In the reflection of the Cadillac’s side mirror I could see someone frantically attempting to do something and desperately hoped that he wasn’t about to reload. I got about halfway there when Dog overtook me, and I yelled at him to come.
The man in the Cadillac turned, roared the motor, sprayed grass and turf as he reached the curve, and was gone. I slowed to a stop and stood there in the middle of the road with the spent shells of the 9 mm scattered across the pavement. I made a few silent vows to myself as my jaw muscles clenched and stretched at the sutures.
Toy Diaz. Had to be.
I placed my hands on my knees and attempted to catch my breath as Dog came over and stuck his nose in my face. My sides were killing me as I made the slow walk back to the T-Bird. I was dizzy, and I was sweating, and it seemed very hot as I looked up at the big convertible, which was stretched across the road. Henry was in the back, and I picked up my pace. There was blood on the white leather of the cavernous seat, a lot of blood.
Henry had pulled her down and had cradled her head while applying pressure to the wound with his shirt. One of the slugs from the assault rifle had caught her in the side, just under the arm at the oblique muscles. It was hard to say where else the slug had gone. I leaned in and looked at her tarnished gold eyes, which were already glazing with shock. She raised a blood-coated hand and smiled. “Stop being weird.”
15
It was as bad as it looked and maybe a little worse. The 9-mm slug had taken a hard left where her love handle would have been if she’d had one, and a second had clipped her just above the collarbone and had taken a bit of the shoulder blade with it. My attempts at filling the available beds at the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania had not gone unnoticed, and Rissman had asked if I wanted all my people in one wing. I noted that it’d be convenient.
I called the Moretti family, although Vic had told me not to, and sat down in the hallway to await the onslaught. Chavez had taken our statements; he said that Asa Katz would be here momentarily but that Gowder was still being queried about the Shankar DuVall shooting.
“How’s that going?”
He shrugged and slipped the papers into his aluminum clipboard. “I’d put it down as a service to society, but you never know.”
Henry said he had a few loose ends to tie up and that he’d be back in a couple of hours. I apologized for getting dents and bullet holes in Lola, but he didn’t say anything. He took Dog, and I figured I was in deep trouble.
I went up to Cady’s to wait for Vic to get out of surgery and found Jo Fitzpatrick sitting in a chair by my daughter’s bed. Jo was incognito in jeans, a worn pair of rough-out boots, and a weathered Carhartt coat that looked familiar. They were deep in the throes of a one-sided conversation concerning the case of the Atlantic City company that had attempted to do a little under-the-table trading. Evidently the case had been transferred to Jo, and she was getting Cady up to speed, even if all my daughter could do was look at her while she talked and occasionally squeeze her hand. It was hard to breathe when I went into that room.
“What happened to you?”
I had a tendency to forget what I looked like as of late. “I thought I might blend in better if I had a few more bandages.” She looked at me doubtfully as I stepped to the other side of the bed and reached out to hold Cady’s other hand. “How is she?” Cady squeezed back, and I watched as her eyes slowly tracked from Jo to me. I sighed and listened to my breath rattle as she squeezed my hand again.
“She’s looking much better, don’t you think?”
“Yep.”
She waited a few moments before speaking again. “I had a little time this morning and thought I’d come over and help out.”
“Thank you.” I kept my eyes on Cady’s, but hers had closed. I gently slipped my hand away. “Jo, do you mind if I ask you a question?”
It was a slow response. “I guess not.”
“What would you say your firm’s position is toward Cady?”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
I swallowed. “I’m thinking of taking her back to Wyoming and, without the ability to consult with her in all this…”
She stepped a little forward and into my line of sight, and I could see from the general attitude of her body that she was more relaxed. “Cady is one of the best lawyers in the firm.” Her voice broke a little, and I could hear the wind outside the windows and in between her words. “David Calder, the senior partner, called me up to his office yesterday morning to make sure that we were doing everything we could for her.” When I glanced over, tears were on her face. “He said that no matter what it took, and no matter how long it took, we were to be committed to Cady’s recovery and her continued position in the firm.”
I nodded and looked back at my daughter. “Then I think we’re going to go back home.”
“To Wyoming?” She sounded a little relieved.
“As soon as she can.” I squeezed Cady’s hand again, but she was asleep. “I’ve got a few things to attend to and so does she.” I smiled and looked at the young lawyer on the other side of the bed. “Can I ask you another question?”
She smiled back and wiped her face. “Sure.”
I waited. “Who assigns the pro bono cases at the firm?”
She coughed and swallowed, wiped her eyes some more, and then cleared her throat, gesturing with her hand to explain the time it took to respond. “That would be me.”
I nodded. “You.”
“Yes.”
I nodded some more. “So, you assigned William White Eyes to Cady?”
She stayed steady. “Yes.”
“Jo…” I smiled again, just to let her know I wasn’t going to jump over the bed and handcuff her, and went and sat in one of the chairs beside the window. I thought that maybe if I sat down it would be easier for her. I picked up the book on the public art of Philadelphia. She didn’t move, and her back was to me. “The way I figure it, Osgood pressured Devon…”
“I told them to not let Cady find out about any of this stuff.”
I kept looking at the book. It was an old trick, but she didn’t fall for it and stayed as she was. “Well, it looks like you were right.” I waited, but she stayed silent. I flipped through the book to the section on northwest Fairmount Park. “Where’s Riley Elizabeth?”
At that, she turned and looked at me. “What?”
“I was wondering where your daughter is?” I studied the book as she crossed to the other chair, sat, and folded her hands in her lap.
“My mother is taking care of her.” She turned her head and looked out the window.
I took a deep breath and let out with a heavy exhale, attempting some comic relief but probably sounding more like a tire going flat. “William White Eyes wasn’t supposed to get out.”
“No.”
I looked at Cady. “Leave it to ‘The Greatest Legal Mind of Our Time’ to mess up the appeal.” I laughed, and Jo turned to look at me. Her hair hung back on her shoulder, providing a stark contrast to the cream-colored luster of her skin. I smiled at her. “You want to hear something funny?” She waited. “I partially believe you.” I thought about it. “It’s pretty obvious that when Billy Carlisle went native he became a problem, but when he met Cady, he took Devon and Vince Osgood into the liability column with him. I might be a problem for Diaz, but nothing on the level of Devon Conliffe, Vince Osgood and, worse yet, the now named William White Eyes.” I continued to look at Cady and interrogate Jo Fitzpatrick. “Did you know that Osgood was in business with Toy Diaz and Shankar DuVall?”
“No.”
I went back to the book and read about a statue near the Rex Avenue Bridge on Forbidden Drive, of all places. She didn’t say anything more. “What more do you know about William White Eyes?”
“Nothing.”
She had waited just a moment too long, so I gave her one more opportunity. “You’re sure?” I listened as the severity of all the things I had told her settled like a sedimentary layer of criminal activity, making us both feel unclean. Her lips trembled and her mouth opened, but it took a long time for no words to come out. I looked at the waning afternoon sun as she quietly picked up her things and left.