Chapter 38
“The bullet was a clean in and out.”
Dale was jolted awake by a soft hand shaking his shoulder. He had fallen asleep in an awkward position, scrunched up, legs hanging over the arm of an open-armed, fully upholstered hospital chair bolted to the floor. A nurse stood over him, holding a clipboard to sign. The Las Vegas cops were picking up Watters’ medical expenses —somehow. There would have to be some accounting magic for that one.
“No problems?”
“Nope.”
Dale got up and wiped sleep from his eyes. He took the pen and signed on the dotted line.
“Is he awake?”
“Room 314.”
He headed down the hall. He paused outside room 314 and stretched, his back muscles were in a tight ball. He opened his cell phone.
“Jimmy, Watters is awake.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“Not yet, I’m just going in now.”
“I’ve been thinking about this all night. Do you think we did the right thing?”
“I don’t know. I understood Watters’ logic. He got us Baxter. We would have caught him sooner or later, but Watters took a lot of chances, even if he had his own interests in mind.”
“Okay. But he’s still a leg breaker too, somebody who has got to enjoy that work. Don’t forget that,” said Jimmy.
“Where are you now?”
“I’m just leaving the house. Tina cooked me Sunday breakfast.”
“I’ll meet you back at the office.”
“What about Rachel?”
“Tell her Watters is okay. But I think we should keep her where she is. There’s no telling what the pushback might be now that we have Baxter in custody. Whoever hired him could counterattack. She’s safe where she is.”
Dale hung up.
He stood outside and looked through the small glass-paned section of the door at Watters lying in the hospital bed. He saw the face of a hero and was all the more grateful that Watters had survived. He hoped that Watters could see some of Dale’s admiration, because saying directly what he thought and felt would only embarrass the man.
He knew, from what Watters had told him, that he was an expert marksman, but he also knew that Watters had never shot at anything but paper targets.
In case someone was looking for Baxter, Dale used false names and told the medical staff at the ER to keep Watters’ and Baxter’s admissions quiet.
After a light rap on the door, he stepped inside. The fetid smell of sanitizer and unwashed bed sheets greeted Dale. Watters’ head had been propped up on two pillows, but his eyes weren’t all the way open.
“Detective Dayton, I recognize you from the Vegas website.”
“Calvin Watters.” Dale smiled. “The man with the plan.”
They shook hands.
“How long have I been out?”
“Just the night.” Dale pulled a chair close to the bed. “How do you feel?”
“Like I got hit by a bus. How’s Rachel?”
“She’s in a safe house, like we agreed. When you feel up to it, I’ll bring her in, but I don’t think the timing is right, yet.”
Watters nodded.
“You scared the hell out of us, Calvin. When we heard the gunshots, we took off in a sprint. I’m glad you had given us the layout of the workshop so I knew where to find the generator, but when you weren’t in the computer room, I thought the worst. When we found you upstairs, it looked like World War III. We were lucky Baxter didn’t die, even with the tourniquet I put on. Thank God we had the paramedics on standby.”
“Thanks for staying by my side. You weren’t the only one scared.”
“You’re in better shape than Baxter.”
“How is he?”
“He’s alive. I don’t suppose there’s too much work for a one-legged assassin.”
Watters grimaced. “Sorry, I wanted him in better shape to stand trial.”
“Don’t be sorry. You did what you had to do.” After a few minutes of awkward silence, he asked. “So why’d you do it? Why’d you leave the computer room? That wasn’t part of the plan.”
Watters tried to sit up. Dale helped him into a partial seated position.
“I had to have him. I had to win. That’s the truth.”
“So how did you do that?”
Watters smiled. “I know it’s corny. But I tackled that motherfucker like I was back playing ball.”
“You really pulled my ass out of the fire, Calvin.”
Watters’ smile broadened. “No offense, but you know I did it to save myself too. I had to save Rachel and get information about the murders.”
A nurse entered. They were going to prep Watters for tests on any hidden damage.
When Watters was done, Dale returned to the room where the doctor was addressing the patient. “I’ve seen worse—a slight concussion, a couple of head wounds, a cut above your right eye and on your left cheekbone. Your eye will swell up some. We didn’t stitch up the bullet wound for fear of infection. The bullet had a clean exit. We’ll change the bandages every couple of hours to make sure it’s clean and dry. Your shoulder will require some therapy, but you should regain a hundred percent mobility. The nurse will be in with your painkillers.”
As if on cue, the door opened and a short, pretty nurse walked in holding a tiny white envelope.
She slipped in between the bed and doctor, shook out three pills and set them on the bedside table. “This is Naproxen, 375mg per pill. Take one every 4-6 hours and don’t take more than five a day.”
Watters snorted and smiled at the doctor. “Doc, you’re gonna have to do better than that. I’ve been on a steady dose of painkillers for the last three years, from Tylenol to morphine. With all my new injuries and my tolerance for medication over the years, I’m gonna need some serious stuff.”
The doctor pulled Dale to the side and whispered. “Is this patient narcotic dependant? Should I be concerned that Mr. Watters will go into narcotic withdrawal after a gunshot? Because that will greatly influence my prescription.”
Dale nodded.
“I’ll prescribe something stronger.” The surgeon smirked and left the room.
The nurse took a couple of quick tests and said, “I’ll be back with your new medication.”
When the door closed, Dale went over to the bed and grinned. “You keep talking like that and they’ll drug you up like a racehorse.” He handed Watters a cup of water and asked, “So how did you know Baxter would use the back entrance?”
Watters took a drink and smiled. “I made the lock difficult to break, so Baxter would think that everything was real, but I didn’t make it impenetrable like the other entrances. That was the only door Baxter
“You have a minute, Dayton?”
Dale turned to see his Sergeant. The sergeant shook Watters’ hand.
“What do we know about Baxter?” Watters asked.
“Last night was busy. We haven’t grilled him yet,” Dale said.
The sergeant grabbed Dale by the sleeve. “Can I have a word with you, Dayton?” he asked and pulled him into the hallway.
The sergeant was talking before the door had even closed behind them. “You almost fucked this one up and
