Cooper told me that he would run me back over to the beach, but he had a few things to attend to first. I told him that I was absolutely starved. He gave me succinct directions to a decent and reasonably priced restaurant located close to the cop shop. He told me that he would pick me up there in about twenty minutes to a half an hour. I had just started out the door of the cop shop when Cooper called me back.
“I’ve just heard from the hospital. Mia Doulton has regained consciousness.
“Thank you Jesus! Can you get me there instead of to the beach—and sooner rather than later?” I was starting to sound like Max.
“Yeah, I think I can do that. I need to talk with her anyway,” Fred said as he left me briefly to tell the confused duty officer to get in touch with Kemp as soon as possible and tell the top cop where he was and who he was with.
The officer made a quick note and assured Fred that she would get on it. Was it Kemp’s name or Cooper’s request that generated instant response?
Unlike many cops, Cooper was an extremely careful driver. He apparently didn’t know or care about the “all civilians must ride in the rear of the cruiser” policy. He just casually glanced over to the passenger seat and told me to put on my seat belt. No matter how much I urged him, the guy drove at five miles an hour under the speed limit. He started to give me the detailed narrated guided tour of downtown Tampa as we went. I cheerfully could have swatted him. I wanted to be with Mia faster than Superman’s speeding bullet. Instead, I get Driving Miss Daisy.
Cooper parked the aging Crown Vic in the same small lot behind the emergency wing. It was the one that he had parked in when he first brought me to see Mia. We presented ourselves to the head nurse, Victoria Johnson, on the intensive care unit. Mia had been moved to the I.C.U. immediately after her condition had stabilized. She was still considered to be in guarded critical condition, but no one takes up space for too long in an emergency wing at most modern hospitals. Beds are too scarce.
Mia was sleeping the unmoving quiet rest of drug-induced unconsciousness. She looked terrible. The wounds that had been fresh, red and ugly when we had come here the first time had aged to yellow and bruised blue, black and purple. Her beautiful blue eyes were hidden beneath the fresh white padded bandages that covered much of her head. I felt my own eyes start to well up. Cooper must have sensed how this was affecting me. He bought me time to regroup by asking the nurse the natural questions about what Mia had said during that short period of time when she had been conscious and why she had been sedated. He gently led Nurse Johnson away from the bedside to give me a moment.
How could anyone do this to another person? I grabbed a Kleenex tissue from an open box on the night table and blew my nose. It really didn’t help that much. Fred came back to my side and stood there quietly.
“The doctor wanted her sedated as within minutes of waking she became extremely agitated. He feared that she would do more damage to herself. According to the attending nurse, most of what she said when she was conscious was unintelligible.”
I just nodded.
Victoria Johnson came back to the bedside where we were. “Detective Cooper—you have a phone call. You can take it at the nurse’s station if you wish.”
“Thank you,” Cooper said as he turned to follow the nurse.
I walked over and drew a seat up close beside Mia. I gently laid my hand on her arm. I sat there quietly remembering better times. After a few moments, I silently vowed to Mia that I would have revenge for what had happened—no matter what the cost.
Fred Cooper returned to the room a few minutes later. He asked me if I was going to be okay. I just nodded that I would be fine. Okay for me—maybe; for Cooper, almost certainly; for the guy who did this—definitely not—if I had anything to do with it.
“It’s really too bad we can’t talk with her now. Hopefully, when she’s conscious, she will be able to give us the identity of the guy who did this,” Fred said to fill the void.
We both stood respectfully at the end of her hospital bed and waited. But nothing happened.
Finally, Cooper spoke again. “That was Chance’s assistant on the phone. When we tried to bring in Sammy Tolla and Terry Bullock for a little chat, we couldn’t find them. Chance figures they’ve gone to ground. They may still be out there looking for you.”
“That’s a happy thought,” I mumbled. “You might want to check the area hospitals for Sammy. Rumour on the beach was that he had a pretty serious accident.”
“I’ll do that,” Cooper said as he pulled out his own cell.