Chapter Twenty-Six
Trent hesitated when he answered the knock on his door to find Jack Morrison standing on the other side.
“Morrison?” The knowing smile in Jack’s eyes told Trent the man was there for a reason.
“Fairchild!” Jack glanced behind him and nodded outside the room. “Can I buy you a drink?”
It was noon. “Sure.” Trent retrieved his wallet and key, left his room, and followed Jack.
“How’s your stay?”
“Everything I expected, Mr. Morrison.”
Jack chuckled, tipped his Stetson farther back on his head. In the elevator, he waved a passkey over a sensor Trent didn’t see and instead of the elevator taking them to the bar on the ground floor, it ascended.
Saying nothing, Trent rocked on his heels and waited for his host to lead the way.
They reached the penthouse level and stepped past a private foyer and into the suite. The room had every amenity Trent expected, plush carpet, hardwood floors, and stone countertops in the open suite, which hosted a kitchen to one side. By Trent’s guess, the suite housed a minimum of two bedrooms, maybe three. Impressive.
“What’s your poison?” Jack asked as he made his way to the wet bar.
“It’s early. How about a beer?”
“Dark or light?”
“Dark.”
Jack passed him a beer and twisted a cap off one for himself, took a swig.
“What brings you to LA?” Trent cut the ice with his question.
“Monica.”
Trent drank from the dark longneck bottle, hardly tasting the hops and barley the company making it wished he’d taste. “Funny. That’s the same name that’s keeping me here.”
Jack tilted his beer back again, crossed to the plush couch, and sat.
Trent followed.
“Yesterday was brutal,” Jack stated as if he was there. “Larry gave me a blow-by-blow.”
“If you need help paying for those lawyers—”
Jack waved off his offer with a flick of his hand. “After yesterday I might have to insist that Larry take the check. Seems everyone has a soft spot for a nurse.”
“He’s a lawyer, he’ll take it.” Though Trent thought perhaps Jack could be right.
“My sister spent the night with Monica.”
Trent hung on Jack’s word.
When Trent didn’t say anything, Jack continued. “Then this morning my wife calls me, tells me to call your brothers.”
That got Trent’s attention.
“I couldn’t exactly tell my wife that men didn’t work that way. And she better not find out from you that I didn’t bother with a call to your relations.”
Trent held up a hand. “Man code is safe with me.”
Regardless of how women might operate, men simply did it differently. Women might go behind, around, over, and under others, but men went straight to the source.
Jack hesitated, acted as if he wasn’t going to continue.
“What did your wife… it’s Jessie, right?”
“Yeah.”
“What did Jessie ask you to find out from my brothers?”
Jack drank his beer a little quick for just after noon. He obviously wasn’t sure if he should say anything to Trent.
“Monica’s having nightmares.”
Trent gripped his bottle and lowered it to his lap. “What kind of nightmares?”
“The kind that make you scream, wake up, and chase away all the bad with a bright light.”
The half smile that had been on his face the entire time he’d been in Jack’s presence slid, as did Trent’s gaze. He drew in a shuddering breath.
“I don’t think Jessie wanted you to tell my brothers that.”
Jack set his empty bottle to the side, crossed one ankle over his knee. “The girls are smart. Wicked smart.”
Trent knew Monica was sharp already.
“Somewhere between scoops of ice cream and glasses of wine, my sister decided you ran from Florida because you were spooked.”
It was Trent’s turn to drink his beer.
Jack continued, staying within the man code of not making the other guy talk about his feelings. “Katie asked Jessie, who asked me, to find out the details about your parents’ unfortunate passing.”
Trent’s head started to pound and the desire for his beer to turn into something stronger nearly made him head to the bar.
“More importantly, the woman who died along with Beverly and Marcus.”
Hearing his parents’ names made him cringe. He swallowed half his beer in one drink.
After a few minutes of reflective silence, Trent said, “Your family must blow every surprise you ever try and pass by them.”
Jack laughed at that. “Katie’s the worst. Hires a stealth PI when she needs information.”
Trent flipped his gaze to Jack.
“Though she hasn’t gotten that far… yet,” Jack said.
Trent finished his beer. If the women in Monica’s life had somehow figured out his past, it was only a matter of time before they told Monica.
“Monica’s dad left when she was a kid,” Jack told him.
“She told me that.”
“It impacted both Jessie and Monica. It’s hard for them to trust and depend on anyone. Especially men. After Jamaica, I’m not sure Monica will trust anyone again.”
Trent wasn’t sure what to say to that. He hadn’t meant to blow Monica’s trust. They were barely getting to know each other and everything went to a dark, hungry hell.
“I like you, Trent. You seem like a good guy. But Monica… hell, she’s family. I love that girl and she needs someone who isn’t going to run off without an explanation. If you get my meaning.”
Loud and clear, cowboy.
“So, are you going to give me an address?”
Jack shook his head.
“No. That would be too easy.” This little “get to know the real you” session only went so far.
“Remember our earlier conversation?” Jack indicated his balls. “I’ve grown used to them. No. You can’t get Monica’s address from me.”
Dammit.
Jack readjusted his hat and said absentmindedly, “She did work at Pomona General. Hung out at Joe’s Bar around the corner after her shift once in a while. Had to work those nasty twelve-hour shifts. Hard to find a night without someone on staff hanging out after say… seven thirty at night. I’m sure nurses were real good about designating a driver.”
A half smile met Trent’s lips as he stood. He had hours to kill before seven thirty. “Have you had lunch?”
“I could eat.” Jack stood, tucked his hat farther on his head, and walked beside Trent as they left the suite.
Joe’s was one loose brick short of a dive. Yet, as Trent glanced around the room, the dive portion was restricted to the outdated décor, wood paneling, and crappy lighting. To be a true dive, Joe’s needed the scent of stale beer and a resident drunk hanging off the bar. On second look, it just needed the stale beer. The guy at the bar looked as if he’d been there since noon.
Finding the ER staff wasn’t difficult. Something about the uniform gave away hospital employees like nothing else. Instead of waltzing over to the table of scrubs and stethoscopes, Trent found a stool at the bar, flagged the bartender for a beer, and watched.
He twisted around to thank the bartender and found a hand on his shoulder.
“Trent?” Walt stood beside him, holding out his hand. “I thought that was you walking in.”
Standing, Trent shook Walt’s hand complete with a hearty pat on the back. “Monica said you guys hung out here once in a while.” Little white lie number one. Wasn’t it Monica who tutored him on telling white lies?
“Is she here?” Walt looked around the room.
“No, her sister is here from out of town. Thought I’d give them some alone time.”
“You’re staying with her?”
“Yeah.” That lie bordered on gray. Walt bought it.
“I thought you two might hook up.” He looked like he wanted to say more. “And I owe you a drink.”
“I’m not one to pass up free beer.” Trent pulled his beer to his lips and downed it.
Walt waved the bartender over. “Hey Roy, can you hit him again… on me? I’ll have my usual.”
Roy nodded.
“Let me introduce you to some of the staff, then let’s find a quiet table. I’d like to know your take on what the hell is happening with Monica.”
There were six ER employees at their table.
“Hey guys. This is Trent. He flew the helicopter in Jamaica.”
Walt started naming names, all of which Trent quickly forgot. A pretty brunette smiled. “You’re the guy that was in the cave with Monica.”
“Yeah,” he confirmed.
“We have some catching up to do,” Walt told his friends.
The staff murmured and watched him as he and Walt ducked to a quiet corner of the bar.
“Seem like a good group of people,” Trent said as they took their seats.
“They are.”
The bartender brought their drinks and disappeared.
Trent took a drink and then stared into the glass. “Damn, maybe I shouldn’t drink this.”
“Why?” Walt tested his cocktail.
“I’ve already had a couple and I’m driving.”
Walt waved him off. “I’m not far from Monica’s. I’ll give you a ride.”
Trent smiled, sucked the foam off his beer, and looked around for the large red button… the one that said that was easy when you pressed it.
“Half the staff is ready to quit,” Walt told him. “The union is awaiting the depositions to complete and if they like what they see, they’re going to rally a protest.”
“A strike?”
“No. But signs, banners… bad PR for the hospital.” Walt nibbled on the peanuts as he talked.
The thought of that kind of support put a smile on Trent’s face. “How many people do you think will participate?”
“Nearly all the ER staff, those who aren’t working that is, techs from radiology, lab, the trauma surgeons, and then there are the guys from fire.”
“Wow. Does Monica know about this?”
“I don’t think so. Like I said, the union is holding off until the preliminary legal crap is over. I’m not sure of their logic. Seems to me that the sooner we put this shit behind us the better. I’d really like to know why the hospital is pursuing this.”
“Monica’s boss doesn’t like her.”
“Pat’s not loved right now.”
“Was she ever?” Trent asked, remembering the name from Monica’s conversations in the cave.
“Managing independent-thinking nurses isn’t easy. Especially when you have management on one side pulling on you to cut costs, nurses on the other hand telling you they’re understaffed, and unions mandating what you can and can’t do. The average length of employment for an ER nurse manager is less than five years.”
“How long has Pat been there?”
“Nearly six.”
“Past due.”
Walt shrugged. “So how’s Monica doing?”
Trent could only replay their last encounter, but if he let Walt think he was lying about staying with her, Trent wouldn’t get his ride. So he bullshitted with educated guesses based on what he’d learned from Jack at lunch.
“The deposition knocked her back. But her lawyers are brutal. Jack put his top guys on her case. When they’re done, the hospital and anyone slandering her are going to run away with their tail between their legs.” His voice rose as he spoke.
“It’s so wrong. And the shit about working outside her license? What a bunch of crap. We try to protect our nurses with every contingency. Give standing orders for patient care. Not every scenario is thought of. Hell, there wasn’t enough of anything to carry out all our orders. Not quite enough medicine, not quite enough hands, not quite enough room to put the patients… the bodies.” Walt shuddered, took another drink. “Not quite enough of anything.”
Walt sat through another beer and nursed his one drink while they talked about Jamaica before turning their conversation to sports to avoid the memories.
The ride to Monica’s apartment complex wasn’t long. Once there, Trent thanked his driver and offered to drive the next time they went out. Walt drove off with a wave and Trent walked over to the mailboxes. Only last names were listed on the boxes. He was damn happy her last name wasn’t Gonzalez or he’d have been knocking on doors half the night.
He found her name and apartment number with a grin. Between here and Seattle, Trent had turned into quite the investigator.
If the airplane thing doesn’t work out, I have new skills to exploit.
It was just before nine at night and the apartment complex was relatively quiet. He heard music playing from one of the upstairs units and more than one TV cluttering up the quiet. But there weren’t any obvious parties going on or loud fights spilling into the street.
He found Monica’s apartment and sucked in a deep breath before knocking on the door.
He heard the volume on the TV from inside go down. Good, she’s home.
When he didn’t hear her walking toward the door, Trent knocked again and stood back so she could see his face through the peephole.
“Go away, Trent,” she said through the closed door.
Damn. It didn’t occur to him that he’d find her only to be sent away.