Resuscitation (51 page)

Al was shaking hands with everyone, celebrating as if he’d just won the California Lottery. The blow to the back of his head caused a minor concussion and the doctor warned that he might suffer from lingering headaches. But overall, he gave Al a clean bill of health. Sami stood in his shadow as they weaved toward Captain Davidson’s office. She hoped to remain as low-key as possible. Detective Osbourn approached her with a chimp-like grin on his face.

Osbourn offered his hand, but then withdrew it. “Screw the handshake. You deserve a hug.”

He put his arms around Sami and held her tight. “Congratulations.”

She really liked this young man.

“Have you heard about D’Angelo?” Osbourn asked.

Sami shook her head.

“His goose is cooked.”

“What happened?”

“Seems that he hasn’t been satisfied with his detective wages for quite a few years. You name it, and he’s done it. Extortion. Drug trafficking. Stolen property. Assault. The DA wants his ass. Looks like the poor slob is going to do time
and
lose his pension.”

Sami found it difficult to feel any sympathy for him. “You know what they say. ‘Mess with the bull and you get the horns.’”

Davidson poked his head out of his office. “Hey, Rizzo. Grab Diaz and get your asses in here.”

Al was still busy celebrating. The precinct looked like the locker room of the Super Bowl champions, minus the champagne. Sami grabbed Al’s arm and dragged him to the captain’s office.

“Mayor Sullivan is delighted. She wants to take both of you to lunch next week.”

“All the credit goes to Sami,” Al said. “All I did was a high-wire act.”

“Whatever the case,” Davidson said. “That asshole got what he deserved. I just feel sorry for his family. Turns out, he had a wife and two daughters. It’s a damned shame.”

The captain pulled a cigar out of his desk, carefully unwrapped it as if it was a sacred ceremony, and lit it. “I’ve been waiting for a long time to find a reason to smoke this cigar. It’s a Montecristo. Best cigar in the world.”

“You do know that Cuban cigars are illegal, right, Captain?” Sami said.

He took a long hit and filled the room with blue smoke. “So arrest me.” The captain smiled a rare smile. “Let’s get serious. How’s the O’Neill girl?”

“She’s out of surgery,” Sami said. “Doctor Templeton is pleased with how everything went. But no matter what, he says she needs a transplant as soon as possible. Unfortunately, heart donors are hard to come by.”

“Well,” the captain said. “Let’s hope for the best.” He handed Sami an envelope. “Open it.”

“It’s a bit early for a Christmas card, Captain,” Sami said.

“But not too early for a raise.”

Sami tore open the envelope and pulled out an official-looking letter signed by Police Chief Larson.

“Congratulations,
Sergeant
Rizzo,” the captain said. He handed her a new gold shield.

Sami couldn’t form a syllable.

Sitting right next to her, Al leaned over and gave her a quick hug. “You deserve it, Sami.”

“How did this come down so quickly?” Sami said. “I mean, we just solved the case a few hours ago.”

“This has been in the works since we reinstated you,” the captain said. “It’s just a coincidence that it became official today. I’m not sure about you, but I think the timing couldn’t be better.”

Sami glanced at Al and noticed a strange look on his face. She’d known him long enough to be sure that his sentiments were sincere. Still, he had to feel slighted.

“I want you and Al to take a week off—with pay, of course. Compliments of Mayor Sullivan. Go have some fun. Plant a tree. Go on a cruise. Or just watch soap operas all day. Now get the hell out of here while you can. But remember one thing, Sergeant: Along with your shiny new badge and title come more responsibilities and more politics. Be ready for a shit-storm when you return.”

Sami sat across from Doctor J and wasn’t sure how to start the conversation. When Sami had contacted her, she hadn’t expected to get an immediate appointment. She guessed that the good doctor was making a concession on her behalf.

For the first two days of Sami’s vacation, she wore her favorite lounging pajamas day and night and didn’t once leave the house. It was now time to integrate back into the world.

“You must feel an incredible sense of relief,” Doctor J said.

“If another serial killer shows his ugly head,” Sami said, “I’m packing my bags and moving to Montana.”

Doctor J laughed. “Tell me, you haven’t been in this office for quite a while. What brings you back?”

“Brain damage.”

“That’s rather vague. Please elaborate.”

She explained to the doctor about Al’s trip to Rio and about his affair with the Brazilian nurse. “He’s begged me to give him another chance, but I’m not sure I can ever trust him again.”

“Are you in love with Al?”

“He calls me three or four times a day, wanting to meet for coffee or join him for lunch. I keep telling him that I need some time. He never argues with me or tries to convince me to meet him, but I sense he’s getting impatient.”

“You’re not answering the question.
Are you in love with him
?”

“I was.”

“And you feel that his affair has extinguished your love?”

“I’m sitting here with you because I don’t know what I feel.”

“And you expect me to figure it out?”

“I’m just looking for some guidance.”

“That can only come from your heart. I can tell you what to do, but this is a decision only you can make. If you don’t feel you can ever trust him again, then I can assure you that at best your relationship with Al will always be on shaky ground.”

“How can I trust someone who’s betrayed me?”

“Under the right circumstances, good people do bad things, Sami. From what you told me, Al was in a terrible place sitting by his sister’s side, uncertain whether she’d live or die. He had no one to comfort him. It’s my guess that your voice on the telephone and support was not enough. This wasn’t about sex, Sami. Al didn’t cheat on
you
. He simply needed a safe harbor.”

“I’m really growing weary of everyone telling me that it wasn’t about sex.”

“Well, Sami, it may not be what you want to hear, but in most cases of infidelity, it’s
not
about sex.”

“Suppose he does it again?”

“Then you’ll be faced with another decision. Life is a series of crossroads, some significant, others less important. Each and every day of our lives, we reach these crossroads and have to decide which way to go. If you’re looking for perfect love, or searching for a flawless man, you’d better prepare yourself for a rough ride.”

Sami thought about her words, but as poignant as they were, she still didn’t know what to do. There was one fact, one monumental fact, she neglected to share with Doctor J. Maybe she just needed to sit down with Al and bare her soul.

After Sami left Doctor J, she headed home, but impulsively made a U-turn on Genesee Avenue. Doctor Templeton had called Sami yesterday and said that McKenzie O’Neill had regained consciousness and was responding to the surgery much better than anyone had anticipated. Never having met her, she decided to visit her at the hospital and introduce herself. She wanted to meet this courageous young woman face-to-face.

When she pulled into the parking garage, she was overcome with an eerie feeling. This is where it all happened. Saint Michael’s hospital would never be the same.

She found her way to the entrance, and hopped on an elevator to the sixth floor. She’d heard from Doctor Templeton that McKenzie would remain in the ICU for at least another two weeks. She wasn’t sure if McKenzie was still in the same hospital room, so she went to the nurses’ station.

As luck would have it, Nurse Oliver was on duty. The nurse looked up from the chart she’d been studying, stood, and smiled.

“Detective Rizzo, so nice to see you.”

She wanted to correct the nurse. After all, she
was
a sergeant. But did her title really have any impact on anyone other than her?

“Hello, there. How you holding up?”

“Still a little shaky, Detective. It isn’t every day you’re part of a CSI series. I’ve spoken to a number of people and everyone is in shock that Doctor Youngblood was the Resuscitator. It certainly is disconcerting that such a well-respected doctor could be a cold-blooded killer. I guess one never knows where evil lurks.”

“Sometimes the least likely people have the darkest souls.”

Nurse Oliver nodded. “What brings you here, Detective?”

“I’d like to visit McKenzie O’Neill. Can you tell me what room she’s in?”

“Sure thing.” Nurse Oliver checked her computer. “She’s in a private room—six forty-five.” She pointed. “Go down the hall and turn right.”

“Thank you,” Sami said.

“Have a nice visit, Detective.”

When Sami walked into the hospital room, McKenzie appeared to be sound asleep. She tiptoed to the side of the bed and sat on the metal chair. The young woman’s body looked like something out of a horror movie. She couldn’t find a visible place on her body that didn’t have a hose or wire attached to it. She saw a heart monitor, an oxygen sensor, and other equipment she didn’t recognize. Sami could hear hissing and sucking and pumping sounds. She guessed that McKenzie was heavily sedated because no one could sleep through such a racket.

One nurse after the other zoomed in and out of the room, checking her vital signs, adjusting IVs, making notes on McKenzie’s chart. That she slept through it all, amazed Sami. The nurses were cordial, but said little more than hello.

After waiting for more than an hour, Sami decided that McKenzie wouldn’t soon awaken. Just as she was about to leave, a nurse walked in.

“Hi there,” the nurse said. She gave Sami a once-over. “You’re the detective that figured out Doctor Youngblood was the killer, right?”

Sami nodded.

“We haven’t had that much drama around here since the bomb threat back in the mid-nineties. Did he really jump off the roof?”

“That he did.”

“God rest his soul.” The nurse walked toward her. “I’m Sister Mary.”

“Detective Rizzo.” As soon as the words came out of her mouth she realized that it would take some time for her to get used to her new title.

“Have you been here long?” Sister Mary asked.

“For more than an hour.”

“I guess you’re tired of waiting, huh?”

“I was hoping to talk to her, but it looks like she’s going to be sleeping for a while.”

“Actually, I’m here to wake her and prep her for surgery.”

Sami felt goose bumps all over her body. “Is there a problem?”

“Quite to the contrary. It seems we found a donor. She’s scheduled for a heart transplant in less than an hour. Her new heart is on ice right now.”

Sami couldn’t believe her ears.

“When I wake her I can give you a few minutes alone with her if you like.”

“I appreciate the offer but I’ll come back in a few days. She’s got more important things on her agenda than chatting with me.” Sami fished through her purse for a business card. “Would you be kind enough to call me after her surgery and let me know how she’s doing?”

“I’d be happy to, Detective.”

“I’m curious though. When I spoke to Nurse Oliver, she didn’t say a thing about the transplant.”

“That’s because the call came in a short time ago. We don’t waste any time with heart transplants. Everything happens pretty quickly.”

“Who’s the donor?”

“A young man in his mid-twenties was in a motor vehicle accident as a passenger in his friend’s car.”

Sister Mary walked to the bedside and checked the flow of the IV bag.

“Tell me, Detective, do you believe in miracles?”

“I never really thought about it much.”

“I think you’re Ms. O’Neill’s guardian angel.”

“Why do you say that?”

“We had little hope that we’d find an ideal donor for Ms. O’Neill. Her blood type is O negative—the rarest type of blood. She can only receive an organ from an O negative donor. But because it’s so rare, she was number one on the waiting list. That some young guy in Northern California with O negative blood would suffer fatal injuries seems statistically unbelievable. Especially when you consider that the driver of the car walked away with only a broken nose from the impact of the air bag. To make it even more mind-boggling, not only does the blood type match, but the tissue samples are compatible, and the chest cavity of the recipient is perfectly proportioned to accommodate the size of the donor’s heart.”

“I still don’t think I’m anybody’s guardian angel.”

“It gets better. It just so happens that the young man’s driver’s license identifies him as a registered organ donor. Just to add even more food for thought, he didn’t die until he arrived at the hospital, which ensured that his organs could be harvested while they were still viable. All this happened while you were quietly sitting here in her room.”

“I guess you could call it a miracle, but one person had to die for another to live. Where’s the miracle in that?”

“According to the victim’s father, his son suffered from chronic cystic fibrosis, an insidious disease. The young man was always in pain. In a way, his death might have been more merciful than what he was facing alive. In fact, his father said his son’s death gave his family a sense of relief. They didn’t know how much longer they could endure watching him suffer. His father was happy that the young man’s heart would live on.”