Page 130 of I'm Watching You

Dr Moore led Ayden to a corner cubicle curtained off from the rest of the floor. She pushed back the curtain. The boy in the bed was deathly pale and shirtless. IVs stuck in each arm. Sensors were pasted to his bare chest. Blood dripped from a bag into his arm.

‘Mr Langford,’ Dr Moore said.

The boy laid open-mouthed, his eyes shut.

Ayden shifted. ‘What does his mom call him?’

Dr Moore checked her chart. ‘Jeff.’

Ayden leaned close to the bed, careful not to disrupt the wires. ‘Jeff.’

The boy’s eyelids fluttered.

‘Jeff,’ Ayden said louder.

A monitor indicated that the boy’s heart rate rose from sixty beats a minute to seventy. He was waking up.

‘Jeff, I’m a cop. I’m trying to figure out who shot you. Can you tell me anything about the person who did this to you?’

Jeff moistened his dry lips. In a bare whisper, he said, ‘Never saw him before.’

‘What did he look like?’

‘Gray hair.’ He ran his tongue over his dry lips again.

Ayden laid his hand gently on Jeff’s. It felt cold. ‘Can you tell me anything else, Jeff?’

‘He limped, like he’d been hurt.’ The boy shut his eyes.

Dr Moore glanced at the monitors. The boy’s heart rate was dropping again. ‘He’s not going to be able to give you much more. Not until tomorrow.’

‘Where’s Mark?’ the boy whispered.

Ayden squeezed the boy’s hand. ‘Don’t worry about him now.’

Jeff’s eyes fluttered closed.

Frustration dogged Ayden. This boy was the key to catching the psycho. ‘I have just one more question.’

The doctor looked annoyed. ‘You can ask all the questions you want but the boy isn’t going to talk. He’sheavily sedated and his mind isn’t going to clear for at least twenty-four hours.’

Ayden handed his card to the doctor. ‘Call me when he can talk again. I don’t care if it’s day or night.’

She tucked the card in her white coat pocket. ‘I’ll do that.’

He was grateful to leave the room and the hospital with its antiseptic smells and dull green colors. It was time to turn his attention to what he did best – catching killers.

Kendall Shaw had filed an updated news report on the Guardian just barely in time for the news at noon. It was a good piece. No, it was agreatpiece. Her best.

She’d known when she’d stuck the microphone in Lindsay’s face that she was going to get a hell of a quote. Lindsay was a powder keg. And it hadn’t taken much to set her off and get her talking.

And then Kendall had looked directly into the camera and challenged the Guardian. She’d called him a coward who hid behind Lindsay O’Neil.

If this wasn’t going to bethetape that got her noticed she’d be shocked. Success was so close she could almost taste it.

Kendall’s heels clicked on pavement as she crossed Channel 10’s small city parking lot to the side street where she’d parked her car. The sun was low in the sky and the day’s heat waning. She was headed to her hairdresser to treat herself to a wash and blow-dry. There hadn’t been much time to doll up before the noon news report, but when she rebroadcast at six she wanted to look her best.

Kendall reached her red sports car and clicked the lock open with the keyless remote.

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