Insidious
Page 86
“He’d better,” she called back before she closed the ambulance door. “I mean look at him. He’s the whole package.” Police were all around Cam now, more cop cars pouring in. Only then did she turn to look down at Doc. She’d thought he was dead, but there were paramedics surrounding him, busy trying to keep him alive.
She saw his eyelashes flicker. She knelt down beside him and leaned in close.
He opened his eyes, empty and vague as he stared up at her.
“Tell me one thing before you leave this earth. Where did you go when you left the hospital for those forty minutes the night Deborah was murdered?”
A ghost of a smile. “I went to visit Gloria Swanson. She wasn’t home. I went back last night—didn’t work out—but lots more nights—”
He died with a rictus of a smile on his mouth. She watched them start pumping on his chest and pushing air into his lungs. She watched as they put him on a gurney and moved him to an ambulance. She’d seen enough to know she’d heard his voice for the last time. She didn’t move until she heard Markham yelling for her from the house, still bound tight to his chair with duct tape.
EPILOGUE
* * *
SANTA MONICA COMMUNITY HOSPITAL
SUNDAY AFTERNOON
Missy and Cam stood by Daniel’s bed in the step-down unit. They knew he was awake, saw his eyelashes flutter, but they didn’t say anything, let him rest. They listened to the bubbling sound of the suction machine, a pleurovac, a nurse called it, connected to a tube in Daniel’s chest.
“So many tubes and lines,” Missy whispered. “I’m afraid to touch him.” But she did, lightly stroking his forearm above an IV site at his wrist.
His eyelashes fluttered again. Missy leaned down, her breath warm on his face. “Daniel, open those beautiful eyes of yours and wink at me.” He couldn’t seem to make his eyes open, to reassure her. He felt like a boulder was sitting on his chest. It didn’t hurt much now, but he knew it would if he tried to move.
He heard Missy say, “He’s so pale, Cam. It’s like he’s hardly here.” She sounded like she was going to cry and he hated that. He forced his eyes open but knew he looked vague, confused.
“Hello, Daniel,” Cam said, leaning close. “Don’t worry about a thing. You’re going to be fine, your surgeon said you came through surgery like a champ. You only need time now, time to heal.” She wasn’t about to tell him about the hours they’d spent in the waiting room, afraid he would die.
Missy pressed the morphine pump into his hand. “If you have pain, you push the magic button.”
Daniel tried to smile, to say something. He wanted to tell her she looked beautiful, her hair tousled all over her head. But he felt strangely disconnected, no words in his brain. Cam was smiling down at him, so she was safe, and that was a relief. He whispered, “Doc?”
“He’s dead,” Cam said, nothing more.
“Markham?”
“He’s in jail, but I doubt for long. His lawyers are proclaiming Markham is innocent, getting the word out everywhere in the press. They’re using Mrs. Markham to make a hero out of him, how he saved her life by confessing with a gun to his head. For now, she’s standing by him. We’re going to need some physical evidence. We’ve served some warrants, started talking to those people at the party he slipped out of. But that’s not for you to worry about. Your assignment is to heal yourself, all right?”
He felt the warmth of Missy’s voice beside his left ear. “Cam told me she had you thinking about me, about us, to keep you going, back there. I had to tell her she was a bit premature, seeing as how we haven’t even gone to the movies or out to my favorite Italian restaurant yet. You haven’t even kissed me. Well, I can take care of half of that.” Missy leaned down and lightly kissed him. “I’ll give you a week to reciprocate.” She smiled at him, but then her voice hitched. “Don’t you ever let this happen again, Daniel Montoya. Do you hear me?”
He whispered, “I saw you dressed in your cutoff jeans and orange tank top, your hair all over your head. Snapped me right back.”
Missy laughed, a small one, but it was a laugh. She said, “Look, Arturo’s here. He’s been bitching and moaning until they finally released him. He said he’d stop by, wanted to make sure you weren’t going to fold up your tent and leave him to face Markham’s lawyers alone.”
He heard Arturo’s deep voice, “Hey, dude, looks like I’m beating you out of this place. You’ve got to get well so we can rock ’n’ roll with Markham. Your sheriff, Murray, agrees with me. You’re needed.”
Arturo’s too-hearty voice faded. Daniel wanted to say something, but the pain spiked. He wanted to scream with it, but he didn’t. The pain took over. Then he felt Missy’s fingers lightly press his fingers on the morphine button. It was amazing how fast the pain began to recede. But as it backed off, it took his brain away with it. All he could manage was a vague smile in Arturo’s direction.
Cam said, “My folks were here, Daniel. Mom left her famous chicken soup. The nurse said maybe tomorrow. Dad wanted you to know they’ll be throwing a party for you when you get out.”
The thought of chicken soup made him swallow bile. He heard a woman’s voice, and somewhere in his brain he recognized she was the surgeon who’d taken the bullet out of his chest. He wanted to thank her, but the words floated away.
Dr. Soufret checked her patient’s vitals, inspected the bandages over his chest, relieved there wasn’t much fluid draining through the tube. She shoved her glasses back up her nose and looked at Arturo. “I hear both you and Detective Montoya were heroes last night. Congratulations. Now, all of you, let me reassure you that Detective Montoya will heal. I’ll be taking the chest tube out soon, which won’t be fun for him. Let’s leave him alone, let him rest.” She paused a moment, looked at Missy. “What’s your name?”
“Missy Devereaux.”
Dr. Soufret smiled at her. “He was mumbling your name over and over before he went under for surgery. All of you can come back later.” She stopped in the doorway. “A warning. There’s a swarm of reporters downstairs. Nurse Hopkins can show you the back stairs, if you wish.”
Cam took a last look at Daniel. He would live. But five young women were gone, their lives ended by a madman. Six including Deborah, murdered by a man too much a coward to come forward, a man blinded by his hunger for revenge. It was almost too much to bear.
She saw his eyelashes flicker. She knelt down beside him and leaned in close.
He opened his eyes, empty and vague as he stared up at her.
“Tell me one thing before you leave this earth. Where did you go when you left the hospital for those forty minutes the night Deborah was murdered?”
A ghost of a smile. “I went to visit Gloria Swanson. She wasn’t home. I went back last night—didn’t work out—but lots more nights—”
He died with a rictus of a smile on his mouth. She watched them start pumping on his chest and pushing air into his lungs. She watched as they put him on a gurney and moved him to an ambulance. She’d seen enough to know she’d heard his voice for the last time. She didn’t move until she heard Markham yelling for her from the house, still bound tight to his chair with duct tape.
EPILOGUE
* * *
SANTA MONICA COMMUNITY HOSPITAL
SUNDAY AFTERNOON
Missy and Cam stood by Daniel’s bed in the step-down unit. They knew he was awake, saw his eyelashes flutter, but they didn’t say anything, let him rest. They listened to the bubbling sound of the suction machine, a pleurovac, a nurse called it, connected to a tube in Daniel’s chest.
“So many tubes and lines,” Missy whispered. “I’m afraid to touch him.” But she did, lightly stroking his forearm above an IV site at his wrist.
His eyelashes fluttered again. Missy leaned down, her breath warm on his face. “Daniel, open those beautiful eyes of yours and wink at me.” He couldn’t seem to make his eyes open, to reassure her. He felt like a boulder was sitting on his chest. It didn’t hurt much now, but he knew it would if he tried to move.
He heard Missy say, “He’s so pale, Cam. It’s like he’s hardly here.” She sounded like she was going to cry and he hated that. He forced his eyes open but knew he looked vague, confused.
“Hello, Daniel,” Cam said, leaning close. “Don’t worry about a thing. You’re going to be fine, your surgeon said you came through surgery like a champ. You only need time now, time to heal.” She wasn’t about to tell him about the hours they’d spent in the waiting room, afraid he would die.
Missy pressed the morphine pump into his hand. “If you have pain, you push the magic button.”
Daniel tried to smile, to say something. He wanted to tell her she looked beautiful, her hair tousled all over her head. But he felt strangely disconnected, no words in his brain. Cam was smiling down at him, so she was safe, and that was a relief. He whispered, “Doc?”
“He’s dead,” Cam said, nothing more.
“Markham?”
“He’s in jail, but I doubt for long. His lawyers are proclaiming Markham is innocent, getting the word out everywhere in the press. They’re using Mrs. Markham to make a hero out of him, how he saved her life by confessing with a gun to his head. For now, she’s standing by him. We’re going to need some physical evidence. We’ve served some warrants, started talking to those people at the party he slipped out of. But that’s not for you to worry about. Your assignment is to heal yourself, all right?”
He felt the warmth of Missy’s voice beside his left ear. “Cam told me she had you thinking about me, about us, to keep you going, back there. I had to tell her she was a bit premature, seeing as how we haven’t even gone to the movies or out to my favorite Italian restaurant yet. You haven’t even kissed me. Well, I can take care of half of that.” Missy leaned down and lightly kissed him. “I’ll give you a week to reciprocate.” She smiled at him, but then her voice hitched. “Don’t you ever let this happen again, Daniel Montoya. Do you hear me?”
He whispered, “I saw you dressed in your cutoff jeans and orange tank top, your hair all over your head. Snapped me right back.”
Missy laughed, a small one, but it was a laugh. She said, “Look, Arturo’s here. He’s been bitching and moaning until they finally released him. He said he’d stop by, wanted to make sure you weren’t going to fold up your tent and leave him to face Markham’s lawyers alone.”
He heard Arturo’s deep voice, “Hey, dude, looks like I’m beating you out of this place. You’ve got to get well so we can rock ’n’ roll with Markham. Your sheriff, Murray, agrees with me. You’re needed.”
Arturo’s too-hearty voice faded. Daniel wanted to say something, but the pain spiked. He wanted to scream with it, but he didn’t. The pain took over. Then he felt Missy’s fingers lightly press his fingers on the morphine button. It was amazing how fast the pain began to recede. But as it backed off, it took his brain away with it. All he could manage was a vague smile in Arturo’s direction.
Cam said, “My folks were here, Daniel. Mom left her famous chicken soup. The nurse said maybe tomorrow. Dad wanted you to know they’ll be throwing a party for you when you get out.”
The thought of chicken soup made him swallow bile. He heard a woman’s voice, and somewhere in his brain he recognized she was the surgeon who’d taken the bullet out of his chest. He wanted to thank her, but the words floated away.
Dr. Soufret checked her patient’s vitals, inspected the bandages over his chest, relieved there wasn’t much fluid draining through the tube. She shoved her glasses back up her nose and looked at Arturo. “I hear both you and Detective Montoya were heroes last night. Congratulations. Now, all of you, let me reassure you that Detective Montoya will heal. I’ll be taking the chest tube out soon, which won’t be fun for him. Let’s leave him alone, let him rest.” She paused a moment, looked at Missy. “What’s your name?”
“Missy Devereaux.”
Dr. Soufret smiled at her. “He was mumbling your name over and over before he went under for surgery. All of you can come back later.” She stopped in the doorway. “A warning. There’s a swarm of reporters downstairs. Nurse Hopkins can show you the back stairs, if you wish.”
Cam took a last look at Daniel. He would live. But five young women were gone, their lives ended by a madman. Six including Deborah, murdered by a man too much a coward to come forward, a man blinded by his hunger for revenge. It was almost too much to bear.
