AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Nine
Detective Howard Young stood at the foot of the hospital bed watching the steady rise and fall of the young college student’s chest as the machines attached to him worked to keep him alive. Brent Lefebvre, barely twenty-one, had been mowed down in a parking lot crawling with patrons by what was probably a drunken driver, and no one had witnessed a thing. He didn’t buy it for a second.
He’d already questioned friends around campus, focusing on those who had been at the club that night. They all said the same thing: Everyone was drinking and having a good time. On a dare, Brent attempted to pick up one of the waitresses and was shot down. After that, he pretty much packed up and left. Every one of them had stayed inside, so they were a dead end and a half as far as he was concerned. Covering every angle, he had questioned family members too. They described Brent as a bright kid with a scholarship and no enemies, and they couldn’t give him any more answers than his friends. None of it added up. So Howard decided another stop-in at the hospital to see if there had been any changes couldn’t hurt.
A recent pile up on the I-280 bridge had swamped the ER, and wouldn’t luck have it, the doctor he needed to speak with, the one who usually worked ICU, was tending to the vics. Pulling up a chair, the detective readied himself for a long wait.
He didn’t have to wait long.
A brunet, somewhere in her late forties, with pale skin and tired, swollen eyes strode into the room. Her steps faltered when she caught sight of him, but she quickly recovered. Striding to the chair opposite the bed, she placed a large purse on the floor then turned her attention to the boy.
This was Brent’s mother, Teresa Lefebvre. They’d met once before, the night of the accident. She had been vibrant then, but the trauma had taken its toll, putting bags under eyes and creases in her skin. In that short of time, she had aged ten years.
“The doctor says he’s in a coma,” she said solemnly, combing manicured nails through Brent’s matted, unwashed hair. Misty eyes lifted to meet his. “Do you have any leads, Detective?”
He shook his head, wishing he had better news. The truth was, the department had its suspicions, but even if they could share them, they were unfounded. Innocent until proven guilty and all that.
“What has the doctor said?” he asked, turning the topic away from the investigation. “Is Brent going to come out of this?”
Teresa looked down at her son and made a production of straightening his hospital gown and smoothing his blankets around him. “Doctor Pinsky says all the tests show that brain activity is fine despite the head injury. There’s some brain swelling, but they’re monitoring it. Other than that, broken bones that should heal over time.”
Howard could sense that there was something she wasn’t saying, and he felt compelled to call her on it. “What else did he say?”
Teresa straightened and looked heavenward, releasing a long-suffering breath. “That no matter how good it looks on paper, there is no guarantee that Brent will ever make a full recovery. If the brain swelling increases, his chances go down. It’s up to him now.”
He didn’t like that, not at all. The investigation had hit a wall. What they needed was a break in the case, and like it or not, Brent was that break. He might have been the only one to see what the driver looked like or, at the very least, be able to give them an idea of where to look.
“And you said he didn’t have any enemies? No one that might want to see him get hurt?” he asked Teresa again, because sometimes even the slightest variation in a story could move mountains.
“I already told you, Brent made friends, not enemies. Everyone loved him.” Reaching out, she tenderly smoothed Brent’s hair back from his face.
Howard stood and crossed to the door. “I’m sure that’s true, Ms. Lefebvre, but where are all those friends now?” As he stepped into the hall, he could feel her icy glare searing into his back. Turning to the nurses’ station, he was preparing to ask them how much longer the wait would be when a smooth, calm voice that only a doctor could have, approached him from behind.
“Detective Young?” Howard turned and found himself face-to-face with a younger version of George Clooney. He’d just bet that the nurses fell all over themselves when he entered a room, and, yep, there went one now.
“Dr. Pinsky,” the petite blonde asked with a flirty smile. “Sorry to interrupt, but they need you in SICU, and you have a call on line six.”
“Thank you, Geena.” Dr. Pinsky turned back to Howard with a friendly smile. “Where was I? Oh yes,” he said with a snap of his fingers. “You’re here for an update on the hit and run?”
“I am,” Howard confirmed. “I am updating the files so I need anything you can give me.”
Dr. Pinsky stepped up to the nurses’ station and leaned over the counter, earning a shy smile from a blushing receptionist, and withdrew a cream folder. “The patient has suffered a traumatic closed head injury and some other non-life-threatening injuries. The fact that he hasn’t woken up yet is a little troublesome, but coma is not unusual with an injury like this. We’ve performed some tests and haven’t been able to locate any fractures or signs of a bleed, but we are monitoring him closely.” Closing the file, Pinsky slapped it on the counter.
Howard blinked. “That’s it?”
“That’s about all that can be done at the moment,” Pinsky said, burying his hands in his jacket pockets. “Well, Detective, everyone’s body handles trauma differently. Some are up and walking the next day, others slip into a coma. There’s no telling how one will react. As I told Ms. Lefebvre, it’s up to Brent now. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to get going,” he said, already turning away. “If you have any more questions, leave them with one of the nurses and I’ll be sure to get in contact with you.”
Howard narrowed his eyes at the back of his head as he walked away. He didn’t know what he expected to hear when he came here, but he was hoping for more than a ‘we’ll have to wait and see what happens’ approach.
Frustrated, Howard marched to the elevators and punched the button. He needed answers. The person responsible for all of this was still out there, and it was only a matter of time before he hurt or killed someone else. It was time for him return to the scene of the crime, talk some more to the owner, Luke Reed, again, and see if he could jog his memory.
Everyone in the station knew who the guy was, and it was common knowledge that the kind of business he ran wasn’t the family-oriented type. The guy had his hands in some seriously shady dealings, but no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t get a solid break on him. At every turn, he covered his tracks well.
But Luke wasn’t at the top of his hit list right now, so he could care less what he did behind closed doors. What he needed was answers, and he had a feeling that Luke Reed knew more than he was telling, and with nothing else to go on, he had no choice but to explore every nook and cranny, because he sure as hell wasn’t getting anywhere waiting around here.
***
Randy finished the last of his black coffee and tossed the Styrofoam cup on the floorboard. He glared at his new home away from home, what was now an empty vessel. Where was Terri? He knew for a fact that she hadn’t been home in two days, because he had been waiting and watching.
