Fallen (3 page)

“Lydia,” Mateo called in greeting as she walked toward them on her way back to the ER. He stepped forward, wrapping her in a bear hug.

“It’s good to see you, Mateo. How are Evie and Carlos?”

“They’re great. You should give Evie a call sometime. She’s working part time now that Carlos is in kindergarten. You should see him. Riding his bike around, no training wheels like a real daredevil—”

He stopped, an awkward silence replacing his words. Ryan was familiar with the uncomfortable pauses. He knew Lydia was, too, although he still saw the faint shadow of pain in her eyes. But her smile was genuine as she touched Mateo’s arm. “Give them both my love, okay?”

“How is he, Lydia?” Ryan asked, halting her exit. He’d noticed she had changed her scrubs since he had seen her taking Nate upstairs, trading the blue, bloodstained ones for mint green.

She shook her head and lowered her voice. “Not good. One of the bullets lodged in the left chamber of his heart. He has a bowel perforation and damage to his spinal cord. He’s still in surgery. It’s touch and go right now.”

“What about Kristen?”

They glanced back into the room. A woman Ryan guessed was Kristen’s sister had taken the seat Lydia had vacated.

“She’s beating herself up pretty badly,” Lydia said. “She and Nate had been fighting on the phone.”

Her beeper went off again. She checked it with a soft sigh. “I have to get back. I’ll check in again soon.”

She turned and went down the hallway. He watched as she waited several seconds in front of the elevator, then took the stairwell when it didn’t arrive.

“Christ. Sorry, man,” Mateo offered, looking repentant. “My mouth’s two steps ahead of my brain.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Ryan pretended not to feel Mateo’s gaze on him, evaluating his reaction to seeing Lydia again. The truth was, he
did
see her from time to time. She came by the house on occasion to drop off insulin and syringes for Max, their eleven-year-old diabetic tabby that had stayed with him in the Inman Park bungalow after the divorce. And he’d called her a few times, mostly regarding some leftover business aspect of their marriage—tax payments, mail ending up at the wrong address. Mostly, though, he had wanted to hear her voice.

“Spinal cord damage,” Mateo said in disbelief.

All cops considered the possibility of being taken down in gunfire—during a robbery, a hostage standoff, a violent domestic disturbance. But Nate had been shot in the parking garage of his own building, apparently caught off guard while waiting for the elevator to take him upstairs for the night. A place where he’d believed he was safe. Ryan thought about the last time he had seen Nate. He’d been outside the precinct house yesterday afternoon, involved in a tense conversation on his cell phone. Nate had seemed antsy, nervous, and he had stopped speaking altogether when he noticed Ryan within earshot, on his way to grab some lunch.

You do that and I’ll fucking kill you.

It was the one thing Ryan had clearly heard Nate say. He wondered now to whom he’d been talking.

Chapter Two

“
I thought I
should tell you first. You know most of them out there.”

Lydia stood inside the surgery suite with Dr. Rick Varek, head of cardiothoracic medicine.

“What happened?” she asked.

He sighed, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. He wore scrubs, and he’d removed his surgical cap, although his mask still hung around his neck. “The bullet basically ripped up the left ventricle, leading to pericardial effusion and cardiac tamponade. We administered electric shock and internal compressions longer than we probably should have.”

Rick peered at her. “You okay, Lydia?”

She nodded, not speaking. It would be impossible to explain what she was feeling. Seeing the gathered police, the situation in general, it had all touched a raw nerve.

“Who do I need to speak to?”

“His wife, Kristen. His mother’s there, too. She’s elderly, Rick. In her seventies—”

“I’ll use my best bedside manner,” he said seriously.

“I’ll go in with you. My shift’s over. I just need to sign out downstairs.”

Lydia began to walk away, but he caught her hand, pulling her back toward him. “You’re off tomorrow. I checked the schedule.”

She shook her head faintly in hesitation. “Rick …”

“There’s a new restaurant in Phipps Plaza that’s getting great reviews.” He smiled charmingly. “I was thinking we could have dinner tomorrow night, then go see the new Renoir exhibit at the High Museum—”

“It’s not a good time. I mean, with Nate and everything,” Lydia explained. She felt guilty using Nate’s death as an excuse, but she wasn’t up to agreeing to a night out, not now. She and Rick had been on a handful of dates, and so far he had respected her request to take things slowly. She’d accepted his invitations, primarily because she knew it was something she
should
do. Get on with her life. At least, everyone kept telling her so. She was thirty-six and not getting any younger, as her little sister, Natalie, had bluntly pointed out to her over the phone just yesterday. Most of the female physicians and nursing staff considered Rick Varek a catch— refined, successful, a highly respected surgeon at the top of his field. A few of the ER nurses thought he looked a little like Richard Gere.

“I understand.” Rick seemed to take her refusal in stride. He indicated the darkened operating room where Nate’s body remained. “I can tell you’re upset, Lydia. You knew the deceased well?”

“Through police functions. It’s a pretty close-knit group—”

“He’s out there, isn’t he? Your ex-husband?” Her face must have given him his answer, because he added, “I thought so.”

Rick turned and pushed through the swinging doors that led deeper into the suite. “I’ll get an intern started on closing the chest. The family will want to see him. Go sign out, Lydia. Then we’ll talk to them together. It’s going to be a tough crowd. I can use your help.”

Five minutes later, they walked down the corridor and into the swell of midnight-blue uniforms. The horde parted, the hum of conversation dying as Lydia and Rick moved toward the waiting room. As she went past, her eyes locked with Ryan’s. She saw his jaw clench and he cupped the back of his neck, his shoulders slumping under his blue dress shirt.

He knew her too well, could tell by her expression the news she had come to deliver, Lydia realized.

She felt the almost possessive touch of Rick’s fingers against the small of her back as they entered the space where Kristen Weisz now sat with her mother-in-law. A spate of other family members—siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles, Lydia guessed—had also arrived. Her face paling at their appearance, Kristen reached for her mother-in-law’s finely veined hand.

“Is Nate going to be okay?” a man asked, stepping forward to take charge. He bore a resemblance to Nate, similar dark hair and eyes, and was probably his brother. Lydia felt the hard beat of her heart inside her chest.

She closed the door to the room. “This is Dr. Varek, head of cardiothoracic medicine. He operated on Nate.”

Lydia sank onto the vacant chair on the other side of Kristen, who had begun to weep softly. Rick took the seat facing them. He leaned forward, his hands templed together between his knees.

“As you know, Nate arrived in the ER with three gunshot wounds, two to his chest and one to his abdomen,” he explained gently. “In surgery, we found extensive damage …”

Empathy welling inside her, Lydia felt tears threaten behind her eyes. She held a box of tissues out to Kristen as Rick continued. “The injury to the left side of his heart was especially bad. We performed CPR with internal paddles for over forty minutes—”

“I don’t understand,” Nate’s mother interjected. She looked around at the faces of her family, frightened and confused.

“Just tell us!” Kristen sobbed, turning to Lydia. “Please, I can’t take this!”

Lydia swallowed hard and placed her hand on Kristen’s thigh. She hated this part of her job, and her personal involvement this time made it especially difficult. It also brought back painful memories she worked hard, every day, to push aside. Her trained mind reminded her to be direct and concise.

Still, her voice shook. “I’m so sorry. Nate died.”

*

The group had begun to disperse, everyone leaving for their homes or to have a solemn drink together in Nate’s memory before the downtown bars stopped serving at two a.m. A few others had filtered down to the hospital lobby to hear the chief of police’s statement to the waiting media, sound bites that would be the top story on the news. Ryan was one of the few who had remained behind, wanting to talk to Lydia before meeting up with Mateo at the crime scene in Nate’s parking garage. For now, she was still behind the closed doors of the waiting room with Nate’s family and a member of the police chaplaincy unit.

“Detective Winter?”

The surgeon who had gone into the room with Lydia strode toward him. He was dignified looking, probably in his early fifties, with a full head of graying hair and designer wire-rimmed glasses.

“I’m Dr. Varek.” He extended his hand, and Ryan shook it. “I performed the surgery on Detective Weisz. We did our best. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Ryan nodded. “Thank you.”

“Despite the unfortunate circumstances, I wanted to take the opportunity to meet you and introduce myself.” Varek smiled congenially. “Lydia and I have become good friends. You should know she speaks very highly of you. High praise from the ex. That’s unusual in cases of divorce, don’t you think?”

“I suppose so.” Ryan felt tension creep into his shoulders. The nuanced wording hadn’t escaped him. Varek had said
good friends
, not colleagues or co-workers. He’d also noticed his hand on Lydia’s back as they’d entered the waiting room.

“You’re new?” he asked casually. “Because I used to know most of Lydia’s co-workers.”

“I’m the new head of cardiothoracic medicine. I moved here to take the position a few months ago. I was on staff at Mass Gen previously.” Varek shifted slightly, allowing two uniformed officers to pass by them in the hallway. “Lydia’s been invaluable in helping me get acclimated to the staff here, as well as a new city. Atlanta’s a universe away from Boston. She’s an exceptional trauma doctor and a good person, but I’m sure you know that.”

He paused heavily before adding, “I’m also aware she’s had to deal with her share of tragedy. You both have.”

Ryan’s throat tightened, but he met Varek’s gaze. “We’ve gotten through it.”

The surgeon’s eyes were sympathetic. Just then, the hospital’s intercom system sent out a page for him. “I’m afraid I have to go. Nice to finally meet you, Detective Winter.”

As Varek traveled away, Ryan couldn’t help but feel defensive and territorial. But at the same time he knew he had no right to be. The divorce had been final for nearly a year. Who Lydia spent time with, who she confided in about her personal life, was no longer his business. He wondered if she and Varek were really just good friends or if he had used the phrase as a euphemism for something more. It was an unsettling thought.

We’ve gotten through it.

It had been a poor choice of words. It was true they’d both survived Tyler’s death, had managed to go on breathing and living somehow, but they hadn’t gotten through it
together.

The loss had torn them apart.

Ryan stared at the closed waiting room door. He wasn’t sure if waiting to see Lydia was such a good idea, after all. In the end, it would probably only do him more harm than good. He had begun walking down the hallway when he heard her call his name. Stopping, he waited for her to catch up to him.

“Kristen’s going to stay with family for a while,” she said, falling in step beside him.

“That’s good. She doesn’t need to go back to their place alone right now.”

“No,” Lydia agreed.

“Thanks for being there for her.” He pushed the button as they reached the elevator.

“How’s Mike?” she asked, referring to Nate’s partner.

“Pretty broken up. He left a little while ago. He’s being put on paid leave for a while. It’s department protocol when something like this happens.”

She looked at him, concerned. “What about you, Ryan? Are you all right? You knew Nate pretty well.”

He felt grief as well as anger spark inside him. “I just want to find the bastard who did this.”

“Is it your investigation?”

“I wasn’t assigned to the crime scene tonight.” Initially, however, it hadn’t been a homicide. “No matter who catches the case, the entire force is going to want to take part. I’m going now to meet Mateo at Nate’s condo building.”

The elevator opened, and they stepped inside. He asked, “What floor?”

“Two.”

He selected the second floor and then the lobby. “It’s the second cop shooting in six weeks.”

“I know,” Lydia replied solemnly. As the primary public hospital downtown and a top-rated trauma center, most police injuries passed through Mercy’s ER doors.

Ryan looked at her before saying, “I like the new style.”