High Noon (40 page)

“It's the best trauma center in the city.” Duncan laid his hands on her shoulders. “One of the best in the state. He couldn't do better.”

“No. I wish I could fall apart. I wish I could just fall apart until they come to tell me…We should've put cops on his house. Anyone who knows me knows what Dave is for me, what he is to me.”

“Take a minute.” Gently, Duncan turned her into his arms. “You can fall apart for a minute.”

She let herself cling, let herself shake. He was holding her, good, solid arms around her. “I'm so scared. I don't know what to do I'm so scared.”

“Just hold onto me until you figure it out.”

“Don't go anywhere, okay?” She gripped him tighter. “Will you stay with me?”

“Of course I will. Phoebe.” He put a hand under her chin to lift her face to his. “I'll be right here.”

She sighed, and laid her head on his shoulder. It was such a comfort, she realized, to have someone else be strong. To have someone else be the one who was right there.

“I thought I forgot how to need somebody to stay.” She eased back. “Lucky for me I remembered when the somebody can be counted on.”

She spotted Maggie coming out of a treatment room. “That's Dave's neighbor.” Phoebe blew out a long breath. “All right. Here we go.” She took two steps forward. “Maggie?”

At the sound of her name, Maggie jolted, looked over. Then, bursting into tears, all but fell into Phoebe's arms. “All right now. Hush now.” Even as Phoebe looked around for somewhere marginally private, Duncan had a hand on her shoulder to steer her and her charge toward some chairs.

“Y'all sit right here,” he told Phoebe. “I'll go hunt up some coffee.”

“Good, that'd be good. Maggie, I need you to stop crying. I need you to stop.” Firmly, Phoebe pulled back to take Maggie by both shoulders. “I need you to stop and talk to me.”

“David. I think he must be dead. Oh God!”

“Well, he's not. They took him up to surgery. They're taking care of him. Don't you start going hysterical on me again. I mean it. I need you to take some good, deep breaths. In and out. You
do
what I say, you hear? In and out. That's right. That's better. Now, you tell me what happened. Right from the beginning.”

“I don't
know.
” Tears still streamed as Maggie fluttered her hands. “I swear I don't know.”

“You tell me what you do know. You were with Dave, at his house?”

“No. Yes. I mean to say I'd been out with a friend—you met my friend Delly when David had that barbecue last summer? We went out for lunch, and a little shopping spree. I'd just pulled up at home, right before the storm, and I saw David.”

She covered her face with her hands, but Phoebe yanked them ruthlessly away. “I know you're upset, but you're going to keep talking, keep telling me. Where was Dave when you saw him?”

“Going up the walk to his front door. I beeped the horn, and he waved. I thought how he could help me carry my shopping bags in, so I beeped again, and got out right quick to hail him. It was thundering, and he was already unlocking his front door. But he turned around. He's such a sweetheart.”

Fighting for patience, Phoebe stuffed a wad of tissues in Maggie's hands. “He didn't go in the house?”

“He…He was coming back to help me. His door blew open. That's right, I remember how his door blew open. That wind came up so strong, and I guess he'd started to open the door before he turned back to help me. Then, oh my God, Phoebe, the door just exploded.”

After mopping her face with them, Maggie twisted the damp tissues into ropes. “I don't know exactly, I swear to God, I just don't. I fell—it was like being shoved. I fell down. My knees got all scraped up, and my arm—” She held out her arm to show the bandage. “Five stitches. But David…David.”

“Here you go, Phoebe.” Duncan came back with coffee. “Ma'am? I thought you might like some coffee.”

“Oh, isn't that nice.” Instinctively Maggie pushed at her hair. “Thank you so much. My goodness, I must look a fright.”

“You look just fine,” Duncan assured her as he set little tubs of cream and some sugar packets on the table between the chairs. “I didn't know how you like your coffee.”

“Plenty sweet,” Maggie said. “Oh, and you got the pink kind, too. Are you with the police?”

“No, ma'am. I'm just a friend. I'll leave you to talk to Phoebe.”

“Oh. Oh, could you stay? I can't help myself, I just feel more secure in times of crisis when there's a man around.”

“Maggie, this is Duncan. Duncan, why don't you sit down? Now, Maggie, how long was it from the time the door blew open until the explosion?”

“Oh goodness, I'm not sure. A few seconds. Maybe five? Ah, he stopped. Yes, that's right, David stopped and looked back when the door slammed open, and I think he started to go back and close it. I think he'd just started to take a step or two back toward the house when…Oh my God, Phoebe. If he'd gotten back—”

“He didn't. You calling him out to your car to help you saved his life. You think about that, Maggie. You called him away from that door, so he's upstairs getting fixed up.”

“Oh my.” Her face ran the gamut. Shock, horror, relief, pride. “I didn't even think of that. I've been so mixed up and scared.”

“You said you were out this afternoon. Did you notice anything, anyone, before you left?”

“No. I meant to leave at noon, but I was running a little late, so I didn't leave till about quarter after. And that Delly, she gives me such grief for being late, so I was in a rush. I can't say I was paying attention, so I don't think I'd have noticed anything.”

“How about during the morning?”

“I was inside all morning. I was on the phone with my mama awhile, which is why I was running late. That woman can talk. Then I dashed out and drove on out to the mall. I was barely late, but Delly gave me grief nonetheless.”

With a long-suffering sigh over that, Maggie sipped her coffee.

“Maybe you looked out the window while you were talking to your mother,” Phoebe suggested, “or saw an unfamiliar car or someone you didn't recognize when you dashed out to go to lunch.”

“I don't guess I saw a soul around the neighborhood this morning—one of those hot, oppressive days where nobody likes to walk around much. Oh, except for the UPS man.”

Reaching out, Phoebe clamped her hand on Maggie's wrist. “Where did you see the UPS man, Maggie?”

“Just coming down the street.”

“In his truck?”

“Ah, no. Did I see his truck? I just don't remember. I was in such a rush. I barely took a minute to wave at him and call out to ask if he had a package for me.”

“I imagine you see the UPS man several times a week around the neighborhood.”

“I suppose I do. This wasn't the usual one, though; this one was younger and cuter, so I yelled out my name, too, when I asked if he had something for me. He said no, ma'am. Not today. Then I just jumped in my car and lit out.”

“What did he look like, Maggie?”

“Well, he had dark hair and one of those scruffy little beards. Good legs. Strong-looking. I do tend to notice attractive young men,” she added with a smile for Duncan.

“How tall?”

“Hmm. I'm not sure. Maybe five-ten? Not as tall as Duncan here. Had a build on him. The regular UPS man, and he's a sweetheart, but he's on the plump side. This one looked like muscle.”

“How old?”

“Goodness, I didn't get a good, close look.” Maggie patted her hair as if it might help her think. “Thirty-five? Maybe a little more.”

“Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”

“I'm not sure. He was wearing sunglasses. Well, my God, Phoebe, do you think he had anything to do with what happened to David?” Her hand slapped to her heart. “Why, he could've killed me on the street! I was only a dozen feet away.”

“I don't know, but I'm going to want you to work with a police artist. I'm going to have an officer take you into the station house, and the police artist will meet you there. You sit here with Duncan while I take care of this.”

Maggie sat blinking while Phoebe sprang up and hurried away. “Well, sweet baby Jesus. I sure wish you had some bourbon to go with this coffee.”

“Next time,” Duncan promised, “I'll bring a flask.”

 

Once she'd arranged for the police artist and Maggie's transportation, Phoebe rode up to the surgical waiting area with Duncan. “There were no new carriers on that route today,” she told him. “And no deliveries on that block until after two this afternoon. She saw him, she spoke to him. But he wasn't worried about that.”

“A guy can grow a beard or shave it off.” Thoughtfully, Duncan rubbed his own chin. “Changes his look.”

“We've got a good artist. He'll reconstruct both ways. He had to know we'd get a witness. If not Maggie, someone else on the block could easily have seen him. He's smart enough to know that, but he's not that worried about it.”

She walked straight to the nurses' station when she got off the elevator. She showed her badge. “I need to know if there's any word on Captain David Mc Vee.”

“He's still in surgery.”

“I need someone to go in and check, to give me his status. Please.”

“I'll see what I can do. If you'd go into the waiting area, we'll let you know.”

There were half a dozen cops she recognized already in the waiting area. She made the rounds quickly, then positioned herself in a corner where she could see the door. “I need to make calls,” she told Duncan.

“You want coffee? You didn't drink any downstairs. I'd ask you if you want some food, but you're going to say no, so I won't.”

“I could use a cold drink. Apparently being scared makes everything hot inside me. I could use something cold. And, Duncan,” she said before he stepped away. “When I can think straight again, there are a whole bunch of things I have to say to you.”

“Would that include any comments or complaints about me not falling in line when so ordered?”

She worked up a smile, widened her eyes. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Good.” He touched her lips with his. “Then I'd like to hear them. Be right back.”

She had to call Sykes first and arrange for the canvass of Dave's neighborhood to add in the fake UPS deliveryman. She wanted, badly, to talk with the bomb squad and crime-scene supervisors herself, and had to remind herself she'd sent Sykes for a reason.

And since she couldn't will a nurse or doctor to come in and tell her everything was going to be just fine, she steadied herself, pulled out every ounce of optimism and made the next call.

“Ava.”

“God. Phoebe. Is he—”

“Dave's in surgery, and from everything I know it's going well.”

“Surgery! Oh my God, what happened? How did it happen?”

“I can't get into that now, but I want you to know, and to tell everyone, he's being taken care of.”

“I want to come down there. I want to see for myself. Carter, we had an awful fight about it. Phoebe, you can't expect me to stay here while Dave's hurt.”

“I have to expect it. I'm sorry. He'd expect it, too. He'd insist on it. Ava, I promise you, I
promise
you, you're the first person I'll call when he's out of surgery. I need you to take care of Mama. I need you to take care of everyone there. I'm depending on you.”

“That's an awful thing to say to me.” Tears drenched Ava's voice. “You know I will. But…please, tell him, tell him when you can that I'm—we're—praying for him.”

“I will. I'll call you as soon as I know anything more.”

Nearly another hour passed before they were given the stingy report that the surgery was going well.

An hour later, Sykes came in to give her a more inclusive one. “Trip wire on the door. Five-second delay.”

“He wanted Dave to get inside. Better chance of killing him if he was all the way in.” In a futile attempt to relieve the pressure in her head, Phoebe massaged the bridge of her nose. “What did he use?”

“Same as with Roy. Blew out the door, the front windows, part of the damn roof. Turned the living room into the third circle of hell. He'd been three feet closer, we'd be waking him, Lieutenant.”

“He's going to have to buy Maggie a truckload of flowers, then deal with her trying to get him naked. How about the canvass?”

“Most of the people on that block work during the day. Got one witness, guy who'd taken off to meet his plumber. He was watching out for him and saw the suspect walking up the street. Description's vague. He didn't really see anything but the UPS uniform. But the time matches Maggie's statement.”

He puffed out his cheeks. “Firefighters responded fast, and I'd guess they saved the house. But, well, Jesus, LT, it's a hell of a mess.”

“He loves that house,” Phoebe added.

“I know a guy,” Duncan put in. “He does good work. I could ask him to take a look at it, if that would help.”

“It might. One less thing for Dave to worry about.” She glanced toward the doorway again. “Yeah, it might help. Do we know how he got in?”

“How it looks is the back side window was forced open. He gained entry that way. Back door was unlocked, so he likely left through that, and didn't bother to lock it on the way out. That—”

He got to his feet an instant after Phoebe. It had to be one of the doctors, she thought. He had that weighty look about him.

She stepped forward. It wouldn't be rank that had her taking the lead. Every cop in the room knew it was personal.

“Dave Mc Vee,” she said. “I'm Phoebe Mac Namara.”

 

They'd stopped the bleeding, and saved his spleen. He'd suffered a bruised kidney, a broken arm, two cracked ribs and a concussion as well as lacerations and burns.