Extreme Denial Part 17

"And when I told you to put some clothes on, you took for granted you couldn't go into the bedroom to get them, not until the forensics crew was finished in there."

"That seemed logical, too. I guess I've seen a lot of crime shows on TV."

"And where did you learn to shoot so well?"

"In the military."

"Ah," Esperanza said.

"Look, I need to know about my friend."

Esperanza nodded.

"I'm so worried about her, I can hardly concentrate." Esperanza nodded again. "I tell you what, why don't we stop by the hospital on our way to the police station?"

"Police station?" Decker said.

"So you can make your statement."

"Isn't that what I'm doing now?"

"The one at the station is official."

A phone, Decker thought. He needed to get to a pay phone and call his former employer. He had to tell them what had happened. He had to find out how they wanted to handle this.

A policeman came into the kitchen. "Sergeant, the medical examiner says it's all right now for Mr. Decker to go into the bedroom to get some clothes."

Decker stood.

"While we're in there, let's do a walk-through," Esperanza said. "It would be helpful if you showed us exactly how it happened. Also ..."

"Yes?"

"I know it'll be difficult, but this is hardly an ordinary situation. It would save a lot of time if we knew right away rather than waited until tomorrow."

"I don't understand what you mean," Decker said. "What do you want me to do?"

"Look at the faces."

"What?"

"Of the bodies. Here, instead of in the morgue. Maybe you can identify them. Before, in the dark, you couldn't have seen what they looked like. Now that the lights are back on ..."

Decker wanted to look at the bodies in case he recognized them, but he had to pretend to be reluctant. "I don't think my stomach would ... I'd throw up."

"You're not obligated. There are alternatives. The forensics crew is taking photographs. You can examine those. Or look at the bodies later in the morgue. But photographs don't always provide a good likeness, and rigor mortis might distort the features of the corpses so they don't seem familiar to you even if you've crossed paths with them before. Right now, though, not long after the attack, there's always a possibility that..."

Decker couldn't stop thinking about Beth. He had to get to the hospital. Continuing to feign reluctance, he said, "G.o.d help me. Yes, I'll look at them."

3.

Wearing jeans and a gray cotton sweater, Decker sat in a rigid chair in the almost-deserted waiting room of the emergency ward at St. Vincent's Hospital. A clock on the wall showed that it was almost six-thirty. The fluorescent lights in the ceiling hurt his eyes. To the left, outside the door to the waiting room, Esperanza was talking to a policeman who stood next to a teenage boy with a bruised face who was strapped to a gurney. Esperanza's battered boots, faded jeans, shoulder-length hair, and leather cowboy hat made him look like anything except a police detective.

As a hospital attendant wheeled the gurney through electronically controlled swinging doors that led into the emergency ward, Esperanza entered the brightly lit waiting area. His long legs and lanky frame gave him a graceful stride that reminded Decker of a panther. The detective pointed toward the gurney. "An accident victim. Drunk driving. Fiesta weekend. Typical. Any news about your friend?"

"No. The receptionist said a doctor would come out to see me." Decker slumped lower in his chair. His head felt as if someone had tied a strap around it. He rubbed his face, feeling scratchy beard stubble, smelling gunpowder on his hands. He kept thinking about Beth.

"Sometimes, under stress, memory can take a while," Esperanza said. "You're sure the bodies you looked at didn't seem familiar?"

"To the best of my knowledge, I've never seen them before." The cloying smell of blood still lingered in Decker's nostrils. The dead men had all appeared to be in their twenties. They were husky, wore dark outdoor clothes, and had Mediterranean features-possibly Greek, or maybe French. Or were they ...? The previous evening, at the Fiesta party, Decker had brooded about his last a.s.signment for the Agency. Rome. Could the olive-skinned gunmen have been Italian? Did the attack on his house have something to do with what had happened in Rome a year and a quarter ago? If only Esperanza would leave him alone long enough so he could make a phone call.

"Mr. Decker, the reason I asked you if you'd ever been in law enforcement is, I can't get over what you managed to do. Four men break in with a.s.sault weapons. They blow the h.e.l.l out of your house. And you manage to kill all four of them with a handgun. Doesn't that seem strange to you?"

"Everything about this is strange. I still can't believe ..."

"Most people would have been so overwhelmed with fear, they'd have hidden when they heard someone breaking in."

"That's why Beth and I ran to the walk-in closet."

"But not before you grabbed the pistol you keep in your bedside drawer. You're a Realtor, you mentioned."

"Yes."

"Why would you feel the need to keep a pistol by your bed?"

"Home protection."

"Well, it's been my experience that pistols for home protection don't do much good," Esperanza said. "Because the owners themselves aren't any good with them. Family members end up getting shot. Innocent bystanders get hit. Oh, we have plenty of gun clubs in the area. And there are plenty of hunters. But I don't care how often you've practiced with a pistol at the firing range or how frequently you've gone hunting-when four men come at you with heavy artillery, you're lucky if you have time to p.i.s.s your pants from fright before they kill you."

"I was scared, all right."

"But it didn't impair your abilities. If you'd been in law enforcement, if you'd been tested under fire, I could understand."

"I told you I was in the military."

"Yes." The weathered creases around Esperanza's eyes deepened. "You did tell me that. What was your outfit?"

"The Rangers. Look, I don't know what you're getting at," Decker said impatiently. "The army taught me to handle a pistol, and when the time came, I was lucky enough to remember how to use it. You're making me feel as if I did something wrong. Is it a crime to defend myself and my friend against a gang that breaks into my house and starts shooting? Everything's turned upside down. The crooks are the good guys, and decent citizens are-"

"Mr. Decker, I'm not saying you did anything wrong. There'll have to be an inquest and you'll have to testify. That's the law. All shootings, even justified ones, have to be investigated to the fullest. But the truth is, I admire your resourcefulness and your presence of mind. Not many ordinary citizens would have survived what you went through. For that matter, I'm not sure I'd have been able to handle myself any better in your circ.u.mstance."

"Then I don't get it. If you're not saying I did anything wrong, what are you saying?"

"I'm just making observations."

"Well, this is my observation. The only reason I'm alive is that I got angry. Furious. Those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds broke into my home. The sons of b.i.t.c.hes. They shot my friend. They ... I got so angry, I stopped being afraid. All I wanted was to protect Beth, and by G.o.d, I managed that. I'm proud of that. I don't know if I should admit that to you, but I am proud. And this might not be the sort of thing to tell a police officer, either, but I will anyhow. If I had to, I'd do the same d.a.m.ned thing over again and be proud of it. Because I stopped the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds from killing Beth."

"You're a remarkable man, Mr. Decker."

"Hey, I'm no hero."

"I didn't say that."

"All I am is awfully lucky."

"Right."

A doctor appeared at the entrance to the waiting room. He was short and slight, in his thirties, wearing hospital greens and a stethoscope around his neck. He had small round spectacles. "Is one of you Stephen Decker?"

Decker quickly stood. "Can you tell me how my friend is doing?"

"She sustained a flesh wound just below her shoulder. The bleeding has been stopped. The wound has been sterilized and sutured. She's responding to treatment. Barring unforeseen complications, she ought to recover satisfactorily."

Decker closed his eyes and murmured, "Thank G.o.d."

"Yes, there's a lot to give thanks for," the doctor said. "When your friend arrived at the hospital, she was in shock. Her blood pressure was low. Her pulse was erratic. Fortunately her life signs are back to normal."

Back to normal? Decker thought. He worried that things would never be back to normal. "When will she be able to go home?"

"I don't know yet. We'll see how well she continues to improve."

"Can I see her?"

"She needs rest. I can't let you stay long."

Esperanza stepped forward. "Is she alert enough to make a statement to the police?"

The doctor shook his head. "If I didn't think it was therapeutic for her to see Mr. Decker, I wouldn't allow even him to visit."

4.

Beth looked pasty. Her auburn hair, normally lush-looking, was tangled, without a sheen. Her eyes were sunken.

Given the circ.u.mstances, to Decker she had never seemed more beautiful.

After the doctor left, Decker shut the door, muting noises from the corridor. He studied Beth a moment longer, felt a tightness in his throat, went over to the bed, held the hand that wasn't in a sling, then leaned down and kissed her.

"How are you feeling?" He took care not to brush against the intravenous tube leading into her left arm.

Beth shrugged listlessly, obviously affected by sedation.

"The doctor says you're coming along fine," Decker said.

Beth tried to speak, but Decker couldn't make out what she said.

Beth tried once more, licked her dry lips, then pointed toward a plastic cup filled with water. It had a curved straw, which Decker placed between her lips. She sipped.

"How are you?" she whispered hoa.r.s.ely.

"Shook up."

"Yeah," Beth said with effort.

"How's the shoulder?"

"Sore." Her eyelids looked heavy.

"I bet."

"I hate to imagine what it'll feel like"-Beth winced- "when the painkillers wear off." For a moment, she managed to tighten her fingers around his hand. Then her grip weakened. She was having trouble keeping her eyes open. "Thank you."

"I would never let anything happen to you."

"I know," Beth said.

"I love you."

Decker could barely hear what she said next.

"Who ...?"

Decker completed the question he took for granted she was trying to ask. "Who were they? I don't know." He felt as if ashes were in his mouth. All he could think of was that the woman he had devoted his life to wouldn't be in the hospital if not for him. "But believe me, I d.a.m.ned well intend to find out."

Not that Beth heard him. Her dark-rimmed eyes drooped shut. She had drifted off to sleep.

5.

Lack of sleep made Decker's own eyes feel pained by the glare of the morning sun as Esperanza drove him along Camino Lindo. The time was almost 9:30. They had spent the last two hours at the police station. Now Esperanza was taking him home.

"I'm sorry about all the inconvenience," the sinewy detective said, "but the judge at the inquest will want to make sure I eliminated all kinds of absolutely ridiculous possibilities."