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Luckily there was nobody else in our section of the waiting room. Its walls were a blue pastel, lined with framed prints of native wildflowers. A flat-screen TV played on closed-captioning, and the end tables held outdated magazines. A wall clock told me that we hadn’t been here that long, and the ER doctor had said that my father’s surgery was expected to take several hours. The doctor had declined to speculate on the prognosis, offering only that his condition was critical, and we’d called John’s lawyer to let him know what was going on. Gabby had called Martin, and he was on his way from a medical conference in Baltimore.
I had one arm around my mother and the other around Gabby. My hands were stained with my father’s blood, which dried in nightmare crescents in my fingernails. My clothes were spattered, and so were my mother’s and Gabby’s. They talked and cried, clutching Kleenexes, and I listened to their mother-daughter echoes.
Thank God the ambulance came so fast. That has to help.
It will, Mom. It has to.
There was so much blood.
So much blood.
He didn’t know he was shot.
He was in shock.
The gunshot was so loud.
The crowd thought it was an active shooter.
Suddenly my attention was drawn to the far side of the waiting room, where Detective Willoughby was entering with his partner, Detective Balleu. I’d assumed they’d show up sooner or later. Their expressions were grim and professional as they made a beeline for us, and I remembered that the last time I’d seen them, they’d questioned me as a suspect in Lemaire’s death.
I shifted position and got ready to meet them, come what may.
•••
Detective Willoughby sat opposite us with his plastic folder and fresh legal pad open on his lap. Detective Balleu was in the chair next to him, legs crossed, with a skinny notepad.
“Marie and Gabby, good to see you.” Detective Willoughby slid out his Cross pen from its holder. “Please accept our apologies for having to intrude at this difficult time. We have some preliminary questions. The rest can wait until later.”
“Thank you,” I answered for us.
“We understand that John is in federal custody. That’s not our jurisdiction, nor is it why we’re here.” Detective Willoughby glanced at my mother, then Gabby. “We’re all pulling for Paul. He has so many friends on the force. Your family’s been a supporter for a long time.”
“Thank you.” My mother dabbed her eye with a Kleenex.
“We’re beginning our investigation into what happened to Paul.” Detective Willoughby turned to Gabby and me, nodding solemnly. “Of course we’ll investigate the assaults on both of you. We have uniformed officers at the scene right now, taking statements from eyewitnesses and collecting film and other evidence. The district attorney and his office are committed to getting to the bottom of what happened today at Hessian Post Plaza.”
“Good.” My mother sniffled. “Thank you.”
Detective Willoughby faced me. “TJ, my first questions are for you. We can discuss it here or elsewhere in private. Your choice.”
“Here is fine,” I told him. My mother nodded, and so did Gabby.
“We have Denver Mortensen and Viktor Solkov in custody.”
“Is that the man who tried to kill me? Viktor Solkov? I shot him in the leg.”
Detective Willoughby hesitated. “Yes, but that’s confidential information—”
“Well, I was there, so it’s not confidential from me. I gave his gun to a uniformed officer at the scene. Did you get it?”
“Yes, it’s in our custody, bagged as evidence.”
“Is Solkov talking? I assume he was working with Mortensen, but who were they working for at Fournette Labs? Why did they want us dead? It had to be because of the lawsuit. It has to go high up.”
Detective Willoughby pursed his lips. “I’m sorry, I’m not at liberty to discuss the matter with you. We’ve just begun our investigation.As soon as we’re able to let you know, we will. We’re aware that you’ve all been through the mill, and I apologize for adding to your burden at this difficult time.” Detective Willoughby frowned. “Can you explain briefly to us what happened? If you outline the basics, we can take a more detailed statement later.”
I launched into an explanation, telling as much as I could without compromising John’s defense. My mother and Gabby listened raptly, and I made quick work of the summary. It was hard to function normally with my father in surgery. Detective Willoughby and Balleu took notes as I spoke, putting me in the bizarro-world position of being an authority to the authorities.
