Bonus Episode 16

Spencer opened his eyes, uncertain what time it was. Checked his cell, 3:30 am. There was muffled conversation in the hall…someone talking to Moseley…a hyped-up voice like somebody on coke. Moseley wasn’t saying much.

“What a fucking day,” the voice said. “You meet all kinds. Some people are great…respect what you do. Others treat you like shit. Hell, you know all that. Cops meet weirdos on the street 24/7, right?”

“Uh huh,” Moseley said. “What time are you off duty?”

“8:00…man, I’m gonna sleep all day.”

“How long is your shift?” Moseley asked. “Seems like It’s a long time.”

“Yeah, I love to work. Overtime’s the only way to make a buck.”

“What union you belong to?” Moseley sounded interested, skeptical.

“Uh…Hospital Trades.”

“But which union? My aunt works at Long Island College Hospital. I know some of them.” He sounded suspicious. What the other guy said didn’t add up. Spencer was suddenly frightened. What if the guy was a nut case, or connected to his uncle. His upper-body cast suddenly felt like lead. He reached for the grab bar over his head and struggled to pull himself up. The pain was excruciating. He groaned and the voices stopped in the hall.

Spencer could hear Moseley chair scrape back as he stood up.

“Well, I gotta get back to work,” the other guy said.

“Let’s walk over to the nurses’ station,” Moseley said calmly. “I want to ask them something.”

“Like what?”

Spencer yanked the oxygen tubes from his nose, raised his bed and fumbled with the side rail…he had to be ready just in case.

“I think you’d better come….” Moseley’s voice stopped mid-sentence….followed by a grunt like he’d been punched in the gut. “Spencer!” He gasped.

As Spencer strained to see, there were staggering steps and Moseley was standing in the doorway, lips moving. “Call the…” but his eyes rolled back and he collapsed in a heap. Behind him, intense eyes were fixed on Spencer.

The orderly stepped over Moseley and entered the cramped room. Spencer screamed for help and pushed his call button… kicked his tray table at the intruder.

The intruder grabbed the table to thrust it aside, but Spencer leaped out of bed, and held it in place. A knife was thrust at him, slashing his cast. Spencer backed away and leaped for the bathroom, slamming the door shut. The intruder seized the handle, but Spencer held it long enough to flip the lock.

Almost instantly there were shouts and screams outside the door. Spencer imagined an army of his uncle’s operatives descending on the hospital…sat cowering on the bathroom floor. He imagined life as a fugitive, fleeing constant attacks…how had things gotten so bad? All he intended was to bring his father’s killer to justice. He never imagined it would result in chaos.

After an eternity, he heard a voice outside. “Where’s Willingham?”

“In here!” He cried, dragging himself up to unlock the door. Detective Ryan was right outside. “Are you okay?”

“Not exactly,” Spencer replied. A nurse stepped in and helped him back to bed…Moseley was on his mind… the horrible stricken face. “Is Moseley alive?” He asked.

“He’s in the ER,” Ryan replied. “It’s a serious wound. We’re praying for him.”

“How did that guy get up here?”

“We’re piecing it all together. He was one of your uncle’s men. When he couldn’t get you, he took off.”

“You couldn’t catch him?”

“No.”

Spencer slumped back and closed his eyes. “How can a lawyer be so hard to catch?” He whispered.

“There’s more to it than we thought,” Ryan admitted. “You’ve heard of Carlos Vasquez-Sagastume, right? He’s been in the news lately.”

“Yeah, isn’t that the guy who met the president or something?”

“Exactly. He visited the White House with the President of Mexico. Owns a big conglomerate, Grupo Sagastume. The visit caused a furor because one of his companies is the largest grower of cocaine poppies.”

“Right, I remember,” Spencer said.

“It turns out he’s a client of your Uncle Dwight’s. They get together every month or so. Your uncle bought a place next to Vasquez-Sagastume in San Miguel, Mexico.”

“No shit? When?”

“About two years ago. Vasquez-Sagastume makes his people and resources available for joint business projects. We’re trying to piece that together. There’s a good chance your uncle’s down in Mexico now.”

“Who was the orderly?”

“We’ll find out soon enough. We’ve got eyewitnesses…and your uncle’s law firm is cooperating. They’re giving the whole scoop on his team.”

“So, how can I keep from getting killed? There’s no way I can avoid my uncle’s guys forever.”

“We’re reviewing the situation carefully,” Ryan said. “No question it’s a challenge, especially with your family situation.. We can’t rule out anything…even a witness protection program…and we’re waiting for input from social services.”

“Why? My mom’s better. She was here yesterday. Why social services?”

Ryan stared down at his shoes, then focused on Spencer. “Look, your mom’s track record is terrible. One day doesn’t prove anything. If you were eighteen, it would be different. The environment in that apartment is terrible.”

“Shit, no matter what I’m fucked. I get shipped to a foster home, or Pocatello, Idaho.”

“Let’s not go there yet. Get some rest and we’ll revisit the whole thing in the next few days.”

“What would happen to mom?”

“She’d be placed in a rehab program.”

Spencer closed his eyes. It was all too much to process.

________________________________

After Ryan left, Spencer pushed his call button, and a surly nurse appeared. “What do you need?”

“The works,” he said, “including a double dose of Ambien.”

“I can only give what’s prescribed,” she said sourly.

“But I can’t sleep on my back. I feel like a turtle.”

“There’s nothing I can do about that. I’ll see what the doctor says.”

“How long will that take?”

The nurse glared at him. “I’ll page him. I have no idea.”

“I got like zero sleep, and now it’s day time.”

“I’m aware of that. Just be patient.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. As the nurse turned, he gave her the finger.

She wheeled angrily. “Young man, I saw that!” Spencer swallowed hard. There was a big framed print opposite the door. “You can be sure I’m going to tell my supervisor what a difficult patient you are.

“Shit!” Spencer whispered. “Look, I’m sorry. My life has been the pits lately. Last night was the third time I’ve been attacked in a week.”

“That’s no excuse for bad behavior.”

____________________________________

An hour later, there was no sign of Ambien, but Spencer was dozing fitfully. There was a tap on his cast, and he opened his eyes to find Michelle leaning over him. “Hi, sweetie. Your mom called and told me what happened. I can’t believe you’re having such a terrible time. I wish I could do something.”

“You ARE doing something. You’re here. Knowing you’re around is a huge deal.”

“Guess what?” Her eyes brightened.

“You won the lottery?”

“No. You’re famous! There are a zillion reporters by the main entrance, News 4, everybody.”

“Why?” Spencer was totally perplexed.

“I stopped to listen. It was cool. They said ‘a dramatic event occurred last night at Brooklyn Hospital. A 15-year-old boy in a cast thwarted an armed attacker who’d stabbed a police officer moments before.’ ”

“No shit. A lot of good it does me.”

“Spencer, it’s amazing. All the news is coming out about what’s going on…that your uncle’s a powerful lawyer tied to the mob, and wants you killed for tracking him down.”

“Whatever. How’s mom?”

“Not great. She was a mess when she called.”

“Is the psychiatrist seeing her?”

“Yes, but even he says there’s so much bad stuff going on, it’s not surprising she can’t deal with it.”

At that moment, a young police officer walked in. “Hi, I’m Officer Dekker…taking over temporarily for Officer Moseley. Can I interrupt a minute?”

“Sure,” Spencer replied. “How’s he doing?”

“The doctors are optimistic. Moseley’s a tough old bird. He was more concerned about you than anything.”

Spencer felt like crying. Moseley was a substitute father. “Maybe they’ll let me go down to see him,” he said.

“He said the same thing,” Dekker explained. “I’m not sure he told you, but he lost a son in a car accident, so protecting you meant a lot.”

“Wow, I didn’t know,” Spencer said.

“There’s another piece of news,” Dekker said. “The perpetrator who attacked you was an associate of your uncle, a guy named Terence Munn, a soldier of fortune of sorts. We identified him based on eye witness accounts, and information from the law firm. We’re learning everything about Munn and think his dealings may lead to valuable information about your uncle.”

“I sure hope you guys make progress,” Spencer said. “I’d hate to end up in some back water town in the rockies.”

“We’re doing our best,” Dekker said. “and now that a drug kingpin is implicated, the FBI has joined the case.”

“That’s great! If my uncle and his thugs are on the run, maybe they won’t give two shits about me.”

“Listen,” Dekker said. “I’ll get outside where I belong and let you kids visit.”

________________________________________

The minute Dekker was gone, Spencer and Michelle kissed. “Shut the door,” he whispered.

Spencer slid his free hand under Michelle’s shirt. Her skin was like velvet. “God, you feel good, but you’re gonna be real late for school.”

“Maybe a little,” she said with smile.

“Tell everybody I miss them, okay?”

“Spencer, you look so miserable in that cast.”

“It’s the pits. I hurt everywhere.”

“Here too?” Michelle worked her fingers over his balls and the root of his cock.

“No…that feels awesome, but I’m so fucking helpless.”

“That’s sort of interesting,” Michelle said stroking him.

Spencer took a deep breath. “God…that’s incredible!”

After a while, she let go and kissed his cheek. “I’m so late…I’ll be back after school to finish, okay?”

“Oh, man, I can’t wait.” He grabbed her hand. “Michelle, I know this past week has been a total nightmare. You won’t get fed up and leave me, will you?”

“You think I’d do that?”

“Not really. Just tell me you won’t.”

She raised her right hand. “Spencer Willingham, I hereby pledge, under oath, that in spite of your cast and crazy life, I will not leave you!”

“That’s music to my ears!”