Chapter 41
"Anytime your ready, Mr. Palmer." the detective said.
He wore a bland expression but Dean knew it was all part of the game cops played. Show no emotion; try and let the suspect do all the talking and hope sooner or later he hung himself. Well, that wasn't going to happen. One way or another there was a way out of this mess and he was gonna have to find it.
"I'm not sure where to begin." Dean started. It was a stall. He knew it. This Detective Falk probably knew it. But his mind had been too wrapped around what was happening in that surgery room to fabricate a story. Think, damn it! He had to come up with something, and fast, to save all their asses.
Problem was he couldn't focus, the gnawing in the pit of his stomach had intensfied, giving him this strong sense that something was wrong. He tried to push it down, not wanting to believe that there was even the slightest chance Leah was in danger. They'd said they only needed to clean the wound, how bad could that be? Still, the uneasy feeling lingered and the only thing that was going to help was shaking this damn cop as quick as possible so he could get some answers about Leah's condition.
"Look, I can..." he started to say, but then the detective stepped toward him, closing the small distance. Falk gripped his shoulder and squeezed lightly in a sympathetic, comforting gesture.
"You can relax. Just tell me what you know. I more than understand. See, the truth is, sometimes this job is hard to do. I feel like I have to intrude upon people in their most grievous hour." He spoke softly, as if taking Dean into his confidence. "Take your situation, for example. I understand how difficult it must be. First you have to report your girlfriend missing, then you somehow find her and she's been shot. And worse, you end up having to bring not only her in, but someone else as well. I want you to take a minute, compose yourself, then try and tell me what you can. I'll keep this interview as brief as possible so you can get back to waiting with your family. Maybe you can start by telling me the deceased's name."
Dean stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out the cop's angle. Why the hell was the guy playing the sympathy card? What was Falk up to? He closed his eyes momentarily and tried to think like this man, figure out his ploy, but then it hit him - no matter what he was planning, Officer Devious may have actually just helped him out. Apparently Nigel was dead, which meant there'd be nobody to contradict the story he manufactured. Why not stick close to the truth and blame it all on Manning's weak ass cousin? There'd only be a few lies, a few changes to cover up the fact that it had been a ghostly possession behind it all.
"Deceased? The guy I brought in is dead?"
The corners of the large man's thin lips dipped down. "You hadn't heard?" Scratching the top of his head with blunt, dirty fingernails, Andrew Falk said, "No, I suppose you wouldn't have. He was pronounced d.o.a. Interesting that he'd been shot, too. Of course tests will determine if he was shot by the same type of gun as your girl, though there's no doubt in my mind he was."
Dean fought to keep his own expression even as he took it all in. Here we go, he thought. it's all pointing towards me. He thinks I shot both of them - Nigel and Leah. Time to start talking, Dean.
"Mr. Palmer? The deceased's name? Do you know it?" the detective urged.
Dean ran through the drill. Eye contact was important to cops, and a steady tone. Keep the info minimal and stick as close to the truth as possible, less chance to trip yourself up later with contradictions. With that in mind, he inhaled a slow, deep breath through his nose and slowly released it. Then he began to lay out the story that he hoped like hell would keep him out of jail.
"The guy's name is...was Nigel. He's the cousin of a guy Leah worked with last year. From what the son of a bitch told me tonight, he'd always had a thing for her. I guess he lost it when he found out we were back in town. Started following us around and..."
"You ever see him following you?" The detective interrupted as he began writing in the small notepad he'd pulled from the pocket of his rumpled suit coat.
"Yeah, I did," he lied. "but I didn't know who he was. And Leah never got a good look at him. Then this morning he grabbed her outside a t-shirt shop, but obviously I didn't know it was him at the time. Her family decided to call you guys as soon as she disappeared. Oh and great job, by the way. You boys jumped right on that."
Glancing up at Dean, brows knitted together, he said, "Sarcasm won't help you out here, son. I'm on your side." He paused, just long enough to make a point. "Right?"
"Yeah. Right." Tired of dealing with the cop's bullshit, Dean looked over the guy's shoulder in search of Sam or Amy. He wished like hell that there was some word on Leah. How long did that sort of surgery take, anyway?
Following Dean's gaze, Falk sighed. "Look, I know you don't want to do this right now, and I also know your attitude is nothing personal, but I need to get the facts straight. Two people were shot tonight and one of 'em is dead. So, do you think this was some sort of revenge on this," he quickly scoured his notes in search of the name. "Nigel guys part? Had your girlfriend Leah ever dated him or..."
"No, never." Dean offered, shaking his head. "She barely knew him. I don't know that I'd call it revenge. Maybe he was just pissed because he knew he couldn't have her so he decided to do something about it. Like I said, Leah worked with his cousin David, David Manning. That guy had issues, too. Go talk to some of the other women the sick shit worked with. They'll back it up. They were both seriously messed up, okay? Manning and Nigel."
That seemed to pique Falk's interest. "You know how I can reach this David Manning?"
"I've heard mediums work." Dean couldn't help but feel a little satisfaction by the confused look on the man's face. "They communicate with the dead."
The detective's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "He's dead?" More writing. "Interesting."
Yeah, sure was. If this joker only knew the half of it. But to the cop, the reality was that two guys somehow involved with him and Leah were dead. Interesting scenario for Falk, but it didn't look too damn good for him. It was more than clear that he had become the main focus in all this. And even worse, he had to admit that from their viewpoint it made perfect sense.
"Okay, I'll be sure to check into that." the detective said. "I'll talk to some of those women. Now, how long have you known about this Nigel fella's obsession with your girl?"
"Only a couple of hours. First time he mentioned it was when he called to say he was the one who'd taken Leah and to tell me where I could find them. After I got there, I managed to get her away from him. We made it to my car, but so did he. And if I still had doubts at that point, he made his obsession perfectly clear when he jumped into the backseat of my car and held a gun to her head."
Falk's fingers were flying across the paper as he hurried to write all the information down. "Wait, you're telling me he called and told you where she was? As in, he wanted to confront you? And you didn't call the cops - why?"
Unable to suppress a look of disgust, Dean let the cop know exactly how he felt about that last question. "Call you? We did call you, remember? The missing person report? And you didn't do shit about it. I knew who had her and where she was and I wasn't gonna wait around for..."
"For what? Her to get shot?" He glared at Dean. "When did that happen, by the way? Before or after you shot Nigel?"
Shit! He needed to watch his temper, think before he ran his mouth because he needed to be the one in control, telling the cop what he wanted, when he wanted. He couldn't afford to let the detective lead him into saying the wrong thing. "I didn't exactly shoot him." Before the cop could respond, Dean explained. "After I found them and tried to get Leah out of there, he pulled the gun on us. It went off when we were wrestling for control of it and clipped him in the side. That gave me and Leah time to get away. Like I said, we made it to the car, but so did he."
Rubbing his chin, Falk's head bobbed up and down as he contemplated his next question. After a moment, he asked, "That also when you bashed his skull in? He had severe trauma to the head as well."
Dean had forgotten about the blood that covered half of Nigel's head. Obviously David had taken his frustration out on his cousin. How the hell to explain that one? Should he say that happened during the battle for the gun?
Thankfully, he didn't have to figure it out. They were interrupted by the sound of a woman's voice.
"Excuse me."
The men turned at the same time, Falk upset with the distraction, Dean grateful for it. It was the very nurse who had failed to keep her earlier promise to follow up on Leah's condition. Biting back the nasty remark that sprang to mind, Dean instead asked, "You ever find out how Leah's doing?"
She seemed genuinely contrite. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to get back to you sooner, Mr. Palmer, but things are crazy here tonight. I did just learn that Dr. Grandin has come out of surgery. He's going to speak with Leah's family right now. You might want to join them as soon as possible."
Her somber expression and the underlying urgency in her tone brought Dean's earlier fears to light. The unfathomable sense of dread returned full force and without another word to the detective, he pushed his way past the man, heading for the far corner of the room.
"We're not finished, Mr. Palmer. We'll need to talk later." Falk called after him.
Dean waved a hand in the air in acknowledgement. "Sure thing." He knew what the cop was really saying...don't leave town.
The nurse caught up to him, leading him through double doors and into a small waiting area where everyone had gathered. As soon as they saw him, the small group rushed to greet him, upset about the amount of time the detective had held him. After he'd assured them everything was fine, Sam leaned in close, concern evident in the crinkling of his eyes and the firm set of his mouth.
"Seriously, you okay?" he asked.
Dean shrugged. "I will be as soon as this friggin doctor gets out here and tells us what's going on."
"I know, but I'm sure Leah's fine. What's the deal with this cop? Was it just the standard stuff or do you think he'll be a problem? I mean, if he thinks..."
He quickly cut his brother off. "It'll work out, Sam. I got it under control." At least, he sure as hell hoped he did. He'd tried to cover the most important details and was pretty sure he had. Except for Nigel's head wound. But that shouldn't be a big issue. Either way, this Falk guy was suspicious, assuming right off Dean had done all the shooting so he'd just have to stick with his story and hope that once the guy talked to some of David's coworkers, he'd be convinced the story was on the level. There'd be time later to brief Sam on the details and once Leah was feeling up to it, he'd run them by her as well. It wasn't as if he'd strayed that far from the truth.
"I hope so, Dean. But we should talk about it before you deal with that detective again." Sam insisted.
Noticing the doctor approaching, he hastily agreed, then set his attention to the slender, middle-aged man who'd joined them. Dean studied the physician's tightly drawn face, took in the slightly slumped shoulders. Christ. The guy didn't just look tired, he looked like he was about to lay some bad news on them. Clenching his jaw, he stepped closer just as the doctor began to speak.
"You're Leah Chandler's family?" he asked.
Ed nodded as he waited for the news, one arm wrapped around his wife's shoulders, the other around his daughter's. "How is she?"
Dr. Grandin cleared his throat and scanned the faces that stared ominously back at him. "I was able to clean the wound with no problem whatsoever. The bullet did some damage, obviously. Her shoulder, a few ribs, but it did exit which is good." He paused to draw in a slow deep breath. "But I'm afraid some complications arose and..."
Nearly everyone spoke up at the same time, their voices rising in unison as the impact of his words hit them.
Ed immediately pushed forward. His face was flushed and his breathing forced as he urged the doctor for a simple explanation. "Complications?! What the hell does that mean? What happened? Is my daughter all right?"
The doctor instinctively took a step back and held up his hands. "Please, let me explain. Please." It grew silent and he continued. "The procedure seemed to be going along smoothly, then we noticed the change in her vital signs. Increased heart rate, drop in her blood pressure. The anesthesiologist reacted quickly however we're not sure what triggered off the allergic reaction. We use a mixture of several medications and..."
"What the hell does all that mean?" Dean interrupted, unable to control the fear roiling through him. His fists clenched at his sides, the ache in his chest unbearable as he forced the words out. "Just tell us, God damn it! Is Leah okay or not?"
Dr. Grandin slowly shook his head. "I'm afraid she's slipped into a coma."
TBC