Dying to Know (31 page)

particularly like the way things
are
.”

She jumped to her feet and headed for the living room door.

“Neither do I. But finding your killer isn’t going to change any-

301

thing. Anything for you, that is.” And she was gone out of the

room.

A moment later, I heard her on her cell phone in the kitchen.

She was talking with Ernie and venting about everything she’d

learned from Sarah. She even invited him along to Paul Livings-

ton’s the next morning. Just what I needed.

Ernie might be her boss and long-time family friend, but

sometimes he was just a plain pain in the ass. His commiserating

about her chasing my killer wasn’t going to help my cause. I

needed Angel to do my bidding and help find whoever was re-

sponsible for all the pandemonium. Good-old Ernie was going to

pour cold water on any spark I had lighted in her.

That wouldn’t do.

Listening to Angel debating with Ernie, I began feeling jittery,

as if the house was sitting over the San Andreas Fault and it was

becoming unhappy. The room shifted from side-to-side and

Hercule faded from my sight. That strange, tingling invaded me

as it always did when it sent me elsewhere.

And it did again.



When the electricity subsided, I was standing in the familiar haze of nowhere. Through the emptiness, Doc Gilley seized my arm

and shook me. He looked perturbed. There was intensity in

him—his face agitated and his eyes grave.

What did I do now?

“Hey, doc, where you been? Boy do I have questions …”

302

“There’s no time.” Doc kept looking over his shoulder as if he

was expecting someone to appear. “Get back to the hospital—

now.
”

“What’s wrong?”

“Oliver, focus.” He pointed off into the haze. “I can’t do this

for you. I’m not connected to them—just you. I can’t intervene.”

“Doc, you’re freaking me out. What is it?”

He pointed into the haze again, but now it was starting to take

form. “Don’t you feel it? Don’t you feel the danger? Focus, Oli-

ver.”

Just once, I wish he’d call me Tuck. “Come on, Doc. I want to

ask you about …”

The lights flashed on and the haze evaporated. The beeps and

hums of electronic monitors and André’s respirator startled me. I

was standing in the ICU hal , outside André’s observation win-

dow into his room. The inside curtain was drawn and only a

shadow shown through. There was no one nearby except a duty

nurse at the far end of the hal , and she was busy banging away

on a computer behind a chest-high counter.

Something was wrong.

There was no cop outside André’s room. Even the chair was

gone. Inside the room, a shadow began moving and I felt a pang

of danger.
Oh, shit.

In a blink, I was standing beside André’s bed. He was still un-

conscious and unable to summon help—he didn’t even know he

needed it. Across from me was the one man every cop in the

county was looking for—Lucca Voccel i—
Lucca Tuscani
. He was fiddling with the medical control panels surrounding André. He

303

read the switches while his fingers flipped from one to the

other—he was trying to find the fastest way to finish André Cart-

ier.

“You bastard.” He didn’t hear me. “Stop.”

Tuscani’s efforts sent out a warning beep and realizing his

error, he grabbed the cords and began ripping them from the

wall sockets, flipping buttons to silence their alarms. After the

third plug, the monitors went dark and I knew we were minutes

from André’s last breath.

“You son-of-a-bitch.” I tried everything—shouts, the ghost-

mind meld, and I even returned to the hal way to seek help. The

nurse at her station was oblivious to me. There was a doctor with

her now, but neither saw nor heard me, and they were too far

down the hall to see the danger in André’s room. No one knew.

No one knew he was being murdered.

Tuscani leaned over André’s motionless body to check his

breathing. André grimaced and I knew he was fighting back.

Something was awakening in him and his body was trying to de-

fend itself. His eyes fluttered but didn’t open. His muscles

twitched but no arm rose to defend himself.

“Leave him alone you bastard.”

I tried grabbing the power cords for some juice and energy—

they were unplugged and no power brought me to the rescue.

Panic surged.

Tuscani snatched a pillow from behind André’s head and cov-

ered his face. He leaned his weight forward and began to kill

right in front of me.

No.

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Flailing everywhere, I found the nurse call buzzer and

grabbed hold of it. Desperately, I tried to suck in the power—

command enough strength to stop Tuscani before André suc-

cumbed. The buzzer above the door flashed and I held on, drain-

ing all I could from the mere trickle of electricity flowing through it.

I felt it.

An almost unnoticeable tingle of strength spread from my

fingertips and moved upward. It wasn’t much, but it was build-

ing, ebbing up my arm and deeper into me. André coughed and

tensed beneath the pillow stealing his life. I couldn’t wait any longer and lurched forward, grabbing Tuscani’s hands. I squeezed

them hard and funneled the power in me into him. Rage clamped

my fingertips deep into his flesh and I twisted hard and violent.

It worked.

His eyes bulged and he jumped back from the bed in panic—

the pillow fell to the floor. He went pale and he looked right at

me. His mouth opened for a scream but no sound erupted.

The bastard saw me.

“Boo.” I lunged at him.

“What in the hell?” He tripped backwards, collided with the

medical cart, and stumbled again. “Get away from me. It’s you.

Damn, it’s you again.”

It was nice to be remembered.

Weakness ebbed in and that damning lethargy started to ooze

into me. The power that just saved André was waning and bleed-

ing me out. In a second, he would be alone and vulnerable.

305

No. I had to fight. I had to keep André safe … alive. I had to. I

focused all I had left on Lucca Tuscani as he stood frozen facing

me. I had to fight him.

No, it would be okay.

The door burst open and Mike Spence charged in. He lunged

forward and grabbed Tuscani’s arms. He spun him around and

away from André’s bed. He yanked him forward, drove a knee

into his abdomen, and landed a crushing left into his face. An-

other knee. Another left.

Tuscani belched air and staggered, trying to free himself.

Spence slammed him face-first into the observation windows.

The curtain fell away as Spence hammered several more blows

into his kidneys.

Tuscani whirled, twisted free, and landed a powerful punch

into Spence’s face. He followed with a groin kick and a two-fisted hammer-drive into the side of his head. Spence faltered and fel

back; down to one knee fighting for breath—pain exploding on

his face.

Tuscani pounced.

I tried to intervene but my energy was spent. There was noth-

ing left. Surprisingly, I didn’t disappear from the room as I had

before whenever my energy was drained too thin. Yet, all I could

do was watch as Tuscani pummeled Spence with punch after

punch—kick after kick. I was helpless.

We were in trouble. Spence was down and once out, André

was next. Spence tried to rise and draw his automatic but Tuscani

anticipated him. He lunged and kicked the gun from Spence’s

grasp just as it cleared his holster. He kicked Spence in the mid-

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section. Spence staggered and fel . Tuscani grabbed one of the

medical carts and smashed it atop him, stomping it down into

his body with crushing force.

There was no fight left—Spence was done.

“Freeze, Sheriff’s Department.” Detective Calvin Clemens ran

up the hall with a uniformed deputy two steps behind. Clemens’s

gun was out, determination raging. “Freeze.”

Tuscani groped beneath the cart and returned with Spence’s

nine-millimeter. Instead of finishing him or André, he fired two

shots out the door to clear his path and made his escape in the

wake.

More fractious orders—two more shots—three. Running feet.

Shouts. Crashes. Nothing.

It was over. Tuscani was gone—for now.

Had I not witnessed it, no one could have convinced me—

Detective Mikey Spence saved the day. Was anyone who I

thought they were?

307

fift y-six

By eight the next morning, Angel had finished her breakfast

and I the third rendition of Tuscani’s attempt to kill André. We

were waiting for Ernie to arrive for our trip to Strasburg and he

was late. Angel called Bear for an update on André, and I could

tell he was not thrilled that she learned of the attack before anyone—including the media—got wind of it.

“And how in the hell did you know all that?” He groaned.

“Never mind, you’ll just tell me …”

“Tuck was there. Spence saved André.”

He didn’t answer.

“Bear?”

“Angela, listen. Spence pulled the guard off André’s door. He

was waiting down the hal . I’ve already complained to the Cap-

tain.”

“He set a trap?” Angel’s face turned fiery red. “Using André?”

308

“You know Spence. He figured someone might try to get to

André a second time. And while I hate to say it, it almost worked.”

“Please check on André again,” she said, and then sent Bear

into a fit. “I’m going to Strasburg to see Paul Livingston.”

“Livingston?” Bear shouted through the speaker. “What about

Livingston?”

She explained about the clues from McCorkle’s sketches and

Sarah’s bracelet. He wasn’t amused he was just hearing about it

al . In fact, he wasn’t amused at anything she’d said this morning.

“Jeez, Angela. You gotta tell me when things happen. Not the

next day. You stay away from Livingston. And that bracelet is evi-

dence—so I want it. No, you’re not going.”

“Ernie’s going with me.”

“No, Angela. I’ll check him out myself. You stay away from

him.”

Silence. Then, Angel said, “Fine. But let me know what hap-

pens.”

“Good. I’ll call later. I’ll come by for the bracelet later this

morning.”

When Bear hung up, she retrieved her purse and picked up

her keys. “If he thinks he can tell me what to do, he’s wrong.”

Bear touched a very sensitive nerve in my Angel—she never

liked being bossed around. A few minutes ago, she wanted no

part in my investigation. Now, thanks to him, she was all about

crime fighting.

“Okay, Angel, I guess you’re going anyway.”

“I can handle myself just fine. We’l see what I can find out

without him.”

309

There was a knock on the front door and Ernie walked in. He

looked like a wreck. His hair was disheveled, his face pale, and he was out of breath. When he trudged into the kitchen and plopped

down in a chair in front of the coffee pot, he let out a heavy sigh and dropped his head into his hands. I’d never seen him as dis-jointed as he was now and it was unnerving.

“Angela, did you hear about André? Incredible.”

“I just spoke with Bear,” Angel said. “Spence set a trap for

Tuscani. They nearly caught him.”

“Oh? They’re sure it was this Tuscani fellow? This is out of

control and getting worse. I hope they know what they’re doing.”

“They’ll figure this all out, Ernie. They have to.”

“Yes, yes, You’re right.” Ernie changed the subject. “Show me

what that girl, Sarah, gave you.”

Angel went into the den and returned with the folded paper

bag Sarah gave her. She emptied it on the kitchen table. She

handed the silver bracelet to Ernie.

“It was very beautiful once,” he said, toying with it in his

palm. “Handmade, too.”

“Sarah gave us these gold coins, too. They’re very rare, 1881

twenty-dol ar pieces. Are they similar to those you had?”

“I think, perhaps, they are.” He held one and studied it. “I’m

certain of it.”

“Poor Nic has a collection of these in his den. And he’s miss-

ing several of them, too. I think …”

“No. Take them away.” Ernie closed his eyes and dropped the

bracelet onto the table. “Please, I don’t want anything to do with them if they’ve caused all this misery.”

310

Angel sat down beside him and moved the coins around the

table like chess pieces on a board. “Ernie, you probably can tel

me more about these than anyone. I’d like to know what you can

tell me before we go see Livingston.”

He frowned. “Wel , I cannot go with you this morning. Tyler

Byrd called. He wants to discuss Kel y’s Dig and he’s adamant I

see him at ten this morning. He says all the tragedies are ruining him. He wants my help, of all people.”

“That’s all right, Ernie. I’ll be fine.” She put the coins and

bracelet back into the bag.

“Perhaps you should wait for Braddock.” When Angel shook

her head, he smiled and stood up to go. “Then be careful, An-

gela. You shouldn’t be going to see this Livingston fellow alone.

But I know you, I’ll never talk you out of it. If that bracelet is the cause of these murders, you could be in danger.”