Countdown - Iris Johansen [8]
Cira.
The name was triggering memory in Manning too. He had a vague recollection of a statue and the reconstruction side by side in a newspaper. “Convenient. Then maybe Duncan isn’t as good at her job as she—” He broke off as the door to the operating room opened and two green-garbed doctors strode out. “It looks like we may not have to do any pumping. The operation must be over.”
Sandra looked terrible, Jane thought when Joe, Eve, and Sandra walked into the waiting room. Haggard, pale, and twenty years older than when she’d seen her a month ago.
“I don’t understand.” Sandra stared at Jane accusingly. “What happened?”
“I told you what happened.” Eve’s hand closed supportingly on Sandra’s arm. “Jane doesn’t know any more than we do.”
“She has to know more. She was there.” Her lips tightened. “And what the hell were you doing in that alley behind a bar with my son, Jane? You should have known that all kinds of drug addicts and criminals could be hanging—”
“Easy, Sandra,” Eve said quietly. “I’m sure that she has an explanation. It’s not her fault that—”
“I don’t care whose fault it is. I want answers.” Tears began to roll down her cheeks. “And she promised me that—”
“I tried.” Jane’s hands clenched into fists at her side. “I didn’t know—I thought I was doing the right thing, Sandra.”
“He’s only a boy,” Sandra said. “My boy. He came to me from that dreadful mother and he became mine. This shouldn’t have happened to him. It shouldn’t have happened to us.”
“I know.” Jane’s voice was shaking. “I love him too. He’s always been like a little brother to me. I always tried to take care of him.”
“You did take care of him,” Joe said. “Sandra’s upset or she’d remember all the times you pulled him out of scrapes and kept him on the right path.”
“You talk as if he was a bad kid,” Sandra said. “Sometimes he didn’t think, but every boy has moments that—”
“He is a great kid.” Jane took a step closer. She wanted to reach out and touch her, comfort her, but Sandra stiffened and Jane stopped. “He’s smart and sweet and he—”
“Quinn?” Manning stood in the doorway. “The operation is over and Doctor Benjamin is on his way to talk to you all. Fox and I will get in touch with you later.”
The detective was carefully looking at no one but Joe, avoiding everyone else’s eyes, Jane realized.
Oh, God.
“Mike?” Sandra whispered. “Mike?” She’d interpreted Manning’s action the same way Jane had, and her eyes were wide with terror.
“The doctor will talk to you.” Manning quickly turned and left the room, passing the surgeon on his way out.
Doctor Benjamin’s expression was grave and sympathetic—and sad.
“No,” Jane whispered. “No. No. No.”
“I’m sorry,” the doctor said. “I can’t tell you how—”
Sandra screamed.
He’s dead, Trevor,” Bartlett said. “The kid died on the operating table.”
“Shit.” It was the worst-case scenario in an already bad situation. “When?”
“Two hours ago. They just left the hospital. Jane looked like hell.”
Trevor swore. “Are Quinn and Eve with her?”
“Yes, they showed up at the hospital right before the kid died.”
Then at least Jane had family support and protection. “Do you know when they’re having the funeral?”
“Hey, it just happened. And you told me to watch her but not to contact her.”
“Find out.”
“Are you going to the funeral?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Do you want me to come back to the Run?”
“Hell, no. Stay there and keep an eye on her. She’s more vulnerable now than ever.”
“You think it was Grozak?”
“Good chance. The coincidence is a little too pat for comfort. They wanted Jane and the kid got in the way.”
“Sad.” Bartlett’s voice was heavy. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I failed her. I had no idea. It happened so fast. She disappeared with the kid into the alley and the next thing I knew the car was roaring out into the street.”
“It wasn’t your fault. We weren’t even sure that Grozak was on the scene. You hadn’t seen any suspicious signs.”
“Sad,” Bartlett repeated. “Life is precious and he was very young.”
“So is Jane. And I don’t want Grozak to get his hands on her.