Blackfoot Affair (4 page)

“But not when it interferes with the progress of your career,” Tracy interjected.

“That isn’t fair!” Marisa countered, tossing her crumpled breakfast napkin in the trash. “I have no desire to see anyone else get hurt, either. I merely resent the fact that he thinks he’s going to pressure me into doing as he says when his own lawyer won’t listen to him.”

“Aren’t you overreacting a little? I guess he figured it was worth a try.”

Marisa leaned forward urgently. “If I ask for a delay, Lasky becomes even more prejudiced against me than he is already, Brady is in the clear, and Bluewolf gets what he wants without sacrificing an iota of Lasky’s goodwill for his side. Wouldn’t you feel used in my place?”

“I suppose so,” Tracy said slowly. Then, after a moment, “What are you going to do?”

“If Mr. Bluewolf wants a delay he can ask for it himself. I’ll be in court at nine o’clock as planned,” Marisa said flatly and went to the bathroom to take a shower.

* * *

Marisa’s bravado deserted her when she stepped outside the hotel at eight forty-five and saw the mob scene across the street at the courthouse. There seemed to be at least three times the usual number of people assembled outside and the sound level was deafening. As she moved toward the intersection with Tracy at her side, it seemed that the protesters turned as one body to stare at them and, incredibly, the crowd noise got even louder.

“Oh, my God,” Tracy said at her side. “We should have requested a federal marshal as an escort.”

“Don’t show them that you’re scared,” Marisa replied.
      
‘

“If you wanted a performance like that you should have sent me to acting school,” Tracy responded darkly.

They marched, side by side like soldiers, across the street and into the crowd, which parted for them like the Red Sea. Marisa looked straight ahead as they walked up the courthouse steps, so she didn’t see the arm emerging from the mob, the arm holding the gun.

What happened next was a blur. She heard Tracy scream and saw Jackson Bluewolf appear before her like a genie out of a bottle. He grabbed her upper arms and thrust her aside so powerfully that she fell. At the same instant she heard the crack of a gunshot and Jack tumbled to the steps nearly on top of her, his shoulder smudged dark with a powder burn and then blossoming red.

The scene was chaos. Marisa struggled to her knees, stunned, as people began running to and fro yelling, “He’s hit!” and “Get an ambulance!” Policemen she hadn’t seen previously materialized as if from nowhere and subdued the assailant, who was sobbing, “I didn’t mean Jack, I didn’t mean to shoot Jack!” And Bluewolf was crumpled like a discarded doll on the courthouse steps, his eyes closed, blood staining his jacket and running down his hand.

Marisa crawled over to him and yanked on his tie, loosening his collar. His eyes fluttered open and for a second she was sure he knew her. Then someone appeared at her side saying, “I’m a doctor,” and she was pulled away as all attention was directed to the wounded man.

Marisa didn’t realize she was crying until Tracy sat down next to her on the steps, oblivious to the crowd milling around them, and handed her a tissue. The clicking and whirring of cameras formed an incessant backdrop to the other noises surrounding them.

“That bullet was meant for me,” Marisa gasped.

“I know,” Tracy said, not meeting her eyes. “The shooter was the dead boy’s brother. I heard somebody talking about it.”

They both watched as Jack was loaded onto a stretcher and carried down the steps into a waiting ambulance.

“You don’t have to say it,” Marisa added dully. “I know it’s all my fault.”

Tracy just shook her head.

“I want to go after the ambulance to the hospital,” Marisa said quickly, rising.

“I doubt if they’ll let you in to see him.”

“I have to try.”

Tracy stood also. “At any rate, we’d better get out of here. Once the excitement dies down we might become very unpopular. Let’s go.”

They went back to the hotel, where Marisa called the hospital. Bluewolf was listed as stable, whatever that meant, but was allowed no visitors.

“Tracy, you’d better stay here,” Marisa said. “See if you can get through to Judge Lasky’s chambers, and then get in touch with the firm. Take messages for any calls that come through here.”

Tracy stared at her.

“Don’t look at me that way.”
 

“You’ll just be mobbed at the hospital,” Tracy said.

Marisa went there anyway.

The lobby was full of reporters and police. The NFN lawyer, Ben Brady, spotted Marisa and scuttled to her side, grabbing her shoulder and steering her into an adjacent hallway.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he said, looking past her at the room they’d just left.

“Same thing you are,” Marisa responded, yanking her arm from his grasp. “I want to make sure Bluewolf is all right.”

“If you go back out there the press will eat you alive. It’s common knowledge already that the kid was aiming at you.”

“And did you aid in disseminating that knowledge?” Marisa inquired coldly.

“Hey, don’t blame me for your screwup. If you had asked for the continuance this might not have happened.”

“You had the same opportunity to do so that I did! Bluewolf told me he wanted you to talk to Lasky and you refused.”

“When did he tell you that?” Brady asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Never mind, it’s not important now. Can you get me upstairs to see him or not?”

“Why should I do that?” Brady countered.

“Because he was hurt trying to protect me. A decent person would let me satisfy my conscience that he’s all right,” Marisa said evenly.

Brady studied her in silence.

“Or am I making an incorrect assumption that you’re a decent person?”

Brady shrugged. “I can take you up to his room, but my guess is that’s as far as you’ll get.”

“I’ll take that chance.”

Brady turned around and guided her through the crowd, shoving off aggressive reporters and ignoring the shrill cries which surrounded them. They were almost running when they reached the elevator. Brady punched the button with the flat of his hand and they fell against the inside walls of the cage as the doors closed and it ascended.

“Nice group, eh? ” he said sarcastically.

When they got to the third floor the atmosphere was much calmer, brisk and efficient. Brady introduced Marisa to the attending doctor at the nurse’s station.

“How is Mr. Bluewolf?” Marisa said anxiously.

“You’re not a relative, right?”

“No, I’m...”
 

“The target of the gunman,” Brady finished for her when she hesitated.

“Ah, I see,” the doctor said, nodding. “Well, he’s lost a lot of blood, but we’re transfusing him and he’s young and healthy. We’ll be operating soon to remove the bullet. Unless he throws a clot or something else extraordinary happens, he should recover from the wound all right.”

Marisa closed her eyes. “Thank you.”

“Why did that guy take the bullet for you?” the doctor asked her curiously.

“He didn’t mean to, it was an accident. He was trying to shove me out of the way,” Marisa said.

“Haven’t you heard, Doctor?” Brady said lightly. “Chivalry is not dead.”

Marisa silenced him with a look.

“May I see him?” she asked the doctor.

The doctor shook his head. “Not until after the surgery. His sister and mother are on their way from Oklahoma. Once they get here they can determine the visiting list.”

“May I wait around until the operation’s over?”

He gestured toward a small waiting room at the end of the corridor. “You can sit in there if you want. It will be a while.” He hurried off to waylay a passing nurse.

“Are you going to hang around here?” Brady asked Marisa.

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you go back to your hotel? I’ll call you.”

Marisa shook her head. “I’ll wait.”

“Feeling responsible?” he said baitingly.

“Goodbye,” Marisa said, turning her back. She walked to the waiting room and sat down in one of the plastic chairs.

It was a very long day. She talked to Tracy on the phone a couple of times, watched a soap opera on the lounge television and then fell asleep. When she woke up it was dark and a nurse was shaking her.

“Aren’t you waiting on the Bluewolf case?” she asked.

“Yes,” Marisa replied worriedly, sitting up quickly.

“He’s out of recovery and back in his room. He’ll be fine.”

Marisa nodded wordlessly and pressed the nurse’s hand.

“Why don’t you go home?” the nurse suggested kindly.

Marisa stood stiffly and headed for the hall.

It was stretching a point to call a hotel “home.”
 

* * *

“You’re not going back to the hospital?” Tracy said in an exasperated tone the next morning. They were in the hotel coffee shop.

“There might have been a change overnight.”

“And what if the relatives are there? Do you think they’re going to fall on your neck in welcome?”

“I’ll deal with them.”

“Charlie is supposed to call this morning. The detective from the local police is coming back. He wants you to fill out an incident report on the shooting. And that guy, Block, from the Bureau of Indian Affairs will be here this afternoon. He’ll want to see you, not me.”

“I’ll be back by four,” Marisa replied, picking up her purse. “I’ll check in with you in a couple of hours. Lasky may make a decision today about when to resume the hearing.”

“And what if he wants to talk to you directly?”

“Call me at the hospital, third floor lounge.”

Tracy threw up her hands and went back to her omelet. If Marisa insisted on keeping this vigil there was nothing she could do about it.

Jack’s mother and sister were in the hall outside Jack’s room when Marisa got there. They didn’t have to be identified. The tall, beautiful girl with waist length black hair looked just like him and the older woman was obviously her mother.

“I’m Marisa Hancock,” Marisa said to the girl, extending her hand, her heart pounding.

The girl looked at her blankly.

“The government’s attorney in the highway case,” Marisa explained flatly.

The girl’s eyes widened. “You’re the one Jeff Rivertree was trying to shoot,” she said incredulously.

Marisa nodded bleakly.

“What’s going on, Ana?” her mother asked, looking from one young woman to the other.

“I’ll handle this, Mama,” the girl said. “Why don’t you go into the lounge and have a seat? I’ll be right with you.”

The older woman hesitated, then left. Jack’s sister turned back to Marisa.

“I’m Ana Carter, Jackson’s sister. What are you doing here, Ms. Hancock?” she asked coldly.

“I was hoping to get in to see your brother.”

The girl folded her arms and stared back at Marisa, who refused to flinch.

“You want to visit my brother, Ms. Hancock?” she asked, raising her dark brows.

“Well, yes.”

“Do you really think he’ll want to see you?”

“It’s more like I need to confirm for myself that he’s all right,” Marisa admitted.

“The word of Jack’s doctor is not good enough for you?”

Marisa sighed and looked down at her hands. “Ms. Carter, this situation is complicated. Suffice it to say that I feel a responsibility for your brother’s injury. Isn’t that enough reason to be concerned?”

“Yes, I talked to Mr. Brady. I can understand your position, Ms. Hancock, and I would not want to be in it.”

Marisa straightened and looked at the other woman directly. “Do I get to see him or not?” she asked baldly.

“Not,” Ana Carter replied crisply. “Relatives only today.”

“What about tomorrow?”
 

“That’s up to the doctor.”

“Fine. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Marisa turned to go and Jack’s sister called after her, “You’ll probably be wasting your time.”
 

“I’ll take that chance,” Marisa replied. She went around the bend in the corridor as Ana Carter looked after her.

That evening Marisa met with Randall Block from the Bureau. He was concerned only with winning the legal case and irritated her with a number of impractical suggestions designed to inflame the situation even further. After that unproductive experience she went to the police station and answered a lot of obvious questions. When she got back to the hotel she learned that the case had been continued for two weeks, and that her firm had given her permission to remain in Florida to work on it.

“Are you surprised Charlie isn’t flying down here to oversee things himself?” Tracy asked. They were both too keyed up to sleep.

“I’m surprised I haven’t been recalled to Maine and then shot at sunrise,” Marisa replied wearily, stretching out on her bed.