Picture Me Dead

Dilessio wasn’t going to want to speak to her today. His victim had been identified. He would be busy, like a bloodhound out on a trail.

 

 

Still…she needed his help.

 

She realized she had no idea how to get hold of Jake when he was away from his desk, but at least she knew people who would.

 

“Hang on a minute,” she told David, rising.

 

She was getting truly paranoid, she realized with dismay. She was suddenly afraid that anyone around her might be listening in on her conversation. She walked to the corner, put through a call to the forensics department and asked to speak with Mandy Nightingale. She was put on hold for several moments, and then Mandy answered, so full of congratulations for the success of the sketch in the paper that Ashley couldn’t even manage to say hello. After that, though, she was able to give Ashley Jake’s cell phone number.

 

Jake’s phone rang several times before he answered, barking “Dilessio” as if he were impatient with the very fact that his phone had rung.

 

“Jake, it’s Ashley.”

 

“Ashley.” For a moment it seemed as if he didn’t recognize the name. Then he said quickly, “Yes, Ashley, what? I’m really busy.”

 

“I know, I know…I’ll talk quickly. I’m asking a lot, but…Stuart nearly died last night. Not because of his injuries,” she said quickly, “but because his respirator was unplugged. The hospital blames it on too many people going in and out, but I know—I know—we didn’t pull that plug out of the wall. I believe Stuart is in real danger. Is there any way, any way at all—I mean, if you use off-duty guys, I’ll pay them myself—you can get a couple of guys in there to watch his room? And to make sure any hospital personnel going in really are hospital personnel?”

 

There was silence for a minute. “Ashley, I’m in the middle of a murder investigation.”

 

“I know that, Jake. But I’m not a silly paranoid seeing spooks in the closet. I’m trying to prevent another murder. Jake, please! Remember how we talked about the fact that you can know things about people just because you know those particular people? Please, I don’t know where else to turn. Look, I know what you’re up against. I wouldn’t bother you if I weren’t desperate. Help me.”

 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

 

He hung up before she could say more. She stared at the phone, biting her lip, not at all sure what direction she should take now.

 

But even as she turned back toward the table where David was still sitting, she received a return call.

 

It wasn’t Jake, but Marty. He wanted the particulars, needed to hear the story again. She gave it to him as best she could, and he promised to set up three shifts of off-duty officers, and that he would talk to Carnegie and Nathan Fresia himself.

 

“Ashley, the off-duty guys will do it cheap for another cop—and because they might want recommendations from a couple of homicide guys sometime—but it’s still going to cost.”

 

“I know.” She hesitated. “Don’t worry. We’ll pay it.” He was silent on the other end for a minute, so she went on. “Listen, Marty, I’m sorry…I’m sorry to bother you with this.”

 

“That’s not it, Ashley. We take care of our own. I wish we could do it for nothing, there’s no way we can get anyone to approve the manpower when the physicians are convinced a careless visitor pulled the plug. So private is the way to go—if you’re certain the danger exists.”

 

“I understand, Marty. And I just have a feeling about this.”

 

She could hear him snort, though she was certain he didn’t realize she heard. She thanked him and hung up. The Fresias might not be millionaires, but they were comfortable, and once she explained the situation she was sure they would be willing to help pay for security. She had a small savings account, and once her paperwork went through, she would be making a decent salary, so she could help, too. It would work out.

 

She walked back to the table and sank into her chair, feeling oddly exhausted already.

 

“I’ve got off-duty cops doing guard duty,” she said.

 

David arched a brow, looking at her as if she had performed a miracle. Then he frowned. “Did you warn them about hospital personnel?”

 

“Yes.”

 

He leaned back, smiling. “Then I think we ought to take a ride south together. You want to drive, or you want me to? I’m in the mall garage across the street.”

 

“I’m at a meter—with the time probably about to run out. We’ll take my car.”