With a Vengeance (4 page)

Zoe realized she didn’t have an answer. “Good point.” She spotted the number they’d been looking for across from the nurse’s station. “Here we are.”

They passed a patient bathroom and sink to find a large man watching his TV in the first bed. He glanced at them with a total lack of interest before going back to his television show. Beyond him, a drawn curtain blocked their view of the second bed.

Approaching it, Zoe called softly, “Hello?”

“Yes?” a strained feminine voice responded.

Zoe eased around the curtain with Earl behind her.

Curtis had never been a big guy, but lying in his hospital bed with IVs, cardiac leads, and oxygen tubes attached to him, he appeared to have shrunken. His eyes were closed. Between the bed and the window, an older woman with long gray hair pulled into a sloppy ponytail sat in a vinyl and wood chair.

“Hey, Wanda.” Zoe went to Curtis’s mother and bent down to give her a quick hug.

“Zoe. Earl. It’s so good to see both of you.” She reached a wrinkled hand to Earl, which he took gingerly.

“How is he?” Earl nodded toward the patient.

Wanda Knox sighed. “As well as can be expected, I guess. They had to remove his spleen and do a lot of work to repair the damage to his intestines. They say he’s stable, but he lost quite a bit of blood.”

“Has he said anything to you about what happened?” Zoe asked.

Wanda dug in her jeans pocket. “No. He’s not awake all that much, and when he is, he’s not very coherent.” She came up with a tissue and waved it at the IV pump. “They’ve got him loaded with morphine.”

Loud voices drifted in from outside the room. From the sound of it, someone was having a heated debate with one of the nurses.

Wanda’s rheumy eyes widened as she dabbed them with her tissue. “Oh, good Lord. It’s
her
.”

Zoe was about to ask who “her” was when a petite, raven-haired hurricane blew into the room.

Lucy Livingston seemed torn between fury and anguish. Her makeup was flawless in spite of a flood of tears streaming down her face. “Oh my God,” she wailed upon seeing Curtis. She took a step toward him, stopped, and swung to point a finger at Wanda. “
You!
Those bitches at the nurses’ station won’t give me any information because you told them I’m not family.”

Wanda opened her mouth to speak, but Lucy let out another grief-stricken howl and flung herself on top of Curtis.

Wanda leapt to her feet, yelling. A nurse—perhaps one of the ones who’d refused to give Lucy any information—stormed in, slinging open the closed curtain, and shouting for security. The nurse grabbed Lucy, trying to pry her off poor Curtis. Earl jumped in to assist. Zoe latched on to one of the girl’s arms and heaved to no avail.

“Let go of me,” Lucy shrieked, clinging to her fiancé.

Curtis, however, never stirred.

“For God’s sake, Lucy,” Zoe said. “He’s had major surgery.” Not to mention having been shot. “You’re going to rip open his stitches.”

Lucy howled like a wounded animal.

From the corner of her eye, Zoe caught a glimpse of an older man standing inside the doorway, well away from the ruckus. Rotund and wearing a gray beard, a camo t-shirt, and a ball cap decorated with fishing lures, he leaned against the wall, chewing on a toothpick, watching the mêlée in silence.

Zoe, Earl, and the nurse dragged a kicking and crying Lucy from the bed. “Let me go,” she insisted, wriggling to escape their grasp.

Curtis’s mother stepped around the bed. “It’s okay. Let her go.”

Wanda’s soft voice seemed to startle Lucy into submission. She stopped flailing.

Zoe exchanged cautious glances with the other two and released the girl. Lucy brushed off her shirt and jeans and thrust her shoulders back in an apparent attempt to regain some shred of dignity.

The nurse raised a questioning eyebrow at Wanda, who gave her a faint smile and a nod. “I’m sure she’ll behave herself now.”

Lucy glared at Curtis’s mother, but didn’t argue.

The nurse left the room slowly, as if waiting for round two to begin.

The girl shifted her gaze to Curtis and choked out a sob, pressing both hands to her mouth. She made a move toward the bed, but Zoe and Earl blocked her path. “I’m not gonna hurt him. He’s my fiancé, for cryin’ out loud.”

Zoe took her by both shoulders. “I know it’s not your intention to hurt him, but you need to get a grip.”

Lucy shot her a fiery glare. “Get your hands off me. I’m fine.”

“Hector,” Wanda said to the man in camo, “please control your daughter.”

Zoe released the girl as Hector Livingston pushed away from the wall and ambled toward them. He took the toothpick from between his teeth. “She’ll mind her manners from now on. Won’t you, Lucille.” It wasn’t a question so much as a command.

Her glare dissolved into a childish pout. “Yes, Daddy.” She sniffled and some of the defiance returned. “I just needed to see Curtis.” She turned again to Wanda. “We’re getting married whether you approve or not. You can’t keep me away from him.”

Wanda’s strained silence, combined with the look she gave the girl, told Zoe there was more to this relationship than the standard pre-wedding in-law friction.

Wanda squared her shoulders and fixed Hector with a stern gaze. “I’m going to talk to the nurses to find out if any test results have come back. I trust you’ll keep your daughter in line.”

A wordless exchange passed between the two parents’ eyes. Wanda turned to Zoe and Earl. “Thanks so much for stopping by. When he wakes up, I’ll tell Curtis you were here.”

As the older woman walked out of the room, Zoe noticed her hands clenched in tight fists.

Four

Pete eyed the shabby singlewide house trailer and noticed the curtains in one of the windows shift. Good thing he hadn’t been going for the element of surprise. Of course, if he had, he wouldn’t have cruised into the middle of the trailer park in broad daylight in his township vehicle.

It hadn’t taken long to learn the identity of the bully Zoe told him about. Nor had it surprised Pete. If Vance Township issued frequent flyer miles for visits from law enforcement, Eli “Snake” Sullivan would be a top recipient, going back to his days of riding a dirt bike on township roads when neither the bike nor the kid had a license. He’d graduated to graffiti, minor vandalism, underage drinking, and simple assault. Now that he was legally an adult, his crimes also matured. The only reason he wasn’t a resident in the county jail was because his uncle was an attorney who managed to get cases dismissed, charges reduced, and fines lowered.

Pete climbed the rickety steps to a small stoop and rapped on the aluminum storm door. Through the thin walls, he heard heavy footsteps retreating toward the rear of the trailer. The faded wood panel door opened, revealing an equally faded woman who looked considerably older than her forty-some years.

“Can I help you, Chief?”

“Mrs. Sullivan. I need to speak with Eli.”

The woman’s eyes shifted in the direction the footsteps had gone, but she blinked and brought her gaze back to Pete. “He’s not here.”

Pete fixed her with a hard but sympathetic stare. “Ma’am, we both know that’s not true. If Eli wants to pull off the sneaky routine, he needs to
tiptoe
into the back room.”

Mrs. Sullivan sagged. She stepped clear of the door and yelled toward the rear of the house, “Eli, get your ass out here.”

Pete entered a neat but tattered living room. The furnishings were probably original to the mobile home, which he guessed to be at least thirty years old. Eli remained in hiding. Mrs. Sullivan held up one finger at Pete and excused herself. She padded down the darkened hallway, shouting curses at her good-for-nothing son the entire time.

Finally, Pete heard a male voice whine, “Aw, Ma. You weren’t supposed to let him know I’m here.” Pete bit back a smile as he imagined Mother Sullivan dragging her offspring out from under his bed by his ear. Another muffled exchange between parent and child was followed by the same heavy footsteps, this time growing closer.

A chagrined twenty-something biker wannabe thudded into the living room. A tattooed serpent decorated one arm, which was more flab than muscle. Both ears bore piercings, as did an eyebrow.

“Hello, Eli,” Pete said.

“My name’s Snake,” the kid said, around what Pete guessed to be a lip full of snuff.

“All right. Snake. I have a few questions I’d like to ask you.”

Eli jutted his jaw. “Well, I don’t wanna answer ’em.”

Pete made a production of an exasperated sigh. “Now, Eli. Excuse me.
Snake
. We can do this here, or I can take you down to the station and ask you the same exact questions.”

“You can’t take me nowhere without arresting me. And you got nothin’ on me.”

The kid must have been paying attention to his uncle. “Really? I wonder what I might find if I took a look around your room. How much marijuana have you got stashed today? Or maybe you’ve moved up to something more potent.”

Pay dirt. Eli’s eyes widened in a momentary flash of panic. But he tamped it down with false bravado. “You can’t search my room without a warrant. You got a warrant?”

“I don’t need a warrant. All I need is your mother’s permission. I think she’d give it to me. Don’t you?”

The panic returned. “It’s
my
room.”

“In
her
house.”

For a moment, Pete thought Eli was about to burst into angry tears. Instead, the young thug appeared to cave in on himself. “What d’ya wanna know?”

Pete pulled out his notebook and pen. “Where were you last night?”

Eli’s eyes widened and shifted. Damn, he was a lousy liar and he hadn’t even answered yet. “Last night? I was at Rodeo’s Bar.”

“What time did you get there?”

His eyes flitted left, then down and back again, searching for an answer that would cover his ass. “Um, I don’t know. Six? Seven?”

“Which was it, Eli? Six or seven?”

“Six.” He nodded approval at his decision. “Definitely six.”

“I suppose everyone in the place can vouch for you.”

“Oh, yeah. They all know me there.”

“Names.”

Eli tugged at one pierced earlobe. “Huh?”

Pete gritted his teeth. “Give me some names of the people who were there and can verify your story.”

“Oh. Um.” Eli thought way too hard for a moment, then rattled off the names of a half dozen not-so-upstanding citizens who frequented the dive.

Pete jotted them down. “You have a quad, don’t you?”

“Yeah. No.”

“Enough with the multiple choice answers, Eli. Yes or no?”

“I did. But I sold it.”

“When?”

“Um, about a week—no. About a month ago.”

“Who’d you sell it to?”

“Some old dude I met at the bar. He was talking about wanting one for dragging deer outta the woods this hunting season, and I needed money.”

Pete considered asking what he needed the money for, but figured he’d only send Eli scrambling for another lie. “Does this ‘old dude’ have a name?”

Eli rolled his eyes. “Duh. We all got names.”

Pete resisted the urge to choke the idiot. “What was it?”

“I don’t know. He paid me cash. Don’t need no name for cash.”

“You do if you want to transfer ownership.”

Eli gave him a blank stare. Pete decided to let it drop. Other than the questionable timing of the transaction, he suspected the story about selling the quad to a deer hunter was the first honest statement Eli had made to him. “You hunt, don’t you?”

“Oh, sure. Doesn’t everyone?”

“What kind of rifle do you use?”

The color drained from his face. “Why are you asking me all this?”

Pete shrugged. “Making conversation.”

“Like hell. Cops don’t just make conversation. Not with me.”

“Do you know Barry Dickson?”

The question nudged Eli out of the land of blatant stupidity. “Oh, no.” He shook his head. “I know where you’re going with all this. I heard the news this morning.”

“You watch the news?” Pete couldn’t picture Eli “Snake” Sullivan watching anything except reality shows and cartoons on TV.

“Well, no. But Ma does, and she told me about that dude getting whacked up in the cuts.”

“So I guess that’s a yes.”

“Huh?”

“You know Barry Dickson.”

“Yeah. I—no. Wait.” Eli spun and yelled toward the back of the trailer, “
Ma
. Call Uncle Andy. I think I need a lawyer.”

Zoe caught up with Wanda at the nurse’s station. “What on earth was that all about?”

Wanda gripped the countertop as if the thing might levitate and fly away. “I wish Curtis had never met that girl.” Her voice was so low, Zoe wondered if she was speaking to herself rather than to Zoe.

Earl appeared at the doorway to Curtis’s room, but stopped and glanced back inside. He must have decided to stay where he could keep an eye on the Livingstons and Curtis as well as Wanda and Zoe. Earl crossed his arms and struck a wide-legged sentry’s pose.

Zoe touched Wanda’s elbow. “Is Lucy always that…?”

Wanda snorted. “Nuts?”

“I was trying for a more politically correct term, but yeah. Nuts.”

Wanda sighed. “Depends on who you ask. I’ve thought she was emotionally unstable from the first time I met her. But you couldn’t tell Curtis anything. He was smitten. Love is blind, you know?”

“So I’ve heard.”

The same nurse who had helped wrestle Lucy off Curtis approached Wanda. “Is everything okay in there?”

Wanda gave her head a sad shake. “I wish I knew.” She thumped the counter lightly as if trying to snap herself out of her funk. “Have you gotten any new test results back?”

The nurse smiled kindly. “Not yet. I’ll let you know the moment I hear anything.”

Wanda thanked her and turned her back to the nurses’ station. “I thought it was all over,” she said to Zoe, “and now this happens.”

Puzzled, she asked, “What do you mean?”

“Two nights ago, Curtis finally had enough of Lucy’s constant drama and broke up with her. I don’t think she’s aware that I know about it though. Now with him hurt, she has another chance to get her hooks into him.”

“Curtis broke off the engagement?” Zoe shot a look at Earl, who shrugged. He didn’t know about it either.

“Yes. I was so relieved he’d finally seen through her act. Being pretty on the outside doesn’t make a person good on the inside.”

Zoe gazed past Earl into the room across the hall. With the curtain drawn back, she had a clear view of Lucy at the foot of Curtis’s bed. Hector stood beside his daughter, a fatherly arm around her shoulders as she pressed a hand to her mouth. Nothing out of place for someone worrying over a critically wounded loved one. Had Zoe not witnessed the hysteria a few minutes earlier—and now with the news about the recent breakup—she wouldn’t have given the scene a second thought.

Earl caught Zoe’s eye. “We should go,” he mouthed.

She held up one finger. There was a question she’d intended to ask since they’d arrived. Thanks to the outburst, she’d almost forgotten. “Wanda, do you happen to know who Lucy had been dating when she met Curtis?”

“What? No. I mean, I didn’t realize she was seeing anyone else. Curtis never mentioned it.” Wanda grunted. “If you find out who the guy is, let me know. Maybe I could talk him into patching things up with her.”

Zoe laughed in spite of herself. “I’ll do that. Call me when Curtis wakes up.” She gave the woman a hug.

“Of course.” Looking dour, Wanda gazed toward her son’s bedside. “I need to get back in there. Maybe I can convince Hector to take his daughter home.” She didn’t sound hopeful.

Earl gave Wanda a quick embrace before falling into step with Zoe. “That was…bizarre,” he said once they were far enough down the hall that Wanda wouldn’t overhear.

“Did you know anything about it?” Zoe asked.

“About Curtis dumping Lucy? Or about Lucy being certifiable?”

“Either. Both.”

Earl considered the question. “Curtis mentioned she was clingy.”

“Clingy? How?”

They reached the elevators, and Earl punched the down button. “She had a jealous streak. Got kinda bent out of shape when he talked to other girls. Wanted to know where he was, who he was with all the time.”

“Sounds more controlling than clingy.”

Earl shrugged. “That was a month or so ago. At the time, Curtis was flattered. You know. Women were never knocking down his door. To have one who looked like Lucy treating him like he was a rock star? Couldn’t blame the guy for eating it up.”

The doors swished open and they joined a pair of young doctors on the elevator. Zoe pondered the situation in silence, even after they reached the main floor of the South Tower and headed back down the long hallway to the James Street parking garage. The wedding was only weeks away. She’d sent her RSVP days ago. Everyone at the ambulance garage had been chattering about the big event.

No one, as far as she could tell, had any inkling of trouble between the bride and groom.

Earl broke the silence as they reached the machine to pay for parking. “I wonder…”

“Huh?”

He dug the ticket and a five-dollar bill from his wallet. “You know what they say.”

“About what?”

“A woman scorned.” Earl hesitated before inserting the ticket into the machine. “From what I saw back there, I would not want Lucy Livingston’s fury aimed at me.”