Protector - Laurel Dewey [41]
Jane lost herself for a moment. “Well, that’s great,” she said with no emotion as she stared down the sterile hallway.
“I’ll let you visit with your dad.”
“Uh-huh,” Jane replied. Zoe walked back to her station but Jane didn’t move. She started to turn back toward the front door but stopped when she saw several nurses looking at her. Reluctantly, she walked down the hall to her father’s door and stood to the side, out of his view. Jane let out a deep breath and crossed the threshold.
Dale Perry was propped up in bed, eyes glued to the television screen that was tuned to Court TV. The sound was muted. Dozens of greeting cards were pinned to the wall on either side of his bed. Vases of long stemmed flowers graced both bedside tables. A banner stretched the length of the opposite wall. In red and black letters it read, “GET WELL, DALE!” which was followed by “Your pals at Denver PD!”
Her father was hooked to an IV and heart monitor. An oxygen tank sat nearby. Jane stood inside the doorway, waiting. Dale turned his head on his pillow and looked at her. He appeared to have aged ten years compared to the day Jane went out to his house to fix the VCR. The only thing that remained sharp and stoic was his grey, regimented buzz haircut. It reminded Jane of the quills on a porcupine—sharp, rigid and ready to attack.
“You got the message,” Dale said, his speech slightly slurred. “I bet that nurse ten bucks you wouldn’t show. Make sure you pay her the money on the way out.” Jane didn’t move a muscle. “You gonna plant your ass in a chair or are you gonna just stand there like some retard?” Jane carefully moved to a bedside chair and sat down. “You look like hell,” Dale said, eyeing Jane like a perp. Jane looked off to the side, pursing her lips, as Dale glared at Jane. “Where’s your brother?” he said, his voice slightly raised.
“He couldn’t make it,” Jane said, looking at the television screen.
Dale stared even more intently at Jane. “He’s in the car, isn’t he?”
“Yeah.”
“The weak little fuck is hiding out. Shit.”
Jane kept her eyes glued to the television. Her heart raced and her head pounded. She figured that if she avoided his eyes, he wouldn’t be able to drill into her head. “Why do you have the sound off?”
“I don’t need sound to hear a fuckin’ lie. It’s not what they say, it’s what they do. Didn’t you learn anything?”
“What’s the case?” Jane said, still focused on the television.
“The defendant is charged with murdering his wife and kids. But they can’t find the bodies. The fucker on the stand is a defense witness. He’s a friend of the fucker who killed his wife and kids. Look at him. There! Look how he touched his mouth and glanced over to the defendant. I bet that asshole helped him dump the bodies. It’s so obvious. He’s like one big open sore and nobody can see the pus. They’re blind!” Dale screamed at the television. “They miss what they don’t want to see.” Dale looked over at Jane and her bandaged hand. “Christ, you still have that goddamn hand bandaged? That was one of your less intelligent moments.”
Jane took her eyes off the screen and turned toward her father. “Trying to get a kid out of a burning car?”
Dale let out a slight snicker. “The fucking car’s engulfed in flames and you decide to suspend common sense and try to punch a fucking hole in the window with your fist. Jane, do the fucking math. That kid was gonna die either way. You should have saved your hand.” Dale turned to Jane, meeting her eye to eye. “But you actually believed you were going to be the hero, didn’t you? Didn’t I teach you that lesson a long time ago?”
Dale’s words cut to the bone. Once again, she’d let her guard down and he was worming his way back inside her head. She quickly turned back to the TV. A smile creased Dale’s face. “You’re so easy,” he said, the venom dripping from his mouth. “You don’t know who blew them up, do you?”
“No,” Jane whispered.
“That’s because you haven’t followed the right road. You take what you know and find the right road and it always leads to the killer. What you know