Page 31 of Rules of Engagement

Chapter Eight

I nodded to Officer Broderick as I paused at the door, my heart thumping. A woman in a red coat, with long, black hair had her back to me. If I found out she was his secret wife, I didn't know what I would do. Stay? Or turn and run very far away? Maybe I'd add her name to the suspect list. I slid open the door and stepped inside, bracing myself.

Relief flooded me as the woman sitting at Solomon's bedside turned around. This was no mystery woman or secret wife! I would have known the tall, beautiful woman anywhere.

"Anastasia!" I exclaimed. "You're here!"

"Lexi!" Anastasia got to her feet and we met in the middle, hugging quickly. She released me and we both looked at Solomon. "The nurse said he hasn't woken up since the surgery," she said.

"No," I said as we hooked arms. "He hasn't."

"Your mom and dad went to get a hot drink. I think they wanted to give me a few minutes alone with my brother."

"I'll go find them," said Garrett. He hovered in the doorway and raised a hand to Anastasia, half waving a greeting. "Nice to see you again, Anastasia."

"You too, Garrett," she said, turning back to Solomon. "I've never seen him like this," she said softly. "He's never looked vulnerable before. What happened? I mean, I know what happened, but why? I don't understand."

"That's what I'm trying to find out." I moved around the bed, waving away Anastasia's offer of her chair and pulled up the spare one on the other side. I sat and took hold of Solomon's hand, watching him carefully for any sign that he might awaken. Anastasia was right; he did look vulnerable. His eyes were closed, his face softer in sleep than I ever recalled. His chest rose and fell with the aid of a breathing tube. The bandage was new and I wondered who changed it and if the wound beneath it was healing. I didn't even know how many stitches he had.

"You mean, you don't know why someone would shoot him?" Anastasia turned to me, looking appalled.

"You do?" I asked.

"No! I meant I thought you would already know, or that the police would have already found the shooter... or... or... You don't know who shot him, do you?" she finished, her shoulders slumping.

"I'm sorry, I don't yet, but I have everyone at the agency working on it. We're gathering names and considering motives, and looking for witnesses, but it's a slow process. Garrett is overseeing the case at MPD and they're running ballistics on the gun and they also dusted the entire area. Everyone is doing everything they can."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Did Solomon ever mention any threats?" I asked.

"No, never, but I'm not sure that he would. He never wanted me to worry."

"Did he mention anything recently? Anything that might sound strange now?"

"We last spoke a couple weeks ago and he sent a text message to say hi a few days ago. I didn't reply because I was busy," she said, sniffing back a sob.

"Solomon knew that," I told her, wishing I had some way of comforting her other than with platitudes. "He was, he is, really proud of you."

"Thanks. Would you excuse me for a minute? I need to get some air," she said, her voice cracking.

"Of course." I listened to Anastasia go out, first her footsteps then the sound of the glass door sliding shut, leaving Solomon and me alone.

"You need to wake up," I told Solomon, my left hand over his, my engagement ring pointing up like a shiny beacon. "I love you, John, and I'll find out who did this, but you need to wake up."

Solomon remained still, and the beeping from the monitors was strangely reassuring. He still fought for his life and for me, and that was almost enough.

I slid my hands away and got up, walking over to the window. Solomon's room overlooked the front of the hospital. There was a lot of paving, interspersed with squares for trees and shrubs, and a drop off point for cars. I watched several people climbing out of taxis and making their way into the building. The day was overcast, gray clouds almost obliterating the blue sky. It would probably rain later and I'd forgotten to grab a jacket. I could probably send Garrett to pick it up but I didn't want to waste his time. For a few minutes, I watched the movements in the parking lot. Cars coming and going. People alighting from taxis. A nurse pushing a wheelchair. Someone locking their bike in the bike rack. A pair of doctors in white coats. Everything looked so normal. I wondered how many lives would be saved here today and how many people waited, like I did, for news.

My cellphone began to vibrate. "Hi, Lucas," I said as I continued to stare outside.

"I got the camera footage you wanted," he began. "There was a dark blue motorcycle picked up at the traffic lights two blocks from your house just a couple minutes after... you know."

"Go on."

"The plate is partially blacked out but I ran it through a program and got a hit for the registration. It's not good news. The motorcycle was stolen two days ago."

"A stolen motorcycle on my street at that time sounds like it had to be involved."

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