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Chapter Ten – Sexy Boy
Flack awoke wondering if he'd spent the past three days on a bender with Danny Messer, the pain in his head being reminiscent to when said jaunt had once happened. He opened his eyes and found himself in a small, white room, white sheets wrapped around him from the waist down and his scar on show for whoever walked in the room to see. He cast his eyes down, not wanting to move his head due to the nauseous feeling that was now encroaching. A pile of dark brown hair was slumped next to his chest on the left and he wished that the first time they had been near a bed together had been under better circumstances than this.
"Hey, Jessica," he said, tentatively moving an arm and touching her hair with his hand. He heard a groan and she pulled herself up.
"You're awake," she said.
He made an attempt at nodding then realised it hurt.
"Do you remember what happened?" she said.
"I know I need to buy a new car." She laughed and for a moment they simply stared at each other. "Have you been home?"
She shook her head.
"You've been here all night?"
"I haven't handled it very well," she said. He saw her eyes fill up with tears, something he thought was impossible.
"Hey, why are you upset?" he said. She shook her head.
"Possibly because you were flung ten feet across the air into a metal post and have been out cold for ten hours," a voice from the door said. "Now you're awake I can check you over. I'm Nurse Holden, but the way. Jessica, go get yourself a coffee and drink it in the canteen. As soon as this one sits up he's going to upchuck his toe nails."
Angell stood up, obeying the nurse as there seemed little else to do. Flack managed to reach hold of her hand, squeezing it before she made her way to the door.
"Right, time to sit up," she helped lever him up and he suddenly realised the force with which he had hit the post. "You've got a good girl there," she said as he proceeded to vomit into the basin she had put in front of him. "She's been beside herself with worry, but she's done as she's been told."
He looked up briefly between bouts of sickness as the rather large nurse. "I'm not surprised."
"You watch what you're saying. In case you've not noticed the pain in your shoulder, which you probably haven't because we've fed you so many painkillers, you've dislocated it. And I'm going to be the one who relocates it. So the nicer you are, the less I'll hurt you," she said, sitting down. "How do you feel?"
"Better for being sick," he said, grabbing the towel she was holding and wiping his face. She moved the basin.
"How many of me do you see?"
"One, thankfully."
"Impertinent boy. How many fingers?"
He went through the tests, and Nurse Practioner Holden seemed happy with the results.
"Have you had concussion before?" she said, bringing a knee up on to the bed with surprising agility.
"A couple of times. I played a lot of hockey and knocked myself out on the ice a few times. Once I was out for nearly twenty-four hours," he said. He would still prefer concussion to a hangover after drinking with Danny.
"And how long did it take you to get back on the ice after that?" she said.
"Same day I woke up. I recover quickly," he winced as she began to move his shoulder.
"You'll need a sling for your shoulder for a few days. Try and wear it. Don't put pressure on it else you'll do yourself some real damage, and by pressure that includes the horizontal tango," he found himself blushing. "Ready?"
He winced as she moved his shoulder then strapped it up in a shoulder support. He was impressed with it, even with it on it enabled him to move his arm as normal.
"Any chance of a shower?" he said once she had finished.
"Only if you have me or your girlfriend help you. You've had grade three concussion. You're lucky not have splattered your brains. If you fall in the shower or lose consciousness again you'll hurt."
Flack lay back down.
"I said your girlfriend could help you."
"She's not my girlfriend," he said, hating the words.
"Well, you could have fooled me," she picked up the remnants from her visit. "You need any pain relief? You should still be okay from the drip they had you on."
He shook his head. "When can I get out of here?"
"As soon as you've seen one of the doctors and he agrees it's not suicide to discharge yourself. He'll be on his rounds in a couple of hours. You want a coffee?"
"Just water," he said. "Thank you, nurse."
"You're welcome. It's good to see you've healed, by the way." He looked down at his scar and then back to her. "I was one of the nurses that looked after you that first night. You wouldn't remember, but you're healing well." She left the room before he could respond, leaving Angell to come back in.
"Setting a new trend, Flack," she said, smiling.
He nodded. "All the cool kids are wearing them." She was about to sit back in the chair next to the bed. He moved up, creating space at the side of him. "Come and sit here."
She did, kicking off her shoes and moving her legs next to his. Her suit was crumpled and blood stained. He had already noticed the butterfly stitches at the side of her face and on her arm. Flack put his good arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him. Her head dropped onto his shoulder and he felt her eyelashes against his skin. He nuzzled her hair, feeling her tears trailing down his chest.
"When we get time when we won't be interrupted we need to go on a date," he said. The former areas of grey had been dissolved; the bang on the head had made him certain about a few things.
She looked up at him and nodded. Wincing, he moved his other arm across and began to dry the tear tracks. They didn't say anything, they didn't need to. The electricity was still there, he felt it with every touch or glance, but it came with certain patience. A hospital room with an unlocked door and a concussion was not the best time to start something physical, and what rush was there? She curled back into him, her eyes closing. He allowed himself to enjoy it, never having known she had this side to her, that behind that tough, wise girl exterior was vulnerability. Something softened inside him as he recalled something else her father had told him yesterday - that she didn't get upset over herself, only when she couldn't look after other people. He knew that feeling.
"I thought you said she wasn't your girlfriend?" Nurse Holden said, walking back into the room with a glass of water and abruptly waking him up. "Funny that the consultant thought she was your wife." She picked up the glass that had been placed there while he had been asleep.
"She isn't. We haven't even been out on a date yet," he said, thankful Angell was asleep, or seemed to be. He glanced at the clock. Four hours since he'd come round.
"The doctor is on his way round. However, I do have a couple of people to see you; hence I have brought your shirt – which is now clean. But to put it on, you need to untangle yourself from your non-girlfriend," she put the garment on the bed next to him.
"Do these people have names?" he said, not moving.
"A Detective Messer and a Captain Glass. Both of whom seem very nice and concerned about you and non-girlfriend here," she said, a cutting tone in her voice.
"I take your point, Nurse Holden," he said. "It's just complicated."
"Life's too short for complicated," she said. "There was a doctor I was deeply in love with many moons ago and I did nothing about it. Doctors and nurses on the same wards weren't meant to be involved back the, nowadays it's all that goes on of course, if you believe the TV. Anyhow, he attended a scene he was passing when a man was shot. Complete instinct. Of course, the shooter wants his victim dead, so he shoots my doctor too. I was in the operating room when he came round," she smiled wistfully.
"So you asked him out?" Flack said, feeling Angell beginning to stir beside him.
"No, I proposed. He said yes. Of course, for the past thirty years he's been trying to argue he was delirious when he agreed," she shrugged. "Our first date was our engagement party. Sleeping beauty's awake. You look a lot better. You looked closer to death than him at one point." Nurse Holden made her way to the door. "I'll send the two officers in, shall I?"
Flack nodded and Angell returned to her seat. Danny and Glass emerged, Glass looking as if he had been up all night, which he probably had.
"We got news," Danny said as soon as he came through the door.
-&-
Attica at six-thirty in the morning was never going to be a pleasant place to be. In fact, Attica at any time of day was not pleasant, Mac could certainly testify to that. They were in the cell belonging to Matthew Harper and so far they had found nothing remotely incriminating.
"He doesn't read, he doesn't write, he apparently makes no phones calls, so even if he and Malcolm Etchells knew each other when Etchells was here, we haven't found any way of proving that they are in touch," Stella said, closing the last drawer.
"We're working on theories. We have no proof that Flack's father was threatened by Harper. We have no confirmation that Etchells and Harper were friends in here. This is almost a waste of time," Mac said. He went back into the corridor and called to the guard. "Hey! Who does Harper talk to when he's out of his cell?"
The guard walked over to them. "Not many people. He's trying to keep his nose clean and get out of here when his chance of parole comes up."
"So which people? We need to know if he's been managing to get messages out of here," Mac said.
The guard shrugged. "Monty Jones," he said. "But that's not me talking."
"A prisoner?" Mac said.
The guard shook his head. "Nope. Monty's a counsellor. Harper's been talking to him for about three years. Apparently his dad messed about with him when he was little and he wants to get it off his chest."
"And the visits are unsupervised?" Stella said, joining Mac.
The guard nodded. "And unrecorded. Violation of his doctor-patient confidentiality or some shit. Monty's searched before and after each visit, clean as a whistle. But I don't like him."
"Any particular reason why?" Mac said.
"Every time he comes here he's in a flash car. Always an expensive one, you know, a Ferrari, a Lamborghini. He's a frickin' counsellor for the prison. My wife's one; and they don't do the job for the money if you get what I'm saying," the guard said. "Recently, after Monty's visits, I've asked Harper what they've been talking about. He just says "my father, you know, The Don," then laughs. Harper's nothing to do with Mafia, so I just think it's an in-joke."
"How long ago did he start making this joke?" Stella asked.
"About eighteen months ago," the guard looked at his watch. "I'm off shift in a couple of minutes. I hope I've helped. If it means keeping that scum off the streets I'm happy to help you more if you need it."
"You've been very useful," Mac said, offering the guard his hand. "When does Monty usually come in?"
"Every Tuesday without fail. But he turns up other days too, random days. I'll see you again, hopefully with good news."
Mac followed Stella out without speaking.
"Interesting," she said once they got to the car park.
Mac nodded. "Monty Jones. It will be interesting to speak with him. But we still have nothing concrete, it's all talk." He got into the car. "We have a vague connection between Harper and Malcolm Etchells. We know Harper is making vague references to 'The Don', which could mean Flack's father. If we're right, then this Monty guy could be the intermediary between Harper and whoever's set up the explosions, which could be Malcolm Etchells."
It's all coulds and might be's," Stella said. "I say we stop chasing rainbows and go back to what we've got. When's Malcolm Etchells' place being searched?"
"As soon as Glass has a warrant," Mac said. "Which means we've time for breakfast."
-&-
Flack was sure Danny Messer had given more thought to his little speech in the hospital room than he had in any performance review in the last four years. In fact, Flack was sure Danny's mouth was about to seize up from still smiling at his own joke, and if it hadn't seized up by the time they were out of the car, then the fist Flack would land on it would do the job.
It was now nearly five in the afternoon. Flack had been discharged an hour ago and had persuaded Danny to drive him to a couple of shops so he could buy some new clothes, since everything in his apartment was completely beyond wearing. Angell had been taken to her apartment by Captain Glass to pick some up belongings, as they had been told that they were not to return there. Flack knew they were being put into protective custody, or at least he was. Hotels were safer and more anonymous than staying with a friend so Danny had booked them two rooms, a fact he had assured them the Captain approved of. He then proceeded to assure them that the rooms were next to each other, and no one ever need know if one of the beds wasn't slept in.
Flack and Angell had starred silently at him, Danny shrugging, his back to the door through which Glass had just re-entered. Everybody knew that relationships went on at work, but no one spoke about it. Relationships could cause problems with loyalty. Relationships could cause transfers.
Glass, to his credit, had simply stepped back out, apparently hearing no evil and Danny had apologised profusely. And then smiled.
Angell had gone with Mac and Stella to search Malcolm Etchells apartment, which was in an area that even Flack would not have liked to walk through at night, the fact that a cemetery was next to where Malcolm lived even more of a deterrent. He hadn't heard from her
The purchasing of trousers and shirts and a couple of suits hadn't taken more than twenty minutes, but had added considerably to his credit card bill. Flack liked his clothes, but didn't need to spend long deciding what it was he wanted. Two shops later with Danny whinging about crowded places and they were ready to leave.
"So, you going to just use one of those hotel rooms?" Danny said, still smiling.
"No, because I like to take a woman out before jumping into bed with her. Then I make my mind whether it's a good idea or not," Flack said, knowing he was hitting below the belt.
"You're referring to Lindsay," Danny said, looking more than a little put out, the smile gone.
"Yeah, I'm referring to Lindsay. You let her believe that you were having some sort of relationship. Now she's blaming herself for you behaving like something that keeps his brains in his pants," Angell had briefly filled him in earlier about Lindsay's outburst in the car early that morning.
"Does she know about Rikki?" Danny asked.
Flack shook his head. "No, she doesn't. If she did she'd already be back in Montana." His head hurt and he realised that now wasn't the best time for this conversation, but it beat having to talk about what had happened just over twelve hour ago. He wasn't allowed to drive, wasn't meant to walk far or do anything that caused exertion. The conversation with Danny was possibly classified as exertion.
"I never said that we were having a relationship," Danny said, picking up speed as they made their way out of the worst of the traffic.
"No, but you let her believe that you are."
Danny nodded. "So I did a bad thing. Truth is, Flack, I like Lindsay, she's good fun. But she can be a little heavy sometimes and I'm just not ready to settle down."
"I'll tell you what happened. You liked her; she wasn't interested because of the court case back home etcetera. Then she was interested and you had your fun, but the chase was over and now you're bored," Flack said.
"So why you mad at me for this?" Danny said, stopping at lights.
"Because I'm mad about things in general at the moment, and you happen to be sitting next to me," Flack said. "Sort things out with her, let her know where she stands, one way or another."
"I'm not sure how we stand," Danny said, pulling up in front of the hotel in a parking bay.
"Then for her sake, you need to decide on it quickly," Flack said, wincing as he opened the car door.
Flack got to his hotel room first, Danny taking a phone call before he got inside the elevator, and saw a note pinned up on the door. Date, tonight, hotel restaurant 7:30. He smiled, taking it down before Danny could get there.
"What are you smiling at, Flack?" Danny said, dropping the bags down inside the room. "Nice place. The department is clearly splashing out."
Flack tried to shrug and found it painful. "You heard anything about the search on Malcolm Etchells' apartment?" he said.
Danny nodded. "Etchells wasn't there, unsurprisingly. They've found wires the same as what were used in the two explosives. Mac's trying to match them, but thinks Etchells has been wise enough to use different rolls so we can't trace them back. Apparently there was a load of nasty porn and other bits of evidence that links him with the four girls and Melissa."
"So it looks like it is Etchells who's trying to finish me off?" Flack said, sitting on the bed.
Danny nodded. "And we've not got him yet, so it's a good job you're here, under false names and tomorrow you'll be somewhere else. I am sorry, man; this whole thing's a bag of shit."
"They found anything to link Malcolm Etchells back with Matthew Harper," Flack said. He was convinced the explosions had something to do with his father after what Angell had overheard.
Danny shook his head. "Nothing. It's not that Mac doesn't think there's something, there's just no proof."
Flack stood up and made his way to the window. There was no view, out or in. The rooms overlooked the top of the kitchens. Danny had picked them well. "Whoever is behind this isn't going to stop until I'm dead."
"We realise that, that's why you're here," Danny said, his tone implying that Flack had somehow missed the point.
"They're going to need smoking out," Flack said, pulling out his cell. "Has anyone managed to get in touch with my parents?" he said, hearing Glass' phone ringing.
"We had a local sheriff go round. They weren't there – car had gone. He figured they'd gone away for a couple of nights."
Flack hung up. Glass wasn't answering. "I'll try my brother," he said. "That's where they go when they're trying to avoid me."
Danny nodded and made his way to the door. "Have fun. Those beds look big, by the way. You might want to find someone to share it with."
"Yeah, very funny, Messer. Now go, you got your own problems to sort out." He dialled his brother's house, a feeling of worry churning in his stomach. "Hey, Tim, it's me. Are mom and dad with you?" The answer was positive; they were staying with him for a few days and were currently on their way to a restaurant. "That's good. Tell them I'm okay and to call my cell if they want to speak to me. Yeah, I'm fine. I'll catch up with you soon. Bye." He hung up, the churning stopping, but something still not feeling quite right.
Flack checked out the shower and pushed all thoughts of the investigations to one side. He smiled, unbuttoning his shirt. He had a date to get ready for.
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