They moved Shelly to a room around midnight. They’d wrapped her rib cage to reinforce the cracked rib. She had two stitches in her upper lip and four in her lower. The rat bites were being treated and she was getting meds to treat the infection. Her eyes had been cleaned and doctored, and her body was regaining some normal readings as rehydration continued.
Several nurses had found fleas in her hair and had offered to shampoo and treat the scalp before moving her upstairs. Shelly was so horrified throughout the process that she couldn’t stop crying.
Jack stood by her side, holding her hands and talking to her throughout the whole process about the stakeout he’d been on when he got bedbugs.
He had the nurses laughing about all the treatments he did on the rooms trying to get rid of them, and how he finally gave up, shaved his head and walked out of the stakeout apartment, leaving everything behind. He elaborated enough about some guys from the Bureau picking him up and dropping him off at an ER wrapped up in a sheet one of them had brought from home that they were all laughing in hysterics.
Shelly was even distracted enough by the story that the nurses were completely through with the third shampoo and the scalp treatment before she knew it.
She squeezed Jack’s hand. “You never told me about that.”
“I was afraid you’d never let me back in the house,” Jack said.
Shelly moaned, stifling laughter, as Jack lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.
Now they were upstairs, and the overstuffed recliner the orderly just brought to her room was for Jack. They added a pillow and a blanket and showed him how it reclined all the way back for sleeping.
Nurses came and went. The pain meds they had given Shelly finally began to take effect as she fell asleep. Finally the room was in shadows, except for a small light on the far side of her bed, and the lights on the machines hooked to her body.
Jack shoved the recliner close enough to the bed that he could hear her breathing, and only then closed his eyes.
* * *
Shelly’s kidnapping was on the early-morning news, along with an interview of their neighbor Barb Hightower, who’d witnessed it happening. No one knew Jack’s part in her recovery. Only that she’d been rescued by members of the FBI. There was mention made of closing the case on the stolen military weapons, and the last man connected to the case being in custody and charged with his brother’s murder.
It was the subject of conversation for many Houstonians over their breakfasts, but no one was more horrified than Mitzi Shaw.
After the mess their daughter had gotten them into, she was certain their life was never going to be the same. And now this happened. Suddenly, their troubles seemed petty and small.
She called her boss, Willard Bates, to tell him what she’d learned.
“Thank you for the heads-up,” Willard said. “But I’m already on it. Her husband actually called me this morning. Can you believe this? He’s actually a federal agent! He survived being shot and went into hiding, trying to find the man who got away from that weapons bust last week. The man wanted revenge against Jack and kidnapped Shelly to draw him out.”
Mitzi gasped. “Oh my God! That sounds like something out of a movie. Not a thing that happens to people we know.”
“Life always imitates art. This is no exception,” Willard said. “I’ve already called in a temp to cover Shelly’s clients, but from what I understood, her healing involves time and way more than physical injuries.”
Mitzi started crying. “I’m so glad this is over and they’re both still alive.”
“Yes, well, I’ll see you at work?” he asked.
“Yes, of course. I’ll be there,” Mitzi said, then hung up and went to blow her nose.
Then she called the hospital, only to learn there had been a No Visitors order put on Shelly’s care. Mitzi cried all the way to work and kept thanking God that her husband sold shoes in a department store for a living.
* * *
Angelique heard about the arrest on the news as well and was greatly relieved to know that Adam Ito would be in prison for the rest of his life. She would not have wanted him to know she had anything to do with getting him caught.
She was also thrilled to find out that Jack McCann’s wife was alive and in the hospital. It pleased her greatly that she’d helped make that happen.
So she began the day in her office by removing Adam Ito’s name from her records, along with expunging all of the information she’d kept on him. She didn’t trust the law or the government, and she feared if they found out she’d done any kind of business with him, that it wasn’t above them to somehow include her in the indictments against Ito, just because they could.
By noon, she was puttering about in her kitchen, making herself a cup of tea to go with a cold shrimp salad, when her doorbell began to ring. She wiped her hands and then fluffed up her hair as she moved through the penthouse apartment. Once she got to the front door, she peered through the peephole. It was Henry, the downstairs doorman, holding a huge bouquet of flowers.
She turned the dead bolt, removed the chain and then opened the door. “Good afternoon, Henry. You shouldn’t have.”
He grinned. “Afternoon, Miss Angelique. This just came for you, and the instructions from the florist said to put these in your hands only.”
Angelique smiled and grabbed a ten-dollar bill from a jar of money on the hall table that she kept for tips.
“Thank you for bringing them up.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Henry said, then handed her the vase and pocketed the tip. “Have a nice day,” he added, and went back down in the elevator.
Angelique kicked the door shut behind her, turned the dead bolt and put the chain back on the door.
“Now, let’s see what we have here,” she said, as she carried them to a side table in her living room to remove the card.
Thank you, lady.
J.
Angelique smiled. It had been a while since anyone had called her a lady.
“You are so welcome, Jack McCann.”
* * *
On the morning of Shelly’s second day in the hospital, the phone rang in her room. The swelling was going down in her eyes enough that she could see a little bit from one eye, and even more from the other, and when Jack didn’t immediately appear, she managed to answer the phone.
“’Lo,” she said, then winced as the skin pulled around the stitches on her lips.
There was a brief moment of silence, then a voice in whispers, sounding as raw as hers felt.
“Shelly? This is Alicia. Please don’t hang up.”
The skin crawled on Shelly’s head. She was still trying to come to terms with how horribly their friend Charlie had betrayed them, when it dawned on her that he had betrayed his wife and child even worse.
“I...here. Can’t talk much...stitches.”
Alicia moaned. “Oh my God, I am so sorry, Shelly. I don’t even know what to say except that my heart is broken for what you and Jack endured. I need you to know that I didn’t know this was happening. I would have told. I would never have been a part of such treason.”
“Unnerstood,” Shelly said. “Not your fault.”
Alicia was crying softly now, trying to talk through tears.
“I’m moving back home with Mom and Dad for a while. They live in Pasadena. I doubt we’ll ever cross paths again, but I couldn’t bear for you to think I just skipped out on you guys without calling. It would seem like I didn’t care about what happened, and at the same time, I am ashamed to show my face.”
“So sorry,” Shelly said. “No...blame.”
Alicia sighed. “Thank you! You guys have a long and happy life. You deserve it.”
The line went dead before Shelly could say goodbye. She replaced the receiver and then leaned back. Maybe goodbye wasn’t a word that worked between them anymore.
But it made her remember something that happened to her when she was young.
She had just turned seven when she learned her best friend had moved away over Christmas vacation, and she came home from school in tears. Her mother sat down in the rocker and lifted Shelly into her lap and wrapped her up in their old green-and-yellow granny-square afghan. The comfort of her mother’s arms, the afghan tucked around her and the lull of the rocker was the medicine she needed. She remembered feeling her mother’s hands smoothing the curls away from her face, and how she leaned down and kissed her.
“You’ll make new friends,” her mother said. “That is how life works. Some people are meant to be in your life for a while, and then they leave, while others will be with you always.”
Shelly remembered falling asleep within the warmth of her mother’s arms, and the smell of camphor from the afghan up her nose. That was how she felt right now. Sad, but accepting that Alicia had been a passing-through friend. Not the kind meant for staying.
Then the door opened, and Jack walked in. She was still getting used to the short hair and dark beard, but he could never disguise his voice and those eyes from her.
“Hey, baby. I was at the nurses’ station. The doctor left orders that if you don’t have any kind of setbacks today, he will let you go home in the morning.”
Shelly clapped her hands. It hurt too much to smile, and Jack was still talking.
“Barb Hightower called the nurses’ desk while I was there. She was going to leave a message for me to call her, but as luck would have it, I was already there.” He sat down on the side of her bed. “She wants you to know that she and her neighbor Ginny went over to our house and cleaned up the blood from where you were attacked. Your purse and keys were on the floor where you dropped them. Barb took your stuff, locked the house back up for you and is keeping them safe until you come home.”
“Oh...never thought! Thank her?”
“Yes, I did, and I don’t think I told you yet, but Barb witnessed your abduction. She saw it from the beginning, when Ito rolled under the garage door as it was going down, to them driving away. She was on the phone with 911 when they began backing out, and when she ran out shouting at them to stop, Ito shot at her.”
Shelly’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Hurt her?”
“No, she hit the ground before he fired, but if it hadn’t been for her, it might have taken us longer to find you. She gave us the identities and the getaway car.”
Shelly patted his hand, then touched her heart.
“Yes, I’m grateful, too,” he said. “I’ll tell her for you.”
Shelly nodded, then took his hand and laid it against her heart.
“Love you,” she said, then winced again as the stitches pulled.
“I already know how much you love me,” he said. “You suffered all of this because you wouldn’t tell him I was alive.”
She reached for his hand. “God gave you back. Couldn’t lose...again.”
Jack groaned and lifted her hand to his lips.
They had been given a second chance. He would never put her in danger again.
* * *
It was the duty of Homicide detectives to notify next of kin when a body was discovered, and it had fallen to Homicide Detective Ryan Trotter of the Houston PD to locate and notify Yuki Ito’s next of kin, even if it meant a phone call to Toyko, Japan. Just getting the number had been a hassle, and he also had to find a Japanese translator to deliver the news. Then Trotter looked up from his desk. That someone had just arrived.
“Detective Trotter?”
Trotter stood up to greet him. “Yes, I’m Trotter.”
“Officer Michael Mendoza, Pasadena PD. My mother is Japanese. I speak it fluently. They said you need a notification of death made to Toyko?”
Trotter nodded and handed him a typewritten page of info.
“Take my seat. I’ll stand by in case they have questions for you.”
“Yes, sir,” Mendoza said, and sat down in the detective’s chair to make the call.
* * *
Ken Ito was spending a rare night at home with his wife. Ever since the renunciation of his sons, she had taken to her bed in grief. She wouldn’t talk to him and was refusing to eat. At first he’d ignored it, thinking she would come to accept what must be, but it was becoming apparent that he’d been wrong. She was all the family he had left now, and he could not bear to lose her, too.
He’d spent the evening at her bedside, trying to coax her to eat, then reading to her from Kokoro by Soseki Natsume. It was one of her favorites, but he didn’t think she could hear him over the scream in her heart.
He heard their phone ringing but ignored it, knowing one of the servants would answer. What he hadn’t expected was the sound of running feet and then a quick knock at their door. He frowned. They’d been told he was not to be disturbed.
He laid the book aside and went to the door, ready to chastise whoever dared defy his orders.
Their maid was rattled, her voice was shaking as she continued to apologize over and over for disturbing them, and then she got to the point. There was a call for him from the Houston Police Department in the United States of America. He must come, she said. “It is urgent,” she said. “They are on hold,” she said.
“Stay with her,” Ken said, and went to his office to take the call.
He answered the call in English, then got his message in Japanese.
He stood without moving, hearing the words and knowing this news would end his wife’s life. And then he asked his first question in English.
“Where is his brother?”
“One moment, sir. I will let you speak to the homicide detective who worked the case. His name is Detective Trotter.”
Mendoza handed the phone to Trotter. “He wants to talk to you. He speaks English.”
Trotter took the phone. “This is Detective Trotter.”
“Detective, I have a question. How did this happen, and where is his brother, Sota?”
“Who?” Trotter said.
Ken sighed. For a moment he’d forgotten. “Adam. He calls himself Adam Ito.”
Trotter grimaced. This wasn’t going to make them happy.
“For the time being, Adam Ito is in a prison hospital. The brothers kidnapped a woman. We don’t know why it happened, but we do know that your son Adam Ito killed his brother, Yuki.”
Ken closed his eyes, but he couldn’t shake the image of what he was being told. He knew why the kidnapping had happened. Because he ordered it when he’d demanded Adam find his betrayer. And now one of his sons was dead. He took a deep breath.
“You said Sota killed him. How was Yuki killed?”
Trotter sighed. This man wanted all the ugly details. Some families did. Some families didn’t, but when they asked, they got the truth.
“He was shot in the back of the head.”
“And the woman they kidnapped?”
“She was left for dead with him. However, she did survive.”
“You said Adam is in a prison ward, recovering from his surgeries?” Ken asked.
“Yes, sir,” Trotter said. “They were wounds incurred when the FBI found him.”
“Of course,” Ken said.
“I am very sorry for your loss,” Trotter said. “Will you be claiming the body?”
Ken almost said no, and then it dawned on him that this might be what his wife needed. Even if Yuki was dead, she could still bring him home.
“We will be flying in within a day or so. Are you the one I contact when we come?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll help you through the process. If you give me an email address, I can send you the information.”
Ken gave him a household email and ended the call, then walked straight to the wet bar and reached for the bottle of sake.
He downed the first drink like medicine, tossing it back and swallowing without tasting. And then he poured a second drink, walked out to the koi pond bubbling near the stand of bamboo and stared down into the shadows.
The koi were in hiding. Just like his sons had been. The demand he’d made of them had ended Yuki’s life, and probably Sota’s, as well. His heart was aching as he looked up. The night sky was clear. The stars were bright and dazzling, as his sons had once been to him. Then he shook his head, accepting the weight of his decision.
“You were both men. You knew the consequences of your actions when you stole from me—from the cartel—and yet you did it anyway. You brought shame into this house...shame to me...shame to your mother...to the family name. But I am remembering you now as children who gave me such delight. It is the child I will visit in the hospital. It is the child whose body I will recover.” Then he lifted the glass of sake to the moon and poured it out onto the grass.
His steps were slow, his conscience heavy with the guilt of bringing them into the cartel life. Even though they had shamed their name, part of the shame was his.
He went back into the house, then returned to their suite. The maid left as soon as he returned, and he sat back down beside his wife’s bed. But he did not pick the book back up from which he’d been reading.
She’d given birth to them. It was her right to know their fate.
“Beloved, I have news I must share. It is about our sons.”
For the first time in days, she rolled over and met his gaze, her dark eyes questioning the look on his face. “That phone call was from the police in Houston, Texas. Yuki is dead.”
Silent tears rolled from her eyes. He saw the blame she directed at him, but she deserved to know all.
“The police did not kill Yuki. Sota did.”
She threw back the covers and sat up as the tears continued to fall. “They always fought. Adam was cruel as a child. Something is wrong with him.”
Ken did not disagree. “Adam is in a prison hospital, recovering from wounds gained during his arrest by the FBI. I must go to the States to claim Yuki’s body. I do not want to do this alone.”
She reached toward him, and when she did, he clasped her hand. “I will go with you,” she said. “We will bring our Yuki home together.”
He sat down beside her and took her in his arms, holding her as she cried. The weight of her long hair was heavy on his arms, but not as heavy as the guilt within his heart.
* * *
Adam had not expected to recover from his wounds like this. He had envisioned a sparkling facility with the latest in medical marvels that Texas had to offer. Not this drab prison hospital.
After he came out of surgery and had come to himself enough to know what was going on, he’d sent for his lawyer, only to be told the man wanted nothing to do with him. It had to do with the fact that the lawyer’s son was a soldier, and he wasn’t going to represent a man selling stolen military weapons on the black market.
Then he learned that Mahalo made a deal with the Feds and told them everything he knew about Adam Ito and his business, and in turn received a lighter sentence and a transfer to another facility.
No only did that piss him off, but it also left Adam with nothing. When you’re the top dog, you have no bargaining power. There was no one else to give up—not even the cartel. Other than the names, he knew nothing about their operations or how distribution was made, even though they ran everything from drugs and guns, to child prostitution and money laundering in places all over the world. They were already known by what they did, but hadn’t been caught in how they did it. That was him, before Jack McCann aka Judd Wayne showed up in his world, and look what happened.
Being flat on his back in a hospital bed left him plenty of time to think, but all he could focus on was the reality of spending the rest of his life behind bars.