He looked frail, too thin for a man his age and size. Slowly she pulled back the sheet that draped him to the neck. She almost gasped aloud. She’d seen many knife fights in prison – serious wounds, fatal ones – but she’d never seen so many on one person who’d survived.
His arms, shoulders and hands were riddled with superficial cuts, but his torso showed multiple deep lacerations, some of which must’ve entered, and critically damaged, vital organs. Even his groin, hips and legs weren’t spared the stabbing and cutting. Whatever this attack was about, it was meant either to kill him outright, or to be a severe warning.
But what warning? And why? Roger’s incarceration at Folsom had been relatively quiet, few scuffles, no outright attacks. What had changed?
Frankie couldn’t help believing it was about her. But only two people knew she was related to Roger Milano – Walt Steiner and the attorney John Wright. She couldn’t think of anyone else. Did the warden or any prison administrator or correctional officer know she was related to a convicted murderer serving time in Folsom State Prison?
She replaced the sheet, and after pulling a hospital chair close to the bed, held her father’s hand. She stroked his face, ran her hand over his bruised knuckles. He’d fought back against his attackers. “Dad, can you hear me? It’s Frankie.”
She sat with him for fifteen minutes before he moved restlessly, groaned, and opened his eyes. He stared at her as if he couldn’t believe she was real. With a glance at the doorway, he saw the officer on guard, turned to look back at her, a wry smile on his face.
“I – I was afraid I wouldn’t see you again.” He lifted his good hand as if to touch her face, but dropped it back on the blanket. “You can’t be here,” he said, turning away from her. “It’s dangerous for you. For me.”
“I’m not leaving, Dad. Semper Fi, remember?”
He scowled, tried to put anger in his weak voice. “Look at me. See what they did? If they’d do this to me, what do you think they’d do to you? There are people who can’t know you and I are related.”
“I’m not worried about myself.” She examined his face critically with those cool gray eyes so much like her mother’s. Gently turned his jaw back and forth, probed the wound on his skull. Pulled down the sheet again and examined the deep wounds on his torso. “Did they hit anything vital?”
“Nothing that won’t mend.” Roger groaned and tried to sit up.
She eased him back by the shoulders. “Careful, Dad. You were seriously attacked and you need rest. That’s the best medicine.”
She stood up, kissed him on the forehead, and started to leave.
“No, don’t go yet.” He tugged at her fingers. “There are some things I have to tell you, why you’re not safe here. Why you have to get out of Pelican Bay, out of the state, maybe even the country.”
“What are you talking about? I know all about Anson Stark and his white supremacist gang, about their illegal activities.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” He clutched her hand harder and she was sure it cost him in pain when he winced. “It’s about more than the Professor’s gang activities and his control over the illegals.”
She glanced at the door. “Dad, they won’t let me stay much longer.”
“You’ve got to hear this, Frankie. It’s important. It’s related to your mother’s death.”
Stunned, she collapsed into the visitor chair. “Mom? What about her?”
Roger closed his eyes, looking drawn and exhausted. “Anson Stark – he – I – your mother and I – ”
“Anson Stark! What are you talking about? The man tried to have me killed, Dad.” She loosened his grip on her hand. “How could you and Mom possibly be mixed up with a vicious man like him? It doesn’t make sense.”
Roger’s voice grew hard. “I didn’t say he was a good man, Frankie. You’re right. He’s a vicious monster. Was one long before he murdered his wife and ended up in Pelican Bay.”
“Yet you joined his gang,” she accused, addressing the ink on his fingers.
He glanced down, colored. “I had to join a gang for safety and – and I wanted to find out what happened the night your mother died.”
Chapter 59
The ICU physician entered the room at that moment, stopped short when he saw Frankie. “He can’t have visitors,” he said abruptly.
“I’m a medical doctor and he’s my father.” She looked him steadily in the eye, willing him to make an exception for her.
The doctor didn’t answer, but checked Roger’s vitals, asked a few brief questions about how he felt, and made notes on his chart. When he finished, he turned to Frankie. “You can stay a few minutes longer, but he needs rest. As a physician, you should know that,” he chided as he left the room.
Frankie returned immediately to the topic. “Daddy, what you said makes no sense. How did you even know the Starks? He was a professor and you were – ”