MIAMI'S HERO

Chapter 5

(Two weeks later….)

Eric enjoyed watching Horatio interrogate. He was a master of his craft, switching his tone from quiet empathy, to light-hearted banter, to intimidating aggression, as the circumstances dictated. He could lull a suspect into a mood to talk, but he could as easily scare them into an admission. Eric watched him and tried to learn, tried to imitate his mentor.

He was having a difficult time with Carlos Gonzales. The man was a hardened felon, and a 'no comment' merchant. So far, Horatio's skills had, for the most part, failed, and the man was more or less blanking them. They had been niggling away at him since two o'clock. It was now almost four. Eric felt he needed a coffee, and thought that Horatio, who had been talking almost non-stop, would be even more in need of a break. However, he knew that if his boss perceived a chink in the suspect's armor, he'd keep on.

He heard him falter. Horatio seemed to lose his train of thought. Stopped a sentence then started again. Then stopped, with a small sound somewhere between a cough and groan. Eric scooted his chair closer and took his arm.

"What is it?" He spoke softly but urgently. "Are you ill?"

He got no answer. Horatio braced his hands on the table, and pushed the chair back a little. He made to stand, but it was as if his legs wouldn't co-operate, and he slumped back. Then he wrapped his arms round his body and leant forward, his head almost on his knees.

Eric didn't hesitate. He signalled to the uniformed officer to take their prisoner out. As they left, he got up, closed the door, dropped the blinds on the windows that looked out on the bull-pen, and went back to Horatio.

He touched his knee. "What is it? Try to tell me… Are you in pain?"

He got an incoherent grunt in reply.

Eric pulled his cell out and called Tom Loman. "Tom, come quick, will you? Interrogation room. Horatio's ill."

He put his arm round his boss's shoulders. He could feel him trembling. His immediate thought was a heart attack. He murmured, "Hang on… Tom's coming…" then, with no response from Horatio, he hugged him, saying softly, "I've got you, I've got you…," over and over, while he prayed for Tom to hurry.

The doctor, complete with medical bag, came in, quietly closing the door. "What happened?"

"I don't know. He just suddenly went… like this… He's in pain, Tom. Is it his heart?"

The ME bent down beside him. "Horatio? Can you hear me? Can you sit up?"

Eric did not always get on with the eccentric and excitable Tom Loman, but now, his manner couldn't have been more gentle.

"Come on… Try to sit up. I can't even examine you like this…" He rubbed Horatio's arm. "At least tell me where it hurts…"

Horatio, with a faint moan, pushed himself partially upright. He was white to the point of grayness, with tears of pain in his eyes. He whispered, "Got to lie down…"

Eric wished there was somewhere more comfortable than the floor, but there wasn't, and at least the room offered some privacy. Together, he and Tom eased him onto the ground. Eric grabbed Horatio's own jacket from the hook and folded it under his head.

Tom said quietly, "Eric, this really doesn't look good. I think we need an ambulance."

Eric nodded, pulling out his cell phone, while watching the doctor doing his best to examine a man intent on rolling onto his side and curling up.

He managed a brief examination. "Well, I don't think it's his heart. Seems to be abdominal pain mostly…"

"Appendix?"

The doctor shook his head. "Too sudden. And too severe."

Horatio groaned, throwing himself onto his back, then onto his side again.

"Can't you help him?" Eric knelt down beside Horatio, putting an arm across his shoulders again.

"I'd rather leave it to the hospital. Honestly, Eric, I've no idea what we're looking at."

The ambulance arrived quickly, as Horatio, though still in pain, seemed to drift closer to unconsciousness. As the paramedics lifted him onto a gurney, Eric said quickly, "Tom, tell the others, will you? Well, Calleigh, particularly." Even as he said it, he knew that word of this would rush through the building like wildfire, and no one would need to be told anything. "I'm going in with him."

"Of course. And let me know…"

Eric hated hospitals, hated them as a patient, as a visitor, most of all as… whatever this was called - waiting for news. He had spoken to Calleigh on the phone, but it was Frank Tripp who now sat down heavily in the chair beside him.

"What in hell happened, Eric?"

Eric repeated the events. "I've never known him be ill, especially like that…"

"No warning signs?"

"None. We were in interrogation. He was fine. Then he wasn't."

"And they haven't said…?"

"Not yet." He glanced at his watch. "It's been over an hour."

They both waited in silence. It was another half-hour before a doctor approached.

"Well, unlikely as it sounds, we think he's been poisoned."

Eric frowned. "Deliberately, you mean?"

"Ah, don't know that. Could be accidental. Trouble is, we don't yet know what with. We're running tests at the moment."

"He'll be okay, though?"

"He's not good, but he's strong. We've got the pain level down, but he's barely staying conscious."

"Can I see him?"

"Rather not, until he's a bit more stable…" The doctor smiled sympathetically. "Look, I'm going to chase the results up. Sooner we know what we're dealing with, sooner I'll be able to give you proper news."

Eric stared at Frank. "Poison? How could he be poisoned?"

The detective shook his head, his expression grim. "I've got the most horrible suspicion… No… It's not possible…"

"What, Frank? Tell me."

"Let's see what the tests say."

"Please, Frank!"

"No, I don't want anyone going off at half-cock. Let's get the facts… Although," he added under his breath, "if I'm right, I swear to God I'm going to kill the bitch myself."