“No, I’m staying with Hunter. I won’t sleep a wink if he’s alone.”
“Then let me take Jennifer back to the house. I’ll hang out until you get back with Hunter.”
“Are you sure? That won’t be until tomorrow afternoon.”
“I want to help. I owe you.”
Overhearing the conversation, Jennifer rises from her chair and clutches Darcy’s arm.
“Then I’m staying too,” Jennifer says.
Darcy shakes her head.
“There’s no reason for both of us to be here. The doctor says Hunter will be okay. Let Bronson take you home. You can stay up late and watch a movie.”
Jennifer rolls her eyes, but she follows Bronson through the automatic doors.
It’s after midnight when Ames returns. Darcy isn’t happy to see him, and she wishes Bronson was here to act as a buffer.
Darcy stays in the room when Ames questions Hunter. It’s the first time Hunter acknowledges Aaron attacked her son. They followed him to the grocery store and jumped Hunter from behind, two of the boys holding his arms while Aaron and Sam Tatum punched and kicked him.
“This never would have happened if you and Officer Haines had taken the letter seriously,” Darcy says, her eyes fixed on Ames.
He continues to interview Hunter as if she hadn’t spoken.
“What precipitated the fight?”
“Don’t answer that,” Darcy says. “This was an attack, not a fight.”
“Hunter, why did Aaron Torres attack you?”
Hunter shrugs.
“He said I’m a druggie and that I killed those girls, and he doesn’t want me near his sister.”
Ames thumbs to an empty page in his notebook.
“What difference does it make why Aaron did it?” Darcy asks, hanging onto the chair so she doesn’t leap up and scream in the detective’s face. “There’s no excuse. Aaron Torres and his gang should be in jail, unless you think being different justifies classmates jumping you from behind.”
“I’m not justifying the attack, Ms. Gellar.”
Hearing the commotion, a male nurse hurries into the room and glances between Ames and Darcy.
“I heard shouting.”
“We’re about finished,” Darcy says, holding the detective’s stare.
“If you can’t keep your voices down, I’ll have to ask both of you to leave. Our patients need rest.”
“You know,” Darcy says, standing up to Ames. “I think it’s time you left. Arrest Torres, or we have nothing else to say to you.”
Ames looks from Darcy to Hunter.
“You’re an adult, Hunter. Your mother can’t stop you from talking to me.”
“Leave,” Hunter says, twisting onto his side and staring at the monitors.
Ames watches Hunter.
“You heard my son. Get the hell out.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
No amount of fortifications keep a castle safe from breach.
Though the hospital staff locks down the corridors at night, Darcy remains on edge. Security patrols the entrances, and the staff corrals visitors into the waiting rooms. Most visitors go home, but Darcy’s place is here. With Hunter. Even though she can’t see her son, knowing he sleeps at the end of the corridor lends her a measure of comfort.
The clock on the wall reads midnight as she thumbs through a magazine. She’s read dogeared copies of People and Time from cover to cover, and now she busies herself with Sports Illustrated. But the words have no meaning. Worry prevents her from focusing on the pages.
A woman in a flower-print dress snuggles inside her coat and sprawls on a chair, her bare legs jutting out like wooden oars. Technicians push squeaky-wheeled carts past the room every few minutes, and a heavy antiseptic smell clings to the walls and worms inside Darcy’s clothes.
Darcy’s head bobs when her phone rings. She fumbles the magazine and checks the caller ID. Eric Hensel.
The woman across the room stirs and mutters something in her sleep as Darcy grabs her bag and hurries from the room. When she reaches the end of the corridor, she answers.
“I just heard about Hunter,” Hensel says, his voice hesitant. “I’m so sorry, Darcy. What happened?”
She tells Hensel about the attack.
“What do the doctors say?”
“No broken bones, but there’s a lot of bruising. Hunter has a concussion, and the CT scan showed bleeding on his brain.”
“All right, then. My nephew whacked his head on the floor playing basketball last year and lost consciousness for a minute. The doctors found a brain bleed. The hospital kept him overnight for observation, but they cleared him the next morning and sent him home.”
“How long did the symptoms last?”
“As I recall he experienced headaches and light sensitivity for a month. My sister got him into a sports medicine and concussion clinic outside Richmond. I recommend you do the same. Hunter will need therapy, physical as well as psychological. Concussions are no laughing matter, but treated correctly, kids recover in a month or two.”
“Thank you, Eric. I’ll find a clinic as soon as we get out of here.”
A doctor speaks to a nurse at the far end of the hall. They eye Darcy before continuing their rounds.
“I spoke to Ames an hour ago. After the latest murder, the GCPD is bringing the FBI into the case.”
“It’s about time.”
“No guarantees who they’ll assign, but I’m pushing the director to send me to Genoa Cove. I wish I was there to help tonight. This corruption case took longer than expected.”
“Don’t be sorry. Your old partner is tougher than she looks.”
“This must be hell on your daughter. She’s probably worried sick, and she’s cooped in a hospital all night.”
“No, Bronson took Jennifer back to my house. He’s staying the night and keeping an eye on her.”
A pause.
“You there, Eric?”
“Darcy, I don’t want you to think I’m snooping around, but I looked into Bronson Severson. Did you know the GCPD forced him to retire?”
“Does this have anything to do with the police brutality accusations? I read about the fight. Two men outside a restaurant in Genoa Cove. Bronson told me the instigator resisted arrest and broke his arm trying to pull free.”
Hensel makes an unconvinced groan.
“Did he lie to me?”
“Ames mentioned Bronson,” Hensel says, digging out the notes he took. “He didn’t like Bronson hanging around your kids.”
“Ames is trying to railroad Hunter for these murders. Trust nothing he says.”
“I’m keeping an open mind, but Ames says it wasn’t a fight Bronson responded to. The guy’s name was Vic Deneris. According to the detective, Bronson earned money on the side working as hired muscle. He was in league with another goon cop in Smith Town. Name was Pinder.”
Pinder. The officer who responded to Amy Yang’s call in Smith Town.
“To make a long story short,” Hensel continues. “If somebody owed you money, or you wanted to leave a permanent mark on the dude bedding your wife, you called Bronson. The department tried to pin Bronson down for years, but he had a smart attorney.”
“Was his name Appleton?”
“Bingo. Bronson didn’t break up a scuffle. He made a premeditated attack on Deneris. The other supposed fighter was just a bystander. He tried to break it up and got pulled into the scuffle. It took two cops to pull Bronson off Deneris, and Ames claims Bronson broke the guy’s arm on purpose.”
Darcy sits against the wall and rubs her forehead.
“Are you sure the story is accurate?”
“It’s all hearsay. From what I understand, Bronson Severson wasn’t the most popular guy in the department. Could be bad blood between Bronson and the cops who blew the whistle, or maybe Bronson was a bad cop and the officers knew.”