The Last Execution (32 page)

She slapped his dash. Her anger was close to getting the best of her, so J.T. tried to lighten the mood.

“Easy, Hotshot. I’m on your side.”

When he stopped at the emergency room entrance, Leigh turned toward him. She held out her hand. One look from her and he was toast.

“You’re not leaving. Are you?”

He pulled her open palm to his mouth and kissed her. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I’d like you to stay.”

“I’ll park and be right there.” He was fairly sure he’d never refuse her anything. If she needed him, he’d be there.

****

Thursday, May 13, 10:00 p.m.

Leigh read Ethan a story and kissed him goodnight. She’d left the hospital to spend a few hours with him after learning her mother’s condition wasn’t life threatening. Leigh couldn’t shut down her mind. She should’ve made Dad promise to call. He’d promised to eat, but she knew he wouldn’t. She gave in and called Dede to come sit with Ethan. Leigh picked up supper for her dad and returned to the hospital.

After flashing her badge at the night nurse to gain entrance, she eased inside her mother’s room and closed door. Leigh’s heart swelled with love at the scene. Her mom lay asleep in the bed. Slumped forward, her father dozed in a horribly uncomfortable-looking leather chair. One hand rested on his wife’s foot.

She tapped his shoulder gently, knowing he’d be startled. “Dad,” she whispered.

His eyes flew open. “What?” His gaze went to the sleeping figure.

“She’s fine.” Leigh held one finger to her lips.

“What are you doing here? I sent you home.” He shook his head as if to break loose the cobwebs.

“Making sure you ate.”

“You should’ve stayed with Ethan.”

“I spent a few hours with him before putting put him to bed. Dede came over.” Leigh moved around behind him where she had a better view of her mother. “You didn’t go eat, did you? Don’t answer. Come with me to the waiting room. I brought you a burger.”

He started shaking his head before she finished.

“I’m not hungry.”

She waved a sack in front of him. “Fries and a shake.”

“Strawberry?” He stood, eyeing the bag.

“Come on. She’ll never know you left. In fact, you’ll be in deep you-know-what if she wakes up and you haven’t eaten.” She looped her hand around his elbow and inched him out into the hall. “The concussion’s mild. She’ll be fine if we leave for a few minutes.”

Her usually happy father shot a nasty frown at a passing young doctor. “Dad, why the sour looks?”

“I’d like to give them all a piece of my mind. Those idiots in ER who put those staples in the back of her head should never have let her go home. They’re lucky I haven’t seen the emergency-room doctor who dismissed her.”

He bypassed the small waiting room and hit the elevator button. Leigh knew when not to argue. She followed him without question as they wove their way through the halls. Finally, he entered the family room next to the ER.

“Dad.” She tried not to sound like her mother. “Why did we come down here?”

“Sitting where I can eat and keep an eye out for one particular doctor.”

“Geesh. I’m not staying if you’re planning on making a scene.” She handed him the sack and got as far as the door before he called her back.

“Okay. Okay. I won’t say a word.”

She didn’t completely believe him, but she sat with him while he ate. “I wish you’d go home. Let me stay the rest of the night.”

“You’ve got a job to get to in the morning. I’m the boss. I can take off whenever I want.”

She hated to admit just how tired she was. She scooted to the edge of the chair thinking about her nice soft bed waiting at home. The hospital was a lonely place at night, and she hated to leave him alone. The place was deserted except for a couple of worried-looking adults and the porter’s cart.

****

Thursday, May 13, 11:45 p.m.

Doyle walked the halls of the hospital as if he owned the place. This time of night traffic in the ER slowed down and gave him the opportunity to visit with the staff. He walked into the waiting room and headed for the soft drink machine. His heart dropped to the tops of his shoes, and he barely stifled the choking noise bubbling up from his throat.

Detective McBride sat with her back to him. She was talking with an older man whose hair color matched hers. My God, he’d walked right by her. If she hadn’t been deep in conversation, she’d have noticed him for sure. Would she remember him?
Yeah. She would.

Could he get past her? Problem was she sat between him and the door
. Stay calm. Stay quiet.
People never really look at your face, but the fact she was a cop worried him. Cops were trained to notice things. He turned away and pretended to thumb through a magazine. She stood, and adrenaline shot his heart rate through the roof. From the corner of his eye, he saw her lean down and kiss the man’s forehead. The guy hugged her and waved when she glanced over her shoulder at the door.

An idea hit. He shuddered as chills raced across his scalp. Was this man her father? Only one way to find out. When she was out of sight, he joined the older man.

“How are you tonight?” He used his friendliest smile while his heart hammered against his rib cage. What if she came back?

“Good. You?” the man said.

“May I?” Doyle pointed at the chair across from the guy. “I’m waiting for news on my sister,” he lied.

“Please. I’m just finishing my shake before I go back upstairs.”

A fountain of information sat in front of him, ready to open up and talk. “You have family on one of the floors?”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Friday, May 14, 7:00 a.m.

“Hurry, Ethan.” Leigh raised her voice to emphasize urgency. She had to get him across the street to Dede’s house or he’d miss his ride to school. Ethan moved as if he was stuck in cold molasses.

“Coming.” Carrying his tennis shoes, he ran into the living room.

Dressed in jeans and a Falcons jersey, Ethan fastened the Velcro closure. He stopped and stared off into space. Leigh reminded herself six-year-old children hadn’t yet mastered the art of hurrying.

“Finish dressing.” She used her I’ve-had-enough-voice. At last, he slipped on the second shoe.

Leigh grabbed her purse and ushered her son out the door toward Dede’s house. She’d made it down the sidewalk before she realized he was way behind. “Ethan.” She turned toward him. “Hurry,” she demanded.

He ceased all movement, looking at her as if she were a total stranger. Innocent blue eyes were wide and full of confusion. Apparently bewildered, he threw his hands in the air.

“Can’t you see my feet going really fast?” He panted a dejected sigh.

Guilt slammed into her chest. Heavy guilt. Earned guilt. She’d taken her own inability to cope with her problems out on him all morning. She rushed back to him and knelt in front of him.

“You were walking really fast, and I’m sorry. I have no excuse for being cross.” She opened her arms and head down, he plodded into them. She breathed in his innocence. Love, strong and powerful, gripped her. He was her life. She’d die for him. Protect him at all costs. “Forgive me?”

“It’s okay, Mama. You’re worried about Mimi.”

His small hands patted her back, offering comfort. Thank God for innocent, unconditional love. Leigh sat back on her heels and looked him in the eyes. “How did you get so smart?”

His smile said it all. He’d forgiven her maternal griping and fussing in the blink of an eye.

“I take after my papa.”

“And I know who put you up to giving that answer.” She heard her father teasing her. After Ethan was born, she’d worried that someday he might demonstrate some of Jason’s traits, but time had proven her wrong. Maybe it was lack of exposure to Jason, she didn’t try to rationalize it. Leigh saw more of her father in Ethan every day. “You study hard today.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She held his hand and walked at his pace. “I have been worried about Mimi. She’s going to be fine. They’ll probably let her come home today.”

Ethan hopped and skipped the last few steps. Happy and full of life, he raced up the walk and rang Dede’s doorbell. His mood rubbed off on Leigh. After all, she’d been forgiven by the love of her life. She grabbed him by the backpack and hauled him in for a kiss before he dashed inside to join Dede’s eight- year-old son.

“We have a few minutes. Do you have time for coffee?” Dede asked.

“Not this morning.” Taking one last look at her son, Leigh hauled her buzzing phone from her purse and answered without checking the caller ID. “McBride.”

“Don’t you fucking hang up on me.”

Jason’s tone, harsh and demanding, smashed into Leigh. Red flashed in front of her eyes in one giant wave. “Leave my family alone.”

“Don’t you mean our family? That’s quite a secret you kept. Believe me, you’re going to regret having that bastard.”

“Never happen.” Pent up frustration bubbled over. “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.”

Dede’s eyebrows shot skyward. Her head whirled around toward the boys. Leigh moved back a step onto the porch and shut the door.

“But you didn’t.”

“Doesn’t mean I won’t if you don’t stay away from us.”

“Stay away? Why, Leigh? Don’t you think I’d make a good daddy?” His laugh was cold as death.

“Get this straight. You’ll never get near my son.” Anger became a living entity, wrapping strong hands around her lungs, and squeezing.

“Your son?” His voice screeched through the phone. “You mean that bastard who should’ve never been born?”

For a second, the hate in his voice sucked the strength from her bones. Leigh’s knees gave way, and she sat down hard on the porch steps.
No. Get up and fight back.
She got to her feet, fury burning its way through her.

He’d gone way past the cruel, selfish spoiled brat he used to be. Jason had become pure evil.
Maybe the sniper will kill him. Stop. You’re better than that.

“Stop this, Jason. Before I sent your ass back to prison.” She poured hate and venom into the statement. He needed to hear how serious, how determined she was to keep them safe.

“For what? It appears you’re the one who’s lost control, blaming me for your run of bad luck. Maybe you shouldn’t have custody of the child.”

The bastard disconnected. Damn him and his untraceable throwaway phone.

She called Karen Parker on the drive to work, relaying the conversation with Jason to voicemail, and requesting a callback. Talking with him had been a mistake. A big one.

****

Friday, May 14, 9:00 a.m.

“Goddamn her.” Jason threw the cell phone at the wall in his office. He stormed across the room and gave the phone a swift kick. “Don’t call me and don’t come near my family,” he mimicked Leigh’s whiny voice. “I’ll send you back to prison.”

“What’s going on in here?” his father demanded from the doorway.

“Get out,” Jason shouted, jabbing a finger toward the hallway. “Get the fuck out of my office.” The last person he wanted to speak with ignored the command. Daddy closed and locked the door.

“Do not use that disrespectful tone of voice on me. I find your language less than acceptable.” His father’s face reddened, eyes narrowed to a glowering snarl while he crossed the carpet. “You’d do well to remember who you’re talking to.”

Jason’s recent snort of cocaine filled him with power. He wanted another bump, but first he’d explain to the ignorant old fool that his intimidation techniques weren’t working. Disgust filled every fiber of his being. He scoffed his loathing before flopping down in his office chair. “Give it up, old man. You don’t scare me. Not anymore. Never again.”

“Your recent office behavior hasn’t escaped my attention, son. You’re unprofessional, irrational, and impertinent. I believe you may need counseling.”

Jason studied the asshole standing in front of his desk. Tall, with gray hair, wearing a two-thousand dollar suit and a stiff rod up his ass, he pretended to care about his son’s welfare.

Poor Daddy had been ashamed of Jason since the day he’d stomped the neighbor’s dog to death for barking all night. The old man had taken his son and the dead animal to the woods where they’d buried the carcass with the promise they’d never discuss it again. Daddy didn’t keep his word, because he’d thrown it in Jason’s face, reminding him of their little secret hundreds of times. Browbeat him with how hurt his mother would be if she knew about his mean streak.

Laughter bubbled toward the surface. Wonder what Daddy would think if knew his baby boy had killed Vick? Maybe Jason should tell his father how easy it was to cut the perverted bastard’s throat.

“I’m fine.” Jason stood, retrieved the throwaway phone from the floor where it had landed, and walked out. He had plans to finalize.

“Come back here,” his father called out. “I’m not finished with you.”

“Sure you are, Dad.” Jason flipped the words over his shoulder. “You were through with me years ago.”

****

Friday, May 14, 9:30 a.m.

Doyle ordered a third cup of coffee. His brain needed fuel. He paid the girl and returned to his table where he sipped and waited.