Dark Hearts (3 page)

“Over here!” someone yelled.

He turned and ran.

The driver was lying facedown on the missing windshield, and when Sam saw him, for a split second the night and the people around him disappeared and he thought he was hearing the
whup whup whup
from the rotors of a chopper and watching blood running out of his buddy's head and seeping into the sand at his feet. The heat of the desert wind was in his face as the flashing lights from the highway patrol car momentarily blinded him. It was the lights that yanked him out of the flashback.

“He's dead!” the man yelled, waving at the patrolman who was coming their way.

As Sam dropped down on one knee to check the body for a pulse, the man said again, “He's dead. I done checked.”

Sam was numb. The driver was in his early twenties, and the man was right. He was dead.

A crowd was gathering around the body, and they were all talking at once, wanting to tell their version of what they'd seen to the highway patrolman.

Sam glanced down at the boy one last time, and then turned around and walked back to his SUV. He tossed the flashlight onto the seat beside him, grabbed a canister of hand wipes and began pulling out the sheets to clean his hands, and then he kept pulling them out and wiping and pulling them out and wiping until he realized he was crying. He took a slow, shaky breath as he threw the canister on the floor, then wadded up the hand wipes and put them in a trash bag.

“Jesus wept,” he said softly, and then closed his eyes, but the sight was still burned into his brain, and the moment he spoke the words, he remembered a scene from his childhood and the scolding his mother had given him for what he'd said.

Do not use the Lord's name in vain, Samuel Wade.

I didn't curse, Mama. That's a Bible verse. Daddy said it's the shortest verse in the Bible.

Well, your daddy is right, but so am I. Don't say that again unless you're on your knees saying prayers.

Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry, Mama.

Sam rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He wasn't on his knees, but he needed to be.

“I'm sorry, Mama,” he said softly. “Sorry for everything.”

He could almost feel her hand on the back of his neck.

It's okay, Sammy. When you know better, you do better.

He put the car in gear and slowly pulled back onto the interstate. For some strange reason, home seemed even farther away.

* * *

Trey and Lee were alone in the waiting room. Dallas had gone home because the livestock needed tending. He'd put out a couple of round bales of hay for their cattle early this morning, so they wouldn't have to be tended to for a couple of days, but Dallas's hens had to be fed and watered, and the eggs had to be gathered, no matter what else was wrong with their world.

They were still in the waiting room when Trey's phone rang. He saw it was Dallas and answered quickly.

“Hey, honey. Everything all right?” he asked.

“Yes. I'm getting ready to drive back into town. Is Trina still in surgery?”

“Yes, but don't drive back. I was watching the weather earlier, and there's a heavy thunderstorm predicted for this area. I don't want you out on the roads in that.”

“But, Trey, I don't want you there by yourself.”

“I'm not alone. Lee's here. I'll let you know the minute she's out of surgery. Just stay home. At least I'll know one of you is safe.”

Dallas heard the weariness in his voice and knew if she pushed the issue and went to the hospital anyway, it would be at his expense, so she finally agreed.

“I'll stay home. Just know how much I love you,” she said.

“I love you, too,” Trey said. “I'll talk to you later.”

He disconnected and then settled back in his chair. Lee was dozing sitting up. They didn't have anything much to say to each other and even less to the people who stared at them as they passed the waiting room.

Five hours after Trina went into surgery, the surgeon came into the waiting room looking for her family.

Trey stood abruptly, while Lee eased up from the sofa where he'd been sitting. They were both afraid to hear the verdict.

“Are you here for Trina Jakes?” the doctor asked.

“Yes,” they said in unison.

“I'm Dr. Lowell. I operated on her. She came through the surgery and is in ICU.”

Lee dropped back onto the sofa and started to cry. Just the news that she was still alive was what he'd been praying for.

Trey wanted details and got them as the doctor continued.

“Her condition is critical. The bullet missed her heart by centimeters, shattered a couple of ribs and punctured a lung. It took a while to remove all the bone fragments. I pulled a couple out of one kidney and one from her liver. The bullet also nicked part of her spine on exit, but the spinal cord is intact. She lost a lot of blood, and for the time being I've put her into a drug-induced coma.”

“Dear Lord,” Trey muttered, and then the cop part of him kicked in. “Did she regain consciousness at any time before she was moved to ICU?”

“No, and as serious as her injuries were, that was to be expected.”

“When can I see her?” Lee asked.

“Check the visiting times in ICU, and discourage anyone but immediate family,” Dr. Lowell said.

Trey had his own comment to make.

“Just so you know, I need a no-visitor hold put on her chart, and there will be a guard stationed outside her room. She's the only living witness to the latest of three murders, and the killer isn't going to want her to wake up.”

Dr. Lowell grimaced. “Yes, so I was told. I'll make sure that's taken care of.”

“On behalf of our family, we thank you,” Trey said.

Lee pulled himself together to add his thanks. “Yes, Dr. Lowell. Thank you for saving her.”

Lowell nodded. “It wasn't all me. I had a good team with me in the OR. I'll be checking on her on a regular basis, so I'm sure we'll speak again,” he said, and left the waiting room.

Now that Trey knew what he had to work with, he moved into action.

“I need to make some calls and get a guard rotation set up here.”

“I'm going to find ICU,” Lee said. “I'll text you the visiting times.”

Trey nodded. “I'm not leaving the area. I just need a little privacy to make those calls.”

Lee went one way and Trey the other as they left the waiting room. Trey sent a text to Dallas on the way down in the elevator, then waited to call Sam until he was in a more private place. He was on his way out to his cruiser when he realized the predicted rain was imminent.

Thunder rolled as he made a run for the car, followed by a shaft of lightning that momentarily lit up the sky a few miles away.

He unlocked the car and slid into the seat. The silence was brief. There was traffic on the police radio, but from what he could hear, Dwight Thomas, their night dispatcher, had everything in hand.

He thought about Sam, and then shifted focus to the need for security on Trina. He didn't have enough officers in Mystic to keep someone on guard day and night. He was trying to remember the security service Mack Jackson had used a few months ago for his fiancée, Lissa, when she was being stalked by the janitor where she worked, and looked to see if he still had Mack's number in his contacts. He did, so he hit the call button, and then wiped a shaky hand across his face as he listened to Mack's phone ring.

Three

T
rey's heart was so heavy he could hardly breathe, and yet he had to stay focused. When Mack picked up on the third ring, Trey braced himself to say what had to be said.

“Hello.”

Trey cleared his throat. “Mack, this is Trey. I know it's late. I hope I didn't call at a bad time.”

“No, not at all,” Mack said.

“I was wondering if you could give me a contact number for the security guard you used for Lissa.”

“Sure, his name is Cain Embry. I don't have it on me, but I'll find it and text it to you in a few minutes, okay?”

“Yes, I would appreciate it.”

“Is something going on? Something related to the murders?” Mack asked.

“Yes,” Trey said, and then his voice broke. He had to clear his throat again and start over to get it all said. “Yes, something happened. Mom is dead, and Trina just came out of surgery. We still don't know if she'll make it or not. They were shot on their way home from the memorial service.”

Trey heard a gasp and then a groan, followed by a couple of anxious whispers, and guessed Mack was telling Lissa.

“Dear Lord! I don't know what to say except that I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,” Mack said.

Trey stared out across the parking lot.

“Yeah, me, too,” he said. “I keep thinking about that little speech I made at the church, wondering if I pushed the killer into it.”

The shock of what Mack was feeling echoed in his voice.

“Hell no, you didn't push the bastard into anything. For one thing, he already killed twice before. Without a clue as to why this was happening, you've been helpless to stop anything. I'm finally coming to accept that they were all doomed from the start. Did Trina say anything? Do you have a lead?”

“No, she was unconscious when I found her. That's why I need the guards. If she pulls through, she might be able to finger the killer. I can only imagine how freaked out he must be, knowing she's still breathing.”

“Is there anything I can do? Do you need help—”

“You're helping by getting me the number. I'll be watching for the text. I've got to call Sam. He's on his way home. He doesn't know Trina made it through surgery yet.”

“Believe me, Trey, I know everything you're going through right now. Just know Lissa and I will keep you in our prayers.”

“I know you do, and thanks,” Trey said and disconnected. While he was waiting for Mack's text, he called Dallas to let her know Trina had made it through surgery, then made the same call to Sam.

* * *

Sam's eyes were burning, and his shoulders ached. He'd been driving in rain for over an hour, which was making it twice as difficult to see the highway. When his cell phone finally rang he almost jumped out of his skin. Then he saw it was from Trey and put it on speaker so he could keep both hands on the wheel.

“Please give me some good news.”

“Trina made it through the surgery. She's in ICU. I'll give you details when you get here. Right now I'm waiting on a phone number so I can get twenty-four-hour security on her.”

“Thank the Lord,” Sam muttered. “I can help with security when I get there,” he added.

“I know, but I'm selfish enough to want you with me. I have a couple of ideas as to where to take the investigation but I'm waiting on you to get here to implement them. Where are you?” Trey asked.

Sam sighed.

“Somewhere in Tennessee. I'm north of Knoxville, and that's all I know for sure. It's raining pretty hard right now. Difficult to see road signs.”

Trey frowned. “Be careful. Stop and sleep over somewhere if you need to.”

“Yeah, I watched one young man die tonight. I don't want to be next.”

“What? Are you okay?” Trey asked.

“Yes. It was a wreck. I saw it, but I wasn't in it.”

“I'm sorry, Sam.”

“Yeah, so am I, for a whole lot of reasons. I'll see you sometime tomorrow. That's all I know for sure. Keep me posted on any change in her condition.”

“I will. Be safe. Oh...hey, I just got a text. It'll be the info I've been waiting on. I'll talk to you later,” Trey said and hung up.

Sam heard the click in his ear and disconnected, too, thinking to himself how his little brother had grown up while he wasn't looking.

He drove for a few moments more, peering past the frantic swiping of the windshield wipers while the relief of knowing his sister was still alive sank in.

“Thank You, God. Now please help me get home.”

* * *

The killer couldn't rest. He needed to know if Trina Jakes was still breathing, but he didn't want anyone else to know he was calling. He got out of bed, moving quietly through the house to his study as he called the hospital, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, as the phone began to ring.

“Webster Memorial Hospital.”

“I'm calling to check on Trina Jakes' condition.”

There was a pause, and then the operator said, “She's in ICU. I'll ring the nurses' desk.”

“Thank you,” he said, and waited.

“ICU.”

“Hello. I'm checking on the condition of Trina Jakes and the visiting times.”

“She's in critical condition and can't have visitors.”

“But we go to church with her and we wanted to—”

“No visitors. I'm sorry.”

He disconnected with a measure of relief. For now she wasn't talking, but, damn it, she was still alive. He'd come so close to a perfect sweep, and now this. His first thought was to pack and run, and then it hit him.

“What the hell's wrong with me?” he muttered. “Even if she never wakes up, even if she dies, they'll still be looking for a killer, and I'll be the one who left town right after the shootings.”

Right now he had to deal with more immediate issues, so he began to run through scenarios as to how to rectify this mess. He needed to make sure she never woke up, but how to get to her? He would bet his life there were guards on her around the clock. Trey Jakes wasn't a fool. His sister was his star witness—if she lived.

But even if he couldn't get to Trina's room, he could still get to the hospital. It could catch fire. It could blow up. There were all kinds of things that could happen in such a volatile environment. The fact that many more lives would be lost was of no consequence. They would be nothing but collateral damage.

* * *

It was beginning to rain as Trey left the parking lot and headed back into the hospital. Lee's text stated ICU visiting hours were from 10:00 a.m. to noon, from 2:00 p.m. to 4:00, and from 6:00 p.m. to 8:00. Tough. Even though it was midnight, he wanted to see his sister's face.

He took the elevator up to the third floor and was on his way to the ICU waiting room when Lee stepped out into the hall.

“I was just coming to look for you,” Lee said.

“Why? Did something happen? Is she worse?”

“No, but we aren't going to get to see her until tomorrow.”

“No, we're going to see her now, even if I have to throw my weight around to do it,” Trey said.

Lee shoved a shaky hand through his hair. There was something he needed to say to Trey before this day got any older.

“Wait a second, okay? Before we go in, I need to apologize to you.”

Trey frowned. “Why?”

“For being such an ass...for hurting Trina like I did. It all had to do with shit from my childhood, but that's no excuse, because I'm no longer a child. I apologized to her at the memorial service. We were going to meet tomorrow and talk.” Lee's voice was starting to shake. “When I think of how close she came to not having a tomorrow, it makes me sick. I love her, Trey. So much. I'm with her for the long haul and, if she'll have me, for the rest of our lives.”

Trey had new respect for Lee. Those words couldn't have been easy to get said.

“I appreciate your honesty, man. Now let's go see our girl. She might not know we're there, but I need to know she's still breathing.”

Lee managed a brief smile and walked with Trey to ICU. It was two minutes after midnight when they entered. Lights were on, and nurses were moving in and out of the patients' rooms. Trey paused at the front desk.

“Which room is Trina Jakes in?” he asked.

Clarice Powell, the RN on duty, was about to send the man packing when she looked up.

“Oh, hello, Chief. You know this is past visiting hours.”

“Yes, ma'am, I do.”

She was sympathetic to all his family had been through, and wasn't about to push the issue.

“Your sister is in 12B.”

“Thank you, Clarice, and to give you a heads-up, she's going to have to have guards around the clock and a no-visitors sign on her door. No one except for immediate family. I'll give you a list of names.”

“Dr. Lowell told us. We'll take care of her, and we're very sorry for your loss. Your mother was a good friend to everyone who knew her,” she said.

“Thank you, Clarice. Oh...just so you know, this is Lee Daniels. He's Trina's significant other, so he'll be in and out as much as the rest of us, okay?”

Clarice eyed Lee closely. “I know you from somewhere.”

“I work for Peterson Heat and Air.”

“Right! You worked on my central air last May.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Lee said. “You said 12B?”

“That way,” she said, as she pointed to her left.

They started down the aisle, trying not to stare at the patients inside the glass-walled cubicles. The beeping of so many heart monitors accompanied them down the hall. Between the steady stream of nurses moving in and out of rooms and the occasional groan or cry for help from someone sick or dying, it was a depressing place to be.

The last time Trey had been in a place with this many seriously ill patients was the VA hospital right after they'd flown Sam stateside. He wondered about the PTSD that had haunted Sam for so long and if this place would trigger a flashback. He'd witnessed a couple of them during the first year Sam was home, and they'd given him pause. They'd also helped him understand why Sam had chosen to stay away. At that time in his life, he could easily have hurt someone he loved.

But while Trey was lost in thought, Lee was looking for the woman he loved.

“There!” Lee said, and lengthened his stride as he darted into the next bay.

Then he stopped just inside the doorway, too stunned to go farther, as Trey hurried past him. Trina was as pale as the sheet on which she was lying, and hooked up to a half-dozen machines. He didn't know which ones were keeping her alive and which ones were monitoring her vital signs. The room looked like a lab scene from a bad movie. He couldn't think. He forgot to breathe.

Trey, on the other hand, had seen her covered in blood and been sure she was dead. The fact that he could hear her heartbeat made all of this reassuring.

The nurse who had just finished checking Trina's vitals and was adjusting the drip on the IV heard footsteps behind her. She turned and quickly recognized Trey.

“Hello, Chief. Really sorry about your mother.”

“Hi, Annie. We're all sorry about Mom. Our gift is that Trina is still alive. How's she doing?” he asked.

“Holding her own,” she said.

Lee took a breath and moved closer. Those were the words he needed to hear.

“Annie, this is Lee Daniels. Lee, Annie Dixon. Annie and I grew up together.”

“Nice to meet you, ma'am,” Lee said.

“Not ma'am, just Annie,” the nurse said. “I'm going to get her another blanket. I'll be right back.”

Trey moved to one side of the bed while Lee went to the other. Trey reached toward Trina and rubbed the back of his finger against her cheek.

“Hey, Trina. It's me, Trey. Just want you to know that you're safe. You're in ICU. Sam is on his way home. We love you. Just rest and get well.”

Lee was struggling for words and fighting back tears as he slid his hand beneath hers so that he could hold it.

“Hi, baby. It's Lee. I just want you to know I love you. Like Trey said, just sleep and heal.”

The stillness of her body was frightening. Even though they both knew she was in a drug-induced coma, she looked as close to dead as a person could and still be breathing.

Trey and Lee kept talking to her, but when Annie Dixon came back with the blanket, she ran them out.

“Sorry, guys. Visiting time is over.”

“Bye for now, sis. I'll be back,” Trey said as he patted Trina's shoulder, and then walked away.

Lee leaned over the bed rail and kissed her forehead.

“Love you, baby,” he said softly, and then caught up with Trey, who was writing down the names of the people who were allowed to visit for Clarice.

“Under no circumstance is anyone else to see her. Not even a preacher, okay?”

The nurse's eyes widened. “Surely you don't suspect—”

“Right now I suspect everyone,” Trey muttered and pushed the doors wide as he exited.

Lee caught them and slipped out before they shut. “There's no one on guard yet,” he said.

Trey stopped short, his shoulders slumping. He should have noticed that, but he was so tired and so stressed he was losing focus. “You're right.”

“I can do it,” Lee said.

“A security team is on the way. They'll be here within a couple of hours.”

“Then, let me do it until they show. Please, Trey. I need to do this for her.”

Trey went back into ICU with Lee beside him.

“Clarice, I have a security team on the way, but until they get here, I'm assigning Lee Daniels to the job. He'll sit in a chair just outside her room without bothering her or any of your medical staff in any way. His job will be to follow anyone who goes into her room and observe everything they do until they leave, understand?”

“Yes. Come with me, Mr. Daniels.”