Authors: Sandra Kitt
It was 6:42.
Suddenly people were everywhere. In the gathering crowd stood a shocked Sarah Chen, and Biddy Rosen patted Leah’s shoulder gently, trying to comfort her. There was the screeching of car brakes and car horns and shouts. Someone tried to pull Leah away from Jason’s side, and she resisted forcefully, maintaining her grip on his limp body. Leah held the end of her skirt over the wound to still the flow of blood. Her hair fell in a frizzy mass around her face. When she impatiently tried to sweep it back, she ended up with Jason’s blood smeared in her hair and on her face.
“Jason … Jason …” She kept whispering his name over and over so he wouldn’t slip away from her. His mouth was working, but Leah couldn’t tell if he was trying to speak or trying to breathe. His gun was on the ground at his side, and with his free hand he tried to touch the pain in his chest. Leah grabbed his hand and held it away from the wound.
The distant scream of sirens filled the air until it was deafening. Half a dozen cars and officers appeared at Jason’s side, and Leah quickly gave his name and precinct. Two of the officers knew him. One recovered Jason’s gun, the other checked his vital signs and examined the wound.
“We’re not going to wait. Let’s get him in the car,” he said with authority.
He slipped his hands under Jason’s shoulder and began to lift him. Two other officers moved in to help. They transported him to the back of a squad car and shifted Jason into the backseat. Leah still had hold of his hand.
“Lady, get out of the way.”
“I’m going with him,” Leah said firmly, eyeing the officer defiantly.
“You can’t come along. Who the hell are you, anyway?”
Leah was nearly hysterical. “I belong with him and I’m going.
I’m going …”
“All right, all right. …” Another officer tried to calm her. He looked at her closely. “You’re Leah, aren’t you?
Leah tried to focus on him through her tears and hard breathing. It was Officer O’Neill. “Yes. Yes. Please help me …”
O’Neill turned and yelled, “Hey, Dave? Follow me in your car, and bring this lady with you.”
Leah was quickly ushered into another squad car, and the sirens were turned on once again.
“I have your things, Leah. Don’t worry,” someone yelled to her. Maybe Biddy. She couldn’t tell. It wasn’t important just then.
Out the squad car window as they drove from the scene, Leah could see another half-dozen cops surrounding the wounded Slack. The officer driving called in the emergency, and the dispatch box in the front of the squad car hissed the call for a 1013: officer in distress. A trauma code was called ahead to the nearest hospital. It seemed like just a few seconds before the car was again screeching to a halt and a crew of five or six medical personnel from the hospital were preparing to lay Jason on a stretcher.
In the flurry of the emergency everyone forgot about Leah, but she followed closely behind. Someone, perhaps it was an intern, asked brusquely if she was hurt, seeing her covered with blood.
“No … no,” she answered.
He turned and took off after the others.
The emergency room filled with shouted orders and intercom summonses for doctors. There must have been a dozen uniformed officers and plainclothes cops checking to see what had happened. In minutes some left to return to the scene, where the perpetrator was being taken by ambulance to another hospital for treatment of a gunshot wound to the upper leg. Other officers were checking to see if they had the right blood type for donation.
Leah tried to follow the stretcher into the treatment room, catching a mere glimpse of Jason’s blood-soaked shirt being cut away from his chest, but she was stopped by a nurse.
“Sorry, hon. You can’t go in there.” She tried to steer Leah to another corner, out of view of the triage center.
The nurse looked at the distraught black woman, saw the dried blood, the disheveled clothes, the worn, worried eyes, and her voice softened. “Don’t worry. He’s getting the best.”
She once again tried moving Leah, but Leah was centered on the people moving in and around the treatment room door, and she wouldn’t move.
“Look, why don’t we wash off some of the blood and get you something to drink? Then you can wait here until they’re finished. Okay?”
Leah nodded wearily and gave in. The nurse escorted her to a rest room and gently pushed her through the door. In a few minutes she was back with her face cleaned and her hair more or less smoothed into place. She’d tried to sponge her blouse, but now it just looked like a marbled pink design; the nurse could guess that the skirt and blouse didn’t matter in the least. She pressed a cup of hot coffee into Leah’s hands.
Leah was just holding the coffee when the treatment room door burst open and a gurney was wheeled out, Jason on it. He was hooked to an IV and tubes and portable machines. He was deathly pale and didn’t respond when Leah called his name.
“Where are they taking him?” she asked the nurse anxiously.
“Up to surgery … no, no. You can’t go,” the nurse said. She grabbed Leah’s arm when she tried to board the elevator with the gurney. The doors closed, leaving them standing there. The nurse again took pity on her.
“It’s going to be a while before he comes out. Why don’t you come with me and give me some information? If we hear anything, believe me, you’ll be in the right place to know.”
Leah followed the nurse to the station. She looked at the clock, an then the phone, and back at the clock again. She looked down at her skirt and blouse, at the dried blood, now brown in color. Leah noticed now that the crystal on her watch was broken. Overwhelmed with the reality of what had happened in the space of just a few minutes, she stared blindly into space while tears silently rolled down her cheeks.
Joe had taken her home sometime after midnight, after Jason had come out of surgery. Leah was so numbed by the whole experience that when she got home she wasn’t sure what day it was, what week. Even now, two days later, it seemed incredible that an angry youngster had pumped holes into Jason’s body.
Leah couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually slept, although she reasoned that she must have. She must have closed her eyes sometime during the two endless days and nights. She must have given herself up to a black abyss with no dreams at all. It was as if the incident with Slack had become one with the nightmare and canceled each other out.
Joe had come to the hospital just after Jason had been taken to surgery. Leah had finally permitted herself to collapse. She’d fallen into Joe’s arms and wept. He’d comforted her awkwardly and sat her down to find out what had happened. Joe had seen that Leah’s eyes were like saucers in a face grown tight and pinched with shock. He’d stayed with her at the hospital, had taken charge and phoned Nora and Gail.
When the surgery was over at eleven-thirty that night, it was Joe who grabbed the doctor and demanded answers.
“He’s going to be fine. He came in in shock; that’s because of the tremendous loss of blood. We had to clean out the chest cavity and reinflate his lung, but we got the bullet and did some other repairs. He’s stabilized and resting easy now. You can see him tomorrow when he’s out of recovery.”
“Can’t I see him now? For just a minute?” Leah pleaded.
“Brooklyn …” Joe began, shaking his head.
“I think it’s best you don’t,” the doctor said. “For one thing, he won’t know you’re there. For another, you’re not in such great shape, either. Let the officer take you home, get some rest yourself, and come back tomorrow.” The doctor nodded to Joe and walked away.
She began to cry again, this time in sheer frustration.
“Come on, Brooklyn. Jace is a tough son of a bitch, and he’ll survive. We’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
But tomorrow she still had not seen him. Only immediate family and what seemed to be hundreds of police officials had been allowed near him. A press conference had been called, and the daily papers carried the whole story. Even the mayor had made the standard visit to a wounded officer injured in the line of duty. Leah had to be content that at least Jason’s sister and Joe were close at hand. If there had been anything to report, she would have heard through one of them.
Leah rubbed her throbbing temples. It was eight o’clock in the morning. It had been almost three days. She’d taken a shower and padded around listlessly in her robe. She was going to call in sick again. Food was the last thing on her mind, but she was aware of not having eaten a solid meal in over forty-eight hours. She got up slowly and made her way to the stereo and turned it on. She sat limply on the arm of the sofa and glanced out the window, where, just a few yards away, the shooting had taken place. She could almost hear the gunshots, hear herself screaming, see Jason falling.
The phone rang, scaring her silly. She stared at it, as if it was some odd, foreign presence. She finally picked it up on the fourth ring, holding the receiver as though it might burn her.
“Hello,” she whispered.
“Hi. I’d like to speak with Leah Downey.”
“Yes, I’m Leah.”
“This is Nancy Collins. I’m Jason’s sister.”
“Yes, I know who you are.”
“I got your number from Joe.”
Leah was suddenly afraid to respond. Nancy Collins chuckled.
“Don’t worry. This isn’t bad news. Jason is fine and he’s raising hell. He wants to see you.”
“Yes, yes …” Leah said on a long sigh. “I’ll be right over.”
“No, you stay there. Joe’s coming to get you. I’m looking forward to meeting you,” she said with sincerity, and hung up.
Leah slowly replaced the receiver. She hastened to the radio and turned it off. With more energy and purpose than she thought she could ever command, she headed for the stairwell. She heard Gail start down and then saw her sister, smartly dressed and unscathed by what had been going on for two days. She had a suitcase in hand.
Leah knew that Allen was coming to pick her up and together they were flying down to Atlanta. She didn’t mind. The night Jason had been shot, Gail had immediately canceled the flight that would have sent her and Allen on their way south. Leah had needed her and Gail had stayed.
Gail reached the foot of the stairs and frowned at her.
“Girl, you look awful,” she said. “See what love does to you?”
Leah only smiled. She appreciated that in that moment she could smile.
“I’m sorry I have to leave you like this.”
“It’s okay. I’m going to see Jason. You and Allen have things to do.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay with someone rather than be here in this big old house alone?”
“Positive.”
Leah made to pass Gail and head for her own room to get dressed.
“Leah … look, I know I’ve been real hard on you and Jason. I couldn’t help myself. There’s just too much stuff still goin’ on out there. But I’m sorry this happened. I’m glad they got little punk that did it.”
“It was a black little punk that did it,” Leah responded.
“Figures …” Gail shrugged. “Tell Jason I wish him well. Now he’ll get better just to get even with me. That ought to shock the hell out of him.”
“Believe me, it will.” Leah kissed Gail’s cheek and hugged her. “I’m happy for you and Allen. I’m really glad there’s someone out there who finds you lovable.”
They both started to laugh. The doorbell rang.
“That’s Allen,” Gail said, breaking away.
“Bye. Have a good flight,” Leah said as she watched her sister leave.
But before Gail had gotten into Allen’s waiting car, Leah was already up the stairs and starting to change.
When Joe led Leah from the elevator, she had a moment’s panic when she wondered what she and Jason would say to each other now, after what had happened to him. Leah stood rooted outside the elevator, staring down the hospital corridor. It was lined with cops and reporters. She couldn’t help thinking that maybe she didn’t belong here right now. Not yet.
But two women separated themselves from the group. One was Nora, who gave Leah a generous hug and told her not to look like
she
had been convicted and sentenced. The other woman was obviously Nancy Collins. She wasn’t at all what Leah had thought Jason’s sister would be like. She was petite and forthright but with an engaging smile. Her curiosity about Leah showed in her gray eyes as she shook Leah’s hands, but there was also sincere empathy.
“Know what I think?” Nancy began with a broad smile.
“What?” Leah asked.
“I think you’ll do Jace more good than any doctor.”
Leah hoped that Nancy was right. She continued down the corridor, watching its occupants part before her. Her stomach tensed when she spotted Spano. It never occurred to her that he might be here. There was no love lost between him and Jason.
It made her wonder if the fraternity of being a cop was a stronger bond than she could ever understand. Spano glared at her and half turned away, continuing their Mexican stand-off. Leah didn’t care. If anything like this happened to Spano, Jason would be there for him, too. That was the way the brotherhood worked.
With a sudden thought, she punched for a cup of coffee from a hall vending machine and held tightly onto the styrofoam cup. Finally she stood at the open door to Jason’s room. He was seated on the side of his bed, his back to the door. He was wearing the red baseball cap. A nurse, who’d just finished drawing blood and taking his temperature, was talking cheerfully to him. When she noticed Leah in the doorway she smiled.
“You have another visitor. And she’s a lot prettier than the crew in the hallway. Come on in. I’m finished here.”
The nurse left, and slowly Jason tried to look over his shoulder. He winced painfully halfway through and elected to sit back instead against the pillows. Leah took a step into the room and stopped again. Visible through his open pajama top was a lumpy and awkward dressing over his chest wound. She grimaced with uncertainty.
“You look funny in pajamas.”
Jason held out a hand. “Nora’s idea. Close the door. I’ll take them off.”
Leah eagerly took hold of the offered hand, feeling her blood system begin to warm and flow normally again. Jason pulled her to the edge of the bed, and she handed him the coffee. “I hope it’s okay for you to have this.”