Fated (33 page)

“Okay.” The captain began to rise. “I’ll try to keep IA off your back. You weren’t on duty, you didn’t hand over your service weapon to the civilian, and you had the right to defend yourself, but that still doesn’t justify the ‘shoot first’ comment you made or the fact that you left an injured kid alone with a perp, be it unconscious or not.”

Dejected he nodded. “Will you let me know if there’s news from the hospital? And check if someone called Isaac’s parents, otherwise I’ll do it.”

“You worry about yourself for a change.” Johnson’s eyes softened. “But you’ll be the first to know if there’s news.” He clapped a hand on Hart’s shoulder, and with that he was gone.

Hart buried his hands in his face, pressing hard enough against his eyeballs to see stars, and sighed deeply. In his mind he saw Isaac on the floor, blood over his shirt and his hands, blood pumping from the bullet hole, and a harsh sound tore from his throat. His chest ached, and Hart doubled over, gasping for breath. If Isaac had died, if he still died, Hart would never get over it. When his phone buzzed, he nearly jumped out of his chair. It was Toby.

Can we talk?

Hart swiped the message away without replying just as Freddie walked through the door.

“You have two minutes,” she said, voice urgent. “Leave through the back. My car is parked out there.”

“What are we doing?” Hart demanded, but the door drifted shut, the lock sticking out and catching the frame so it couldn’t completely close. Hart pulled his hoodie back over his head. When he stuck his head around the door, no one stood in the hallway, and he ran as quietly as he could to the back door.

The blue Camry idled by a large trash can, and Freddie took off before Hart had closed his door.

“What’s going on?”

“Is Isaac Lasko the reason why you couldn’t commit to Toby?” Freddie asked, her eyes blazing.

“I—” Hart faltered, but Freddie had an urgency about her that made him answer. “Partly, yes. Why?”

“I’m taking you to the hospital. It’s not right that they’re keeping you in here when Isaac’s hurt.”

“Have you heard anything?” His heart thumped so hard it felt like his ribs rattled. “Freddie, is he—”

“I don’t know, Lieutenant. That’s why I’m taking you there.”

“You’ll get in trouble.”

For a second Freddie continued to glare at him, but then she started to crack. The left corner of her mouth lifted, her nostrils flared, and her eyes began to sparkle. “Miller said you were free to go since you’d given your statement. IA will be in touch if they think it’s necessary, but I doubt it.”

“You had me sneak out of the building like a common criminal. I bet you were laughing your head off, weren’t you?”

Freddie tapped her phone. “And I’ve got it on video.”

“You didn’t.”

“Read my lips: Future. Blackmail. Material. In case making fun of certain, uh, affairs I’ve been having ever crosses your mind.”

“You’re an asshole,” Hart said, realization dawning. He wanted to laugh but held it back, even though it would make him feel marginally lighter. “How did I never notice?”

“I’m fabulous, and you know it. Now, tell me what the hell has been happening. God, a girl takes one night off to get lai—”

“I went to see Mauro,” Hart quickly interrupted.

“On your
own
?” Freddie demanded, nearly swerving out of their lane.

“With Isaac.”

“Goddammit, Hart! I should’ve left you in that interrogation room. Have you lost your mind?”

“It definitely feels like it.”

Freddie frowned at him, then turned her attention back to the road. “Tell me everything.”

So he did, and Freddie remained silent throughout the entire explanation. When Hart was done, they pulled into the hospital parking lot, and she said, “So you don’t think Mauro and Julian have anything to do with the murders.” She seemed to be chewing something over, but when Hart lifted his eyebrows in question, she looked away.

“We’ll have to check alibis for both of them,” he said, “but my gut says not. On the other hand it’s suspicious timing, someone coming after us with a gun on the evening we talked to them.”

“You can say that again. Were you followed?”

Hart opened his door but sank back. “I didn’t pay attention on the way back. I know. All right? I know. I am fucking up left, right, and center. I thought I’d checked well enough to make sure no one followed us on the way up, but on that mountain pass, it’s hard to tell. I should check in with Mauro at least, if he’s not trekking through the woods yet, and make sure they’re all right. Maybe ask where the two of them were last night.”

Freddie gave him a small smile. “Go inside first. Check on Isaac. I’ll be right behind you.”

T
HE
NURSE
at the office by the ICU doors wouldn’t let him pass.

“Are you here as a police officer?”

Automatically Hart glanced down, seeing for the first time how much of Isaac’s blood had soaked and then dried into his hoodie: an ugly black stain right over his heart. When he pressed his fingers against it, they shook. No point even trying to pretend.

“No.”

“Then I’m sorry, but since you’re not family, I can’t talk to you.”

“I’m a police detective. You will let me through.” Hart reeled himself in and added, “And Isaac is my friend.”

“Lieutenant.” Freddie’s harsh bark yanked Hart physically back. He passed a palm over his face. If he looked half as wrecked as he felt, they were right to keep him out of Isaac’s room.

“I apologize.” He held up his hands and walked backward for a step or two, watching the disapproving nurse’s headshake before turning away.

“Toby can get you in.”

“No.”

“Hart.” Freddie yanked on his arm. “Don’t be a damn mule about this. You want to go see this kid so badly? You use the resources at your disposal. I know about Toby, okay? He came to me after you so unceremoniously tossed him from your doorstep.”

“I didn’t—”

“Look, I know you’re hurting, but I don’t fucking care. He has stuff to say you need to listen to, but right now he can get you into the room with Isaac, and that’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Hart deflated. Rage and impotence had wrung the last of his strength out of him. “Yes, it is.”

“Then wait here.” She shoved him into a plastic chair and set off for the elevators.

The footsteps rang clearly in the near-empty hallway, but he didn’t look up until a pair of legs in green scrubs appeared in his peripheral vision.

When he finally lifted his head, he had no idea what his expression said, but Toby opened his mouth, winced, closed it, and then said, “Come with me.”

They walked away from the ICU doors, through three corridors rounding the building until they stood before a small door with a card lock. Toby yanked at his ID card hanging off his hip where it came away on an elastic string so he could scan it. The door clicked. Toby let the card snap back, and he stepped inside, holding the door for Hart.

“Hold on.” Toby opened another door, looked around, then beckoned Hart inside. A rack against the wall held dozens of clean scrubs. Toby pulled a green scrubs top from the top stack. “Here. No one is going to let you in there covered in blood.”

Hart nodded, pulled off his hoodie and shirt, and yanked on the scrubs.

“Can we talk for a second?” Toby asked, putting a hand on Hart’s arm before he could walk back out.

“Later,” Hart said.

“No. Now, or you’re not setting one foot through that door.”

“Toby,” he snapped, yanking his arm free. Toby’s shoulders sagged, and Hart knew he was taking things out on Toby that weren’t his fault. Shit. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. Look, I was too hard on you the other day.” Hart took a deep breath. “And I’m sorry for that. I understand why you didn’t tell me the truth as a cop or a—a lover. But I should never have let it get as far as it did. It was unprofessional, and I’m not….”

“Available,” Toby finished for him.

“I didn’t know that at the time. Isaac and I—He’s the best friend I’ve ever had, but I never let myself….” He trailed off. Talking about Isaac with Toby wasn’t something he could bring himself to do.

“I guess I came on pretty strong, didn’t I?” Toby cracked a crooked smile, a ghost of the real one, but a beginning. Hart smiled back a little.

“You were pretty irresistible.” He sobered up quickly. “But that was no excuse on my part. I treated you unfairly. Look… I know why you came to my house that day, and I’m sorry I kicked you out when you were down. I’m—I’m sorry I can’t be what you wanted me to be.”

“It’s okay. I mean, it’s not, but I’ll get over it.” Toby smiled weakly. “No permanent harm done. And you’re a cop first. I’ve known Freddie long enough to know what that means.”

Hart nodded. If anything they were both at fault here, and there was nothing left to say. “I’m still sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Toby said. He blinked rapidly, eyes averted, then opened the door and started down the corridor again. Hart hung back while Toby talked to a nurse in the middle of a ward with single rooms that had frosted glass walls arranged in a circle around the central station. He watched Toby nod once and walk back over.

“Isaac is in room three. The bullet went clean through and didn’t hit anything vital. He’ll be fine. He’s awake, and you can go inside but not for long. I told them you were here for the investigation of his shooting.” For a second Toby looked like he might say more, but he squeezed his mouth tightly shut and walked away. Hart didn’t look back. Instead he headed straight for room three.

Hart couldn’t speak. Isaac’s eyes were closed, but nothing about the rest of him spelled sleep. He opened his mouth to say,
I’m sorry
, but the guilt ate at him.
You’re safe with me
. Lies, told a lifetime ago now. The time for empty promises had passed them by, the last of them spoken on a swinging hammock, sunshine and lingering arousal warming their limbs. He had nothing good to offer this beautiful, brilliant kid.

Isaac blinked at the ceiling. “Don’t.”

Hart forced himself to say, “Okay,” and stepped back toward the door.

“No. What I mean is, don’t blame yourself. This isn’t your fault.” Isaac’s lovely sea-blue eyes fixed on him at last. For someone who wasn’t blaming anyone, he still looked desperately bleak.

“If I hadn’t—”

“No.” The faint whisper was enough to shut Hart up completely. “You were perfectly clear on the dangers of me tagging along in your investigation. You warned me, and I went against your advice. This isn’t on you.” Isaac pressed a button on the controller, and the back of his bed rose up.

“It isn’t on you either.”

“I know that.” Isaac lifted his right hand, the IV tugging at his skin. “It’s bad enough that I know… I know what you’re gonna say. I don’t want you walking out of here feeling guilty on top of that.”

“You know what I’m gonna say, huh?” Hart stepped forward and threaded Isaac’s slightly cold fingers between his.

“Of course.” One corner of Isaac’s mouth lifted in a watery smile. “You forget how well I know you.”

“I’m no… I’m no good for you, Isaac. You deserve better.” Someone who didn’t lean on a bottle of wine for balance, or stare at fish for hours to calm his mind, or clean a kitchen counter three times in a row. Someone who hadn’t been balls deep inside the local orthopedic surgeon less than four days ago.

“I disagree, but that’s beside the point. Isn’t it?”

“I guess so, yes.”

“This isn’t about the age thing anymore, is it?”

“No,” Hart softly said. “I don’t quite know if it ever was.”

The bravery cracked a little, a small splinter in the shield of his composure. “You don’t have to do this,” he whispered.

“But I do. I can’t be selfish when it comes to you, angel.”

“You don’t know the meaning of selfish! I’ll tell you what I want. I want to live here in Brightly with you. I want to start a new life together. I want to get rid of all those hideous bathroom tiles and that sperm stain on the carpet, only we’ll keep that for last so we can always remember and get horny when we look at it. I want to put down hardwood floors. I want to build an aquarium in your father’s old house. I want to make love to you in every single room and fuck you on every surface. I want to grow old together and play the violin for you on the back porch.” Isaac’s grip on his hand was so tight a little blood ran up the IV. Hart rubbed Isaac’s palm to soothe him. “Now that I’ve had you, I don’t want to lose you. I want you to tell me you’ll still be there when I’m better. When this case is all over. But I will never have those things I want, will I? Never.”

Hart pressed Isaac’s hand to his cheek. “Don’t, my angel. Don’t make it harder for yourself. You’ll be just fine, you’ll see.” His throat burned when he saw moisture gathering in the corner of Isaac’s eyes. A single tear welled up and dripped down his nose. Gently Hart lifted a hand and wiped it away.

Isaac turned his face away and took a shuddering breath. It broke his heart to see him like this, and he didn’t want to be noble. He didn’t want to do the right thing, but his belief in doing the right thing was one of the last vestiges of solid ground he had left.

“Who was it that said, ‘Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened’?”

Hart laughed under his breath. “That was Dr. Seuss.”

“You’re laughing at me, but you know the quote, so joke’s on you.” Isaac shifted on the bed but hung on to Hart’s hands. “I don’t agree with it, is all. I think the sadness that something good is now behind you is one of the most profound feelings. Smiling because it happened diminishes its potency. The fact that you feel sad that something is gone means it was important enough to make you hurt. Cherish that.” Isaac squeezed Hart’s fingers. “Because it will fade soon enough. And once it has, that’s when you can smile again.”

“Aren’t I the one supposed to comfort you? You are too wise for your own good.”

“One of us has to be, and I know you’ve lost a lot of people.” Something passed over his face, a pallor and haunted look in his eyes that disappeared quickly. “And I’ve got mom and my brothers. They won’t allow me to mope for long.”