AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Then, unexpectedly, the young detective darted off the sidewalk and jumped into the street, pushing the woman out of the path of the bus.
The bus driver stomped on the brakes. The big vehicle skidded sideways.
The detective barely had time to look up as the flat nose of the bus struck him squarely, sending his body flying a good fifteen feet, arms and legs flailing as if taking flight…before hitting the ground with a tumbling thud. The bus managed to stop about five feet from the spot where the young man’s body now lay in the middle of the street.
The detective’s left leg was bent at a sickening angle. His right arm flopped behind his back.
Ott didn’t wait to see anything more. He casually turned and walked away from the bus. He didn’t rush—remembering how his mistake in the library had gotten him spotted by Bennett—but he didn’t waste time either.
He was more than two blocks away when he heard the first siren rushing to the scene.
Chapter 62
It’s not exactly unusual for cops to get hurt—or worse—on the job, so this was hardly my first time at the Columbia University Medical Center. But getting exiled from the emergency room and sent to the waiting room was new.
I had raced downstairs from our offices as soon as I’d heard the sickening sound of the bus hitting something, then skidding to a stop. Not that I’d expected to find my partner, of all people, flat on the ground in the middle of the road, limbs akimbo.
I rode in the ambulance with Brett Hollis and had been raising hell to make sure he got the best care. Though maybe I raised a little too much hell, actually, since an Asian American doctor told me that if I didn’t get out of the ER, she’d cut the tendons in the back of my leg. I didn’t believe her completely, but then again, I wasn’t going to bet my mobility on it.
The waiting room seemed especially crowded. Mainly with patients, but there was also a large contingent of NYPD people in one corner, including a couple of eyewitnesses to Hollis’s injury who were saying the incident was no accident. I would need to interview them later.
I saw Harry Grissom talking to a twenty-something woman in a vibrant yellow skirt, whom I vaguely recog
nized as someone who worked on one of the lower floors in our building.
I also spotted a woman who appeared to be in her mid fifties sitting on the outskirts of the NYPD crowd. She had dark hair and was using a Kleenex to wipe her eyes. She looked familiar, and I realized I recognized her from the family photographs Hollis kept on his desk.
I stepped over to her and said, “Excuse me. I’m Michael Bennett. Are you related to Brett Hollis?”
The woman looked up at me, nodding, and said, “Ann Hollis, Brett’s mom. He’s told me all about you.” She clearly didn’t want to say too much for fear of breaking down.
I sat in the empty chair next to her. “I’m so sorry about Brett. I rode in the ambulance here with him, but he was only conscious enough to hold on to my hand.”
“The ER doctor gave me a list of his injuries, but I haven’t heard anything more. Have you?”
“She didn’t even tell me that much, but I’m only his NYPD partner. You’re his next of kin.”
A tear ran down her left cheek as she looked at me and said, “It’s about what you expect from this kind of accident. Shattered pelvis, broken leg, broken arm, concussion. Plus he cracked a front tooth and broke his nose again.”
She seemed on the edge of a meltdown. I understood. I would have already melted if this had happened to one of my kids.
She started to sob, and I put my arm around her. Most veteran cops have done some time in a waiting room, comforting the loved ones of fellow cops who’d been injured on the job.
As I sat there, holding my partner’s mother, my mind drifted. First, to Hollis’s injuries, and his chances of recovery. Yet with the pressure from the mayor’s office mounting, it was hard not to make a mental to-do list of next steps in the investigation. Even as a woman literally cried on my shoulder.
Harry caught my eye, and I excused myself from Mrs. Hollis. The lieutenant led me into the hallway, away from the commotion of the waiting room.
Harry nodded over at the woman he’d been talking to earlier, who was now also dabbing her eyes with a Kleenex. “The young lady in yellow over there, Kelly Konick, tells me that Hollis jumped into the road to save her when she was knocked into the street, and he got hit instead.”
I was not surprised to hear that Hollis had been injured in an act of bravery. He had already impressed me, and I’d told Grissom as much, but his actions today were in line with the best of the NYPD.
“Ms. Konick says she thinks someone pushed her. Intentionally. But she didn’t get a good look at who it was.” Harry paused. “It’s all speculation right now. But do you think this might’ve had anything to do with your case?”
I thought about it for a minute and said, “I have no idea. But if it was related to us, why would the guy push her and not Hollis?”
I couldn’t help but wonder if it was a simple accident. Were we being paranoid? I thought back to the man I saw rushing from the computer room in the library, the strong feeling I’d had that he might be the killer. He had evaded detection that day, but he may have changed course. Instead of trying to outrun the investigation, maybe he was attempting to derail it. But that was crazy talk.
Wasn’t it?
