Close Your Eyes: A Novel Part 27

A uniformed police officer stood in the doorway, standing guard over the woman's room. The cop was a young red-haired man who, to Kendra's relief, had spent five minutes checking their IDs and calling to confirm their ident.i.ties before letting them enter.

"They keep saying she's worse off than she looks," the officer said. "She may not make it."

Kendra stepped to the side of Lesley's bed and looked at the monitors. "They also say that people in comas can sometimes hear what the people around them are saying. Please remember that, Officer."

The cop s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably. "I didn't mean-Uh, sorry."

"We'll let you know if we need anything else," Lynch said, dismissingly.

The officer nodded and went out into the hall.

Kendra looked at the woman's face, searching for any sign of life, for any indication that Lesley Dunn was still in there, clawing to get out.

There was none. Just shallow breathing and terrifying stillness.

"She's been scrubbed clean, and her clothes were probably scissored off in the emergency room," Lynch said. "I don't know what you can tell by looking at her."

"That's not what this is about."

"Then why are we here?"

Kendra looked at Lesley for a moment longer. Did her eye just twitch? No, just wishful thinking. Kendra turned back toward Lynch. "It's about actually seeing her and remembering why we're doing this."

"I thought you were doing it all for Stedler."

"Maybe at first. But now ... I'm not naive enough to think that Jeff's likely to be alive. It's been days now, I get that. But if he's been killed, I know it's because he believed in what he was doing so much that he was willing to put his life on the line." Her voiced hardened. "And he did it because there is someone out there who will just keep killing if he isn't stopped. If that's not enough of a reason for me to keep pus.h.i.+ng, then I don't know what is."

Lynch said quietly, "I don't know either, Kendra."

She stepped toward the window and looked down at the dark parking lot. "Most people hate hospitals, but I never have. Do you?"

"Yes. I've watched too many people die in rooms like this."

"I haven't. Yet. I guess that's the difference."

"You're lucky. You also had a great gift given to you in a hospital. I imagine that would give you a different perspective."

"It wasn't that dramatic. Not like the old movies, with gauze bandages being peeled away to suddenly show me a new world. Once the procedure was done, it took about eight weeks for my corneas to regenerate. I was only in the hospital for a few hours."

"It's still a miracle."

"Absolutely. But even before that, hospitals have always been places of great hope for me. You're surrounded by people who are, by and large, extremely good at what they do. And they're doing everything in their power to help you."

"Hmm. Again, you and I have obviously have had some very different experiences."

She smiled. "There are incompetent idiots everywhere, but at least here, people aspire to a higher standard. I've actually spent a lot of time working in hospitals."

"I didn't realize they offered music therapy as a treatment option."

"They don't, really. But when doctors think I can do some good, they occasionally recommend me. It's come in handy for my research. My first study focused on the effectiveness of music therapy on hospitalized infants."

"Babies?" He half smiled. "And how did that work out for you?"

"Better than your skeptical tone implies. A music therapist isn't necessarily a music teacher. We try to get our patients to engage with the music on any level. If it's not working, we try different instruments, different rhythms, different dynamics, whatever it takes. Anyway, I showed that interaction with a music therapist significantly reduced stress behaviors in those hospitalized infants. And if you lower stress, you increase their chances of healing."

Lynch motioned toward the woman in the bed. "What about her? Could you help her?"

Kendra turned toward Lesley. "I don't think so. There's been a lot of debate about the use of music to stimulate coma arousal in patients, but I haven't been convinced by the studies on the topic. I believe you might have to have some in-depth knowledge of the patient to trigger it. In any case, I'm not inclined to use her as my guinea pig. She's getting the very best care already."

She took Lesley's hand in her hand.

Cold. Still.

Kendra leaned over and whispered. "Come back, Lesley. Don't believe anything you've heard, anything they've said. In the end, it's all up to you. You can do anything, be whatever you want. Remember that, okay?" She squeezed her hand, then gently released it. "When you're ready, we'll be here for you."

"YOU OKAY?" LYNCH LOOKED sidewise at her as he pulled out of the hospital parking lot. "I'm surprised you're so upset. She's a stranger to you."

"That doesn't make any difference. I hate those sc.u.mbags who prey on the innocent. That woman probably didn't even know who attacked her. Not if it was a professional job like the others. One minute you're going about your life, making plans and looking forward to the future. The next minute, you're in the hospital, and people are wondering if you're going to die. It's not fair and it's not right and it makes me feel helpless. I hate to feel helpless." She shook her head wearily. "I just hope she makes it."

"She's got a bunch of doctors trying to make sure she does," he said quietly. "For more than compa.s.sionate reasons. She's got a chance."

"Yeah, I know." She moved her shoulders, trying to shrug off the depression. What else had she expected? A miraculous recovery? If Lesley fought hard enough, then that chance might be enough.

She checked her watch.

"s.h.i.+t. It's seven fifteen."

"And that means?"

"I was supposed to meet Olivia at my place at seven. We're going to have drinks and go out to dinner. How long will it take to get me home in this buggy?"

He flinched. "Buggy? That's sacrilege."

"How long?"

"Twenty minutes." He stepped on the accelerator. "Or less."

"Make it less. I hate people who are late for appointments." She reached for her phone and dialed Olivia. "I'm late. G.o.d, I'm sorry. I'll be there right away." She looked at Lynch. "Fifteen minutes."

"You should be sorry," Olivia said with mock sternness. "It's just lucky that I was smart enough to realize that this might happen. You don't have to hurry. I never made the reservations at Alfredo's. I'm cooking dinner for us at your place. We'll have more time to talk. I'm browning the hamburger and onions for the spaghetti sauce right now ... Lord, I love that smell."

"So do I. And your sauce is incredible."

"You bet your a.s.s," Olivia said cheerfully. "And by the time you get here, it will be simmering, and we can have that drink. Hurry." She hung up.

Lynch gazed at her inquiringly. "I take it that you've been forgiven?"

She nodded. "Since it suited her convenience. Otherwise, she would have given me h.e.l.l. Olivia's not shy about making her displeasure known."

"Then you must be very good friends."

"The best. We grew up blind together, and our friends.h.i.+p survived my getting my sight. If she'd been less giving, less loving, I'd have lost her." She smiled. "Not everyone has that generous a spirit. Until recently, she never even told me how much it chafed her that I'd left her behind." She added soberly, "But I'd never really leave her behind. I'm just waiting for her to catch up."

"Is there a chance?"

"There's always a chance. My mother is in touch with all kinds of teaching hospitals around the world. They're trying out new operations all the time. Olivia will have her turn."

"You seem very certain."

"I am certain. There has to be a way. I won't let her be cheated."

Lynch smiled. "Well, in the meantime, I'll keep you as much as I can out of her bad books. I'll have you there in another seven minutes."

"How precise. But I'm not in quite so much of a hurry now. She's in the middle of cooking our dinner at my condo."

He went still. "Your condo? How did she get in?"

"She has a key. I gave keys to both Olivia and my mother when I bought the condo. It was more convenient."

"I can see that it would be."

There was a cautious note in his voice that caused her eyes to narrow on his face. It was without expression, but that only made her more uneasy. "What's wrong?"

"Probably nothing. We'll be there soon."

She stiffened as his meaning hit home to her. "No! She was cooking. There was no one in that apartment but her. Okay, she's blind, but her other senses are supersharp. She would have known."

"I'm not saying that anything is wrong." His voice was soothing. "I don't know. You've noticed how suspicious I am. I just didn't like the sound of her being in your condo alone."

And neither did Kendra. It was scaring her to death. Her hand was shaking as she dialed Olivia back.

No answer.

Voice mail.

She felt as if she'd been hit in the stomach.

"Oh, G.o.d," she whispered.

She dialed again.

"Answer me, Olivia." It was almost a prayer.

Four rings.

Voice mail.

"Get me there," Kendra said between her teeth. "Fast, Lynch. Please. Fast."

"Two minutes," Lynch said. "It could still-"

"Be quiet. Don't talk to me." She didn't want to hear comforting rea.s.surance, not when she had this terrible fear icing through her. "Just get me there."

A CROWD OF HER NEIGHBORS were in the courtyard in front of her condo when Lynch drove into the parking area.

The door of her condo was wide open and she could see the security guard, Les Berber, who was usually at the front gate, standing there in the doorway talking on his telephone.

Talking to whom?

She jumped out of the car before it came to a full stop and ran toward the front door.

"You shouldn't go in there, Dr. Michaels." Berber, the security guard, tried to step in front of her. "It's Miss Olivia. Such a pity. Who would want to do that to such a nice lady?"

"Do what?" She pushed him aside. "Dammit, what happened to her?"

"I'll find out." Lynch held the security guard back. "Go to her, Kendra. I'll be with you in a minute."

Kendra ran into the condo.

Mrs. Jimenez from the condo next door was standing in the kitchen doorway. She turned to Kendra with relief. "I'm glad you're here. We've called the ambulance, but we didn't want to leave her like this. I was the only neighbor with first-aid experience, but I don't want to touch her. I'm afraid I'll hurt her more than help."

"She's not dead?" Kendra ran across the room. "I was afraid that she-" She inhaled sharply as she looked down at Olivia. "Dear G.o.d."

Olivia's beautiful face was a ma.s.s of cuts and bruises and was swelling rapidly. She was unconscious, and her breathing was shallow.

Mrs. Jiminez nodded. "She's been badly beaten ... I don't know if that blood coming out of her mouth is from a cut or if she has internal injuries."

"I can't tell either until she's X-rayed." Kendra did a superficial examination. No cuts or open wounds except on the face and head, but she was lying crumpled in a weird position. There were dark imprints on the left side of her blouse. "I think she was kicked. The son of a b.i.t.c.h knocked her down, then kicked her in the ribs and back. She shouldn't be moved. There's no telling what kind of damage he's done to her." She wanted to cradle Olivia in her arms, and she couldn't even touch her, Kendra realized in agony. "Did they say how long it would be until they could get some help for her?"

"I checked. The EMTs should be here in another five minutes." Lynch was suddenly kneeling beside her. "d.a.m.n, he really worked her over."

"She'll be lucky if she-" She stopped and gently stroked Olivia's hair back from that poor battered face. "No, she's going to live. Do you hear me, Olivia? We're going to get through this together." She looked at Lynch. "I was afraid that he'd killed her."

"A few more minutes, and he probably would have beaten her to death."

"Why? Did he mistake her for me?"

"Maybe. Or maybe he just surprised her and she made him angry." He looked around the kitchen. There was spaghetti sauce all over the kitchen. Floor, stove, walls. "Where's the frying pan?"

"Outside in front." Mrs. Jiminez said. "That's how we knew something was wrong. The frying pan came flying through the window, breaking the gla.s.s. My husband and I had just driven up, and he said that we should see if everything was all right with you. It's not as if you're the kind of woman who would be throwing-Anyway, Marco was getting out of the car when your front door flew open, and a man ran out. He darted around the house and disappeared."

"Would you recognize him if we can show you a photo? Maybe the security cameras got a shot of him."

She shook her head. "It was too dark, and we only got a quick glimpse. I'm sorry, Kendra." She looked toward the door. "I hear a siren. I'll go out and meet them."