She winked at him, then said in a breathy whisper, “I’m a friend of Cayla’s.”
Will was trying to summon up one of Bill Black’s grunts when Faith finally appeared.
“What the hell’s going on?” She directed her anger at the cop. “I know Chief Gray taught you better than this. Did you check this guy out?”
Raleigh hesitated. He clearly had a healthy fear of his chief. “The guy’s got an ID.”
“You can get those at Kinko’s.” Faith nodded toward the doors. “Go downstairs and check with HR.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Had Raleigh been a few years older, he would’ve told Faith where to stick her order, but he was new enough to jump when she snapped her fingers.
Ruth looked up at the ceiling, all business as she asked Will, “What do you think, Bud?”
Will looked up, too. “I think something’s leaking.”
Faith suggested, “Maybe we can move Mr. Long to a different room?”
Ruth shook her head. “It’s just me up here for the next hour and I can’t move him by myself.” Faith offered, “I can help.”
“We’re not really allowed to—”
Will interrupted, “I’ll need the room cleared anyway.” He pushed up the ceiling tile and used the flashlight on his belt to look inside the drop ceiling. Will had been looking into ceilings in the hospital almost every day of the last ten. He knew that his chances of finding at least one suspicious-looking pipe were good, but the nest of lines crisscrossing the ICU still surprised him.
He pushed the tile aside so everyone could see as he tried to sound authoritative. “That’ll be oxygen, the condense line for the AC, PVC pipe, some old polybute. I’m gonna need a schematic so—”
“I get it,” Ruth stopped him. “Let me call my supervisor and see if I can get her up here.”
She left, Faith on her heels. Will kept his flashlight pointed toward the ceiling, but his eyes were on Jared Long.
The young man’s face had blown up like a balloon. There were tubes sticking out of everything. His eyes were taped shut. Dried blood was caked around his nostrils. The flesh on his hands was a waxy, yellow color. No cop wanted to see another cop in a hospital bed. Will wasn’t normally superstitious, but he had to suppress the shiver working its way up his spine.
Then again, Jared Long wasn’t the only cautionary tale in the room.
Slowly, like she didn’t want to break anything, Lena uncurled herself from the chair.
Will asked, “You holding up?”
“No.” She stood on the other side of the bed with her arms wrapped around her waist. “Sara doesn’t know you’re doing this, does she?”
Lena had always been an astute observer, but Will wasn’t going to talk to her about Sara. He glanced over his shoulder, checking Ruth. The nurse was talking on the phone. Faith was practically glued to her side.
Lena said, “I won’t tell her. I haven’t told anybody.” She rubbed her lips together. They were cracked and dry. “You’ll find out eventually. I’m good at keeping my mouth shut. I’ve learned to do the right thing.”
Will asked, “What happened last night?”
“They shot him.” Lena stopped the story there, dismissing her involvement in a wholly predictable way. Still, Will could tell she was reeling from the aftershock. Her eyes were bloodshot. The bruise under her eye mottled the skin. She couldn’t seem to keep her balance. Her pupils were wide open, though he didn’t know if that was from the dark room or some kind of medication.
He said, “Tell me what brought this on.”
Her head moved slowly side to side.
“Was it the raid last week?” He paused. “Two cops were hurt. Were you part of that? Were you on the team?”
She paused before answering, “I’m not allowed to talk about the raid.”
“You and I both know you don’t play by the rules.”
“Ask Branson.”
“I’m asking you.”
Her head started shaking again. She looked down at Jared. Her voice was barely a whisper when she told her husband, “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”
Will said, “Lena, something happened to set this off.”
She didn’t respond.
He tried to be diplomatic. “Did Jared pull somebody over who might want to hurt him?”
She gave Will a confused look, as if it never occurred to her that a motorcycle cop working part of a drug corridor that ran up the Eastern Seaboard might find himself in a dangerous situation.
She asked, “You think he got in the way of some traffickers?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
She seemed to think about it. “They would’ve shot him then and there.”
Will knew she was right, but he still asked, “Jared didn’t mention anything?”
“We weren’t really talking.”
Will let her words settle. He wasn’t surprised there was marital discord. The first thing he’d seen when he walked through the front door of their house was a pillow and sheet on the couch.
Will asked, “What about you?”
“What about me?”
Will checked on Ruth again. Faith made a motion with her hand, indicating that there wasn’t much time.
He tried to keep his patience as he told Lena, “Whatever brought this on—I know you didn’t mean to do it. You’re not a bad person. But you did something, and it got us here, and you need to tell me what that thing is so I can stop whoever did this.”
There was still a small shake to Lena’s head. Her hand was resting on the guardrail. She flexed open her fingers, letting the tips graze the sheet covering Jared’s body.
Will said, “You know you can trust me. There’s a reason I’m here.”
She didn’t acknowledge his plea. “Your partner. You work with her long?”
“Faith.” Will tasted blood on his tongue. Without thinking, he’d chewed at the cut in his cheek. “A while.”
“She any good?”
“Yes.” Will tried another tack. “Who’s Big Whitey?” That snapped her out of it. He saw a flash of anger as the old Lena started to surface. “What did Branson say?”
“Who is he?”
“No one.” She seemed genuinely afraid now. “He doesn’t exist.
He’s a lie.”
“Lena—”
“Stop.” Her voice took on a pleading tone. “Listen to me, Will. If you love Sara, you’ll stay away from this.” She gripped the bed rail, desperate. “I mean it. Stay away.”
Will looked back at the nurse again. She was obviously finishing up her phone call.
He told Lena, “Talk to me. Let me help you.”
Lena shook her head. Tears started to flow. “We’re supposed to protect people. We’re supposed to keep them safe.”
“The best way to keep Jared safe is—”
“How do you decide?” She swallowed hard. The sound was louder than the hum of the machines. “How do you decide whose life is more important?” Her hand went to her stomach. The palm was flat, fingers splayed. “He would want this,” she whispered. “This is what Jared would want me to do.”