Shoot from the Lip (35 page)

Emma ran into the room and embraced me, pulling Kate into the hug as well. “I am so sorry,” she whispered. “This is all my fault.”

I withdrew and held her by the upper arms—too roughly, I suppose. “Don’t you ever say that. Don’t you ever blame yourself for wanting the truth.”

These were the words I wanted to say to Kate and couldn’t. Because that was what Jeff would have told them both. He hunted down the truth and made sure people paid for their crimes. For him it was simple, yet so important. And victims or family members taking responsibility for the crimes in any way? Well, that was simply wrong in his book.

I let go of Emma and apologized. “It’s just that Jeff wouldn’t want you saying that.”

DeShay mumbled, “You got that right, sister.”

One of the uniformed officers silently brought a chair over so Emma could sit by us.

She did. “I came here to Hermann Hospital as soon as I heard, but it was chaos in the emergency room waiting area, so many police and reporters. Someone from a TV station spotted me, started asking questions. I had no answers, and that’s when she told me this man Foster had exchanged my sister for a dead child, that he killed my mother. She said he’d been shot and was taken to Ben Taub Hospital, so I went there.”

“Why would you ever do that?” Kate asked.

“I don’t know—at least, my conscious mind didn’t know. I guess I thought I could walk in and ask him why. That’s all I wanted, really—to know why. Kravitz must have been hanging around there, because he found me. Before he could talk to me she walked in with her ... daughter. A police officer whisked them away pretty quickly.”

“Who are you talking about?” I asked, even though I was pretty sure I knew.

“Foster’s wife ... and his daughter. She looks like Shannon. And so much like my mother.” Tears welled. “That one glance may be all I’ll ever get of my sister. And then I thought about you again and I had to come back here. You’ve paid such a high price for—”

I put a finger to her lips. “Quit that. Jeff’s the strongest person I’ve ever met, and he’ll pull through.”

Nods in the room, like silent amens.

Minutes that seemed like hours later, a woman in surgical scrubs appeared in the doorway. “Next of kin?” she said solemnly, scanning the grim faces in the room.

I felt sick, felt like I was falling off the earth.

DeShay took my elbow, lifted me from my chair, walked me over to face this tired-looking, sober messenger. “This is Jeff’s next of kin,” he said.

She didn’t question whether that was true or not. She just started talking. “We had to remove the spleen. And repairing his lung was delicate, but my team and I believe we have a decent outcome. The bullet passed between the ribs and lodged near the heart, so the length of the surgery—”

“Is he going to be all right?” I sounded impatient and harsh and maybe a little crazy. I didn’t care.

Her smile was small and tight. She had no laugh lines and I imagined that smile was probably difficult for her to produce. “Yes. I believe he will make a full recovery.”

The room erupted in whoops. There were hugs and high fives, and despite the clamor, I heard the doctor say, “He’ll be in recovery for at least an hour before being transferred to ICU. You can visit him once he’s settled. Don’t be alarmed by all the tubes. We’re giving him blood, draining his lung, monitoring every part of him.” Then she got out of there as fast as she could.

Kate and Emma wrapped their arms around me. We swayed with joy, my face wet with tears. Then DeShay joined us. He buried his face in my hair, and his strong hand on my back felt wonderful. I put an arm around his waist, and then suddenly the room grew quiet again and we released one another.

The chief of police had arrived. He said, “Don’t let me stop the celebration. We’ve had wonderful news about our fellow officer, Sergeant Jeffrey Kline. I want to personally thank all of you for being here for your brother, for giving your blood, for offering your free time, for comforting Jeff’s partner and his good friends. Carry on.” He looked at me then.

I never thought I’d hear a damn speech in a hospital. The chief walked over and picked up my hands. “Abby Rose, correct?”

I nodded, wondering how he knew.

“I understand you and Sergeant Kline are very close,” he went on. “This has been a horrendous day for you and for the rest of your family—the women this criminal took hostage. On behalf of the city, I want to thank you for your assistance in bringing this man to justice. Do not entertain any fear that charges will be filed against you.”

Charges?
I couldn’t believe this. I take down a bad guy and he’s talking about charges? And somehow this all felt rehearsed, insincere.

“There is one more favor I ask on behalf of Houston. It is my understanding that a television program has been following this case, that they even lost one of their investigators—a man who was guarding the home where the hostage situation took place.”

I hadn’t even asked what happened to Kravitz’s man, had totally forgotten about him. I swallowed hard. “Oh, no. He’s dead?”

“Apparently when Mr. Foster brought your sister to the house, he ... he
eliminated
him before this investigator could call for help.”

I looked at Kate. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her lips were trembling, her face streaked with tears. “I-I couldn’t think about that. Couldn’t have
you
thinking about that. Not until we knew if Jeff would be okay.”

“But ... but you watched him kill someone, Kate.” I looked at the chief. “That’s what you’re saying, right?”

He nodded. “Paul Kravitz is currently in the media room we’ve set up. He called nine-one-one and—”

“No, the other reporter, Mary Parsons, did that,” I said. “That bastard Kravitz disappeared.”

“Seems you’re unaware we had two emergency calls about the incident. Kravitz called from his man’s car, stayed with him, hoping he could be revived. Help was on the way as soon as Sergeant Kline went down, but you acted swiftly, probably avoided a prolonged and dangerous hostage situation. We all admire your courage, not to mention your marksmanship, Ms. Rose.”

But he was about as genuine as a furniture salesman. Why? What was going on?

Kate sniffed, and I found her hand, grasping Emma’s with my other.

“That said,” the chief continued, “we would like you to cooperate with the television crew. Their program will bring positive publicity to Houston. As I understand it, the parent production company has already agreed to assist one very special family. Their arrival in town set the wheels in motion that helped Sergeant Peters and Sergeant White close several cases with your assistance. Please cooperate with Paul Kravitz, if you would.”

Ah, now I understood. The TV connection again. I wanted to tell him I wouldn’t be talking to anyone, that I would be sitting by Jeff’s side until he was well enough to walk out the hospital door. Then another thought pushed everything else away. I turned to Kate. “Oh, my gosh. Doris. We have to phone Loreen and tell her Jeff will be gone for a while. When I called her, she promised not to tell Doris anything until ... well, you know.”

Kate rested a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll take care of all that.”

How could she be so calm? But I knew this would hit her hard soon enough. And I would be there for her.

The chief extended his hand. “Thank you, Ms. Rose. We are in your debt.”

We shook hands, and then he was gone.

 

As the chief mentioned, the media was camped out at the hospital in their own conference room. They’d already been on high alert because Hollywood had come to town, and now everything had exploded into front-page news—hostages, another murder, a wounded officer fighting for his life and the suspect himself injured. Yeah, stuff like that drew plenty of reporters.

To avoid them, Kate and I had to sneak up the stairs to visit Aunt Caroline after we were told she’d been admitted for observation.

She sat propped in her hospital bed with probably half the pillows on this ward. Her hair was a mess, and the dark circles under her eyes coupled with her pale skin reminded me of a panda. I could tell she was in pain despite the lack of facial expressions due to her latest round of Botox injections. The discomfort showed in her eyes.

Kate told me Foster had tied Aunt Caroline to a dining room chair, and the chair had fallen over when she struggled—and I could certainly picture her struggling. She’d been through the wringer forward and backward today.

Aunt Caroline’s first words to us were, “What took you two so long? No one’s told me anything, and it’s given me a giant headache.”

I don’t think I’d ever been so happy to hear her being her usual cranky self. Kate and I explained where we’d been and that Jeff would be okay. I kept a careful eye on my watch during this conversation, anxious for the time when I could get into ICU to see him.

When we were finished explaining, Aunt Caroline said, “Kate, I hope you understand why I had this man investigated. I didn’t like him from the minute I set eyes on him and my instincts were correct.”

“Um, can we save the gloating for later? You’ve both been through hell today.” I glanced at Kate, but she seemed to have cut off any emotion. Her face was impassive.

Aunt Caroline said, “It’s not gloating; it’s ... it’s ...”

She’s
at a
loss for words? Don’t tell me
she
might be having
a small
epiphany?

“Abby’s right, and I’m sorry, Kate,” she went on. “You were very brave and very calm, and I drew strength from you today.”

Kate said, “Thank you. And I’m sorry I put you in harm’s way.”

Aunt Caroline reached out a hand, and Kate took it. “I love my girls very much. Love them enough to get involved in their lives. Now. As for that very excellent young man, Terry, you have foolishly abandoned. I think—”

“Not now,” I said firmly. Jeez, I felt like my aunt’s conscience.

I glanced again at my watch. I hated to leave Kate here to take a verbal beating, but I wanted to see Jeff.

Kate noticed I was fidgety and said, “Go. Then come back and let us know how Jeff is.”

I kissed Aunt Caroline on the cheek, and this seemed to ease her out of her snit. Her meddling had proven useful for once, and I should be grateful. Or maybe I simply loved her despite her flaws. After all, I had a few of those myself.

As I left, I heard Kate say, “Have they given you anything for your headache?” I knew my sister would keep herself occupied playing nurse, and that Aunt Caroline would milk Kate for every ounce of sympathy she could get.

Minutes later I arrived at the double doors to ICU. The unit lay beyond a door marked, DO NOT ENTER WITHOUT AUTHORIZATION. PRESS BUZZER FOR ASSISTANCE. I

followed instructions, and a female voice came over a small speaker above the door, asking if she could help me.

“Has Jeff Kline arrived from the recovery room yet?”

“The police officer?”

“Yes.”

“And your name?”

I told her, and she said, “He’s been asking for you. Please wait there.”

A few minutes passed before a man in scrubs came to the door. “Abby Rose?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Sergeant Kline’s nurse, Joey. Come with me.”

We passed a long counter with a bank of monitors for each room. I immediately spotted Jeff on one of the screens. He seemed small lying there with tubes coming out from him like tentacles. My stomach tightened at the sight.

The door to his room was filled with so much equipment, they must have been checking every cell in his body. Blood hung from an IV pole attached to the bed, and its dark red tubing snaked down and over Jeff’s body, led to his forearm and disappeared under adhesive tape.

Joey said, “His chest tube is on the left side. Please come around to the right.”

Even though the nurse spoke softly, Jeff’s eyes opened, and he tried to smile when he saw me.

“You look wonderfully ... fuzzy.” His fuzzy came with about ten Zs.

Hearing his voice made the knot in my gut begin to unwind. I wanted to touch him, but I feared I’d knock something loose. His mouth seemed safe and splendid territory, and I planted a kiss on his lips.

“Did you meet Abby, Joey? Abby is soooooo hot.” He moved his head back and forth—the only part of his body he probably could move—and said, “Hot, hot, hot.”

“Yeah, we met,” Joey said. “I’d say you are one lucky dude.”

“You got that right.” Jeff closed his eyes, smiling.

I kinda liked Jeff on drugs. They should have passed around morphine in that conference room so the rest of us could have been as mellow as he was right now.

“They say you’ll be fine,” I said.

He didn’t open his eyes. “Was there any doubt?”

“No,” I said quickly.

He looked at me. “You still have my weapon? I know I let you borrow it, but I will need that back.”

“I don’t think I need your gun anymore. I guess I can return it.”

“Come closer. I need to tell you something.” He was grinning like a friendly wolf.

I put my ear near his mouth.

He whispered, “You better still need my other gun.”

Yup. Jeff was gonna be just fine.

I left Jeff about five minutes later, after DeShay arrived to take my place, and started for the stairs back to Aunt Caroline’s room. I checked my watch. Eight o’clock. I hoped I could get an officer to take Kate and me home. We could pick up Subway sandwiches, then get some rest. Though I wanted to stay here in case anything unexpected happened to Jeff, I didn’t want to leave Kate by herself. Not tonight. I’d already given Joey all my phone numbers, and he said he would pass them on to the night nurse and notify me if Jeff’s condition changed. But Joey assured me that everything seemed to be going well. Jeff was a fit man with a strong will.