Polly Iyer - Diana Racine 03 - Backlash (19 page)

L
ucier
floated somewhere above the earth. Everything was so clear, the continents and oceans, the rivers. Diana, her hand outstretched, beckoned him to come down from his lofty perch in the sky. He hovered over her, reaching for her hand, fingertips almost touching. He was an astronaut, an eagle; he was Icarus, flying near the sun without wings.

The big orange ball bathed his body in heat. Burning heat. He waved the sun away, but the rays seared his skin. The smell of scorched flesh, melting like Icarus’s wings, singed his nostrils. Tumbling to earth, he saw Diana, the goddess. His Diana. Fire consumed him. The devil’s fire.

Water. Head for the water.

Setting his sights on the ocean, he plunged in to dowse the flames.

Under, under, deep into the abyss, but the water was as blistering as the fiery sun. Boiling hot water.

Lucier bolted upright. The strange bedroom swirled until his eyes crossed. Drenched in sweat, he clutched at the gnawing pains in his stomach.

What’s happening to me?

He could ask that question a hundred times, but he knew. Fear stabbed him. He needed a bathroom. Swinging his legs to the side, he tried to stand.

Come on, Ernie. You can do it
.

Rubbery legs, arms too weak to push himself up. Room traveling in dizzying circles.

“Bathroom,” he yelled. Surely they wouldn’t let him fester in his own urine. “Bathroom.”

The door opened and a shorter, slighter hooded figure entered. Lucier wouldn’t try to pull off the hood. That would get him another shot.
No, play it smart. Regain your strength before you try anything
.

Without speaking, the man opened a door in the room to reveal a small bathroom. He gestured for Lucier to go in.

“You―you have to help me. I can’t walk.”

The man shook his head. He still didn’t say anything.

Lucier slid to the end of the bed so he could latch on to the bedframe and force himself to his feet. Panting, he stood for a moment to get his equilibrium. The room spun some more. Nausea attacked. He leaned over and retched a slimy bile. Pain from his wound pierced his side, and he couldn’t straighten. His empty stomach triggered the question of how long he’d been there. Days? No, he would have known about the bathroom.

Or would he?

The man made a disgusted sound and grabbed Lucier’s arm, dragging him to the bathroom. He still didn’t speak. Lucier tried to place him, but he had enough trouble putting one foot in front of the other.

He stumbled to the toilet in time to heave again. His stomach muscles cramped to the point he wanted to scream. He relieved himself, then splashed water on his face. Dampening the towel, he wiped it around his neck and arms. His shirt, soaked with sweat, clung to his overheated body.

Hooded man waited outside the door. He helped Lucier to the bed, then grabbed his arm. Lucier saw the syringe. “No,” he yelled. The man pushed him down. He struggled to yank his arm away.

Get up. Fight
.

But he could do neither.

No match
.

The needle plunged into his vein.

“Noooo.”

D
iana
stroked Alan Feldman’s burning forehead as Cash displayed his racecar driving skills once more on the way to the hospital emergency room. Whenever traffic tightened, he hit the siren, and like the Red Sea, a path opened for him to speed through.

The boy’s rapid pulse worried her. His mother hadn’t mention any chronic illness like diabetes or asthma, didn’t mention medications. Still, he was breathing.

Cash veered into the circle of the emergency entrance and parked in front. “Not waiting,” he said as he unfastened the seat belt and picked up the boy. Diana followed him into the hospital. The desk nurse called for a doctor STAT, and Alan was rushed into an examining room. Cash and Diana were told to wait outside.

Flashing his badge, Cash told the admissions nurse what she needed to know while Diana called Sheila Feldman to assure the distraught mother that her son was alive and receiving medical treatment. She should have called the minute they were in the car, but she wanted to pay full attention to the boy, comforting and talking to him as much as possible to reach his subconscious.

Diana waited while Cash went outside to call Captain Craven. She could now concentrate on Lucier. Where was he? Was he even alive? She couldn’t go there. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

Keep positive thoughts, Diana
.

“The captain knew about Beecher,” Cash said, coming inside from his call. “Sam called when he woke up. Beecher was still in the ER an hour ago. Craven assigned a cop to him, and he’s sending someone to guard the boy. He’s a witness, and until he can talk, he won’t be left alone.”

“Jeez, I didn’t even think of that. But you’re right. Alan might crack this case.”

“I don’t think so,” Cash said. “If the boy could describe anyone, they wouldn’t have left him alive. Still, he could have seen or heard something. Seven-year-old boys are pretty clever. I remember being one.”

Diana smiled.

“I’ll go speak to the hospital administrator. Be right back.”

Diana took a seat. She had totally forgotten about Alan as a witness, but Cash was right, which meant whoever left the kid to die in an airless trailer was worse than evil.

Before long, Sheila Feldman and her sister hustled through the ER door, their heads swiveling this way and that before finding Diana and Cash.

“Oh, my God. Is he going to be all right? Where’s the doctor?”

“I’m right here,” a tall, good-looking man in a white jacket said. “I’m Doctor Arias. Are you Mrs. Feldman?”

“Yes. How is he? How’s my Alan?”

“He’s suffering from heat stroke. We have him on an IV, and we’re cooling him down. His temp was in the stratosphere, but he should be all right. We’ll keep him here overnight to make sure. He’s a lucky boy.”

Sheila broke down in tears.

Marilyn, herself tearful, comforted her sister.

“Can we see him?” Sheila asked.

“In a little while. After we move him to a room, one of the nurses will let you know.” The doctor turned to Diana. “Are you the one who brought him in?”

Cash reappeared. “We both did,” he said and flashed his badge.

The doctor turned to Sheila. “You have these two to thank for saving your son’s life.” The doctor focused on Diana. “You look familiar. Have we met?”

“She’s Diana Racine,” Marilyn said. “The one who found Alan.”

“That’s who you are. I knew I’d seen you before.”

A nurse approached Sheila and her sister, holding a tablet. They spoke, then moved to a chair to fill out the insurance forms.

“I didn’t want to say anything in front of the boy’s mother,” the doctor said, “but if you’d brought him in any later, I’m afraid he wouldn’t have survived. His temperature hit 105, and he probably would have slipped into a coma.” The doctor addressed Cash. “Is this a police matter?”

“Yes. The boy is a potential witness in an ongoing investigation and could be in grave danger. An officer will be here shortly to stand guard.”

“I don’t know how this happened, but if someone hurt that boy deliberately, he needs to be put in prison.”

“We’ll do our best to make that happen,” Cash said.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Racine. I saw you perform in Boston when I was doing my residency there. Quite an entertaining evening.”

It amazed her how many people had seen her act, but then she’d performed for twenty years in every major city and then some. “Glad you enjoyed my act, Doctor.”

“I understand you’ve given up the stage.”

“That’s right.”

“She helps the police department on occasion now,” Cash said. “Like today.”

“They’re lucky to have you, and so is the young man you brought here. Nice to meet you both.”

Cash chased after him, but Diana heard what he said.

“Doctor, a cop was brought in here earlier this morning, Detective Sam Beecher. He has an officer with him and might still be in the ER. Any chance you could clear the way for us to see him?”

“Let me check.” He stopped to speak to Sheila and Marilyn for a minute, touching the mother’s shoulder in a comforting manner before heading to the desk. A moment later returned to Cash and Diana.

“Detective Beecher is still in the ER. He wasn’t my patient, but I can tell you he has a concussion. The neurologist wants to keep him another day. They’re trying to find a place for him now. We’re a little over bed count. I’ll let his doctor or his family tell you more.” He pointed down the hall. “Third room on the left, where an officer’s standing guard.”

“Thanks, Doctor. We appreciate your help.”

“Nice guy,” Diana said when the doctor went in the other direction.

“Good looking too,” Cash said.

Diana gave him a questioning look.

“No, no. Just stating a fact. Can’t a man say another man is good looking without getting that look? Not that there’s anything wrong with being gay, mind you, but I’m not.”

“Sorry. I’m usually better than that.”

Cash didn’t respond.

“I’m on edge.”

“Me too, Diana. This has been a hell of a day.”

Cash flashed his badge to the officer outside Beecher’s door. Adele Beecher was inside. Beecher was sitting up with a tray in front of him. His left eye was purple and swollen shut. Adele stood up. Diana hugged her.

“I wondered when you were going to get here,” Beecher said. “I spoke to the captain.”

“He told me,” Cash said.

“I want to thank you two for coming to my rescue.”

Cash shook Adele’s hand. “I’ll go find some coffee,” she said. “You three can talk.”

Cash patted Beecher’s shoulder; Diana pecked him on the cheek. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like someone took a hammer to my head.”

“Did you see who?”

“Like I told the captain, I have no idea. I looked out the window and saw a cop’s uniform. I thought the captain sent someone to relieve me for an hour or two, so I opened the door. The guy was wearing a hood under the cap. He zapped me with a Taser, and I went down. Then he clocked me. That’s all I remember. I didn’t wake up until you guys came.”

“How long were you out?”

“I opened the door around three, got here at four, but I woke up before that. Maybe half an hour, a little less.

“Anything you can give us?” Cash asked. “Height? Weight? Voice? Did he say anything?”

“Nothing, but I wasn’t awake long enough to hear if he did.”

“What did he hit you with?”

“A sap, I think. Whatever he whacked me with did the trick. Got a pounding headache. Never mind I can’t see out of one eye. Did ya get the kid?”

“Yeah. He’s here. Lucky we found him when we did. He was trapped inside an abandoned trailer near the landfill off Gentilly Road. The temp inside must have been 110. He wouldn’t have lasted another hour.”

“Son of a bitch. I want out, but the doctor said no. He wants to run some more tests, make sure I won’t have a stroke or something. I tried to reason with him, then I’m afraid I kind of threatened.”

“You didn’t,” Diana said.

“Yeah, but he laughed at me. Said he could put me down with his little finger if I tried anything. I believed him. He’s a bruiser, and I’m not at my best. Then he told me I should lose weight. Him! You should see this guy. Two fifty if he’s a pound, but solid muscle. Said he was going to put me on a diet.”

Cash laughed.

“I’m running my mouth,” Beecher said. “And on top of that, I feel terrible. They got the lieutenant because I messed up. If they do him harm, I’ll track them down and kill them all.”

Beecher loved Lucier. They were good friends outside of work, and Diana had no doubt Beecher’d feel responsible if something happened to his boss because of him.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said. “This abduction was well-planned.”

Cash leaned forward. “Who knew you and the lieutenant were at Diana’s, Sam?”

“I didn’t tell anyone but Adele so she’d know where I was. I don’t know who knew at the district or the other districts. Hard to keep Feldman’s death quiet. Cops have a way of finding out these things.”

Cash got up and walked to the window. “This smells to high heaven. A boy is kidnapped to make his cop father kill another cop, then another cop is attacked to kidnap the cop who escaped being killed by the boy’s father.”

“Very succinct.” Beecher’s sardonic tone wasn’t lost on the group.

Cash snorted. “I’ll run a check on the trailer, but I doubt we’ll find the kid’s abductors that way. That tin can was abandoned years ago, along with the others. We need to check them too.”

“Someone wants Ernie dead in the worst way.”

“You’re right about that,” Beecher said. “I’m just wondering why they didn’t kill him.”

Diana held in the tears, but it wasn’t easy.

Ernie, where are you?