Suspense/Intrigue
Longboat Key
By Mary
Sep 8, 2007, 07:45

His partner of five years, Frank Burbeck followed his line of sight.  “Gees, you're right.” Riley got out of the vehicle and headed toward the uniformed officer who met them at the police tape with his best hard-ass glare. They flashed their badges and he relaxed.

“This way detectives..” He waited while they ducked beneath the yellow line.

“What happened to the streetlights?” Riley asked trying to get a sense of the area.

“Someone broke all of them. Didn't want any witnesses I guess.” The officer  told them.

“Let me guess – no one saw a thing..” Riley's partner huffed in typical Burbeck bad humor.

“You got it detective.“

“What do we know so far?” Riley took the lead.

“Not much. An anonymous call came in about an hour ago. Someone found the kid. We arrived shortly after. Followed by the ambulance.” The officer led them voer the steps of a brownstone.

“Wait. The ambulance? The citim's still alive?” The officer gave a slow nod. “Then what the hell is homicide doing here?”

“Because they don't expect the kid to make it to the hospital.”

Frand's disbelief was evident. “Gees. Officer that would have been a good piece of information to have before we got here.”

“Sorry, detective but I told dispatch.”

“It's okay.” Riley stepped between the officer and his partner before Burbeck could tick the young officer off. Frand Burbeck was the best there was in solving a murder but his people skills left a lot to be desired.

Frand stepped away to examine the place where they'd found the kid. Riley knew his partner of five years well enough to know how angry Frank was by the screw up.

“Do we know where they took the victim?”

“Yes, Manhattan General.” The officer told him while watching Frank bark off a string of questions to his partner.

“Manhattan General?” Why had the EMTs taken a critically injured gunshot victim blocks away for treatment when the obvious choice would have been almsot within walking distance?

“One of the guys on the bus recognized the kid. His sister's a doctor at Manhattan.”

“So we have a positive id on our victim then?”

“Yes. The kid's name is Jeremy Scott. We found the wallet still on the body. Nothing missing except maybe some cash assuming he had any.”

“Hey bubba,” Frank motioned to Riley.

“Looks like we have the murder weapon.” Frank held up a gun with one latexed finger. “Appears to be a 38.”

“Where'd you find it?”

“Right next to the body, sir.” The young female officer pointed to where the Scott kid had been found.

“Officer since the boy is still technically alive, let's try not calling him a body just yet, okay.” Riley corrected gently. She was still green but still the next detective might not be as understanding.

“I'm sorry, Detective Donavan.” The officer didn't look old enough to be on the force. But then in recent years, restrictions on new recruits had been eased a great deal to accommodate the growing need for new officers on the street.

“Anything else?” Riley knelt to examine the crime scene. Appeared to be at close range.

“Just that this doesn't appear to be a robbery. If you disregard the lack of money in the kid's pocket, he still had on an expensive watch.”

“I'm betting whoever called this in took the money but got interrupted before they could finish robbing the vic.” Frank surmised. “Want to head over to the hospital and see if we can find out anything from the sister?”

Riley got to his feet. “Yeah. Continue canvassing the area and call me when you have anything.” He told the senior officer

“That’ll be a waste of time,” Frank grumbled the second Riley put the car into drive.

At times the older detective‘s pessimistic attitude became hard to take. Frank Burbeck was one of the best detectives around but witnessing hundreds of homicides through his twenty years on the force had left their mark on his mentor.

“Probably. But it's worth a shot. Care to take a guess on what a kid like that might be doing in this part of time so late?”

Frank shook his head in disgust. “This city's going to downhill a hand basket because of drugs. And what's the mayor's answer? Put more rookie cops out on the streets like that skirt back there. She doesn't have a clue what she's doing..”

By the time they reached Manhattan General and found a parking place over an hour and half had passed since the call first came in. Riley doubted if they'd find the kid alive still. He dreaded having to face the family with questions about the kid's death. Even though he'd been through this same routine countless times, it never got easier.

The sliding glass doors of the ER opened automatically as they approached the entrance. Riley and Frank stopped in front of the nurses station and showed their badges to the duty nurse filling out a chart.

“We’re looking for Jeremy Scott. Gunshot victim. He was brought in earlier this evening.”

The woman's gaze flicked briefly over the badges. Satisfied they were who they said they were, she dropped the pen. “Just a second.” The nurse moved to the opposite side of the station and as far away from them as she could get before picking up the phone, ignoring the one that had been next to her.

She spoke to someone in a hushed whisper while periodically glancing back over her shoulder.

“Kid’s dead.” Frank muttered under his breath.

“God, I hope you’re wrong this time Frank.” Riley watched the nurse replace the receiver then head back their way.

“Our attending will be right with you, detectives.”

“What can you tell me on the kid’s status?” Riley didn't really expect her to give him an answer but her expression was enough to tell him it didn't look good.

“Dr. Colton will explain the details of the case.” The nurse didn't give Riley the chance to ask another question. She stepped to the far end of the station and began sorting charts.

“Detectives?” They turned together in time to see a man who appeared to be in his mid-forties approaching.

“I’m Elliot Colton.”

Riley took the doctor's offered hand. “Detective Donovan. My partner Detective Burbeck.” He introduced Frank who gave the doctor one of his brusque nods.

“You’re here about Jeremy Scott?”

“Yes. Can you tell us what his prognosis is?”

The doctor shook his head. “Not good, I’m afraid. Please come with me, detectives.” Riley and Frank exchanged a quick look then followed the doctor to the elevator.

“To tell you the truth, I’m surprised he’s still alive.” Colton added once  they reached the fifth floor. “I don’t expect him to make it through the night. The bullet did tremendous damage. I’m afraid there was nothing we could do for him.”

They stopped in front of one of the rooms. “We’ve paged his sister. She’s on duty tonight. I expect to hear from her any time.” Elliot Colton pushed open the door. Jeremy Scott lay unconscious and barely hanging onto life. A multitude of lines connected the kid to life support. “I’m hoping she won’t be too late.”

The kid didn't look to be eighteen. Most of the top of his head had been bandaged to cover the bullet wound.

“Let’s step outside.” Being in homicide for going on five years, Riley had seen his fair share of deaths. But watching this young kid waiting to die was harder than he'd imagined. It seemed like such a waste of life.

The doctor showed them to a small area set up across from the room.

“Can you tell me anything about Jeremy or his sister?” Riley asked while trying not to let the kid's tragedy get to him.

“I’ve known Jordan since she started here. She’s an excellent doctor and a good person.”

“What about the brother.” Riley didn't miss the way the doctor seemed to chose his words carefully.

“Nothing out of the ordinary that I can think of. Jordan practically raised Jeremy when their mom and dad died – I think he was ten maybe. She became his legal guardian. The only real mother Jeremy ever knew. He adored Jordan. And Jordan would do anything for him. She worked two to three jobs most of the time just to get through medical school and provide for her brother—“ The doctor's cell interrupted the conversation. “Excuse me.” He answered the phone and spoke only a fre brief words.

“That was the ER. Jordan’s downstairs. I’ll bring her up.” He told them solemnly.

“This is bad.” Frank muttered once the doctor was out of earshot. “I hate this stuff. Man I knew the second the phone rang five minutes before our shift was up that it was going to be bad. One of those feelings. We should’ve let Benson have this one, bubba.”

Riley picked up a magazine and flipped through its pages. He hadn't said as much and God only knew he hated to give credence to one of Frank's 'feelings', but something definitely told him for once Frank Burbeck might just be right.

                            ***

The steady vibration on Doctor Jordan Scott's cell phone interrupted the last of her nightly rounds. The text message read 9 -1 -1.

She recognized the extension immediately. The emergency room of Manhattan General. Dear God –  not one of her babies. There were three other missed pages. All from the ER.

Jordan didn't bother returning the page. If someone on the ER staff paged her, there would be little tim to spare for details. She took the steps two at a time. This wasn't her first trip down these stairs leading from the forth floor Pediatrics Unit that evening and if life were running true to form for a Saturday night it wouldn't be her last.

“Someone paged me?” She asked the first year resident on duty. He couldn't make eye contact. This was the same kid who been flirting with her just a few hours earlier. Now, his gaze bounced to the floor then back to Jordan's general direction before locking on something just beyond her left shoulder.

“Jordan.” Her attention jerked to Doctor Elliot Colton, the ER's attending.

“Elliot, I received a page from someone.” Sympathy pooled in Elliot's dark brown eyes. Something was wrong. She could see it even behind Elliot's thick rimless glasses.

“Jordan, come with me—“

“What is it, El?” Elliott had been both her friend and mentor since she'd started at Manhattan General five years earlier. She trusted him with her life.

“Jordan, please…” Elliot took her arm and slowly forced her toward the doctor's lounge.

Out of earshot from the rest of the staff.

The mere act coupled with the seriousness in Elliot's manner became frightening.

Jordan barely wiated until Elliott closed the door. “What is it? What’s happened, Elliott?” For the first time, Elliott's gaze slipped from hers. “God El – what is it?”

“It’s Jeremy, Jordan. There’s been a…accident.”

She saw the truth in Elliot's eyes even before she could form the words to ask. “Is he?”

“I’m sorry. I need you to come with me.” His trained, professional eye panned across her face gauging how much to reveal.

“Elliott just tell me—“

“I’ll explain everything, but right now there are some detectives who need to speak with you.”

Detectives? When the reality of what he wasn't telling her finally settled in, Jordan turned on her heel and headed for the door.

Elliot hesitated only a second before following. “Jor...Jordan wait up.”

“Oh my -- where is he, Elliot?” But she knew. They'd have taken Jeremy to the Intensive Care Unit.

Jordan repeatedly jabbed the elevator button until the doors slid open. Before they door closed, Elliott hopped inside.

“Tell me what happened to my brother, for God sake Elliott.” Her voice broke.

“I don’t know all the details yet, Jordan. The police…” He stopped and looked away.

“The police?” That was the second time he's mentioned the police. “You said this was an accident?”

“Jordan, I don’t know anything more. They want to talk to you. They’ve been asking for the next of kin since Jeremy arrived.”

The next of kin? Before she could even let herself consider those words the doors opened to the fifth floor.

“This way, Jordan.” Elliott spoke in that quiet, reverent tone he used to deliver devastating news to loved ones. She'd heard it a thousand times in the past but never felt its impact before today. Now, each word carried the weight of a blow.

At the very end of the long ICU coffidor lined with doors was where the most serious patients belonged.

Those without hope.

Elliot stopped outside the last door. Across the hall, a small waiting area had been set up apart from the floor's main waiting room. An assortment of magazines spread out across the chairs and small glass table. The hospital's chaplain had authorized several religious pamphlets as well as a Gideon bible placed on one of the side tables.

Two men in suits sat flipping through a couple of women's magazines. Their interest on anything but the pages before them.

“Jordan, these are the detectives investigating Jeremy’s…accident.”

The men got to their feet at the sight of her, simultaneously dropping the magazines to the table in front of them.

The older of the two stepped forward. A balding middle-aged man who resembled Andy Sipowitz from NYPD Blue looked as if he spent too much time behind a desk in the company of a box of glazed.

“Jordan Scott?” He wiped a hand across the jacket of his off-the-rack, dark green suit then stuck it out. “I’m Detective Frank Burbeck. I’m with the homicide unit.”

“Doctor Jordan Scott.” She corrected automatically then regretted the sharpness in her tone. After years of dealing with arrogant male doctors who looked down their noses at most female interns, asserting herself had become second nature. Especially at brely five-foot-three, a hundred pounds and a youthful appearance. Most people's reaction was surprise when they learned she was a doctor. At thirty, she'd struggled to survive in the mostly male dominated environment of Manhattan General.

“I’m sorry.” The one positive memory Jordan had of her mother was the gentleness of her nature. Barbara Scott never raised her voice or spoke down to another person. Even the scum of a human being she called a husband.

It ended up costing her life in the end.

Jordan promised she'd never let herself become a doormat or a punching bag to any man. She knew she rubbed people the wrong way. She accepted this. But being out and out rude was not part of her character. At least not under normal circumstances.

But then, nothing about these slow moving seconds could be classified as normal.

“Why is homicide involved in my brother’s case?” The possibilities were disturbing. She couldn't think about any of those things. She needed to be with Jeremy.

“I apologize, Doctor Scott.” The portly detective suddenly seemed ill at ease. She wouldn't have gauged him for havin a softer side but clearly she'd been wrong. Sharp gray eyes held kindness in them.

“Can’t this wait? I need to be with my brother.”

“I’m sorry, Doctor Scott, I’m afraid this can’t wait.” For the first time, the younger detective stepped forward, infusing sympathry into his tone. Until then, he seemed content to let his partner control the interview. She guessed his age to be somewhere in his early thirties. Startling blue eyes calculated her every reaction. A cop's natural instinct that was hard to shut off.

He raked a hand carelessly through unruly waves of sandy-blond hair then stuck it out to her. “I’m Detective Riley Donovan. We need to ask you some questions about fiancé. Caesar Santiago.”

Questions about Caesar? “What are you talking about? What has my fiancé to do with this?”

Detectives Donovan and Burbeck exchanged a look that sent an uneasy shiver down her spin. Donovan moved closer. With one strong hand against her lower back, he moved her away from Elliot. Jordan could feel strength radiating from his fingers. In some strange way, it was comforting. She'd been shaken from shock since Elliot told her about Jeremy. “Doctor, please, if you could give us just a few minutes.

Jordan closed her eyes. Didn't he understand Jeremy might not have a few minutes? She needed to say goodbye to her brother.

She jerked free of the detective's touch. “Whatever you have to ask can wait. I need to see my brother.” Before she'd taken a single step the intercom system announced a code blue. Someone was crashing. Within seconds, the trauma team raced toward Jeremy's room. Jordan pushed past the detective and followed, a thousand different thoughts chased through her head.

She remembered the last conversation she'd has with Jeremy that morning. There'd been something in his tone. It was the first time they'd actually had a real conversation in - what - a couple of weeks. He told her he needed to talk to her. She'd assumed it could wait. Why had she chosen to pull a double shift? Why hadn't she listened to that little voice inside her head that told her Jeremy needed her?

The room was crowded with emergency personnel working frantically to save her brother's life. She stood immobile at the foot of  the bed watching the lifeless body of the ninetten-year-old kid she'd all but raised alone.

Someone announced -- “Time of death…”

Someone screamed.

The doctor in charge gave Jordan only a cursory glance before pronouncing the time -- twelve-o-seven AM.

Then the room spun into slow motion. The blackness. And strong yet gentle hands reached out to hold her tight.

                            ***

In the blink of an eye, time had become a precious commodity. Every second counted for Detective Riley Donovan. Wit a brief nod to his partner, he carried Jordan Scott's lifeless body to one of the empty rooms close by. His partner stood guard outside of Jeremy Scott's room as Riley laid her on the bed.

He clasped her hands in his. They felt cold as ice. In sleep, she looked fragile. She was not. No one could deal with trauma and death on a daily basis and not be made of strong material.

“What happened?” He almost didn't catch the words. Even though he'd been staring at her it took a minute to realize she'd spoken. Clear hazel eyes held so much pain. He leaned closer. He'd never seen eyes quite so clear or expressive before.

“Detective Donovan? Where am I?” The sound of his name jarred him back to the moment. I

“I’m sorry. Are you okay?” Slowly she propelled herself up on her elbows. “You fainted.”

“Yes, I think so.” It took another moment and then she remembered her brother. “Jeremy.” Her face crumbled. The tears she'd been fighting since they met came out in rush of sobs.

Riley blew out a frustrated breath and gave in to the need to comfort her. Time be damned. He simply held her while she cried.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered against her hair. He'd formed a connection with her through her grief. He'd seen this reaction a dozen times in the past. Survivors of violet crimes, those who lost oved ones tragically were his specialty. They leaned on those closest to them upon hearing the news. Until now, he'd managed to distance himself emotionally. “We’ll get whoever is responsible for doing this to your brother, Doctor Scott. I promise.”

The woman in his arms shuddered then gently pushed at his chest. Riley let her put the space she needed between them. She inched away, embarrassed by her tears and gathered air into her lungs.

Riley took her face in his hands and forced her to look at him. “Don’t speak. Don’t ask questions. I need you to listen to me very carefully. Your life may depend on it.”

Those endless clear eyes focused on his expression first. Maybe it was his words. His tone. The grimness in his eyes. He wasn't sure. But he'd gotten through to her. He thought he saw her nod. “I’m sorry about your brother. But you have to know the truth. This wasn’t a random act of violence like you’ll hear. This was deliberate.”

“What are you talking about?” She knew something. It was there in the way her eyes raked his. She shook her head. “Who would want Jeremy dead? He was just a kid.”

Outside, Riley heard his partner making conversation in a loud voice. Santiago. He retrieved one of his business cards and slipped it into her lab coat.

“You can reach me at any of those number listed on my business card. My cell phone's on all the time. Don't hesitate to call. I need to talk to you in private but for now, just listen. We only have a few minutes and your life might just be in danger as well. I need you to promise me you won't trust anyone. Especially those closest to you. Especially not Caesar Santiago.”

“Danger?” She tried to pull away but this time he didn't let her. Something inside her stilled.

Riley's gaze held hers. “Jeremy’s death wasn't the result of any random shooting or drive by like you'll be told. It's a deliberate attempt to send a message.”

“Message? What message. I-I don't understand—“

Before Riley could answer, the door flew open and Frank stepped inside followed by another man. To any one quietly looking on, the tall well-dressed man would have appeared to be anything but dangerous.

“Ah, see -- there she is, Mr. Santiago.” Frank shot Riley a questioning look. He shook his head. “Safe and sound.”

Caesar Santiago assessed the scene before him not missing Riley's arms around his fiancé. An spectrum of emotions flashed within his dark eyes. Anger. Jealousy.

Good. Riley could only hope some of the man's true personality would show to his fiancé.

Riley deliberately took his time releasing her.

“Jordan my love, are you okay?” The caring persona slipped back into place. If Riley didn't the monster that lurked beneath the polished exterior, he might actually believe Santiago was as grief stricken as girl.

“I’m so sorry, my love. So sorry. This is such a tragedy.” Caesar Santiago ignored Riley altogether. Moving to his fiancé side, he took her in his arms. Only Riley and of course Santiago caught the way her body stiffened in his arms for a moment before she relaxed against him.

Riley could only hope some of what he'd said had gotten through.

“Oh, baby, I'm so sorry. So sorry. I can't believe this is happening. I came as soon as I heard the news.”

Riley moved away as Santiago switched to Spanish for his fiancé’s ears only. Riley wondered what lies he'd tell her this time to convince her of his innocence.

Frank tapped his shoulder and silently indicated they should leave. As he followed his partner to the door, he turned in time to see fear and something else in Jordan Scott's beautiful eyes.

Dear God he hoped it was doubt.

                             ***

“David – get the locals off this thing before they blow everything!”

Even at one in the morning, the implication in those words came through loud and clear. U.S. Attorney David Enfield had been in his office less than five minutes when the call came through on his private cell number.

“I’m working on it. We have to be careful though. You know what's at stake. Hang tight. We'll have this fixed by morning.” He assured the man with more confidence than he felt at this time of the morning.

David flipped the cell phone shut then picked up his office phone. “Jason, get me Agent Thomas on the phone right now.” He slammed the office receiver down without waiting for deputy attorney Jason Woods to reply. Jason wasn't the reason behind his anger. Just the object of its release.

years of undercover work, not to mention months of surveillance down the tube in less than an hour ago when they'd learned of Jason Scott's murder.

There'd been no question who pulled the trigger. The only question remaining was how they were going to prove it. Unfortunately, in the law inforcement world one hand did not always know what the other hand was doing. Cooperation within the ranks was virtually nonexistence at times.

The NYPD homicide division had been the first to catch the call. The two detectives in charge of the case would be well into workin the details of case by now. They'd need to put a lid on the investigation before more lives could be lost. Namely Jordan Scott.

Jason, unperturbed by David's nasty attitude and in his usual laid back manner strolled into his office while carrying on a conversation on his cell. He sat down and handed David the phone. “Thomas.”

David took the phone. “How the hell did our star witness end up dead?” He asked without any preliminary hello.

“Dave, he was supposed to meet us at the safe house tonight – or rather yesterday. He just wanted to speak to his sister one last time.”

“And you agreed to that? What was he doing wandering around the old neighborhood without an escort? You knew how potentially dangerous the situation could be. What the hell were you thinking? What about the sister? Have you got her to agree to talk with us yet.”

“Dave, I'm working on the sister. But the kid begged me to let him see her one last time. What was I supposed to do? She practically raised him--”

David swiveled his chair around to look out his office window. Even at this hour, New York City held a certain electrical current. The streets were alive with it. People didn't sleep in this city. “And now he’s dead.”

“I know. I know, Dave. The kid was a screw up from the get go.”

Typical, David thought to himself. Agent Thomas was good as passing the blame. “Get down to the 29th. Get with the lieutenant in charge and get this case back before the NYPD can screw around with this thing any more than they have already.”

“I’m on it, Dave. Don't worry. We'll make this right.”

“It’s a little too late for that, don't you think.” David flipped the phone shut. It pissed him off to no end that a senior FBI agent like Thomas had fallen for an informant's bullshit story. The kid should never have been left alone. David'd only met Jeremy Scott twice but he could see the kid had a knack for spinning a tale and using people. He'd used his sister. Them. And hadn't provided a nickel's worth of hard evidence before his death. At least nothing they could use. Mostly just promises.

“So what’s our next move, boss.” Jason's question intruded into this troubled thoughts.

“Beats me. We can't pull in our guy. Too dangerous. Besides we've worked too hard to get this deep inside an organization as big as the Santiago Cartel. I'm not ready to pull the plug yet. But this is one hell of a mess.” David swiveled the chair to face Jason. “Get the team in here. Everyone,” He anticipated Jason's next question. “Including Thomas' team. We need to figure out how we're going to fix this thing. And now.”

“What about—“

David shook his head. “No. He needs to distance himself from this mess. The last thing we need right now is for our guy to get too suspicious of those around him.”

                             ***

Jordan somehow managed to hold it together until they'd left the hospital. She felt numb inside. Dead. Just like her brother. She wanted to scream. Blame someone. Throw something. Ram her fist through a wall. She couldn't. She had to remain in control because that's what she did.

Outside, a crisp, early morning fall day greeted them. But unlike all those times before, today she stepped out into a world that would never be the same again.

Caesar seemed to real her thoughts. “It will be okay, my love. I promise it will.”

The sound of his voice grated along her sensitive nerves. He brought her close to the warmth of his body. Something about being close to him now, after hearing what the detective had hinted at repulsed her.

Its just the detective's innuendos, she told herself. But was it? She kept remembering little things that she'd dismissed as insignificant in the past. Like some of the comments Jeremy made in recent times. She remembered one in particular. They'd been arguing about Jeremy's disturbing change in attitude. For months before his death, Jeremy had become withdrawn.

Moody. Angry. So unlike the carefree kid she'd help raise.

When Jordan finally confronted her brother about his dramatic change in behavior at first Jeremy refused to talk about it she'd demanded to know what was going on in his life. He actually laughed in her face and then he'd asked her how well she really thought she knew him or Caesar.