“I’m at the hospital in Sells, and yes, I’m fine.”
“Are you hurt? Is anyone else hurt?”
“Nobody’s hurt,” Lani answered, “but there’s a slight problem.”
“Don’t tell me! You wrecked your mother’s Buick!”
“It’s not wrecked,” Lani corrected. “But there’s a problem. Delia’s water broke while we were still at Ban Thak. Kath and I tried to get her to the hospital in time, but we didn’t make it. Gabriel Ortiz was born in the backseat. The car will have to be cleaned. It’s a mess.”
“What is it, Brandon?” Diana Ladd asked from behind her husband’s shoulder. “Is it Lani? Is she all right?”
Brandon Walker suddenly felt like laughing out loud. “She’s fine,” he said, handing her the phone. “Perfectly fine, but you may want to talk to her. It sounds like our daughter has been practicing medicine without a license and playing midwife-in the backseat of your Invicta.”
A phalanx of media people were ranged around the entrance of St. Mary’s Hospital when Brian arrived there. He had to shoulder his way through them in order to get inside. When he reached the ICU waiting room, PeeWee Segura was there.
“How’s it look?” Brian asked.
PeeWee shook his head. “Not good. From what I hear, the guy’s brain-dead. They’ll probably end up pulling the plug.”
“Shit!” Brian muttered. “Why wasn’t he on a suicide watch?”
“Not our job, Brian baby. Not our job.”
Brian glanced around the room. There were several different groups of people, each of them huddled in its own private hell of shared misery. “Anybody else here for LaGrange?”
“Nope. When it comes to next of kin, you and I are about it,” PeeWee said.
“What about Gayle Stryker? If Erik and Gayle Stryker were as close as he claimed, why isn’t she here?”
“Funny you should mention her,” PeeWee said. “She was on the news a little while ago.”
“Doing what?” Brian asked.
“Throwing poor old Erik to the wolves, saying how sorry she and Doc Stryker are that their employee could do such a terrible thing, blah, blah, blah, blah.”
“In other words, she’s doing damage control to pull Medicos’ reputation out of the fire.”
“You got it.”
The door at the far end of the waiting room opened. A bull-necked man in a T-shirt, cutoffs, and sandals burst into the room. He spoke briefly to the clerk at the reception desk, who nodded toward Brian and PeeWee. Leaving her, he hurried over to the two detectives.
“My name’s Ryan Doyle,” he said, holding out his hand. “Erik and I have been friends since grade school. Who are you?”
PeeWee and Brian produced their respective IDs. When he realized who they were, Ryan Doyle’s whole body was transformed. His fists knotted. His muscled neck bulged. His face reddened with anger. “Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed furiously. “You must be the ones who arrested him!”
“That’s right,” Brian said mildly. “We are.”
“Well, you’re dead wrong about Erik. Him hurt a little girl? Not ever. He wouldn’t do such a thing, never in a million years. I just heard about it tonight, on the news. We didn’t know anything about it-that he’d been arrested, nothing. Why the hell didn’t he call us? Brianna and I would have tried to help. We would have been there for him.”
Suddenly, all the fight went out of the man. Ryan Doyle slumped heavily onto a nearby couch and buried his face in his hands.
Brian sat down next to him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Doyle. I’m sure all this is a terrible shock to you…”
Ryan raised his head and looked around the room. “And where’s she?” he demanded. “Where’s the bitch?”
“Who?” Brian asked.
“Gayle Stryker,” Ryan muttered bitterly. “Who do you think?”
“You knew about Erik’s relationship with Mrs. Stryker?”
“Relationship? Bullshit! The word relationship implies a two-way street, something that goes in both directions. Gayle was playing with him, using him, leading him along. Bree and I both tried to warn him about her. Bree said when Gayle was done with him, she’d drop him like a hot potato. Erik didn’t believe it. For the longest time-for years, even-he was convinced that someday, somehow, Gayle would leave her husband for him.”
“Was convinced?” Brian put in. “You mean he wasn’t anymore?”
Ryan sighed and shook his head. “I’m not sure. Bree and I just had a baby-a boy. Erik and I talked on the phone. He was congratulating me, saying how lucky I was to have a wife and baby. It’s not that he said anything specific, but I could tell it really got to him. I told him, ‘You know, Erik, you could have this, too,’ and he said, ‘I know. Maybe I will.’ ”
“When was this?” Brian asked. “When did you have this conversation?”
“I don’t know. A couple of weeks ago. Why?”
Brian was thinking about what Erik had told them. He had claimed that he had done nothing, that someone was framing him for murder. Brian had heard similar stories for years from punks complaining they were being framed, but maybe this time it was true.
A doctor entered the waiting room through the swinging doors and made straight for where the three men were sitting. “Has the sheriff’s department had any luck locating next of kin?” he asked.
The question was addressed to PeeWee Segura, and he was the one who answered. “We’re still working on it, but I haven’t heard if we’ve made any progress.”
“Erik doesn’t have any next of kin,” Ryan Doyle interjected. “His mother died when he was a baby. His father walked out and left him to be raised by his grandmother. She’s been dead for years. Why?”
The doctor peered down at Ryan Doyle over the top of a pair of reading glasses. “And you are?”
“My name’s Doyle, Ryan Doyle. Erik and I have been friends since grade school. I came as soon as I heard.”
The doctor held out his hand. His name was on the badge he wore, but he introduced himself nonetheless. “I’m Mr. LaGrange’s physician, Fred Ransom. You’re fairly certain he has no relatives-no brothers, no sisters, no aunts or uncles?”
Ryan shook his head. “There’s no one, no one at all, but you still haven’t told us why you need to know.”
The doctor took a step back and considered before he answered. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Mr. Doyle,” he said at last. “It doesn’t look good for your friend. His brain was denied oxygen for too long.”
“You mean Erik is going to die?”
“He’s on life support,” the doctor said. “That’s what’s keeping him alive. If he had relatives, I’d need to consult with them before…well, before doing what’s necessary.”
Ryan Doyle closed his eyes for a moment, as if processing that information. Brian thought briefly that he might break down. Instead, he stiffened his massive shoulders and straightened his back. “What about his organs?” he asked.
“Excuse me?” the doctor said.
“Erik signed up to be an organ donor,” Ryan said. “We both did it when we first started driving. It should be on his driver’s license.”
“I’m afraid Mr. LaGrange’s driver’s license wasn’t made available to us when he was admitted…”
Ryan Doyle wheeled back on Brian. “His license isn’t here because he was in jail, right?”
Brian nodded. “Yes, but-”
Ryan took a deep breath. “Look,” he said. “When we were in high school, Pueblo High School, one of our pals needed a kidney. Robby Martin was on dialysis and waiting for a kidney to become available when he caught an infection and died. Erik and I made a pact at Robby’s funeral that we would always be organ donors. We thought if we died, maybe some other kid might be saved. If you check in his wallet, you’ll find it there. I swear to you, Erik would want to donate his organs. At least let him have that shred of dignity. Please.”
Dr. Ransom looked from Ryan to the two detectives. PeeWee was the one who broke formation. “I’m not
