I want to warn them to squeeze every drop out of the time they’re
given with those they love.

“Do you remember Donna Lewis from across the street? Her
little girl is walking already. It seems like only yesterday Donna was a little
girl herself. Everywhere I look, time keeps moving forward. But not for me.”

“Did you call Hank Sherwood at L.V.O.M.?”

“Not yet.”

His breath escaped in a sigh. “Mom, he’s expecting your
call. The Living Victims of Murder can help you. That’s what they’re there for.
Hank started the organization when an overzealous boyfriend killed his sister
ten years ago. Do you remember that case? The perp said the victim liked rough
sex, and he went a little overboard while trying to please her. Still leaves a
bad taste in my mouth all these years later. Anyway, Hank wanted a group that
would help to toughen murder penalties, speak for the victims, and assist those
left behind with adjusting to life
after
a heinous crime has destroyed
their families. You can’t go on like this. Cassia wouldn’t want you to give up
on your life because hers is over.”

She buried her face behind her hands. “I try, Shane. Really,
I do. It’s just so hard…”

Shane rose to touch his mother’s shoulders, lending her
support and comfort. “It’ll get better. I promise. Call Hank in the morning,
okay?”

She placed a hand over Shane’s and squeezed gently. “You
know, it’s time you found yourself a wife.”

“Don’t start on that again. I’m not getting married. Not now,
not ever.”

“You will. You just haven’t met the right girl yet.”

His thoughts inadvertently turned to Adara Berros. If he
ever did consider marriage, she’d be the type he’d fall for. Smart, pretty—no,
downright beautiful was more like it—and gutsy. But he shook his head
emphatically, scattering such nonsense out of his brain cells.

“Even if I met Ms. Right, I wouldn’t marry her. Life is too
precarious, especially in my line of work. Look what happened to Kevin. Goes to
answer a simple call and winds up dead in a gas station. He left behind a wife
and two little girls under the age of six.” He sat down in the chair and
reached for his coffee. “Next time, it could be me. And if I’m going to die in
the line of duty, I don’t want it to affect anyone else’s life.”

“Pshaw! What about your father? He was on the police force
for twenty-five years. And he died at home in his bed.”

“The job is different now, Mom.”

“I hardly see how. Yes, there are bigger, more rapid-firing
guns, but you also have vests, which your father and his cronies did not.”

“There is no precedence in death. Just because Dad died of a
heart attack at home doesn’t mean that’s how I’ll go. I could walk out this
door and be shot down on the porch.”

Mom hastily crossed herself. “God forbid. You’re just being
foolish, Shane. You think if you don’t get married that your death won’t affect
anyone? What about me? What about your coworkers and your friends? You think
none of them will mourn you?”

“Not the way a wife and children might.”

“What about Tyler? You’re responsible for his wellbeing now,
too. You and I both know that boy needs more than you can offer him. He needs a
mother.”

“He needs a loving parent. It doesn’t matter if that parent
is a mother or a father.”

“Oh, Shane, take off the detective outfit, and see the boy
as he really is. Tyler needs
two
parents. He needs security. You and a
one hour appointment twice a week with Dr. Stein are not enough.”

“So, what do you expect me to do? Marry the first available
woman that comes along?”

“No, silly. I expect you to live your life, not run away
from it on the off chance something terrible might happen to you someday. You
can’t hide from misfortune. Don’t shut yourself up in some invisible bubble.
It’s no way to live.”

The moment she finished speaking, her eyes widened, and
Shane smiled. She’d finally seen the light. “That goes for you too, doesn’t it,
Mom?”

“I-I guess so,” she murmured.

He leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “Go to bed. I’m
going to check on Tyler, and then I’ll sleep in my old room tonight, if that’s
okay.”

She nodded absentmindedly, as if still digesting her own
lecture.

“Mom? Go to bed. Later this morning is time enough to figure
out how to find your way back to the living. Come on.”

He helped her to her feet and walked with her down the
hallway, past the framed photographs of himself and Cassia at different stages
of their lives. Each picture flashed across his brain in a slow moving parade,
beginning with their hospital photos as infants, through elementary school, high
school yearbook photos in caps and gowns, his graduation from the police
academy, and wham! There it was.

Her wedding picture. Cassia, alone, standing in a
flower-filled garden, one arm outstretched to hold her veil away from her
innocent, shining face, pink and blue bridesmaid’s bouquets arranged artfully
around the hem of her ruffled gown. Her dreamy eyes held such joy, so much
promise. Why couldn’t her reality match her dream?

Shaking off the unfairness of it all, he squeezed his
mother’s hand one last time, whispered, “Good night,” and headed into Cassia’s
old bedroom, the first door on the right, where Tyler now slept. He stayed in
the doorway; Dr. Stein had repeatedly warned Shane not to sneak up on the boy.
Terror still lived inside his skinny frame, and the slightest surprise could
jolt him into a screaming jag lasting for hours.

While Shane watched, Tyler kicked the blankets off his legs,
and his toy dinosaur fell to the floor. He had to resist the urge to sweep
inside and place it by the child’s moonlit cheek. The years hurtled away, and
suddenly, he saw Cassia sleeping there, her latest fashion doll sharing the
space Tyler reserved for his velvety stegosaurus.

He should have protected her, should have seen the monster
that lurked beneath Frank’s mask of overt concern and loving regard. But Frank
always seemed to have Cassia’s best interests at heart. And Cassia, daughter of
one police detective, sister to another, quickly became adept at hiding the
telltale bruises indicative of a battered woman.

His hands balled into tight fists until his fingernails dug
painfully into his palms. Dammit, he was a detective. A good one, if his C.O.
could be believed. So why hadn’t he seen the signs of violence affecting his
own sister? The sudden cancelled family dinners, the long sleeves and
turtlenecks she took to wearing, the guarded look in her eyes whenever Frank
was around. In a stranger, he would have immediately suspected spousal abuse.
But it never occurred to him that such a horror could have visited Cassia’s
life.

Not until the day she filed for the order of protection. And
the minute Frank received notification of that little beauty, he drove to the
house, pistol in hand and blew a hole into Cassia’s chest, then put it in his
own mouth and pulled the trigger.

Poor Tyler! Terrified out of his wits, he still managed to
remember the script that Cassia had made him practice since he first learned to
answer the phone. Dial 911 and tell the operator, “My name is Tyler Winslow. I
am five years old, and I live at 43 Angel Drive in Oldetown. My mommy and daddy
need an ambulance.”

To this day, the memory of that childish voice spewing the
lines in a robotic fashion shook him to his socks. Forcing the sound out of his
ears, he turned and headed into his old bedroom down the hall. Another
sleepless night awaited him there.

Chapter Eleven

The following morning, Shane checked in at the precinct to
fill out some paperwork before taking the hour-long drive to Hampton Hospital.
It always amused him that the detectives in movies and television shows never
filed a single report. Any real officer would be happy to tell those misguided
writers that paperwork in the police business waited for no man.

“I should know better than to underestimate you by now,”
Commander Stewart said in lieu of good morning. “Nice catch on the Berros case.
Have you found anything to link Pha to Cherry yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Consider it your number one priority now. You and Lou will
work hand in hand on this. And I want to be informed of every step you take in
this investigation. You moved Ms. Berros out of College Hospital?”

“Soon as Lou made the connection, I had her transferred to
Hampton under an assumed name.”

“Good thinking. How long do you think she’ll be there?”

Shane took a sip of the tepid coffee sitting on his desk and
grimaced. The acidic liquid scraped his stomach’s lining. “At least a coupla
weeks. She’s got a fractured ankle, so she won’t be going anywhere for a
while.”

“Better start thinking ahead, though. It’ll be an even
longer while before Cherry’s retrial hits the docket. Have you thought about
what you’ll do with her once she’s released?”

“We’ll have to find a safe house for her. Any ideas?”

Jake shook his head. “But I’ll look into it right away. On
the up side, we managed to get a clear set of fingerprints out of Becky’s car
and set a listening device in Pha’s new apartment.”

Shane couldn’t hide his surprise. “H-how?”

“Why do you think I sent Becky running after you yesterday
afternoon?”

“You planted her?”

“Of course. Becky said you were pretty upset about the way
the interrogation went. I tried to minimize the damage.” He shrugged. “I
figured, if we can’t get anything out of him face to face, we still might be
able to work the back end of things. Sometimes, a little surveillance goes a
long way. Then, if we get a fingerprint hit or a confession on tape, we can
bring Pha in. Becky was pretty eager to get involved, though she wanted to put
on a fresh face and more feminine shoes before she followed you two.” He rolled
his eyes. “Something about that guy has every female in the precinct going
gaga. Personally, I don’t see the attraction.”

Neither could Shane, but he knew better than to interrupt
his commander just to agree with him.

“Anyway, Lou’s running the prints now. Hopefully, he’ll get
a match.”

“Ten bucks says he comes up empty,” Shane muttered.

“What makes you say that?”

“The way this case has been going so far. Nothing is as it
seems. Trust me.”

“Yeah, well, you let Lou and me handle things on this end.
In the meantime, head down to the hospital and keep an eye on our witness. What
name have you got her under, anyway?”

“Harris, Rose Harris.”

Jake grinned. “Good one. Sounds like a little old lady.”

“So long as it keeps Pha away.”

~~~~

In Shane’s opinion, the grim-faced attending doctor at
Hampton Hospital looked like he’d missed his true calling, the mortuary. His
pale gray eyes flicked in serpentine rhythm as he announced in a frigid tone,
“We’re releasing Ms. Harris this afternoon.”

Shane stared, slack-jawed, stunned into silence.

“There’s absolutely no reason to keep her,” Dr. Killjoy
continued. “I removed her cast this morning.”

After several swallows, he found his voice. “She healed from
her fracture already?”

“That’s the thing, Detective. There was no fracture. No
plate, no screws. I had the x-rays taken twice just to be sure. Looks like
someone over at College mixed up her files with another patient’s.”

Heather! The dizzy nurse’s name flashed into his head
automatically. If anyone at the hospital had responsibility for a screw-up, it
would be everyone’s favorite space princess. But could she really have done
something so mindless?

“Thank God there was no major damage done to Ms. Harris,” the
doctor continued. “I can only hope that the patient who really belongs to those
x-rays wasn’t denied proper medical treatment because of this snafu.”

“What about the rib fractures?”

“No evidence of them, either.”

“Is it possible she just healed quickly?”

A bushy silver eyebrow rose. “In twenty-four hours? Not
likely, Detective. Although, that’s what I’ve told her happened. No sense in
opening up a malpractice suit.”

Was that all this guy cared about? A potential lawsuit?
“Have you told her she’s being discharged?”

“Not yet. She probably assumes it, though. After all, she’s
walking around in her room unfettered—no IV’s, no cast, no medical equipment of
any kind—not even crutches. I expect any minute now she’ll ask when she’s
getting out.”

Damn. Now what the hell was he supposed to do with her?

“Thanks, Doc.”
Thanks for making my job ten times worse
.

Missing the sarcasm in Shane’s tone, the doctor nodded and
walked off toward the nurse’s station.

A thoroughly defeated Shane headed back to the lobby for a quick
phone call to his commander.

“We’ve got a problem,” he said the minute Jake answered. “I
need a safe house for Ms. Berros
now
.”

“Now? What do you mean now?” Jake barked. “You said she
wouldn’t be getting out for a while.”

“Yeah, well, her doctor’s saying otherwise. He plans to
release her sometime today. Have we got anything available?”