Close Encounters (19 page)

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Authors: Sandra Kitt

BOOK: Close Encounters
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Barbara was far less concerned about explaining why she’d gotten soaking wet than she was with a growing suspicion of how Mario intended to get even.

Mario couldn’t remember her name, but he knew where to find her.

He stepped off the crowded hospital elevator and pretended to be looking for a patient’s room. There was enough activity going on to prevent his presence from raising any notice. He scanned the corridor, looking for her, hoping he’d recognize her again.

He walked the entire ward and then turned around impatiently to retrace his steps. Suddenly a young woman in hospital garb stepped out of a room carrying several vials of medication in a small plastic tray. She glanced up and her eyes brightened.

“Mario! What are you doing here?”

He relaxed into an easy stance. “Hey…
mija
.” He grinned.

Mario let his eyes rake seductively over her as he bent and kissed her cheek. He held her attention with a look of appreciation for her feminine attributes. A look that, while not spontaneous, was real. “You’re looking good,” he drawled.

“It’s been a long time. Where you been? I thought you were going to call me.” The attractive brunette pouted prettily and looked up at him with a sharp gaze.

He shrugged. “Yeah, but you know how it is. I’ve been busy.”

She sucked her teeth and pitched her voice low. “
Goñyo,
man. Don’t give me that shit. You just like every other guy.”

“Naw, I swear. I been working…”

“Yeah? Doing what? You so busy you can’t call or come around? Last time I saw you, you practically chased me all over the fuckin’ ward.”

His smile grew warmer. Now he remembered her name. “Come on, Gina. I’m sorry I didn’t call, all right? I had things to take care of. My son’s mother was on my case ’cause she needed money.” His voice whined convincingly with the burdens of his life.

He glanced quickly up and down the hall. He didn’t like staying in one place too long. People saw you and they remembered. He shifted his position so that his back was toward the nurses’ station.

“’Member when I got cut that time and came in to get fixed? You got off duty and you came to see me? It was like midnight or something, and we snuck into that office and did it on the sofa.” He chuckled.

She averted her gaze before looking at him hopefully. Mario bent closer, whispering in a caressing tone to create instant intimacy and promise.

“I thought we was gonna get caught,” she whispered. “And you started bleeding again from that knife cut…”

He touched her arm. “And you stopped it. I didn’t think you could forget
that.
It was good, right?”

A slow smile began to play around her mouth as she glanced at him from beneath long, dark lashes. An intercom announcement near the nurses’ station brought them both back to the present. Gina looked down the corridor and back to him.

“I better get back to work. What are you doing here?” she asked again.

“I came to see you,
mija.

Gina became wary. “That’s bullshit,” she said, once again furtively making sure that no other personnel were nearby.

He persisted. “I thought we’d get together tonight. When do you finish?”

She rolled her eyes in frustration. “Fuck. I can’t tonight. I’m busy,” she added belatedly on a sly note.

He didn’t take the bait to show interest.

“How about tomorrow before you come in to work? You got time to see me?”

Gina debated, clearly wanting to, but not wanting to make it too easy for him. She shook her head. “I get off at three o’clock tomorrow. Come pick me up.”

He grinned at her. “Then what?”

“We can go to my place. That dickhead husband of mine won’t be there.”

“No?”

Gina shook her head in disgust. “I threw his ass out. He was fooling around with some bitch across the street. Let him go stay with her.”

Mario winked at her and kissed her cheek again. “So I’ll see you tomorrow. But I need something from you right now.” Her expression turned wary again. “Come on, Gina. It’s just a little favor,” he coaxed.

“What?”

“There was a woman on this floor a few weeks ago, a black woman named Carol Taggart. I need to call her about some business.”

Gina looked skeptical. “What kinda business you got with her?”

“It’s business,” he said a bit impatiently. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

Gina sighed. “Mario, I could get fired for telling you that.”

“You give me what I want… I give you what you want.”

She softened visibly under his seductive words. Mario knew from the way her nostrils flared that it was a done deal.

Chapter Eight

“P
LEASE LEAVE A MESSAGE AT
the beep. I’ll get back to you…”

“Hey, Carol. Where are you? I was hoping to—”

“Wesley—wait a minute—”

Carol fumbled with the phone, waiting out the recording mechanism as her brother’s voice was interrupted.

“I’m here, Wesley. Sorry about that,” Carol said.

“I was starting to wonder. Are you screening your calls?”

“Kind of.”

“What do you mean, kind of? Somebody bothering you?”

Carol hesitated, deciding to downplay the odd call she’d gotten the night before, when the caller had asked if she was Carol Taggart, only to hang up abruptly when she confirmed that she was. There was no point in worrying Wesley.

“Just wrong numbers,” she responded. “It happens.”

“As long as they’re not reporters. I told you I don’t want you talking to reporters unless you let me know first.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“When do you start back to work?”

“I started this week.”

“Didn’t the doctor tell you to take it easy? Jesus, Carol, it was only two weeks ago that—”

“Three. It’s not like I was at death’s door. Well, I was, but…”

“What are you talking about?” Wesley asked, puzzled.

Carol sighed. “Never mind. The doctor told me to return to my usual routine when I was ready. I did.”

Wesley grunted. “Doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“I went for my follow-up visit and I got the go-ahead to do just about anything. Except swing dancing and bungee jumping.”

“Cute,” Wesley muttered.

“I got a call from Ann. Mom tracked her down and told her what happened.”

Wesley groaned. “Jesus, I can’t remember the last time I spoke to her. How’s she doing?”

“Apparently very well. She’s engaged.”

“Engaged! Well, I’ll be damned.”

“Wes…”

“Sorry. Who is he? No, no, forget that.
Where
is he?”

“Tunisia. He’s a doctor with UNICEF.”

“Of course he is. Ann is like Rosemary Taggart the second, in search of a Jim Taggart.”

“I used to wish I could be more like Ann.
Nothing
ever seems to bother her. It’s as if she’s in a permanent state of grace.”

“I’m glad you’re not like Ann. She’s great, but as sisters go you were much more fun. Is she still in South America?”

“Until June. Then she and her fiancé are coming back to the States so Mom can help with the wedding plans.”

“Well, at least I know I won’t have to wear a tux to their wedding. Probably a sarong or…”

Carol laughed. “If you wear a sarong, I’m taking pictures for sure.”

“Mom and Dad are going to be
very
disappointed in you if you start in with blackmail.”

Carol, who had been strolling around her kitchen with the cordless wedged between her ear and her shoulder, wandered into the living room and took up residence in her favorite chair. Nearby, on the floor, was the sketch pad she’d been working in lately, open to her latest effort. As she settled down, Carol lifted the pad and stared broodingly at the image.

“Wes, I—I’m glad you called. I have something to tell you.”

“Okay, what is it?”

“First, you have to hear me out without saying anything.”

“Already I don’t like the sound of this.”

“And second, you have to promise me, you have to
swear
you won’t tell Mom and Dad.”

He grunted. “You’re always telling me not to swear. I can’t promise anything until I hear you out.”

“Well, if you can’t do it my way, then I have nothing to say.”

“All right, all right. I promise.”

Suddenly Carol’s heart began to beat faster with the anxiety of revelation. Wesley knew and understood her better than anyone alive, but even she was scared about his reaction to what she was going to tell him. She sighed audibly and braced herself.

“I—I think I know who shot me. It was a police officer.”

“God
damn
! Matt was right. There was no way—”

“Wesley, shut up,” Carol interrupted sharply. “I’m not finished.”

“Okay. I’m sorry. Just one quick question?”

“What?”

“How do you know that?”

“He told me,” Carol said simply.

“He… he told you? Who told you?”

“The officer. The one responsible.”

“He
told
you,” Wesley muttered. “I don’t believe this. Why confess? Unless he wanted to shift the burden of responsibility onto you, ’cause he sure as hell isn’t going to turn himself in.”

“He turned himself in to
me.

“That’s too easy!” Wesley thundered.

“He didn’t mean to shoot me. It was an accident. It happened very fast and—”

“Carol…”

“It was dark. I walked into a—”


Carol,
stop for a minute. Time out. Do you realize what you’re doing? You’re defending the bastard. Worse, it sounds like you’re blaming yourself.”

She closed her eyes, rubbing her temple. Her hands were trembling. “I know that,” she whispered.

“Why, for Christ’s sake?”

“Wes, I know he didn’t mean to do it. The fact that he came to me himself really made a difference. You and I both know that’s not how it usually turns out.”

“I’m sorry, but that doesn’t let him off the hook. Why aren’t you mad as hell?”

She sighed. “Because—because I’m alive. Because he apologized. Maybe because of Mom and Dad. All that stuff we were taught about forgiveness. The way I see it, I got a huge second chance that morning. Doesn’t he deserve one, too?”

There was a long silence on the line before Carol heard her brother sigh deeply. Of course Wesley would see the reasonableness of her argument. That didn’t mean he bought into the “forgive and forget” philosophy. Carol wasn’t sure that she did either, but what were the options? What would be gained by exacting revenge? What would be lost?

“Does this at least mean you’ve changed your mind about the lawsuit?”

“No, I haven’t. I’m telling you this because I want you to understand why I don’t want to sue.”

“It doesn’t make sense to me, Carol. What am I missing?” he asked impatiently.

“I don’t want to be a victim. I don’t think he wants to be one either.”

“Just how do you figure that?”

“If this gets into the press, it’ll be blown all out of proportion, and the minute I file suit, it
will
get out. You know it will. It’s too… sensational. Too juicy.”

“You could have died.”

“But I
didn’t.
Now, do I take my second chance, thank God, and get on with my life? Or do I scream for his head on a silver platter?”

“Forget his head,” Wesley scoffed. “Let’s take the money.”

Carol got up from her chair and began pacing nervously. “You sound like Matt.”

“I’m about to change my opinion of him,” he said dryly. “Look, I guess it’s very nice that this cop has confessed to you. So he has a conscience. But the police still owe you.”

“No one
owes
me anything!” Carol said sharply. “
No
one. It’s what I owe myself that matters. Jim and Rosemary Taggart did not
owe
me a family to make up for the one that abandoned me. They
chose
me. I wasn’t
owed
my life when I was shot. But I got it back. As far as I’m concerned, that’s payment enough.”

“So if I can’t persuade you to sue the city, why are you telling me this? Just to push my blood pressure through the roof?”

“I needed to tell someone. You know why? I suddenly felt like… like a traitor or something. There’s the expectation that because I’m black and there’s all that bad press about the police—”

“Well deserved, I might add.”

“That I’ll hang them out to dry and take the money and run. I told you as my brother, not as my lawyer.”

“Well, it’s not fair to drop all this on me and not let me do something about it.”

“Thanks, Wes. I don’t need to have anything done about it. And who said life was fair?”

“Lieutenant?”

“What is it?” Lee asked brusquely, already made impatient by a day of constant interruptions. He stopped several feet short of his office and faced the desk clerk.

“There’s someone here to see you. She’s at the front desk.”

Lee frowned. “She? Who is it?”

“A young girl. Erica.”

Lee’s annoyance turned instantly to concern. Erica never came to see him at the precinct. Besides, she should be in school right now.

“Send her to my office,” Lee instructed.

At his desk a moment later, Lee picked up the phone to call Carol Taggart and cancel their plans to meet. He wanted to see her, but his daughter would have to come first. The phone rang almost five times with no answer, which surprised him. He hung up as Erica walked in.

“Ricca,” Lee greeted her, noting that she wasn’t carrying her knapsack of schoolbooks. “What’s up, honey? You okay?”

He reached out to touch her face and watched as her blank countenance seemed to dissolve before his eyes. He’d barely touched her when she began to sob, squeezing her eyes shut.

Lee was stunned and then afraid. He quickly put his arms around her, holding her tightly. He was totally freaked that something terrible might have happened to her. Had she been accosted? Raped? He loosened his grip as Erica’s tears soaked through his sweater.

“Jesus, Ricca, what happened?” She mumbled something incoherent. “What?” Lee tilted her head back so he could look into her face.

“I… ran away.”

Dizzying relief poured over Lee. Running away was not a good move, but not nearly as bad as it might have been.

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