Authors: Amanda McIntyre
The Imperial’s owner sighed. “This is not good for business.”
“Were you aware if this man was expecting guests this evening?” Gleason asked, pulling out a small notepad and scribbling a few times on the pad to get the ink flowing.
“Only a girl,” Madam replied. “That is all I know. Whatever else happened, I know nothing about it.”
“We found the doorman. They must have gotten to him after the girl came in.
He’s rattled, but he’ll be okay,” Gleason remarked.
“I don’t suppose you keep a guest book for clients?” Shado’s irritation with the ambulance’s delay provoked his patience, already stretched thin. He should have followed her in, and maybe she wouldn’t be lying there slowly bleeding to death.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced up to meet his boss’s cautionary look. “If you would be so kind, Madam Lee, we’ll need to see the registration and credit card information of the man in the room.” He spoke with seasoned protocol.
“Where’s that fucking ambulance?” Shado muttered. The blood seemed to be spreading. He held his hand out to Madam Lee. “Give me your scarf.”
She hesitated, but only for a heartbeat before removing the cloth from her neck.
“On their way.” Gleason shrugged. “Best we can do.”
The woman’s head lolled lifelessly as he lifted her to tie the scarf around her wound. It wasn’t the best, but it was all he had. He was tired of waiting. “To hell with this.” Shado reached down and scooped her into his arms. God, she was pale. “Where’s the van?”
The front door opened and both undercover cops entered, breathing heavily. One of them gestured behind him. “They had a car waiting around the corner. I couldn’t get the license plate.”
“Damn,” Gleason cursed under his breath. “You two stay here and watch the scene until our boys get here. No one goes in that room, understood?”
They nodded and Madam Lee, with confusion etched on her face, followed them to the front door. Gleason rushed into the street and summoned the van. It cut away from the curb and squealed to a stop in front of the hotel. In the next block, the sound of sirens filled the icy night air.
“Are you okay, Madam Lee?” Shado asked as he shifted the woman in his arms. She was light, even in her boots. “I’ll let you know how she’s doing,” he called over the hood of the car.
“Yes, yes. But do you know who this woman—” Her words were cut off when the van door slammed shut.
***
Shado held the fragile-looking woman in his lap, ignoring his partner. She hadn’t moved. His mind replayed the instant the assailant hit her with his gun.
“Do you know her name?” Gleason asked as he punched a set of numbers into his cell phone.
“I need Billy,” she muttered softly.
Shado gently turned her face to his. “What did you say, sweetheart?” But she’d already slipped back into unconsciousness. Her face was pale, with almost doll like delicate features. Not the type Madam Lee would normally hire, which made it even more probable she worked directly for Espinoza. He tossed a glance at his superior, who by his expression questioned Shado’s emotional involvement with the situation. Perhaps if he didn’t feel partially responsible for her injury, he wouldn’t have near the vested interest. Then again, she was their only eyewitness to the murder.
“We’re going to need a forensics crew at the Imperial hotel.” Gleason spoke
into his phone. “We’re en route now to Renown Regional with one civilian injured during the skirmish with suspects.” There was a brief pause. “Two of my men engaged in a foot pursuit, yes.” Another pause. “Unfortunately, the suspects got away in a vehicle.” He rolled his eyes. “No, they weren’t able to get plates.” He hesitated and stifled a sigh. “No, the civilian sustained a blow to her head and is currently unconscious… right.” He snapped his phone shut. “Captain’s meeting us at the hospital.”
Shado nodded, going over in his mind what he would say when asked. Could he have prevented injury to an innocent bystander?
Was she
an innocent bystander? “She saw the murderer.” He spoke his thoughts aloud.
“You did too, as far as we know,” Gleason remarked. “Hell, Jackson,
she
could have murdered the guy. We don’t know anything yet.”
“She wasn’t in possession of a weapon when that guy held her hostage. He had her in a headlock.”
“Maybe she was in on it.”
Shado frowned. “My gut tells me she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Her head bumped against the window, and he shifted so she rested fully against his shoulder.
“I’m concerned it’s not your gut you’re thinking with here, Jackson. Are you sure you’re seeing this objectively?”
The comment scraped his already sensitive nerves. Maybe he was fooling himself. Still, if this woman had an inkling of an idea where he could find Espinoza, he was going to make damn sure he had first crack at her when she awoke. “Get real,” he scoffed, but when he glanced down at her peaceful expression, something foreign breezed over his heart.
***
She awoke to a piercing light and a rip-snorting headache. “Where am I?” The question was pertinent on so many levels. Her head throbbed. She raised her hand to shade her eyes. “The light hurts.” The searing brightness dimmed.
“Is that better?” a gentle voice asked.
She nodded, peering through her narrowed vision and noted a silver-haired older man in a white coat standing by her. Pristine white linens covered her body. “Who are you?” She briefly scanned the sparsely furnished room. A heavy pine soap smell permeated the air, and it was so quiet. The man lifted her wrist, and she noticed the tube sticking from the top of her hand. She gasped and jerked away.
“Just a little fluid to help bring your electrolytes back in order.” The man took her hand and patted it, then pressed his thumb against her flesh and eyed his watch.
“There now.” He nodded. “Your pulse is much better. My name is Dr. Stevens. You’re at Renown Regional Hospital. You’ve had quite a blow to your head.” He studied her. “Do you remember your name?”
She frowned. Well, of course, she did. She licked her lips, wishing she had a drink of water. Surely, it would come to her. “It’s… it….” Her mind drew a blank.
She shook her head. For some reason it wasn’t coming to her.
He patted her arm. “It’s okay. You’re probably suffering a mild form of temporary amnesia from the trauma. It will likely pass. But you’ll need to get plenty of rest, and you should be checked in on routinely to be safe.”
The rugged-looking man from the tree lot stepped from the shadows of the room. He glanced at her, then the doctor. “Is it okay to ask her a few questions,
Doc?”
Those blue eyes were unmistakable. “Do
you
know me?” she asked, beginning to think she might never awaken from this horrible nightmare.
He nodded and patted her arm. “I do, but I’m afraid you didn’t tell me your name.” His face was kind. For some reason, she trusted him.
“I’d like to run a few quick tests, first.” The doctor pulled out a small object with a bright tip. “Please look at me,” he ordered quietly. “That’s right. Good. Look left. And now to the right.” He took the small light away. “Thank you. Relax, go ahead and blink a couple of times.” He regarded her with a gentle smile. “Are you feeling well enough to answer a few questions?”
She looked at the stranger who’d given her directions. Another man, dressed in a fine gray suit and wearing a cowboy hat had entered the room. “Certainly. I have a few of my own.” She reached up, and her fingers brushed over the bandage adhered to her forehead. “You brought me here?”
The man reached up, pulling off his brown cap and raked his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. His serious expression was broken briefly by a nod and a quick smile, which made the corners of his eyes crinkle. She didn’t find it odd she remembered him. Her body recalled before her brain did the reaction she’d had to him on the street. He had a firm jaw, shadowed by the hint of a beard and wore the same brown coveralls she’d seen him in earlier.
“I met you on the street. Was I shot? I seem to remember hearing gunfire.”
He glanced at his friend. “Let’s start with introductions.” He placed his hand on his chest. “I’m Detective Jackson and this is my superior, Detective Gleason.” He directed a friendly smile to her. “Thankfully, you weren’t shot. You’re one very lucky young lady considering the circumstances.
“I understand you’re having a bit of trouble with your memory. But if you’re able, we’d like to see if you retained any details that could be useful. Sometimes, walking through the sequence of events can help jog things a little. Are you willing to give it a try?” She nodded.
“Great. You tell us if you’re getting tired or anything, right?”
His sincerity touched her, diffusing her fears. “I will.”
“Do you know the name of the man who hit you?”
“No, he didn’t tell me his name. I’ve never seen him before.”
“Did he speak to you directly? Call
you
by name, perhaps?”
Her thoughts swirled in her brain, pressing against her skull. Frustrated, she shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. He called me bitch.”
The younger detective’s face blossomed with a friendly grin. He glanced at his friend. “Yeah, that was right after you bit his arm.” “He was choking me,” she replied.
“Hey, I’d probably have done the same thing.” His smile made her stomach feel strange. “Do you recall anything before he grabbed you?”
She shut her eyes and tried to envision the events as they happened. The images were disjointed, and she couldn’t seem to find a way to put them together to make any sense. “It’s strange. I feel like my name is on the tip of my tongue, but I just can’t say it.”
“It’s okay. Take your time,” he reassured her. “Did you have a purse, maybe a wallet with some form of ID?”
She frowned. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘ID.’”
Detective Jackson shot the other man a strange look and then returned his attention to her. “Okay then, let’s see if we can focus on the hotel. Tell me everything you saw.”
“There was someone who held the door open for me.” She paused. “I was walking across the lobby when I noticed a big man standing in an open doorway.” Her mind replayed the flash of the scene that came next and she gasped. “There was shouting and as I tried to see what the ruckus was about, the man stepped aside and I saw….” She stopped and clutched her chest to steady her heart.
“Another man inside the room… there was blood, and then he fell to the floor.” She looked at Detective Jackson. “I wanted to do something, but I couldn’t move. Then the big man grabbed me. I thought he was going to kill me, too.” She stared at the sheet as she recalled bits and pieces of what came after. “I fought him, tried to call for help, but he had his arm over my mouth. He was so strong. I thought… I thought I was going to die.”
“Okay, it’s okay. That’s very helpful.” He patted her hand. “How about the doorman? Did you see what happened to him?”
Her mind was a blur. Snippets of memory popped in at random intervals. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. Oh, I saw a blur of another person running from the room as I was struggling, but I didn’t see his face.”
“No problem. It will come to you. What happened before you went inside?” her blue-eyed friend prompted. “Do you remember us meeting?”
“Yes, I do.” She held his gaze, sensing, as she had then, the sparks between them.
“Anything before we met?” he asked.
She nodded, wincing a little at the movement. “There was this nice man who gave me a coat.” She pushed to her elbows and looked around her. “Where is it?
He loaned it to me from his boss.”
Detective Jackson took her hand in his and her heart skipped a beat. “We’ve got it. It’s hanging in the locker. Did you know the man who offered you the coat?
Where did you meet him?”
“I don’t know. There was another man who called him his
brother
, but in truth they didn’t appear to be related.”
“Why do you say that?” he asked.
Angel looked from one man to the other. “One had dark skin and the other didn’t.”
There was a brief silence before the detective spoke. “Where did you speak with the man?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head slowly. “I don’t know where I was. It was a large building with lots of people. More than I’ve ever seen in one place. A man was playing piano on a big stage. People were clapping and singing.” “The musical,” the other man quietly interjected.
Detective Jackson’s gaze never left hers. “And what about before that? Who were you with before the musical?”
She pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead. “Nothing is clear. It’s like a muddy pond in my head. I’m sorry.” Her stomach growled plaintively. “I don’t even recall the last time I ate.” Her hunger was the first sign of something normal.
“We’ll get you something to eat as soon as we have the okay from the doc.” He glanced at the doctor. “She’s going to be okay. We can get her something to eat soon, right?”