Tunnel Vision (25 page)

“Not a safe neighborhood, I gather.”

“Some
pendejo
must have been desperate for a ride to want that piece of shit. No self-respecting gang member would be caught dead in it. I figured some kid took it for a joy ride and the damn thing broke down again.”

“There were a couple of spots that looked like dried blood in the cargo area. Any thoughts about that?”

“Nope. If there was blood there at some time it coulda been from before I bought it.”

“How long have you owned it?”

“Maybe a year, year and a half. It rolled and passed inspection, which was all I cared about.”

“How are the classes going?” Maggie asked, changing the subject.

“Pretty hard to believe most of these idiots made it into graduate school.”

“Keeping up Brauner’s high standards, I

presume.”

Obregon laughed easily. “Yeah, I guess so. They all thought Brauner was a mean sonuvabitch. Now he’s been replaced by an even meaner motherfucker.”

Maggie had to smile. “You know, Mr. Obregon, I thought you’d be a little more hostile about answering more questions from the police.”

“Why?” he shrugged. Leaning forward and resting his forearms on the desk, he studied his hands for a moment before speaking. “I had a long talk with Helen...Dr. Brauner. She’s a real class act, ya know?

Told me a lot of stuff I didn’t know, about her and the doc. I’ll be receiving my Ph.D. in Microbiology in another couple of months. Dr. Brauner, the old man, actually recommended me for a teaching position that’s coming vacant at his alma mater. Can you believe that shit?”

“Congratulations,” Maggie smiled. “You planning to take it?”

“What kind of fool would turn down a position at Columbia? It’s a chance to leave my past behind. A new start.”

“I hope you’re half the teacher Dr. Brauner was.”

“Yeah, me too, Detective,” he smiled.

“I’ll let you know when you can pick up your van from the impound lot. Looks like you’re going to need it since you’re planning to move.”

Despite the fact she was usually cynical about people, she was glad things were working out for Tony Obregon. He had broken away from the gang mold and his future looked promising.

“If you think of anything you think we should know concerning either the theft of your van or Dr. Brauner’s death...,” she began.

“I’ll give you a call.” He smiled slightly. “I hope you catch whoever killed the doc.”

“Eventually we will, I’m sure,” she said as she left the small office.

Since she had completed her interview fairly quickly, Maggie found a bench in the shade outside the Biology Building and sat down. Pulling her notebook from her shoulder bag, she was glancing over her notes from interviews when her thoughts were interrupted.

“Making any progress, Detective Weston?” a man’s voice said.

Looking up and squinting against the sunlight filtering through the trees, she saw Daryll Chambers and a young woman approaching the bench.

“Mr. Chambers,” she said. “How are you?”

“Sweatin’ the last couple of months,” Chambers answered. “Leaving this weekend for a little trip.”

“Going to the beach?”

“I wish,” he said. “I have to fly back east for a job interview.”

Maggie glanced at the young woman with

Chambers. She was an attractive blonde with blue eyes. Every college man’s dream, she thought.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Detective. This is Karen Dietrick,”

he said. “Karen, honey, this is one of the detectives working on the Brauner case, Detective Weston.”

Maggie stood and shook hands with the young woman. “Are you a student at the university?” she asked.

“I’m in grad school here, but I work over in Admissions,” the young woman offered.

“Are you graduating this year, too?”

“I have one more year to go. Hopefully it will go by as quickly as this year has because I’m more than ready to be out of school.”

“I can understand that,” Maggie smiled. As she looked toward the parking lot, she saw Royce striding toward their car. “Well, it looks like my ride is here,”

she said. “It was nice to see you again, Mr. Chambers, and good luck with your interview.”

She extended her hand to Chambers. He seemed surprised by the gesture and as he took her hand, a set of keys fell to the ground between them. She squatted down and picked them up. Before she handed them back to him, she noticed a bright gold medallion attached to the key ring. Flipping it over, she examined it closely.

“This is beautiful,” she said. “I noticed it the first time I interviewed you. Is it a religious medal?”

“Yeah,” Chambers laughed lightly as he took the keys. “It was a gift from my mother. She thinks I need all the help I can get.”

“Well, it’s lovely. Where did your mother find it?”

“I think she picked it up when she was in Costa Rica last summer. Probably just a cheap trinket from some town market,” he answered.

“It’s supposed to be the thought that counts,” she said as she began to walk away. “Have a safe trip.”

“HOW DID THE interview with the girlfriend go?” Maggie asked as she buckled her seat beat.

“Actually, she seemed like a very nice lady,”

Brodie said as she turned the key in the ignition.

“Naturally she confirmed everything we already knew about Obregon.”

“He’s been offered a teaching position at

Columbia,” Maggie said. “Seems Dr. Brauner had recommended him for an opening before he was killed. He’ll be leaving in three or four months.”

“Was that Roth’s assistant you were talking to?”

Brodie asked as she backed the Camaro out of its parking slot.

“Yeah. He’s leaving this weekend for a job interview himself.”

Brodie pulled a cell phone from her jacket pocket and handed it to Maggie. “Hit the speed dial and get hold of Nicholls. See if we need to pick him up.”

BRODIE WAS AWAKENED from a sound sleep by

an incessant ringing sound. It was dark outside and at first she thought it was the alarm clock. She turned her head and the red numbers showed one thirty-five. Suddenly she realized it was her telephone. She climbed groggily out of bed and made her way toward the living room, being careful not to trip over Max. She turned the switch on a table lamp near the phone and picked up the receiver.

“Brodie,” she croaked, clearing her throat.

“RB, you better get over to Cedar Memorial right away.”

“Who the hell is this?” she asked, holding the phone on her shoulder and rubbing her face as she spoke.

“It’s Nicholls. Wake up, Brodie.”

“What’s going down at Cedar Memorial?”

“It already went down. Weston’s been hurt. I don’t know how serious it is, but an ambulance was dispatched to take her in. I got a call from the desk officer a few minutes ago.”

“What...”

“I don’t know what happened for sure yet, but the desk sergeant said she was assaulted.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Brodie said.

She dressed quickly, pulling on old jeans and a tshirt. Max followed her with his eyes without raising his head. He had become accustomed to late night calls.

She jumped in her Camaro and lit a cigarette, holding it tightly between her teeth as she backed out of the driveway and sped toward the hospital. She arrived in less than ten minutes and parked in the emergency room parking lot. They didn’t appear to have many customers. She saw an ambulance backed into the emergency bay as she entered the automatic doors and approached the slightly overweight young woman seated at the triage desk. She had an attractive face that would have been more attractive with less makeup and less baby fat.

“You have Margaret Weston here?”

“Are you a relative, ma’am?”

She answered by pulling out her badge and

flashing it at the clerk.

“Let me check, officer,” the young woman said as she got up. She went to the doors leading to the treatment area and punched numbers into the security lock. In less than a minute she reappeared at the door and motioned for Brodie to enter.

“They brought her in a little while ago. She’s in Treatment Room Four, but you won’t be able to talk to her. She was unconscious and the doctor is with her now.”

“How serious are her injuries?”

“I couldn’t say,” the clerk said. She looked around the treatment area and pointed. “There’s the policeman who came in with the ambulance. You might talk to him.”

“Okay, thanks. Listen, my partner should be arriving in a few minutes. Tall, handsome blond surfer type named Nicholls. Send him back, will you?”

The clerk nodded as Brodie crossed the treatment area toward the police officer. She recognized him as Patrolman Carl Adams. He was talking to a cute ambulance attendant who seemed to be hanging on his every word. Brodie had hated hospitals since she had been wounded. The antiseptic smells. The whispering voices. Everyone seemed to be going about their business without a sense of urgency, even when it was urgent. The treatment area had six identical rooms and the ones she passed were full of men, women, and children dressed in ill-fitting hospital gowns. From what she could see, it looked like the usual collection of croup and ear infections that kept parents up at night. Two of the patients looked healthy as horses and she wondered if they just didn’t have any other way to kill an evening. Adams ended his conversation with the ambulance attendant when he saw her striding purposefully toward him.

“What’re you doin’ here, RB?”

“I was called about Maggie Weston. I’m her TO. What’s the story?”

“Well, she got the shit beat out of her, that’s for sure. I don’t know how bad it is.”

“Has anyone been arrested?”

“No. She managed to use her cell to dial 9-1-1, but was unconscious when we arrived at the scene.”

“She’s got parents in Westlake. Tell the desk sergeant to call them. The father’s name is Timothy Weston. If he’s not in the book, get the number from her personnel file.”

Adams walked across the treatment area and pushed the doors open. On his way out he passed Nicholls.

“How is she, RB?”

“Don’t know yet.”

“What the hell happened?”

“Don’t know that either. We won’t know much until she’s conscious.”

The door to Treatment Room Four opened and a doctor came out. His hair was disheveled and he looked like he had been on the job way over eight hours. She estimated his age as younger than Maggie’s. He pushed his glasses up and looked at the two staring at him.

“Are either of you a family member?” he asked.

“Police,” Brodie said. “But I’ve sent for her parents. How is she?”

“She’ll be all right in a few weeks. We’re still waiting for a few tests to come back. She has a concussion and a slew of bruises. Her nose is fractured, as well as her left cheekbone, but they’re hairline fractures. She took a pretty good thrashing, but it could have been worse. Lots of defensive injuries on her arms so she obviously put up quite a fight. We had to put in a few stitches, but there shouldn’t be any permanent scarring.”

“Can we talk to her?”

“Yeah, but not too long. I had to sedate her. Once she regained consciousness, she became pretty agitated.”

Brodie turned to her partner. “Tell the clerk at the desk that her parents will be coming.”

Nicholls nodded and left as she slipped quietly into the treatment room. Maggie was lying on a gurney with a sheet pulled over her. The fluorescent lighting made her look whiter than normal. It reminded Brodie more of an autopsy room than a treatment room. She felt a shiver run down her spine as she realized she could have lost Maggie again, permanently. A tray near the gurney held a variety of instruments, a bloody green cloth lying under what appeared to be a stitching tray. Maggie’s face was puffy and swelling had already begun around her nose and eyes. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing evenly. Brodie noticed the bruising on her arms. An IV line ran into her left arm. As Brodie quietly approached the side of the gurney, she saw a fresh row of five or six stitches running above Maggie’s left eyebrow, an inch or so below her older scar.Brodie gently touched Maggie’s forehead to brush a few stray strands of hair away from the sutures. The touch startled Maggie. She raised her arm defensively as her eyes opened and darted them around the room. When she saw Brodie standing over her, her eyes filled with tears. Brodie had seen the same frightened look in Maggie’s eyes years earlier when she awoke in another emergency room.

“Don’t look at me, Royce,” her voice cracked.

“The doc says you’re going to be okay,” Brodie said. “Your folks will be here soon.”

Maggie nodded slightly, grimacing as her head moved. Tears escaped from her eyes and ran down the sides of her face. “I’m so tired,” she mumbled.

“Stay with me, Mag,” Brodie said, struggling to sound calmer than she felt. “Tell me what happened.”

Maggie blinked hard and closed her eyes.

“When I got home I discovered I was out of milk. There’s a little convenience store a few blocks from my place and it was a nice night.” Maggie paused and her eyes closed.

Brodie shook her shoulder gently. “Maggie. What happened next.”

“It was dark. I didn’t see anything and don’t remember much after being grabbed. I’m sorry, Royce.”

“Just rest, Maggie,” she said.

Brodie brushed another strand of hair away from Maggie’s face and let her hand linger for a moment along her cheek. Maggie’s eyelids fluttered as the sedative finally took control. Brodie felt a lump growing in her throat as she leaned down and kissed Maggie on the forehead. Stepping away from the gurney, she turned to leave the room, but before she reached the door it burst open, revealing Tim and Peg Weston along with two of Maggie’s brothers. They had all dressed hastily and Peg didn’t appear to be fully awake.

“You!” Tim hissed when he saw Brodie. “Wasn’t once good enough, you fucking bitch?”

Ignoring his accusations, she pushed past him and continued out the door. Peg Weston went to the side of the gurney and took her daughter’s hand, looking shocked at the sight of her battered face. Tim glanced at Maggie and followed Brodie out of the room, grabbing her by the shirt and shoving her forcefully against a wall. She broke his hold and shoved him away. Sean Weston grabbed Brodie’s arm as she advanced toward her former commander, fist clenched. She jerked her arm away and glared at Tim, now being restrained by his son Liam.