David Hosp - Among Thieves

“I have trouble thinking of anyplace she wouldn’t go.” He looked at Finn. “What? You’ve seen her. She’s been on her own for a while, I’m sure she’s got lots of places she can go-none of them good.”

Finn turned his attention back to the road. “She’s my responsibility,” he said.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Kozlowski said.

Finn’s cell phone rang in his pocket. He pulled it out and took a quick look at the readout. The call was being forwarded from the office; the number was blocked. It could be the hospital, Finn thought.

He pressed the button to accept the call and put the phone up to his ear. “This is Finn,” he said. He heard nothing but static; he was traveling through a weak signal, and the noise from his car made it difficult to hear. “Hello?”

“I have the girl,” the voice said.

“Who is this?” From the accent Finn had a pretty good idea, but he could think of nothing else to say.

“ Devon will know who I am,” the voice said. “Tell him I have her. Tell him I want the paintings. If I get the paintings, I’ll let her go. If not, I’ll kill her.”

“I don’t understand; what paintings?” Finn bluffed.

“ Devon will know.” The man’s voice made Finn shiver.

“What if Devon doesn’t know what you’re talking about? What if he doesn’t have any paintings?”

“That would be too bad. Particularly for the girl. His daughter, as I understand it? Either he gives me the paintings, or he trades himself for his daughter. If I have time with him, I’ll find out for myself whether or not he knows anything. Otherwise, she dies. Tell him.”

“I’ll tell him.”

“One more thing,” the man said. “Don’t go to the police. If I think they are involved, I’ll kill her. Then I’ll come after Devon. Then I’ll finish off the woman from today and her old man. Then I’ll come after you. Are we clear?”

“ Crystal,” Finn said.

“Good.”

“I need time to get him out of jail,” Finn said.

“I’ll give you a day, then I’ll call back.”

“I don’t know that it’ll happen that fast.”

“One day, Mr. Finn,” the voice said. “Then I’ll kill the girl.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“You’ll do better than that. I’ll call tomorrow at the end of the day. Six o’clock. Have Malley out, and be ready with an answer. Otherwise, I’ll be coming.” The line went dead.

Finn clicked his phone off and slipped it into his pocket. Kozlowski was still looking at him, saying nothing. “Not good,” Finn said.

“ Devon ’s Irishman?” Kozlowski asked.

Finn nodded. “He’s got Sally. He says he’ll kill her if he doesn’t get the paintings. Either that or Devon trades himself for her.”

“That’s not good,” Kozlowski agreed. “I take it he’s the one who put Lissa in the hospital?”

“Probably. He says that if we go to the police, he’ll kill us all.”

Finn could see Kozlowski’s jaw muscles grow tighter. “Can’t you make this goddamned car go any faster?”

Boston City Hospital was on Massachusetts Avenue, just across the Roxbury border from the South End. The area had traditionally been one of the more dangerous in Boston. Gentrification had edged its way in uneasily during the explosion of real estate costs in the city in the 1990s and early 2000s, but it remained a high-crime neighborhood. Boston was the home to many of the world’s greatest hospitals; due largely to its location, BCH was not considered one of them. It served an urban community without the money or the connections to get into Mass General or Brigham and Women’s. Nevertheless, it was a place with a solid reputation, and a wealth of experience in treating trauma victims.

Finn and Kozlowski gave their names at the desk and were directed to a nurse in an office off to the side of the emergency room. She, in turn, took their information again and made a call to page another nurse. That nurse came down and led them through the emergency room waiting area to an elevator and up to the second floor. No one would answer any of their questions. It wasn’t clear to Finn whether the silence was a result of lack of knowledge or adherence to procedure.

On the second floor, Finn and Kozlowski were introduced to a doctor who at least seemed familiar with Lissa’s status. He was young enough that Finn considered asking for someone older. He was wearing a stethoscope, though, and the nametag on his white coat read “Dr. Jeffson.” Finn suspected that questioning his competence wasn’t going to get them information any quicker.

“She was found on Dorchester,” Dr. Jeffson said. Even his voice sounded young. “She was lying unconscious by the side of the road; her car was parked a few yards away. At first the suspicion was that she’d been in some sort of an accident, but there was no damage to the car, and her injuries are more consistent with an assault. She was hit over the head with something solid. The police are interviewing people, trying to determine exactly what happened, but I wouldn’t hold your breath. It’s not the sort of neighborhood where people see anything.”

“Is she okay?” Kozlowski asked. The concern in his voice was plain, but he was keeping it under control at least.

The doctor blinked at them. “Oh, I thought someone already talked to you about her condition.”

“Not really,” Finn said. “The woman who called said she thought Lissa would be okay, but that’s it.”

“Ah,” the doctor said. He took Finn by the elbow and led him discreetly over to the side of the corridor, as though it would give them some privacy. “I take it that you’re the boyfriend?” he said to Finn.

“No,” Finn said. He nodded to Kozlowski. “He is.”

The young doctor looked over at Kozlowski. His eyes showed his surprise, but to his credit he didn’t miss a beat. “Sorry,” he said. “Mr…?”

“Kozlowski.”

“Yes, Mr. Kozlowski, Lissa is going to be fine. We still don’t know about the baby, however.”

“What baby?” Finn asked.

Jeffson glanced at him, then said to Kozlowski. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

Finn almost fell over. He looked at Kozlowski, wondering whether the news of the pregnancy would come as a surprise to him. It clearly didn’t, though he rocked backward at the mention. “What happened?” he asked.

“It appears that she was also hit in the abdomen. We don’t know whether it has caused any damage yet. It looks as though she’s around ten weeks; we’re going to run an ultrasound as soon as the equipment frees up. Then we’ll know more.”

“Okay.” Kozlowski looked stunned. “Is she conscious?”

“Yes, she woke up about twenty minutes ago. She hasn’t said much. The police wanted to interview her, but she said she was too tired; I got the impression she wanted to talk to you first, and she’s clearly worried about the pregnancy.”

“Can I see her?”

The doctor nodded toward a door down the hallway. “She’s in room 217. I’ll be in as soon as an ultrasound frees up.”

Lissa lay on the bed, both hands resting on her belly. She couldn’t believe what was happening. Any of it. Her head was killing her, and the fact that her thoughts were being pulled in multiple directions didn’t help any. She couldn’t stop thinking about Sally, and the worry was devastating. She had avoided the policeman’s eyes when he first tried to question her. She put her arm over her face and told him that she couldn’t concentrate. That was true. She also said she didn’t remember what happened. That was a lie. She had to lie, though. She needed more information before she involved the police. The Boston Police Department was a blunt instrument, and it wasn’t clear that that was what was needed at the moment.