Fate of the Fallen Page 9

  “Is there any way you could make an exception?” Cooper asked. “We’re part of a Bible study group at Hope Street Church, and we’d really like to offer him some encouragement. You can call the church and confirm that if you like.”

  “We do sometimes make an exception to the family-only rule in the case of a John Doe,” the woman explained. “In order to identify him, we allow anyone involved to see him, in the hope that someone can give us useful information. But that’s only if we need an ID.” She typed something into her keyboard. “What time did the ambulance bring him in?”

  “It was around midnight when we found him. I’m not sure what time he was brought here.”

  The woman typed some more. “Looks like you’re in luck. We still need an ID, and it looks like he was moved out of the ICU about an hour ago. He’s in room 307.” She stood and pointed to a row of elevators down the hall. “Take those up to the third floor. When you get out of the elevator, you’ll take an immediate right. Follow that hall until you reach the nurse’s station. Go past it to room 307.”

  “Third floor. Right. Double doors.” Trish nodded to herself as she recited each instruction. “Thank you very much.”

  They followed the directions to the third floor and room 307. The door was open, but Trish knocked anyway before they entered. As they slowly stepped into the room, Cooper wondered what they’d see. Would the man be awake? Asleep? And in what shape? She said a quick prayer for strength to comfort the man, and a moment later she was staring at him.

  He lay in a bed, an oxygen tube taped against his nose and an IV in his arm. On his right index finger was a white clip measuring his oxygen levels. Electrodes on his upper chest monitored his heart rate. His eyes were closed, his face peaceful.

  “So this is John Doe?” Trish asked quietly, staring at his face. “I’m glad he’s getting some rest. He looks so different.”

  Cooper cringed at the name John Doe. It was bad enough if the man didn’t have a home or a family, but surely he had a name. John Doe was so impersonal. So cold. “What do you say we call him something else?” she asked in a whisper. “I’m not a fan of John Doe.”

  Savannah nodded. “I understand. What about John? Plain, simple John.”

  “John is good,” Cooper replied. “And you’re right, Trish. He does look different.”

  Clothed in a clean hospital gown rather than layers of dirty rags, John had a proud look about him. His beard and hair were still unkempt, but his body was lean and his shoulders broad. “I wonder who he is.”

  “I wonder that, too,” came a loud voice from the doorway. Cooper turned to see a doctor standing there, clipboard and pen in hand, his coat bright white. “I take it you’re not family.”

  “We’re the ones who found him last night,” Trish said. “Aren’t you worried you’ll wake him?”

  “Not with the meds we’ve got him on.” The doctor looked at John’s chart. “So you called it in? Good thing you did. He’d have been dead by morning if you hadn’t taken the time to check on him.”

  The words struck Cooper with more force than she would have imagined, and she had to fight back tears. After what happened at the park, it was hard to think that John might have died, too. Fortunately, the doctor didn’t seem to notice as she wiped the moisture away from her eyes.

  “He’s pretty banged up,” the doctor continued. “Broken ribs, fractured collarbone. One punctured lung. Concussion. And he’s got a pretty bad cut on his arm. All things considered, he’s lucky he came out in such good shape.”

  Cooper felt her stomach turn. “This is good shape?”

  “Sure,” the doctor said. “His neck or back might have been broken. He might have needed to stay in the ICU for a long time. And of course the impact could have killed him instantly. Car versus man isn’t a very fair fight. And most people wouldn’t have bothered to call in an injured vagrant.”

  “That doesn’t say anything particularly flattering about humanity,” Trish quipped.

  “Neither does the fact that someone ran him down and fled the scene. The really sad part is that the cops may never find who did it.”

  Cooper felt a pang of sorrow. “Really? Never?”

  The doctor watched the monitor screen beside John’s bed. “That’s not my area of expertise, but I’ve seen enough of these poor guys to know. Unless someone saw it happen, the guy who did it will get away, scot-free.”

  Trish reached out and grabbed hold of John’s hand. It was an instinctive gesture—the action of a mother—and when she did it, Cooper noticed the words “Semper Fidelis” tattooed on John’s forearm.

  “How long will he be here?” Cooper asked.

  “A few more days, at least.” He motioned to a plastic bag on the chair by the hospital bed. “If you’re here to help ID him, those are his personal effects. No license. No wallet. There’s a name sewn into one of his jackets, but we’re pretty sure it’s not his.”

  “Why are you so sure?” Cooper asked, picking up the bag. “It could be his.”

  “I believe the name is Beatrice. The coat probably came from a shelter.”

  Cooper turned the bag over in her hands. A glint of metal caught her eye. “Is that a ball chain?”

  She held out the bag, and Trish nodded. “Looks like it.”

  Cooper pointed to John’s arm. “Isn’t that the kind of chain used with dog tags? Take a look at his tattoo. He’s a veteran. He could have been wearing tags when he was hit.”

  The doctor shook his head. “If it’s not in that bag, he didn’t have it.”

  Trish looked down at John’s tattoo. “I don’t remember seeing any dog tags in the parking lot, but I wasn’t really looking for them.”

  “Me neither,” Cooper answered. “I think we were all more focused on him than the ground.”

  The doctor made a note in the chart. “If you learn anything, let us know.” His tone of voice signaled that the conversation had ended, and he went about checking John’s vitals and his machines. Cooper, Trish and Savannah slipped silently into the hallway.

  The whole situation was so foreign to Cooper. If there was one thing she didn’t understand, it was being alone in the world. If she were in the hospital, Nathan would be by her side the whole time. She’d have Mama, Daddy, Grammy, her sister, and her brother-in-law smothering her with care, and while they filled her room, the entire Bible study group would be waiting their turn. The church would make sure her family had meals and help during her recovery. Her coworkers would send flowers. Angela would sit by her bed, sharing the latest gossip. A few loyal Make It Work! clients would probably send cards. Cooper had all the love she could hope for. The prospect of being alone, of having no one, was horrifying.

  “I’m glad we came,” she finally said.

  Trish gave her a side hug. “Me, too. I think I’ll drive over to the restaurant later today. Maybe there were dog tags on the ground.”

  “Be sure to check the restaurant’s lost and found,” Savannah suggested. “Someone might have picked them up.” She followed this with a troubled sigh. “I realize we’re a fallen people. I know we’re sinful. But I still don’t understand how you could hit someone with your car and just drive away.”

  “Whoever it was didn’t think they’d be caught,” Trish said. “A homeless man, alone . . .”

  Cooper shook her head. “Maybe he was alone, but he isn’t anymore.”

  Savannah smiled. “He’ll get so much company this week he won’t know what to do with himself.”

  6

  Repairs were on schedule. The leasing department was on top of orders. The supply closet was well stocked. The coffeemaker was doing its job. And everything was running perfectly smoothly.

  If this was being a boss, Cooper thought, she could really get used to it, although a part of her wondered when the other shoe would drop. Surely there would be some catastrophe while Mr. Farmer was away. It couldn’t possibly be this easy.

  She was busy filing a few leasing orders in a folder for Mr
. Farmer to look at upon his return, when a knock at the door interrupted her. Bobby Weller, one of her repairmen, stood in the doorway. “I’ve got the signed repair order from Richmond Bank.”

  He stepped inside and handed the paperwork to Cooper. Then he turned away and coughed loudly into his elbow.

  “You feeling all right?” Cooper asked.

  He nodded. “Just a little tired.”

  As Bobby left, Cooper’s phone rang. “Make It Work! This is Cooper Lee.”

  The person on the other end of the line didn’t even bother introducing himself. He just launched into a tirade. “I just can’t believe the guy you have as your receptionist! He’s the rudest person . . . I can’t believe how rude he is! How can you stay in business with that kind of customer service? Or should I say lack of customer service?”

  Ah, yes. The sound of the other shoe dropping. For the next twenty minutes, she listened to the client, not learning the caller’s identity until about halfway through. It was the office manager from Sanders, Peters & Dean, a law firm downtown and an important client. When he finally calmed down enough to allow Cooper to speak, she was able to talk him down with the promise of a discount on his next repair call and an apology from Emilio.

  Hopefully, Emilio would be willing.

  When she went to the front desk, she found Emilio leaning back in his desk chair, his head leaning back on his hands, his sprained ankle propped on Angela’s desk.

  “So, I just had an interesting phone call,” she began.

  “Was it that idiot from the lawyer office?” Emilio dropped his foot to the ground with a grimace and folded his hands on the desk. “I told him I’d put him on the repair schedule. I don’t know why he had his panties in a bunch.”

  Cooper sighed. Emilio had always had a little attitude and even more ego. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  “He called and said he needed a repair. I told him I’d put him on the schedule.” Emilio gritted his teeth as he recalled the details. “Then he says to me he doesn’t have time to be on a schedule. Says they have a big case and need to print briefs ASAP. I tell him he’s on the schedule for Wednesday, and he starts yelling.”

  “Then what did you do?”

  “I told him not to get his panties in a bunch and that we’d get out there and repair his dumb printer whenever we felt like doing it!”

  Cooper closed her eyes, trying to maintain her calm. “Please tell me you didn’t actually say that to him.”

  “More or less.”

  “Emilio, you can’t talk to a client that way! Call him back and apologize.”

  “Ha! I wouldn’t call him back if—”

  “If you can’t do this job, then we need to get someone out here who can. When you sit at that desk, you’re the face of the company. You’re the first person people see when they walk in for a meeting and the first voice they hear on the phone. And if you don’t apologize to that man, we’ll lose the law firm as a client. They’ll tell all their business contacts about it. We’ll lose some of them as clients. You’ll get in trouble. I’ll get in trouble, because I’m in charge right now. Ben will probably get in trouble, because you’re actually his employee. Do I really need to go on?”

  Emilio’s face fell and he glanced up at her with a sheepish look. “I get it. All right. I’ll call him.”

  “And in the future, if you have a problem, forward the call to me. If you have the urge to mention a client’s panties getting in a bunch, forward the call to me. If you want to yell or cuss at a client, forward the call to me. Got it?”

  Emilio nodded, took a deep breath and picked up the phone. Cooper returned to her office, eavesdropping as Emilio made his reluctant apology.

  Catastrophe averted. The dropped shoe hadn’t been all that terrible after all.

  • • •

  Late in the afternoon, Cooper got a call on her cell from Officer Ghent. A few loose ends in the paperwork required her attention, so as soon as she clocked out at Make It Work!, she headed over to the police station.

  She went straight to the front desk. “I’m here to see Officer Ghent.”

  “Name?” the officer asked.

  “Cooper. Cooper Lee.”

  “Oh, right.” The officer thumbed through a stack of papers on his desk and finally handed several to Cooper. “These are for you to look over and sign.”

  It took Cooper about a minute and a half to do as the officer had said. A trip across town for less than two minutes of loose ends. At least now it was done, and it was left to Officer Ghent to do the difficult legwork.

  She handed the papers back to the officer at the front desk and turned to the door. Before she could leave, she heard her name.

  “Ms. Lee?”

  She turned to see Inspector McNamara. His eyes were red and heavy as he stopped and spoke to another detective. He held a disposable coffee cup in his slightly shaking hand.

  Cooper slowly made her way toward him, waiting until the other detective left before she spoke up. “Inspector McNamara, are you all right?”

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Lee,” he replied. He took a drink of coffee. “What brings you here?”

  “My car was broken into over the weekend. I had to sign a few papers.”

  “Is Ghent on your case?” Cooper nodded, and McNamara rolled his eyes. “He’s a good cop, but he leaves something to be desired when it comes to paperwork.”

  “It wasn’t too bad. But you look like you’ve had a rough day.”

  He took another drink. “I haven’t slept much.”

  “Why?”

  His grim gaze met hers. “That business in the park. Say, I was planning to come by your house this week to get your statement. If you have a few minutes . . .”

  “I’d be glad to go ahead and do that now.”

  “You’d save me a trip,” he said with a grateful smile. “Come with me.”

  She followed him to his office, and when he’d settled into his comfortable leather chair and she did the same in one of the padded guest chairs opposite, he opened his notepad.

  “I want to know everything you can remember from that day at the park.”

  “Everything?”

  He nodded and took a drink of his coffee. “From the time you arrived until the time you left.”

  Cooper leaned forward, rested her elbows on her knees, and began. She told McNamara about the weather, the people, the food, and the flowers. She recounted meeting Sinclair and his group on the trail, chatting with Mandy and Christine at the food trucks, and finding Christine in the woods.

  At that point, McNamara held up his hand to stop her. “That part has me curious.”

  “Which part?”

  “You found her alone in the woods.”

  Cooper stiffened. “She didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I’m not saying she did.”

  “Then why are you curious?”

  “I’m a detective. It’s my job to be curious. It’s your job to answer my questions. Did she say why she was alone?”

  Cooper folded her hands together, trying not to wring them. She tried to maintain her cool. “She said the group decided to split up, and they all looked in different parts of the park. Sinclair was missing, so they searched the quickest way they could think of.”

  “By sending an unarmed woman into the woods alone?”

  “Why does that matter? It was a bluegrass festival. Christine didn’t need to be armed to go out on the hiking trail. And they didn’t send her. I’m pretty sure she told you the same thing. They each decided where they were going to look. No one made her go.” Cooper froze as McNamara’s brows rose. She wasn’t thinking. She shouldn’t have said that. “What I mean is . . .”

  “I know what you mean,” McNamara said. “She volunteered to be in the woods alone, where Sinclair happened to be found.” Before Cooper could respond, he continued. “So we’ve gone through most of the day. Where were you just before six?”

  Cooper’s response was quick. “I was with m
y friends, staking out seats before heading to the food trucks.”

  He smirked. “Funny. Most people have to think about that. Most don’t know exactly where they were at exactly what time.”

  “I remember because I looked at my watch to see how much time we had before the music started. When we were heading to the food trucks, it was about six.”

  McNamara flipped through his notes. “Did you stay with your friends when you were getting supper?”

  “I was with Nathan.”

  “Mr. Dexter mentioned that you talked to two friends there.”

  “We ran across Mandy and Christine.”

  “At six?”

  “It was a little after six. I don’t know the exact time.”

  McNamara flipped forward a page in his notepad. “Just a minute ago when you were telling me about the whole day, you said that you saw Mandy in line, and Christine came along shortly thereafter.”

  “So?”

  “Let’s walk through this. You and your friends go to get food. It’s about six o’clock. A few minutes later, you see Mandy Reed. You talk. Then Ms. Dexter shows up. According to another witness, she was running late. Do you see what I’m driving at?”

  Cooper shook her head. “I have no idea.”

  “The coroner has put Mr. Gordon’s death at five fifty-five.”

  “So?”

  “You have no idea where Ms. Dexter was at five fifty-five.”

  “I imagine she was on her way to the food trucks.”

  McNamara shrugged. “Maybe. But that other witness I mentioned said that Ms. Dexter arrived at the truck out of breath.”

  Cooper bristled. The other witness could only be Mandy, and Mandy was incriminating Christine. “Christine didn’t do anything wrong. She stopped to watch one of the performers—a juggler, I think. I’m sure someone in the crowd saw her and would recognize her. Besides, what happened to the theory that Sinclair killed himself?”

  “I’m checking into every possibility, Ms. Lee. But it looks like someone else might have been there with Mr. Gordon. It definitely looks like there was a struggle.” He paused, and his demeanor changed. His expression softened. When he spoke again, his tone was gentle. “All I’m saying, Ms. Lee, is that you should prepare yourself for a very harsh possibility.”