“I know what you're saying.” Marcus folded his arms across his chest. “Still, I took vows with Monet, and I promised to love, cherish, and take care of her. And that's what I'm going to do,” he said, in a chilling tone of voice.
“Turn this matter over to the Lord,” Liz urged, holding her arms out.
“You know that I will, but I plan to still be actively involved in finding out who did this to my wife. Look, Liz, I've got to go; I need to call Monet's brothers. I just hope they haven't seen anything on television and think I'm ignoring them,” he said.
“I can call them while Monet is asleep, and anything else you want me to do,” she said.
“No, I'll call them myself. I just need you to stay with my baby. I'll be back whenever you call me, or within an hour or so.”
The two of them turned toward the sound of a cart being pushed down the hall. The cart was full of flowers, and was being maneuvered by a young, gangling man. He peered carefully at each room number and finally stopped outside of Monet's room.
“Oh, what beautiful flowers,” Liz said, admiring the floral displays. “This will help cheer up Monet.”
“Do you have ID?” Marcus asked the young man, looking him up and down.
The young man looked nervous and held up a badge around his neck. Marcus walked over and looked at the ID. “Okay, Liz, I'm out of here,” he said, satisfied the aide was just delivering flowers.
“Marcus, if you see or talk to Wade, would you tell him that I'm here?” she asked. He nodded. She squeezed his arm and walked inside Monet's room.
Marcus was walking toward the elevator when he spied Dr. Washington. She beckoned for him to come join her at the nurse's station.
“I wanted you to know the STD screenings came back negative, so Monet is fine from that standpoint. We should have the results of the HIV/AIDS tests by the middle of next week,” Dr. Washington stated.
“Thank you, Dr. Washington.” Marcus' lips formed a pained smile. He looked upward, and then back at the physician. “Thank God for that. I know Monet will be relieved when she hears the news.”
“I will be checking on her, and I'll talk to you later, Mr. Caldwell.” Dr. Washington walked to another patient's room.
Marcus headed toward the elevator. He was visibly calmed by Dr. Washington's news. He knew firsthand the results in Monet's case were sometimes not as positive, and his brain couldn't wrap itself around the possibility of a positive HIV test. He literally itched to do anything he could to bring Monet's attacker to justice, along with dispensing his own brand of irate husband revenge. He felt like he could relate to the sayings about an eye for an eye, and people reaping what they sow.
He picked up his stride and pulled out his cell phone to call Wade, hoping desperately that his partner or Smitty had some good news for him. Monet's assailant had made her attack personal, and Marcus didn't intend to take what happened to his wife lightly.
Chapter 4
Marcus closed his cell phone after talking to Smitty, who told him to meet the team in the security area on the first floor. After he stepped out of the elevator on the first floor, he did a double take, shocked at the media fest that was taking place.
A public relations person from the hospital was holding a press conference. Several reporters broke away from the discussion when they saw Marcus and swarmed around him, asking if he had any comments. Marcus said that he didn't, and that he had confidence the police would be able to solve the case soon. He stopped and asked the security guard for directions to the security room.
When Marcus arrived in the room, he found Wade, Smitty, and a couple of other police officers sitting at a table, having a meeting. They greeted him solemnly.
“I'm going around the corner to call Monet's brothers, then I'll come back, and you can tell me what you have,” Marcus informed his brother officers.
The police officers nodded and resumed their conversation. Marcus walked outside the door and took his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and called Monet's brother, Duane. He quickly explained what had happened. Duane told Marcus he would call his brother, Derek, and they would be at the hospital within an hour.
Marcus closed his cell phone and it sounded again. He peered at the caller ID and saw Reverend Ruth Wilcox's name. He quickly opened the phone. “Hello, Reverend Wilcox. How are you doing?” he said.
“I'm blessed, Marcus. Liz called to tell me about Monet. I wanted to know if there is anything I or the church can do to help? And if it would be okay for me to come to the hospital today to see Monet?” the minister asked.
“We're holding up as well as can be expected. I can't think of anything we need right at this moment. And by all means come by. It wouldn't hurt for you to see Monet. She isn't saying much right now, but I guess that's normal,” he said.
“God will heal Monet,” Reverend Wilcox said consolingly. “I will visit her later today. She glanced down at her watch. “It's almost two o'clock in the afternoon now. And if there's anything I can do, please feel free to call me. You are not alone.”
“Thank you, and we'll see you later today.” Marcus closed his phone and returned to the security office. After he sat in a hard blue plastic seat, he looked around table. “So what do you have? Any good leads?” he asked.
Smitty cleared his throat and looked down at a piece of paper in front of him. “Marcus, let me start out by saying the chief doesn't want you involved in the case, and I agree with him. You're too close to the vic, sorry, I mean Monet. We'll keep you abreast of all the information we collect, but we ask that you let us do our jobs.”
Marcus's chin jutted up aggressively. He wanted to argue, but knew that in the long run it wouldn't do him any good. He reluctantly nodded his head. “Okay, I can do that.” Though his lips said those words, he knew that he would be doing some investigating of his own. “What do you know so far?”
“The hospital created a rape kit. We're hoping there's a sample of the perp's DNA. We've sent the sample to the lab, and they're running a match as we speak. So maybe we'll get lucky there,” Smitty reported.
“I checked the scene, and the perp made off with Monet's car, and her purse is also gone. So we have an APB out describing the car, and hopefully we'll hear something from that soon. The canine squad has scoured the area, and we found cigarette butts near the bushes where the attack took place. So all in all, I would say things look promising,” Wade added, then he closed his case book.
“What about people in the neighborhood? Has anyone canvassed door-to-door?” Marcus asked, shifting in his seat because he felt antsy.
“On it,” Smitty said. “We know the drill. So far no one has reported seeing and/or hearing anything. But we'll continue checking people within a twenty mile radius of the hospital. I'm encouraged by the DNA evidence because that means we can nail him once we get a match.”
“That's assuming we get a match,” Marcus interjected. “We don't in all cases.”
“We're going to remain positive until we hear otherwise,” Smitty informed Marcus. “I know you're eager for us to catch this guy, and we're with you on that, buddy. But let us do our job,” he urged, knowing that his request was futile.
“That's it?” Marcus asked, strumming his fingers on the table top, as if he thought the squad should be doing more.
“We still need to talk to Monet to see if she saw anything or got a good look at the perp's face,” Smitty added, in a hushed tone of voice. “How soon do you think she'll be up to it?”
“My wife was beaten pretty badly,” Marcus said, looking down at the table. “If you can hold off until tomorrow before you question her, I would appreciate it.” He looked back up. “Did Wade tell you that the attacker has Monet's cell phone too? Has anyone tried calling her number?” he asked.
“I did,” Wade nodded, “but the phone just rang. I have a court order pending to get Monet's phone records released.” He pushed his silver wire-framed glasses up on his nose. “We have an appointment with your cell phone provider to see if they'll cooperate with us without the order. If Sprint is amenable, maybe we can track down where Monet's phone is now.”
“It sounds like you all have your bases covered,” Marcus admitted.
“Just to set your mind at ease, I'll question Monet myself,” Wade told his partner. “I think it will help her if someone she knows and is sensitive to the situation talks to her.”
“Good idea,” Marcus said grudgingly.
“So that's where we are. If we get any new leads, we'll see where they take us,” Smitty summarized. “The hospital is going to offer a reward for information leading to the perpetrator's arrest. That's why they're holding a press conference. So that should help. They aren't going to mention the sexual assault, just the attack. Now, why don't you go upstairs and be a supportive husband to your wife?”
Wade looked at Marcus and nodded approvingly at Smitty's suggestion.
“First I'm going to run home to shower and change, and bring Monet some clothes,” Marcus said as he stood up. “I'll check with you later. I assume you're going to run the investigation from this room?”
“Yeah, we'll be here. But keep in mind what I said about your involvement in the investigation,” Smitty warned Marcus, pointing at him with an outstretched finger.
“I heard you, man. I'll see you later.” Marcus departed from the room. When he arrived at the entrance he saw his brothers-in-law, Duane and Derek, entering the hospital.
“How is Monet?” they asked breathlessly at the same time, after exchanging greetings with Marcus.
“She's pretty banged up, and emotionally, she's a wreck as you would expect her to be under the circumstances. The doctor said she'll heal, but that will take time,” Marcus said.
Derek, who was a no-nonsense blustery type, asked Marcus point blank, “Have they found the pervert who did this to my sister?” His face showed how upset he was by the situation.
“We're working on it. There are some promising leads, which the guys are looking into,” he replied. “I have to warn you, the media is here. For the sake of the investigation, if they ask you any questions, just reply no comment,” Marcus instructed.
“I disagree,” Duane interjected. Marcus was surprised. Of the two brothers, Duane was the passive one, usually content to go with the flow.
“Why do you say that?” Marcus turned and peered curiously at Duane.
“I think you or someone in the family should make an appeal to the people of Chicago and ask for anyone who has any information to step forward. You could even offer a reward. Why don't you talk to the Fraternal Order of Police about it?” Duane suggested. He worked as a network analyst at Kennedy King College, which wasn't located too far from the hospital. He and Monet often had lunch together. Derek worked as a manager for a clothing store.
Marcus rubbed the stubble on his chin. “The hospital is offering a reward. I'll have Wade talk to the union and see if we can up the ante,” he said.
“You need to stop thinking like a policeman and think like a husband!” Duane shouted. “How do we know the person who did this to my sister wasn't some crazy that you helped put away?”
Marcus felt like he'd taken a hit to the gut. That same thought had been haunting him all morning. “Don't you think I've thought of that myself?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “It's tearing me apart to see Monet lying in the hospital bed beaten and battered. I'm doing the best I can to help the police and be there for my wife. Try to keep those types of comments to a minimum, please.” There was a hint of a tremble in Marcus's voice.
Duane realized his brother-in-law was holding on to his emotions by a tenacious thread. He walked over to Marcus and patted his arm. “I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean to come off sounding so harsh. You're Monet's husband and a police officer, and I know that you'll do anything to find who did this terrible thing to our sister and bring him to justice,” he said apologetically.
The brothers were identical twins. They shared the same light complexion as their sister and had hazel colored eyes, courtesy of their father, who was of Creole lineage from New Orleans. They were average in height, five feet ten inches, and that's where the resemblance ended. Derek was muscular in build, with heavy facial hair covering his face, and he favored hip hop clothing. Derek was slim like Monet, clean shaven, and was more conservative in dress. Derek wore his curly hair clipped low on the top and sides and slightly longer in the back, while Duane made sure he went to the barbershop every Saturday to keep his waves immaculate. The brothers refused to settle down and marry, much to Monet's consternation. She said the family wasn't procreating, and that her brothers needed to remedy the situation.
Derek nodded at his brother's rant appreciatively. “Who would have thought little brother had it in him? That's usually my role. But we're all family, and we've got to stick together, and make sure big sister comes through this ordeal in one piece. Marc, we got your back, and we'll go by all the decisions you make,” he said.
“I agree,” Duane said quickly. “But if Derek and I have suggestions, I hope you'll at least listen to us.”
“Definitely, and I promise to keep you in the loop about the investigation,” Marcus said. “I'm heading home to shower and change clothes and bring some stuff back to the hospital for Monet. I'll see you later.”
“Duane looked at his brother, and said, “What do you say about us getting some flowers for Monet? You know how she loves plants; maybe that will cheer her up.”
“Good thinking, bro, I second that motion,” Derek replied. “We'll go to a florist, and then come back here. There's one not too far from here. The flowers here at the hospital are too expensive.”
“Monet is probably still asleep anyway. By the time you get back, she should be awake,” Marcus said.
The three men left the hospital together, each equally concerned about their loved one on the fifth floor.
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Upstairs in Monet's room, Liz continued to sit vigil in a chair next to her bed, reading the Daily Word pamphlet. She read the entry for the day and the scripture accompanying the message in her Bible, which she always kept in her oversized tote bag. Liz looked up when she heard Monet stirring.
“Hey sister, how are you feeling?” Liz asked.
Monet's eyes filled with tears. “I hurt all over, and I know I look like I was hit by a truck. Liz, I've never been more afraid in my life.”
Liz quickly stood up and sat on the bed. “Will it hurt if I give you a hug?” she asked Monet, patting her arm.
“Probably. Just be gentle,” Monet murmured as Liz changed her mind and patted Monet's hand.
“Go ahead and cry and get it out of your system. Monet, do you realize how blessed you are?” Liz asked.
“I don't know what you mean?” Monet's eyes widened and she looked at Liz like her friend was crazy. “I was beaten up and sexually assaulted. How could you consider that as being blessed?” She leaned back in the bed.
“Because you weren't killed, nor were any of your bones broken. All your injuries are temporary ones that will heal. I know what happened was horrendous, and it proves how many sick people are out there roaming the streets. But God had your back, Monet. And for that you have to be grateful.”
“I am,” Monet said in a teeny voice. “I really am. Before I blacked out, I remember reciting the Twenty-Third Psalm, and I prayed the Lord would see me through the attack. But every time I close my eyes, I see and feel him on me. I feel so dirty.”
Liz rubbed Monet's arm. “Trust me, it wasn't your fault. Don't try to put that guilt on yourself.”