Chapter 12

Saturday, November 1, 1997 – Los Angeles, Cedars-Sinai

The clock on the wall in emergency receiving read 3:23 am. Enos's nose had been broken, possibly a fractured cheekbone as well, and he was presenting with symptoms of concussion. It was all the paramedics would confirm after they had taken his vitals, immobilized his head on a fracture-board, ensured he was stable enough to be moved, and before they loaded him, half-conscious, into the ambulance.

Following closely and breathing hard, Inez pulled out her mobile phone again and punched in the number for the on-call Detective, Gordon Thompson. The light fracture to his left ulna had not been severe enough to keep him off the duty roster.

"Detective De Pina, what's up?" was Thompson's sleepy reply.

"I need you to get to the office and find E's mobile phone."

"Techs say it was pretty damaged in the accident, can't make or receive calls."

"I need you to see if you can pull a number off the contact list."

"Not sure if that's possible. Why do you need it in the wee hours of the morning?" A genuine note of concern crept into Thompson's voice. "Has something happened to Strate?"

"He's in the ambulance in front of me. Looks like blunt force trauma and can't tell us anything at the moment. He was with Kay Mun tonight at the Halloween function. I need you to get that phone. If you can't get anything off the phone, find her address or mobile number through 911 and get her to Cedars-Sinai."

"Inez, you don't think…"

"I don't know what to think. He was barely lucid. What I could get out of him was garbled, but I think he was trying to say he needed to find Soonie. So, as much as we need to know what happened to E, we need to be sure nothing's happened to her as well."

"On it!"

Saturday, November 1, 1997 – I-5 North of Los Angeles

Sometimes, the Universe can be a real bitch. How could so much have happened in just three days? Forty-eight hours or so earlier, she had answered the door and found Enos there, trying to explain why he had not called her after the accident.

By the time he arrived at her apartment, being angry with him was the farthest thing from her mind. She had flung herself at him before he knew what was happening. Feeling the tears falling on his neck, he held her and tried to apologize for making her cry.

"Soonie," he'd said, in his gentle, soothing Georgia voice, "I'm so sorry. Please don't cry."

"I was only angry at you because I had to hear it on the news. I should not have yelled at you."

"If you were gonna' do it in another language, you should have bawled me out in Spanish so I could understand it. 'Cept, I don't think Thompson would have gotten as much of a charge out of it if you had." He smiled, pulling her away only slightly to see her face.

"That is not why I am upset."

"Then what?" he asked. Her nose was red, as if she had been crying for a while. "Soonie, what's wrong?"

"It is my brother," she said. "His plane disappeared on its way back from Zaire. The authorities believe it crashed."

"Shot down?" They had talked about how much turmoil there was in the Congo.

"We do not know. I got a call from Uncle Sang-jun about an hour ago. The NGO Jae-sung's team was working with is trying to gain access to Zaire, and he was on the plane with them."

"But he's not a diplomat. He's a doctor. I thought he was workin' at the clinic in Rwanda."

She shook her head. "I only know that he was on the plane. They lost contact with the pilot sometime yesterday morning. Uncle said it could take several days to find out where it might have gone down. Or been forced down…it may be the best we can hope for, and he is a prisoner somewhere. But," she hesitated, "I do not think that scenario would be a good thing either."

"What about his little girl? Where is Gem?"

"With my father. You know the situation between my father and myself - I have not spoken to him. Uncle told me Eun-kyung does not know yet." Exhaustion was evident in her breathing when she buried her head in his chest and sniffled into his shirt, "She is only four years old."

He had guided her to the sofa and gathered her into his arms, where she felt warm and safe. She had gone to sleep there. Wednesday night and Thursday morning had left little doubt in her mind and heart...he loved her.

However, he was a man of honor, and technically, he felt as if he was still engaged to Daisy Duke, something which would make no sense to someone else. It was part of the reason she loved him.

Now 1:30 am on Saturday, Soonie was driving her Audi north on Interstate 5, headed for her uncle's house in San Francisco, listening to a CD. By 1:45, when Alison Krauss was halfway through When You Say Nothin' At All, she used the exit at Santa Clarita and headed back south toward LA.

The countryside was eerie with no moon and only the mile markers in the headlights for company. The Verdugos, and the future she had hoped for, were invisible in the blackness. She had been so proud of herself for keeping it together, for being so civilized about the whole thing. What she had felt like doing was slapping Enos until he came to his senses and realized he was in love with her, not Daisy; that no sense of loyalty or previous commitment he felt he had to Daisy would ever change that.

He just hadn't been able to tell Daisy about them and end it over the phone. Soonie understood. She had felt some weird affinity for Daisy if nothing else other than the fact that Enos had loved her. He was not the type of man to give his love to just anyone. From her perspective, however, what he felt for Daisy was a different kind of love. The woman was a significant part of his history. They were on speaking terms again. Oddly, she credited the re-establishment of contact between them for having paved the way for hers and Enos's relationship to grow.

Enos had promised he would tell Daisy, in person, at Thanksgiving about Soonie. That was the plan. So, why had Daisy suddenly appeared, without any warning, last night?

Soonie calmly, more calmly than she ever imagined she could, had said, "Te quiero. Llámame cuando lo hayas resuelto," and left him with the one person who could change the future she so desperately wanted. It was the reason she turned the car around. 16

By the time she passed Burbank, the bitter taste of what had transpired a few hours earlier transformed into the fear she might lose Enos to the very thing which had made her fall in love with him. When she reached the northeast edge of Griffith Park, she received a call from Detective Gordon Thompson.

Saturday, November 1, 1997 – Los Angeles, Cedars-Sinai

Inez watched over E as he lay on the emergency room gurney, waiting for imaging to collect him for a CAT scan. The doctor suspected he might have fracture damage to the right maxilla along with a broken right lateral nasal cartilage and possible damage to the lateral ethmoid bone. The CAT would do little to confirm if he had a concussion, which would require an MRI.

'One thing at a time,' Inez thought, 'One thing at a time.'

She had questioned the use of sedatives when there was clear evidence E had a concussion. Still, the attending physician had assured her it was safe and would make him more comfortable during the diagnostics.

"It is a myth that concussed patients should not sleep," Doctor Reubens had said. "From my initial examination, the EMT report, and everything you told me of his responses before you called 911, he was both wakeful and aware, therefore clinically conscious before we administered the sedative. That does not mean Detective Strate was able to respond alertly to every stimulus. Although he may fit the criteria of clinical consciousness, if he has a concussion, he'll still be disoriented and may experience some amnesia, especially of the incident which caused it. The extent will depend on the severity of the head trauma. I'm sorry I can't tell you more, Detective."

Doctor Reubens had also told her whatever happened to him must have occurred within two hours before he showed up at her door.

E was asleep when imaging came to take him to the eighth floor. He looked peaceful. Too peaceful.

Saturday, November 1, 1997 – Los Angeles, LAX

Daisy, already in a heightened state of agitation and exhaustion, was presently fit to be tied. She stared down the airport cop who was blocking her way onto the jet bridge. 'How much was one person supposed to sit still for anyway?' she thought.

The people boarding the plane were trying, for the most part unsuccessfully, not to stare. Why wouldn't they stare? She felt like the criminal they probably thought she was.

"Why are you keeping me here? I'm supposed to be on that plane," Daisy said as she pointed to the Gate 62 boarding sign for Flight 3254 to Atlanta. Daisy had no qualms about challenging legal authority. She'd had a lifetime of practice.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Duke. I have to detain you until Detective Thompson arrives."

"Who is Detective Thompson, and why do you have to detainme?" As much as she tried to stay calm, she couldn't suppress the slow boil in her tone.

"I understand your frustration, Ms. Duke. I don't know any more than you at this point. I was asked to hold you here until the Detective arrives."

Exasperated, she intended to ramp up her protest by invoking Enos's name when a tall, thirty-ish man in a well-tailored suit approached and showed his badge to the uniformed officer who had stationed himself a few yards away. 'Presumably,' she thought, sarcastically, 'to catch me if I make a run for it?'

"Ms. Duke," the thirty-ish man said. "I'm Detective Thompson. I work with Detective Strate. I'm going to need you to come with me."

"Where? Why?" Daisy noticed the cast on his left arm and recognized him as the Detective from the newspaper photo of the Wednesday car crash.

"Because Detective Strate is in the emergency room at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, and you are the last person we know of to have seen or been with him before he was injured."

Although Thompson had mellowed slightly over the past few months, less progress had been made on his empathic skills. He had knocked the stuffing slap out of her, and she almost dropped her bag on the floor.

"Injured? How? I just saw him a few hours ago."

"When exactly was that, Ms. Duke? And please try to be precise."

"Not until you tell me what's goin' on. Was he in an accident? Is he okay? Why can't he tell you himself?"

The last thought told her that if this Detective was grilling her about when she last saw Enos, then he wasn't able to speak for himself, which could only mean he wasn't conscious…or worse. That's when she started to get scared.

"I don't know his condition yet. Only that he had some blunt force injury. The Detective who went to the hospital with him had to turn her phone off in the trauma unit."

The words 'trauma unit' made her shudder, and the color drained from her face.

"Still waiting to hear from her," he continued. "She told me to call Ms. Mun first, and Ms. Mun told me about you. I'll drive you to Cedars. Try to think of when you last saw Detective Strate on the way."

Still trying to stay above choppy water in a sea of disbelief, Daisy sat in the back seat of Detective Thompson's car while he talked to dispatch on the radio.

"I think it was," she suddenly inserted over the chatter of codes she didn't understand, "I think around midnight, maybe a little after…Wait, my ticket may have…" She started to reach into her bag and remembered Enos had insisted on paying for the first class, non-stop ticket to Atlanta, so she wouldn't have the receipt. "I bought a magazine at a kiosk after he left. It was the only one open."

She dug around in her bag and pulled out a crumpled register receipt with a date and time stamp of 11/1/1997: 12:48 am and handed it over the back of the seat for Detective Thompson to take.

Then, in a more focused moment, she said, "He put the receipt for the plane ticket in his billfold."

"According to Detective De Pina, he had his badge and ID but no wallet."

"…Was he robbed?"

"I doubt it," Thompson smirked.

Inwardly, he thought how absurd it would be for someone to try and rob Strate. He would either mop the street with them or sweet talk them into cuffing themselves. 'No,' he thought, 'has to be something else. Whatever it was, whoever it was, they took him by surprise then ran like hell, leaving his badge, ID, and ankle gun.' That much De Pina had been able to tell him before she had to turn off her phone. What happened to the wallet was anyone's guess at that point.

"Any idea where he was going after he took you to the airport?"

He looked into the rearview mirror and saw a pained expression on her face. Her voice was subdued and hesitant when she answered.

"He was going to San Francisco."

Inez had said, "What I could get out of him was garbled, but I think he was trying to say he needed to find Soonie." Thompson had the feeling there was more to what happened in the last fifteen hours than an attack on a police officer.

When they arrived at the Emergency Department entrance, a helicopter was landing on the roof helipad. Daisy, already scared out of her wits, forced herself to stay calm when they passed elevators clearly marked Trauma/Service Elevators Only.

Hospitals, especially just before daylight, are like mausoleums, unnaturally quiet and all too still. Sitting alone in the disquieting silence was not Inez's strong suit. She had just turned her mobile phone back on to contact Thompson regarding the whereabouts of Kay Mun when she glanced at the corridor outside the windowed waiting room.

Inez had only seen photos, but the woman with Thompson was definitely her, the woman who, if she'd had her in her sights six months ago…

Of all the people Inez had expected to see tonight, Daisy Duke was last on the list.

Soonie arrived a few minutes later in the company of Dylan Greer.

Saturday, November 1, 1997 – Los Angeles, Cedars-Sinai

Thompson and Greer followed Daisy and Soonie into the waiting room. Inez asked Thompson, "Where's the sling?"

He held out his left arm, revealing more of the lightweight cast. "I only needed it for the first couple of days. Took it off when I got home last night. Forgot to put it back on. This thing is bad enough. The sling gets in my way."

Inez pursed her lips and, much to her own surprise, acknowledged Soonie, who looked wan and vulnerable, with genuine sympathy, "Kay."

Soonie responded, in kind, with, "Inez."

Turning to Daisy, Inez said, "Ms. Duke, I'm Detective De Pina. I work with Detective Strate." Instead of extending her hand to Daisy, Inez crossed her arms and assumed a professional stance. "I regret we have to meet under these circumstances."

"Yeah, me too," Daisy said, feeling De Pina's coolness. "Where's Enos?"

"He's on the eighth floor, in diagnostics."

Soonie, trying her best to exhibit the steadfast mettle of a police officer's wife, asked, "What is his condition?"

"He has some trauma to his nose and maybe his cheekbone. And he may have a concussion. Right now, he's stable and sedated. The doctor said he would be in imaging for a little while. So you both need to settle in. Could be a long wait."

Inez motioned to Thompson and Greer with her head towards the door. "Let's talk outside." Then, she turned back to Daisy and Soonie. "I'll be back in a few minutes to speak with both of you."

Inez gathered up evidence bags that had been out of sight on the seats turned away from them. She left with two large evidence bags and several medium bags containing vials, a badge, a small pistol, and its holster. Daisy's eyes followed Inez out of the waiting room, fixed on one of the large bags containing a white dress shirt stained dark with blood.

Soonie deliberately riveted her attention on two uneven tiles in the floor under the waiting room window. Had Enos's arms been anywhere close, she would have crumbled into them like an over-baked cookie. However, she was determined not to fall apart in front of either Daisy or Inez.

After Inez, Thompson, and Greer disappeared down the corridor, a different, armed, uniformed officer assumed a watchful position outside the waiting room door. A little calmer now, Daisy looked around the waiting room. It appeared small for a large hospital like this one. There must be constant activity in the trauma center around the clock.

She asked Soonie, "Are we suspects?"

"I think she is there for our protection," Soonie said.

With neither of them wanting to talk about the night before or to start something they couldn't finish, a silence, not in the least companionable, descended on the room.

In the corridor, Inez asked Thompson and Greer, "Okay, what's the story with those two?"

Based on what Kay had told him on the ride in, Greer let Thompson take the lead on this one.

"Where to start," Thompson began. "I was able to get Kay's mobile number from Strate's phone. When I called her, she had been on her way to San Francisco to her uncle's house, then changed her plans. She was headed back to LA. I asked her to pull off on the shoulder before I told her what happened. She didn't take it well, at least, not as calmly as she seems right now."

"She's had a lot to deal with over the past couple of days. E told me yesterday her brother's plane went down in Central Africa. As far as I know, she hasn't heard anything about whether he's dead or alive."

"Sheesh. Talk about the rain in southern California," he said. "According to Ms. Duke, Strate was also headed for San Francisco. By the way, who is she? Kay wasn't making much sense when she told me I should be trying to find Ms. Duke. Still don't have a clue." He wondered if he should be adding the pretty Ms. Duke to the growing list of 'Strate's Women.'

"Long story," Inez said, looking at Greer, who likely knew precisely who Daisy Duke was. Couldn't have known E for as long as he had without knowing about Daisy. "Way too long to get into here. Where did you find her?"

"At the airport, right where Strate's neighbor told me I would."

"How," Thompson asked Greer, "did you end up with Kay?"

"The LAFD chopper landing on the helipad earlier was transporting one of the victims of the accident on the I-5 on the southeast end of Griffith Park. One driver fell asleep at the wheel and took out three other vehicles. The rest of the injured were taken to County General. Traffic was snarled in both directions for miles. Kay parked her car on the shoulder and trudged through the median and bloody victims, trying to find anyone with a uniform. When I recognized her, she told me why she needed to get to Cedars, we left her car and keys with Torres, and I brought her here in my patrol car."

Inez didn't have time to explore why Kay Mun would be recognizable to Dylan Greer or vice versa, so she didn't pursue it. Greer read the question on her face.

"She's been at the firing range with Enos," he said. "Every other weekend for the last couple of months."

Thompson asked, "So how's Strate's condition?"

"Doctor Reubens assured me it looks worse than it probably is. We won't know until the CAT scan's analyzed. And then there's the possible concussion. The main concern for us right now is...he didn't do this to himself."

"I don't think it was either one of them," Thompson said and motioned toward the waiting room with his head.

References:

(16) Translation: "Te quiero. Llámame cuando lo hayas resuelto." = "I love you. Call me when you have sorted it out."