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I felt better after the hot shower, though a lovely pattern of bruising was beginning to show from where the seat belt had been. I dressed in jeans and a PD T-shirt and then came back out to the kitchen.
I laughed when I saw the white box on the kitchen table. “Did you drive code 3 to the donut shop?”
He glowered at me, but his eyes were dancing. “You don’t have shit to eat in this house.”
I snagged a chocolate donut out of the box, groaning softly when I realized they were still warm. “I seem to recall mentioning that. I’ve discovered that it’s a great way to lose weight.” I took a bite, savoring the rush of sugar and fat and everything else that was bad about a donut.
Ryan laughed. “Dear God, you look like you’re having an orgasm.”
“No, this is much better. Can you give me a ride to the PD? I need to check out a new vehicle. Jill said she’d come get me when I was ready, but since you’re here, I’ll impose on you instead.”
“Sure thing. What about your gun and phone and everything else?”
I scowled. “Well, once I get the car, then I can go to the cell-phone place and get a new phone, and then go to the gun shop and buy a new gun.” Beaulac PD didn’t issue duty gear or guns. Officers were allowed to purchase their own as long as it was on the list of approved firearms. Nice in some ways. Not so nice in others.
He grimaced. “That’ll get expensive.”
I sighed. “I know.” That was the not so nice part. I picked up the donuts. “I think it’s going to be a whole-box kinda day.”
I’d only thought my old Taurus was a piece of shit. I was now the proud “owner” of an ancient Chevy Caprice, whitish, with the remains of old Beaulac PD decals clearly visible on the sides beneath a not-very-recent paint job. It stank to high heaven of cigarette smoke, the gas gauge was broken, and the foam steering-wheel cover was coming off in gritty little bits. It’s free, I reminded myself. No car loan, no gas bill, no insurance, no maintenance.
After plunking down an uncomfortable amount of money at the gun shop and the cell-phone store, I headed back to my office. A pair of blow-up swimmies had been taped to my office door, along with a flyer for swimming lessons at the community pool. “Nice,” I murmured with a smile. I pulled the swimmies off the door, my mood dimming at the sight of the note underneath telling me to report to my captain’s office when I got in. If I have to tell that damn story one more time …
There was a stack of papers and a padded mailer in the in-box by my door, and I snagged them as I unlocked my office. I dumped the donuts and swimmies on the desk, then took a quick glance through the papers. It was all the information I’d requested in my subpoenas, and I skimmed quickly, finding nothing at all that contradicted Elena’s statement to me concerning her financials.
Not that it mattered anymore.
I tore open the mailer to find a DVD within. It was labeled with the name of a local security company and a date and time stamp, and it wasn’t until I dug through the envelope and found the accompanying note that I realized it was the surveillance video from the gate at Brian Roth’s subdivision.
I pursed my lips as I looked down at the DVD. The Roth cases weren’t mine anymore, so the proper procedure would be to hand it over to Pellini. But will he even bother to look at it? Sifting through surveillance video was tedious and boring, and I didn’t exactly have the utmost confidence in Pellini’s drive to find out what really happened.
I compromised. I fired up my computer and burned a copy of the DVD, stuck the copy in my bag, then stuffed the original back into the mailer and dropped it in Pellini’s in-box. I even scrawled a brief note on a Post-it explaining what the DVD was and why I’d requested it. Who knows. Maybe he’ll actually go that extra mile. I wasn’t going to hold my breath, though.urse assistant gave me a nod that was clearly more emphatic than necessary. “She just needed to be given better care than she could receive here.”
I gave her a hard look. “Is she on a ventilator now?” I’d tried to mentally prepare myself for this possibility, especially with how much her body had been declining, but it was still a harsh blow when the young woman sighed and nodded.
“Yes. It happened only a few hours ago. We tried to call you, but there was no answer.”
“My phone got wet,” I said numbly, in drastic understatement. “I need to see her.”
“Of course,” the woman murmured. “This way.”
She led me to the third floor, a section of the hospital that looked like a hospital, with beeping monitors, and tubes, and a lingering absence of hope. She directed me to a room that held three other patients, each separated by a curtain.
I don’t know how long I stood there, struggling to reconcile the knowledge that this was her body against the sight of the degrading form before me. The only part of her that was recognizable as being Tessa was the frizzy blond mop of her hair, and even that seemed to hang lank and lifeless against her skull.
I finally took the necessary number of steps forward to put me beside the bed and made myself pick up her limp hand, shivering in reaction to the feel of emptiness. Come on, Tessa, I thought toward her desperately. I know you’re out there somewhere. You need to come back. Time to come back now.
Eventually I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder and I looked up, surprised to see Jill. Then I realized that she’d been with me the entire time, staying still and silent and giving me the time I needed.
“Come on, Kara,” she said gently. “You need to go home. It’s been a long day. She’s going to be fine.”
I looked up at her for several heartbeats, then nodded and slipped my hand from Tessa’s. I knew I should feel encouraged by Mr. Raimer’s comment, since hopefully that meant something was happening with Tessa, that maybe she was on her way back. But all I could feel was a desperate need to see some sort of improvement, a twitch of awareness. Anything but the fading body that surely wouldn’t last much longer.
I walked out of the room, feeling weighed down and empty. I started down the corridor toward the elevator, then abruptly spun back and headed for the nurses’ station.
“My aunt is not a DNR,” I said to the nurse beyond the counter, nearly snarling. “Do you understand me? She does not have a Do Not Resuscitate order on her chart. If anything happens to her, you people will fucking do everything in your fucking power to keep her alive. You got that?” I could feel Jill’s hand on my arm, but she wasn’t pulling me away—most likely just making sure that I wasn’t going to do anything more confrontational than snarl.
The nurse didn’t seem particularly cowed by my vehemence. I could see in her eyes that she thought I was in denial and was being unrealistic, but fortunately—for her—she didn’t give voice to any of that. “Yes, ma’am” was all she said.
