Vengeance (22 page)

"It's okay." Lucinda propped herself up on her elbows and looked groggily at me. Her face was bleached white with bright spots of color high on her cheekbones. A white sheet covered most of her lower half. "What are you doing here? Why did you bring Cerberus? How did you find out about the accident?"

"Sir, you need to leave and you need to take the dog," the orderly said from the ambulance doorway. "I'll call Security if you don't."

"Oh, hell, I don't care. He can stay." Lucinda sagged back on the gurney and closed her eyes. She looked like a small, broken, ragdoll.

"Are you family?" the female paramedic said, leaning over to unclasp a strap from a mounting on the side near Lucinda's head.

"How is she? What happened?" I couldn't see any obvious injuries. Lucinda sounded coherent and her eyes were focused--on me. I hesitated when I saw the fury seething in their gray depths.

"I'm just bruised. So you can leave now and go back to Cara. She sent you, right? Cara always was a coward. She hates the sight of blood. I suppose she sent you to check up on me so her precious deal with Robert won't get fucked up." Lucinda looked up at the paramedic. "Sorry for the bad language."

"No problem." The woman smiled reassuringly at her.

"Ma'am, sit back, please." This came from another paramedic, a Hispanic man who was dancing around Cerberus, me, and all the equipment stuffed into the ambulance. "Sir, if you aren't family you need to leave." He touched a lever on the side of the gurney and started to move it toward the open door.

"He's not family. He's just sleeping with my slut of a sister." Lucinda twisted on the gurney as she glared up at the ceiling. "Ouch. My arm hurts. How come?"

I inched closer to her. "I'm not sleeping with Cara."

Lucinda raised her head to stare at me. The look in her eyes made the Hispanic paramedic take an involuntary step back. "I caught him with my sister on his lap and her blouse open. They were a belt buckle away from sleeping with each other. So don't split hairs with me, buster." Her head fell back on the pillow. "Ow. That hurt."

Both paramedics turned to look at me. I heard one of the orderlies behind me say "Oh, shit," in a very soft voice.

"Ma'am, if he's bothering you, just say the word," the burly orderly said. He glared at me, hands opening and closing. I didn't relish the thought of taking him on in a fight. He had fifty pounds on me and he looked as solid as a rock.

"He's bothering me, but I can handle it," Lucinda said. "As soon as I'm up, I'm going to whap him on the head. Then I might kick him. I'll figure out something."

"I bother you?" I asked, leaning over the gurney. "Do I?"

She wouldn't meet my gaze, but I could tell her eyes were red-rimmed and teary. "You know what I meant."

The female paramedic said, "I suggest you leave now. Just wait inside the hospital." She shoved the gurney forward and I scrambled out of the way. "We're taking her for X-rays." She looked under the gurney. "And take your dog with you."

No. I'm staying
.

"It's her dog." I felt like I was floating, dizzy and light-headed. I'd seen the forgiveness in Lucinda's eyes. She was still hurt, angry and upset, but she would forgive me, I knew it. I would have to pay a price for it.

I was willing to pay anything.

"Liar. He's not my dog." Lucinda spoke to the ceiling, avoiding my gaze. "You lied about everything, you son of a bitch."

"I did not. I meant every word I said. And I'm not leaving. I'm just giving them some room to work since your stupid dog won't leave."

"He's not my dog."

"Is too," I shot back as I jumped out of the ambulance.

The skinny orderly reached past me to help the paramedics lower the gurney. "You said you were her doctor?" he asked me, skepticism palpable in his voice.

"He is not. He's no doctor." Lucinda's loud grumble was easily heard. "He's a travel agent. Of course, he was playing doctor with my sister."

"I'm a doctor." I moved back so they could move the gurney. "And I'm acquainted with the family."

"He's intimately acquainted. With certain members and certain members of the members, if you get my meaning. Ouch. What are you doing?" Lucinda raised one hand weakly.

The burly orderly looked at me. "Sir?"

I fumbled open my wallet and extracted the ID card that identified me as a Research Fellow at Mayo Clinic. Since I funded a department there under a fictitious name, I was somewhat able to dictate who was hired. Dr. Nick Hayden seldom appeared at the clinic, but I did occasionally lecture on gerontology.

The orderly examined the ID then the Hispanic paramedic jumped down from the ambulance and joined our little huddle. "You can be here, but you can't be in the ambulance with her." His eyes went past me to the open door of the ambulance, where Cerberus still crouched, glaring at us. "And your dog can't be in there either."

"It's her dog."

"It's not my dog," Lucinda called out as the gurney trundled past. "It's his dog."

"How bad is it?" I asked, moving away out of earshot.

The Hispanic paramedic moved with me. "We're not sure yet. Could you please just step back?"

"Nico?"

I was at Lucinda's side in a second. "What? Can I help? What is it?" She looked wan and tired but there was still a bit of fire in her eyes. She hadn't forgiven me yet.

"Will you call John? I need someone to look after the kittens." She glanced up then refused to look at me again, plucking at the sheet and staring past me to the door of the hospital.

"I'll do it. What do I need to do? Please, Lucinda. Let me help." I covered her hand with mine but she wiggled it out of my grasp.

She gestured to Cerberus, who had jumped down from the ambulance and now peered up at her from under the gurney on the side opposite me. "Get him out of here. Will you call John, please? Can't you do that much for me?"

I heard the barely controlled tears in her voice. "Of course. I'll call John." I'd call him after I got her home from the hospital and not before. If John Fairchild was as deeply involved with "slime" as Sheila thought, I wasn't going to let him near Lucinda while she was vulnerable.

I touched her hand again then stepped away. "Come on, Cerberus. Let's go."

I don't want to leave her
, he whined, sniffing at Lucinda's outstretched fingers and giving them a tentative lick.
I want to stay here
.

Cerberus was tangling with the gurney's wheels. I reached for him. "You can't go in there. Get out of the way."

"Quit being so mean," Lucinda said, slapping at me as she was wheeled past. "He's just trying to show his concern."

"So am I." I leaned over the gurney, touching her face.

"Yeah, right, I'm sure you're so concerned." She waved her hand. "Get me away from him, the big jerk."

The burly paramedic intervened. "We'll have her in Exam Room 4. If the doctor there will allow it, you can come in."

I blessed the cachet of a Mayo Clinic ID card. "Thanks." I gestured to Cerberus, who was staring mournfully at the gurney as it vanished into the brightly lit emergency entrance. "Come on, dog. Back in the car."

I want to be with her. I want to make sure she's okay
. He turned aside, giving me a look of such beseeching that I almost felt sorry for him.

I'll handle it
, I said.
I know, I know--you don't trust me to do it right, but there are some things only a human can do and this is one of them. Just wait in the car. I'll make sure she's okay then I'll come back out
.

Promise?
He limped toward the Jag, head low and shoulders slumped.

"I promise." I opened the back door and he got in, laying his head on the front passenger's seat headrest and peering at the door where Lucinda had disappeared.

I moved the Jag to a less conspicuously illegal spot around the corner, hurrying back to the emergency entrance. It was easy to find the exam room, a curtained alcove among so many others. I slipped inside as a portable X-ray was wheeled into the space and film was taken then watched the nurses and physician before stepping outside the curtains once I was certain Lucinda was in capable hands. A quiet spot near a supply closet buffered me from the noise and I pulled out my cell phone, dialing the first number Sheila had given me.

"Hey, it's your buck, start talking."

I recognized Joannie's cheerful greeting. "Joan, it's Nico Haidess."

"Oh, hey, Nico, we were just talking about that accident. How's the lady doing?"

I could imagine tiny, blonde Joannie, her petite frame taut with anger. "We're at the emergency room. Looks like some bruising, maybe a fracture."

"Man, she's lucky. That was one bad accident. That bastard SUV came out of nowhere, Nico, just like a big old bat out of hell. I was driving a truck and it made my pickup look tiny. Before I knew what was happening, that SUV swerved, hit her, pushed her then drove off. I got the license number, but by the time I realized what was going on, I couldn't stop easily. I called 911 right away, though, and I circled back to check and make sure the cops got there. Those boys were fast."

As usual, it was almost impossible to get a word in edgewise, but I managed. "Joannie, do me a favor, okay? Run that license number and leave me voicemail with what you find."

"Already on it. No problem. You need backup tonight at the hospital?"

I heard Lucinda's voice raised in the curtained exam area. "I will not stay overnight, I have obligations. I promise I'll rest when I get home, but I am going home. You're not keeping me overnight."

"I don't think she'll be here that long," I said. "I'm staying with her at her house tonight, so I think we'll be okay. I don't think anyone will move against her while I'm with her."

"I don't know about that." Joannie's doubt came through loud and clear. "If this is one of Parker's boys, you aren't going to stop them."

"It's not Parker," I said with a certainty I didn't feel. I heard Lucinda's raised voice again. "I have to go. I'll call if I need help. Run that license for me, okay?"

"We're working on it. Talk to you later."

I folded up the phone as the attending ER physician came out. "You're her doctor?" he asked, pulling off his gloves.

I nodded. "What does it look like? How bad is it?"

The doctor was young, but exhaustion and too much responsibility made him look much older. "She was lucky. She has lacerations on her arms, a bruise on her forehead from the airbag. She's probably going to be sore tomorrow from the seatbelt too, but nothing's broken and there wasn't major trauma." He shook his head. "I see these car-SUV accidents all the time. Most of them don't end this nicely."

His words confirmed my hopes. "I'll be going home with her tonight." I saw his surprised look and added, "Until her brother arrives. How soon can we leave? I need to call him."

"Another hour or so. Paperwork." He moved down the hall, passing two State Patrol officers who were striding toward me, grim looks on their unremarkable faces. I was glad to see them. I wanted some answers about what happened.

"Are you Nicodemus Haidess?" the younger of the two asked.

I kept my face still. I recognized that preemptive tone of voice. I'd heard it often from figures of authority. "Yes."

"Please come with us," the older one said. I noticed how his partner flanked me, effectively preventing me from moving away from the wall where I stood.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're wanted for questioning," the younger officer said. "Please come with us."

"Questioning about what?" I managed to angle away from his grasp, surprising him so I could start walking down the hall, back to Lucinda.

"The murder of Daniel Dawson."

"I don't know Daniel Dawson." I paused out of earshot of Lucinda's alcove. "I'd like to ask you some questions, though, about this accident." I jerked my head toward the curtain. "Are there any witnesses? Did anyone see what happened?"

The older officer stepped in front of me, his body tense. "You need to come with us, sir."

"I need to be with Miss Delacroix. I told you, I don't know anyone named Dawson."

"We have a witness who places him at your house last night. You were the last person to see him alive. You'll have to come with us."

I struggled to remember where I was the night before. So much had happened in such a short time. Had it only been two days ago I met Lucinda for the first time?

"I don't know what you're talking about." Then it hit me.

David Delacroix was dead--again.

I had to be careful or I'd end up in prison. For a man who's immortal, that's a fate worse than death. "I'm afraid I don't know anyone named David Dawson."

"Daniel Dawson," the younger officer corrected me.

"I don't believe I know anyone named Dawson. I did meet with a gentleman last night." I ignored him, focusing on the older one, who watched me with a rigid impassivity that seemed inbred in peace officers, executive secretaries and higher ranking military personnel. "He said his name was..." I pulled a name from the front page of a newspaper I saw lying on a nearby chair, "Michael Johnson."