Page 30

Chapter 30

It's a Start

Mensa

Mensa strode out to the hospital parking lot. He pulled his helmet over his head, and his phone rang.

He took the call, only to be interrupted mid-answer by Dontrell.

“What the hell is this I hear? Houston got shot on your watch! Is she okay?”

Mensa willed himself to stay calm because it was good for Whitney to have someone who cared about her like that. “Take it down a notch, Dontrell. How’d you find out?”

“Who cares how I found out?”

Mensa stayed focused. “Was it your son? Or Scrap? Or did Rod come in to tell you himself?”

“He won’t last two seconds if he comes around here—”

“Don’t say shit like that. You never know who might hear you.”

“Like I give a damn,” Dontrell muttered.

“Why did you call me?”

“To find out about Whitney.”

Mensa gave him a quick summary of what happened and how Whitney was doing.

“Okay. That’s a relief. What are you doing about that asshole?”

He shook his head. “No offense, D, but I wouldn’t tell you if I knew.”

Dontrell’s tone went stern. “I want to help you.”

“I appreciate that, but you don’t need to give the cops another reason to question you.”

Dontrell sighed. “Fine. I’m making a Greek combo plate for her. Come get it, so I don’t have to leave. The assistant manager here is six months pregnant and I’m not leaving her alone.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Half-way to DeeLight’s, Mensa was reminded of how much he despised rush hour traffic. Cars wove in and out of the lanes, and it didn’t matter how loud his pipes were, those distracted drivers rarely knew he was riding next to them.

He pulled into the Division Street location of DeeLight’s, and parked his bike near the entrance. As he unfastened his helmet, he heard approaching sirens from his left. The restaurant wasn’t far from a busy intersection.

He went inside the restaurant, and from the front window, he watched a motorcycle run a red light, turning onto Division Street, narrowly avoiding the on-coming traffic.

The motorcyclist picked up some speed, but then slowed to turn right into DeeLight’s.

“Shit,” Mensa whispered.

The last thing Dontrell needed was some speed-demon trying to hide out in his parking lot.

When the rider pulled to a halt, Mensa saw the Corrupt Chrome MC patch. He reached for his gun, but realized he didn’t have it on him. He’d taken it off and locked it in his saddlebag to go into the hospital to see Whitney. He hadn’t expected to need it for a simple food pick-up.

The sirens grew louder, and Mensa saw there were two police cruisers approaching.

“I’m startin’ to think you bring the trouble with you,” Dontrell said from beside him.

“Thinkin’ that works both ways, D,” Mensa muttered, keeping his eye on the rider who had swung a leg off his bike, but hadn’t turned around.

For a moment, Mensa wondered if it was Whitney’s brother. The rider took off their helmet, turned around, and Mensa recognized Rod reaching for his weapon.

The cruisers sped into the parking lot, both at angles to block Rod.

“We need to move,” Mensa said.

Dontrell turned and led the way to the counter. He told two men sitting on the far side of the dining room to move closer to the counter.

Mensa backed away slowly. As he drew farther away from the windows, he saw Rod raise his gun and point it at the police cruiser closest to him.

The officers were out of their cruisers and crouched with their guns drawn.

Even from such a distance, Rod’s resigned look couldn’t be missed.

One of the cops yelled at Rod to drop his weapon. Mensa couldn’t put his finger on it, but when Rod turned his head toward the street, he got the feeling Rod expected something – no, expected some one – to show up.

The officer yelled again at Rod, and rather than focus on the cops, Rod stared at the restaurant windows. He still had the gun raised, and Mensa shifted farther backward then crouched. The moment the shot rang out, two other shots followed.

A large windowpane shattered. Shards of glass scattered everywhere inside the dining area. Mensa rose and saw two officers crowded around the area where Rod had been standing.

Two more Biloxi PD cars showed up, blocking the parking lot entry. A minute later, an ambulance arrived.

Mensa wandered to the counter. “I don’t think Whitney’s getting that combo plate any time soon.”

“What are you doin’ here?” Wyatt asked when Mensa came out of DeeLight’s.

Mensa lifted a cellophane bag with Whitney’s food. “Dontrell heard about your sister and he insisted I get a to-go order for Whitney… only I got stuck inside the restaurant when Rod pulled into the parking lot.” Mensa looked Wyatt up and down and shrugged a shoulder. “I’d ask what you’re doing here, but obviously your assignment has wrapped up.”

Wyatt thumbed his Kevlar vest with the FBI patch across the chest. “This tends to give it away, if the arrest warrant doesn’t first. While we served the arrest warrant, Rod managed to bolt. We chased him, but I have no idea why he stopped here.”

Mensa tipped his head toward the ambulance. “Are they taking him to Merit?”

Wyatt nodded once. “He’s been officially arrested, so he’ll be under guard and cuffed to the bed once he’s out of surgery.”

Mensa ground his molars together.

Wyatt’s lips tipped up. “Yeah, I’m not thrilled about that since Whitney’s there, but I’ve let people know he’s a security risk.”

“Surprised you’re still here. Seems Biloxi PD has this under control.”

Wyatt nodded toward the restaurant. “I have to talk to Dontrell. There’s enough evidence now, that he’s no longer a person of interest in the arson investigation.”

“That’s good news. I won’t keep you.”

Wyatt stared at him for a long moment, then he lifted his chin and went inside the restaurant.

Mensa loaded the bag into a saddlebag, put on his helmet, and went back to the hospital.

Twenty minutes later, Mensa stopped in the middle of the hospital corridor at the sound of Whitney’s laughter. He’d made her laugh before, but this… it was different. Unadulterated, no holds barred.

No matter how much he knew not to do it, he edged closer to the room and eavesdropped.

“Dad, it’s not as bad as all that.”

“No, it’s worse because this guy’s got your mother duped, too,” William said.

“Are you serious? If you think I can be duped, then you’ve got another think coming, bub,” Margo said.

“Margo, you know what I’m getting at.”

Margo’s tone became stern. “No. I know that you left when you should have stayed and tried to get to know him. How does your favorite saying go? A mind is like a parachute… it only works if it’s open.”

“My mind is open. The problem is that not too long ago she wanted nothing to do with him. Now she’s talking about how he can take care of her getting in and out of the shower.”

“Life’s funny that way, Dad. Not to mention, you and Mom were pretty similar.”

“Your mother never wanted to arrest me.”

“Maybe not, but you’ve told me and Wyatt that you couldn’t stand each other for the longest time. Then all of a sudden you didn’t. I never did find out what changed, but at this point, I don’t want to know.”

A nurse approached from the opposite end of the corridor. Mensa rustled the bag and trudged into the room with a brief knock on the door. “I hope you haven’t eaten yet, Whit. Dontrell wanted me to deliver this to you.”

Whitney smiled at him, but her eyes lit up when she noticed the bag. “Ooh, is that my favorite combo?”

Mensa nodded. “Yeah. Hopefully it’s still hot.”

Whitney shook her head. “Hot tabbouleh doesn’t sound that great, honey.”

“Do you eat that stuff?” William asked, his eyes intent on Mensa.

Mensa huffed out a silent chuckle. “It’s not my go-to, but I tried it for her. I’m more of a gyro man.”

Margo laughed. “That’s what Bill said the first time she brought it home.”

Mensa moved the over-the-bed table so Whitney could reach it, and put the to-go container on it and opened it.

“I could do that,” Whitney said.

He cocked his head. “It won’t bother your stitches? Have you even started therapy?”

Margo hung her head for a beat, then grinned at Mensa. “She had a brief therapy session about an hour ago.”

“Didn’t seem to do much,” William muttered.

“You have to crawl before you can walk, Dad.”

Mensa ran a hand through his hair. “Have they said when you might be discharged?”

Whitney narrowed her eyes on him. “No. Why?”

Mensa leaned a hip on the bed. “Rod got shot today outside DeeLight’s. Cops were chasing him across town, and for some damned reason he led them to Dontrell’s restaurant.”

William glared at Mensa. “That’s the scumbag who abducted her, isn’t it?”

Mensa nodded. “Yeah, and Wyatt notified people about that.”

Whitney shook her head. “How do you know that?”

“Your brother showed up at the scene and spoke to me briefly before I left.”

“You were there when it happened?” Whitney asked.

Mensa hadn’t thought it possible with all the blood Whitney had lost, but her skin had paled.

He dipped his chin. “I was inside the restaurant. There’s no way Rod knew that when he pulled into the parking lot. It seemed like he thought he could hide there or something, but the cops had been too close for him to lose them.”

“Hard to say what his reason was for that, but I don’t think he had any rational thoughts at that point,” Wyatt said, coming into the room and around to the other side of Whitney’s bed.

Mensa stood to give them some space.

Margo grabbed Mensa’s hand. “You aren’t going anywhere. Both of them need to get to know you better. This isn’t the ideal setting, but it’s a start.”

Mensa arched a brow. “I can see where Whitney gets it.”

“Gets what?” Margo asked.

“Her convincing nature.”

To his surprise, everyone in the room erupted into laughter.