INK: Vanishing Point (Book 2) Page 2

  “Where am I?” I croak, settling back and squinting at the light.

  “You are at Holmes Hospital. I’m Dr. Shah,” she states simply.

  “What? Why am I in the hospital?” My throat is on fire. Someone give me some “Water.”

  “Miss Baynes, please. I need you to lay back. We’ll explain everything.” Her voice is kind but there is an edge that says she’s losing her patience. “I don’t like the look of her pupils. Miss Baynes, are you able to see?”

  “Just shapes, everything is fuzzy.” I’m lying as still as possible.

  “This is pretty normal; we’re going to watch closely. Please let the nurse know as soon as things come into focus.” I think she puts the flashlight in her pocket. “I want another full blood workup.” She turns to me. “Miss Baynes, I need you to rest as quietly as possible. We are going to send you down for an MRI.” She pauses for a moment. Her blurry figure turns around, then back to me. “You’ve undergone two surgeries. It is of the utmost importance that you don’t get excited or upset. Are you feeling any pain?”

  My voice has bailed on me; all I can do is whisper “Yes.” I raise my hand, touching my head, then my neck.

  “Your head and neck? Are you feeling any other pain?” She asks.

  I try to motion to my whole body but I fail. My arms feel weak and I can only move them a little.

  “It hurts all over? But your head and neck hurt the most?”

  I nod, trying to sit up again, but I’m not comfortable. I’ll bet I would feel better if I sat up. Dr. Shah puts her hand on my shoulder. “Please just lay back and rest." She walks away from the bed and addresses a nurse. I can’t understand half of what she’s saying; it’s something about cc’s and scans or something. “Miss Baynes, I’ll be back in after your results are in and we’ll talk more.” With that she leaves the room.

  The nurse fiddles with the equipment for the moment and another figure moves in closer and picks up my hand. “Hey, welcome back!”

  My vision is clouded and my hearing feels like it’s filtered through an old phonograph. “Aiden?”

  “You can’t see me?” He asks, his tone laden with disappointment.

  “Not really.” I reach up touch his hair; it’s not long enough to be Aiden. “Eli?”

  “Yeah,” he says, voice still heavy with sadness. “We have all been really worried about you. I called your Dad and let him know you were awake."

  “What happened? Where’s Aiden?” I rattle out. There’s a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, like something is very wrong.

  “You were shot.” He hesitates. “Twice.” His grip tightens on my hand.

  The words he just said blow my mind. I would remember that. Wouldn’t I? My heart races. I try to swallow the lump in my throat but I can’t; it’s too dry. “Who?”

  “Shay, you need to calm down. The machines are going crazy.” Eli tries to soothe my nerves, running his thumb along the top of my hand.

  A nurse bursts in the door. “Mr. Walker, you’re going to have to leave. We can’t have her getting upset.”

  I shake my head and affirm my grip on Eli’s hand. “Stay.”

  “I’ll keep her calm, I promise,” Eli pleads with the nurse. There’s desperation in his voice that I wouldn’t be able to refuse.

  I put my hand to my neck and whisper, “Water.”

  “You need to stay calm. I’m waiting to hear from Dr. Shah if it’s okay for you to have liquids. Just sit tight.” She’s curt but sympathetic. I realize that my vision is starting to come into focus as she walks away.

  Eli looks down at me with worried eyes. Not even his heavy concern can cloud the beauty of his crystal blue orbs. I blink several times, hoping it will continue to coax the fine lines into focus. His raven-black hair is disheveled and there are dark circles under his eyes. The sleeves on his wrinkled white dress shirt are rolled up just past his elbows. An involuntary smile spreads across my lips and I tighten my grip on his hand. Now that I’m able to see him completely I whisper his name.

  “Shhh, don’t try to talk, I know it must hurt.” Relief replaces the worry. He brings my fingers up and presses his lips into them and keeps them there. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

  “What happened?” My facial expressions are exaggerated with my limited ability to make any real noise.

  “We’ll talk about it later. What’s important is that you are okay, you’re safe and you’re awake.” He’s really hedging the question, which causes me to try to dig deeper into my memory to try to figure out what happened. What’s the last thing I remember?

  I remember being at the law office and looking out onto the river. Eli was there with his boss and detective Glass, that douchebag. Then it hits me. “I’m not in trouble anymore.” I whisper with a smile.

  Eli looks at me with remorse. “We’ll talk about it. I don’t want you to overdo it right now.”

  Dad walks in the room, and then he stops and looks at me with his watery eyes as though I’m some kind of apparition, “Hey, Doodlebug.” He comes to my bedside, careful not to disturb any of the tubes or cords attached to me.

  This reminds me that I’m probably looking less than stellar. I try to wrap my arms around him, but can’t manage it. “I’m okay.”

  He turns to Eli. “What did the doctor say?”

  “Nothing really; her throat really hurts and we’re waiting for the nurse to tell her whether she can have any water.”

  Three nurses enter the room, and then the one I’ve seen before announces, “We are going to take you down for an MRI. When you get back, Dr. Shah said you could have some water.”

  Eli stands, keeping hold of my hand. The nurse gives him a look of warning, “Mr. Walker, you’re going to need to stay here. There isn’t enough room in the hallway for her entourage as it is.”

  I give Eli a questioning look. He smiles and says, “I’ll explain that later too. Everything’s going to be fine.” He leans over and presses a kiss on my forehead. His scent is intoxicating, I inhale deeply and smile. Locking onto his gaze, he smiles back, “I’ll be here when you get back; I’m not going anywhere.”

  With all the equipment unplugged from the wall, the nurses wheel my bed out of the room. Outside the door are a uniformed police officer and someone else that I recognize. I search my memory for where I know him from. Carl, that’s it. I wave, remembering he’s McNab’s friend. Then I remember the fiasco at the signing. It’s coming back to me now bit by bit. But why is the cop here?

  Carl waves back and gives a reassuring smile. He looks relieved to see me. What the hell happened? I bet McNab would tell me. Where is McNab anyway?

  “He had to go back to L.A. for a taping and some other business. He’ll be back when he can,” Carl says.

  I’m a bit startled by our seemingly one-way conversation, but go with it. Where is my pendant? Carl pats his coat pocket. “Not to worry, we’ve got you covered in other ways."

  ***

  Harry

  Eli and I are left in the room devoid of the hospital bed. Eli runs his fingers through his hair then gets up and pours himself a glass of water. He has the shakes, judging from the amount of water he’s spilling. Poor bastard; I’ve been there.

  “How are you holding up?” My meaning is layered.

  “I’m better now. I know they said she was going to be okay, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t worried.” He takes a long drink from the Styrofoam cup.

  “No, how are you holding up?” I raise an eyebrow hoping he’ll get my meaning. “You’ve gone a week cold turkey. That’s not easy.”

  “I’m good.” Eli affirms with a nod. “Seeing her open her eyes made it all worth it.”

  “What does she remember?” My hope is that she doesn’t remember shit; it’ll be best for her if she doesn’t have to relive it over and over in interrogation.

  “Not much. She was asking for Aiden.” He leans against the counter.

  “What did you tell her?”

  “I didn’t
tell her anything. The only thing she knows is that she was shot.” Eli’s hands are still shaking slightly as he rests the cup behind him. I wonder if it’s the lack of booze or the fact that the first person she asked for was Aiden?

  “The less she knows right now the better. Once she’s out of here we can go over everything with her.”

  “What if she remembers? What if she keeps asking for him?” The concern on Eli’s face is genuine.

  “You’ll think of something. Just hear what I’m saying here. The most important thing right now is to not upset her. The quicker she heals the quicker she’ll be out of here." I sit in the chair next to where the bed was giving him a knowing look.

  “Yeah, but when she gets out of here there’s a good chance she’ll be going straight to jail.” Eli puffs in frustration.

  “We don’t know that yet.” I’m not convinced that will be the case. No body, no murder. “Listen, why don’t you go home and get some sleep, have you even been home since she was brought in?”

  “No I don’t want to leave, Jerry brought me a few changes of clothes and he’s taking care of Rex.” Eli motions to the duffle bag on the floor.

  “We need a set of eyes and ears in the D.A.’s office. We need to know what’s happening and whether the grand jury is going to hear the case." While I really don’t like the idea of him putting his ass on the line, keeping my little girl out of jail is the priority.

  “Preston is going to take his time on this. He’s also not letting me anywhere near it. He’s not going to want to bring her in unless he’s sure he can get an indictment. Sharon will call me if there is any real movement.” Eli draws in a deep breath. “Once they can question her I’m sure it will be okay.”

  “I hope so. I don’t think she can deal with all of this.”

  “I know, Harry, but she’s stronger than you think. She’s going to be fine.” Eli grimaces.

  “What about when she asks for Aiden again? You know she will.” There’s only so much one man should be expected to take.

  “I’m going to have to tell her. That is if she doesn’t remember on her own.” Eli pinches the bridge of his nose.

  “Well for her sake I hope she doesn’t remember.”

  Chapter 4

  Cinder-fella

  Detective Glass

  “Knock knock.” The door to D.A. Preston’s office is open; I stand waiting for an invitation.

  “What is it, Glass?” Preston doesn’t look up from his computer.

  Prick. “I just got an interesting e-mail from Tampa PD.” My fingers worry the edges of the sheaf of print outs. “You need to see this.”

  “Did you forward it? Or were you just that compelled to come down here to fuck up my day?” The smug bastard leans back in his chair finally acknowledging my existence.

  “Fuck your day. Look at this.” He doesn’t invite me in so I walk in anyway and drop the pages from a dramatic height. It’s a lot of pages so they fall heavily on the desk with a thud.

  He picks it up and starts looking through it; his face twists at the horror of it. Mine did; this is sick and the sooner we get her off the streets the better. She’s racking up a body count that rivals the plague.

  “Jesus Christ.” Is all he can say as he starts shuffling through the photos.

  “Yeah, I don’t think Jesus has anything to do with this.” I give him more time to look everything over.

  “You got this from Tampa PD?” Preston looks up at me from the paper, trying to hide the look of horror on his face.

  “Yeah.” He doesn’t need to know why they sent it; bottom line is they sent it and we’ve got her. She was there.

  “There’s no DNA in this report. Did they have any?” Preston takes the logical route; if he thinks I don’t see the picture of him and Harry Baynes on the wall he’s wrong. I know he’s too close to this to be objective. But is there anyone in this office that doesn’t know her, has changed her diaper as a baby or fucked her?

  “Not yet, and we don’t have hers. That asshole Eddins made sure of that.” I pause for minute to see how objective he can be. “I want to bring her in; I want her to be processed so we can at least get some DNA.”

  “Get me something that I can bring her in on. I’ll do it in a heartbeat. If she’s the one responsible for this I’ll walk her to the electric chair myself.” He looks earnest, but he wavers on the last word. I could mistake it for bluster, but he’s really worried.

  “Will you hold her hand while they shave her head?” See what he thinks of that.

  Preston looks up at me, eyes full of fury. He inhales a steady breath for the seriousness of his words to ride out on. “Let’s get something clear. I want to nail whoever is committing these murders and if my own mother was a suspect I would put her through the wringer until I was sure it wasn’t her.” He stands, leaning his arms on the desk trying to create an ominous presence, “I’m doing my due diligence because I know her, I trust her and I also know her attorneys. Jason Eddins could get Charles Manson out of jail for Christ’s sake. We have to have a solid case; if we don’t, Jason will bury us. I also want to know that if I’m flushing a lifelong friendship down the toilet it’s because I really think she’s guilty.”

  “Don’t you, though?” This guy is a joke; everything points to her.

  “Honestly I don’t. She’s been through a lot and I know the drawings are pretty damning, but just like Eddins’ research team was able to ferret out, it’s not PC for arrest or prosecution.” He sits back in his chair and steeples his fingers. “I need real evidence that connects her to the crime scenes or weapons, something I can bring to a grand jury, and I’m all for it.”

  Let’s see what this asshole thinks of this. I maneuver the evidence bag from my pocket that holds a broken high heel encrusted with mud and blood. “How’s this for connecting her to the scene?”

  He picks up the bag studying the contents. “What’s this?”

  “CSU found it in the field next to the Messner’s house on their second sweep. Gary Messner’s blood’s on it.” Dispute that.

  “Two problems with your ‘slipper theory,’ Glass.” He smirks. If he fucking says ‘Cinderella’ I swear I’ll taze him.

  “How is this a problem? It links her to the crime scene. This was found in the field between their houses.” This guy really doesn’t want to nail her, I can feel it.

  “First, where’s the footprints at the scene. Second, Shay Baynes doesn’t wear high heels.” He throws the bag back toward me.

  There is actually pain in my temples from this guy pissing me off. This is ridiculous; if this were Detroit this bitch would already be locked up, not out slaughtering more people. I try to keep my tone as low as possible, but my anger is raging out of control and my voice gets louder with each word. “Preston, so far I count seven bodies, seven. All of them are connected to her. The Messners were her neighbors, Eli was boning Kristen Ringgold, all three of these kids in Tampa were at her comic signing and I know with the certainty that I’m standing here that she murdered Aiden Roth.” This asshole is keeping me from doing my job and just sits in his chair ignoring me. I’m tired of having my hands tied by him. He jumps when my fist slams down on his desk. “It’s plain as day that these murders were committed by this little bitch and I’m going to collar her for it.”

  “Those are the words of a lazy cop, and I would appreciate you not calling my daughter a bitch.” I turn to see Harry Baynes in the doorway. “Preston, can I have a minute.” He holds up a manila folder.

  “Sure, come on in Harry.” Preston looks away from his computer then to me. This is probably where I get kicked out of the office. “Both of you have a seat.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to go?” My anger hasn’t subsided; it’s just sneaking its way out via sarcasm.

  “No actually I’d like to have you here for this.” Harry’s tone is placid. He’s always had an amazing calm about him. Probably why he made Commissioner and managed to retire from it.

  �
��What’s up Harry?” Preston has a smug look on his face.

  “I actually came to talk to the detective. I went to his office and they said he was here.” He turns to me. “Detective, I have some new evidence that confirms Shayleigh was in Tampa spanning the time of death for Kristen Ringgold.”

  My curiosity of what he could possibly have to clear her prickles the back of my neck. I don’t want it to be true; I want to take her down. “Let’s see it.”

  Harry hands a thumb drive to Preston. “Do you mind playing this?”

  Preston turns his monitor so we can all watch the video. “You can see by the time stamp that this video was taken the day the Ringgold girl was murdered. It’s the traffic camera across the street from the hotel.”

  “What am I looking at?” I ask, failing to see anything of real interest in the video.

  Harry watches the time counter carefully, and then leans forward in his chair “Okay, pause it.” He stands but is still hunched over putting his finger directly on the LED screen causing the color to distort. He eases up the pressure. “Right there, you see. That‘s Shay getting into a parked car on the street by the hotel.”

  “That doesn’t prove anything.” I can’t believe he thinks that saves her.

  “Actually it does.” Preston adds. “It proves she couldn’t have killed the Ringgold girl.”

  He says that like it’s a fact that everyone knows. “How do you figure? She still had time to come back here, and then drive back to Tampa before her signing.”

  “No she didn’t,” Harry protests.

  There isn’t a lot more of this that I can take. I stand up to walk out, this video doesn’t prove anything. “I’m God damn sick and tired of you country bumpkins and your Matlock law.”

  “You know, Brandon, you didn’t have a problem with Harry’s ‘country bumpkin’ law when he made that DUI go away.” I knew Harry wouldn’t keep that to himself. I also knew it would come back to haunt me. Fuck these two.

  “Your revelation of evidence may clear her for the Ringgold murder, but I doubt you’ll be able to pull anything out of your magic hat for the three corpses in Tampa with her signature all of over them.” I pause in the doorway waiting for one of them to speak, when they don’t, I leave in disgust. “I guess we’ll find out tomorrow in the interrogation.”