California Moon

3

Ben Richards was the newest addition to the Shreveport Police Department, and therefore drew the unlucky assignment of standing guard over the comatose John Doe at St. Christopher’s Charity Hospital.

“I suppose you want to get reassigned,” Jimmy Joe said, exhaling heavily as he spoke.

“No, sir. I’m quite satisfied.”

“Satisfied?” Jimmy Joe eyed him suspiciously.

“Absolutely. If this is where you need me, then this is where I’ll be,” Ben said firmly.

“Good. You let me know the minute that guy comes around. I’ve got some questions that need answering,” Jimmy Joe continued. “You’ve only been here a few days…”

“And everyone else is needed for more important work?” Ben offered.

“That’s right.” Jimmy Joe smiled. “Glad to see you understand.”

“Of course. No problem.” Ben clasped his hands behind his back.

Jimmy Joe grinned widely. “You catch on quick, son.” He assessed the tall, thirty-six-year-old man. “You’re kinda old for a rookie. Why’d it take you so long to get through the academy?”

“I didn’t know what I wanted out of life until two years ago. I just kinda bummed around, I guess you’d say.”

“I see. Just so you know, every case is top priority to this office.”

Ben held his palm in the air. “Don’t apologize, sir. I’m happy to take this responsibility. If there’s any information forthcoming from John Doe, rest assured I’ll be on top of it.”

“Fine.”

“Did we ID the body in the morgue?” Ben slipped the question in easily.

Jimmy Joe nodded. “Even though there was no ID on either one of them when we brought them in, we found his initials inscribed inside his watchband. Then we ran his fingerprints. He had a misdemeanor arrest when he was sixteen. Probably got busted on prom night. His name is Adam Rivers, of New Orleans. I just got the call his wife’s coming in. She’s probably downstairs right now. Let’s go.”

Ben followed Jimmy Joe.

Shannon wrapped a pilled black cardigan around her shoulders as she waited outside the hospital, where she was to meet Alice Rivers, then take her to the morgue.

The automatic glass doors opened. Chief Bremen, Ben Richards and Helen Mayer walked toward her.

“Mrs. Rivers isn’t here yet?” Helen asked.

“No,” Shannon answered, glancing quickly at Chief Bremen. She felt chills surge across her back. She wished she was anywhere but here. She looked away from the older man to Ben. “Who’s he?” she asked quietly.

“John Doe’s bodyguard,” Helen whispered.

Ben overheard Shannon’s question. “My name is Ben Richards,” he said, putting out his hand.

She looked at his hand and nodded while hugging herself against the cold. “A bodyguard? He’s unconscious. He can’t hurt anyone.”

Shannon looked away from Ben’s probing eyes. The wind whipped around the corner, stinging her eyes. It gave her an excuse to close them and pretend she was nowhere near these men. Cocking her head toward Helen, she whispered, “This case gets more bizarre by the minute. And why should Alice Rivers need me…a nurse?”

Helen gave her a sidelong glance, pointing to the squad car as it pulled up. “Wait and see.”

Gallantly, Ben opened the car door and extended his hand to the woman inside.

“My God. She’s pregnant.” Astonishment cut through Shannon’s voice.

“Overdue, actually,” Helen replied.

“What are these bastards trying to do? Send her into shock?” Shannon glared at Ben.

He ignored her and smiled at Alice.

Helen shrugged her shoulders. “I thought the same thing. They say it’s for security. I’ve alerted Maternity. Watch her closely, Shannon. She’s in your hands now.”

Shannon moved toward the squad car, intent on taking over from Ben.

Alice Rivers was child-size despite the pregnancy. Her face was pale as she shifted her weight grimly.

“I’m Shannon Riley. I’m here to help you.” Shannon said, casting Ben an icy glare and he backed away. Shannon shook Alice’s hand. “You’re trembling.”

“Wouldn’t you be?” Alice asked.

“Of course.”

“I’m Ben Richards, Mrs. Rivers. If there’s anything I can do, please let me know,” he said in a comforting tone of voice that surprised Shannon with its depth.

Alice nodded curtly to Ben and Jimmy Joe rather than touch their extended hands.

“You’ll be fine,” Shannon assured her.

Alice gave her a grateful look.

“Thank you for coming, Mrs. Rivers,” Jimmy Joe said. “I must warn you, Mrs. Rivers, this may not be your husband, but from the description you gave the New Orleans police—”

“You think it is,” she finished for him.

“Yes.”

Alice’s eyes went pleadingly to Shannon. “He didn’t tell me he was coming here. Adam doesn’t know anyone in Shreveport.”

“We think he knew the man in the hospital,” Ben said.

“What man?” she said, looking at the police officer once more.

“The man we found with your husband.”

“Who is he?”

“We were hoping you could tell us that,” Ben said.

Alice shook her head vehemently. “We don’t know anyone here.”

“I understand,” Ben replied calmly. “Perhaps we should get this over with.”

“Yes,” she answered, her eyes going back to Shannon.

Shannon put her arm protectively around Alice’s back.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Mrs. Rivers.” Shannon said.

“How can you say that? My husband is missing, for God’s sake. And the best I can do at this moment is pray it’s not him in there on a slab.”

Shannon saw the tears in the woman’s eyes and her heart went out to her. “Believe me, I do know what you’re going through,” she whispered. “It’s hell, but we’ll do it together. Just you and me. Okay?”

Their eyes met in that knowing glance women share when their hearts are open. Alice clutched Shannon’s sleeve. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

“Good girl.”

They went inside to ICU, where three men and one elderly woman were attached to high-tech monitoring equipment. Black screens with waving lines and tiny blinking lights indicated that the still bodies were alive.

Alice braced herself.

Shannon felt her own skin turn cold. “C’mon.”

Alice’s frantic eyes flitted from gurney to gurney. “This isn’t happening.”

Shannon’s arm tightened around Alice as if she were the one needing strength.

Alice lumbered awkwardly, her arms strapped over her abdomen clearly trying to hold herself together. Fear crept back into her eyes. “Adam isn’t here?”

“No,” Jimmy Joe said flatly. “We were hoping you could identify John Doe for us.”

Ben stood next to the last gurney in the area. “Do you know this man?”

Shannon watched Alice intently.

Alice stared at the mangled swollen face of the man who appeared more dead than alive. She gasped and turned ashen. “My God! Did they crush his face?” She put her hand over her mouth, holding back her nausea.

“They thought they killed him.”

“You mean, like they killed Adam?”

“Yes,” Jimmy Joe answered. “Unless this man killed your husband first. We simply don’t know.”

She gasped and clamped her hand over her mouth. “Did they torture them?”

“Alice…” Shannon’s voice was filled with concern.

“I’m okay.” She breathed in heavily, obviously anticipating the worst of all possible answers.

Jimmy Joe started to answer truthfully, but Ben interrupted. “No.”

The stark terror in Alice’s eyes faded. Shannon cast Ben a grateful look. He caught it and smiled back, then gave her a slight nod, letting her know he was there to help her make Alice feel at ease.

How chivalrous. He read the reports. He knows the truth, but he wants to protect her.

Shannon was surprised at the flood of relief that overcame her. She wasn’t used to relying on others for assistance of any kind. And certainly not a cop. She wondered why his aid suddenly meant something to her.

Shannon smiled back and Ben’s smile widened. She felt her heart flutter. It was a feeling she hadn’t experienced in so long, she instantly discounted it.

Jimmy Joe asked Alice, “Are you sure you’ve never seen him before?”

“I told you, we don’t know anyone in Shreveport. My husband and I have a fine circle of friends in New Orleans. My family has lived in New Orleans for two hundred years. We would never, ever associate with anyone so unseemly as this man. For any of this to have happened to Adam is beyond my comprehension. Frankly, it’s my belief Adam was kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped?” Shannon asked, surprised.

“Yes. That kind of thing is happening more and more these days. People of our class and wealth are more vulnerable than ever to danger. Always have been,” she said resolutely.

“I wasn’t aware of that,” Jimmy Joe said.

“I’m not surprised. You don’t honestly believe we involve the police every time one of us is threatened. We have the money to deal with these things.”

“Have you ever been kidnapped, Mrs. Rivers?” Ben asked curiously.

“No. But my sister was when I was ten. She was returned unharmed. My father has always believed in a great deal of security.”

“I see,” Ben said. “Did you receive a call demanding ransom for your husband, Mrs. Rivers?”

“No,” she replied sadly.

“Then why would you think he was kidnapped?” Shannon blurted out the question before she realized she’d spoken. After all, this wasn’t her investigation. She kept telling herself she could care less. She was assigned. She hadn’t volunteered. She wanted to be as far away from here as possible. Yet, something kept her rooted to the spot.

“There’s no other acceptable explanation,” Alice said. “My husband was a well-educated, honorable man. He wasn’t a criminal. Nor would he consort with such people. He was kidnapped and the kidnappers killed him before making the call to either myself or my parents.”

Jimmy Joe stuffed his fists in his pockets and rocked back on his heels as he considered her explanation.

Shannon dismissed her views. She suspected that Alice Rivers not only led a sheltered life, but that her husband had clearly lied to her. No telling what the police would dredge up.

Ben gestured toward the door. “I think it’s time we get the worst over with.”

The lights in the morgue were blinding as the coroner rolled the slab out of its file in the wall.

Shannon kept her arm clamped around Alice’s shoulder while the coroner unceremoniously flipped back the white sheet.

Alice’s eyes gaped at her husband’s bloodless body.

Shannon felt shock waves rivet through Alice’s body. She wished she could absorb the impact, lessen Alice’s pain, but she was powerless.

“Oh, God!” Alice screamed. “Oh my God! Adam!” She clamped her hands over her face. Bursting into tears, she turned into Shannon’s shoulder, looking more ghostly than the corpse.

“Your husband?” Jimmy Joe asked emotionlessly.

Shannon couldn’t help wondering what made him so impassive.

“Yes,” Alice groaned and clutched her abdomen. She folded in half.

“She’s gone into shock!” Shannon said, casting an imploring look at Ben. “Hit the call button! I need help!”

Ben rushed to the wall and slammed his palm on the red button. He barked orders into the intercom.

“Oh, God,” Alice cried. “This can’t be happening!” Terror struck her eyes.

“What’s going on?” Jimmy Joe asked, flustered.

Ben put his arms around the rotund, but frail woman. “She’s going into labor, Chief.”

“Shit!” Jimmy Joe said, standing aside as Shannon and Ben lowered Alice to the floor.

Alice’s water broke. “Don’t let this happen here! I want to go home!”

“You’ll be fine,” Shannon assured her.

“I don’t think…” Pain shot through her again. Her eyes darted to her dead husband. “I’m alone…”

Shannon squeezed her hand very hard. “No, Alice, you have this baby.”

“Yes, the baby…”

Shannon tried to lift her.

“Here.” Ben put his hands on Shannon’s shoulders, easing her aside. “I’ll do this.” He scooped Alice up into his strong arms. “Where to?”

Shannon gaped at him. She wasn’t used to heroes. “Fifth floor.”

Ben rushed toward the door with Alice in his arms and Shannon fast on his heels.

“Damn it!” Jimmy Joe grumbled. “Now there’s no chance she’ll ID our John Doe.”

4

Alice Rivers’s baby was born healthy. Within fourteen hours her sister from Gretna had driven to Shreveport to take her and the baby back to New Orleans.

Throughout her ordeal, Ben kept telling Shannon he was convinced Alice might have been able to identify John Doe had his features been more normal.

Jimmy Joe blew him off, saying, “Drop it, Ben. Alice Rivers doesn’t know him.” But Shannon couldn’t help thinking Ben was right.

Shannon doubled her shift time to watch over John Doe. Because of the police investigation and the myriad questions swirling around John like a whirlpool, she became fascinated with him. Every time she looked at him, she was amazed the man had survived the torture, much less the car crash. There was little about him that looked human.

But you are human, aren’t you, John?

More than that, she sensed he had an incredible inner strength. In the first thirty-eight hours of his confinement, she’d watched his condition improve from critical to stable status. His heartbeat regulated. His breathing became stronger. Even the swelling in his face had begun to subside today as she tended him.

“You want to live, don’t you, John?” She held his hand, counting his pulsebeats. His skin was warm—a good sign. His heart was strong, beating a Morse code that coursed through the nerve endings in the pads of her fingers.

“I want you to live, too. I want you to get well and strong. Maybe then you can tell the police who did this to you. I’ll help you, John.” Shannon was a firm believer in the power of the subconscious.

Today she’d brought in an old cassette tape player she’d bought at a clearance sale and played classical music and New Age meditation and healing tapes. She owned a collection of subliminal-healing tapes she brought to her favorite patients from time to time. The staff never said anything about her tapes, knowing that Helen Mayers had twice requested financial funding for just such equipment, only to be rejected by the hospital board.

Shannon depressed the start button on the player and turned the volume down low. “It’s a Chopin nocturne. I love this part, John,” she said, listening closely.

She glanced at him, wanting to believe she saw a tiny tic at the edge of his mouth. But it was only the morning-light shadows playing across his face.

“Keep listening. It will help you wake up.” She patted his hand and began marking down his vital signs on his chart.

Routine was easy for Shannon. She’d been through this process many times before, with herself as the healer. She realized she played a catalytic role in all her patients’ lives. She believed she was part of the reason John was alive and would, in time, become healthy again. He would awaken. He would heal. They would get to know each other without the machines as interpreters. He would tell her about himself and clear up these mysteries around him. The police would be satisfied. He would tell her where he was from and about his family. About his life. His wife and children, possibly. About how much he loved them and missed them. They would come for him and he would tell her he was eternally grateful to her for helping to save his life. They would bond in a special way that patients did with their nurses. Eventually, he would leave the hospital. He would say goodbye to her and go back to where he came from and she would never hear from him again. It was always like that in Shannon’s world.

The John Doe case was more than perplexing to Ben Richards. It bugged the hell out of him. After a week of standing guard at the hospital, Ben had learned little about the man. No one had come to visit him. No one asked about him. There were no calls, no flowers.

Even the police were dumbfounded, it seemed.

Ben stood stock-still in Chief Bremen’s office. “Sir, I have a feeling that Alice Rivers knows John Doe. Her ability to recognize him was impaired not only because of his physical condition but because she was stressed over her husband.”

“Don’t you think I know all that?”

“Sir, I was only recounting your thoughts on the matter.”

“Well, then, don’t you have any new thoughts to add, Richards?”

“Not at this time, sir.”

Jimmy Joe took out a cigar, considered it and put it back in his drawer. “Doc says those things will kill me.”

“Yeah, they tell me that about cigarettes.” Ben shrugged his shoulders. “But, what can I do? I’m hooked,” he said with a sheepish grin. “You ran John Doe’s fingerprints?” he asked, sliding the question easily into his conversation.

“Yes, but we found nothing. No criminal record. No military record.”

“And the rental car?”

“Issued to a Harvey Ackerman. But we tracked him down. He’s alive and well in Bossier.” Chief Bremen answered pointedly and with a terse nod for emphasis.

“John Doe stole Harvey’s credit card and driver’s license?”

“Apparently,” Jimmy Joe said dismissively. “Look, Ben, I handled all this myself. I don’t want any more screwups. Your job is to bird-dog John Doe. I’ll take care of the rest. You got that?”

Ben watched Jimmy Joe’s reactions to his questions like a scientist searching for microscopic clues. Something was wrong. Jimmy Joe was lying through his teeth about something. Ben just had to find out what that something was. “Got it.”

“I’m glad we got that straight. Helen Mayer called from the hospital and said they’re moving our guy out of ICU. Room 505. I told her I wanted as few people to know about his presence as possible.”

“Chief, the fact that he has a guard twenty-four hours a day will draw attention,” Ben said.

“I told you to look as inconspicuous as possible.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hopefully the guy will come around in another couple days. So far we’ve been able to keep the press at bay. We’ve still got a chance to unravel this thing.”

“I understand.”

“Dr. Scanlon will continue to be the attending physician and I understand Helen has assigned a permanent nurse.” He looked down at his pocket spiral notepad. “Shannon Riley. Wasn’t she his nurse when they brought him in?”

“Yes. She’s been with him every day,” Ben said. “She seems dependable, even taking double shifts.”

“She’s probably being paid double time and a half.”

A moment later, Ben told his boss that he was headed for the hospital. What he didn’t tell him was that he wasn’t going there immediately. He had some investigating of his own to do.

Ben’s conversation with Jimmy Joe bothered him. He was smarter than Jimmy Joe and knew how to read people. The man was lying and Ben had to figure out what he was lying about and why.

After speaking with Jimmy Joe at the station, Ben drove to the airport car rental where John Doe had falsely rented a car. He asked the supervisor to show him the records regarding that particular transaction.

“Mabel Yates, one of our clerks, dealt with that customer. The police were already here once about it. She knows she messed up.”

“Messed up?” Ben asked.

“Yeah, she didn’t check the signature against the customer’s credit-card signature on the back.”

“I see,” Ben said, nodding. “Did she remember the man at all? Give a description?”

The supervisor shook his head. “Most folks look the same to us, we see so many. But she did remember that he was short.”

“Short?” Ben was surprised. John Doe was at least six foot tall. But Adam Rivers is short.

“Yeah. Mabel is tall—five-ten. He was shorter than she is. She says she always notices people’s height.”

Ben reasoned that Adam Rivers had undoubtedly rented the car under an assumed name, then left it somewhere for John Doe to pick up at a later time. But why? Was Adam Rivers protecting John Doe? Was Adam the gofer, doing odd jobs for John Doe the mastermind? Or was Rivers protecting himself? Or both?

After leaving the car rental place, Ben went to a pay phone. Picking up the phone book, he quickly turned to the Bossier City section. There were three Ackermans in Bossier City, but there was no Harvey nor even an initial “H.” He called all three numbers and each call confirmed there had never been a Harvey Ackerman in Bossier City.

Why would Jimmy Joe lie about this? Ben wondered. Or is someone in the department lying to Jimmy Joe?

Ben had thought he’d find answers to his questions.

He’d thought wrong.

John Doe had been assigned to private room 505, located at the end of the hall, surrounded by unoccupied semiprivate rooms. Chief Bremen and the hospital administration had agreed that until more was known regarding the criminal status of John Doe, the safety of patients and staff was of primary concern. No one was allowed admittance to that end of the hall except Ben Richards, Dr. Scanlon, Shannon Riley and Chief Bremen.

“I can understand having Ben around when John was in ICU. But now that we know it may be weeks, months, before John comes out of the coma, is it necessary to have cops on duty all the time?” Shannon asked Helen.

“Chief Bremen thinks so,” Helen said. “He doesn’t want a gang slaying up here any more than I do.”

“Slaying? They think John is in that much danger?”

“Yes.”

“My God.” Shannon swallowed hard, looking around the nurses’ lounge for escape. “I had no idea…”

“Don’t cop out on me, Shannon. I need you on this case. You’re damn good.”

“Besides, no one else will take it?” Shannon offered.

“Something like that.”

“Well, I’ve never worked with an armed guard at the door. All this past week, it’s given me the willies.”

“He’s supposed to make you feel safe.”

“Well, he doesn’t,” Shannon replied tersely. “Maybe I just don’t like cops.”

Helen nodded. “I’ve noticed that about you.”

“What?” Shannon asked, clearly shocked.

“You shake like a leaf when Ben is around. Chief Bremen, too.”

“I do not,” she answered with more confidence than she felt. “It’s the case that has me rattled. You have to admit, this entire case is out of the ordinary.”

“It is.”

Shannon rolled her eyes. “How did I get myself into this?”

“You didn’t. I did,” Helen smiled.

“Remind me to thank you later,” Shannon replied. Making no further comment, she walked down the hall toward John’s room, closing the door behind her.

“Good day, John,” she said cheerily, opening the miniblinds. “Sunny. That’s good.”

She smiled at her patient. “You look better already without your ICU attachments.”

She looked at him closely. The cuts on his face were healing well after only a week in the hospital. There was a remarkable change almost overnight as the swelling had gone down due to Shannon’s trick of placing frozen peas inside the fingers of plastic gloves and laying them across his eyes and cheeks. The edges of his bruises had altered from black and blue to a muddy yellow. She passed her hand over his cheek. “I think Mozart has had a hand in this.” Shannon had continued to play him classical music each day. She leaned over him, putting her face close to his.

No response, not even the flutter of an eyelash.

“Looks like you could use a shave, my friend.”

She prepared water, towels, soap and a plastic disposable razor. After thoroughly washing his face, she smeared a small amount of shaving cream on his left cheek. “Nasty cut on the other side. Better not risk it.”