Authors: Teri Riggs
The doctors allowed him a few minutes with Kennedy before taking her to surgery. His hands shook as he reached out to touch her, the need to connect with her overwhelming. He ran the back of his hand down her face.
Kennedy was unconscious, but breathing on her own. She was so still, he had to watch her chest rise and fall to make sure she was alive.
“Open your eyes for me, sweetheart.” He needed to look deep into her beautiful eyes, needed to know she was still with him. Nick couldn’t get her to wake up and a rare feeling of helplessness settled like a fist in his gut.
He took her hand in one of his, gently stroked it with the other. “Take care, Irish. I’ll be waiting for you.”
He brushed her hair back and kissed her lightly on her forehead.
One
of the nurses showed him to a private waiting room reserved for family members of seriously ill patients. Dreading the call he needed to make to a man he didn’t know, he pulled his Blackberry out and made another call
fir
st
.
Satisfied, he called information. The operator connected him.
“Mr. O’Brien, my name is Nick Campenelli. I believe we’ve seen each other around the Rec Center.”
“We have. I’ve seen the way you handle the youngsters and admire your dedication.”
“Thank you, sir. Detective James asked me to call and let you know Kennedy will be just fine. She was—”
“Oh God, what’s happened to my lass?”
“I’m sorry, sir, she was injured tonight in the line of duty.” Injured in the line of duty? It sounded like a bad line in a cop show.
“Is she dead? Please be straight with me.”
“Your granddaughter is not dead. She’s in surgery right now and is holding her own.”
“Was she shot?”
“No, I’m afraid she was attacked with a knife. I’ve taken the liberty of sending a car to pick up you up and bring you to the hospital. I just got off the phone with the car service and they should arrive shortly.”
“Thank you Mr. Campenelli. I’ll be ready. Are you sure she’s doing okay?”
“I’m sure. She’s got the finest surgeon on staff and I’ll see to it she has the best possible care. You take care of yourself for now. Kennedy will need you when she’s out of surgery.”
“The lass doesn’t think she needs anyone’s help.” Nick grunted. “I’ve noticed. See you soon.”
He closed the phone as a nurse looked in the waiting room door.
His body broke out in a cold sweat as he stood, bracing himself for bad news. He fought back the panic that threatened to stifle his voice. “Yes? Is it Detective O’Brien?”
“No, Mr. Campenelli. The policeman guarding your other friend has said if you’d like, you can see Mr. Tully before they take him to surgery.”
Nick felt his face go to stone, his hands balled into tight fists. “He’s not my friend.”
“I’m sorry. I must have misunderstood what the officer said.” She couldn’t look him in the eye.
“Mr. Tully is my employee.” No way would he call John a friend until he knew exactly what had happened in that abandoned building. “I think I would like to spend a moment with him after all.”
The nurse looked up at him, her smile firmly in place. “Come this way please.” Nick followed her into a cubicle similar to Kennedy’s.
John’s skin was a pasty, pale gray color. His chest rose and fell with each swish of the respirator breathing for him. Nick stood next to the gurney and studied John, not even sure he cared what happened to the man he’d known and trusted for ten years.
Pain and anger clouded his thoughts and suddenly all he wanted to do was get the hell out of there. He leaned over and spoke in a soft whisper. “If you’re the one who hurt her, my friend, you’ll answer to me.”
Thirty-Five
minutes from the time Nick called, Tommy O’Brien arrived, went straight to Nick and clasped his hand in a firm handshake. “Tell me how my granddaughter is, Mr. Campenelli.”
Nick looked him in the eye. “She’s going to be fine, sir. I won’t accept any other outcome. She’ll be up and around in no time.” He ran a hand over his face. “Up and driving me crazy with those big violet eyes of hers.”
“Yes, she has eyes the color of Ireland’s heather, the same eyes her grandmother had.” He tilted his head, looked Nick over. “And I can see she’s already done a number on you, hasn’t she, son?”
“You’re a smart man, Mr. O’Brien. I’m afraid she has.”
“I don’t envy you. She has a hot Irish temper to go with those Irish eyes of hers. No doubt you’ve already figured that out.”
“I have, indeed. She’s the most determined, driven woman I’ve ever known.”
“The lassie does have a need to be the best.” Tommy laid a hand on his shoulder and confided in him. “I think her childhood tragedies, especially losing her mother, fuels the need.”
“I thought Kennedy was only four or five when her mother killed herself.”
The man dropped his hand from Nick’s shoulder and stepped back, eyes wide.
“She’s told you a bit about her life, has she? I’m surprised. She doesn’t usually share her feelings or her past.”
“I caught her at a weak moment, I’m sure.” He grinned, his mood lighter. “She was just a wee lass when Mae took her own life.”
“That’s a shame.”
“That it is. Behind all the rough edges, there’s a fragile soul.” Tommy smiled, amusement twinkled in his eyes. “Though, she has a wicked sense of humor that peeks out from time to time.”
“I’ve been lucky enough to catch a few glimpses of that side of her too.” He loved that side of the detective, the woman who joked and laughed whenever she seemed to relax a little. And if she had an inkling her grandfather was telling him all this, she’d be pissed as hell.
Another thirty minutes passed before Wilder arrived. He went straight to Tommy O’Brien and gave him a quick hug.
“How’s she doing?”
Tommy shook his head. “Sorry, Wild Thing, no word yet.” He looked down at his watch.” She’s been in surgery over an hour. Mr. Campenelli got to see her just before they took her away.”
Wilder looked to Nick.
Nick shook his head. “She didn’t wake up at all. Not on the way here or in the trauma room.”
Wilder closed his eyes and lowered his head, whispering something to himself.
“I see that look, Wilder James,” Tommy said. “And I won’t have it. You’re not to be blaming yourself for this, you hear me?”
Wilder shook his head.
“Kennedy is a big girl, knew the risks of becoming a cop and wanted the job anyway. You taught her well. You did your job and she’s a damn good cop because of it. If there was any way this could have been prevented, she would have done it.”
“I know she’s a good cop, Tommy. One of the best.”
“Then, by God, don’t insult her by making this about you. She’ll get through this.”
“Okay.”
So much for Irish tempers and cop’s bad attitudes. Kennedy, Nick realized, was very much like these two men who adored her.
The door swung open and they all looked hopeful until Lieutenant Hazelwood came in. His deep, commanding voice echoed in the small room. “How’s O’Brien doing? Any updates?”
Wilder, probably out of habit, answered his lieutenant before Nick or Tommy could. “Nothing yet. She’s still in surgery.”
Hazelwood nodded. “That’s not necessarily bad news.” He moved to Nick, offered his hand. “Campenelli.”
Nick shook his hand, found the man’s grip firm. “Lieutenant Hazelwood. It’s been a while.”
“Yes it has.” Hazelwood rubbed a finger across his chin. “Let’s see, the last time I saw you was at Sheriff Taylor’s holiday party.”
“That’s right.”
“How’s the campaigning going?”
Pretty well until I found out my campaign manager might be a murdering son of bitch. “It’s a lot of work, but going well.”
“Good to hear.” Hazelwood shook hands with Tommy and nodded at Wilder.
Wilder nodded back. “How’s the officer who shot John Tully?”
“First time he fired his weapon in the line of duty, so he’s little shell-shocked right now, but I believe he’ll be fine. Internal Affairs is already on it. He should be cleared shortly. What I’d li—”
Kennedy’s doctor entered the small waiting room, interrupting the lieutenant mid-sentence.
Nick’s heart beat double time.
The doctor appeared tired and grim. He poured himself a cup of the waiting room coffee as he spoke. “Detective O’Brien did well in surgery. We were able to get the bleeding stopped. The knife missed all the vital organs and she should be fine. Right now she’s in recovery and we’re giving her another unit of blood, hopefully the last she’ll need. We’ll keep her in the ICU overnight and then reevaluate. But it looks good so far. She’s a lucky woman.”
Tommy took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. Nick thought he saw a tear. “Thank the good Lord.”
“When she gets settled in the ICU you can see her, one at a time, for short periods. There must be half of Metro PD out in the halls and main waiting room. Maybe one of you could let them know what’s going on.”
Visible relief spread across Wilder’s and Tommy’s faces, looking every bit as deep as Nick’s felt.
Tommy’s voice cracked. “I’ll see to the boys, Doctor, if you think there’s enough time before she’s moved to ICU.”
“She’ll stay in Recovery for at least an hour, possibly more. You should have plenty of time.”
Wilder dropped into a chair, laid his head back and closed his eyes. Hazelwood moved to the coffee pot and poured a cup, then pulled out his cell phone to make a call.
Nick pulled the doctor aside. “Is there any word on John Tully’s condition, yet?”
“I’m not his doctor, but I can tell you he’s still in surgery. There’s not much else to say at this point in time. His surgeon will be out to talk to you when he’s finished.”
“Thank you.” Nick shook the doctor’s hand. “And thank you so much for all you’ve done for Detective O’Brien.”
“I’m glad I could help. She seems like a special lady. I can always tell by how many people are waiting for word on a patient. The detective has drawn quite a crowd.”
The doctor left and Hazelwood sat down on the sofa.
Wilder lifted his head and turned to his boss. “I want to get to LVTVS and see if the killer sends an AFTER shot.”
“Did he leave his trademark BEFORE picture at the scene?” Hazelwood sipped his coffee.
“Yep, he did. I’ve got it in the pocket of my jacket. I thought I’d hang on to it until I’m finished at LVTVS. I’ll get both photos to the lab afterwards.”
“Okay with me. I’ll keep a couple of officers stationed at the newsroom. I’ve heard there was another man at the scene that hasn’t been ID’d. On the outside chance Tully isn’t the killer, we wouldn’t want to miss the real one. That’s assuming he’s stupid enough to hand deliver another AFTER picture.”
Nick pulled up a chair and joined in the conversation. “What about Detective O’Brien?”
“I’ve already posted a guard outside O’Brien’s room. I’ve put one on Tully too. He’s either our man or a witness to the attack. ” He turned to Wilder. “You have a witness who says he saw a second man leaving the crime scene, correct?”
“Yep, but the guy is a bit on the flakey side.” Wilder’s eyes turned a darker shade and Nick could have sworn the man growled. “Whoever hurt Kennedy is gonna need protection from me, that’s who needs a guard.”
Nick’s gut burned with anger. He knew exactly how Wilder felt.
“You’ll do things by the book, Wild Thing.” Hazelwood looked in Nick’s direction. “I’d say from the look on Mr. Campenelli’s face, the killer is going to need protection from him too.”
Wilder let out a tired laugh. “I think you’ve got that right.” Nick had no doubt.
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
KENNEDY FELT LIKE SHE WAS STUCK HALFWAY IN AND HALFWAY OUT OF THE REAL WORLD
. Was her body working? She could smell. A combination of hospital disinfectant, blood and an array of medicines assaulted her nose. She could taste. The taste in her mouth resembled three-week old moldy bread. Her hearing checked out. Every beep of the heart monitor she was hooked up to delivered a ball peen hammer-like pounding to her head. She could feel, maybe not a plus. A sharp, burning pain on the left side of her back made her wish she could fall back into unconsciousness.
Breathing through the pain, she opened her eyes and saw Nick sitting at her bed side, his eyes closed.
She whispered, “Campenelli? Is that you?”
He instantly woke and scooted his chair closer. “Yes, Irish, it’s me. Your Grandpa just stepped out to grab a coffee in the cafeteria.”
“Wilder?”
“He’s working.”
“Oh. My mouth feels like a giant cotton ball.” She tried to lift a hand, wanting to wipe her lips, and found her fingers tangled in IV tubing.