Capitol Offense (3 page)

Torres peered down at him. Dennis thought he seemed sympathetic. But he had no way to help. “I’m just the front desk clerk here. I don’t make policy decisions. Detective Sentz—”

“Wouldn’t budge if I had a ransom note from the Taliban.”

“That’s not true. We have to follow procedures—”

“Do you know who my wife is?” Dennis asked, his head tilted at an angle, his throat pulsing. “Do you?”

“I believe her first name was Joslyn …”

“Dr. Joslyn Thomas. She’s an oncologist. Works in the cancer ward at St. Benedict’s.”

“She must be a very strong woman.”

“She’s a saint. That’s what she is. A saint.” Tears appeared in his eyes. “You think a policeman’s job is tough? Try spending every day watching the people you care for slowly slip away. Watching them die. She works with women primarily. Trying to ease their suffering. Sometimes the cancer goes into remission, usually not. Even when it’s gone, it all too often returns, like a bottled imp that keeps pushing the cork out. But she never gives up. Never. No matter how hopeless the case.”

Dennis leaned across the desk, water streaming down his face. “And that’s why it’s so important that you look for her, Officer. Because I know that no matter what has happened to her, no matter how bad it is, she will never give up. She is not a quitter, not my Joslyn. She’s still out there, somewhere, waiting for me to come get her.” His voice cracked. He laid his head down on the desk. “Please help me, Officer. Please help me find my Joslyn.”

Torres stared down at the crumpled man crying on his desk. He laid his hand against his chest.

“I suppose … we could put out an APB on her and her car. But honestly, if she were out there, stranded or something, she would likely have been spotted by now. I don’t think—”

“What about her cell phone?”

“I assume you’ve tried to call her.”

“Yes, and there was no answer. But when I called today I didn’t get the quick cutoff voice mail message you get when the phone is turned off.”

Torres’s eyes flashed. “If her cell phone is active …”

“I know.” Dennis slid forward a folder filled with pages printed from his computer. “You can track her down from the signal her cell phone emits.”

“It’s not that simple. Even if her phone is active, if she’s too far from the signal tower—”

“Will you please just try?
Please!”

Torres breathed heavily. His eyes darted around the station, as if his heart was in conflict with his head.

“Detective Sentz is out on a call. I know his assistant. I think I might be able to persuade him to do … something. At least see if we can get a trace on that phone.”

Dennis’s eyes closed. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Save the thanks until we accomplish something. It’s still a long shot. Especially when she’s been gone so many days. Statistically, it’s still most likely that she’s somewhere of her own accord.”

“But you will look?”

Torres began the paperwork. “Yes. Of course we will.”

I dropped the phone. I should have seen that coming. How could I not, given my current state, my arms, trembling, unable to steady even for a second, my hand and fingers barely operational? It was hopeless. Now that little pink hunk of metal lies at my feet and there is simply no chance I will ever be able to retrieve it. My last hope is gone. My final dream is shattered. I am well and truly dead.

Perhaps it’s better this way. Did I ever believe I would be rescued? What have I told my patients so many times? Sometimes acceptance is best. It is not perfect. But perhaps it is my finest choice. The dead can only expect so much.

The pain has subsided somewhat, but I’m not foolish enough to imagine that means I’m getting better, or that my efforts at meditation have saved me. The serotonin sedation must be kicking in. Still, it does help to have that training, to know how to reach a better place and stay there, as long as may be necessary. My teachers taught me to find my inner strength, not physical strength but something better, something more important, more than the recognition of constant pain, the realization that this is my body’s final resting place.

I had a dream just a moment ago. A hallucination, perhaps. There was a clamor outside, the thudding of boots, the flashing of lights. A rescue fantasy, no doubt. I even thought I heard Dennis calling for me. Ridiculous. But I think I will not resist. Perhaps this is the final gift the Universe has for me. Perhaps I will feel his arms around me one last time, if only as an illusion. I loved you, Dennis, and I know you loved me with a greater need and passion than I could ever match. Can you feel my arms around you, just as I feel yours? The little light I have left is fading, but with my final breath I send this wish to you. Accept what has happened. Don’t give in to despair. Don’t let it change you, ruin your life. Move on. Find the lesson. Tell yourself it’s perfect, even if you don’t know why.

I worry about you, Dennis. I worry so much.

Do not let this destroy you!

There is pain in dying, as I know now, as I have always known. But the pain of living can be greater.

Please, Dennis! Outwit … outwit …

“Joslyn! Do you hear me? Honey! Can you hear me?”

It’s starting over again, the whole dream fantasy sequence. I wonder if I have the power to alter it. Make it more immediate …

“We’re coming, honey. I’m sorry it took so long. Your car ran off the road and plummeted down a very deep ravine. There was thick brush all around the car, blackberry hedges. I couldn’t see you! I drove by here a hundred times, but it looked as if nothing was there. I didn’t know!”

“Sir,” Officer Torres said, “I need you to move away from the car.”

“Can’t you get her out of there?”

“We’re trying, sir, but she’s wedged in but good. Strapped down by her seat belt, pinned by the air bag, something stabbing her leg. We’re going to have to have to cut the roof off to get her out.”

“Then do it!”

“The equipment is on its way. We just have to—”

“What in God’s name is going on here?”

Dennis and Torres whirled around and saw Detective Sentz marching toward them.

Torres stepped forward. “We’ve found Dr. Thomas, Detective. We’re trying to extract her—”

“I didn’t authorize this operation!”

This is new, Joslyn thought, smiling a little. Interesting. A nice bit of plot thickening. Heightens the drama. My Dennis is so sweet …

“No, sir, but—”

“In fact, I expressly refused to open a file. Didn’t meet the criteria.”

“Doesn’t matter, sir. We found—”

“Doesn’t matter? I’ll decide what matters!”

“But—”

“Have you received a sudden promotion I don’t know about, Sergeant? Or am I still your superior?”

Torres’s eyes narrowed. “You’re still my superior.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Consider yourself on probation. Suspension without pay until—”

Dennis jumped in between them. “Would you stop this? My wife is trapped in that car. That’s all that matters!”

Sentz pursed his lips, obviously angry. “You can’t initiate an emergency rescue operation without the authorization of a senior officer or—”

“She’s dying!”

That’s my Dennis. Always a fighter. To the bitter end. Give him what for, Dennis!

Sentz took a deep breath. “Mr. Thomas, it might be best if you waited beyond the perimeter.”

“I will not!”

“You will do as instructed, or I will regretfully—”

“I’m not moving an inch until my wife is out of that car.”

“You are interfering with a police operation, leaving me no choice but—”

“Why are you doing this?”
Dennis screamed, blocking his path. “Do you know how long she’s been trapped in there? She’s dying, and you’re bellowing about regulations and—”

The detective moved so quickly Dennis did not know what had happened until it was over. Detective Sentz lifted him off his feet and threw him sideways. He fell face-first onto the ground.

Dennis screamed, clutching his face, bloodied on the right side. “Why are you doing this?”

Sentz ignored him. “I want to talk to the operations officer. These things have to be handled carefully. One false move could kill the person you’re trying to rescue.”

Are you still there? Is it over already? This isn’t a very satisfying ending, Dennis. But, it’s too late. I know that. I can feel it inside. I can feel the transformation coming, the passage. And I’m ready. But I would like to talk to you, Dennis. One last time. I have a message …

“We got her!”

Dennis rushed forward, still holding the right side of his face. “How is she?”

“Not good,” Torres replied, “but she’s alive. Barely.” He led Dennis past the barricade back toward the car, where attendants were lifting Joslyn’s broken body onto a stretcher. “Medics say she has broken bones, a severely lacerated and infected leg. She’s dehydrated, malnourished. Judging from her skin color, she’s got liver damage, with the resultant buildup of toxins.”

“Will she be okay?”

“They just don’t know. We’ve got to get her to a hospital …”

Dennis rushed forward, grabbing the gurney. “Joslyn! Can you hear me? Can you hear me?”

Her eyelashes fluttered briefly, barely signaling a trace of life still residing inside.

“Joslyn, I’m sorry I took so long. I’m sorry! But we’re going to get you well. You’re going to be fine, honey. I promise. You’ll be just like new. Back to your patients in no time.”

One of the medics stepped forward. “I’m sorry, sir, but we have to get her to the hospital.”

“Of course. I understand. Just—”

Joslyn’s right hand suddenly wrapped itself around Dennis’s arm.

“I’m here, honey,” Dennis said, eyes bulging. “I’m here. I’ll stay with you.”

Slowly her lips pressed together. He could see she was trying to say something, but she barely had the strength to make it happen.

“What is it, Fizz? What?”

He leaned forward until his head was barely an inch from her lips. Her voice was more breath than sound.

“Out … wit …”

“Outwit? Is that what you’re saying?”

“… stars …”

He felt the grip on his wrist loosen, then felt her hand fall away altogether.

“What’s happening? What’s happening to her?”

The chief EMT rushed forward. “Get me an oxygen mask, now. And the defibrillator.”

“They’re in the ambulance. Up on the road.”

“Then hurry!”

The paramedic in charge gave her an injection. “Something’s wrong.”

“What is it?” Dennis asked desperately. “What’s happening?”

“How can I know? I haven’t had a chance to examine her properly. She’s been trapped in her car for seven days. Most people wouldn’t have lasted this long.”

“There must be something you can do!”

The attendant pounded on her chest. “I assure you … I’m doing … everything I know … how to do …”

“Please!”

Across the gurney, Dennis saw the paramedic in charge step away, shaking his head. “She’s gone.”

“What?” Dennis’s eyes went wild. “She can’t be gone. She’s alive. I’m telling you, she’s alive!”

Dennis felt a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, sir, you need to move away and—”

“She can’t be dead. She can’t be!” He turned and saw Detective Sentz peering across at him.

“It’s a tragedy.” Sentz cleared his throat. “We did everything we could.”

“Everything? You didn’t do anything!”

“I know this is hard, but—”

“You killed her, you son of a bitch!
You killed my wife!”

A second later, Dennis’s fist clipped Sentz across the jaw. Sentz took a step backward, then recovered himself, rubbing the sore spot on his face. “Officers, restrain him.”

Officer Torres and another grabbed Dennis by the arms, holding him in place. Dennis strained against his captors, trying to get free, trying to get to Sentz. “This is your fault! You killed her!”

“It’s an unfortunate incident, but there’s only so much you can do when someone goes off a country road like this. I wonder if she’d been drinking …”

“You killed her, you son of a bitch! You killed Joslyn! You’ll pay for this!”

Sentz sighed. “Mr. Thomas, I’m afraid I’m going to have to press charges. You threatened and committed battery against a police officer. Those are felony charges.”

“You’re going to lock me up? Someone should lock
you
up!”

Sentz turned away. “Take him downtown and book him, officers. I’ll finish up here.”

The two officers dragged Dennis away, but he fought them, struggling, screaming back at the departing detective. “This isn’t over. You’re not done with me. There will be a reckoning, do you hear me? Your time will come.
There will be a reckoning!”

Ben Kincaid thumbed through the case file, wondering what he had gotten himself into this time. As if he were not busy enough already. Just back from Washington, a much-delayed honeymoon waiting in the wings, a senatorial campaign to plan. And yet here he was, tackling a small-time criminal case. Was this really how he wanted to spend the two months the Senate was in recess? But when Marty from Legal Services called, he found himself unable to say no. As usual. He knew there were people who couldn’t afford attorneys who seriously needed them, and he had often spoken of the importance of lawyers finding time in their busy schedules to help others. Time to put your money where your mouth is, right, Senator?

He stared through the acrylic separator at his new client, one Anson Thorpe III. He was a lean man, mid-twenties, scruffy beard and moustache. He did not look great, but the orange coveralls of the Tulsa County Jail rarely improved anyone’s appearance.

“So, um, if I understand this correctly,” Ben said, “the only things you stole were dolls?”

“Not dolls. Action figures.”

“Okay …”

“Do you have any idea how much these action figures are worth?”

“I understand some are collector’s items.”

“And some are beyond collector’s items. This was the classic run of Mego Super-Friends figures. Still the standard-bearer for the entire field.”