Page 47 of 3rd Tango
I push off the exam table, crinkling paper in my wake, and head for my briefcase. “I just want out of here, period.”
“You need to have your wounds checked,” Meg argues.
I snatch my phone and see I’ve missed a call from Al.Hmm. Mom must’ve texted him, but why isn’t he calling her instead of me? Maybe she isn’t answering either.
An older woman sticks her head in. “Miss Schock?”
I assume this is Dr. Marx and Yolanda is laughing her ass off at me somewhere down the corridor. I wave the woman in, but keep my phone. “That’s me.”
She and another woman step inside the makeshift room, flashing badges. “I’m Detective Young.” She’s Hispanic and short, like my nurse. “This is my partner, Detective Ansel.”
Ansel is taller, with silvery blond hair and lots of wrinkles.
I set the phone on my briefcase and shake their hands. Young takes out a blue notebook and flips it open. “What can you tell us about the shooting?”
I recite the facts. The memory of my smashed-up car flashes in front of me, Mom’s screams a distant echo. I swallow the white-hot anger pushing up into my throat. “Have you spoken to any witnesses?”
The two exchange a brief glance. Young flips to a blank page. “I understand you’re a private investigator. Can you think of anyone who might want to harm you?”
“Or your mother?” Ansel adds.
Someone who’d want to hurt Mom? Meg and I lock eyes, my gut turning somersaults. Gayle? Marie? Is it possible they figured out we broke into their house and they’re pissed?
People have been shot for less.
My phone rings again. It’s JJ. “Sorry.” I hold up a finger. “I need to take this.”
“Charlie.” Meg’s voice is chastising. “Can’t it wait?”
“How about hate mail?” Detective Ansel asks, as if she didn’t hear either of us.
I give her a questioning look.
“From you being in the spotlight,” Young explains. “You’ve been on the news a lot recently, haven’t you?”
Okay, Cagney and Lacey. My phone continues to ring. “Mad Dog, fill them in,” I tell him, turning my back on all of them and punching the answer button.
“Hey,” JJ says, and I unclench my jaw. “Are you out of the ER already?”
“Still here. Waiting for the doc.” Behind me, Matt starts listing the various cases on our docket. “Is my baby totaled?”
“You were shot and that’s your first question?”
“Actually, my first question was about Mom, but I’m told she’s okay.” I’m angry as hell, but if I start down that road with him or the detectives, I might explode. “I’m fine, my car is not.”
He knows she was a gift to myself the day I left the FBI and started Schock Investigations with Meg. I saved for years to buy her, and even though she’s nearing a hundred thousand miles, I wouldn’t trade her for anything.
The detectives are now quizzing Meg about the media publicity we’ve received over the last few cases.
“I could use some good news,” I say to JJ on a deep exhale. “Tell me she’s fixable.”
“She’s fixable,” he lies. “I’m on my way there. Do you need anything? I can stop by your place and pick up an overnight bag for you.”
“I’m not staying in the hospital. The bullet went straight through, so once the wound is cleaned and my cheek is stitched, I’m out of here.”
“Unless the doctor says otherwise.”
My anger overrides my good sense. “I’m fine. Honestly. I need to figure out who shot at us and hand their ass to them. Protect my mother until I do. Besides, I’ve had worse injuries.”
