| |
"Thank you so much for seeing us at this time of night, Dr. Vest," Michaela said with tears in her eyes as she watched the police vet carefully examine Angel's hind leg. She saw Angel wince as the veterinarian’s practiced fingers got close to the stab wound. She reached for Slade’s hand and squeezed it tightly.
"You're welcome, Michaela," Dr. Vest said as he looked over his bifocals at her, his kindly eyes noting her pain. "This is a bad wound and you've done a great job at giving Angel first aid." He turned his back to them and spoke to his vet assistant. He ordered a bunch of medicine and then glanced back at Angel who was watching him with a guarded expression.
Michaela was paralyzed with anxiety as she waited for Dr. Vest’s diagnosis and treatment plan. He continued to push and prod around Angel's leg as Angel whimpered and Mic’s heart twisted in pain. She rubbed his neck and ears to comfort him.
"Well, what do you think?" she finally asked, her heart beating at twice its normal beat. "Can you fix him?" she questioned, her voice strained and choked as she studied the vet’s kind face.
Dr. Vest nodded and said, "Yeah, I think we can. But, as much as I hate to, I'm gonna have to put him under general anesthesia. I wanna make sure I'm able to stitch the wound correctly because it’s deep and jagged.” He peered again at Angel’s leg and said, “Plus, I want to be certain there’s no nerve damage, particularly since this is close to the place where he took the bullet.” He paused and looked at Mic and Slade and added, “I need to be careful and avoid any scar tissue that might build up and get us in trouble later." He ruffled Angel’s fur and asked, "Is that okay with you, old boy?"
Angel gave the vet a searching look and then looked at Michaela for assurance. She smiled and lowered her face to his eye level. "It'll be okay, Angel," she promised him. "You're going to have an operation and while that's happening, Slade and I are going down to MCV and check on Dottie. Is that okay with you?"
“Seems to be," Dr. Vest noted as Angel thumped his tail weakly against the examining table.
Slade asked, "Are you sure you have to give him an anesthetic. Angel seems pretty old to be put under."
Michaela poked him in the ribs and admonished, "Don't say that, Slade. Think about Dottie. She's going to have to have anesthesia too.” She looked at him tearfully, “We can’t think like that now,” she added stubbornly.
Slade nodded and said, "Yeah, Mic, I hadn't thought of that."
Dr. Vest looked at the detective and said, "Slade, I think we’ll be okay. Of course, there’s more risk than there was a few years ago when we did surgery on his leg for the bullet, but honestly, I've got to see the extent of this wound and be sure I stitch it up properly so it heals. The last thing we need is Angel getting a wound infection.”
Slade nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay, I guess.”
Mic narrowed her eyes. “What’s up, Slade? Do you have a bad feeling about this or what?” she asked, her emerald eyes stared into his.
Slade didn’t respond and scratched Angel’s ears.
Mic could feel anxiety shooting up her back and knew she had to stay calm for Angel. She looked away from Slade.
Dr. Vest intervened. “Both of you know that if anything happens to Angel, I’m gonna be run out of town by one hundred percent of Richmond’s police force. This is,” he said as he looked down at Angel, “the most famous, decorated, and celebrated dog in Richmond’s long history of canine officers!”
Slade grinned, “Yup, ain’t that the truth. I know he’ll be fine, Dr. Vest. Right, Angel?” he said looking at the dog.
Angel thumped his tail again and Mic laughed. “Yeah, he’s gonna be okay.” She gave Dr. Vest a grateful look, “Thanks, Doctor.”
Vest looked at Mic and Slade. “I actually think Angel will be better than the two of you,” he quipped. “Now get out of here and let me get to work.”
“Angel’s a real trooper and he'll be fine,” Slade agreed.
Michaela looked up at the vet with tearful eyes. "Thank you so much. How long do you think this'll take?"
Dr. Vest considered the question and said, "The surgery will probably take a couple of hours and then he'll be groggy for a couple more. I'm planning to keep him pretty sedated for the first twenty-four hours, but you are certainly welcome to come and visit him anytime you want."
"Well," Michaela smiled. "You know we’ll do just that. When do you think I can take him home?"
Dr. Vest shrugged his shoulders and said, "Let's play it by ear, Michaela. I'm hopeful he can go home in a few days, but let's be careful. I want to make sure when I discharge him, he's as good as he was before he came in here."
"Okay, fair enough," Michaela said as tears streamed down her face. "We’ll be back a little later to check on him right, Slade?"
"Absolutely, thank you, Doctor," Slade said as he shook the older man's hand.
Michaela looked into Angel’s eyes and said, "Buddy, we’ll be back in a little while. You'll be feeling better then, I promise," she said as she wiped the tears from her eyes with her fist.
Angel gave her a doubtful look and laid his chin on his paws. He really wasn't too sure about any of this, but he raised his head, licked Mic’s nose and the tears from her cheek. He laid his head down again and closed his eyes, resigned to what was to come. Angel had dismissed them. It was time for them to leave.
"We’ll be back when you wake up, Angel. I promise,” she assured him as Angel feebly wagged his tail. She turned to Dr. Vest and asked, "Will you text me when he's out of surgery and I'll come back down here to see him?"
"Of course I will," he answered in his kindly voice as he waved them towards the door. "Now get out of here. Go catch some bad guys. I've got work to do." Slade opened the door for Michaela and they walked down the hall and out of the door in silence.
Slade steered Mic to her car and helped her in. He noticed the tears glistening on her face as she fastened her seatbelt he walked around to the other side of the car and got in.
"I really think he's going to be fine, Mic. We both know Dr. Vest is the best and knows what he's doing, right?"
Mic nodded her head and reached for her purse. She removed a new package of tissues and blew her nose. "Yeah, I know. He’ll be okay, I'm sure of that. I’m just worried, that’s all.”
Slade nodded and backed the SUV out of the parking space. "I’m gonna have somebody else pick up my vehicle. Are you able to talk about what happened tonight? We haven't talked about that yet."
Mic was silent for a moment and said, "Yeah, I can. Basically, I came home, I went into the kitchen, poured myself a whiskey and sat at the table for a few minutes. Then I saw a light through my back door so I got up and figured out it was the old guy across the alley out in his backyard."
Slade nodded and said, "What happened next?"
Michaela shrugged her shoulders and said, "I went upstairs, took a shower, put on my pajamas and walked over to get into bed. I heard a noise and someone cleared their throat. It was him. I looked up and he was at the foot of my bed. He had a knife.”
“Okay, then what happened?” Slade asked as he watched her carefully.
Mic’s face was pale and glistened with sweat. Her voice was almost a whisper. “He came toward me and I backed away from him, toward the head of my bed. I tried to get my gun out of the bedside table, but he already had it. It was in his pocket.” She paused for a moment. “Oh, I hit him in the side of the head with the lamp on my night table.”
Slade nodded. “So he’d been up there a while, or at least cased the place. Particularly since he had your gun.” Anger soared through Slade as he thought about a man in Mic’s bedroom, especially a man with a knife. He fought for control and to stay objective.
“Oh, hell yeah,” Mic said, “I’m sure he was in there the entire time I was in the shower,” she said, as an involuntary shiver raced through her body. She saw the whites of Slade’s knuckles as his hands clenched the steering wheel.
“Then he told me he’d been following me all day. I assumed he was one of the poisoners. I confronted him and he didn't deny it."
Slade watched the emotions flicker across Mic’s face. Her vivid green eyes were dark with anger and fear as she told her story. Slade felt the anger rising and again wrestled for control. “Then what happened, Mic?” he asked in a soft voice.
She paused for a moment and said, "He looked like a whack job. I tried to psych him out and he lost it. I bolted for the door, but he caught me and dragged me down the steps. We struggled some more and I stabbed him in the back of his neck with my high heel.” She paused for a moment and relived the scene in her mind.
Slade prodded her to continue. “Good for you,” he said with a smile.
“Then I think he knocked me unconscious because when I came to, Angel was on his chest and Dottie had her gun aimed on him. The man fought Angel and stabbed him with his knife. Dottie saw, or I think she saw that Angel was injured and ordered him to desist. Then she shot the perp in the shoulder, but I think he shot her first.” She paused and replayed the tapes in her mind. “This part’s a little fuzzy. I need to think about it some more. I can put more of the pieces together in a little while.”
Slade nodded and maneuvered the car skillfully onto the interstate headed for the Medical College of Virginia hospital. “Okay, but you’re positive he’s one of the poisoners?”
Michaela turned and stared at him. “Yeah. I’m absolutely positive he’s one of them. There’s no question in my mind.”
Slade nodded, “Description?”
Mic closed her eyes to remember. "He was in his late thirties or early forties, still had on the same blue shirt, dark, kind of greasy hair and dark eyes. He's a big guy probably close to six feet and heavy... not fat, just big. I'm sure he outweighed me by sixty or seventy pounds. I imagine he's at least hundred ninety pounds or maybe bigger," she added as she thought about the huge man on top of her. She hadn’t been able to use any of her defensive moves that had saved her so many times in the past. Her advantage over him had been speed and size, but she’d never a chance. “He was a brute, just a brute,” she finished.
Slade nodded. "That's the description that we had from someone who saw him running from your house. We've got an APB out on anyone who meets that description. I'm sure we’ll get some hits. It's just a matter of time," he said confidently. “By the way, I am afraid the perp murdered your neighbor, the one you call the ‘Old Geezer’ who lives behind you.”
Once again, tears popped into Mic’s eyes as she looked at Slade and said in a choked voice. “Oh no, he was out walking last night. I saw him with his flashlight from my back door. You mean the guy killed him?” Mic stifled a sob and wiped her eyes with her hand.
Slade nodded. “Yeah, I’m afraid so. Looks like he stabbed the old guy. His body was found between your house and the house next door. We think he’d come over to investigate.”
Mic shook her head as tears slid down her face.
“We’ll get him, Mic. We’ll get him, I promise,” Slade said as he focused on driving.
Michaela looked at his calm face and said in a shaky voice, "Yeah, I know we’ll get him. What I don't know is if we’ll get him before he and his friend do something horrible with the poison and kill a thousand people.”
Slade sighed heavily and nodded, his eyes on the road. There was little traffic on I-95 this time of the morning. "Are you feeling any better?" he asked as he reached over and placed his hand on her hand.
Mic shot him a quick smile. "Yeah. A little and you're right, we will, I know that look," she said. Suddenly, a huge realization raced through her head and she said, "Oh, Slade. I didn't tell you this. The guy has a snake tattoo on his hand.”
“Yeah,” Slade said softly. “A snake tattoo?” It sounded familiar to him.
Mic’s eyes were wide with realization. “Slade, come on, don’t you remember? The snake tattoo? It's the same tattoo the man had who tried to kill Danielle in the hospital a few months ago. Remember? The tattoo man. This has to be him. It's the same tattoo," she said excitedly. "I'd recognize it anywhere, anytime."
Slade stared at her out of the corner of his eye. He was excited. His heart rate picked up. "Of course! The tattoo man. He’d been the only loose end in their recent human trafficking case. RPD had killed most of the people, including a Bratva boss and other international criminals in a shoot-out at the port of Richmond. What the hell is going on? Is this another international crime incident? Why was a human trafficker now poisoning people? He picked up his phone, called SAC Burnley at the FBI and relayed Mic’s information.
Mic looked over at him and said, “The plot thickens. But what’s going on here, Slade? Do you have any ideas? Kidnapping, trafficking, poisoning? What’s the tie-in?"
“My guess is international terrorism,” Slade said as he pulled into the hospital emergency room entrance. He reached across her and opened the door. "Go on and get out,” he instructed. “I'm gonna call the unit to pick me up. I need to get back to the station. I’ll valet park the car. I need to get downtown and put all of this together.”
Mic nodded. “Keep me posted. Wait, was that a text? Who is it?” she asked as she watched him grab his phone from the console.
“It’s Cookie and she's waiting for you in the waiting area."
“Okay, thanks, Slade,” Michaela said softly. She gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.
“You gonna be okay, babe?” he asked as he searched her eyes.
“Yeah, just worried about Angel and Dottie, that’s all,” she said.
“They’re gonna be fine. Just hang tight and I’ll see you soon,” he promised.
Mic flashed him a strained smile as she reached the emergency room doors.