Chapter Fifteen
Lusinda had spent the night at her own apartment near the Garden District because she had no place else to go. She’d called O’Reilly again to explain about being locked out of her apartment by the landlord. She’d tried—she’d really tried—to tell him about Rick finding out she was a cop, but she couldn’t. She had to talk to Rick first. She figured he hadn’t said anything to his bosses either, because if he had, they’d have been all over the Bureau of Public Integrity and O’Reilly would have been all over her.
She got another cash advance on her credit card and managed to get her apartment back, so it was business as usual, except that she was walking on eggshells, wondering when Rick was going to out her as a cop. Working her shift was brutal, with Rick alternately staring at her and ignoring her, and the other waitresses teasing her about having an argument with him, as if they were lovers.
Which they were not! What had happened between them was an aberration. The dark rain, the drowsy day and their close quarters had combined in the perfect proportions to cause an explosion. That the explosion had manifested as sex was just a toss of the dice. It could have easily culminated in a shouting match.
Finally, it was midnight, the end of her shift, and Lusinda breathed a sigh of relief. She could get away from Rick and get back to her apartment at the Ace Hotel. When she got her handbag out of the locker, her phone was dead. She’d get home and plug it in before she fell asleep.
As she passed the second-floor landing on her way up to her place on the third floor, she glanced at Rick’s door. It was slightly ajar. A sliver of light cut across the floor of the dimly lit hallway. Had he been in a hurry when he left for work and not pulled the door closed? That wasn’t like him.
Lusinda’s police-trained brain assessed the situation. Approach with caution. Someone could be inside. She didn’t have a weapon, nor could she whip out her badge.
She approached the door quietly, setting her back against the wall as she sidled closer. She took hold of the knob and used it as leverage as she peered around the edge of the door. She almost shrieked in shock. Carlos Montoya was lying on the floor of Rick’s living room, ominously still.
Then she saw the shadow. Someone was standing over him. Lusinda jerked her head back and tried to sneak away from the door but it was too late. Before she could take a second step, a large hand grabbed her upper arm and jerked her backwards, into the living room.
“No!” she cried as he slammed the door. “Help!” She filled her lungs to scream but the man jerked her by her arm and punched her in the stomach. All her breath whooshed out and her body jack-knifed. The blow hurt like hell. She couldn’t make her lungs work and she couldn’t straighten, because her muscles were in spasm. Still, she did her best to throw herself away from him, toward the door.
But she was too slow. He was on top of her. He straddled her back and shoved her face into the hardwood floor. She gasped desperately, sucking in dust and dirt. She still couldn’t catch a full breath, so she worked to get her arms under her, hoping to get some leverage against his weight. But he was much bigger than she was, and with no oxygen in her lungs, she didn’t have enough strength or traction to fend off a mosquito bite.
His hand left her head. She lifted it but a sharp stinging on the side of her neck surprised her.
“Ow! No!” she huffed, struggling against his weight. She tried again to use her arms. It was no use, so she used the only other weapon she had—her head. She jerked it backward as hard as she could—and collided with his head. It hurt like the devil but it must have worked. He grunted in pain and rolled away from her.
Immediately, she rolled in the other direction and used the momentum to leap to her feet—or at least she tried. She was still bent forward from the pain in her belly. Her head throbbed from its collision with his. She could barely get enough oxygen into her lungs to keep from passing out. But she tried to rush him, not really expecting to be able to do anything.
He scoffed at her and held out a hand to push her away, but she ducked and came up between his arms and his chest. She shoved the palm of her hand up into his nose with all the strength she had left. He roared with pain and rammed her against the wall. Then he bolted for the door.
Lusinda’s legs melted and she felt herself sliding down the wall. Pushing away, she managed to take half a step before her legs gave way. Her head felt as though it was floating far above her body. She reached out to steady herself against the wall, but the wall wouldn’t stay still. It hovered just out of her reach.
Something strange was happening to her. Stranger than her floating head and the elusive wall. Her heart was stuttering, faster than she’d ever felt it. Her eyes were blurry, or closed. She wasn’t sure. Her tongue quivered in the back of her mouth. Somewhere out in front of her she could see Carlos, but he apparently wasn’t feeling right either. He was taking a nap.
“C-carlo, wate ut,” she said, but he didn’t pay any attention to her. “Carl—” She lost her breath. “Way—unph.” The floor was calling her. Her legs were melting again. She collapsed next to Carlos, feeling her heart racing even faster. So fast she couldn’t keep up with it.
*
As soon as Rick stepped inside the lobby of the Ace Hotel, he heard a scuffle coming from the direction of the second floor. He took the stairs two at a time. Had Carlos gotten into an argument with another resident, or was it drunks arguing or a couple in a knock-down-drag-out?
When his head rose over the landing, he saw that his apartment door was open. He thought he saw something or someone lying on his living room floor. A third person—a hefty man with blood dripping from his nose down his face, neck and shirt—stumbled out the door, coughing and cursing. Rick vaulted up the rest of the stairs and before the man focused on him, Rick had him in a headlock. He punched him twice in the kidneys. The man grunted, then started heaving and splattering blood everywhere.
Rick risked turning him loose for a moment as he dug into his pants pocket for one of the zip ties he always carried, just in case. He rarely got to carry a weapon when he went undercover, but he’d refused to give up the thin plastic zip ties and duct tape he kept in his pockets. He’d carried those two items ever since his first undercover job, and they’d come in handy many times.
While the thug retched and groaned, Rick zip-tied his hands around the sturdy wrought-iron rails that lined the second-floor landing of the old hotel.
“You’re lucky I don’t just throw you over the rails,” he growled when the guy started yelling for help. Rick grabbed his hair and pulled his head back. “Make any more noise and I’ll stuff a rag in your mouth and duct tape over it. Want to try to breathe through that?” He squeezed the guy’s broken nose until he yelped in pain and shook his head, spreading more blood spatter.
Rick left him there and rushed inside. It was Carlos on the floor—and Sin. He pulled out his cell phone. “Sin!” he cried, then heard the dispatcher. “Yes, Rampart and Iberville Street, the Ace Hotel, second floor. Three injured. Need ambulances—” he paused for a second “—and police.”
He hung up the phone and started toward Sin, who had propped herself up on her elbow. “Sin?”
“Better,” she mumbled. “A li’l goofy. Carlo? Dead?”
Rick quickly checked Carlos’s pulse and cursed. “Ah, Carlos. I’m sorry.”
He turned back to Sin. Her head was drooping. “Sin!” he snapped.
Her head rose slowly and she opened her eyes. “Hey, Rick,” she muttered.
She was drugged. “Sin, what happened? Wait.” He noticed something shiny on her neck. Not a necklace. Reaching out, he touched it. “Sonofabitch!” It was a needle with an off-white suspension dribbling out of it.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “Sin! Talk to me.”
“Hey, Rick. I am.” Her eyes were closed.
“Look at me.”
“Don’ feel good,” she mumbled and went limp.
“No! Sin!” At that moment, he realized he heard sirens. “Come on!” he yelled at them. “Come on!”
“What’s all the racket?” a gruff voice yelled.
“Nothing!” Rick shouted. “Just a misunderstanding.”
“Well shut the eff up!” The door slammed.
Within minutes, the EMTs were rushing up the stairs. They began to focus on the bloody-nosed murdering fool, but Rick grabbed one of them. “In here. Overdose. Not him, he’s dead. Her.”
He watched, feeling more helpless than he’d ever felt in his life, as the EMTs quickly assessed her, started an IV and administered a narcotic antagonist.
They were handling Sin, so he tore his gaze away from her and started searching the floor. “Here it is!” he cried, automatically reaching for his pocket before he remembered that the pocket where he normally carried gloves was empty.
“What?” the woman who appeared to be the head EMT asked.
“The syringe. The needle is still in her neck.” He touched the syringe with his toe. “It’s the bad dope. Look, it’s not empty!”
She looked at the floor. “Don’t touch that,” she cried. She’d been talking over a mic to the physician on call ever since Rick had said overdose. “Did you say bad dope?”
The physician on the speaker said, “Did he say bad dope? Carfentanil?”
“And heroin,” Rick said, nodding.
“Who is that?” the physician asked.
“I’ll answer your questions once we’re at the hospital.” He heard sirens again. It was a second ambulance and the police.
“Let’s get her down the stairs and into the bus,” the head EMT said to the other two. “Come on. We’ll get her on a respirator as soon as she’s inside. Move it!”
“I’m going with you,” Rick said, heading down the stairs, hoping to avoid the police, who were almost there, judging by the sirens. The odds were extremely high that at least one of the cops would know him. He jumped into the first ambulance, prepared to do whatever he had to do in order to stay with Sin until he was sure she was out of danger.
*
Lusinda woke up to a subdued blue glow. She lifted her hand to rub her eyes and felt a sharp pain on the back of her wrist. She looked down. It was an IV. The tube looked big enough to drink a soda through. In front of her bed was a smeared whiteboard with the date and four sentences written on it.
Good Morning.
Today is Wednesday.
Your nurse today is Judy.
Your aide today is Terry.
Hospital. But why? She started to lift her hand again, but a stinging tug reminded her that she couldn’t. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop the pain that was centered behind them and shooting backward down her neck. Even blinking hurt. She was really thirsty too. A tray table holding the ubiquitous plastic cup with a plastic straw wasn’t very far from the bed, but it was on her left side and her IV-bound hand wouldn’t reach that far. Besides, every movement hurt. She was sore all over.
With a groan, she settled back into the bed. If she couldn’t have any water, she’d go back to sleep. She’d just dozed off when a discreet knock on the door woke her. A youngish woman in pink scrubs peeked around the door. “Hi,” she said. “I saw from the monitor that you’re awake.” She walked into the room and over to the bed.
Lusinda’s eyes flew open. “You’re watching me?”
“No.” She laughed. “We can monitor your vital signs from the nurse’s station. I saw your increased activity. It’s just a precaution, until the doctor is sure that everything is back to normal.” She checked Lusinda’s plastic hospital bracelet, then looked at the IV port. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Lusinda,” Lusinda said. “Sometimes I’m called Sin.”
“Great. Do you know where you are?”
“Hospital?” Lusinda asked.
“What about how you got here. Do you remember?”
She shook her head. “I remember sirens, but no. Nothing until just now.”
“Your vitals are getting better, so once the doctor finishes rounds this morning, I feel sure he will take you off the monitor when he sees you today. Okay, IV looks good. I’m Leona. I’m your nurse for today.”
“You’re not Judy?” Lusinda asked tiredly, looking at the whiteboard.
“Judy?” The nurse followed Lusinda’s gaze. “Oh, that was yesterday.” She rubbed out Judy’s name with the side of her hand and wrote Leona. Then she wiped away the name Terry and wrote Renee. “Today is Thursday, not Wednesday.” She changed that as well.
“Could I have some water, Leona?”
“Sure, honey. Let me move the table around so you can reach the cup.” She rolled the table around the bed and made sure Lusinda could reach it.
Lusinda took the plastic cup and drank through the straw. The water was cold and refreshing. It had a bit of a stale taste to it, as if it had originally been ice that had melted, but she didn’t care. Her mouth was so dry she’d found it hard to talk. “Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome, honey. Has anyone talked to you about what happened to you?”
Lusinda shook her head. “You’re the first person I’ve talked to, that I remember. I know somebody stabbed me with a needle.” She touched her neck with her fingers.
“That’s right. You actually received an injection of heroin and carfentanil.”
Lusinda’s head snapped up. “Bad dope? I got bad dope? Shouldn’t I be dead now?”
Leona’s eyes blinked rapidly for an instant. “Well, I wouldn’t put it that way, but there is the danger that the combination of those two drugs could be fatal. But thanks to the man who called 911, the EMTs took care of you and got you here. Apparently, you didn’t get a full dose.”
“Do you know who called?”
“No, but he saved your life.”
Lusinda closed her eyes. She felt like she’d wandered onto a stage and found herself the star in a play she’d never rehearsed or even read.
Leona checked the IV bag. “Okay. I was told to notify the police as soon as you’re awake. I’ll pass that information along to the day shift and they’ll call them. Feel like talking to them?”
Lusinda rolled her head back and forth against the pillow. “No, but I know I have to. I’m sure they’re hoping to figure out who did this. Oh! What about Carlos? The man who was on the floor. I was afraid he was dead.”
Leona’s mouth kept smiling but her eyes turned sad. “I’m sorry. He didn’t make it. Was he a good friend of yours?”
Lusinda shook her head. “No. I barely knew him. I found him there.”
“He was pronounced dead on the scene,” Leona said. “Now,” she said, looking at her watch. “I’m about to go into the shift change meeting. I can tell the day shift nurse whether or not you want to talk to the police, but if you want my opinion, you should talk to them soon. You’re not going to remember everything, but the longer you wait, the more confused you’ll get.”
Lusinda didn’t want to talk to just anybody. She wanted Deputy Chief O’Reilly. She knew him. He’d be on her side. If she talked to anyone else, she wouldn’t know what to tell them. She needed a little time to figure out what she was going to say. “Could you wait?” she asked Leona.
An hour or so later, a physician came in with a gaggle of medical students trailing behind. The physician asked one of the students to sum up Lusinda’s case and he did. She listened, not finding much she could identify with in the sterile recitation of facts. The physician checked her IV, her vital signs, then took a pocket flashlight and shone it into her eyes, then away. In, then away.
“Her vitals are good and her pupil reaction is approaching normal. She can be discharged as soon as the paperwork is processed. You’ve all read the admission and progress notes, so you know she will be discharged into the hands of the NOPD. Does anyone know why?”
A couple of students raised their hands. “To be held until they find out who gave her the heroin?” suggested one.
“No,” a second student said. “She’s a material witness to the death of the other victim.”
“You’re both sort of right, but the main reason she’s being released directly to the police department is because she’s an officer with the NOPD, and they wish to ensure her safety.”
The medical students were visibly impressed and began muttering to each other.
“That information was in the admission notes,” the doctor said archly. Then, in a commanding voice: “All right, let’s move along.” Obediently, the students turned and headed out of the room.
Lusinda didn’t have the courage or the strength to ask him when the police were coming to pick her up, so she just waved wanly at the last student who went through the door. The nurse’s aide, Renee, came in later with a liquid diet lunch and Lusinda drank a glass of tea and ate some green gelatin, but she wasn’t hungry and soon, she was nodding off to sleep again.
When she woke up, Deputy Chief O’Reilly was sitting in the visitor’s chair beside her bed. She blinked at him a couple of times, trying to get her bearings. She’d been dreaming. She and Carlos were on the run. Something was chasing them, but she couldn’t tell what it was. It was large and dangerous, and she knew if it caught them it would kill them. She passed Rick, who barely looked at them. She spotted the Ace Hotel in front of her but there was no door, so she had to keep running. Then the awful thing that was chasing them caught Carlos and he went down. That’s when she woke up.
“Hey,” O’Reilly said. “You okay? You were muttering in your sleep.”
“Yes,” she said. “I was running from something. I think it was the bad dope. It almost caught me.” She gave a short laugh but O’Reilly didn’t smile.
“Yeah,” he said. “It almost did. What the hell were you doing?”
Lusinda blinked. Why was he yelling at her?
“A few more minutes and you would have died.”
She nodded ruefully. “I know. I saw Carlos lying there. I didn’t know if he was dead or alive. I might have been able to save him.”
“Officer Johnston, you know basic procedure,” he admonished. “You don’t enter a potentially dangerous situation without backup. Why didn’t you call 911? Or me?”
“My phone’s dead,” she said. “I think I left my phone cord in Rick’s apartment.”
O’Reilly’s eyes narrowed. “In Easterling’s apartment?”
She nodded without looking at him.
“Okay, well.” He stood. “You’re going to be asked all these questions and more down at Headquarters. There’s no reason for me to make you answer them here. I’ll get the nurse.”
Lusinda spent two hours being interrogated by O’Reilly in his official capacity as the Chief of the Bureau of Public Integrity, by Detective Lieutenant Dwight Larsen of the Eighth District, and by the Commander of the Homicide Division. O’Reilly insisted on staying in the room during the entire interrogation and several times, he stopped the other two from getting too personal or critical.
Finally, the interrogation was over and Lusinda and O’Reilly sat in the room alone. Lusinda was so tired that all her muscles were quivering. She wished she were back in the hospital where she could sleep and people would bring her water and lime gelatin. There, except for taking her temperature and checking her IV, nobody bothered her.
Using her thumb, she smoothed the bandage on the back of her hand where the IV had been hooked up, carefully avoiding the sore place in the center. Then she looked up at the large mirror, which she knew was one-way glass. “Do you think they’re watching us?”
“No. Nobody’s watching us. Why? Is there something else you want to tell me?”
Was there? She closely examined the bandage to be sure there was not one single wrinkle in it. O’Reilly had told her on the drive over here that she should be totally honest and answer all questions truthfully, even the ones about the undercover operation. She’d done her best, but she had not revealed that she and Rick had slept together. If Rick wanted to tell them, she couldn’t stop him, but she wasn’t going to. Not yet. It had nothing to do with her assignment or his. It had been stupid, but it hadn’t hurt either of their cases. Had it?
“Lusinda? You’re holding something back, aren’t you?”
“What?” She looked up at him and realized she hadn’t answered his earlier question. “No,” she said. “I’m just exhausted. I think I’m falling asleep with my eyes open.” She chuckled, but O’Reilly’s face didn’t change.
“Okay,” he said, sounding disappointed. “It won’t be much longer. Once we’re done, I’ll get one of the female officers to take you to your apartment. My wife picked up a few things for you. They’re in my car. Juice, eggs, coffee, stuff like that. I wasn’t sure what you’d have on hand since you haven’t been staying at your own place.”
“Thanks,” she said. “I appreciate it. Tomorrow morning I’ll go back over—”
He held up a hand. “Lusinda. Officer Johnston. I have something I need to tell you.” He sat a little straighter in his chair. “You’re off the case.”
Lusinda’s brain took a half a second to process what he’d said. “Off the case? You’re firing me?”
He smiled. “No. Nobody’s firing you. Why would you think that?”
She shrugged. “I haven’t been able to prove anything about Rick. I have not witnessed him doing anything illegal or even questionable. Apparently, either he’s not dirty or I’m no good at undercover work. Will you be sending me back to Baton Rouge or—?” As she asked that question, she realized that she wasn’t as homesick as she’d thought she’d be. She missed Vic, her partner, but she didn’t miss the midnight shift or the sadness she felt when she walked into the police station and saw her dad’s picture on the wall with the other fallen officers.
“Lusinda. Listen to me. As of yesterday, when you were brought into the hospital, you’re officially on sick leave while you recuperate from the effects of the drugs in your system. I managed to keep you off administrative leave, since the suspect’s fingerprints are on the syringe and yours are not.”
“What about him? Did he confess to killing Carlos?”
“He’s being arraigned. The DA is offering him a plea deal in return for his testimony about the bad dope.”
“Is he going to take it?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Sir, please, I don’t want to be on sick leave,” Lusinda said. “I want to keep working on the case. I feel responsible for Carlos’s death. I should have been able to do more.”
“You smashed the guy’s nose. I’m not sure how much more you could have done.”
She shook her head. “Please don’t make me take sick leave.”
O’Reilly patted her hand. “Rest and enjoy yourself. Watch some movies.” O’Reilly swallowed, probably because of the look she was giving him.
“Watch some movies? With all due respect, I’m a police officer.”
“And this is protocol for police officers.”
She put her head in both hands and blew out her breath in an exasperated sigh.
“You’re exhausted and it’s going to take you more than a couple of days to get back to normal. By the way, I need you to remain here in New Orleans for the present time. You’re still detailed here, at least until you’re recuperated. You’ll get a call about a doctor’s appointment in about a week or so. At that time, they’ll tell you how much longer you’ll need to be off work. Now, let’s get you signed out of here and to your apartment. I’ll find that female officer.”
Lusinda took a long breath. She knew she was acting like a kid who’d been given detention. But O’Reilly was right. She was exhausted, and it was obvious that the drugs had dulled her brain. But there were a couple more things she needed to know. “Wait a second. I need to—I need to ask you something.”
O’Reilly checked his watch. “Yeah, sure.”
“So Rick is continuing his investigation?”
“Officer Easterling is still on the case. Detective Lieutenant Larsen doesn’t want to lose the inroads he’s made. To pull him out of Beauregard’s now would be an unnecessary interruption and would put him under suspicion from the very people we are infiltrating. Also, we’re temporarily suspending our internal investigation of Easterling. We’re shorthanded and he risked exposing himself to help you and Carlos. He’s the one who found you. He called in the 911, although he didn’t stay around to talk to the police.”
“He left the scene?” That surprised Lusinda. “To protect his cover?”
“Actually, he rode to the hospital in the ambulance with you.”
“Oh.” Lusinda’s legs gave way and she collapsed back against the straight-backed chair. “Why?” she muttered. “Why would he do that?”
“Maybe because he was worried about you,” O’Reilly said wryly. “Now, before we go, are you sure there’s nothing else you need to tell me? Anything that might affect Easterling’s assignment? Or anything you know that you haven’t mentioned yet?”
Lusinda closed her eyes. She was so tired she felt like crying. Her eyes stung and dampness seeped out through her lashes. “I’m really tired,” she said. “I don’t have anything else to say.”
O’Reilly sat there for a moment, then pushed back his chair. “I’ll get the officer to take you home.” He sounded disappointed.
“Thank you,” Lusinda said tightly. How was she going to survive for the next week or more, with nothing to do but think about everything she’d done wrong?