A/N: Sorry about the long break since my last update. Real life sometimes gets busy. I want to thank everyone for your continued support. I really appreciate you!
Chapter 12
Roy pulled the squad to a stop near the back of The Pourhouse, deftly dodging smoldering fragments of wood.
"What the hell…," Johnny mumbled, his somber eyes taking in the scorched remnants of a shelving unit piled just outside the back door.
The paramedics hurried from their squad, pulling on their turnout coats while Mike stopped briefly near the closest hydrant, allowing Chet and Marco to disembark. Chet looped his arm through the hose, so Mike could pull forward, laying the lines while Marco prepared to tap the hydrant. Behind the engine, Vince screeched his patrol car to a stop, blocking the street to keep onlookers at a safe distance.
Captain Stanley took charge, surveying the scene.
"Kelly, Lopez, inch and a half," the fire captain ordered, reaching back into the cab of the engine and lifting the microphone. "LA, Station 51 on scene. Respond an ambulance to our location. Time out 30 min."
"10-4, 51," the disembodied voice of the dispatcher responded.
As soon as Roy donned his turnout coat, he saw a young man in a soot-covered white dress shirt stumbling and coughing as he made his way out of the back door. Across one shoulder, he carried a young woman. Roy immediately recognized the waitress uniform and the long dark hair as belonging to Bri. He rushed to the young rescuer's aid.
"I've got her," he announced, carefully shifting the unconscious form onto his shoulder while Johnny assisted the man out onto the back lot.
"Ahua-hua, ev-ahua," the young man coughed, clearly trying to communicate with the paramedics.
"Is everyone out?" he asked, gently pushing his victim's shoulder until he laid down. Skilled eyes began a quick visual assessment of the patient while he adjusted the oxygen mask on the man's face.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Vince easing Amy down beside the young man.
"Ye-ahua, yea," Amy answered for her customer who was breathing in the much needed oxygen. "Fella… ahua, knew wha-ahua, what he was doing."
"Amy, you okay?" Johnny asked, screwing in the antenna on the orange biophone.
"Ahua, yea, ahua-hua," she answered, her voice raspy from the smoke. "That shelf… fell on 'er," she continued, lifting a smutty arm in the direction of the smoldering wooden heap near the back entrance of the restaurant. "He…ahua, got it… off her."
"Just lay down and relax," Johnny ordered, then looked up at Vince. "Grab the oxygen off the engine, will ya?"
"You got it, man," the ebony officer replied, turning on his heels.
"Rampart this is squad 51, how do you read?" Johnny spoke into the biophone, wedging the handset between his shoulder and ear. He reached for his patient's wrist while he waited for a response. Behind him, he heard Roy's voice raise, his victim becoming combative.
"Go ahead 51," came the soothing voice of Dr. Joe Early.
"Rampart, we have three victims of a restaurant fire. Standby for vitals."
"Standing by," the kindly voice replied.
Johnny contorted his torso, glancing behind him to check on Roy and Bri. He saw Captain Stanley rushing to Roy's aid, and returned his attention to his two patients. He also saw Amy trying to get to her feet and gave Vince an appreciative nod when the officer prevented the older woman from getting up.
"No, you don't, ma'am. She's in good hands," the officer stated, placing the oxygen mask on her face. "Johnny?"
The dark-haired paramedic knew what Vince was asking and reached over to adjust the flow of oxygen a little higher. His anxiety level rose when he heard his captain's strained voice.
Hank struggled to restrain Bri. "Easy, Bri… Take it easy… Bri? BRI!" the fire captain yelled, struggling to restrain the confused young woman.
"Bri," Roy began, using an assertive voice instead of his usual calm-the-patient tone. "Hey, it's Roy… You're safe, Bri. You're gonna be alright. Just relax for me, okay? Take some deep breaths," he added, placing the ear pieces of his stethoscope into his ears and pumping up the blood pressure cuff. He glanced at their wide-eyed victim, noting the absolute terror in her eyes. Her head was shaking violently from side to side, then she began to wretch.
"Quick, Cap," Roy began, snatching the oxygen mask off of his patient. He helped Hank restrain Bri against the fire captain's chiseled chest to keep her from further injuring herself while turning to the side as she threw up. Roy felt a sense of relief when he heard Johnny talking to Dr. Early on the biophone.
"Rampart, victim number one is a female, approximately 23 years old. She has smoke inhalation and was being administered oxygen when she began vomiting. Be advised, she is combative and incoherent."
"10-4, 51," Dr. Early replied. "What are the vitals?"
Roy reached for the biophone, straddling his patient's thighs to help keep her immobilized while he answered Dr. Early's questions.
"BP 140/90, pulse 120, respiration rate 30, labored and shallow. She has smoke inhalation and was on 6 liters of oxygen by mask until she began vomiting. We've got her back on O2 via nasal cannula. She is combative. I haven't been able to calm her down enough to assess her further," the red-haired medic announced. He waited for instructions as his patient continued to fight both the firemen and her own stomach.
A few feet away, Amy and the restaurant patron were both concerned about Bri. Amy removed her mask long enough to question Johnny.
"Is… Is she… gonna be… okay?"
Johnny looked at her with a sense of compassion. He wasn't sure how to give her an honest answer. "She's in good hands, Amy. What happened in there?" he asked. He needed to gain as much information as he could for the medical staff at Rampart. Even the tiniest details could be significant.
"We were… making pastry dough… and… somethin'… blew up," she replied, taking deep inhalations between words.
The young man sat up, speaking into his oxygen mask. "I was… the only… customer…" He hesitated, staring at Captain Stanley restraining the young woman he had brought out of the fire. He noticed the number 51 on the helmets of the firemen, and he nearly choked. "Um… ahua… nobody smokin'… cigarettes inside… nothin' 'til… fireball… behind the… counter."
"Fireball?" Johnny asked, watching both Amy and the customer nodding. He noted how closely the young man was watching Captain Stanley and Roy. "Hey… They're takin' good care of her," he reassured them, "but anything you can remember will be helpful."
The young man nodded his understanding while holding the mask to his face, blinking his eyes rapidly as he looked away from the scene.
Johnny turned to Roy. "Whatcha need?"
Roy set down the biophone. "2 milligrams Lorazepam," he commented, continuing to sit on Bri's legs while Hank held her upper body, shifting her to the side each time she started to gag. Her raspy cries and gasping groans tugged at the hearts of everyone present. They knew that in her confused state, she had no idea who they were or why they were restricting her movements. Her natural instinct was to fight to get away from the perceived danger.
Johnny administered the drug, doing his best to assess her for injuries while the other men tried to keep her from further harming herself. He picked up the biophone to give Rampart an update.
"Rampart, this is squad 51."
"Go ahead 51."
"Rampart, Lorazepam has been administered, she has a minor laceration along her left cheek and first degree burns on her neck and chest, also numerous contusions from a wooden shelving unit falling on her. I'm unable to assess pupillary response at this time," he added, noting how tightly her eyes were closed.
Vince kneeled down beside the firemen, slipping his notepad back into his shirt pocket. "The customer says the explosion caused a shelving unit to fall on top of her, pinning her beneath it. He said she wasn't knocked out, but it took him a couple of minutes to remove the debris and get her out… said she was pretty shaken up."
Johnny and Roy exchanged a knowing look. Both men knew she was going to need morphine for her burns and were grateful that she didn't seem to have a head injury.
As the sedative began to take effect, Johnny felt around her head and neck, confirming the customer's statement. Her eyes shot open, but she was unable to pull away from his probing hands. He knew she was going to need morphine for her burns, but he needed to verify that she had no head injury.
"51, start an IV with D5W, wrap the burns in sterile sheets wet with saline. Any evidence of head trauma?"
"Negative, Rampart," Johnny replied, seeing their patient beginning to relax further.
"Administer 5 mg of morphine, IV push, and transport as soon as possible."
"Wrapping burns in sterile sheets, IV D5W and 5 mg Morphine IV push. Ambulance is on scene. Victim number 1 will be transported first while we wait on a second ambulance to transport victims 2 and 3. They have mild smoke inhalation and are receiving oxygen with vitals to follow." Bri was their obvious priority; he would thoroughly assess the other two after Bri was on her way to Rampart.
"10-4, 51. We'll be ready to receive."
Hank felt Bri's body going limp and gently lowered her to the ground. Now that the paramedics had the situation under control, he needed to check on the progress of his engine crew.
Mike, having already shut down the pumps, stepped over to join his captain's long strides across the back lot. "Fire's out… How're the victims?"
"Amy and the customer are gonna be okay. Not sure about Bri… She's… flipping out on them," he replied, jerking his head towards the paramedics. By the time Hank and Mike reached the blackened back door of the restaurant, Marco was exiting.
"Starting overhaul, Cap," the senior lineman announced.
"Any idea what might've caused it?" Hank asked, stepping over the threshold, avoiding the debris in the mess. He heard the sounds of Chet using his pike pole to check for hotspots and made his way in that direction.
"Something definitely blew," Marco commented, picking up his own pike pole. "Check out the hole in the roof," he said, aiming his pike pole in the direction of the blue sky peering through the opening in the far corner of the kitchen. "Thankfully, somebody shut the gas off pretty quick or it could've been worse."
Vince walked in behind them, looking up at the charred remnants of the ceiling. "Damn," he mused, exhaling a low whistle. "She's gonna be closed for a few weeks, for sure."
"Yea," Hank agreed, making a few mental notes; something wasn't right. He had seen many explosions during his tenure with the fire service, but this one looked odd. "Get anything from the witnesses?"
"Fella says he was the only customer. He ordered a bacon cheeseburger and a few minutes later, he heard an explosion and saw a fireball behind the counter. He ran to the kitchen to help the two ladies who were cooking. He got Amy out first and told her to call it in. He shut off the gas, but it took him a few minutes to find Bri… Seems she was underneath that shelving unit that…was over there," he said, noting the pile of cooking supplies strewn on the floor.
"Well, grease fires don't normally cause a fireball," Hank muttered, using his boots to kick at the kitchen debris.
"Not alone, but looks like it might've had a little help," Mike added, picking up a bent piece of metal shaped like the rim of a snare drum.
"What's that?" Vince asked, seeing Mike turning the object, or what was left of it, in his gloved hands.
"It's called a tamis – an Industrial flour-sifter," the engineer replied.
"Amy said they were making pastries… What's that got to do with-"
Hank interrupted the officer's question with a quick explanation. "Flour dust particles are highly flammable."
"Explosive," Mike added, peering up at the ventilation system over the cooking area. He pressed his lips into a thin line. Everything seemed to be in order, very little damage had occurred which was not what he had expected to find.
Once again, the keen eyes of the fire captain took in the damaged roof combined with the carnage of the kitchen. He felt a prickling on the back of his neck. Something just wasn't adding up.
"Never knew flour could blow a hole through the roof," the officer mused, his voice laced with doubt. Vince lifted his eyebrows. "You sure it wasn't deliberate? I mean, this is a lot o' damage and… it wasn't that long ago that Gretchen was found overdosed and nearly dead back there," the officer said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the back lot. "Maybe it was sabotage… Not Gretchen, but maybe the folks who tried to kill her, ya know?" Vince remembered the case well. He had been stunned to learn that Gretchen's near-death experience had been an attempted murder case.
Hank seemed to give the idea a little thought. "I doubt it. That bunch of religious zealots has been disbanded and their leader is dead."
Vince took a step closer to Hank and Mike. "Yea, but I was thinkin' 'bout Bri and her situation." He didn't need to say anything more. Hank and Mike both understood. Was it possible that Bri's escape from prostitution, and her subsequent testimony that sent her tormentor to prison was somehow linked to this explosion?
Mike cleared his throat, deciding to speak up. "Ahem, well, I've heard that when these girls leave their pimps that they're often tracked down and killed. I know that Gomez is in jail and Hunley's headed to prison, but I'm sure they've got friends…" He left the rest unspoken, his mind going back to Lexi's odd behavior of late. "Still… usually the simplest explanation is the right one," he muttered, turning the damaged kitchen utensil around in his hands.
Hank rubbed his chin. "Maybe I should give Sanford Bennett a call, just to cover all the bases," he commented, noting the subtle nods of agreement from the other men.
E!
Inside the first ambulance, Roy was feeling a sense of relief. His patient was becoming much more calm and coherent, and her vital signs were normalizing as well.
"Wha… what hap'ned?"
"Easy, Bri… Just try to relax for me, okay? You were in a fire at the diner, but you're gonna be okay."
Dark eyes focused on the red-haired man leaning over her. "Roy?"
"Hey… You recognize me," he said with a smile while he laid his hand gently on her abdomen to count her respiration rate. He saw her eyes begin to dart around. "You're inside an ambulance and we're on our way to Rampart. How're you feeling?"
Bri could tell that her left cheek was slightly swollen, and she briefly wondered who had punched her. She tried to raise her hand to touch her face, but Roy stopped her.
"No, don't move your arms, okay? You've got some burns, so they're wrapped up. Are you in pain?"
Roy's comment seemed to connect her brain with her injuries, and suddenly she couldn't stop the airy gasp. "Ugh… yea… some… Is everyone else okay?"
Roy's blue eyes were filled with compassion. She was truly a remarkable woman; she hadn't even asked about her own injuries but was worried about the others in the restaurant. "You got the worst of it. Amy and the customer had a little smoke inhalation; Johnny's riding in with them, but I suspect they'll be released in no time." He reached up to check the flow on the IV, noting the familiar left turn of the ambulance as the Mayfield driver pulled into the hospital parking lot.
The second ambulance was only a few minutes behind. Johnny kept a close eye on his two patients, sitting on the bench across from him but neither seemed to be in distress.
"You probably saved Bri's life," he said to the young man, wanting to offer his gratitude. "Most people run away from fires, not into them."
Behind his soot-covered face, the young man blushed. "My brother was a fireman."
Johnny noticed the shadow that crossed the young man's face, saw him look away as he ran his palm across his forehead. He didn't have to ask, Johnny knew the look; the use of the past tense did not escape the ears of the perceptive paramedic. "I'm sure you miss him."
The man merely nodded his head. "He died doin' what he… ahua… what he loved."
Johnny used his fingers to remove the rivulets of sweat that were beginning to trickle their way down his face. "How long?"
"A few months."
Johnny nodded, fearing he knew the name of the young man's brother. Even with his face covered in soot, there was a family resemblance that left little question as to his identity.
"Your… captain," the man began, clearing his throat. "Ahem… Stanley?"
Johnny nodded his affirmation, his heart thudding in his chest. His fears were being realized.
"Good man… all… all of you are," the young man said, his voice softening with emotions. "My brother loved his job… No one is to blame for what happened… to him… ahua-hua," he commented around his coughs.
Johnny looked out the window, grateful to see the familiar hospital coming into view. "Kyle was a good guy and a good fireman. We, ah… we nearly lost Cap after the accident… blamed himself."
The younger Carrigan brother simply nodded. "I know… Is he… okay… now?"
"He's better," Johnny said, grabbing onto his seat as the ambulance bounced into the parking lot. "He'll never be completely okay, though. Losing a man under your command is… is something no captain ever gets over."
"Guess it's what… makes us… human, huh?"
"Yea."
As the ambulance backed into the bay and the doors opened, the young man asked Johnny one final question. "Do you think he'd… be willing… to talk to me?"
Johnny helped Amy step out of the ambulance and into the waiting wheelchair. As the orderly whisked her away, he turned to the young man. He saw no hint of malice in the other man's red-rimmed eyes. He wasn't sure how to respond.
"Sir… I don't want to… bring up… anything bad… but… I jus'… want him to know… that… ahua… that we don't… hold any… ahua…hard feelin's, ya know?"
Johnny urged the man to sit in the proffered wheelchair while he removed the oxygen tank from the back of the ambulance. He sensed that the younger man needed to say the words even more than their captain needed to hear them. He stepped beside the wheelchair, dragging the tank behind him. "Cap got a card from your family; it basically said what you jus' told me."
"I know… but that was from… ahua… my folks… I'd like to… tell him, myself."
Johnny walked beside the wheelchair down the corridor and into treatment room one. He switched out the oxygen from the squad's portable tank to the hospital's supply. He looked over at the young man now lying on the exam table, his eyes closed while he breathed in the refreshing oxygen.
"I think they'll let you out o' here soon. A-shift will be on duty until 8 o'clock in the morning," the paramedic offered, patting the younger man on the shoulder. "Deep breaths, okay, pal? Doc will be in shortly," he added, just as Sally entered the room. He gave her a tired smile, then looked back down at the patient whose green eyes were offering a silent 'thank you' to the paramedic. "You got lucky," he chuckled. "Not all the nurses around here are as sweet and pretty as Sally. She'll take good care of you."
"Ahem… thank you… I'll see ya… before you clock out," Carrigan offered, once again swiping at his face. He was feeling a bit anxious about meeting with his brother's incident commander from that fateful night, but he needed to speak to him. He had heard the rumors that the fire captain had nearly left the department following Kyle's death. Seeing him in action today, especially how he had handled the young waitress, let him know that the department still needed him; he was a natural born leader. And he needed to know it. Who better to reassure him than the brother of the man who had died under his command?
E!
As the shadows grew longer across the front lawn of the Lopez residence, Maria said another silent prayer for her daughter. She had been gone several hours for what Maria had assumed would be a short visit. She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard a vehicle pull into her driveway, but when she looked out of her window, her heart sank.
She walked to the front door, painting on a smile as she opened it. "Hello, Beverly. So nice to see you," Ms. Lopez greeted, kissing her future daughter-in-law lightly on her cheek.
"Hello, Mama Lopez," she said with a big smile, enjoying the new term of endearment she was practicing. "I brought something for Lexi, a gift for being my bridesmaid," she said proudly, lifting the tiny white box with a yellow bow for Maria to see.
"Oh, how kind of you. I'm sure she'll love it, but she's…" Maria hesitated, hoping her worry lines weren't showing. "She's gone to have a talk with Briat your place… offering an apology, I hope." Maria closed the front door as she ushered Beverly into her home. "She's been gone for quite some time, so I hope that means the talk is going well." When she turned around, the look on Beverly's face stopped her dead in her tracks. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"Bri's working a double shift today. I dropped her off at 7:00 am and I'm not supposed to pick her up until 11:00 tonight."
Maria's trembling hands covered her mouth. "Oh no… where could she be, Beverly?"
Beverly set the small box down on the coffee table, then turned to face the older woman. She placed her hands on Maria's shoulders, grounding her. "I don't know, but we mustn't panic. Do you have any idea where she might have gone other than my apartment? I can go looking for her."
Maria shook her head, her eyes welling up with tears.
"Okay, did she take anything with her?"
Before Maria could respond, another vehicle pulled into the driveway. Marie recognized the sound of the car and felt a deep sense of relief. "That's her… she's back… but… What do I say, Beverly?"
"Nothing… Don't pry and don't accuse. I don't know what's going on, but let's give her a chance to tell us the truth first. We can't confront her, she's still too fragile."
Maria wiped her eyes with her apron, making herself presentable just as Lexi walked in.
"Hi Beverly, sorry I'm late Mama. Time just kind of… got away from me," she said, hoping her mother wouldn't pressure her for information.
"Oh, that's okay… I take it the visit went well, then?" Maria asked, hoping she hadn't asked too much.
Lexi faked a yawn, then headed for the stairs before answering. She had become a skillful liar during the last five years, but she wasn't sure she could be untruthful with her own mother. "Pretty well, I think," she replied. At least that much wasn't a lie.
"That's good. Um, Lex, Beverly has something for you."
Lexi stopped at the bottom of the stairs. When she turned around, her future sister-in-law was standing there, holding a prettily wrapped box in her hand. "It's a bridesmaid gift. I want you to wear them at the wedding."
Lexi accepted the box and carefully began peeling away the paper. When she opened it, she nearly gasped at the ornate earrings nestled inside. Her dark eyes looked up at Beverly. "They're beautiful. Thank you," she beamed, hugging the older woman. "I love them… They're… perfect," she commented, all the while wondering how much money she could get for the jewelry after the wedding. After all, she would have no use for them after the big day.
"I'm glad you like them." Beverly turned around, seeing Ms. Lopez twisting the hem of her apron in her hands. "Well, I guess I better be going. You two take care and give Antonio a hug for me."
"He's out back, playing on the swing set if you'd like to speak to him," Maria suggested, her warm smile returning. "It's getting dark outside; he needs to come in." Lexi's reaction to the gift had been just what she'd hoped. Maybe she was worrying for nothing… but if Bri was working, then why did Lexi say the visit went well? The thought still niggled at her brain.
"I'll go get him," Beverly said, heading for the back door. "Good night, Lexi," she tossed over her shoulder, hearing the younger woman's soft footfalls going up the creaky staircase.
"See ya later," was the weak reply.
Beverly wrapped an arm around Maria as they turned to head for the back door. "I'll talk to Bri when I pick her up tonight. Who knows, maybe Lexi stopped by the Pourhouse to see her."
E!
A couple of hours later, Beverly was walking into the apartment she now shared with Marco when the telephone began to ring. She dropped her keys on the kitchen table, a happy smile spreading across her face as she glanced at the kitchen clock.
"Right on time," she mumbled to herself, picking up the receiver. "Lopez residence," she said in a soft voice.
"Beverly, I need to tell you something," Marco said, hurrying to get to the point before his words alarmed his fiancée. "There was an explosion at the Pourhouse this afternoon. Bri's at the hospital, but she'll be okay."
Beverly's hand covered her mouth, stifling a gasp. Marco heard her and rushed through the rest of the story.
"There was an accident in the kitchen, but a customer knew exactly what to do and he got Bri and Amy out. Amy had a little smoke inhalation, but Johnny said she'd be released soon. Bri's going to be there for a day or two. She's got some burns on her arms and neck, and she breathed in a lot of smoke, too."
"Oh, my goodness," Beverly said, finally finding her voice. "I'll… um, I better pack a bag and go stay with her," she said, running a nervous hand through her hair. "Rampart?" she asked, knowing that it was the closest hospital to both the Pourhouse and Station 51.
"Yes, just go through the emergency department. Dixie and Dr. Early were taking care of her when Roy left." He rubbed his eyes with his smoky hands. He had made the phone call before taking a shower. "I knew you'd want to know."
"Yes, of course. Thank you, sweetheart. I love you… Guess I probably won't be here when you get home in the morning," she said softly.
"It's okay, baby. Might make it easier on me, anyway," he said with a snicker, trying to lighten the mood. Their self-imposed period of celibacy was difficult, but their wedding night was going to be much more special because of it.
E!
Amy splashed her face with cold water, trying to wash away as much of the smoky scent as she could. When she looked up into the mirror, she was startled by the face she saw behind her. Spinning around quickly, she nearly lost her balance.
"Beverly?"
"Hey, Amy," the counselor said, placing a reassuring hand on the older woman's shoulder. "The charge nurse told me she saw you step in here. I just wanted to let you know that I'm here to spend the night with Bri… Why don't you go home? You must be exhausted."
Amy snatched a few paper towels from the dispenser in the hospital's restroom and patted her face dry. "Yea… I am. How'd you-"
"Marco called me."
"Oh, yea," Amy replied, dropping the damp paper into the trash can near the door. "Sorry… Guess my mind is still a little disengaged."
"It's okay; I get it," Beverly responded, walking behind Amy as they made their way back to Bri's room.
"She's been asleep ever since I got here," Amy said, quietly pushing the door of Bri's room open.
"Since she's asleep, why don't I drive you home?"
"Thanks, Beverly, but I'll just call a cab to take me back to the diner. My car's still there."
"Do you feel like driving?" Beverly asked, adjusting the blankets on Bri's sleeping form.
"Yea… I'll be fine… besides," she said, hesitating at the door. "I want to see how much damage was done."
"I'm so sorry, Amy. You've worked so hard to make the diner successful."
Amy gave Beverly a half smile. "Yea, but it's just stuff, you know? I have insurance. It can be replaced… People can't be replaced. I'm glad no one was hurt any worse than…," she gulped, feeling her eyes stinging. "Any worse than this," she said, nodding at Bri.
"Me, too."
Amy opened the door. "Will you tell her I was here and that I hope she feels better soon?"
"Of course… This isn't your fault, Amy."
"I know… but I still feel guilty," she said, stepping into the doorway. "Call me when she wakes up, okay?"
Beverly nodded her agreement, then took a seat in the chair beside the bed, settling in for what was likely to be a long night.
E!
Back at 51's, the paramedics had just returned from a medical call. Roy quickly removed his bunkers, slipping his feet beneath the covers and turning onto his side. Within a couple of minutes, his soft snores joined the cacophony of others in the dorm room. But his partner did not find sleep so easily, even when he was exhausted.
Johnny lay awake, staring at the familiar ceiling, the droning of the ticking clock in the dorm room pounding out a cadence he couldn't block out. His mind had been wandering during each break he had gotten during this shift. In exactly one week, he would be reunited with his beloved, and he was overjoyed. Yet, there was a part of him that was nervous. Lily had seemed somewhat distant during their recent telephone calls. Was she falling in love with Selma? Surely not, he mused. How could anyone fall in love with a place that held so much negativity from her past. Then he considered his own homesickness for the reservation where he had spent his childhood. No matter how poverty-stricken or lacking in resources his childhood may have been, there was a certain amount of comfort associated with it. He had left a part of his heart on that reservation, and it would always be special to him. After his father had bought the ranch, the work had been hard, but it had produced good memories. Was Lily replacing her negative memories with more pleasant ones? Was he going to become just another warm memory to her? Was it possible that he would be replaced by a proverbial southern gentleman who might woo her away from him?
Johnny draped his arm over his face. 'You're losin' it, man,' he thought to himself as he slowly blew out his breath, but that tiny niggling voice remained in the back of his mind. He had told her that he loved her, but perhaps it was time to make his intensions known – even if he had only just realized them himself.
E!
Detective Crockett collected his Styrofoam cup of strong black coffee from the plastic cupholder attached to the interior window ledge of his sedan. Setting it on top of his car, he pulled on his navy-blue sports coat, retrieved his cup, and headed for the front door of the metro jail. He pushed through the glass door, greeting the secretary.
"Good Monday morning," he said, his pearly teeth grinning at the woman behind the counter.
"You're a little too chipper, aren't you?" she asked, reaching for the sign-in ledger she knew he would want. "It's Monday, Ron; didn't anybody tell you?"
He chuckled, leaning against the counter and accepting the book from her. "I know, but at least we can walk out that door later today," he said, using a sweeping gesture with his arm, "but these fine upstanding citizens of our illustrious facility can't."
"Well, it ain't 'cause they sang too loud in the church choir," she said, snickering to herself.
"Yea… We do have some doozies residing with us, don't we?" the detective asked, rhetorically. "So," he began, flipping the pages to the most recent one. "Let's see if any of my favorite criminals had any interesting visitors yesterday…"
He was working on a couple of homicide cases that were rapidly growing cold. He was hoping that the two suspects currently serving time on drug charges, but who were known enemies of the deceased, might have had visitors that had not yet been questioned. With any luck, his scan of the visitor log might provide a new lead.
As his dark fingers guided his eyes down the page, one name stood out. He lifted his eyebrows, cursing under his breath. "What the hell?"
The secretary looked up from her stack of paperwork. "Find something?"
"Yea… Maybe… Were you the one working visitation yesterday?"
"Unfortunately," she groused, rolling her eyes. "Why?"
He flipped the book around, pointing to the feminine signature on line seven. "Do you remember her?"
The dark-haired woman slipped on her reading glasses and looked at the signature in question. "No, not really. Why?"
"Because Alexandria LeRoux died in New Orleans over twenty years ago… and again here in Los Angeles earlier this year."
"Huh?"
Without regard for the gaping mouth of the thoroughly confused jail secretary, he slipped a tiny steno pad from his shirt pocket and jotted down a few notes. He wrote the time she arrived, the time she left, and the name of the inmate she had visited. "Damn," he mumbled, scribbling down the name of the visited party – Ricardo Gomez.
