All I Want Is Forever (20 page)

“No.” Talia cleared her throat. She found a tissue in her purse and wiped her eyes. She offered him one and he took it. “I care what happens to Monette, but we'll never be a family like other people.”

“Thanksgiving is comin' up. I was hopin' she'd get out and we could have dinner at my house.” Karl sniffed. He dabbed at his eyes.

“Her parole is a long shot no matter what Jim Rand says. Besides, Monette isn't the type to sit around a table and be maternal.” Talia wore a melancholy expression as she sat down heavily.

“People change,” Karl insisted.

“People have to want to change,” Talia replied. “Sure, Monette is talking the talk now. But look how many chances she had before.”

“Bet you said the same thing about me.” Karl smiled at her with affection. “Did you think I'd ever be anything but a thug?”

Talia blushed. “Karl, I—”

“Uh-huh. You don't have to say it.” He patted her shoulder. “Can't say I could have blamed ya either. At one time I didn't believe it myself.”

At the moment a man wearing green scrubs walked in followed by a woman. “I'm Dr. Morrison. You're Ms. Victor's family?”

“I'm her son,” Karl said before Talia could answer.

“Okay.” He glanced over his shoulder at the woman.

“The social worker at LCIW confirmed it. I'm Shelly Peak with social services here at the hospital,” she said to Talia and Karl.

“Hello. How is Monette?” Talia said.

“The blade nicked a kidney. Then they stabbed her again hard enough to chip a rib and puncture a lung.” Dr. Morrison shook his head.

“Will she be alright?” Talia asked.

“The next twelve to twenty-four hours are critical. If she doesn't start bleeding internally or if her lung doesn't collapse, she'll do pretty well. But she'll have a long recovery.”

“Lord, please stand by her,” Karl murmured with his head down.

Talia put an arm around his shoulders. “I hear Earl K. Long has the best treatment around, even for an understaffed, underfunded charity hospital.”

“We work hard and have some fine doctors, ma'am.” Dr. Morrison nodded. “Nice meeting y'all. If you have any questions, here's the number of our unit.
If I'm not in, another resident or chief resident can answer your questions.” He glanced at Shelly Peak, then left.

“Your mother will be in intensive care. Visiting hours are very restricted. Only one family member can be present at a time for fifteen minutes,” the social worker said.

Talia looked at him. “You two have gotten close. Monette will feel better if she sees you.”

“Ms. Victor is still in recovery. She can't have visitors until at least eight o'clock tonight.”

Talia looked at her wristwatch. “Quarter to six. I'll wait.”

“Me too. I'll go call LaTrice to tell her what's goin' on.”

“Why don't you both get something to eat and try to unwind?” Ms. Peak looked Talia, then Karl.

“I'm not hungry.” Talia was sure anything she ate would sour in her stomach. “I need to let Mama Rose know how Monette is doing, then I can make some phone calls.” She looked at Karl.

“Come on. At least have some soup. Somethin' light.” Karl put a hand under her elbow. “You can't help Monette by hangin' 'round here makin' yourself sick.”

Derrick walked in at that moment. Before she realized it, Talia rushed into his arms. He held her close and whispered soothing words in her ear. Ms. Peak made a discreet exit. Karl patted Derrick's shoulder.

“Thanks for comin', man.” He gave him a fraternal nod of approval before he left them alone.

Talia shuddered in his arms. “Monette could die.”

“The doctor didn't say that, did he?”

“No, but she could get worse in the next day.”

“Or she could get better,” Derrick said soothingly.

Talia squeezed her eyes shut. “I've been so mean to her. No matter what she's done, she is my mother.”

“You won't help Monette with this guilt trip. She needs you to be strong.”

“You're right. There will be plenty of time for self-pity later.”

“I'm getting funny vibes, and it seems to lead right to Winn Barron.” Derrick wore an intense expression. “I talked to his former investigator Jerome Hines. He's got something to hide. I don't think the attack on Monette was just another prison fight.”

Talia wiped her eyes and sat down. A wave of exhaustion washed over her suddenly. “I hate this drama.”

“I'm going to look into the fight at the prison.” Derrick took out a Palm Pilot from the back pocket of his gray chinos.

“As soon as she's able to talk, I'm going to tell Monette to back off. Whatever game she's playing has to end.”

“As much as I hate to say it, I think someone is running scared. This attack may mean we're closing in on the truth. I should stay on Hines.” Derrick made notes. “I'd like to talk to her when she's up to it, too.”

“Why?” Talia felt a growing ball of rage take root in her chest.

“She'll know the real deal behind this ‘fight.' I might smoke something out.” Derrick's dark eyes gleamed, as if he couldn't wait to start the chase.

“Let me see if I've got this straight.” Talia stood, legs apart and both hands on her hips. “My mother is on death's door, and you see it as a good sign that you're making progress?”

“I'll go back over my contacts and the leads Rand gave me,” he murmured to himself.

Talia could barely contain herself. “You'll keep digging even now that Monette is in intensive care.”

“Monette wanted my help.” Derrick glanced up at her. He grimaced. “Are you blaming me for what happened?”

“Well, let's examine the facts. You just said Monette's attack means you've struck a nerve somewhere.” Monette stood toe-to-toe with him. “You figure it out!”

Derrick stared at her with a horrified expression. “Monette was going to make a splash no matter what I did. If I thought for one minute anything I was doing would put her in danger—I was trying to protect her!”

“Oh really? Guess you miscalculated somewhere along the way, sport!” Talia was shouting at him.

“Honey, you're upset. Anyone would be.” Derrick tried to embrace her again.

She slapped his arms away. “Don't patronize me.”

“Is there a problem?” Shelly Peak stood in the door of the waiting area.

Talia and Derrick stared at each other as though she hadn't spoken. All three stood frozen until Derrick put his Palm Pilot away.

Derrick turned to the social worker. “We'll be fine.”

“If you need anything, to talk or ask questions, have the ER nurse page me. I'll be in my office.” With one last glance, the short, blond woman left.

“I can't believe you!” Talia said, her voice lower so as not to attract more attention.

“I was thinking the same thing. I'm trying to help your mama,” Derrick said in a calm voice as though trying to reason with a child.

“She's got a legal team working on her parole. Jim Rand is the best around.”

“They don't have funds for a good private investigator,” Derrick countered.

“Isn't that a conflict with you working for the DA? So you ignore my wishes, put Monette's neck in a noose, and throw away your career. You don't go halfway, do you?”

Derrick pointed a forefinger at her nose. “From the moment you hit town you've been complaining about not making waves. Monette deserves justice even if it upsets your neat little bourgeois world.”

Talia's red-hot anger crystallized. “I'd like to give you some credit and chalk this up to blundering knight syndrome.”

“What are you talking about?” Derrick clenched his square jaws.

“I'd prefer to think you really were trying to help. But somehow I have a nasty suspicion you like the excitement.” Talia tucked her Coach purse beneath one arm.

“You went through hard times, and you've still got issues. But don't push it.” Derrick's handsome eyes darkened like storm clouds. Lightning seemed to flash deep in them.

“Good-bye, Derrick.” Talia turned her back on him.

He closed his huge hand around her right arm and forced her to face him. “I won't crawl back to beg for attention. Do you understand what I'm saying?”

“What part of good-bye didn't you get?” Talia glanced down at his hand on her arm.

“I'm through.” Derrick let go of her and walked out.

Talia watched him leave. She forced herself not to follow him out despite her anger. After a few seconds she sat down heavily and covered her face with both hands.

“Excuse me. I'm looking for Ms. Victor's son.” Shelly Peak said softly.

Talia sat straight and looked up at the social worker. “Karl will be back soon.”

“Dr. Morrison says he can spend a few minutes
with her. Are you a relative?” She wore a concerned expression.

“Yes.” Talia rose quickly.

She followed the social worker down through a maze of hallways and into a room. Monette lay sedated on a gurney, her eyes closed. Her caramel complexion looked washed-out and pale. Talia took her hand and held on tightly, willing her to survive.

“Studies show that they respond to a familiar voice even when they're in a deep sleep,” the social worker said over Talia's shoulder. She nodded encouragement, then quietly left them alone.

“I'm not sure what to say.” Talia gazed at Monette's thin outline beneath the white sheet. “I'm sorry, Mama,” she whispered, and started to cry.

Derrick drove along the highway with a grim expression. He didn't have to look at his reflection to know it. His facial muscles felt tired from the permanent scowl he'd worn for the last sixteen waking hours. His final scene with Talia had kept him up until two o'clock in the morning. Nothing he did had helped him relax or feel good. Derrick chided himself for being a fool. More than miles and the past stood between them. She wanted him to become a clone in a suit, like that Jarrod character. Well, she could forget it. Not to mention her irrational accusation that he'd put Monette in danger. An unpleasant twinge grabbed his stomach. He pushed away the sickening thought.

He turned up the radio hoping the driving zydeco beat would blast away troubling thoughts. Flashing blue lights appeared in his rearview mirror. He looked down at the speedometer and saw he was going eighty-five miles an hour. He eased his foot off the gas pedal too late.

“Damn it!” he muttered angrily as he pulled onto the narrow gravel shoulder of Highway 1.

“Step out of your vehicle please.” The state trooper's voice sounded hollow through the loudspeaker mounted on his car.

He retrieved his registration card and got out. A tall man the color of milk chocolate with gray hair walked toward him. The trooper's trained gaze swept the scene. Derrick waited calmly.

“Do you know why I stopped you, sir?”

“I was going too fast.” Derrick could have kicked himself.

“Way too fast. Let me see your license and registration, please.” The trooper stood with his legs apart.

“I'm with the Pointe Coupee District Attorney's Office.” Derrick took out his identification card.

The trooper took it, glanced at Derrick, then walked back to his car. He called in the information, all the time keeping an eye on Derrick. Ten minutes later he walked back.

“I thought you looked familiar. I'm Brandon Myles. I testified in that drug bust we took down on Highway 190, remember?”

Derrick squinted at him. “Yeah, too bad they got off so easy.”

“Defense lawyers make me sick,” Trooper Myles retorted. “What's the rush? You don't want to end up spread all over the road.”

“I got distracted. I'm on my way to interview someone.” Derrick slipped his wallet back into his pants pocket. “How long have you been with the state police?”

“Twenty-four years and two months. I'll retire in ten months.” Trooper Myles grinned. “Not that I'm counting.”

“Right.” Derrick smiled back at him. “You worked these parishes, including Pointe Coupee the whole time?”

“Just about.” Trooper Myles relaxed his vigilant pose a bit. “I spent maybe four or five years in Troop A first.”

“You know Jerome Hines? He was an investigator with the Pointe Coupee DA's Office years ago.”

“Sure, I know him. Jerry was Barron's right hand back in the day.” Trooper Myles nodded.

“I'm on my way to interview him about an old case. I hear he was good.”

“I guess he got the job done.” Trooper Myles crossed his arms. “So what's up?”

“Something strange about how it went down. One of the principals is trying to get paroled,” Derrick said.

“Oh yeah?”

“She's suggesting there was some wrongdoing with the whole deal.” Derrick watched the older man's expression change.

“Yeah, well…” Trooper Myles rubbed his jaw. “Like I said, he got the job done. Whatever it took, if you know what I mean.”

“He bent the rules every now and then,” Derrick said carefully.

“All I'll say is this—if I ever testified for those two, I made sure my butt was covered.” Trooper Myles leaned against the 4Runner with one large hand on the vehicle. “I'm all for putting away crooks, but not at any cost. I've seen too many of 'em walk because some smart lawyer busted a funny investigation.”

“I got ya,” Derrick replied with a nod.

“Don't get me wrong, Jerry's a likable enough guy. He just pushed the limits a few times. His place is kinda tricky to find. I'll lead you there.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“No problem. I'm going on my dinner break anyway. There's a little café out here that serves the best fried shrimp po-boys in the world.” Trooper Myles gave him a friendly wave, then got into his car.

Derrick followed him down Highway 1. The white
patrol car turned onto Highway 978, then took a sharp turn down another smaller road. Thick shrubs and tall trees crowded right up to the blacktop pavement. Late-afternoon sunlight made the red and gold maple leaves look brilliant. Yet Derrick didn't notice the autumn beauty. Talia's angry words kept replaying inside his head. He knew only the passage of time would turn off that awful recording, a very long time. Yet his sense of justice and right drove him on. No way could he simply ignore the loose threads he'd uncovered. Maybe someday Talia would understand.

Trooper Myles turned onto a gravel driveway that was almost hidden by thick vegetation. Even in mid-October wildflowers bloomed. They rode only a few yards when a wide expanse of green lawn appeared. A large brick wall with the words
BAYOU TRACE
in bold white letters announced the name of the neighborhood. Upscale homes were scattered about. Myles drove toward a white-and-redbrick two-story house. A long driveway circled in front of the house. Another paved pathway led to a three-car garage on the south side of the house. Derrick parked behind Trooper Myles and got out.

“Man! I never would have guessed Hines lived here.” Derrick let out a low whistle as he took in the scene.

“You telling me you don't make this kinda money working for parish?” Trooper Myles said in droll tone.

“If Hines financed this lifestyle on his salary, then I'm gonna have a serious talk with my boss,” Derrick quipped.

“We should all be so lucky.” Trooper Myles wore a tight smile. “But luck had nothing to do with it.”

“Yeah,” Derrick said.

He went to the wide double entry doors and pressed the doorbell button. Musical chimes sounded a second later. They waited, but no one came.

“Nobody in the house I guess.” Trooper Myles walked to his left to a set of windows and peered in. “He's got an office around back. Maybe he's there.”

“Nice place.” Derrick let out a low whistle as they approached a swimming pool with a waterfall in one corner.

“Jerry Hines lives good, huh?” Myles said over his shoulder. “Here we go.” He pointed to a guest cottage.

“A car is coming. Maybe they're coming back from a shopping trip.” Derrick turned around and back toward the garage with Myles following.

The automatic garage door hummed open just as they emerged. A heavyset woman the color of mahogany drove up in a black BMW. She looked alarmed when she saw them. Dressed in a tan silk pantsuit, she sprang from the car almost before the engine shut off.

“What's wrong? Where's Jerome?” She left the passenger door open.

“Calm down, ma'am. We came out to talk to your husband. Mr. Hines isn't here,” Trooper Myles said, taking the lead.

“Of course he's here. This is his car. I left him catching up on work.” Mrs. Hines pointed to a pearly white Lexus, then scurried off. “It's this way.”

“Jerome,” Mrs. Hines called out as she pushed through the door of the guesthouse. She screamed moments later.

Hines lay on the floor with his legs at a crooked angle. Dark red stains dotted the light green carpet around him. Mrs. Hines fell to her knees and shook him.

“Jerome, wake up!” She flailed her arms.

“Does your husband suffer from heart problems, asthma?” Myles knelt beside her and scanned the prone man from head to toe.

“No, he's healthy for a man his age. Do something!” she wailed. Still, she didn't move aside enough to allow Myles much room.

“Ma'am, c'mon. Officer Myles knows emergency first aid.” Derrick pulled her back.

Myles was down on his knees gingerly touching the man's body. He leaned down and placed his cheek near Hines's mouth and nose. Then he paced two fingers against his neck.

All the while Derrick struggled to calm Mrs. Hines. She finally collapsed against him sobbing.

“Faint pulse, breathing is shallow,” Myles said. He took out his cell phone.

Derrick managed to tug Mrs. Hines along with him toward the open door. “Let's go get some first-aid supplies we might need. That way Trooper Myles won't have to leave your husband.”

Mrs. Hines nodded eagerly. “I've got a kit in the laundry room.

Derrick glanced over his shoulder and heard Myles say foul play was suspected. He started talking to keep Mrs. Hines from hearing more. She'd have to face the hard truth soon enough.

“Great. A first-aid kit will be a big help until the paramedics get here.”

“Jerome believes in being prepared. We've got two first-aid kits in the house, one downstairs and one upstairs. One in each car, and we had one on our boat.” She chattered on from nerves.

“Good, good,” Derrick replied vaguely. While she talked he scanned their surroundings. “I'll get the one upstairs in case we need more supplies.”

“Look in the second guest bathroom on the top shelf of the closet.” Mrs. Hines went to a wide cabinet near a washer and dryer.

“I'll be right back.”

Derrick searched the first floor before he went upstairs to make sure no one was in the house. He did the same thing upstairs and found nothing out of place. Tall windows gave all of the second-floor rooms a lovely view of the neighborhood. Going from room to room, he saw nothing suspicious outside. He found the first-aid kit and went back downstairs.

“Let's go back, please. I've got to help Jerome.” Mrs. Hines rushed off ahead of him.

Myles was still talking into his cell phone when they arrived. “Yeah, he's barely hanging on,” he said.

“Oh my God!” Mrs. Hines pushed Myles aside and fell to her knees next to her husband.

“Don't move him, ma'am. We don't know what kind of injuries he has.” Trooper Myles managed to scoop the plump woman up into his arms. “The ambulance is about ten minutes away. I've done as much as I can for him. He's holding on.”

“Mr. Hines is a tough guy from what I know of him.” Derrick nodded at Myles over her head. Myles handed her off to him.

“What will I do without him?” Mrs. Hines went down on her knees next to her husband and sobbed.

“Try to be strong,” Derrick said, and patted her back.

“Looks like he did a good job of defending himself. He's got bruises on the knuckles of both hands,” Myles said quietly to Derrick.

“Yeah, this room shows it, too.” Derrick glanced around. Two chairs, a table, and a small bookshelf were turned over.

The high whining sound of sirens sliced through the air coming closer. Minutes later the small guesthouse was swarming with people. The emergency medical technicians treated Hines while talking into radios to
get instructions from a doctor. Then they put him on a gurney. Mrs. Hines, once again wailing in distress, followed them.

“Please, let me go with him in the ambulance,” she said.

“No problem. A familiar voice will be a comfort to him,” one of the emergency technicians said.

Mrs. Hines stopped crying and looked at Derrick hard. “Make sure my house is locked up tight. I don't want some thief stealing me blind.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Derrick replied.

“Give me your card so I can get in touch with you later,” she commanded. She looked at Trooper Myles. “I want your card, too. Y'all better not tear up my house either.”

“We'll do our best.” Trooper Myles handed her one of his cards.

“You'll pay for anything you break. I don't have no cheap stuff,” she clipped. Then she turned on the tears again.

“Man!” Myles muttered.

“She's probably already calculating her widow's benefits,” Derrick quipped.

“I'd hate to wake up in a hospital bed with her bending over me.” Myles shook his head and joined two sheriff's deputies.

Derrick watched from the sidelines. He knew better than to get underfoot. The state police had sent a crime scene unit out. Two men took their time making a list of everything in the room. One drew a diagram while the other called out the location of furniture and other items. Nothing found was considered trivial or irrelevant. The shorter man then took photos at different angles.

“You Guillory?” a sheriff's deputy asked.

“Yeah.” Derrick glanced at the tall redheaded woman.

“Your boss wants you back at the office.”

“What?”

“I'm just deliverin' a message.”

“Thanks.” Derrick took out his cell phone and called the office.

 

Talia rubbed her back when she stood. The padded blue hospital chair was old and not very comfortable. Within forty-eight hours of her surgery Monette's condition had stabilized. She'd been moved from intensive care to a room two days earlier. Since that time she'd slowly gained more and more strength. Talia walked over to the bed and stared down at her mother. Monette seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

Talia stretched, then went to the fourth-floor window. She pushed aside faded curtains to stare out. The view was as disheartening as the dingy pale green walls around her. Traffic moved sluggishly along the four-lane highway below. Brown tuffs of grass dotted the few places it grew. She watched birds sail through the bright blue autumn sky.
Signs of hope,
she mused, without feeling any inside.

“Hey, you,” Monette said in a low scratchy voice.

Talia whirled around and went to the bed. “You took a long nap.”

“Yeah,” Monette croaked. She gazed at the room, moving only her eyes. “Lousy interior design. State?”

“The charity hospital in Baton Rouge.” Talia smoothed down the sheets around her.

Monette winced when she tried to shift in the bed. “Damn! That bitch tapped me good.”