Chapter 8

Saturday, June 6, 1987-Afternoon

Painful tension surged through Donovan's shoulders. He sat, hands cuffed behind his back, waiting for Brad's return. Romano hadn't uttered a word, instead he stared Donovan down like a criminal. Donovan's concerns wavered between the thought of Julie dying and him missing another visit with Sean.

How will the charge of carrying a concealed weapon go over in a custody hearing? Maybe I'll lose my chance at getting Sean back altogether.

The door swung open. Brad hurried over to Donovan. "The bullet they recovered from Julie didn't come from your gun."

"How is she?" Donovan asked.

"Not good. I think under the circumstances…" Brad gazed at Romano. "He needs to go free."

"What a crock!" Romano objected. "What about the weapon's charge?"

Brad plucked a small keychain from his pocket then uncuffed Donovan's wrists.

"Is she dying?" Donovan asked.

"Don't know," Brad said. "You need a ride to the hospital?"

"Yeah."

#

Maggie's blue Honda Civic circled the parking lot of Julie's apartment complex. Chris was in the driver's seat, Ham next to him, and Maggie in the back trying to console CJ, long overdue for his nap.

"She ain't here, Babe." Chris said, turning the car onto Ocean Avenue.

"Just go home then," Maggie ordered.

Moments later, Chris pulled into their driveway. Maggie carried CJ into the two-bedroom bungalow with his little head resting against her shoulder. She laid him down in his Snoopy decorated crib.

"Night, night, Buddy," she whispered then quietly slipped into the undersized living room where Chris adjusted the TV volume.

"Game's gonna be on soon. Dodgers are playin'," he said.

Maggie knew Ham wasn't much of a baseball fan and probably wouldn't stay unless the event involved an offer of dinner. As a bachelor, Ham despised cooking and frequented their home as often as he wasn't "away on business." Maggie had become accustomed to cooking for three, and sometimes four adults, whenever Julie popped in. Having lost some of their own loved ones during wartime, the small group of friends became like family.

"What do you boys want for dinner?" Maggie asked.

"Whatever goes good with Budweiser." Chris nodded at Ham.

"Pizza Hut delivery," Maggie guessed.

A news bulletin interrupted the Dodgers game. KDHB's Melissa Foxx cut in.

"We interrupt today's game for a special report," she stated. "The Los Angeles Police Department is reporting a shooting at the vacant Science Frontiers complex on the city's north side. The incident occurred around eleven A.M. this morning. An unidentified woman was critically injured. KDHB's John Nicholson is on the scene."

The image cut to a twenty-something-year-old man standing in front of Science Frontiers.

"Thank you, Melissa," Nicholson said. "I'm told police took one suspect into custody, and are looking for another. They ask local residents to stay in their homes. The suspect is considered armed and dangerous. No other information is available at this time."

Maggie got a glimpse of Julie's Camaro parked behind the yellow police tape. Her stomach lurched. She could only guess at who the victim was.

"Oh, God—"

Chris held Maggie. "Don't assume the worst. We don't know—"

"That was her car!" She pulled away from him. "Why would it still be there if nothing happened?"

"If the car's still there then maybe she and Gooder are too," Ham offered.

Maggie thought of the closest hospital to Science Frontiers. "I'll call the Med Center and see if it was her."

"You're jumping to conclusions." Chris followed her into the kitchen.

She yanked the phone book from a small wooden stand.

"Besides, even if it was her and you call," Chris continued. "They probably wouldn't give you that information. You're not family."

"Who should I call then?"

"Wanna find out?" Ham asked. "I'll take you to Science Frontiers. Chris can stay with the kid."

Maggie gathered her things then followed Ham out to his van.

#

Not long after Steve left his south side L.A. apartment, a news bulletin aired on his car radio, announcing that an unidentified woman was injured during a shootout at Science Frontiers. This story, coupled with the urgent tone of Nurse Karnes voice, was enough to make him conclude, Julie was the shooting victim.

Who shot her? What happened to Donovan?

Finding a close parking space at the Los Angeles Medical Center seemed like an impossible feat, so Steve parked a quarter of a mile away from the entrance then sprinted across the parking lot. Once inside the lobby, he stopped at the information desk and inquired where the ICU was. He then waited outside the elevator for about five minutes, impatiently watched the car's locator number not change and assumed the elevator was stuck. Steve found a winding staircase in the middle of the lobby then ran up three flights of stairs. He reached the fourth-floor ICU short of breath and hurried over to the security checkpoint.

"I've come in regards to Juliet Parrish," he announced.

"Are you a relative?" A young woman asked.

"Are you Dr. Maitland?" asked a nurse who sounded like the one Steve spoke to on the phone.

"Yes."

"Dr. Akers is just down the hall. Wait here." She walked away, only to return a few minutes later with Joe Akers who'd attended school with Steve and Julie and later helped the L.A. Resistance when their medical needs were beyond Julie's training. Joe was now the ICU's resident doctor.

"Steve." He stuck out his hand.

Steve gave a brief shake. "I heard the news on the radio. Is… is she—"

"She's come out of surgery, being settled into her room. She's in a coma and isn't breathing on her own… yet."

"Will she live?"

"I'm sorry. I don't have an answer," Joe whispered. "Right now it's touch and go. Her right lung collapsed. She-"

"Joe!" Mike Donovan's familiar reporter's voice called from the elevator. Steve turned to see him flanked by an LAPD officer.

"I got here as quick as I could," Donovan said. "How's Julie?"

"As quick as you could?" Steve scoffed. "Where in the hell have you been? What happened earlier?"

"Do I know you?" Donovan studied him.

"Yes, we've met before." Steve decided to keep him guessing.

"Listen, wise ass-"

Patting Donovan on the shoulder the cop warned, "Easy, Mike."

"How is she?" Donovan turned to Joe.

"You're with the media," the doctor said.

Good thinking. Steve pondered his own responsibility to protect Julie's privacy, in spite of what right Donovan thought he might have.

"I'm not here for a story," Donovan said. "I'm here because a woman I care for was shot today, and I need to find out if she's going to be okay!"

"Well, if you cared for her so much, why did you allow her to get injured?" Steve asked. "She used to be your so-called partner, right? You should've protected her."

Donovan's eyes narrowed. "You don't know what happened down there, so why don't you can it already?"

"You don't know each other?" Joe glanced from Donovan to Steve and back to Donovan.

"Yes we do." Steve glared at Donovan. "We met aboard the Mother Ship right before the war ended. I was working for the—"

"You're that damned collaborator, aren't you?" Donovan spat. "Julie's friend from college."

"Donovan, I respect that you came here to see Julie," Joe cut in. "But the hospital has strict regulations regarding patient privacy. I can't share any information without Steve's permission."

"That's bull!" Donovan insisted. "You know me! You know I want what's best for her!"

"You're not acquainted with Julie anymore," Steve said. "You interviewed some psychotic lunatic about the toxin when you should have inquired of her instead! Probably because you didn't want to deal with her, and where did that lead? She's most likely not going to survive this because of your foolishness!"

Donovan was suddenly in his face, eyes flashing with anger. "That's not true, you sorry son of a—"

"Cool it!" The police officer placed his hand on Donovan's shoulder.

Shrugging the cop's hand away Donovan stepped back a little, his eyes still focused on Steve. "Julie was supposed to meet with Maggie Blodgett this afternoon. You know how to reach her?"

"I don't know her number," Steve answered. "She lives a few blocks away from Julie. I can give you directions."

"After you get your car back," the police officer said to Donovan, "You can go there and let her know what's going on."

Joe ripped off a sheet of paper from his clipboard then handed it to Steve. "You and Julie moved to Santa Monica?"

"No. She did." Steve drew lines representing Julie and Maggie's neighborhood. He scribbled the street names. "Maggie's is the third house on the left. "

"Thanks." Donovan didn't sound like he meant it. He snatched the paper away and started for the elevator with the police officer on his heels.