Chapter 32
May 14
I give a tentative tap on the door of the hospital room the next morning.
“Come in,” a low voice murmurs.
I look back at my dad. He frowns and nods me forward with his head. He still isn’t speaking to me. Way too angry. He sits down in the waiting room with my mother, who is shooting me major daggers. I am on my own with this one.
I won’t bore you with the gory details of what happened when they got to the station last night. Full-on wrath. Grounded until I’m eighty.
Bovano’s lying on the hospital bed, his arm in a sling. A hint of flesh reveals itself through an opening in his hospital gown. I shudder at the possible sight of white hairy skin. Did they have to shave him for surgery? That must have taken hours.
Mom insisted I bring flowers. I feel like a complete tool handing him a bouquet of carnations. I should have brought pizza. White and red flowers don’t seem to say “Gee, I’m sorry I got you shot.” Then again, neither does pizza. Hallmark should look into a greeting card for that one.
I stand there while he raises the bed to a sitting position. The longest twenty seconds of my life.
Time to apologize to this man yet again. I gulp back my nerves. He took a bullet for you. You owe him. “I’m so sorry, Detective Bovano. I didn’t mean to . . .”
My voice trails off. Didn’t mean to what? Lie? Steal? Go behind everyone’s back? Bovano still got shot in the end. Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it.
“Sit down, Eddie.” He gestures to the chair next to his bed, his face set in a soft expression. At least I think it’s a soft expression. Could be drug-induced.
Staring down at my sneakers, I slide into the seat. The low rumble of an infomercial on the television promises a magical machine that can make healthy shakes out of anything, including the living room rug. It’s hypnotic.
Bovano’s voice breaks my trance. “You understand now why I never wanted you on the case, don’t you? Too dangerous, too risky. When Alisha pulled the gun on you last night, I thought . . .” He shakes his head, his eyes haunted.
He clears his throat. “But I’m proud of you, kiddo. You did what I couldn’t. You solved the case and stuck to your guns, even when I fired you. I’m proud of you.”
We are back in the Twilight Zone from yesterday.
I want to tell him about Jonah, give credit where credit is due, but why remind him of all the rules I broke? This once, I keep my mouth shut.
“Of course,” Bovano continues in a sterner tone, “I’d also like to wring your neck, but I can’t. My arm’s in a sling.”
I let out a sound between a gasp and a giggle. I don’t think he’s kidding.
He studies me a moment. “I suppose you want to know what happened with the Picasso Gang? Who we caught . . . and who we didn’t?”
What? They weren’t all caught? My nod is shaky as it dawns on me that I may not be safe. Will they put me in a witness protection program? Cart me off to Nebraska? So much for doing all of this to stay at Senate Academy.
“We caught Alisha. And Galen Lee.”
Who? My eyebrows fold in confusion.
“The guy with the long beard,” he clarifies. “The Asian.”
Ah, Marco. Not sure I can get used to thinking of him as Galen.
“Lars and the others are still at large. I’m guessing we won’t hear from them for a while. Lars must be stunned that we figured out his elaborate game. Or that you did, I should say.”
Bovano starts to pick at the sheet on his bed. I grip the metal armrests of my chair, the reality of the situation flooding down on me like an ice-cold shower. What if Lars knows who I am? What if he comes after me? What if—?
“You’ll have to testify, Eddie. Against Alisha and Galen. You are a key eyewitness.”
My breathing hitches and my leg starts to twitch.
He smiles and pats my arm. “A closed testimony. You won’t be in the courtroom. They’ll never see you. They don’t know your real name, either. Alisha never had access to it. She’ll be locked away for a very long time. Not to worry. And she swore last night on a lie-detector test that the others knew nothing about you. She never thought you were a threat. So that’s a good thing.”
I settle down a little. Suddenly I have a great appreciation for Bovano’s rules. Having a code name was an über-good idea.
He scrutinizes me for a moment, a sour look growing on his features like the meds are wearing off and he’s just remembered how much I annoy him. “I suppose you should go. Thanks for the flowers.”
I nod and stand to leave. The safety (and anger) of my parents is right outside that door. I just want to be home; being grounded is fine by me.
“Eddie?” Bovano calls from his bed.
I turn. “Yeah?”
“I’ll make sure you get that check. For the full amount. You’ve earned it. You need the best education you can get. We need minds like yours on the force.”
I am stunned. “Thanks, Detective,” I whisper. Should I hug him?
No.
I think about shaking his hand, but he’s staring out the window. Just go, before he takes back his offer. I shift to leave again.
“Edmund,” he says. I freeze in the doorway.
He pauses, eyeballing me, but not in his usual I-could-eat-you-for-breakfast way.
“Thanks,” he says softly, picking up the remote control and focusing his attention once more on the television.