Malevolent (Lieutenant Kane series Book 1) (25 page)

He glanced up at me, his face red with pain. He looked as if he was about to say something but stopped before the words came out. I took a seat a few chairs away from him.

We sat quietly for over an hour, waiting for someone to give us news, any news. No one came.

Bridgeman broke the silence. “You want a coffee? I’m going to the cafeteria.”

I nodded, and he walked off. I assumed the coffee to be a peace offering. Hank walked through the front doors of the emergency wing’s entrance a few minutes later.

He spotted me waiting and came over. “Any news?”

I shook my head. “Still waiting. What about the scene? What did you guys come up with?”

“Forensics bagged and tagged everything. We haven’t found Cross. He wasn’t in the area. His face is all over every news channel, and every cop in a hundred-mile radius is on the lookout. It’s just a matter of time.”

Bridgeman walked back up, carrying two cups of coffee. He handed one to me and gave Hank a nod. Then he went and sat down out of earshot.

“How’s Bridgeman dealing with all this?”

“He’s just concerned about Samantha. We had a talk right when he got here. I think we’re on the same page now.”

Hank nodded.

A doctor approached from down the hall. I stood to greet him.

“I’m Doctor Anderson. You the officer inquiring about Samantha Bridgeman?” he asked.

“Lieutenant Carl Kane.” Bridgeman walked over from the waiting area. “This is her husband, here. What can you tell us?”

“Well, she appears to be sedated with something. When they brought her in, the sutures on the sides of her head were still seeping blood.”

“Sutures?” Bridgeman interrupted. He stared at me.

The doctor nodded and continued. “The sutures were fresh. We cut them away. I inspected the area and, well, I don’t even know how to say this. Someone performed an operation on her brain.”

“A what!” Bridgeman shouted.

Cross had lobotomized my ex-wife. Bridgeman went into a rage. He hurled questions at the doctor, spewed threats at me. I tuned him out and got the doctor’s attention.

“How bad was the damage to her brain?” I asked.

“It’s hard to tell. She’s still under the influence of whatever she was sedated with. She’s on an IV right now to flush her system. We’ll have a better idea of her condition in the next few hours.”

As soon as the doctor finished telling me about Samantha, I felt an impact and pain on the left side of my face. Bridgeman, the little weasel, had blindsided me with a punch when I wasn’t looking. I turned to face him. Hank took him to the ground before I could react. The doctor took a few steps back to remove himself from the flying bodies. Hank pulled Bridgeman’s right arm way up behind his back and put a cuff on him.

Bridgeman yelped in pain when Hank pulled up his other arm.

“Hank,” I said.

Hank clicked the second cuff around his wrist and got off Bridgeman’s back.

“Assaulting an officer. Real smart,” Hank said.

Bridgeman grunted and groaned, lying on the cold hospital floor.

“Hank, take the cuffs off him.”

“He just sucker punched you.”

“Just take them off.”

Hank put a knee in the small of Bridgeman’s back and unhooked him. He put his face down next to Bridgeman’s head. “One more swing, asshole, and I’m arresting your dumb ass. I don’t care what he says.” Hank stood and walked into the waiting area.

Bridgeman pulled himself to his feet. He turned to the doctor. “Can I see my wife?”

“Not yet. I’ll let you know when you can. Are you guys going to be all right here?”

I nodded.

I stood at the windows overlooking the hospital’s parking lot. Hank sat a few feet away, thumbing through a magazine.

Half an hour passed before the doctor came back.

I walked up. “How is she?”

“The effects of the sedative are starting to wear off. She spoke her name when asked. She stumbled with some of the other questions and tests. It’s too soon to tell if her mental state is impaired from being drugged or the damage to the brain itself. We have a neurosurgeon on his way. As soon as he gets here, we’ll have to get her into surgery to fix the damage to her skull. I can let you see her now if it’s quick.” Doctor Anderson motioned for us to follow and headed down the hall.

Marty looked back at me when I didn’t start walking. “Are you coming?”

I shook my head. I didn’t want to see her again in that state. They walked off.

Hank came to my side. “Hey, that’s good news. She spoke.”

I let out a deep breath. “It’s my fault she’s here in the first place.”

“No, it’s not. Why is it your fault? Because you used to be married to her?”

“I should have recognized that he was going after her sooner.”

“Okay, by that logic, we should have caught him after the first woman or when he sat right in front of us at the station. Don’t start thinking like that. We’ll get him. He’ll pay for this.”

“You’re right. He will pay.”

Hank left when Marty came back from seeing Samantha. Marty told me she’d recognized him and asked what happened. The neurosurgeon arrived around seven o’clock, and they took her into surgery. A few minutes after ten o’clock, Doctor Anderson met Marty and me in the waiting room.

“Well?” Marty asked.

“The surgery went well. We just moved her into the ICU for recovery.”

“What did the surgeon say about the damage to her brain?” I asked.

“He spotted lacerations in the white matter of her prefrontal lobes.”

“What does that mean? She’s going to live, right?” Marty asked.

“She will. Now, with this kind of brain damage, I have to inform you that she may suffer some long-term effects.”

“Long-term effects?” Marty asked.

“Motor skills, speech, cognitive ability. These are all things that might have been affected. I say
might have
because, unfortunately, we won’t know the extent of the damage until she recovers.”

“When can I see her?” Marty asked.

“It will be a while. She needs to rest—six to eight hours minimum. Someone will inform you when you can go in. You’re more than welcome to wait here.”

“Thank you, Doctor Anderson,” I said.

The doctor nodded and walked to the nurse’s station.

“Leave, Kane,” Marty said.

“Excuse me?”

“You can’t do anything here. I’ll call you if there are any changes. Find him.”

I wasn’t going to argue with him. He had a point—I could do nothing at the hospital to help her or find Cross. I walked out the front doors toward the unmarked cruiser I’d come in. I pulled my cell from my pocket. It showed two voicemails and two text messages. I went through them as I walked. The two text messages had come from my sister. She wanted to know what was going on. The first voicemail had come from the captain. He wanted me to call him, no matter how late. I hit the callback button, and he picked up within a few rings.

“How’s Samantha?” he asked.

I entered the parking structure and walked toward the car. “She’s out of surgery. They can’t tell us the extent of the damage for a while.”

“Hank said she spoke?”

“Yeah. She recognized her husband. I guess that’s a good thing. Anything on Cross?”

“The feds that came in to help are now tracking all credit-card and bank activity from Dan Ellison. They’ll be at the station in the morning for a meeting.”

“What’s going on with Ellison?”

“We dug into him pretty good. He’s clean. There’s nothing that connects him to Cross. We kicked him loose.”

“Okay.”

“Do you need a couple days, Kane?”

“No, I’ll be there tomorrow morning for the meeting.”

“You sure? If you need the time, take it.”

“I said I’ll be there.” I unlocked the cruiser with its keychain fob.

“We’ll find him. It’s just a matter of time. His photo is everywhere.”

“In that matter of time, who knows how many others he’ll attack or kill?” I got into the car. “I’m going to drop this car back at the station. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“When you get back to the station, park the cruiser, get in your car, and leave. Don’t go inside. You’ll end up sitting there all night, looking over the file. Go home and get some sleep. It’s an order.”

“Fine. See you tomorrow.” I hung up.

I swapped cars at the station and pulled the Mustang into my building’s underground parking lot a few minutes later. The elevator had an Out of Order sign taped to it. It was the second time in as many days that it had broken. I walked up the five flights of stairs to my condo and unlocked the door. The jingling of Butch’s bell grew louder as he ran to the door. I wasn’t in the mood for a leg thrashing. I reached down and picked him up before he began his attack. He seemed surprised. I walked in and kicked the door closed behind me. Butch didn’t claw or try to get away. He just stared at me as I carried him to the kitchen. I set him down on the breakfast bar and gave him a pat on the head. “Good cat.”

He turned in a circle and ducked his head into me for another pet.
Hmm… Probably should have tried that before.

I walked room to room in my condo to make sure I was alone. Cross was holed up somewhere. My condo wasn’t out of the question for a place he could have chosen. I got back to the kitchen and tossed everything from my pockets onto the counter. The voicemail light on my phone was still flashing from the last message I hadn’t listened to. I hit the button to play the message. It was from Callie, reminding me of our date.

Shit. I have to call her to cancel.

I looked at the number she had called me from—Lefty’s. I recognized the number from having called in takeout orders in the past. I dialed it. Within five or six rings, their message played with the hours and specials. She was probably busy. On Saturday nights, the place drew a decent crowd. I glanced over at the clock—10:49 p.m. A walk to the bar might clear my head. I’d talk with Callie and explain what was going on. She would understand, I hoped. I changed, grabbed my wallet, and headed out.

The night air was thick with humidity. I walked slowly, thinking only about Sam.

I walked into Lefty’s twenty minutes later. As I’d assumed, the place was packed. An end spot at the bar opened, and I took a seat. Callie was working the other end, and another bartender was taking orders over by the pool table. I sat and waited. She spotted me and came over.

“Hey, handsome. Couldn’t wait until tomorrow huh? Beer? Food?”

I smiled and thought for a second. I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten, but I didn’t have an appetite. “Just a beer, I guess. Do you have a couple minutes to talk?”

She poured me a beer from the tap and set it on a coaster in front of me. She let out a sigh. “That sounds like an
I’m about to bail on tomorrow
talk. Give me a couple minutes to grab some drinks for the guys at the end of the bar. I’m about due for a break here, anyway.”

I nodded. She left to do her rounds.

She came back a few minutes later and slid herself in between my chair and the wall. “Okay, talk to me,” she said.

I laid out the whole story for her—Cross, him breaking into my house, what he had done to Samantha, everything. She hit me with a barrage of questions. She asked if Samantha was going to be all right. I told her that I didn’t know. She asked if I’d be all right. I shrugged. She asked if there was anything she could do. We talked for almost a half hour. She gave me her number in case I just wanted to talk. She wrote it on a napkin and drew a little heart. I jammed it into my pocket. She told me the invitation for dinner was open ended. She understood. Callie gave me a hug and apologized for having to get back to work. I ordered another beer.

He wasn’t planning on running into Kane. Bob had figured that was the last place he’d be tonight though it didn’t appear he was there to drink away his sorrows. The lieutenant took small sips from his beer. He seemed to be waiting on something. Bob scooted his chair farther back into the corner and tugged his hat down a little lower. He had buzzed his hair short and cut his beard off. A store up the street provided some clothes that would be more suitable on someone twenty years younger. The tools and lingerie were in a black backpack at the side of his chair. The cop’s gun was tucked into his waistband.

A few groups of people sitting between them obscured his view of Kane. Bob made it look as though he was trying to watch the small television at that end of the bar. The woman bartender that had been serving him squeezed herself in next to Kane. She leaned in close and talked to him. They were closer than acquaintances would get. From what Bob could see, she looked concerned. She rubbed Kane’s shoulder. They talked for at least twenty minutes before she left Kane’s side and went back to taking orders from around the room. Bob grabbed a beer from the other bartender on her last round through, but the place was almost empty. He needed to pay and leave before he was spotted.

The bartender that had talked to Kane walked up. “Need another beer? Same thing?”

Bob swished the last remaining beer around in the bottle. “I think I’m good. Just the bill, I guess.”

She flashed him a smile. “You guess? Or are you sure? Half-price drinks run for another half hour.”

Bob smiled back and looked over at Kane. The lieutenant’s attention was focused on the television. “You know, what the hell—one more.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back with your beer.”

“Thanks.” Bob watched her walk away. The girl rounded the bar and said a few words to Kane. A few minutes later, she came back through the room with a tray, delivering the drinks.

She finished with Bob, dropping off his beer. “There you go, hon. Need anything else?”

“Just the check. Let me pick up the lieutenant’s over there, too.”

“You know Kane?”

Bob took a pull from his beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “No. Just recognize him from the television and papers. Seems like a good guy trying to do his part to keep the city safe and all that. Man, that’s terrible what that guy the police are after is doing. Have you seen that?”

She nodded. “One second, let me get those tabs.” She looked through the receipts from her back pocket. She placed the two bills before him.