Song of the Blackbird (Albatross Prison #1) (28 page)

“Thank God.” She couldn’t believe it.
Sam was going to be okay.
Emma clapped a hand to her mouth and stifled back a sob.

“He lost a lot of blood but we managed to keep up with the transfusions.”

“Oh thank you, John.” She threw her arms around him, the tears coursing down her cheeks. “I know how you feel about him, so an extra thank-you.”

“I’m sorry about that.” John’s blue eyes were filled with remorse. “I was such a jackass, wasn’t I?”

“Well…” She bit her lip. “Yes, but it was a long time ago. I forgive you. You saved him today.” And Emma realized she spoke the truth. It was all water under the bridge, considering how she hadn’t thought about John for ages now.

“Just doing my job,” he said, squeezing her shoulder. “I’m sorry I acted the way I did, Em. You know, you look a little like your brother.”

“What?” Emma smiled through her tears. “How?”

“The way your eyes tilt at the corners.” John took off his cap and brushed a hand through his hair. “Too bad I had to meet him like this. You want to go up and see him?”

Emma relayed to him what had happened at the prison and how she was forbidden to see Sam.

“But I just spoke to your boss before I came down. He seemed so concerned. He asked a bunch of questions. I thought he knew you guys were siblings.”

“What? My boss? Here?”
Surely John was mistaken.

“Yes, the guy who was with you last time. Big, scary-looking.”

“You didn’t tell him Sam’s my brother, did you?”
Please tell me you didn’t.
Emma dried away her tears.

“Relax. I didn’t. He looked really worried, though.”

“Yes, because it was all his fault.”
Every last bit of it.

“What do you mean?”

“He could have prevented the assault by moving Sam to somewhere safer.” Emma was a little glad Maxim was suffering. She was suffering a hundred times as much.

They couldn’t talk more as John had post-op patients to round on. Before he left, he promised to keep her updated on Sam’s condition. Emma took in a deep breath and exhaled. At least her brother was okay. She had to concentrate on that.
Nothing else mattered
. She hailed a taxi and headed home, glad the awful day was drawing to a close.

***

From a corner of the parking lot, Maxim watched Emma depart and felt like wild horses were pulling him apart limb by limb. How he longed to hold her close. But she had hugged that ex of hers instead. How it killed him to see her in another man’s arms. She belonged to him. And only him.
Why did he still love her?
It made everything so much harder.

It had been petrifying watching her faint that morning. He’d almost lost it when her head had lolled to the side and she’d lost consciousness. And she’d felt so fragile in his arms, like a tiny bird with a clipped wing.
Damn.
She hated him, he could tell. Had he been wrong in believing his mentor over her? But the video had been so clear. What else could it mean?

Yet Morris had been beaten up exactly like she’d feared. What had she said? That Morris had snitched and was going to pay for it unless Maxim moved him. That Peterson sold drugs to the inmates.
Impossible.
It couldn’t be true. Yet Maxim couldn’t be too careful. He had driven in last night and seen for himself the aftermath of the assault. He’d asked questions. The officers said they’d found Morris in the bathroom, blood seeping from a head laceration with several knife wounds to the chest and abdomen.

The man was beaten up pretty badly. He was lucky to be alive.
Was he actually Emma’s lover?
Maxim’s big body shuddered in disgust. How could she have betrayed him like that? It was clear she cared for the guy.
Look at the way she’d collapsed at the news of his assault.
She’d been devastated. Maxim’s heart twisted inside. It hurt. It hurt like hell but he still had a job to do.

Nobody deserved to be assaulted like that. He was going to investigate and catch the men who did it. He hadn’t learned much yesterday. Peterson apparently hadn’t been on duty. There were no witnesses, at least none who would come forward. They’d attacked in the bathroom exactly at the camera’s blind spot, so there weren’t any videos.

Maxim drove back to the prison, determined to find out more. He needed to revisit dorm 308, the scene of the crime. Birmingham, the chief deputy warden, accompanied him to the dorm and briefed him on the latest updates.

“Got any new leads today?” Maxim asked.

“Cortez, one of the Hispanic inmates, told me in confidence that it was the blacks who did it,” Birmingham said, sweeping a hand over his wild beard. The man looked like a mad scientist but Maxim knew his mind was as sharp as a tack.

“At least that’s something. How many of them?”

“Five to eight. Cortez said they’re part of the PALI gang.”

Maxim froze, his heart thudding. Emma had said the PALIs were involved.
Was she telling the truth this whole time?
“The PALIs? Are you sure?”

“Don’t know why Cortez would lie about it.”

“But the gang has been pretty quiet for a while now,” Maxim said, trying hard not to think about the possible implications
. If Emma had been right.
He clenched his hand and dared not go down that path.

“Well, you know how they are. They act up when they want to send a message.” Birmingham shrugged. “Who knows what it could be about? Maybe Morris owed them some money and didn’t return it. Or maybe he insulted one of them. You never know what sets them off.”

“So who are we talking about? Do you have any names?” Maxim asked.

“Don’t know yet. Cortez is too scared to tell us. I already moved him to SNY but he’s not saying anything else.”

They reached 308 and Maxim headed straight to bed 35 up, Morris’s bunk. It lay stripped and bare without any personal belongings. The other inmates were in the chow hall eating, so they had the dorm to themselves.

“The officers already cleaned out his bed. They figure he won’t be back for a while,” Birmingham said. “I think his locker is still untouched. Do you want to see it?”

“Sure.”

“Here’s the key.” Birmingham handed him the standard set of keys carried by the dorm officers. “Mind if I go check out 307? We’re short-staffed in there today.”

“Go ahead.” Maxim crouched down and inserted the universal key that opened all the lockers. The latch stuck for a little bit but after a couple of jiggles, the locker door sprang open.

Maxim bent his head and peered inside. A bag of chips, four ramen noodle packages, and a stack of newspapers. Farther in the back lay a couple of books.
About birds, of all things. Blackbirds.
A prickling sensation crawled over Maxim’s spine. Maxim rubbed the back of his neck. He reached inside and pulled out a vaguely familiar yellow envelope.
No. It couldn’t be. It can’t be. There was no chance in hell…
Maxim opened the envelope and shook out its contents.
Oh God.
Holmes, the comet, stared back at him.

Chapter 31

“I hope he’s going to recover okay.” Emma pressed the phone against her ear and threw herself on the bed.

“I’m so sorry, Em. Wish I could be there.” Riley sounded so distant, all the way in Vietnam. “What does Maxim say about all of this?”

“Don’t even bring him up.” Emma shook her head in disgust. “He didn’t believe me. Sam almost died because of him.”

“How could he even think you’d have sex with an inmate? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“He doesn’t trust me at all.” Emma bit her lip. “I know the video doesn’t look good but you’d think he’d at least have some faith in me.”

“Maybe you should tell him Sam’s your brother.”

“No way. He’d separate us.” The tears were starting again. Emma grabbed a pillow and hugged it tight. “And I can’t see patients anymore. Maxim said he’s starting an investigation.”

“Aw, Em. That’s horrible. You want me there? I can take the first flight out.”

“No. It’s okay.” Emma dried her tears on the pillow. “Thanks for the offer. I’m going to have to deal with it somehow.”

“Are you sure? I can book a flight. They have enough doctors here.”

“Yes. I’m sure. Thanks, Ri. You’re a good friend.”

“Let me know if it becomes too rough. Get some rest. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Emma hung up the phone and curled on her side, forcing herself to inhale and exhale.
Deep breaths.
That’s all she should focus on. The breathing technique gradually worked. Charles was definitely onto something. She felt marginally better and closed her eyes, sending up a silent prayer for Sam.

As she was about to drift off to sleep, the phone rang. She seized it immediately.

“Emma?”

“John?” Emma sprang up, her heart in her throat. “What’s wrong? Is it Sam?”

“Yes. His blood pressure just dropped,” John said, his voice rushed. “You should come, Emma. He’s not doing very well. He’s in room 605 East right now but we may move him to ICU soon.”

“Oh, my God.” Emma clutched her pillow tighter. “What happened? He was okay an hour ago.”

“I know. But he’s post op. You know how things can change.” John let out a long, frustrated sigh. “Just come, okay? I have to bring another patient to the OR right now but I’ll find you when I’m done.”

Emma slammed the phone down and shot out of bed.
No. This could not be happening.
She’d thought the worst was over. But there had been those broken ribs.
Had they punctured the liver? Was there more bleeding?
Maybe his bowels had been injured too. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound good with the blood pressure dropping.

Emma grabbed her purse, rushed out of the house, and blasted on the car engine. Damn it.
Turn on, why don’t you?
After the third attempt, the engine finally spluttered to life. She pushed hard on the accelerator. The tires screeched as she raced onto the street.
Don’t die, Sam. You can’t die on me.
She turned left and then right to avoid the freeway traffic, choosing instead to take the side roads.

Her cell suddenly rang again.
Dear God, that better not be John. Was Sam already worse?
Hand trembling, she picked up the phone. “Yes?”

“Emma? It’s Charles. Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“My phone’s on.” Emma glanced at the screen. Three missed calls. The side streets she took mustn’t have had any signals. “Sorry, Charles. It’s been kind of crazy.”

“No worries. Where are you? I heard what happened to your brother. Are you okay?”

“No. Sam’s crashing at Riverside Community. I’m heading there now.”

“Crashing? What happened?” Charles’s voice rose a notch.

“He got out of surgery and deteriorated. I don’t know much else.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you there. Drive safely.”

“You don’t have to come.”

“Of course I do. He’s my patient. What room is he in?”

“605 East.”

“All right. See you soon.”

Emma hung up the phone, feeling marginally better. Charles would be a great comfort, no matter what happened. Especially with Riley in Vietnam. And especially with the way things were with Maxim.
Maxim.
She couldn’t bear to think about him.

At last the hospital’s familiar structure greeted her. Emma accelerated into the parking lot and bolted out, snatching her purse in the nick of time. The security guard at the main lobby called out to her but she flashed her medical ID and dashed into the elevator, ignoring his summons.
Up. Up. Up.
Finally, floor six. Emma zipped out and hurried down the east hallway.

“Code Blue Team. Code Blue Team. Six East,” an announcement blared overhead.

Was that Sam’s room?
Emma’s heart took a nosedive. Her chest constricted.
Sam! Wait for me
.
Please don’t die. Sam. Don’t die!
She raced down the hall and veered left: 615. 614. 613. 612. 611.

“Code Blue Team. Code Blue Team. Six East. Room 622.”

Thank God—622, not 605. It wasn’t Sam.
Tears pricked behind Emma’s eyes.
Why was the corridor so deserted?
Everyone must have been in the code. She sprinted the last five yards. Room 605 at last.
Where were Sam’s guards?
Two officers were usually assigned to watch over each hospitalized inmate, even if the prisoner was dying.
Oh God. Dying.
She threw open the door, her breath ragged.

The room was so dim it took a moment to get her bearings. Sam lay in the center bed. At least she hoped it was Sam. All she could see was a head swaddled in white bandages and a casted leg hanging off a swinging contraption. She cautiously approached the bed, careful not to disturb him. An IV hung from his left arm and a chest tube protruded from the right side of his chest, emitting a swishing sound with each breath. His eyes were closed, his face pale. Yes, it was her brother. She couldn’t mistake that beloved face. Her poor, darling brother, once so vibrant and alive and now reduced to this. And it was all Maxim’s fault.
How could Maxim have let this happen?

Emma clutched at the white sheets covering Sam’s body. Tears clogged at her throat. She tugged at her pendant and checked the monitor. Blood pressure ninety over forty. Heart rate one thirty. Pulse ox ninety-two percent. It was too low, the blood pressure.
Was he bleeding internally? Did he need to go back to the OR?

A soft knock sounded on the door. Emma swung around, expecting to see the nurse. She had myriad questions for the surgical team.
Shouldn’t they transfer Sam to the ICU?
His vitals were tanking.

“Hi,” she said as the door opened.

“Hi, yourself,” a familiar voice said back.

No! It couldn’t be.
Emma gasped and put both her hands out. Sergeant Peterson stood in front of her, his face set in ugly lines.

“What are you doing here?” Emma managed to breathe out against the rising panic clawing at her insides.

“I should be asking you the same question.” The officer closed the door softly behind him and approached the bed, still in full Custody gear. His right hand was fumbling with something in his pocket. “Didn’t Chambers order you to stay away from him? You’re violating the investigation, Doc.”

How could she ever have thought Peterson’s eyes were kind?
They looked as evil as sin right now as he glowered at her.

“Stay back.” Emma grabbed the cord lying next to Sam and pushed hard on the call button.
Why didn’t it ring? Where were the nurses? The guards?
Her eyes swung frantically to the door.

“Don’t bother. I dismantled the call mechanism.” The sergeant’s hand stayed in his pocket. “Not that anyone’s around. There’s a medical emergency down the hall, and I already dismissed the guards.”

“Get out!” Emma put a protective hand toward Sam. Her brother was still unconscious, his breathing slow and irregular.

Peterson took a menacing step closer.

“Stay away from him.” Emma inched toward the head of the bed.

“Begging for your lover?” Peterson jeered. “It’s too late. He won’t make it out of here. I’m going to make sure of that.”

“You’ll never get away with it.” Emma’s eyes darted to the wall behind the bed.
Where the heck was that code blue button?
She had to find it. It was the fastest way to get help.

“Shut up. You’ve caused enough trouble, Doc,” the sergeant ground out. “I’d leave fast if I were you.”

“Never! Get out! Someone will be here any minute now.”
There it was, the code blue knob.
Red. Round. Only three feet from her left hand.

“You get out.” The sergeant suddenly whipped out a gun, pointing it straight at her.

Dear God. Could the situation get any worse?
Peterson was only about two feet away from Sam. And he looked like a raving lunatic right now. She stepped closer to the button, swallowing down her fear. “Why are you doing this, Sergeant?” she croaked out, hoping to distract him. “Maxim trusted you.”

“I have no choice,” Peterson bit out. “Morris snitched on me. And I’m not going to let him do it again.”

“They’ll catch you. You’ll never get away with it.”

“Not if it’s ruled a natural death. His lungs are already weak.” Peterson yanked Sam’s pillow out from underneath his head. “It’ll be quick. Thirty seconds without air, I figure. Nobody’s going to come in time.”

“I’ll report you. You’ll be arrested.”

“No one’s going to believe you. You’re under investigation, remember?”

Peterson slammed the pillow over Sam’s face, pushing down hard with his left hand. Emma pressed the code button with all her might. A loud buzzing sound rang out.

“Code Blue Team. Code Blue Team. Six East. Room 605.” The overhead speaker blared.

“You’ll pay for that,” Peterson hissed, bearing down on the pillow. “Stay away or I’ll shoot!” He aimed at Emma with his right hand.

“No!” Emma screamed as the door suddenly flew open.

Sam was going to suffocate any minute now. She lunged at the sergeant. He pulled the trigger, igniting a deafening blast.