“What was the range on the remotes?”
“Not all that far — lab says he was probably less than a block away the whole time.”
They became aware of a small commotion and saw a doctor wearing scrubs walking toward Chief Hale and Miriam Bredloe. He escorted the two of them to another room. All conversation in the waiting area stopped. When they returned, it was clear that the captain’s wife had been crying. The chief’s expression was grim.
The Wheeze moaned loudly and Frank heard the chief snap, “Get that fool woman out of here,” to the aide. The aide complied, hustling her away so quickly, she didn’t seem to notice Frank’s presence as they went past him.
With Miriam, Hale was all solicitude, gently guiding her to a seat next to him, speaking to her in soothing tones. Frank was relieved to see her grow visibly calmer.
“She doesn’t have any friends or family with her?” he asked Pete.
“Her sister is driving down from Tulare, so it may be a few hours before she’s here. We asked about friends, but to be honest, I think she was still in a state of shock then. The chief has been good to her, and she knows we’re all here for her, too.”
Another half hour passed. Miriam Bredloe gradually began looking around the room. She saw Frank and beckoned him to come nearer. He approached as the chief watched him with apparent interest. Frank nodded a greeting to him. The two men seldom came in contact with each other.
“Thank you for coming here,” Miriam said. “Is Irene with you?”
“No, I’m sorry, she’s not,” he said uneasily. She’s mad as hell at me.
Miriam Bredloe turned to Hale and said, “Detective Harriman’s wife shares my love of old buildings. She’s written stories about the commission’s work for the Express and has done a great deal to help us save a number of Las Piernas’s treasures from the wrecking ball. We’ve become friends.”
“You don’t say,” the chief murmured, seeming to regard Frank a little more closely. Frank wondered if Chief Hale was among those who thought wrecking balls represented progress, or if he thought Irene must be the type of woman who kissed up to the boss’s wife — an idea that would have made Frank laugh out loud under any other circumstances.
“My husband was going to meet an informer in the Sheffield Club tonight,” Miriam said. “Louise — not that I think she’s very sensible in a crisis — but Louise seemed to think you’d know which one it was.”
“Me? I’m sorry, Miriam — I don’t. I wish I did.”
“Oh,” she said, clearly disappointed. “I guess Louise was mistaken.”
“Louise sometimes…” Glancing at the chief, Frank decided not to finish the sentence.
“You don’t have to explain,” Miriam said. “This isn’t the first wild idea she’s had.”
“Harriman,” the chief interrupted, still studying him. “You’re handling the Randolph cases, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” Frank said, surprised not only that Ellis Hale knew such a detail, but also that he didn’t refer to it as the “Lefebvre case.”
Hale frowned and glanced toward Carlson, but said nothing more.
“Your sister is on her way?” Frank asked Miriam.
“Yes, but I don’t think she’ll make it down here much before midnight.”
“Harriman,” the chief said, “perhaps you should call your wife and tell her that Miriam here could use another female — a sensible female — by her side tonight.”
“If Mrs. Bredloe would like that, sir — certainly.” He wondered if Irene would answer the phone if he called.
“Oh, yes,” Miriam said. “Thank you.”
“One other thing,” the chief said.
“Yes, sir?”
“Trent Randolph was a man I thought of with respect, and he was a friend of this department. When I think of what he might have been able to do as a commissioner had he lived…” His brows drew together, deepening his frown. “I was supposed to meet with him before he left for that trip to Catalina with his children. I was forced to reschedule — and Trent offered to cancel the trip so that we could meet that same day. You don’t know how many times I’ve wished I’d agreed to that offer. But I told him to enjoy his weekend with his kids and set up a meeting for that Monday. I never saw him again.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Not half as sorry as I am, that’s for damn sure. When Trent’s son was murdered…” He faltered and fell silent, suddenly looking tired. Several moments passed before he seemed to shake off his memories and the mood he had fallen into. The chief glanced at Carlson again, then said to Frank, “Your father was in law enforcement, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, sir. Bakersfield PD.”
“Then no one needs to explain to you the importance of resolving this matter quickly.”
“The matter of Lefebvre’s guilt or innocence?”
“Don’t mention that name to me!” the chief snapped.
Taken aback, Frank said nothing.
Miriam straightened in her chair. She stared at the chief in disbelief and said, “Ellis, I wouldn’t have expected that from you.”
The chief’s face flamed red. He seemed more embarrassed than angry, but Frank found himself wishing that Miriam had not come to his defense.
“Call your wife, Detective Harriman,” Hale said brusquely, then stared at him, as if daring him to react to this curt dismissal.
It rankled, but he wasn’t about to let Hale know that. Keeping his voice cool and even, he said, “Yes, sir,” and walked away.
He had to walk outside the building to get a signal for his cell phone. He called home and got the answering machine — not a good sign.
“Irene? It’s Frank. Are you there?” He waited, but she didn’t answer before the machine cut the call off. He had left a note for her, telling her where he was and asking her to listen to the messages Pete had left on the answering machine. He wondered if she had even seen the note — or bothered to read it. Maybe she had been too busy packing.
As he tried to decide what to do next, his cell phone rang. The caller ID display on the phone showed his home number. “Irene?” he answered.
“How’s Bredloe doing?”
“Not good. There may be brain damage, and he might not even—” The words seemed to sink in for the first time as he said them. He suddenly felt his throat tighten and couldn’t go on.
The silence stretched, then she said, “Do you need me to be there?”
“I know you hate hospitals, but Miriam’s here with nothing but — nothing but flaming assholes from the department around her.”
“That is an emergency. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
They didn’t talk about their argument, though he could tell she was still angry with him. But long after the others — including the chief — left, they stayed with Miriam. Frank was glad Irene was there to comfort her — and to help him keep his own hopes up.
Those hopes suffered a setback a little before ten o’clock, when he first saw Bredloe.
The captain had been moved into the intensive care unit. He had not regained consciousness. Frank tried to tell himself that he had seen crime victims survive more terrible injuries, but he had not known those individuals personally or seen them before they were hurt. He could not reconcile the Bredloe he knew, always a strong and healthy man, with the pale, stitched, and bandaged one lying so still on this hospital bed, attached by tubing and wiring to machines and medications.
The doctors seemed to think that their work to save the captain’s life had gone well and were optimistic about his chances for survival, even if they avoided predicting what impairments the head injuries would cause.
An orderly handed Miriam a large plastic bag, explaining that it contained the clothing her husband had been wearing when he was admitted. Frank watched as she peered into the bag, then reached to support her as she nearly fainted.