Beneath the Cracks (41 page)

He was faster than he looked.  Kim
Jackson pulled a Smith and Wesson .44 caliber double action
revolver out from under the bar so fast, I didn't have time to
react until it was too late.  He didn't speak, but Uncle Nooky
wasn't so quiet.

"The bitch of this situation is,
detective
, I actually took a liking to you.  Why
couldn't you just leave it alone?  They were bums, and nobody
murdered them for fuck's sake.  They were just stupid and
thought they were owed a cut of what was cookin' in the basement.
When they died for nosing into shit that wasn't owed them, we just
put 'em back in the trash. Exactly where we found 'em."  Nick
shook his head.

"What about Detective Cox?  His death
was no accident."  I raised my hands and started inching
backward.

"You stay put," Kim rasped.  "Nooky
never lied to you.  Denton
was
an idiot.  The man
barely knew how to tie his own shoes unless I was there to tell him
how to do it.  Hell, I even had to tell him to convince Dupree
to hire my guys for security out there."

"Dupree went along with it because he
believed that Denton would be successful with the research he was
actually hired to do," I said.  "Very clever, Mr.
Jackson.  Oh yes, I know you and Nick are related.  I'm
curious how you and Denton hooked up in the first place.  He
was a respected scientist at one point in his career."

"Believe it or not,
Dr.
Eriksson, I'm
an educated man myself.  You think Tommy had the stones to run
that lab?  He didn't.  It was mine.  All I needed
was a secure location and a way to make sure that nobody who
actually worked at the dairy farm stumbled onto
my
research.  As for the meth..."  Kim shrugged.  "A
convenient means to an end."

I recalled his age from his criminal record,
noted the appearance of years that the wear and tear of the
lifestyle added to Kim Jackson's physical appearance.  "You
went to college with Denton.  You knew he was vulnerable, knew
he wasn't well."

"Yes I did, and saying he wasn't well is
very generous of you, detective.  So you see, when I told you
the man was a moron, I meant it.  Maybe in a relative sense,
but it's true all the same."

"You're not gonna kill me in front of all
these witnesses, Kim."

"Call me
the chemist
.  Get
it?  Kim,
Chem
."
 
He cocked the hammer on
the revolver, turning the trigger into a hair-trigger.  "And
why aren't I going to kill you, doctor?  Only a fool would let
you walk outta here.  Since your brothers in blue are nowhere
to be seen, if I were a betting man, and I am, I'd think that they
don't even know you're in here tonight.  No way would they let
you come back alone.  And since you asked before, here's the
answer.  This
is
what happens to cops who nose around
into things that aren't their business."

"People will talk.  You can't
intimidate everyone in this bar –" my eyes darted around the room,
meeting nothing but hostility and bloodlust.  "They'll put it
together just like I did, Kim.  Just like Jake Cox did. 
The state police already have the lab, the evidence implicating
you."

"And if I'm not around for them to catch,
there's not a damn thing they can do about it.  Let 'em
try.  They can call the DEA and bring the feds in – no pun
intended – 'til the cows come home.  They'll never find
me.  You think this is the only operation I've got going?"

My throat was suddenly dry, not to mention
the chill elicited by thoughts of other greenhouses of
process-resistant cassava roots.  Everything he said was
true.  He could pack up and be out at sea or across the border
before my body was found – and Briscoe and Conall would arrive too
late.  Only the crime scene tech had any idea where I'd been
initially.  Nick and Kim wouldn't be stupid enough to leave my
car anywhere near the bar.  And not the least of my worries
was Kim's choice of weaponry.  The Smith and Wesson .44
caliber would tear through my body like a hot knife through
butter.  Large bullet at close range with high velocity
spelled certain death.  The fact that he could twitch and I'd
be dead in a second didn't help my capacity for reasoning.

"Listen to me, Jackson.  You don't have
to do this.  A few murders are one thing, but the genocide
you've planned with those cassava roots will turn you into a hunted
man.  You'll have law enforcement agencies all over the world
looking for you.  You don't want to kill me."

"I think it's exactly what I want to
do."  He smiled pleasantly and jerked his right index
finger.

Chapter 36

The first tickle of awareness was more of a
dull ache – in my left shoulder to be precise.  My eyes felt
weighted, lids too heavy to open.  I tried anyway.  A
slit of blurry reality came into view.  It was dark. 
There was a noise though – an annoying blip.

Where was I?  How did I get here? 
I struggled hard to focus, to grasp anything tangible that might
give me a clue.  We'd been at Dupree's farm, in the lab Denton
used. 
Have I been exposed to something?  The cassava
root maybe.  Was I poisoned?  Why can't I
remember?

I tried to move.  The dull ache blazed
into white hot pain.  I moaned.  My eyelids
fluttered.  There was movement in the shadow.  Who was
there?  Something warm brushed my cheek.

"Helen?"

The resonance was familiar. 
Soft.  Feminine.  "Maya?"  My voice felt and sounded
like shards of gravel had been packed into my throat.

"Shh…  Don't try to talk.  I'm
right here.  You're safe."

"What happened?  How did I get
here?"

Light spiked the dark room.  It hurt my
eyes.  I pinched them shut quickly, but not before a blurry
form slipped through the doorway.

"You're in the hospital.  We have all
the time in the world to talk about what happened.  Right now,
I want you to rest."

"You should talk," I mumbled.  "Who was
here?"

"I'm here – Ken is too."

"Hey Eriksson," another voice spoke from my
left side, Ken Forsythe's.

"Did you just get here?" 
Who went
through the door?  What aren't they telling me?  This
pain... poison wouldn't make me feel like I've been...oh my
God.
  "I was shot," I whispered.

"Yes.  You just got out of surgery a
couple of hours ago.  The doctor says you'll make a complete
recovery, Helen."

"Kim Jackson – he shot me." 

Maya and Ken let me talk.

"I have to get out of here!  I solved
the case and no one knows –"  Another thought – very
disturbing – how many homeless men had Jackson returned to where he
found
them that we
hadn’t
discovered?

"Helen, Kim Jackson is dead.  We know
you solved your case."

"But we've got to find Jessica Blake. 
She's the key to the whole thing.  She proves the link between
the Jacksons and Tom Denton's murder."

"Helen, did you hear what I just
said?"  Maya's voice was gentle, soothing.  "Kim Jackson
is dead.  It doesn't matter if you can build a case against
him now or not."

"I shot him?"

Neither of them answered.

"Please tell me what happened."

"I think that your fellow detectives would
prefer to know what you're able to remember on your own, Helen,"
Forsythe said.  "When you tell them, I'm sure Conall and
Briscoe will be happy to fill in the blanks for you."

"I presume he hit my shoulder."

"You're in pain," Forsythe said.  "I'll
let the nurse know."

I waited for the door to close.  "Maya,
you've got to talk to me.  Forsythe isn't here to keep you
from telling me the truth.  How did Kim Jackson die?"

"I believe it was a head shot," Maya
said.

"Billy got ahold of Tony and Crevan." 
My tone was a dull sound that contrasted sharply with the pain in
my shoulder.  "They sent backup, didn't they?"

"It's a damn good thing they did, too. 
If help hadn't arrived when it did, we wouldn't be having this
conversation right now."

"They couldn't have shown up a minute
earlier?"  I grumbled, but felt an enormous wave of relief
that Billy conveyed the message where I went.  Why hadn't I
waited for them to arrive?  Why couldn't I seem to trust
anyone at my back?

Only one reason,
conscience pricked
the growing delusion of being part of something more than my own
agenda.
  You let these people get close to you, and just
think how disappointed they'll be if the truth ever comes
out.  Do you really want that on your plate too?

"Where's –" I clamped my mouth shut before
the word
Johnny
slipped from my lips. 

"Where's what?  Would you like some ice
chips?"

"No thank you.  What's taking so long
with that pain medicine?"

I felt Maya's eyes boring into me and turned
my head away.

"Helen, what were you gonna ask me?"

"I told you.  Why are you here? 
You should be resting, not sitting here holding my hand."

"I'm returning the favor.  They're
letting me go home tomorrow."

"God I wish I was going home too."

The nurse arrived with pain medication and
heard the remark.  "You'll be here a few days,
detective.  I'm giving you morphine right now.  It's
going to make you sleepy.  Don't fight it.  Your body
needs the rest."

Warmth suffused my veins.  I heard the
voices drifting away from me; the last thing registering was the
nurse insisting that Maya go back to her room and rest too. 
Good.  She needs her strength more than I need someone on
death watch over my bed.

The next time I woke, I at least remembered
where I was and how I had gotten here.  The room was still
dark.  I had no concept of time.  Just awareness…and I
was not alone.  "Maya?"

Someone plucked at the fingers of my right
hand.  "No, but I can go get her for you if you like."

My head turned toward the voice.  I
could barely make out his features in the dark.  It was him –
he'd come after all.  "Johnny..."

"How do you feel?"

"Like I got shot."

"That's not funny, Doc."

"When did you get here?"

"You don't remember; of course you don't
remember."

"I know I was at Uncle Nooky's and Kim
Jackson shot me with a .44 caliber Smith and Wesson double action
revolver.  Frankly, I didn't expect to wake up."  My dry
voice cracked, and I coughed.  A low moan of discomfort soon
followed.

Orion moved away for a second.  "Open
up," he said.  He spooned a tiny bit of slushy chunks of ice
onto my tongue.

It felt oddly intimate. 

"Thank you."

"I'm feeling pretty torn up right now,
Helen," he said, each word slow and deliberate.  "On one hand,
I'd like to kiss you stupid.  On the other, I feel like
screaming at you for doing something so reckless."

Apparently he decided fast enough which path
he'd take.

"What were you thinking?  You had to
know what the Jacksons were capable of the second that you figured
out the link between the police impersonator and them.  Did
you think they'd just chuck you on the shoulder and say,
aw
shucks ma'am; you caught us
?  When I saw you hit the
floor..."

I felt his lips press against my
temple.  Okay, scold first, kiss later.  The pecking
order had been established.  His words picked that moment to
register in my groggy brain.

"I thought he killed you."

"You shot Kim Jackson."

"Yes."

"You killed him."

"I thought I saw him murder you in cold
blood."  Orion's breath fanned my face.  He was so close
now; I could see the blue in his eyes like they were lights in the
room.  "Do you have any idea what that did to me?"

"I'm guessing it wasn't the greatest
experience you've ever had."

"Don't be flip."

"My hero."

"Do you think I'd have reacted any
differently if it had been any other detective – or any cop at all
for that matter?"

"I guess I'm hoping you wouldn't be keeping
vigil at a bedside talking about being torn between kisses and
scolding."

"You know exactly what I meant."

I changed the subject.  "What time is
it?"

"Around seven.  You got out of surgery
three hours ago."

"Have you been here all night?"

"…Yes."

I struggled to lift my right hand, finally
got it high enough to touch Orion's face.  "You shaved."

"It'll grow back.  It's already got a
good start."  He clasped my hand and pressed it to his lips,
then held it over his heart.  "You scared me, Helen."

"Back to the scolding, huh?  When do we
get to the kissing part?"

His lips brushed my forehead. 
"Better?"

It wasn't, but it was getting clearer. 
He cared – in a platonic sort of way.  Maybe Johnny was tired
of my methods, or as he called it,
evasive tactics
, and
ready to call it quits now.  I sighed.  "I guess I should
call for that nurse again.  My shoulder hurts like a son of a
bitch."

Orion nodded, laid my hand on the bed
again.  "You rest.  I'll go find her."

I was alone the next time I woke.  The
room was painfully bright.  I fumbled for the call light on
the bed.  My mouth felt like it had been packed with cotton,
and my shoulder ached so badly the fingers on my left hand felt
numb.

A different nurse appeared.  "You look
uncomfortable."

It was the obvious over-statement of the
year.  My face pinched into a frown.  Maybe it was a
grimace.

"If ten is the worst pain you've ever felt
–"

One word described my response:
obnoxious.  "Twelve thousand," I interrupted.  "Where's
the pain medicine?"  It was churlish and irritable and
probably scored twice that many points with the nurse on the
asshole patient scale
, but I didn't care.  I wanted the
good stuff that other nurse brought, the kind that knocked me out
and kept reality away for a few more hours.