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CHAPTER FOURTEEN: CICELY

I watch Chrome walk away. Again. I’m tempted to walk into Mode’s room and smack him awake so that Chrome has no reason to keep coming back to the hospital. Not that I would. It’s unprofessional and wouldn’t work. Mode will wake up when he’s ready. I just wish he’d hurry the fuck up. I don’t think my heart can take much more of Chrome running hot and cold.

“Cicely,” Dr. Kemper says, drawing my attention away from the man intent on pummeling my psyche.

“Yes, Dr. Kemper,” I say as I take in his appearance. He looks as defeated as I feel. This is unusual for the usually upbeat and confident doctor. “Are you alright?” I ask before I can stop myself.

The slight grin he gives me is more of a grimace. “Not really. We have another patient coming up. She’s in recovery right now. Same injuries as Jane Doe.”

I feel his announcement as a punch to the gut. Another victim? What’s going on? Is someone out there attacking older women? “Why is someone doing this?”

“I don’t know. The cops will need to rerun their tests. Maybe this time they’ll find something.”

I nod as I mentally prepare for the new patient and the exams.

“Mr. Michaelson doesn’t want to move to another room. He wants us to release him. I examined him and concur that he’s ready to leave us. Here are his release papers.”

I take the papers and call down for the orderly to bring up a wheelchair before gathering the supplies for the arrival of our second Jane Doe. Once I’m done there, I enter Mr. Michaelson’s room. Gray’s there as usual, but so is a pretty, young woman who looks enough like Blue Michaelson that I figure she must be his sister.

“Cicely, hi,” says Gray when he spots me.

“I understand you’re leaving us?”

Blue smiles. “Gray thinks I’ve been shirking my duties long enough.”

“I have to say, I agree,” I joke. “Dr. Kemper signed off on your release papers. The orderly will be up here soon with a wheelchair. And before you ask, yes, you have to use it. Hospital policy. At virtually every hospital.”

The two of them chuckle.

“Guess you get that argument often?” Blue asks.

“From just about every patient. Yes.” I smile to soften the criticism.

A commotion at the door draws our attention. Padre stands there with his phone in his hand. He nods at me before focusing his attention on Blue and Gray. “Glad I caught you. Do you recognize this bike?” Padre holds the phone up for Blue and Gray to study it.

“That’s my bike!” Blue says excitedly. “Where did you find it?”

“Chrome found it,” Padre says. “He thought it was yours and asked me to verify. He said there were some scratches, but other than those, the bike’s in good condition. Let me know where you want him to deliver it, and he’ll take care of the transportation.”

Blue rattles off an address. “This is great news. I thought for certain I’d never see that bike again.”

I glance between Blue’s beaming face and Padre’s troubled one. I don’t know where Chrome found the bike, but wherever it was, it wasn’t good news for Chrome. Not if Padre’s concern is a judge. Padre sends a text off to Chrome before returning to Mode’s room.

“Do you need help getting dressed?” I ask Blue, who waves me off. Gray and I leave Blue alone to change.

“It’s going to be weird not coming here every day,” Gray says.

“You’ll forget all about us soon enough,” I grin.

“Seriously, thank you for taking such good care of my friend,” he says. “I know it’s your job, but I still appreciate it. We both do.”

“You’re welcome. Did the doctor go over everything with you and Mr. Michaelson for his care and what to watch out for?”

“He did. We each have an apartment above our workshop and showroom, so I can watch out for him. His sister will stay until Blue’s back on his feet.” Gray glances at Mode’s room. “Do you think I can go in and talk to the bikers?”

“Of course,” I reply.

When I spot the orderlies wheeling in my new patient, I brace myself for what I’m about to face. The poor woman. The pain she must have gone through breaks my heart. At least for now, she’s unconscious and able to heal without feeling the pain.

The same detective and a crime scene tech follow behind when they wheel her in. After handing the rape kit to the tech, I move next to the detective. “Another Jane Doe?” I ask, and he nods. “You’d think someone would be missing these women.”

“Besides their cats?” he asks with a smirk.

“Guys like you are why women prefer cats to men,” I snap. “Are you looking for the man doing this to them, or do you not care that someone brutalized these women?”

“Now look here. I’m investigating these cases, but do you know how many violent crimes occur every day in this city? She probably got beaten up because she tried to steal from the wrong person.”

I open my mouth to protest, but the crime scene tech calls him over.

I’m fuming, but the interruption allows me to see the orderly with Mr. Michaelson’s wheelchair. I help Blue and Gray leave the ICU before calling the EVS team to clean and disinfect Mr. Michaelson’s now-empty room. Unable to stop myself, I return to the second Jane Doe’s room.

“Have you tried showing their pictures to local spas?” I ask the unpleasant detective.

“Why would I do that? What would old women like them go to a spa for?”

“Both victims have been waxed and look at their toenails,” I press, pointing at the woman’s bare feet. “They’ve both had pedicures. Expensive pedicures. These women have money.”

He scoffs, but the crime scene tech nods her head. “She’s right. This woman has received serious beauty care. Expensive care. Reported the same on the other victims as well.”

“Other victims?” I ask, glancing at the wall where the first Jane Doe lies unconscious. “How many women?”

“Four. The two here and there are two others at Holy Cross,” the tech says.

“Why the fuck are you sharing information with a civilian?” the detective barks at the tech.

He shrugs. “Nurses are observant, and if she’s right, and I think she is, someone will come looking for at least one of these women. They may try the hospitals before calling the cops.”

The detective fumes, but he takes a deep breath to calm himself. “Okay, yeah, that’s a possibility. You said these women have received beauty treatments?”

“Expensive beauty treatments,” I tell him. “You could check with hairdressers and spas; one of the technicians might recognize them. Both women have remarkable and somewhat unique hair.”

“Are the women similar?” the detective asks the tech.

“I didn’t examine the second Jane Doe they admitted to this hospital, but I saw the notes. I examined the other two, and I agree with Nurse Oswald. The women have had regular beauty treatments. You might get lucky and find someone who recognizes one or all of them.”

“Where were the women found?” I ask.

The detective frowns at me. I expect him to tell me to fuck off, but he answers my question. “In alleyways near homeless encampments. I figured they were living there. We have a problem with violence against the homeless. I didn’t consider that someone just dumped them there. They wore rags. I never considered what was beneath the rags.”

His words piss me off. Too many men see older women as unimportant. Useless. Men who care only about women they find attractive. I want to rip into him for not caring about these women until faced with the realization that these women might be wealthy.

“So, now that you realize they have money, they’re suddenly important?” I ask the detective. He has the decency to wince at the scorn in my tone. “This city has someone out there who is brutalizing women. It shouldn’t matter if they have money or not.”

“Okay, okay, I hear you. Alright? I have something to work with, so I’ll see if I can identify these women and hopefully figure out who attacked them. Let me know if you find anything else that might be helpful,” the detective says before leaving the room.

I glance at the crime scene tech, who gives me a grin. “He’s an ass, but he is a good detective. Now that he has something to work with, he’ll find the asshole.”

“Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. They should put someone on this case who cares about these women. He’s the asshole.”

“Can’t argue with you there. He is an asshole. He’s usually smart. He’s also proud. He’ll kick himself for letting the window dressing distract him from a potential lead.”