Luke Murphy - Dead Man's Hand

In case someone was looking for Baxter, Dale used false names and told the medical staff at the ER to keep Watters’ and Baxter’s admissions quiet.

After a light rap on the door, he stepped inside. The fetid smell of sanitizer and unwashed bed sheets greeted Dale. Watters’ head had been propped up on two pillows, but his eyes weren’t all the way open.

“Detective Dayton, I recognize you from the Vegas website.”

“Calvin Watters.” Dale smiled. “The man with the plan.”

They shook hands.

“How long have I been out?”

“Just the night.” Dale pulled a chair close to the bed. “How do you feel?”

“Like I got hit by a bus. How’s Rachel?”

“She’s in a safe house, like we agreed. When you feel up to it, I’ll bring her in, but I don’t think the timing is right, yet.”

Watters nodded.

“You scared the hell out of us, Calvin. When we heard the gunshots, we took off in a sprint. I’m glad you had given us the layout of the workshop so I knew where to find the generator, but when you weren’t in the computer room, I thought the worst. When we found you upstairs, it looked like World War III. We were lucky Baxter didn’t die, even with the tourniquet I put on. Thank God we had the paramedics on standby.”

“Thanks for staying by my side. You weren’t the only one scared.”

“You’re in better shape than Baxter.”

“How is he?”

“He’s alive. I don’t suppose there’s too much work for a one-legged assassin.”

Watters grimaced. “Sorry, I wanted him in better shape to stand trial.”

“Don’t be sorry. You did what you had to do.” After a few minutes of awkward silence, he asked. “So why’d you do it? Why’d you leave the computer room? That wasn’t part of the plan.”

Watters tried to sit up. Dale helped him into a partial seated position.

“I had to have him. I had to win. That’s the truth.”

“So how did you do that?”

Watters smiled. “I know it’s corny. But I tackled that motherfucker like I was back playing ball.”

“You really pulled my ass out of the fire, Calvin.”

Watters’ smile broadened. “No offense, but you know I did it to save myself too. I had to save Rachel and get information about the murders.”

A nurse entered. They were going to prep Watters for tests on any hidden damage.

When Watters was done, Dale returned to the room where the doctor was addressing the patient. “I’ve seen worse—a slight concussion, a couple of head wounds, a cut above your right eye and on your left cheekbone. Your eye will swell up some. We didn’t stitch up the bullet wound for fear of infection. The bullet had a clean exit. We’ll change the bandages every couple of hours to make sure it’s clean and dry. Your shoulder will require some therapy, but you should regain a hundred percent mobility. The nurse will be in with your painkillers.”

As if on cue, the door opened and a short, pretty nurse walked in holding a tiny white envelope.

She slipped in between the bed and doctor, shook out three pills and set them on the bedside table. “This is Naproxen, 375mg per pill. Take one every 4-6 hours and don’t take more than five a day.”

Watters snorted and smiled at the doctor. “Doc, you’re gonna have to do better than that. I’ve been on a steady dose of painkillers for the last three years, from Tylenol to morphine. With all my new injuries and my tolerance for medication over the years, I’m gonna need some serious stuff.”

The doctor pulled Dale to the side and whispered. “Is this patient narcotic dependant? Should I be concerned that Mr. Watters will go into narcotic withdrawal after a gunshot? Because that will greatly influence my prescription.”

Dale nodded.

“I’ll prescribe something stronger.” The surgeon smirked and left the room.

The nurse took a couple of quick tests and said, “I’ll be back with your new medication.”

When the door closed, Dale went over to the bed and grinned. “You keep talking like that and they’ll drug you up like a racehorse.” He handed Watters a cup of water and asked, “So how did you know Baxter would use the back entrance?”

Watters took a drink and smiled. “I made the lock difficult to break, so Baxter would think that everything was real, but I didn’t make it impenetrable like the other entrances. That was the only door Baxter could use.”

“You have a minute, Dayton?”

Dale turned to see his Sergeant. The sergeant shook Watters’ hand.

“What do we know about Baxter?” Watters asked.

“Last night was busy. We haven’t grilled him yet,” Dale said.

The sergeant grabbed Dale by the sleeve. “Can I have a word with you, Dayton?” he asked and pulled him into the hallway.

The sergeant was talking before the door had even closed behind them. “You almost fucked this one up and don’t forget that Watters is a civilian. Should we be divulging information about Baxter?”

He looked at his sergeant. “For one thing, why are you here?”

“I’m checking my men, making sure everyone is okay.”

“Bullshit. There’s more. And two, I think we owe Watters this much. He just put his life on the line for us. Why don’t you go back to the office and I’ll let you know when you’re needed.”

“Who died and gave you guts? Okay. Whatever. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

After the sergeant turned and stomped off, Dale returned to the room and spoke to Watters. “After we got you and Baxter into the ER last night, I spent the night here in the hospital while Jimmy stayed with Rachel in case I needed to contact her. I got back to the office for a few minutes this morning, while you were in surgery, and brought those files with me. But my team has been working through the night. All we know for sure is that Baxter was born in Biloxi, Mississippi. From Sanders’ phone records, we found several phone calls to a phone booth in New Orleans and we expect that’s who Sanders was calling. As a rule, assassins like to hang out near home, believe it or not. I’ll follow up later.”

“So what are you going to do about Sanders?”

“I’m not sure yet. I…”

There was a light rap on the door and a nurse entered with a new envelope. “This is Ketoprofen, 50mg capsules for acute pain. It will act as both a pain killer and anti-inflammatory. Take one every four to six hours.”

“Thanks,” he said.

The nurse left.

Dale said, “I’m going to the office now to see what my team has found. We have to wait for the doctor’s permission to interrogate Baxter and I want to be ready when I do. Calvin, Jimmy and I would like you to watch us interview Baxter. We can check Baxter’s information with you. Maybe you’ll be able to expand on it or illuminate. What do you say?”

Watters smiled and nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Good. You should get some rest now. I’ll be back later.”

Chapter 39

Everyone was in that Sunday, recharged now that Baxter had tried to kill Watters and maybe more. The department was in full operational mode—phones ringing, papers rustling, fingers tapping keyboards and anxious chatter. Dale’s team hadn’t been this alive since the investigation had started, when Grant’s body was found more than four days ago.

Jimmy was already at his desk, looking like he’d gotten even less sleep, when Dale strode through, peeled off his jacket and set it on the back of his chair. A steaming mug of coffee was already sitting on his desk.

“How’s Watters?” Jimmy asked.

“Recovering. He seems to be in good spirits, considering the circumstances. Any word on when we can talk with Baxter?”

Jimmy shook his head. “Couple of hours. He had a full amputation and will be lucid by then, or good enough.”