Before Another Dies (30 page)

“Yeah, that's the look I was going for.”

West shook his head. “Well, if it's any comfort, you're bound to look worse in the morning.”

“Are you all right?” Mom asked.

“I'm fine. Some bumps, some bruises, a sore side, and couple of other things I'll brag about later.”

Mom stepped to Jerry and gently put her arms around him. “We owe you so much. If you hadn't arrived when you had—”

“Hug easy, Mrs. Anderson. I'm a little tender from slamming my ribs into that guy's fist.” He gave her a gentle hug, then Dad shook his hand.

“You up for a few questions?” West asked me.

“Only if you'll boot my parents out. I was telling them you'd arrest them if they didn't go home and get some sleep.” I didn't want them to hear the details that West might ask for.

“Okay, okay, we'll go,” Dad said, giving me a wink. He didn't want Mom to hear the details either. “But we'll be back to nag you later. So get some rest.”

I promised and waved good-bye.

“I get the first question,” I said. “How did the intruder get past my security system?”

He motioned for Jerry to take a seat in the large padded chair near my bed. Jerry put up no argument.

“I have an idea, but I need to hear your story first. Start from the beginning.”

I did a play-by-play from the moment I pulled onto my street until I lost consciousness in Jerry's arms. It was painful to recount, and at times I had to beat my emotions back into the cave of logic. The weeping time was over for now. I'm sure there would be other times soon.

“You were lucky Jerry called when he did,” West said. “And even more fortunate that he was nearby.”

“It was more than luck. I don't think I believe in luck anymore. I don't know if this will make sense, but I was terrified beyond words but I never felt alone.”

West shifted his weight as if uncomfortable with the topic. “I'm glad that works for you.” In an obvious effort to change the subject he turned to Jerry. “How did you get there so quickly?”

“I had just been to the house and nobody was home,” Jerry said. “As I was driving away, I caught a pair of headlights in the rearview mirror. I thought it might be Maddy so I called. That's when I heard the struggle. A moment later, the line went dead. Of course, I called 911 and turned my car around. I wish I could have been there sooner.”

“If you had, you both might be dead.” West looked at his note sheet. “The attacker killed the guard who had been posted there. If he had seen you, he or she would have taken you out first. You were the greater danger.”

“It was a he,” Jerry remarked. “No way was it a she.”

“How can you be so sure if the attacker was masked from head to foot?”

“It's the first thing they teach you in medical school—men and women are very different. This was definitely a man. A skilled man.”

“Detective West thinks that a woman we met might be the killer,” I inserted.

“I can't speak to that,” Jerry said, “but I can tell you my fist hit a man, and he grunted like it. I wrapped the guy up in my arms. I was close enough to tell the difference.”

West seemed disappointed.

“Now,” I repeated, “how did he get past my security system without setting off the alarm?”

“Here's my take on that.” West closed his notebook. “We examined your property and house, top to bottom. You have an automatic sprinkler system, right?”

“Yes, it comes on late at night. What of it?”

“We looked at the timer. They're set to come on at ten and run for ten minutes. It left a flower bed muddy. The flower bed I refer to is the one on the north side of your garage. We found his footprints there. They weren't simple prints like he was walking through your daisies. They were a mess. I think he was crouched down in the bed, hiding from you when you returned. The perp had mud on his shoe.

“You came home,” he continued, “and he hid just around the corner of the garage. As you pulled in, he followed you, hiding behind that big SUV you drive. We found mud next to the right rear tire. You walked to the door between the garage and your home. The door began to close behind you. Moving quickly, he caught the door before it closed all the way.”

A light went on in my head. “That's why the alarm indicator showed the open door.”

“You walked in and turned off the alarm and its motion detectors. You only have a few moments to do that. That's how these systems work. I'll bet you tried to reset the alarm.”

“Of course. When I have it set to Stay the motion detectors are off, but the parameter is set. So . . . he waited until he heard me disarm the system, and he also knew I couldn't reset it until that door was closed.”

West nodded. “When you started to push the door closed he came charging in. The alarm is deactivated, and he could do what he came to do without setting it off.”

“But he failed,” Jerry said.

“Thanks to you and to the fact that we have a mayor with some attitude. Some people would have just given up.”

“That's not in my nature.”

“I take it the attacker is still at large,” Jerry said.

“Unfortunately. We're still working.” He looked at me. “I owe you the world's biggest apology. I should have seen you home after our . . . meeting.”

Jerry gave us the eye but didn't say anything.

I shook my head. “You arranged for extra police coverage in the area and the guard. You don't need to apologize for anything. On the other hand, I should eat a little crow. I had convinced myself that the attacks were not only related to Hood's program but also confined to the second hour of the show. You said that may just be coincidence and that we should take the third-hour program seriously.”

“I guess you haven't heard,” West said. “They changed the schedule at the last minute.”

chapter 36

M
orning came all too quickly. With the help of pain relievers and a mild, prescribed sedative, I went to sleep around three. West had left to oversee the evidence gathering at my home. Jerry stayed until I had fallen asleep, sitting in the chair, his watchful eyes on me. I woke up once just as the sun was beginning to peek in my window. Jerry was gone. At home, I hoped. The man earned a lifetime of leisure as far as I was concerned.

A nurse brought an electronic thermometer and an ice-cold stethoscope. An orderly brought breakfast, which I was sure was designed to empty hospital beds, and the admitting ER doc came by before calling his night a day. He was a stout, bald man who insisted I could go home at noon but not before. “A few more hours of rest will do you good. Otherwise you're looking great.”

“I've seen my face, Doc. I'm not looking all that great.”

“I meant healthwise, you're doing fine. The bruises will take some time to go away. You may need a touch more makeup for the next few weeks.”

“Makeup. I don't need makeup, I need a stucco job.”

“If you do, choose the hand-trowel look. It has more character.” He studied me for a second. “Compared to what I see most weeks, you look pretty good. Be thankful.”

“I am, Doctor. I'm thankful for many things. You wouldn't happen to know where Dr. Jerry Thomas is, would you? Did he go home?”

“Hah! That's a good one. At least your sense of humor is intact. We couldn't get him out of here with dynamite. He's in the doctor's lounge sleeping on the sofa.”

I thought of Jerry curled up on a worn sofa, trying to be comfortable with his bruised ribs. Guilt, the gift that keeps on giving, crawled into bed with me. “I'll try to make him go home and rest.”

“Good luck. I'll make sure all the discharge papers are in order. You should set up an appointment to see your personal physician in the next day or two. Don't want anything new to develop.”

After the doctor left, I played with my food, pushing it around on the plate until I was convinced that I lacked the courage to eat any of it. Around eight o'clock, people began to show. First came West, who had nothing else to report other than Chief Webb was hopping mad about the whole thing and didn't know who to blame. He looked as tired as I felt and when I asked if he had slept at all last night, he changed the topic.

Floyd arrived, looking pale and upset. I reassured him that I'd live to torment him in the days ahead, then gave him instructions about the next few days. I would be working from home until my face would no longer frighten little children and small dogs. I also asked him to call Nat. I was going to be off the campaign trail until I could present a proper public figure. There would be media to think of, speaking engagements to cancel, and damage control to undertake. I had no idea what impact this would have on my candidacy, and since my pain relievers were wearing off, I didn't much care at the moment.

I dozed off for an hour or so, and when I awoke Jerry was sitting by my bed. His face was still puffy but he appeared more like the man who came charging to my rescue.

“You owe me a new sliding door,” I said. My mouth was thick with some nasty film. I smacked my lips. He stood and poured water from a plastic pitcher on a nearby table and handed me a cup with a flex straw in it. I frowned as I tasted it. “This isn't a double latte. It's tap water.”

“Well, you must be feeling better, just awake and already demanding home improvement and expensive coffee.”

“It's all an act. I plan to milk this for a few years.” I pushed up in bed. “I need to make a few calls. What time is it?”

“A little after nine.” He sat down again. The act made him grimace. “I've already called your parents and told them I'd bring you home. They said they were heading to your place and that they had a key. Your dad wants to supervise the installation of the door I broke.”

“I need to call Nat.”

He shook his head. “No phone calls.”

“I can't just hang around in bed until noon.”

“You can. You will.”

“You said it was nine?” I said. He nodded, and I added, “I'm going to take a little walk.”

“You can walk to the bathroom and back. I'm a doctor. You have to listen to me.”

“You're a pediatrician, and you took as bad a beating as I did, and you get to move around.”

“I didn't break anything.”

“If you don't help me, I'll remedy that.”

“What are you thinking of doing?” He rose again.

“First, I'm headed to the restroom. Then you're going to take me for a walk. I'll need a robe; this gown is ventilated in an unfortunate area.”

I shooed him out the door and made use of the facilities. I washed my battered face and tried to straighten my hair. When I was done I congratulated myself on moving from hideous to mere bone-melting scary. When I exited Jerry was standing behind a wheelchair holding a knee-length robe.

“This is a compromise,” Jerry said, keeping the robe just out of my reach. “You're a politician, you know about compromise.”

“All right, all right. I'm starting to think the wrong one of us is mayor.” He handed me the robe, and I slipped it on. New pains from places I didn't know I had began to tour my body. I eased myself down into the chair. “Didn't they have anything sportier? This looks like a wheelchair my mother would drive.”

“Ah, chronic complaining, the first sign of recovery. Where are we headed?”

“Surgical waiting room. Titus Overstreet is having his surgery today.” I told him of Titus's sudden announcement. “Are you going to be all right pushing me around in this thing? It must hurt.”

“I am Dr. Steel.” He grunted. “Okay, it hurts a little but I'll manage.”

The twilight pall of the hospital in the wee hours had evaporated and the corridors were buzzing with activity. Jerry moved at a measured pace, and I started to prod him on, letting him know that I could endure the speed. Then it occurred to me that the reduced rate wasn't for my benefit.

Surgeries often start early in the mornings. Patients arrive and get their final prep. Family get to wait in a room designed to be efficient when it should be designed for comfort. The room was crowded with people of various ages. Some looked unperturbed; others looked on the verge of nervous breakdowns. In the latter camp was a statuesque black woman with high and prominent cheekbones, a soft jawline, a narrow chin, and dark eyes tinged with red. She was the one I had come to see.

As we entered, those who waited looked at us, some with pity, others with confusion as if we had mistaken this place with the ER. The black woman had her gaze fixed on a well-worn carpet. I motioned for Jerry to push me closer.

“Hi, Cindy,” I said. She looked up and her reddened eyes widened.

“Mayor, what—”

I shushed her. “Let's go with Maddy for now.” I looked around to see if anyone heard her or recognized me. I didn't mind being recognized. At this point, I'd consider it a miracle, but I didn't want to answer questions from the lobby. “I had a bit of an accident.”

Cindy looked up at Jerry. “Same accident?”

“In a manner of speaking,” I replied. I introduced her to Jerry and Jerry to Mrs. Cindy Overstreet.

“I came to see how you and Titus were doing. I assume they've taken him in already.”

“He was to be the first surgery of the day. We came in at five this morning. They said surgery would begin around six thirty or seven.”

“So no word yet?” I asked.

She shook her head and dabbed at her eyes.

I rose from the wheelchair and moved to the empty chair next to her. Jerry replaced me in the wheelchair. He seemed glad for it. “Titus tells me that it was found early and that things should go very well.”

“That's what the doctors say, but I'm still worried.”

“It's your privilege.” I took her hand with my good one and gave it a squeeze.

She smiled and dabbed at her eyes again. “I don't know what I'd do if I were to lose him. He means everything to me.”