Nickel City Crossfire, Gary Ross [ebook reader for pc and android txt] 📗

I said. “I’m not here to hurt you. Your parents hired me to find you.”

Chest heaving and wig askew, she glared at me and made small circles with the knife. “Come near me and I’ll cut you, you lying motherfucker!”

“Didn’t Fatimah tell you who—”

“She didn’t believe you either. Said you looked like a stone-cold killer.” She held the knife toward me, ready for an upward thrust under the rib cage—which meant she knew what she was doing. “Come any closer and you’ll bleed out before you hit the ground!”

“I don’t doubt it,” I said, lowering my hands. “You’re holding that knife like a real killer, but only because you’ve studied gross anatomy. You’re shaking too much to have killed before.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t put you down!”

“No, but I was Army CID and I’ve done homicide investigations. Wet work is a lot harder in real life than in the movies.” I heard footsteps drawing near behind me. Without looking over my shoulder, I reached back and held up a hand to stop whoever was there. I didn’t want Keisha to attack or charge into the stairwell in such a state she might fall and hurt herself, even if she didn’t land on her own knife. “My name is Gideon Rimes, with Driftglass Investigations. Your parents—”

“Keisha?”

The voice behind me belonged to Winslow Simpkins. I turned just enough to see who else was with him: Fatimah and both ICU nurses. The woman told the man, “Call security.”

“Yes, call security,” I said. “Get someone to guard Mrs. Simpkins round the clock, even after she’s out of the ICU. I believe bad people are coming for her, but the police don’t so they won’t post a guard. I can’t watch her all by myself.”

Neither nurse moved.

“Baby Girl,” Winslow continued, “we went to Mr. Rimes for help. He didn’t shoot your mama. It was a drive-by.”

“They wanted to flush you out, and they did.” I held out my hand. “Even now they may be watching the hospital. Let me help you. Please.”

Keisha’s eyes welled. “I’m sorry, Dad. So sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of it.” Tears began to slide down her cheeks and she made no effort to wipe them away—or lower the knife. But her left hand released the doorknob.

The older nurse moved closer and stood beside me. She made her voice as comforting as she could. “You look familiar. Have you ever been on staff here? I know I’ve seen you before.” She smiled. “Your mother must be so proud of you. She’s going to be just fine, but I need to get back to her and monitor her. You can come with me if you want to see for yourself.” She held out her hand. “But give me the knife first.”

Having ditched the flowers somewhere, Fatimah detached herself from the others, which now included a few more people in scrubs of varying colors. She went to Keisha, placed her fingers on her friend’s forearm, and eased her knife hand down. “He’s right, Kee. That little bulge under his sweater is a gun. Coulda shot us all and been long gone by now.”

The nurse took a step away from me and swallowed audibly. I heard someone behind me take a step back.

“Your father says Rimes is legit, fine,” Fatimah said. “But we been here too long. Just a peek to check on your folks. Remember? They’re okay. It’s not safe to stay longer.”

Keisha let Fatimah take the knife from her. “Dad, kiss Mom for me and tell her I love her. Both of you.” She wiped her eyes. “I can’t be near you right now, for your sake.”

“No, Keisha!” I could hear in his voice that Winslow was struggling not to cry. “Just come on home.” The scrape of a shoe suggested he’d taken a step forward.

Shaking her head slowly, Keisha held up a hand to stop him. “I’ll be home when this is over.” Her voice cracked. “I’ll explain all of it then. Promise.”

“Let me go downstairs with you,” I said. “Cover you till you get to your van.”

Fatimah looked at me and said nothing for a moment, perhaps wondering how I knew they had come in the van. Then she closed the knife and slid it into her back pocket. “We’re covered. Tonight.” Eyes never leaving us, she opened the door and nudged Keisha into the stairwell. “But I got your card, Mr. PI. We’ll call.” She stepped into the stairwell herself, her right shoulder holding the door. “Don’t try to follow us down. Stay here and look after Keisha’s folks. That’s all we want you to do right now.”

The door closed behind them, and they were gone.

Her nametag flipped around so I couldn’t see it, the older nurse let out a sigh as she looked at me and pushed up her red-framed glasses. “So you’re not the nephew and you carry a gun. Great. Anything else I should know?”

“I’m a retired army cop, licensed to carry.” I took a breath. “You’re a lot braver than most people.”

She snorted. “The ICU is not for the faint of heart.”

“Understood. But at least for tonight, it will also have a paladin.” I turned and put an arm around Winslow’s shaking shoulders. “Ma’am, I can’t stop Death from making his rounds, but I can keep his earthly disciples from padding the passenger list.”

24

At six-thirty the next morning, after Oscar had returned with fresh clothes for Winslow and taken my seat in the waiting room, I found myself waiting for an elevator beside MaryAnn Maclin, the ICU nurse who had tried to talk Keisha down. To my surprise, she had declined to call security the night before. Now, an unzipped, down-filled lavender coat revealing her name tag, she looked at me with a weariness I couldn’t help feeling mirrored my own.

“Long shift?” I asked. She’d been on duty when I got there over nine hours ago.

“Twelve hours and change,” she said. “Three days a week, staggered. I won’t be back here till the