I should call Harry or Cam, but they’ll just tell me to stay put and go themselves. If I go, it’ll just be a friendly chat among two victims of Alkaline. And I was one of the people to save him that night. Those excuses work for me. I fix myself up a bit, check to make sure my .38 is still in my purse, and spend a few seconds debating whether or not to put on the coat. The bulletproof factor trumps the tracking factor, so I do. Joanna Fallon, back in action.
Geoff and Bryan follow me without any questions, only sideways glances. Lord knows what they think or God forbid know about what happened last night. I won’t mention it if they don’t. They follow behind the Cobra all the way to the hospital. When we reach Our Lady, nurses and doctors approach me to offer condolences, but I just smile and walk on. I’m on a mission. There’s no time for pleasantries.
When I reach the burn ward, I spot Dr. Sharma. He seems surprised to see me and my boulders. “Det. Fallon?”
“Hi. I just came to check on Logan. How’s he doing?”
“I assume well,” he says with a hint of frustration. “He checked himself out AMA this morning.”
“Why the hell did he do that?”
“Claimed he didn’t feel safe here. I couldn’t persuade him otherwise.”
“He say where he was going?”
“Home, I suppose. Your colleagues went with him.”
Crap. Luckily, I wrote down his mother’s address in the Ward just in case I needed to interview her. We drive there and park on the street. I really don’t want to leave my friend’s hundred thousand dollar car with only a crackhead on the corner to watch it, but I don’t have a choice. Want both guards here for this. Good thing he has six others to drive if it gets stolen. The men and I walk past the police cruiser parked outside the apartment building. I don’t recognize them but I still wave. They wave back. I push several buttons until an unsuspecting resident allows us entry.
For the Ward this building is upper class with fresh paint, uncracked windows, and no druggies passed out in the hallways. The Dodds live on the sixth floor. I have the men hang back so as not to scare anyone. Nice and friendly, that’s what this’ll be. A woman in her late thirties with graying brown hair and thick body opens the door, the intense smell of cigarettes wafting from inside. She eyes me up and down, not liking what she sees.
I smile. “Hi, Miss Dodd. Is Logan home?”
“Aren’t you that cop?” she asks with distaste.
“Yes, I’m one of the detectives on your son’s case. I found him the night he was injured, and I just wanted to check on him. I heard he was released from the hospital. May I come in?” I don’t wait for an answer. The apartment is nice with recliner, new wallpaper, and big entertainment center. Nothing flashy, though a little on the odd side for an unemployed woman. “You know, I didn’t realize it until today, but we know some people in common.” I pick up a picture of young Logan playing video games in this apartment. “Ray Lilley’s my uncle.”
“Who?”
I put the picture back. “He has a garage on the corner of Miller and Frank.”
“I don’t know it.”
I saunter back to the door with the Galilee Angel’s pendant on it and stop. “Oh. Well, Logan’s father did. Desmond.”
“That was a lot of years ago.”
“I know. I was just a kid when he died, but I remember it. Very dramatic.”
“Not the words I’d use to describe it,” she says with a cruel smile.
“It was, even for the Ward. The pregnant girlfriend watching her up-and-coming mobster boyfriend gunned down right in front of her by her ex. It was all anyone could talk about for a week. All the details are seared into my brain. All of them.”
Her mouth twitches. “What do you want?”
I smile as brightly as I can. “I told you. I’m looking for your son.”
She folds her arms. “He’s not here. He’s told the police everything he knows. He needs to rest.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Well, if he needs to rest, why isn’t he here? Gallivanting all over town can’t be good for him,” I say with a chuckle. “Neither can going out without protection. Huh.”
“Get out of my apartment, Detective,” Dodd says. “You have no right to be here. Get out!”
I cock my head to the side. “Why so serious?” I reach behind, opening the bedroom door as I spin around. A scared Logan, bad arm in a sling, stands on the other side of his bed filling a duffel bag. “Going somewhere?”
The kid reaches down onto the bed with his one hand, and my instincts take over. As he raises his arm, I barely get a glimpse of the gun before leaping behind the wall for cover. Two gunshots ring out, hitting the doorframe where I just stood, missing me by an inch. I reach into my purse for my weapon and there’s another shot, this one hitting the recliner in the living room. The front door pounds open at the same time. Geoff and Bryan, guns out, bust in. Sophia Dodd screams and backs into a corner. Not so tough now. Geoff covers Sophia, but Bryan runs over to me. There are no more shots. I peek around the corner carefully, but no shots ring out. I check again and take in the empty room and open window.