TRIAL BY FIRE (20 page)

Shaking his head, Dave pocketed his ID, then pulled up a chair and sat down.

She fought her way back through the flames. Even in the dream, she knew if she could get back somehow, the room
would be there waiting for her with the odd but reassuring steady beep of all those machines that told her she wasn’t dead.

She was grateful to know she was still alive, and she hoped that the nun would be there, too. The nun with the magic finger that could press the button and take away the pain, the pain that was even now howling at her. Screaming at her. And she would have been screaming, too, if it hadn’t been for the ventilator. That’s what it was called, she realized. The thing in her throat that made it so she couldn’t speak was a ventilator.

But where was the nun? The woman with a face that was stern and calm and kind. Maybe this time, Sister Anselm wouldn’t be here. Maybe this time she wasn’t aware that her help was needed, but it was. The pain was roaring back, overwhelming her.

Just then Sister Anselm’s steadying face reappeared over the bed, filling the patient with a sense of wonder. Was she an answer to a prayer? How did she know she was needed? What made her come into view at just the right time? Maybe she didn’t go away at all. Maybe she was there in the room the whole time, close but somewhere out of sight.

This time, though, Sister Anselm didn’t push the button, not right away.

“Does the name Mimi Cooper mean anything to you?” she asked urgently. “Blink once for yes and twice for no.”

She tried to gather her thoughts. She tried to concentrate on the name. Mimi Cooper. Was that who she was? Was it possible she was that woman? But the name didn’t seem familiar to her. Not at all. There was no part of the name Mimi that resonated in her head. Shouldn’t your name go with you no matter what? Isn’t that the one thing about yourself that you would always know and remember? Well, maybe not if you had that
disease, that old people’s disease—what was it called again? She couldn’t remember the name of that, either, even though it was right on the tip of—well, not on the tip of her tongue. Because she couldn’t talk.

“Blink once for yes and twice for no,” Sister Anselm commanded.

She blinked twice. The name Mimi meant nothing to her. She couldn’t be a Mimi. That sounded like a silly name. A stupid name. Surely that wasn’t hers.

Sister Anselm was speaking again. “There’s a man outside,” she said. “A man who thinks he know you. He says his name is Hal Cooper. Do you know him? Blink once for yes. Twice for no.”

I’m not stupid!
she wanted to shout.
I know the code. You don’t have to keep telling me over and over.

“Do you know him?” Sister Anselm insisted.

I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe that name sounds familiar even if Mimi doesn’t, but I’m not sure. How can I be sure?

She blinked several times in rapid succession. That was part of the code, too. Many blinks for “I have no idea.”

“He would like to see you,” Sister Anselm said. “So he can know for sure, but I’ll only allow him to come into your room if you want to see him. You don’t have to. You’re under no obligation.”

Someone wants to see me? Someone who thinks he knows me? What do I look like? I must look awful. I know I look awful. My hair isn’t combed. Do I even have hair?
She would have touched her head to check, but of course she couldn’t move her hands.

“Blink once for yes, twice for no,” Sister Anselm commanded.

She thought about that while trying to hold the pain at bay.
She wanted to beg the nun to push the button and send her back into oblivion, but another part of her wanted to know.

If this man knows who I am, if he can give me back my name, I need to know that, too.

It took an extraordinary effort on her part. She had to battle back at the pain and concentrate long and hard before she was finally able to blink. Once only.

Once for yes.

Dave pulled a waiting room chair close to Hal. Then he removed a tiny tape recorder from his pocket, switched it on, and placed it on a nearby table.

“I’ll need to ask you a few questions,” he said. “In case the woman down the hall does turn out to be your wife.”

“Sure,” Hal said. “I’ll answer any questions you want. Whatever you need.”

The teenagers seated nearby were transfixed by this process, but Ali knew what was going on. As long as Hal hadn’t been identified as an official suspect, Dave was free to ask him anything he wanted without having to read the man his rights. That would change if, at a later time, Hal Cooper was moved onto the list of declared suspects. At that point, he would be read his rights, and any statements made in the course of any “official” interview would be checked for consistency with this first, presumably “unofficial” one.

Ali understood that was the basic premise behind all interrogations. Crooks lie, and catching them in a small lie often leads to catching them in bigger ones. Damning ones.

For her part, Ali continued to listen in on the conversation, all the while tapping away on her keyboard, taking notes for her own benefit as well as for Sister Anselm’s.

Initially, during their first few minutes together, the information Hal Cooper gave Dave was much the same as he had given Sister Anselm earlier. He did, however, add a few embellishments, including the fact that, at age fifty-six, he was fifteen years younger than his wife.

That detail caught Ali’s attention.
He’s as much younger than Mimi as B. is younger than I am,
she thought.

“You want to hear something funny? It’s how Mimi and I met,” Hal admitted. “She bought me at an auction.”

“Excuse me?” Dave asked.

“It was a charity bachelor auction to benefit the symphony two years ago last spring,” Hal explained. “It was a big, splashy event. Mimi was one of the cochairs. It was her first big social venture out after her first husband died. She bought me for top dollar, thinking she’d found a foolproof way of fixing her daughter up with somebody nice.”

“I take it that didn’t work out too well?” Dave asked.

Hal laughed aloud at that comment. “Are you kidding? Serenity despised me on sight. She told her mother that airline pilots were nothing but a bunch of glorified bus drivers. She also said that I was way too old for her. Mimi told her, ‘Well, he looks pretty good to me. If you won’t go out with him, I will. I paid a lot of money for him, and for a donated dinner at Vincent’s, and I’m not going to waste either one.’ ”

“So you ended up with the mother instead of the daughter?” Dave asked.

“Yup,” Hal said. “Mimi and I went out on the charity date, and then we went out again. We had one great time and then
another. The rest is history. Next week we’ll be celebrating our first anniversary. It’s great for us, but maybe not so great for her kids, for her son and daughter, Winston Langley Junior and Serenity. They both think I’m far too old for Serenity but much too young for their mother. They think I’m some gigolo type who came sniffing around after Mimi’s money, but that’s not it at all. Never was. I love her.”

“It’s safe to assume you’re not on good terms with either of Mimi’s kids?”

“No. Not especially.”

“How would the children fare as far as their mother’s estate is concerned if Mimi were to predecease you?”

Hal gave Dave an appraising look. “Before Mimi and I got married, I volunteered to sign a prenup. I’ve been an airline pilot for years. I’m not exactly on poverty row, so I thought a prenup between us might settle some of Serenity’s hash, but Mimi wouldn’t hear of it. She told me, ‘I spent thirty-five years putting up with Winston Langley’s womanizing shenanigans. The kids got their fair share of their father’s estate, but I paid for mine the hard way—by being married to the bastard. I don’t tell them what they should or shouldn’t do with their money, and I’ll be damned if Serenity or Junior is going to tell me what to do with mine.’ Those may not be her exact words, but you get the idea.”

Dave nodded. “In other words, if your wife dies first, you’d be her primary beneficiary.”

“Correct,” Hal answered. “The only beneficiary. When I die, whatever’s left after that goes to her kids in equal shares, but you need to know Mimi’s money isn’t what I wanted, and it’s not what I want now. I’m hoping and praying that I’ll be able to get my wife back someday, alive and well.”

“Of course,” Dave said soothingly. “I understand.”

Sitting and listening, however, Ali wasn’t convinced Dave was buying Hal’s story, and his next question confirmed that opinion.

“When did you leave town again?” Dave asked.

Hal would have to have been dumb as a stump not to realize that he was already under suspicion, stated or not, but he answered readily enough, repeating much of what he had already told Sister Anselm about his being out of town. It seemed to Ali that Hal Cooper was being cooperative and more than forthcoming, but she also realized, as Dave did, that when a wealthy woman became a victim of foul play, most of the time a greedy husband turned out to be the culprit.

Sister Anselm emerged from room 814. Hal rose and hurried toward her. “Will she see me?”

“Yes,” the nun said with a nod. “She will, if now is a good time.”

Hal Cooper breathed a relieved sigh while Dave switched off the recorder.

“She’s awake at the moment,” Sister Anselm told him. “She’s due more pain meds very soon, so I’m afraid if this is Mimi, you won’t have much time.”

Nodding in agreement, Hal started for the door, but Sister Anselm stopped him before he could enter.

“I must warn you, Mr. Cooper,” the nun cautioned. “This woman has been severely injured. Even if she turns out to be your wife, she may not recognize you.”

Hal stopped abruptly. “Are you saying Mimi may not know who I am?”

Sister Anselm nodded. “That’s correct. She’s suffering from some degree of amnesia. She’s also on a ventilator due to smoke inhalation. If you try speaking to her, you need to know that
she won’t be able to respond in anything other than yes or no answers. One blink for yes; two for no.”

“All right then—”

“One more thing,” Sister Anselm interrupted. “Have you ever been around a patient who has suffered major burn injuries?”

“No, but—”

“Do you play poker, Mr. Cooper?”

“Some,” he said, frowning at her. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because I’m hoping you’ll be able to put on a poker face. What you’ll be seeing in that room will be nothing short of shocking. If this is Mimi, she’s not the same woman you left behind a week ago. Up to now, I don’t think she’s given much thought as to how she looks, but it’s important that when you see her, you try to hold your reactions in check.”

Hal paled a little and swallowed hard. “Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I was in the military. No matter what, I’ll be fine.”

“Excellent,” Sister Anselm said briskly. “I’m glad to hear it. Come along.”

Once again the pain was swirling around her. It was too much. She couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t bear it. Where was the button? And where the hell was that nun? Why didn’t Sister Anselm come? Wasn’t she supposed to be here? Wasn’t that her job?

Suddenly she was aware of some other presence beside her bed. Not Sister Anselm. Not one of the nurses. Someone else was standing there next to her. Then a face appeared above hers—a man’s face, contorted with something that was half sob and half smile.

“Hello, there, honey bun,” he managed. His voice shook as he spoke. Tears sprang from his eyes. “How’s my Mimi girl?”

Suddenly, over the pain and somehow above it, she heard the words and recognized the gentle voice. She knew the grayish blue eyes peering down at her, and the strained features on his shockingly pale face.

Hal!
she thought.
He’s found me at last. He’s here!

Just as suddenly she felt overjoyed. She knew Hal’s name. She recognized his face. At least she remembered that much.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “That wasn’t a yes or no question. I can see how you are. You’re hurt, damn it. Do you know who I am?”

Yes!
One blink. One very long blink.

“Do you know I love you?”