Deception (Southern Comfort) (20 page)

Sam was about to protest, but Donnie’s doctor showed up just then, and after he assured Sam he’d come find her later he also asked her to leave.  So with one last frown at the orderly who still had his beefy hands all over Donnie, she excused herself from the room and decided to hit the vending area.  If this took as much time as it had two nights ago she could be here for a little while.

She was bending over, scooping out the granola bar her conscience made her settle for instead of the Raisinets she’d wanted, when she felt someone behind her.  Whirling, she flung herself back against the glass before she realized it was Justin.

“Easy.”  He held out both hands in a
whoa there
manner.  “I don’t even like granola.”

“What?”  She looked at him and then glanced at her chest, where she was clutching the bar like it was gold.  “God.”  She blew out a breath.  “I’m sorry.  Guess I’m a little jumpy.”

One masculine eyebrow arched upward, the facial equivalent of ya think?  “I heard what happened at your apartment.  Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine.”  She waved the granola.  “A little shaken, but okay.”  She guessed he’d been talking to Josh but then he corrected that assumption. 

“I had a couple drinks with Kathleen Murphy last night.  She told me you’d moved in with Josh.”

Who?  And why the hell was this any of her business?

“Sorry.”  Justin grinned, obviously recognizing her confusion.  Either that or she’d been thinking out loud again, which was becoming quite a problem.  “Kathleen is Rogan and Declan’s sister, and she also works with Josh.  And while it may not be any of her business, I should warn you that won’t stop her.  It’s either inherent nosiness or something to do with being a detective.  Of course, she probably became a detective in the first place because she was inherently nosy.  It’s like the chicken and the egg.”

Sam blinked, realizing she had indeed been thinking out loud.  Which concerned her a great deal less than the fact that too many people seemed to know her business.  But she had bigger fish to fry right now.  She gestured toward one of the vinyl-topped tables that occupied one corner of the room.  “You have a minute?” she asked.  “I’ll buy you something that’s not granola.”

“I’ll sit, but you don’t have to bribe me.”

He followed Sam to the table, where she already had a cup of coffee waiting, and folded himself into a chair.  “What’s on your mind?”

Sam tore the edge of the wrapper, the foil crinkling loudly in the shadowed room.  “I know you’re not a neurosurgeon, but there’s something going on with Donnie.  He was… thrashing tonight when I came in.  Almost like he was having a seizure.”  She took a deep breath and blew it out. “He hasn’t experienced anything like that since just after he was injured.  And two nights ago he spoke.  Do you think it means that his brain is, I don’t know, trying to jumpstart itself again?”

Justin looked pained.  “Samantha –”

“Look, I know this isn’t your area of expertise, but I’m asking as a friend, darn it.  Strictly off the record and all that.  Do you think it could be possible?”

“Has Doctor Munoz done any functional neuroimaging recently?”

“He has,” she informed him, breaking off a piece of granola.  “He said that his… whaddayacallit – global cortical metabolism still appears only a little below normal.  That he’s still considered minimally conscious as opposed to vegetative.”  Which was a crucial distinction, as far as viability for continuing treatment.  Otherwise they would try to move him to some kind of storage facility for people who were beyond hope.  And Donnie wasn’t beyond hope.  He just wasn’t.

“So he hasn’t gotten any worse,” Justin summed up.  “And honestly, Sam, that’s probably all I can give you at this point.  I can’t explain the seizure because I don’t have the right information.  You’re just going to have to wait and see what Munoz has to say.”  He wavered when she just looked at him.  “Okay.  You want my opinion, it’s possible that the seizure is indicative of some renewed activity.  But it’s also possible that it means nothing significant at all.  Coma patients can sometimes talk and laugh and cry and walk, but it has nothing to do with being aware of or reacting to their surroundings.  You know that.”

“I do,” she agreed.  She’d heard the “rote” argument many times.  “But it just helps to have someone to talk to.  Karen normally pats me on the head and reassures me when stuff happens and I start to freak out, but she seems to have missed work tonight.”  She gave him a distracted look.  “You haven’t heard anything from her, have you?”   

“No.”  Justin looked blank.  “But there’s a nasty gastro-intestinal virus going around the hospital.  A lot of the staff has been out sick.  Could be she came down with it.”

“Hmm.”  She popped a piece of granola.  “I’ll give her a call and check on her tomorrow.  If she’s down with a stomach bug she might need somebody to walk her dog.”

Justin stretched as he stood.  “I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful, Sam, but I really don’t know what else to tell you.”

“That’s okay.”  She offered up a smile.  “I appreciate you allowing me to bother you.”

“You’re never a bother, Sam. But you have terrible taste in snack foods.”

Sam watched him walk away.  Then took another bite of the tasteless granola and thought hell.  She should have just bought the damn Raisinets.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE
next day Sam didn’t have to be at work until four, so she decided to check in on Karen.  She’d tried to reach the other woman by phone, and had also called the hospital to see if anyone had heard from her. 

They hadn’t. Maybe Karen just had her phone shut off because she was sick and didn’t want to deal, but Sam felt a niggling sense of unease. 

So, since Josh was still AWOL around his condo and her brother was undergoing a battery of tests and being at loose ends tended to give her ants in the pants, she went down to her car – still somewhat baffled by the parking permit now affixed to it, as if it actually belonged there with the new SUVs and expensive imports – and decided to go to the woman’s apartment.  If poor Karen was so sick that she couldn’t even get to the phone, she needed someone to take care of her. 

The day had dawned cool and crisp, the sky cerulean and completely cloudless.  Thin fingers of smoke drifted into the sky from the chimneys of a few rainbow-hued buildings, a reminder that when this city was built people used fire to heat their homes. There was a fireplace in Josh’s condo, though it looked to be a gas job and more for show than any actual purpose. Although if all the planets aligned and life were fair and there was peace on earth and goodwill toward men, she’d have no problem whatsoever taking advantage of him on the rug in front of it.

And all three of those previous things were more likely to happen than that rug seeing any action.

Irritated with herself, Sam found a parking spot and lined her car up with the curb.  Karen’s apartment was a second floor walk-up in a newer building which housed a mix of university students and hospital personnel, and Sam tried to catch Karen by phone one last time as she approached the door. 

The phone rang and rang, and Sam could hear it through the thin walls of the apartment.  She could also hear Karen’s Lhasa Apso barking and scratching at the door.  If Karen was inside, there was no way she could sleep through the noise.

“Karen?” she called, pocketing her cell to knock on the door. 

“Karen?”  Sam tried again, and the barking grew even louder.  Bending low, Sam pressed her ear against the door.  “Snickers,” she cooed.  “What happened to your mama?”

The dog whimpered, and Sam straightened, growing more concerned by the minute.  She glanced around, thought about asking the neighbors if they’d seen Karen recently, but after knocking repeatedly on the doors to either side she determined nobody was home.

Snickers took up barking again, her door-scratching growing frantic, and Sam tried to figure out what to do.  Karen could be passed out from fever or dehydration.  Sam needed the door opened and she needed it opened now.

Sighing, hoping she wasn’t overstepping her bounds, she dug out her cell phone again.  Josh had told her to call him if she needed anything.

HIS
phone rang, but that wasn’t nearly enough to make him stir.  Josh was sleeping the sleep of the dead on the ridiculously uncomfortable sofa in the break room, not even caring that the thing smelled like old gym socks and stale cigarettes.  In fact, the stench sort of reminded him in an only semi-unpleasant way of the sofa bed in Sam’s apartment, which was lending itself to some decidedly not unpleasant dreams.  He’d just gotten her bra off and was beginning to explore the wonders contained therein when someone had the audacity to shake his shoulder.

Couldn’t they see that he was in the middle of something?

Grousing, Josh shook off the inconsiderate hand and turned over, trying desperately to will his subconscious into picking up where it had left off.  But then his phone rang again and he knew it was hopeless.

“Harding,” said a deep voice, threaded with wry amusement.  “You’re drooling all over yourself.  Not to mention the fact that you really wrinkled that nice
shirt.”

That got his attention.  He was wearing his favorite
Burberry. 

“And your phone’s ringing again, buddy.  Whoever’s calling wants to reach you bad.”

Shoving away Chris’s hand, which was now pulling on his bad shoulder, Josh sat up and glared at him before sliding his cell phone out of his pocket.  Kathleen was sitting at the table, drinking coffee and watching him with an amused smile.

“Looks like Osh-Jay is Umpy-gray.”

Josh bared his teeth, and then answered the phone with a snarled “What?”

“Josh?”  Her voice was small.  And because her voice was small and he’d growled at her, he immediately snapped out of his ad-bay mood.  “I’m sorry.  I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

For her?  Never.  “Oh, hey Sam.  You’re fine.”  He cleared his throat and frowned at Chris, who had gone to stand next to Kathleen.  He pulled her out of her chair and put his hand between their mouths, acting like he was kissing her.  Then he mouthed I love you, Samantha, to which Kathleen cracked up, and Josh wondered how the hell he’d ended up with friends this immature.  “I was just dealing with a couple of idiots, so I’m sorry if I snapped.”  He looked pointedly at the idiots in question, who didn’t appear the least chagrinned. 

“Oh.”  Her voice was still small.  “Josh, I have a problem, and I think I might need your help.”

Any sense of levity rushed out in a whoosh.  “What kind of problem? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” she assured him, “but I’m worried about one of my friends.  It’s one of Donnie’s nurses, actually.  She didn’t show up for work last night and I haven’t been able to reach her.  I’m over at her apartment right now, but I can’t get any answer.”

“Okay.”  He ran his hand through his hair as he focused.  An hour of sleep in the past twenty-four had left him slightly less sharp than the usual tack.  “Maybe she got called out of town on an emergency.”

“No.”  Sam sounded certain.  “I should have mentioned that Justin told me there’s a virus going around the hospital.  A lot of people have been out sick.  And Karen’s dog is here – I can hear her inside.  She would never leave her alone in the apartment all this time.”

“Could be she got a neighbor to check on her.” 

“You haven’t met this dog.  She’s more pampered than the Queen of Sheba.  Karen would never just take off and leave her.  I’m worried that she’s passed out or needs help or something, and I can’t get into the apartment to see.”

“Okay.”  Josh knew Sam was a reasonable woman.  If she thought something was wrong with her friend, there was every chance she was right.  He could just ask dispatch to send out a unit, and if he was a reasonable man that’s what he’d do.  The shit was about to hit the fan when he showed the Lieutenant the composite, which he’d finished just before he’d crashed.  But he hadn’t shown it to anyone yet, and after said shit started flying, he had no idea when he’d be able to see Sam.  So he would take an hour or so and help her out with her friend and satisfy himself in the process.  “Give me the address, and I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”

She rattled it off, and Kathleen made herself useful for once and brought Josh a pen and a piece of paper.  Of course that obviously meant she’d been eavesdropping again, but hell, zebras couldn’t change their stripes. 

“Got it,” Josh said as he scratched it off.  “I’ll see you in a few.”

“Thanks Josh.  I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime.”  Anyplace, anywhere.  He snapped the phone shut and looked at his audience.

“Trouble with your girlfriend?” Kathleen asked, while Chris poured himself some coffee.  But there was no more teasing in her tone, and Chris’s grin had disappeared.

“Hopefully not,” Josh said as he stood up.  His shoulder ached like a bad tooth and he thought vaguely of finding some aspirin.  “But when I get back, there’ll be trouble by the barrel-full.”

The mug lowered from Kathleen’s face as she sent a quick glance toward Chris.  “What I think it is?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Shit,” she swore under her breath.