He said, "Don't shoot him, Molly, you might hit me. I've got him around the neck. See? I've got him. He's not going anywhere. It's all over for him. Please don't shoot."
She blinked, the blank rage receding. Dickerson heaved, shoving his elbow into Ramsey's stomach. The vicious surging water suddenly backlashed, shoving against them, giving Dickerson more power rather than slowing the force of his arm. Ramsey's hold loosened and Dickerson jerked free. He grabbed for the gun in Molly's hand.
There was a shot, wild, nearly straight up. Molly was heaving and struggling, but he was still on her.
Ramsey kicked forward with his remaining strength to help her. God, he'd been a bloody fool to save the man's life. He was a fool and he was also losing. He heard Emma screaming his name.
Then there were two men in the water, and all of them were grabbing for that gun. When the gun went off another time, no one knew who had it, who had fired it.
All any of them knew was that there was an unconscious man on his face in the water, red streaked water flowing from beneath his body.
Ramsey said to the two men, "It's about time you two showed up. I'd just about given up on you."
LIEUTENANT McPherson, of the MPD, a man whose face had come into focus just a couple of minutes before, said quietly, "Don't worry about anything, Judge Hunt. You're in Monterey. You're in a hospital room. The doctor and nurse just left before you woke up. You're going to make it, no problem.
The only reason I'm here right now is I thought you'd want to know about Dickerson. He's still in surgery.
The docs don't know if he'll make it. The bullet got him right in the chest. It's just too soon to know."
"I just wish they'd let the bastard die," Ramsey said. He couldn't move his right shoulder or his right arm.
He looked down at a white sling. He remembered now how they'd wheeled him up to the operating room, side by side with Dickerson, Molly and Emma beside him, both of them white-faced and silent. He remembered Emma's small fingers lightly stroking his forearm. As for Molly, she'd held on to his hand for dear life. He vaguely remembered waking up in the recovery room. They'd just wheeled him into a private room, and he was alone with the lieutenant.
"Yes," Lieutenant McPherson was saying, "I hope he expires. It'd sure save the taxpayers a lot of money.
Well, at least you're going to be all right, Judge Hunt."
"Do you know what they did to me?"
'The surgeon spoke to you in the recovery room. You don't remember?"
"No, just this voice that wouldn't shut up. Do you know anything?"
"Yes. They worked on you for a good two hours. When the surgeon came out, he said you were lucky.
The bullet went through your pec, and all you've got there is skin, muscle, and fat. He said you'd hurt like hell because the bullet also broke your collarbone and grazed a rib, but there wasn't any bad damage, it would just take a while to heal. You should be ready to take out more crooks in your courtroom in three or four months. Oh yeah, the doc also said he was real pleased that the bullet hadn't hit anything important, said he didn't want any complications with a big-time federal judge. He gave a big belly laugh then."
Ramsey couldn't think of anything to say. His brain seemed to be going in and out on him. At least he felt blessedly numb, all of him. He just wished Dickerson was dead. Surely it wasn't asking too much after what the bastard had done. If he lived, if they brought him up on kidnapping and attempted murder, he could still get out. Emma still wouldn't be safe.
He was losing it. Yes, she would be safe. By the time Dickerson ever got out of prison, Emma would be an adult. She'd be safe from predators like Dickerson just because she'd keep accumulating birthdays.
"Judge Hunt? Can you hear me? Do you want me to get a doctor for you?"
Ramsey hadn't realized that his head had fallen back against the very comfortable pillows. He opened his eyes to see Lieutenant McPherson looking very worried. He knew he'd been speaking, he'd felt the cadence of his voice, the underlying kindness, the concern, but he hadn't understood most of what he'd said. Ramsey managed to say, "I'm okay. I didn't think hospitals had comfortable pillows."
"These aren't the hospital's pillows," McPherson said. "These are from Mrs. Hunt, who's right now changing clothes along with your daughter. Actually they're from Mrs. Rallis, who went out and bought you pillows and your wife and daughter new clothes. She didn't like seeing them in hospital scrubs.
Evidently she saw the whole thing on the wharf. She's a big name here in Monterey. If she says that you should have soft pillows, no one's going to argue with her."
Ramsey wanted to ask about Molly and Emma, find out if they were okay, but somehow, he just couldn't get the words out. It was a weird feeling, this knowing words, feeling what those words meant to him, yet being unable to get them out of his mouth. He felt the man lightly pat his arm. "The doc gave you a shot of something really strong. He said you didn't seem like the sort to kick back and relax, so he said he'd lay you out, it would be the best thing. Did you hear me tell you about your daughter and Mrs. Hunt? They should be here soon. The last I heard, Mrs. Rallis insisted that your wife and Emma have coffee and hot chocolate. I tried to stop the doc from giving you that shot, but I couldn't. Can you talk, Judge Hunt?"
"No. I'm laid out," Ramsey said, but McPherson never said anything more, so he guessed he'd spoken to him only in his mind.
HE smiled at Molly and Emma coming into his hospital room. Emma was wearing a new outfit he'd never seen on her before. As for Molly, she looked like a fashion plate in a pale yellow silky-looking pants outfit and high-heeled shoes, of all things, on her feet. Her beautiful hair was combed back, fastened with a fat gold clip at her neck. They both looked incredible to him, just incredible. He wanted to shout to them that this time they'd won. He wanted to yell at Molly for jumping in the water like that. He also wanted to thank her for saving his bacon. He wanted to tell them that he loved them more than he'd loved any two people in his entire life. But his mouth wouldn't say anything. He wondered again where the words were that would say what he wanted to say.
He heard McPherson say, "No, he's all right, ma'am, I promise. He's been in and out. The doc wants him to rest and so he's resting. You and Emma sure look like a million dollars. How do you feel, Mrs. Hunt?
Would you like to give me a statement now?"
Then he heard Virginia Trolley's voice, telling McPherson to leave Molly alone, that she'd speak to him once she was convinced that Ramsey would be all right. Boy, she'd gotten down here fast. He knew she'd take care of everything. He also knew she'd take a strip off her two cops who were supposedly protecting them. He thought he remembered one of the young cops telling him that he'd had to take a leak and that's why they'd just been a couple of min-utes late helping him. What about his partner?
Ramsey had wanted to ask, but hadn't been able to.
He smiled now vaguely at Emma, who'd slipped away from her mama to come to him. "I'm okay, Em," he thought he said, but her face didn't change expression. He felt her soft mouth on his cheek. He heard her whisper against his ear, "We got him, Ramsey. Mrs. Rallis promised me he wasn't going to escape from her hospital." He wanted to laugh, but he didn't. He just slid away. The last thing he felt was the touch of Emma's fingers on the back of his left hand.
"HE'S going to live," Molly said. "They spent hours on him in the operating room, and now he's going to live."
Virginia Trolley said from his other side, with a deep sigh, "They knew who and what he was. I wish they'd just let him go. Now we'll have to try him, there'll be more garbage for you guys to go through."