Murder One

26

“PAULA!”

Jones raced down the hospital corridor, his overcoat flapping behind him. He rounded a corner, skidded, reoriented himself, then peeled off in the next direction.

“Sir!” The nurse behind the receiving desk shot out of her chair, but she was much too slow to stop him. Jones was halfway down the corridor before she felt the breeze of his passing.

Jones kept racing, tracing the numbers posted by each door. 510, 512, 514 … There it was. 522.

He practically dove toward the door, but a uniformed security officer interceded before he had quite reached the threshold. “Excuse me, sir. That’s a private room.”

Jones tried to push past him, but the officer wouldn’t budge. “Is Paula Connelly in there?”

The officer’s eyes narrowed slightly. “May I see some identification, sir?”

“I don’t have time for this! I need to see her!”

The officer raised a firm hand, restraining. “I have instructions to prevent any unauthorized persons from entering the room.”

“I’m not unauthorized. I’m Jones!”

The officer pulled a list from his shirt pocket and scanned it. “First name?”

“Jones. Just Jones.”

“And your relationship with Ms. Connelly?”

“I’m her, er, boyfriend. I guess. Look, I’ve got to get in there!” The hospital room door opened slightly and a familiar face emerged. “Ben! Tell this lug to let me in.”

Ben gave the officer a nod. “He’s okay.” The officer relaxed and stepped away from the door.

Jones surged forward. “What’s his deal, anyway? Why the guard?”

“You’ll understand in a minute.”

Jones entered the room. Christina was seated next to the bed. And in the bed …

Her face was a ghastly white; even her lips seemed colorless. Her face was marred by blue-black bruises in several places. An IV was connected to her wrist; an emergency respirator covered her mouth.

Jones broke down on the spot. He crumbled beside the bed, his eyes wide and watery. “What happened?”

“We don’t know exactly,” Ben answered, in a quiet, solemn voice. “Someone attacked her when she came back to the office. Left her for dead. We don’t know how long she lay bleeding. No one found her till Christina came in this morning. Fortunately, she came in about four-thirty.”

Jones gently tugged back the edge of the sheet covering Paula’s pale fragile body. “What did they do to her?”

“She was stabbed. At least twice.”

Jones clenched his eyes shut. “With what?”

“We don’t know exactly. A knife, probably.” Ben turned his head. “A big one.”

“Is she … is she …?”

“We just don’t know, Jones,” Christina said softly. “The doctors haven’t told us anything. The wounds themselves were serious enough. She was barely breathing, and probably wouldn’t be now without the respirator. And she’d lost so much blood by the time I found her …” She shook her head, not finishing the sentence. Not that it was necessary.

Tears tumbled out of Jones’s eyes, one after the other, like a waterfall. “This is all my fault.”

“What?”

“She wanted to get married. I knew she did. She never said as much, but … I knew. And the crazy thing is—I wanted to get married, too. I just couldn’t bring myself to say the words. And now … now …”

Ben placed his hand on Jones’s shoulder. “Jones, don’t torture yourself. You couldn’t have known.”

“I should’ve known. I should’ve known that life is precious. And short. I shouldn’t’ve wasted so much time.”

Christina walked to the opposite side of the bed and wrapped her arms around him.

Ben stood silently by his friend. Which at a time like this, was about all he could do. Certainly words were useless.

After a long spate, Jones lifted his head and wiped the grief from his eyes. “Ben … I won’t be in the courtroom today.”

“Understood.”

“All your trial materials are ready and waiting for you. You shouldn’t have any problems …”

“Don’t even think about it, Jones.”

“I have to stay with her. I have to. Just in case. If there’s even a chance.”

“I know. I took that for granted.” Which was true. He had known Jones would want to remain here, even if the trial started without him, and even if Paula’s chances were … remote at best.

“Why?” Jones said, as if that single syllable spoke volumes. His fist clenched the bed sheet. “Why would anyone do this?”

“We don’t know,” Ben answered. “But she was attacked in the office. There was no sign of forced entry.”

“She was a librarian, for God’s sake!” Jones cried out. “She never did anything to anyone. She’d die before she’d hurt someone. How could anyone possibly be so cruel?”

“I don’t have the answers, Jones—”

“Do you think it has something to do with your damned Dalcanton case?”

Ben hesitated before answering. Hard words to say, but he couldn’t lie to Jones at a time like this. “I have to assume her attacker thought she was a member of my staff. Or Keri. Or me.”

Jones’s voice flattened. “That’s what I thought.”

“That’s what I think, too.”

Ben turned slowly and found, standing behind him, to his horror and disgust, Detective Sergeant Matthews.

“What in the name of God are you doing here?”

“I’m a detective, remember? I’ve been assigned to this case.”

Ben’s face was stony. “No way. No way in hell.”

“It’s already done.”

Ben glanced back at Jones. He didn’t need any more trauma in his life. He grabbed Matthews by the coat sleeve and jerked him outside the hospital room.

In the corridor, Ben pushed Matthews up against the wall and got quite literally in his face. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, Matthews, but—”

“The only thing I’m trying to do is my job. I’ve been told to investigate. So I’m investigating.”

“You can’t handle this case. You’re too close. You have too much animosity toward me—and my staff.”

“Says who?”

“Don’t play games. We both know it’s true. And that goes for you and all your Blue Squeeze buddies.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bull. Listen to my words, Matthews. I do not want you on this case.”

“Then file a complaint. Ain’t gonna break my heart if I have one less case to handle. But until I’m transferred, if I’m transferred, I have to do my job.”

“I’m taking this straight to Chief Blackwell.”

Matthews chuckled. “Oh yeah, that’ll do it. You two are so close and all. Listen to me for a minute, Kincaid, before you go flying off the handle. I know you don’t like me, and that’s okay. You ain’t exactly at the top of my hit parade, either. But understand this—I’m a cop. And I’m a good cop. Always have been. I get the job done. And I don’t like seeing crooks and killers get away unpunished. That was true with Joe McNaughton. And that’s true with this librarian woman, too. If you care anything about catching the bastard who cut her, you should be glad I’m on the case.”

“That sounds great in theory,” Ben said, his words even and measured. “But what if the bastard who did this is one of your cop buddies?” He leaned in so close Matthews couldn’t possibly escape his gaze. “Or you.”