Power Play

Washington Memorial Hospital

Davis and Perry ran into the emergency room together, saw her mother standing in her blood-covered pajamas with a pair of sneakers on her feet, speaking to a nurse. Perry walked up to stand beside her and put her hand on her mother’s shoulder.

Natalie turned to her daughter, tried to smile and failed. “Hooley is being prepped for surgery. This is an experienced trauma center and one of their best surgeons happened to be finishing up surgery on a car accident victim. He’s scrubbing in right now. It was bad, Perry, the knife was in his chest, right over his heart. I knew better than to pull it out.” She swallowed, more words beyond her.

Perry held her close. “They got him here real fast, Mom. Hooley’s strong, he’s got a good chance, right? Come on, we’ll wait together.”

Davis said, “I called Savich, told him what happened. He decided there’s nothing to see tonight at the house, so he and Sherlock are coming straight here. He’ll go out with the FBI techs tomorrow morning, see if the guy left anything to help us.” He looked over to where a nurse was writing at the admissions desk, saw her glance up at Natalie and frown.

He patted Natalie’s shoulder and walked to the nurse. “What is it you’re not telling Mrs. Black? Is it about Hooley?”

Nurse Chambers looked at the tall young man standing in front of her, thought about sex, wished she was ten years younger, and realized she was so tired she was going bonkers. She cleared her throat. “No, there are no secrets here. It’s serious, I know, but Mr. Hooley is in Dr. Proctor’s very capable hands. It will be my job to check in with the OR and give you updates whenever I can. Are you Mrs. Black’s son?”

Davis pulled his creds out of his pocket. “Special Agent Sullivan. Then why were you frowning at Mrs. Black?”

“Well, I recognized her. Her photo’s been in the papers—about how her fiancé killed himself in England because of her, and she was called back to the United States—”

He cut her off. “Whatever you’ve read, Nurse Chambers, you should put away the frown, because that’s not what happened at all. She had nothing to do with her fiancé’s death. It is Mrs. Black who is under threat.”

Nurse Chambers blinked. “But it’s all over the Internet—”

“And you believe everything you read on the Internet?”

“Well, I suppose not. You’re really an FBI agent and she’s really in danger?”

Davis knew he should have kept his mouth shut. It would be hard enough to keep control of the press coverage as it was. He was a regular Don Quixote sometimes, trying to right wrongs in a world that too often didn’t care who was right and who was wrong. “Yes, I am, and yes, she really is. Mr. Hooley was knifed trying to protect her.”

Nurse Chambers nodded briskly. “Then we should get her out of the emergency room, I think. We have a small surgical waiting room that’s very private and out of the way. She’ll be safe there. If you would ask the ladies to follow me, I’ll alert security.” Davis stared after her as she walked smartly toward the telephone on the counter.

Nurse Chambers took them to a small green room on the third floor with a half-dozen green tweed chairs and a single stingy window that overlooked the parking lot. “I’ll have coffee and rolls brought up, all right? And I’ll come see you when I have any news on Mr. Hooley. Mrs. Black, I’ll bring you something to put over your pajamas.”

Twenty minutes later, after two detectives from Metro had left for the house, Savich and Sherlock walked into the room, their eyes on Natalie, on the soaked-through dried blood on her white lab coat. “Are you all right?” Savich asked her.

“Yes, yes. Thank you both for coming.” She stopped, drew a deep breath. “I already told Perry and Davis and the two detectives who were here, but I’ll tell you, too. Before Hooley blacked out, he told me the man had an odd gait, like one leg was shorter than the other. That was all he could tell me before he passed out. “I-I thought he was gone, that he was dead. There was so much blood.” She shuddered. “I think he wanted to tell me something else, but he couldn’t.” She raised her hands. “It’s still right there, Hooley’s blood under my fingernails. He can’t die, he just can’t.” Her breath hitched, and she lowered her face, looking down at her sneakers. Perry squeezed her hand. “Hooley will make it, Mom. You know how tough he is. Yes, he’ll make it,” and Perry prayed as hard as she’d ever prayed in her life.