Guilt By Degrees

58

I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Even Bailey had to make an effort to keep up as I trotted out to the car, taking deep breaths of cold air to get the stench of the jail out of my nose. When we got to the car, I rolled down the window and stuck my head out, but after a couple of minutes I got too cold and quickly rolled it back up. Bailey headed for Vignes Street.

“What a waste of flesh,” I said.

“A real gem,” Bailey agreed. She glanced at her watch. The clock in her department-issue car had never worked. “It’s just about seven o’clock. We should hit Dominic tomorrow.”

“That’ll work.”

“I might hang out at the bar with Drew for a while,” she said. “Want to come?”

That didn’t sound bad. A nice dry martini, some laughs with Bailey and Drew. The perfect combination to wipe out the foul smell of the Hellmouth and the stench of that white-supremacist pig. She parked on the street in the ten-minute drop-off zone and ignored the thunderous looks from Rafi, the valet.

“I’m going up to the room to bleach myself and burn my clothes, but then I’ll be down.”

Bailey laughed. I didn’t.

She headed for the bar, and I hit the up button for the elevator. It’d been a full day and I was glad to have the elevator to myself, as there were no annoying stops along the way. I walked down the hallway toward my room, plotting the questions I’d ask skinhead kingpin Dominic when we saw him tomorrow.

As I passed the narrow corridor that led to the fire escape, I felt a rush of cold air. I stopped to see if someone had left the door open when something slammed against me with the force of a steel wrecking ball. I flew a few feet until I hit the far wall and fell to the floor. Before I could push myself up or get my bearings, a heavy boot landed a vicious kick to my kidney. I reflexively curled up to protect my head, but a gloved hand grabbed me by the hair and banged my head on the ground with so much force the impact reverberated through my brain. The color red filled my eyes. Then everything went dark.

I didn’t even know I’d been unconscious until I came to. When I cracked open my eyes, I saw that I was still lying on the floor. My head was throbbing so badly I couldn’t lift it, and my stomach was seesawing, making me afraid to stand up. I felt around for my purse but couldn’t find it. I tried to open my eyes further, but the light stung. I decided to lie there a little while longer since I didn’t seem to be able to do anything else.

I must’ve blacked out again, because the next thing I knew, paramedics were strapping me onto a gurney and Bailey was hovering nearby, looking worried. As they began to roll me down the hall, I spoke to her.

“It’s okay,” I said. But she didn’t respond. Maybe I hadn’t said it out loud? I opened my mouth to try and speak louder, but the blackness closed over me again.

When I woke for the third time, I was in a hospital bed, and Bailey and Toni were on either side of me-bent in weird positions on uncomfortable-looking orange plastic chairs.

I slowly pulled myself up into a sitting position-a victory. Then the world began to swim, and I vomited. Victory may have been an overstatement. My head felt like someone was using a hammer to drive sharp metal rods through it, and I involuntarily groaned. Bailey and Toni were at my side in an instant.

“I’m fine, really,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. Sounds were going to be difficult for me, I could tell. “Just a headache.”

“Sure,” Toni said. “Just lie back and take it easy. You’re lucky to be alive.”

“Does anyone else know about this yet?” I asked.

“No,” Toni replied. “But they’re going to-”

I reached out to grab Toni’s arm, but it was too much movement, too fast. I fell back against the pillows.

“No, Tone,” I said weakly. “Not yet.”

I knew my condition wasn’t helping my cause any, so I tried to put a little more force in my voice.

“They might take me off the case,” I said. “Give us a couple of days to figure out what this is. What if it’s just some random purse snatch?”

Toni looked at me skeptically, then at Bailey.

“What do you say?” Toni asked her.

Bailey looked torn.

“It may not be related.” She paused. “You think they’ll take her off the case if we report?”

“It’s possible,” Toni admitted.

“She can hear you,” I said, annoyed enough to momentarily forget how lousy I felt.

Neither of them seemed fazed. I closed my eyes but could clearly imagine the expressions on their faces: Toni eyeing me skeptically, Bailey frowning her disapproval.

After a few moments, Bailey sighed. “Hold off for a day or so, until we sort it out.”

I opened my eyes, relieved. Toni started to object, but Bailey looked at her pointedly. Toni nodded and said nothing.

“Did you get a look at him?” Bailey asked.

I shook my head, which hurt, so I stopped. “No.” I closed my eyes to try and visualize the attack. “But I did see a hand. It was in a glove, but I could tell it was a man’s hand.”

That little speech ended my limited energy reserve. My eyes stayed shut and didn’t open again until morning. By that time, the doctor said I was in good enough shape to go home. I called Toni and Bailey, who were in the hospital cafeteria, and told them I was released.

“You are not going back there by yourself,” Bailey said. “I’m staying with you. You’ve got the space. And besides, I could use some room service.”

“And if she gets busy with Drew, I’ll be there,” Toni said.

“Fine,” I said.

Though I wouldn’t admit it, I liked the idea of having them there. Bailey drove us all back to the Biltmore. When we got to the room, they tucked me in and shook out my prescribed happy pills.

“I’m not taking these,” I said, putting the pills on the nightstand. “They’ll knock me out and I’ll be out of it all day tomorrow. We don’t have that kind of time to lose.”

Bailey and Toni exchanged a look.

“What?” I said. “It was a bump on the head, not a brain tumor.”

“Take one pill so you can sleep tonight-which means I’ll get to sleep tonight-and we’ll hit it tomorrow. Okay?”

I took one pill and within minutes drifted off.

When I woke up the next morning, I was hurting all over. I looked at my alarm clock. Only 7:30 a.m. I had a whole day ahead of me if I got my ass in gear. Gingerly, I moved out of bed one limb at a time. One leg, then the other, then an arm-pretty soon, I was sitting up with my feet on the floor. I stood up slowly, one hand on the bed for balance, then let go. I was standing. I looked in the mirror. The right side of my torso was covered in dark bruises, and my right cheek and shoulder were both bruised and badly scraped. My eyes were swollen and there was a big, ugly lump on my forehead. It’d hurt, but I’d have to do a serious makeup job if I didn’t want to scare small children.

I slowly inched my way out to the living room. I looked into the spare room and saw that Bailey was still in bed. She wouldn’t be for long. I called room service and ordered us breakfast and two large pots of coffee, then painfully shuffled to the bathroom and took a long, hot shower, stretching carefully under the warm spray to try and loosen up.

“How’re you doing?” Bailey greeted me when I came back out to the living room, dressed and ready for the day. “You look good for someone who got clocked like that.”

“I’m fine,” I lied. “A little wobbly, but not bad.”

Room service had come and set up our breakfasts. Bailey gestured for me to sit down and poured us both coffee.

She took the silver cover off her plate and inhaled the rich sweetness of her French toast. “Room service,” Bailey said with a look of supreme satisfaction. “So good to be here.” She took a sip of coffee, then added, “And, you know, to be here for you too.”

I was going to take issue with her priorities but figured that coming in second to room service was probably a step up. I savored my first bite of my ham-and-cheese omelet splurge and tried to replay the attack in my mind.

“Did he take my purse?” I asked. The paramedics had found my gun in my coat pocket. A lot of good it’d done me.

“Good news and bad news,” Bailey said, digging into her hash browns.

“Bad news,” I said.

“He took your wallet.”

“Good news?”

“He left your purse; we called and canceled all your credit cards already, and from what I remember, you didn’t have much cash on you.”

That’s right. I’d offered to leave a tip for the waitress at Marie Callender’s and didn’t have enough. And I was going to have to get another driver’s license. Worse, I’d have to get another driver’s license photograph.

“I’ve never had any problems here before, and I haven’t heard of anyone else having a problem like this either,” I said.

“I know,” Bailey agreed. “And even though there’s no such thing as ‘can’t happen here,’ this has got me thinking.”

I’d been thinking about it too. In fact, from the moment I woke up in the hospital.

There was nothing near that fire escape but my room. “He was waiting for me.”