Chapter Twenty-One

 

When Kareem had his fill of his baby sister, Radhauser walked him down the hallway to Room 325. Just outside the door, Kareem put Radhauser’s cowboy hat back on.

The room held two beds, but the other one was empty. Daria appeared to be dozing. She wore a printed hospital gown. Her blood-stained niqab covered everything except her eyes.

Radhauser nudged Kareem closer to the bed. “Mama. I saw my baby sister.”

Daria opened her eyes, took both her son’s hands. There was a smile in her gaze. “Kareem jan. She is very beautiful, yes?”

He grinned. “She looked at me.”

“She is Nadima Jasmine Azami. Do you like her name?”

Kareem smiled. “I will call her Yara because she is small and beautiful like the butterfly.”

Radhauser excused himself, went back to the nurses’ station and returned with a coloring book and crayons for Kareem. He settled the boy, still wearing the Stetson, at a small desk in the corner of Daria’s hospital room, then pulled a chair close to her bed and sat, his long, jean-clad legs angling out sideways into the room.

He complimented Daria on her beautiful daughter, updated her on Ahmed’s condition, then asked her to tell him exactly what happened between Officer Jenkins and Ahmed.

She did.

Radhauser kept his head down and took notes in an attempt to keep his anger in check. When she finished, he looked up at her. “It’s not my jurisdiction, but I promise you I’ll look into it. Ahmed didn’t deserve what happened. And I intend to get justice for him.”

“When you look like we do, you are hated here now.” Reality cast a dark shadow over the room. “We may make the news on the television, but we do not get justice.”

Radhauser hung his head for a moment, gathering his resolve. Perhaps he could help change that. Maybe he could make this one case turn out right.

Daria stared straight ahead, barely blinking. “We have no extra money. I am worried about our car. I am sure Ahmed left the keys inside. What if it was stolen? How will Ahmed go to work?”

“The police probably impounded the car. I’ll check with them and ask that it gets returned to your apartment tomorrow.”

“Doctor say Ahmed and I must spend night here. I do not know what to do about Kareem. Do you think is okay he stay here?” She nodded toward the extra bed.

"I suspect that would be against hospital policy. Is there someone I can call for you? Someone you trust who could keep him overnight?"

“Maybe the Islamic Center can help. I have no one close since Marsha…”

He knew he shouldn’t make the offer without first checking with Gracie, but he did it anyway. “I can take him home with me, if you want. I have a seven year old who is in his class at Mountain View Elementary. And I’ll be happy to swing by here and take you both back to your apartment whenever you’re discharged.”

Kareem must have been listening. He raced over to her bed. “May I go? Maybe I’ll get to ride a real horse.”

“I am sorry to be a bother,” she said. “I wish I had more friends, but—”

“It’s not a bother. My wife and I love kids.”

“You are very kind man.”

“I can go, Mama jan?”

Daria clasped her hands together and sighed. "Yes. You may go. But you must be good boy."

Kareem gathered up the coloring books and crayons. “Can I keep these?”

Radhauser nodded.

As he was leaving with Kareem through the emergency room doors, he spotted Barry Sinclair, one of the Grants Pass police officers Radhauser had worked with in the past. He stood with the other officers Radhauser had noticed when he entered the ER.

Barry hurried over. “What brings you to Grants Pass?” His gaze settled on Kareem.

“The Azamis are friends of mine,” he replied. “Mrs. Azami phoned me at home. She said they needed help. She went into premature labor after the shooting incident. The hospital is keeping her overnight, so I’m taking their son home with me.”

Sinclair glared at him. “Jenkins made a good shoot.”

An unpleasant sensation of heat spread through Radhauser’s body, accompanied by a cresting wave of doubt that insisted otherwise. “I’m not buying it. Mrs. Azami has her own story. And I plan to see that it gets told.”

“Damn it, Radhauser. We’re supposed to be a brotherhood that sticks together. Whose side are you on, anyway?”

Radhauser’s back muscles tightened. “The side of justice. Did Jenkins tell you why he pulled them over?”

“Routine. They looked the part. And you know as well as I do, we can’t be too careful these days.”

“What happened to their car?”

“It’s safe in our yard.”

“I’d like you to see to it that it gets back to the Azamis’ apartment by tomorrow night. And that the keys are returned to them.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

Kareem’s gaze shifted between Officers Sinclair and Jenkins several times before he looked up at Radhauser, his eyes big and terrified beneath the oversized cowboy hat.

Radhauser pointed to a kid-sized table stacked with books in the far corner of the waiting room. He bent and whispered in Kareem’s ear. “I’m going to walk you over there and you can wait for me until I finish talking with this policeman, okay?”

Kareen whispered back, his gaze darting over to Jenkins. “What if that bad policeman shoots you, too?”

“Don’t worry. I won’t let that happen.”

When Kareem was seated and Radhauser had assured him everything would be fine, he crossed the room and stood in front of Sinclair, his back to Kareem. “Go ahead and say what you need to. I doubt it will change my opinion of what happened tonight.”

“Look, Radhauser, you gotta know it’s a frightening world out there for cops these days. Jenkins is young and pretty shook up. He only had a split second to act. He told Azami not to move. He heard ticking inside that vehicle. What if there had been a bomb in the back seat of that car? What if Azami was reaching for it? More people than your friends would have been injured. Maybe killed.”

“Officer Jenkins will get a chance to tell his story.”

“I already heard his story and I believe every word of it. Jesus Christ, Radhauser, I’d have done the same thing under the circumstances. Jenkins told Mr. Azami to keep his hands on the roof of the car where he could see them. Azami disobeyed the order and reached into the back seat. Jenkins came to a logical conclusion. You know how those people are. You can’t trust any of them ragheads. They’re happy to die for Allah as long as they take a few of us with them.”

“Those people?”

Sinclair said nothing.

“Did you witness the event, Officer Sinclair?”

“No, but I believe my fellow officer. He’s a good cop. Never had a citation.”

Maybe he was a good cop. But he'd made a big mistake and was now covering his ass and recruiting friends to help him do it. For a moment, Radhauser said nothing.

“I’m sure Internal Affairs will conduct a thorough investigation,” he finally said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s late and I’m going to drive this little boy home and put him to bed.”

Leaving Officer Sinclair with a bewildered look stretched across his face, Radhauser hurried toward Kareem. He motioned for the boy to join him, then took his hand and together they walked out into the night.

* * *

Sunday morning, Radhauser’s cell phone buzzed before his alarm went off. He opened his eyes. The bedroom was still dark and the red numbers on the dresser clock read five-fifteen. Outside their window, the first pink and yellow ribbons of dawn etched the horizon. He grabbed the phone from the bedside table and stumbled down the hallway into the kitchen to answer. It was Captain Murphy.

“They’ve found another one.”

“Who’s found another what?” He was still half asleep.

“Some park maintenance man, wanting to get an early start on chalking the fields, found another hand in Thomas Flannigan Sports Park, near the snack bar. I sent Corbin to check it out. He phoned a few minutes ago. It’s human all right, but this time it looks like a man’s hand. He asked the maintenance guy to wait until you got there. Corbin assumed you’d want to interview him yourself.”

“He’s right. But damn.” Radhauser bit back the need to remind Murphy that he’d been uncertain about Parsons’ arrest. “Do you think it’s a copycat?”

“I don’t know. But I sure as hell hope we don’t have a serial killer on our hands.”

Or, thanks to you, I’ve arrested the wrong man again. “Have you called Heron?”

“He’s on his way.”

Radhauser hung up the phone, headed into the bathroom, brushed his teeth and splashed some water on his face. No time to shave and shower. He hurried into the laundry room where he dressed, pulled on his cowboy boots, then unlocked the cabinet and grabbed his gun, holster, shield, hat, and backpack. He put in a call to McBride, started to leave a note for Gracie, then decided he'd best tell her in person about Kareem—asleep in the trundle in Lizzie's bedroom.

He hurried into the bedroom and stood, watching her sleep, then ran his index finger down her cheek and kissed her forehead. “Good morning, beautiful. I have to go over to Thomas Flannigan Sports Park. They found another hand.”

She flipped on the bedside light, then sat upright in bed, eyes wide. “There was a murder on the Little League fields? I thought you had a man in custody.”

“At this point, it could be a copycat. We don’t know. I’ll have a pretty good idea after I see the hand.” They’d held back the detail about the drawing and hadn’t released it to the public and he hadn’t told Gracie about it either. If this hand was missing the line drawing, Radhauser would suspect a copycat.

She watched him as if waiting for him to say more. When he didn't, she added, "Okay then, you best be on your way."

“Before I leave, I have a little surprise for you.”

She smiled, showing off those amazing dimples. A sight that never failed to melt his heart. "Based on the sheepish look on your face, I somehow doubt it's that new breastplate I've been admiring for Mercedes.”

“No, but there is an adorable little seven-year-old boy asleep in the trundle in Lizzie’s room. I think you’ll like him a lot. He’s the same little boy who was terrorized on the school playground. And there is nothing he wants more in the world than to ride a horse.” He winked. “Think you can arrange that?”

“Maybe. But before I do, I’ll need a little more explanation.”

He told her about Kareem, the same little boy who’d been bullied in Lizzie’s class, about the police officer shooting his father and his mother going into premature labor. The birth of their daughter, Nadima Jasmine Azami. How Marsha Parsons, the first murder victim, had been Daria’s only friend and she had nowhere to leave her son.

Gracie shook her head. “My husband the Good Samaritan. Sounds like that little guy has been through a lot. But won’t he be scared, waking up in a strange place and finding you gone?”

“He knows Lizzie. So, she’ll be a familiar face. I’ll be back as soon as I can. There’s a good chance his mother will be released later today.” He told her the Grants Pass police had impounded the Azamis’ car and that he’d drive Daria home from the hospital.

She got a faraway look in her eyes, her whole face softening. “You’re a good man, Winston Radhauser. I predict a batch of blueberry pancakes and a riding lesson in that little boy’s immediate future.”

He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. "You're pretty amazing yourself. And I think you're about to have a lot more fun than I am. I wish I could be here to see Kareem's face when he rides a horse for the first time."

“I’ll take a photo. Go on. I can handle the home front. Your services are needed elsewhere.”

As dawn crept over the line of trees along the east side of their gravel drive, he ran toward his car. For some idiotic reason, he felt like weeping. At first, he didn’t know why, if it had something to do with the Azamis and what they’d been going through, but then it hit him. It was Gracie and the way she knew and understood him—the man she’d married. The man she’d committed herself to for life. And he never wanted to take that commitment for granted. He closed his eyes, said a silent prayer of gratitude, and a weight seemed to rise from his body.

Before Gracie came into his life, the deaths of Laura and Lucas had left him in a dark hole with sides far too high to climb out. But with her by his side, the light of hope had once again found him.