Nurse McManus could take no more. ‘Right. Out!’ she commanded Detective Johnson. ‘We discussed this outside. She’s supposed to be resting. If I’d known you were going to upset her like this, I would never have brought you in.’
Johnson lumbered angrily to his feet. ‘And if I’d known she was going to insist on keeping her blinkers on even now – even after I saved her goddamned life – I’d have let my partner shoot her!’
Nurse McManus opened her mouth to interject, but Johnson waved her angrily away. ‘Save your breath. I’m leaving,’ he said. Turning back to Nikki he snapped, ‘And you … if you don’t believe me, try turning on the news. Good luck to you, Dr Roberts.’
Like a cloud of storm and fury, he was gone.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Fiona fussed nervously around her patient’s pillows. If Dr Riley found out she’d allowed a visitor and then the patient’s condition deteriorated … ‘I had no idea he was going to upset you like that. He seemed so nice out in the waiting room and he’s been ever so concerned, keeping vigil all through your operation and afterwards.’
‘It’s OK,’ Nikki said blankly, her mind struggling to process everything that Johnson had said. The worst part was that it tallied with her own, fractured memories. Goodman had been about to shoot her. Someone, presumably Johnson, must have stopped him. Or she wouldn’t be lying here, alive and wondering. Would she? And now Goodman was dead too, and so was Luis Rodriguez. Two more bodies to add to the roll call of the dead: Doug, Lenka, Lisa, Trey, Williams. One by one they’d fallen around her.
But I’m still here.
Do I really have that bigot Johnson to thank for it?
‘What did he mean, about turning on the news?’ she asked the nurse.
‘Oh, nothing, I expect,’ the girl replied dismissively. ‘There’s been some coverage about the shoot-out at the warehouse. He probably meant that. But you should rest. I’ll page Dr Riley and be back in a tick.’
Nikki waited till she was alone to pick up the TV remote, attached by a wire to the side of her bed. Flipping the channel to ABC news, she was shocked to see a picture of her own face immediately filling the screen. It was an old professional headshot, taken a few months before Doug’s accident, and if her name hadn’t been printed underneath, Nikki would have had trouble recognizing that pretty, carefree young woman as herself.
‘Beverly Hills Psychologist Dr Nicola Roberts, the woman believed to be at the center of the infamous Zombie Killings case, is said to be in a stable and comfortable condition at Good Samaritan Hospital, after Wednesday night’s shooting incident on San Julian Street downtown, following the reported murder of Rams owner Willie Baden at that same location.’
I wouldn’t say ‘comfortable’, thought Nikki, flinching at the pain in her leg as she listened eagerly to the reporter’s voice.
‘One police officer, Detective Lou Goodman, was also confirmed dead at the scene, along with Mexican businessman and philanthropist, Luis Rodriguez. Both men died from gunshot wounds. Mr Baden’s cause of death has not yet been confirmed by police, although we understand that it was not gun-related. And again at this point we are unclear about the connection between the three victims. Although, as we know, Willie Baden had admitted to an extra-marital relationship with Lisa Flannagan, the first victim of the so-called Zombie Killer. So it would seem there are lots of threads to follow as this story develops.’
The screenshot of Nikki’s face disappeared, replaced by live images of the warehouse, the streets around it now criss-crossed with yellow police tape.
‘Dr Roberts was carried bleeding from this building’ – the reporter gestured over her shoulder – ‘by Detective Michael Johnson, one of the senior officers assigned to the Zombie Killings along with the deceased Detective Goodman.
‘The LAPD have yet to make any official statement regarding Wednesday’s events. However, we can confirm that in the forty-eight hours since the shootings took place, multiple arrests have been made, possibly pertaining to a drug ring that Mr Rodriguez may have been involved with … As I say, Chase, details are still scarce at this stage.’
‘That’s right, Karina.’ They cut back to the TV studio where a blandly handsome anchor in a jacket and tie – presumably ‘Chase’ – took over the narrative from behind the news desk.
‘Things are still pretty confusing on this story but it does appear that drugs were involved, and that Wednesday’s slayings, possibly including that of Willie Baden, may have been a part of a long-running battle for control of LA’s illegal narcotics trade between Mexican and Russian gangs. Last night saw the arrest of prominent LA Philharmonic violinist Anne Bateman, the estranged wife of one of the deceased, Luis Rodriguez. Ms Bateman was actually detained on the tarmac at John Wayne Airport, where we understand she was attempting to board a private plane to Mexico City. Then this morning, as you know, Karina, investment banker Carter Berkeley was arrested at his multimillion-dollar home in the small hours, as was eminent surgeon Haddon Defoe. Also Frankie Jay, a senior official at City Hall, all three men reportedly woken from their beds by armed police as part of the same operation.
‘Police also want to speak to Mrs Valentina Baden, but she is reported to have suffered a collapse following her husband’s death and is not fit to answer questions at this time.’
Stills of Haddon and Carter and the Badens in happier times flashed in front of Nikki’s eyes like part of a dream. So Haddon’s a part of this too?
‘Now we can’t confirm this ourselves,’ the anchor went on, ‘but the LA Times are saying that unnamed sources at the FBI have told them these arrests and the recent shootings are all part of the same operation, and that both the deceased, Rodriguez, and the individuals taken into custody were all involved in the supply of a street drug known as “Krokodil”.’
‘Exactly, Chase.’ Karina reclaimed the baton at that point, cutting away from the studio to the warehouse shot and explaining to viewers what Krok was and its gruesome effects
on users. But Nikki was no longer listening. Instead she was glued to the images on her screen of Haddon Defoe, still in his pajamas, being led out to a squad car, stony-faced but unresisting.
‘It does look at this point as if the police are closing in on a high-level ring of corruption and possibly money-laundering relating to the supply and sale of Krokodil. Interestingly, we’re also getting reports of some connection between these arrests and the Charlotte Clancy case of maybe ten years ago. D’you remember that case, Karina?’ Chase asked.
Charlotte’s name brought Nikki’s focus back to the report.
‘I sure do,’ his colleague nodded sagely, no doubt having just been fed the information on autocue. ‘Charlotte was an au pair from San Diego who went missing in Mexico City. Now exactly how Monday’s victims might fit into this complex picture remains unclear, Chase,’ Karina added helpfully. ‘But we’ll keep you updated as soon as we know more.’
Nikki hit the ‘off’ button and stared at the ceiling.
It was all about the ring.
Williams’ ring.