more. “It’s for your own good, Erik. If I tell you what I’m thinking and I’m wrong, it will get your hopes up for nothing. And if I’m right, telling you too soon could compromise the investigation. But it might also exonerate you. So I’m asking you to sit tight, be patient, and trust me on this one.”
He makes a sweeping gesture around the inside of his cell. “It’s not like I have much choice.”
“I promise you that as soon as I have anything solid, I’ll let both you and Lucien know, okay?”
He studies me through the bars of his cell, seeming to weigh my trustworthiness. Apparently I pass muster because he sighs, nods, and says, “Okay, Mattie. My fate is in your hands.”
I should feel relieved to hear him say this, but I’m frightened instead. The weight of this investigation is beginning to press hard on me, and Erik’s fate is a responsibility I’m not sure I want.
Before I have time to consider it further, I hear a familiar voice coming down the hall, one that prompts me to prepare for a hasty exit. Seconds later Lucien enters the room accompanied by a uniformed officer and Bjorn.
At first glance Lucien appears to be a normal, decent-looking guy. He has an average build, strawberry-blond hair, blue eyes, and wears suits, button-down shirts, and ties when he’s working. But his clothes always have that slightly rumpled, slept-in look, and often as not the colors he wears clash violently. His hair, which is just wavy enough to be a bit unruly, is usually slicked back with a ton of greasy gel that makes it look perpetually wet. It all works together to lend him an air of slick sleaziness, an image he manages to reinforce every time he opens his mouth.
The officer gestures toward Bjorn, whose hands and face are smeared with chocolate. “Does he belong to you?”
“He does,” I say, taking Bjorn by the arm and steering him toward a chair. I grab some tissues from a box on the desk and start trying to clean off the chocolate. From the corner of my eye I see Lucien watching me with
“Aw, Sweet Cheeks,” he says to me in a pathetic tone. “I know you’re probably yearning for a churning now that David’s out of the picture, but this guy’s a little old for you, isn’t he?”
“I’m not dating him,” I say, adding a mental
Bjorn doesn’t help the situation when he adds his own two cents, which turns out to be more like a halfpenny. “We worked out a deal,” he explains. “I take her where she needs to go and she takes care of the tube in my peter.”
Silence fills the room and Bjorn senses that he might have said something dicey. He tries to remedy the situation but only makes it worse. “She handles my sac when it gets too full and I need to drain my tube.”
“Hey, Sweet Cheeks, you can handle my sac anytime you want.”
“Nice, Lucien. Are you forgetting about your wife, who also happens to be my sister?”
“Of course not. We can include her, too. I’m always up for a threesome.”
The uniform snorts a laugh at that one and even Erik manages a smile. I’m about to snap off another comeback but I bite it back, realizing it’s a waste of time. I know from past experience that Lucien has no shame. And while he talks a good talk, as far as I know that’s all he does. Someday I’m going to take him up on one of his challenges just to see what happens. But for now, I think the wisest course is to ignore him.
“Come on, Bjorn,” I say, walking over and hooking my arm through his. “Let’s get going.”
“Where to now?” he asks as we head out of the police station.
“I want to make a quick stop at the hospital, to order you those other bags I was talking about.” That’s only part of the reason I want to go there but Bjorn has no need to know the other. “After that I need to go to Smithville, but if you don’t mind lending me your car I can drop you off at the cab office and you can spend the afternoon driving around some real customers for a change.”
He shrugs and says, “A trip to Smithville sounds like fun. I don’t get out of town much anymore.” I start to protest but before I can get a word out he adds, “Besides, what about my bag? You said you’d keep me empty all day.”
I sigh, wondering why his forgetfulness never includes this promise. “Okay, Smithville it is then, right after the hospital.”
There’s a brief moment of awkwardness when Bjorn and I both head for the driver’s side door of his car, but I acquiesce and move to the passenger side. As he climbs in behind the wheel and shuts the door he says, “When we get to the hospital I think I’ll head for the cafeteria while you order your stuff. I’m kind of hungry.”
“Fine, but you have to promise me you’ll eat some real food this time. No more sweets for now, okay?”
He shoots me a sidelong glance that is a mix of disappointment and calculation. “How about just one tiny dessert after I eat something healthy?” he tries.
I shake my head. “No, Bjorn. You’ve already eaten more sugar today than most people eat in a week. It’s not healthy.” He opens his mouth in preparation for his next protest and I cut him off, delivering my coup de grace. “Besides, all that sugar makes you pee more so your bag is going to fill up faster.”
He clamps his mouth shut and stares out the windshield for a moment, contemplating. I can tell he’s suspicious about my claim but I also know he isn’t likely to know if it’s true or not. When I see a look of resigned acceptance on his face, I know I’ve won, at least this round.
“Okay,” he says, turning the key. He carefully backs out of his parking space and into a light post. The one advantage of his snail’s pace is that these little fender benders don’t cause too much damage or injury. A definite disadvantage is the road rage he triggers among those forced to share the streets with him. His driving skills, or lack thereof, create pockets of chaos everywhere we go. At least five cars honk angrily at us and I lose count of how many drivers make obscene hand and finger gestures. Bjorn is blessedly oblivious to it all as we crawl our way along.
I, however, am not. I take every glare, every gesture, and every unheard uttering personally. So when we finally pull onto the street where the hospital is located, I breathe a sigh of relief. But when I see the crowd of people and vehicles gathered in front of the building, I realize the chaos has followed us here.
Chapter 28
Cop cars, ambulances, TV vans, and half a dozen miscellaneous vehicles are parked willy-nilly in front of the hospital by the ER entrance. I see uniforms of all types amidst the crowd: cops, hospital security guards, EMTs, and a few generic hospital white coats. There must be close to fifty people milling about and Bjorn is so captivated by the scene that he almost runs over three of them in his efforts to negotiate the bedlam.
As soon as he’s safely parked I take out my cell phone and dial the ER. Fortunately one of my old nursing cronies, Phyllis—aka “Syph”—answers, a coup for me since I know she’ll tell me anything I want to know.
“What’s going on out front of the hospital?” I ask her.
“It’s one of those precious Hallmark family moments,” she says, her voice thick with sarcasm. “Apparently some family got into a tiff about a will and things got physical. Ambulances were called and one of the people involved was transported to the ER. He’s in here and his cereal bowl is a few flakes shy, if you get my drift. A couple of cops are trying to deal with him but the guy’s gone totally off his rocker.
“The rest of the family members are out front, arguing. Rumor has it two of the women got into a hair-pulling contest and an EMT got punched when he tried to break it up. His partner called for backup and that’s when security and the police got involved. We’ve been told none of the injuries are serious but we have no way of knowing since the only patient we’ve seen so far is the Froot Loop in here.”
This scenario sounds disturbingly familiar, and as I scan the crowd of faces my suspicions are confirmed. There, right in the middle of everything, is Aaron Heinrich. Having no desire to get caught in another of the Heinrich family melees, I grab Bjorn’s hand, duck down so I can’t easily be seen, and guide us both along the edges of the crowd. We make our way to a back entrance to the hospital, one that’s mainly used by delivery personnel. It’s locked on the outside but I remember the key punch code needed to open it and, within seconds, Bjorn and I are inside. I send him off toward the cafeteria and then take some back hallways that lead into the patient care area of the ER.
