Inspector Green Mysteries 9-Book Bundle (142 page)

By seven o’clock, Elgin Street Headquarters was teeming with people. Off-duty officers, on hearing the news, had reported in to learn the latest details, to volunteer for extra duty, or simply to be among their own. Coordination between the various police services involved had now gone up the chain of command to Barbara Devine, but when she phoned down to demand that Green come upstairs to a meeting with herself and the local brass from the military and provincial police services, he refused.

“I’ve got a critically injured officer landing at the Civic Campus in less than fifteen minutes. That’s where I’m needed, Barbara. You guys decide how this is going to be run.” He paused as he caught sight of Bob Gibbs pacing back and forth across the squad room, talking to a rapt group of detectives. It looked as if the whole Major Crimes Unit, and quite a few of the other units, had come to commiserate. Nothing was worse than an officer down. These guys needed to be involved. “Just make sure you put me on any joint task force you create.”

To her credit, Devine did not protest. It seemed even she understood this was one time when bureaucracy took a back seat. Green hung up, grabbed his jacket and headed out into the squad room to round up Gibbs. Throughout the entire car ride from Elgin Street to the Civic Hospital, the young detective talked non-stop, reviewing over and over the details of the investigation to date. His speculations made no sense, but Green let him talk. Exhaustion and self-recrimination would take over soon enough.

The helicopter was just flying into view when they drove up to the landing site, which sat at the edge of a field across Carling Avenue from the hospital. In the darkness, lights and vehicles appeared to be everywhere. A circle of lights marked the landing pad, and a ground ambulance sat by the tarmac, lights flashing and stretcher ready. Green had the ridiculous thought that it would probably be faster to wheel the stretcher across Carling Avenue to the hospital on foot.

At the entrance to the landing field, a burly ground crew worker flagged him to a stop, ignored Green’s badge and waved them over to the parking lot of the hospital emergency department across the street. “You’ll have to check in at Admissions, sir,” he shouted over the deafening roar of the helicopter. Dust and wind swirled in the air. “They’ll want some information.”

Green parked in a restricted area closest to the door, slapped a police sticker on the dash and led Gibbs inside to the Admissions Desk in Emergency, which was right next to the ambulance bay. Heavy metal swing doors separated the admissions area from the unloading area, however, so they only caught a fleeting glimpse of Peters’ still form as the stretcher whisked by. White coats swirled around her, and a man’s voice snapped out her vital signs. The flurry of activity was over as quickly as it blew up, leaving no one left to ask.

Green introduced himself to the admissions clerk and told her he’d like to speak to the doctor in charge as soon as he or she was available. The clerk gave him a brief, distracted nod before returning to her forms. The emergency room was filled with people slumped in chairs along the walls, talking in hushed whispers, reading, or simply staring into space. Several watched Green and Gibbs with idle curiosity.

They never did see an
ER
physician, but about fifteen minutes later, the air ambulance crew emerged from behind the steel doors and stopped by to give them a report on their way back out to the helicopter. They looked grim.

“She’s going straight up to surgery, sir,” said the senior paramedic. “The
OR
was all set up and waiting for her. But I don’t want to sugarcoat it. We got her here in very good time, and she had a carotid pulse when the surgical team took her up to the
OR
, and those are both positives. But she’s lost a lot of blood, and she sustained fairly extensive injuries to the head. Some bastard beat her up pretty bad.”

Green listened with grim calm. He had already heard about the beating from the Petawawa
OPP
, but Gibbs’s reaction stopped him from asking further details. The young man suddenly swayed on his feet, and Green and the paramedic dived to catch his arms before he slumped to the ground. Withpractised calm, the paramedic helped him to a chair, forced his head between his knees and ordered Green to get some water.

When Green returned with the water, Gibbs was hunched forward, clutching his head in his hands and rocking from side to side. “I should never have sent her alone. What was I thinking? I should never have sent her alone.”

Oh, shit, Green thought, the self-recrimination has started already. “And maybe I should never have gone to Halifax,” he interrupted. “But Bob—”

“You should never have put me in charge.”

Probably not, once I saw how ruthless the killer was, Green thought, but he forced his own self-doubts out of mind. He dragged out the only platitudes he could think of. Platitudes that had been fed to him six years earlier, and rang as true and as hollow now as they had then. “Bob, these things happen. We’re out there in danger every day. We make judgment calls on a wing and a prayer, and sometimes we’re wrong.”

“But I knew she was inexperienced. I-I just didn’t have the balls to tell her no. She wanted it so bad.”

“You followed proper procedure; you sent someone with her.”

“Another mistake. Where the f-fuck was Weiss when this happened to her?”

Where the fuck indeed, Green thought grimly. The man didn’t need to be a major crimes detective to know the basic premise of policing. Officer safety first. Never leave your partner’s back exposed. Constable Weiss had a hell of a lot to answer for when he finally made it back to Ottawa, no matter what his mental state.

For now it was a waiting game. The hospital directed them to a more private room up on the surgical floor, and officers drifted in and out in search of news and moral support. As the evening dragged on, one of Gibbs’s friends took him down to the cafeteria for some food and Green used the opportunity to duck outside and update Sharon.

The sky was clear, and a hint of frost clouded his breath, but he was glad of the fresh air. He shivered as he sat on the stone curb and filled her in. True to form, Sharon listened and said exactly what he needed to hear. Which was why he loved her, why he had fallen in love with her the first time he’d met her six years earlier, when she’d offered a listening ear to an overworked and overwhelmed sergeant dealing with the worst killing he’d ever encountered.

“The fact she’s still in the
OR
is a good sign, honey,” she said now. “It means she’s hanging in, and they’re stitching her back together bit by bit.”

Sucking in the cold, crisp night air, he managed a feeble laugh. “Let’s hope they find enough of the parts.”

“You always said she was one tough, tenacious broad.”

“But so young. So...blind.”

“This is not your fault, honey. You can’t control every single minute of every single case.”

“But the important ones, Sharon. The ones that could get my officers killed. I should control those.”

“So you’ve taken up clairvoyance now, besides trying to control everyone’s life?” Her soft chuckle sounded through the phone, but when she resumed, her voice was gentler. “I could come down there and bring you a cup of tea. Give you a hug. Out of view of the troops, of course. On a dark street corner somewhere.”

“A cup of tea and a hug would be wonderful. But I can’t leave here yet. Things have got to start happening soon.” He leaned back against the brick wall, picturing her tender chocolate eyes. “Sorry I missed
Shabbat
dinner. Did you pick up Dad?”

“Yes. He missed you, but you know how much he adores Hannah. He’d pinched her cheeks raw by the end of the night.”

“He’s the only one who could get away with that.” He felt a bittersweet pang. Hannah had been enchanted by her grandfather from the moment she’d laid eyes on him, but then her grandfather hadn’t deserted her sixteen years ago. He banished the twinge of envy; their domestic struggles seemed so inconsequential while Peters lay inside, dancing with death.

“Well, give her forty years, and you’ll have earned the right too,” she said.

He laughed as he hung up, his spirits lifted. Next he put in a call to update Barbara Devine and Gaetan Larocque, both of whom were still tied up in the meeting with the senior brass. When he returned to the waiting room, there was still no sign of the doctor, but there were half a dozen familiar faces. Gibbs was back, looking slightly less fragile. Perhaps some anger was beginning to take hold, for he marched straight over to Green. His jaw was tight.

“Weiss is here. Asked how she was, then walked off. Not a word of explanation. Not even an apology.”

“Did you ask him?”

“I can b-barely talk to the guy.”

“Where is he now?”

Gibbs nodded to a cluster of chairs at the far end of the room. Green turned to see a man leaning against the wall in the corner. His arms were crossed and his chin thrust out, as if in defiance. Green squared his shoulders and was just preparing to do battle when the swinging doors opened and two doctors emerged. They were dressed in stained hospital scrubs, and exhaustion was etched in their faces. The older, a man in his fifties with a polished bald pate and cadaverous cheekbones, introduced himself as Doctor Vargas and asked if the next of kin was present. To Green’s surprise, a young man rose from the corner. He was a male clone of Sue Peters, down to the frizzy red hair and the riot of freckles across his cheeks. Beneath the freckles, he was the colour of bleached flour as he approached the doctors.

“I’m her brother, Mark Peters. How is she?”

Vargas inclined his head noncommittally. “She’s a strong, healthy woman, and that’s got her this far. But her condition is still critical, and it will be touch and go for the next fortyeight hours. There are a few things we won’t know until she regains consciousness. If she does.”

“If?”

“She’s suffered significant trauma to the brain, and with brain injuries of this type, it can be weeks, even months, before we see the extent of the damage.”

A collective groan rose from the officers who had clustered around to hear.

“So you’re saying she could be...a vegetable?” Mark managed. His voice quavered.

“Let’s get her through the next forty-eight hours before we worry about that.”

Dr.Vargas went on to detail all the test results and surgical procedures they had performed, but after a while, Green’s mind glazed over. It really did sound as if they’d had to stitch her back together bit by bit.

After the doctor’s departure, friends and colleagues gathered in clumps to talk in hushed tones, and Green noticed that Weiss was no longer there. Curious, he set off in search, starting with the corridor next to where the man had been standing. That corridor ended in a bank of doors, all of which were locked.

He retraced his steps and tried another corridor, peeking into rooms along the way. Linen supplies, bathrooms, offices and more doors marked “authorized personnel only”. The corridor jogged and twisted at unexpected points, following the shape of the aging, multi-winged building. It came to an abrupt halt at a heavy steel door marked “exit”.

Green yanked open the door and peered down a flight of iron stairs into the semi-gloom. There, sitting in the middle of the bottom stair, was Constable Weiss, hunched over, staring at his shoes. He didn’t stir when Green clanged down the stairs, didn’t even raise his head, but Green saw that his whole body was vibrating. Green’s anger softened a touch.

“Jeff? What’s going on?”

“Needed some air.”

“I’m Mike Green, by the way.”

Weiss gave a strangled grunt. “I know who you are. Come to tell me I’m a fuck-up, a moron, a disgrace to the uniform?”

“What happened?”

“I told all that to the cops up in Petawawa.”

Green’s anger crashed back. He grabbed the man’s chin and jerked his head up to face him. “Listen, asshole, I don’t give a shit who else you told. I’m her superior officer, and you’re damn well going to tell me how you almost got her killed.”

To his surprise, Weiss’s eyes flooded with tears. He twisted his head away and dashed his knuckles across his cheeks. “Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Talk to me!”

“I can’t.” Weiss sucked in his breath and wrestled for control. “I don’t know what to say! I should have known it was a crazy idea, but she was the boss. No, that’s no excuse. I should have stopped her.”

“You should have backed her up!” Green thundered.

“It was a routine canvass. I thought she had everything under control.”

“Canvass of what?”

“Bars, restaurants... I took half, she took half.”

“Bars! Why the hell were you canvassing in bars?”

“We were trying to track the dead woman’s movements. Find out what she was after.”

“So you left Peters alone in bars?”

“It was three o’clock in the fucking afternoon!” Weiss shot back. “In a two-bit little town, not New York City.”

“A two-bit town that might just harbour our murderer.”

“Well, I—we—didn’t think of that.”

“You goddamn well should have!”

Abruptly Weiss sagged back against the step. Tears brimmed in his eyes again as he nodded his head up and down. “You’re right, you’re right. God, what a mess.” He plunged his face into his hands and began to rock.

Green watched him in silence for a few minutes. Weiss’s reactions puzzled him. Not the grief itself, not the guilt, not even the flashes of defensive anger. But the extremes of them all, and the erratic swings from one to another like a man ricocheting free fall from one violent feeling to the next. Was the man unstable? Or was he faking it?

Green squatted in front of him, willing him to return to the real world. He spoke grimly. “Jeff, tell me what you do know.”

Weiss stopped rocking but didn’t raise his head. Green waited, feeling the seconds tick by in the dank, ill-lit stairwell. Finally, Weiss heaved a deep, shuddering sigh and spoke through his hands.

“She dropped me at this bar and told me to meet her at the car by the hotel where the bus station was. There were only twelve places to canvass—the hotel, three shitty restaurants, a fast food joint, a convenience store, a couple of offices and banks. I was done my six in about half an hour, so I found the car and waited outside it for her to show up.”