Chapter 13
When I awoke, I found that I was lying in a hospital bed. The lights inside were dim and the only thing I could hear was the beeping of some machine. My shoulder felt incredibly stiff but I found that I couldn’t feel a thing. I looked around and saw a figure sitting on a nearby chair, oblivious to my motions. I blinked a few times, focused, and saw it was Valerie. Her mouth was slightly open and a gentle snore came out. She looked too tired to bother waking, so I closed my eyes and drifted away, not even thinking of how I got there.
The next time I woke up, Valerie was still there. She was awake, busy reading some fashion magazine. There was a bright Nevada sun blazing through the open curtains. When she saw that I was awake, her eyes grew wide. It looked like she was about to cry.
“Oh, Devon,” she managed to say.
“Where am I?” I croaked out. My throat was dry as sandpaper.
Valerie got out of the chair and picked up a glass of water. With her help I managed a few swallows through the straw.
She replied, “You’re at the hospital in Boulder City. They had to do some surgery to get a bullet out of your shoulder. You also have some cracked ribs and a wounded leg. The doctors say you are lucky to be alive.”
“What happened out there? Where is Keith?”
“The boat was starting to fill up fast. There wasn’t much time left. Sarah was sobbing away, thinking that we were done for. We were going to die anyway, so I was willing to take a chance with a bullet. Keith fired at us. Luckily no one was hit. But when I popped my head up again, I saw nothing but you and Ella at the side of the raft. She was trying to get you to help her, but you seemed lost. Anyway, we all swam out there. The Double Date went down a few minutes after that.”
“What about Keith? Did you see him?”
“No, I’m afraid not. We were too busy trying to keep you alive,” she answered. “Using that life raft as a float, we had you hang on to the side while the rest of us swam to the nearest shore. After that I had a long hike to get some help. It was hot. I found some park rangers and they called in a boat to pick us up. By that time you were shut down, not even responding to questions. I thought you were going to die.”
“Shock,” I commented. “It’s only in the movies that the hero can get beaten up, take a bullet, and then bounce back ready to drink a martini.”
“They called an ambulance in and took you to the hospital. Of course since you were shot, the police were called in and started asking us a bunch of questions.”
“What did you tell them?”
“The truth, as far as I know it. I didn’t mention your part much other then you tried to stop Keith from kidnapping Ella.”
“So the police have no reason to think that I’m nothing but a hero who caught a bullet for his troubles.”
“Something like that. I told them about the party and then how we left for a cruise early in the morning. And then how Keith seemed to go crazy, beating you up and tying us all up down in the engine room. I told them we were lucky to escape and you were wounded, but I didn’t see it happen.”
I nodded, digesting this information. Being questioned by the police was something I wasn’t looking forward to doing since they were efficient at prying into people’s lives. A good investigator, once he got hold of me, could find out a bunch of interesting details that would bring down the entire operation – a visit by the IRS would see me tied up in the court system for the rest of my life.
I asked, “What about Ella? How is she?”
Valerie bit her lip before answering. “She was raped. They brought her to a mental hospital so she can get the help that she needs. Is that why you were after him? What he did to other women?”
“Yes,” I lied.
Or was it a lie? I had started this whole thing to get a cut of the money that really belonged to Cleora and her family. They needed it to live a better life, not spend it on toys like Keith had done. Now Cleora was also in a hospital, while two other women had been victims of this sexual predator. In the beginning I had no plant to inflict any permanent damage to Keith Miller, but now I wanted to see him dead.
“Well I hope he gets what is coming to him.”
“He will,” I responded.
Valerie rose and leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. Close to my ear, she said in a low voice, “I just wanted to thank you for saving my life. I’m sorry that we never had a chance to hook up. I’m hoping that someday we can rectify that situation.”
I nodded. “I would like that. Look me up the next time when you’re in Vegas.” I gave her my phone number and address.
“I will.” And then she gave me a lingering kiss on the mouth before retreating. One final wave and she was out the door.
Once she was gone, I tested my strength by removing the IV drip from my arm - a delicate operation if you don’t like needles – and heading toward the bathroom. The flesh of my shoulder was tender, but usable. The wound on my thigh was minor and I found that I could walk without a limp. It wouldn’t be long before I had my full strength back. When I was done, I headed for the wardrobe where, along with my wallet and keys, I found the clothes I had been wearing. They were dry and folded neatly, with only a few bullet holes to remind me of what had happened. I stripped off the hospital gown and saw that a portion of my upper torso was covered in bandages. I gingerly dressed, trying to keep the pain at bay by gritting my teeth and pretending it didn’t exist.
I was about done when a nurse in purple pajamas – I do miss the crisp white uniform and hat of days past – came into the room. She was older with gray streaks in her black hair, brown eyes, and a face like a hatchet. Her expression was pinched from too much worrying and the stomach showed that she enjoyed her sweets too much. She was suitably shocked when she saw that I was moving around like a real human being. That’s the problem with the medical profession: they assume that the patients are helpless without their direction.
“What are you doing out of bed?” she blurted out.
“I’m leaving,” I said as I slipped on my shoes.
“No you’re not!” she exclaimed.
I stared hard into her eyes, dropping any pretense of friendliness. “Unless I have been arrested, I can come and go as I please. If I am detained by you, or any staff, I will see that the hospital is sued.”
This threat got her flustered. “But you have to see the doctor before you can be discharged.”
“Then bring him here,” I thundered.
She skittered out of the room as fast as she could. In a few minutes, a little puffed up man came in. He had the white coat and stethoscope – the trademarks of his profession – and looked at me as if I was an interesting specimen to be examined under the microscope. His bald head was shiny with sweat, but the steady gaze from his cold gray eyes showed that he was used to giving out orders. He was a tin god in the small confines of this hospital.
“I am Dr. Lucas,” he stated. “You are in no condition to leave yet.”
“And why is that?”
He talked as if explaining the mysteries of the universe to a child. “You were shot in the shoulder. You’re lucky that no major arteries were hit. It was a tricky operation to get out all the fragments. There was a lot of blood loss.”
“But I am no longer in any danger, right?”
“You need plenty of rest.”
I gave him a condescending smile. I could play his game too. “I can do that at home, eating what I want to eat and under the care of a friend. Unless there is some medication that I need or some further surgery that is required, then I don’t see why I need to stay.”
The doctor licked his lips, his eyes darting between me and the bed as if he was willing me to lie back down again. He said, “You’ll have to be discharged. We didn’t find any insurance card. Are you insured?”
“No insurance. Once I get home I’ll cut you a check from my company.”
“Okay,” h
e said uncertainly.
“You’ve been told to keep me here, haven’t you? I mean the police still want to question me, right?”
Lucas blinked a few times and his jaw shifted from side to side. He would have made a terrible poker player. “Yes, that’s true. I’ll have to call the sheriff’s department and tell them you’ve been discharged. I know they wanted to ask you some questions concerning how you received that gunshot wound.”
“And I’ll be happy to answer them,” I said with a grin that hid how I really felt about police officers. “It’s just that I have to get back to my business since there are a number of loose ends that require my attention.”
The doctor looked at me in a new light. I wasn’t a thug; I was a harried businessman who thought that time was money. That made more sense in his limited worldview. The reality was that I wanted some distance between me and the fine officers of Boulder City law enforcement. Once I was back in Las Vegas I could stay safe behind missed phone calls, or, if necessary, a maze of lawyers. They had no evidence to tie me to any crime but an overzealous officer could easily use me as a scapegoat if they failed to turn up Keith Miller. Anyways, I wanted that bastard for myself. I wasn’t about to let him get captured by the police and carted off to jail, safe from my reach.
After lunchtime I checked out of the hospital, giving them a business address to send the hefty bill to. You would think that cutting a man open and digging out some metal fragments wouldn’t cost as much as a new car, but that’s the state of modern medicine with the layers of bureaucracy between the consumer and the provider. I also didn’t like that fact that I was now on some computer record that could be called up by anyone trying to get a line on me.
Miracles of miracles, I found a payphone – which have almost gone extinct – and called for a taxi. I waited outside until the yellow Crown Victoria showed up. I got inside and ordered the driver to take me back to the Sandy Hill resort. As the car pulled out of the hospital parking lot, I saw a sheriff patrol pull in. That doctor had been true to his word and had called the police, even though I was an innocent, relatively speaking. Some good citizens should just mind their own business. That meant going back to the resort could mean trouble. If the sheriff really wanted to get his hands on me it would be a simple matter of calling another patrol car by radio and staking out my cabin. There, inside the duffel bag, was evidence that I wasn’t just an innocent bystander.
“Could you drive any faster?” I suggested to the cabbie. In the rear view mirror all I saw was a pair of brown eyes and dark skin.
With a thick accent he replied, “If I get a ticket, who will pay for it?”
“I will. And I’ll give you a hundred dollar tip if you get me there in the next twenty minutes.”
He laughed. “For a hundred dollars I’ll introduce you to my sister. Now hold on.”
The purr of the engine became a busy growl. The big car began to speed up. The other vehicles became a blur as we dodged through the traffic. Once we hit the edge of Lake Mead Park, I saw over the shoulder of the driver that the speedometer read just north of a hundred miles an hour. I didn’t trust this car could go much faster than that, at least without blowing the cheap tires first.
It was some minutes later when I could finally let out a sigh of relief. There was the sign for the resort. The car slowed as the wheels hit the gravel road. In a dusty cloud, the driver stopped in front of the office. I paid him the fare plus the promised money.
“Thank you,” I said as I hurriedly got out of the cab.
From there it was a quick walk to my cabin. I saw my truck parked out front and the next door neighbor piling his kids into a van. Everything looked peaceful but I didn’t go walking directly in. Instead I headed to the beach and then, after I had lost myself in the crowd of afternoon sun worshipers, slowly began strolling in the direction of the marina. I didn’t see anything that raised my alarm bells but there was still a sense of unease. It felt as if I was being watched even though there was no evidence to support the idea.
The vacationers were in high spirits today – a crowded noise of boats, children laughing, and people talking brightly through a cloud of alcohol. I was just a wandering shadow of no importance. I walked closely behind a group of tourists heading toward the marina, but split away once my cabin was close enough. With my key in hand I went through the door and found no one waiting inside. I ran through the rooms, gathering everything that I owned and stuffed it inside the duffel bag. I left the key on the kitchen counter. I then headed for the truck, throwing the bag on the passenger seat. I got behind the wheel, slammed the car door shut and started up the engine.
I didn’t take off. At least not yet. Instead I released a hidden catch located on the door. A compartment opened up that I had previously cut open and then welded, creating a padded box. From the duffel bag I transferred the sawed-off shotgun and a few other suspicious odd and ends into the hiding spot. Once everything was back in place, I threw the truck into reverse and slowly backed out of the space. It was crowded with people walking the streets, so I crept slowly forward and then only gave the truck some serious gasoline once I was clear of the parking lot.
With my hurt shoulder I drove back to Vegas carefully, taking a roundabout way that wouldn’t put me through Boulder City. My heart gave a leap when I saw a state trooper running a speed trap but he didn’t pay me any attention. It was a wise decision on my part to register all of my vehicles through one of my many holding companies. It made me a little harder to track down through a license plate. By the time I reached my own street I was feeling a little less paranoid. As far as I could tell I hadn’t been followed nor was there any reason to think that I should be. But not knowing whether Keith was dead or alive was obviously making me jumpy.
It felt good to park the truck in its normal parking space and take the elevator up to the apartment. Without even knocking, I entered and was immediately rushed by Pauline, who was a combination of anger and relief.
After a brief kiss on my mouth, she said, “Where have you been? I tried calling you all day!”
“My cellphone is at the bottom of the lake,” I said after giving her a weak grin. I then handed her the keys. “Why don’t you unlock the cupboard and fix me a drink? I think we both deserve one.”
“Are you sure?” she asked uncertainly.
“Yeah, a gin and tonic with plenty of ice would do me wonders.”
“I think I’ll have the same.”
She got to work while I sat carefully down on the sofa to minimize the pain of my shoulder. I felt incredibly tired – the effects of such abuse to my body and the drugs I had received at the hospital. I knew I was going to be really hurting in the morning. I leaned back into the comfort of the cushions and closed my eyes, listening to the tinkle of glass and ice as Pauline made the drinks. A moment of time slipped by.
“Devon?” a voice from out of the darkness called.
My eyelids fluttered a few time and it took me a moment to focus. I saw a tumbler of icy liquid floating in front of me. I reached out and took it, and put the lip of the glass to my mouth. I drank deeply and tasted the pine flavor of gin mixed with the bitterness of quinine. It was wonderful.
“You look like hell,” Pauline said, her voice piercing my consciousness like a dagger.
I looked up at her, wondering where she came from. When I finally spoke, my words sounded faraway as if someone else was forming the words. “I managed to find Keith. As you said, he was living in a houseboat. It’s a long story.”
She sat down next to me. Her arm went around my waist. She said, “We have plenty of time.”
I told her of how I rented the cabin and was able to watch the party on board the houseboat. And then I told her about Valerie and then how I got on the ship. And then how Keith knew who I was and the resulting fight. She gasped when I told her about the sinking ship, and the escape. I finally mentioned the bullet that had
pierced my shoulder, sending me to the hospital. When I was done, my drink was finished and I could barely keep my eyes open.
“You need to go to bed,” she said.
Pauline helped me. As I stood up, I only gave a small involuntary gasp of pain. Together we walked to the bedroom where she assisted me as I undressed. Wearing only my boxers and the bandage around my shoulder, I lowered myself onto the mattress, supporting the upper part of my body with a pile of pillows. I began to breathe a little easier in the position, the pain subsiding until it was a just a minor annoyance. I felt sleep trying to drag me down, but a sudden jolt made me rise.
“What is it?” Pauline asked. She was hovering over me, her expression giving away to concern.
“I need my tablet,” I answered.
“Right now?”
“It’s important.”
She left the room and quickly returned with the device in question. I navigated through a couple of screens and then found the app I was looking for – a cellphone GPS locator. I entered the number of the phone I had taped to the underside of Keith’s Lexus. In a few seconds I saw the car was located here in Vegas, specifically on Manhattan Street which was only a few blocks away from the Strip.
Pauline was looking over my shoulder. “What does it mean?” she asked.
I put the tablet down on the bed next to me. “As a backup, I hid an active smartphone underneath Keith’s car. If he slipped through my grasp, I would be able to find out where he went. I never thought he would be going back to Vegas.”
“You look surprised.”
“I am. But I suppose it makes some kind of sense. Keith knows he’s a wanted man and the police will be on the lookout for him and that car. I bet he drove it into town and ditched it.” I began to pull myself out of the bed.
“And where do you think you are going?”
“I have to go find that car.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” she said as she gently pushed me back down.
I tried to resist but I was too tired. I sunk back into the pillows and shut my eyes. Pauline put the tablet on the side table, shut off the light, and then got in the bed next to me. As sleep carried me away, I felt her wrap my arms around me. I smiled and tried to say something but instead slipped away into darkness.