“Your boy’s still in surgery. His ma’s up in a private waiting room that Ms. Frost arranged.”
I wanted to demand he tell me everything he knew about what had happened to Vanessa, but he was already suspicious. I didn’t need to heap fuel on the fire. “Is she okay? You said it was a carjacking?”
Hennessy studied me as he replied, “She’s a little scraped and a lot shaken up. Pretty much what you’d expect from someone who was carjacked and witnessed a shooting. Although, I have to say, she’s holding it together well. Don’t even think she needed stitches.”
The thought of someone threatening her… Fuck. My hands balled into white-knuckled fists. When he didn’t elaborate further, I tried to make my question sound casually concerned. “Why would she have needed stitches?”
“Cut her knee on some broken glass when she ran from the shooter. Said she dove when he popped off a couple rounds at her. They just butterflied it and called it good.”
A haze of red filled my vision. All pretense of casual died a bloody and violent death. “He fucking shot at her?” My roar filled the waiting room, and all heads swiveled in our direction.
The nurse managing triage stood, but Hennessy waved her off.
“What the fuck are you doing standing here? You’re the cop. Why the hell aren’t you out there,” I flung my arm out in the direction of the exit, “tracking the motherfucker down?”
Hennessy crossed both arms over his chest. “Was waiting for you, asshole. Besides, I was keeping an eye on Ms. Frost. Figured I’d offer her a ride home when she was ready to leave.”
Fucking white knight complex. Did every cop have one? Doesn’t matter.
“Where’s this private waiting room?”
Hennessy nodded toward the elevator bay about fifteen feet away. “Eighth floor.”
Before I registered moving, I was jabbing a finger at the call button and the doors opened. Hennessy followed me inside and pressed ‘8.’
“If you’d told me Vanessa Frost was the blonde you’d carried out of your club last night, I wouldn’t have believed you.”
My head jerked up, and I stared at him. “I didn’t say jack shit, man. So don’t go making things up.”
“Whatever you say, Con. But we both know the truth. I’m a fucking detective. This ain’t my first rodeo.”
The elevator came to a halt. As the doors slid open, I stomped out, swinging my head from side to side, seeing nothing but long, white-walled hallways.
“Which way?”
“Left.”
Hennessy shoved past me and led the way to a door about fifteen yards from the elevator. Pushing it open, I found Vanessa and Ms. Vincent inside. They were seated side by side, hands joined, heads bowed. I caught “pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.”
The Hail Mary was never a good sign. Nor were the blue scrubs Vanessa was wearing. What the fuck happened to her clothes?
They opened their mouths to start reciting it again, and I realized they must be saying the rosary that Ms. Vincent had dangling from her right hand. The prayer trailed off as they caught sight of Hennessy and me.
Ms. Vincent stood first, releasing Vanessa’s hand and hurrying toward me. I caught her wiry body, wrapping my arms around her.
She instantly burst into sobs. “My boy. My baby boy.”
“Shhh,” I tried to soothe her, but my attempt had no effect. Her sobs grew louder until her whole body was shaking and spasming. “Shhh. You’ve got to be strong for Trey. He’s a tough kid. He’s going to pull through.”
I knew nothing about his condition, but I had to believe it or I might break down into sobs just as pitiful as hers.
Vanessa stood and crossed the room. She laid a comforting hand on Ms. Vincent’s shoulder.
I met her eyes. The normally vivid blue was dull and lifeless. Haunted. She looked hollowed out.
Neither Vanessa’s nor my comfort could temper Ms. Vincent’s hysterics. A nurse bustled down the hallway and drew her out of my arms. “Let’s get you something to help you calm down, ma’am.”
She led Ms. Vincent away, leaving me, Vanessa, and Hennessy alone in the small, plush waiting room.
The pale yellow walls were set off by white trim, and it boasted two cream leather sofas, a cream leather recliner, and a cherry coffee table. A flat screen TV was mounted in the corner, and coffee service was set up on a matching cherry sideboard.
Something about the fancy waiting room made Vanessa seem even more vulnerable dressed in those thin, blue hospital scrubs.
“Get the fuck out, Hennessy,” I barked.
Vanessa’s eyes flashed, as though coming back from the wasteland she’d temporarily retreated to. Her expression said, Shut up, Con. But I was beyond caring what Hennessy knew or didn’t know. Besides, the smart fuck was already convinced that he knew everything. So what did it matter? He didn’t have any reason to share what he knew with anyone, and I’d make certain he didn’t develop a reason any time soon.
“I’m not going far,” he replied.