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  Chapter 2

  Marcus was sitting at his desk in the police station, going over his notes for tonight’s assignment. He paused and laid the pen on the desk. He hated doing what he considered a housekeeping chore . . . adding notes to a couple of his other case files. He worked in the Bureau of Investigative Services Division. He had about one hour or so before he and the squad would leave the station for a surveillance assignment.

  He glanced at the clock. It was nearly one o’clock in the morning, and Marcus assumed Monet was home by now. He picked up the telephone to call her, and then put it back inside the cradle. He knew his wife had to be tired. She had been putting in a lot of overtime hours since last month, due to one of the nurses retiring. The Human Resources Department of the hospital wasn’t having much luck finding a replacement.

  Marcus ran his hand over his head, rubbed his eyes, and resumed writing. He would rather be on the streets protecting the citizens of Chicago.

  He weighed two hundred thirty pounds, and his body was all muscle, like cut marble. His tall height, along with an inch long scar on his left cheek, remnant of a burglary call gone awry, put fear in most lawbreakers when they came face-to-face with Detective Caldwell. Being a police officer for over twenty years, he’d seen the good, bad and ugly in people. His demeanor was one of seriousness, except when he was around Monet. Then he let his guard down. He loved God first, and then his wife more than life itself.

  Bruce, one of Marcus’s fellow officers strolled over to his desk and asked him, “Hey, man, did you hear there was some trouble at St. Bernard’s Hospital awhile ago? The call came in about half an hour ago. One of the nurses was hurt. Isn’t that where your wife works?”

  Marcus’s breathing became labored. He felt as though he was experiencing an anxiety attack. “Uh, yeah, that’s where Monet works. But she got off over an hour ago, so I’m sure she’s okay.” He tried to ignore the SOS signs that somersaulted across his mind.

  Bruce held up his hands. “I was just checking to see if you’d heard the news. We have a preparation meeting in fifteen minutes. I’ll see you there.”

  “Yeah, I’ll see you later.” Marcus was disturbed by the news Bruce had given him. He picked up the telephone and called his house. The phone rang and rang until the answering machine came on. “Nay-Nay, if you’re there, pick up.” He waited for his wife to pick up. He glanced at his watch, noting that it was almost time for him to go into the meeting. He hung up and dialed his wife’s cell phone number. The call was connected, and he could hear breathing on the line. “Nay-Nay, are you there?” he asked as his hands began trembling uncontrollably.

  A threatening snicker greeted Marcus’s ear. He held the phone away from his ear, and then put it back. “Who is this? Where is my wife?” he asked frantically, rising from the chair so abruptly it nearly toppled over.

  The man on the telephone laughed aloud, and then disconnected the call.

  Marcus sprinted rapidly out of the room to the area that logged incoming calls. He looked almost unbalanced as he shouted at the clerk, “Louise, did you receive a call from St. Bernard Hospital?”

  Louise looked at Marcus and was so taken aback by his expression that her mouth drooped fearfully. She barely recognized him; he had a scowl on his face and held his body rigidly. “Yeah, a call came in,” she looked down and typed on her PC, “about forty-five minutes ago. Why? How come you got a bee in your bonnet?”

  “What else did the hospital say, Louise? My wife works there, and I can’t reach her.” Marcus made an effort not to yell at the older woman. The vein in his head throbbed uncontrollably.

  Louise’s heart palpitated rapidly. “Oh Lord. They said a woman was assaulted. Smitty went over to investigate the call and take a report. I’m sorry, Marc. I hope your wife is okay. Maybe she got tied up in traffic or something.” Her voice trailed off sympathetically.

  “Did the hospital say anything about the woman’s condition? Was she conscious when they brought her in?” Marcus asked fearfully. He felt lightheaded, like he was hyperventilating. He tried to take a couple of deep breaths.

  “No, they didn’t say. I’m sorry, I didn’t ask.” Louise prayed silently, Lord, please don’t let the victim be Monet Caldwell. I think Marcus would go crazy.

  “Okay, Lou, I’m going over to St. Bernard’s Hospital to see what’s up.” Marcus rushed back to his desk, picked up his briefcase from the floor, and locked his desk.

  The chief of police stood in front of Marcus’s desk. “Where are you going?” Chief Walter Davis asked with a concerned look on his face.

  “I don’t have time to explain everything now, but I need to get over to St. Bernard’s Hospital. I think the woman who was assaulted was Monet.” Marcus’s deep bass voice trembled.

  “What makes you think the woman is Monet?” Walter asked.

  “Because I called her cell phone and a man answered. I can’t stop and talk right now, sir.” Marcus snapped shut the two locks on his briefcase. The sound was abrupt, and the noise caused Marcus to flinch. He began walking rapidly, almost running toward the door. “I’ll call you later and fill you in.”

  “Okay, Marc, be careful. I hope things work out for the best for you and Monet,” Walter said.

  “Thank you.” A grimace marred Marcus’s face. He exhaled loudly, “I hope so too.”

  He practically ran down the hallway, his stride was so brisk. He heard his partner, Wade, call his name and turned to look down the hallway.

  Wade jogged over to him. “The chief thought I should come with you just in case the victim is Monet,” he said.

  “Let’s go then,” Marcus replied, and the men battled the wind as they walked to the parking lot. They got inside an older model brown Crown Victoria and sped away.

  During the short drive to the hospital, Marcus’s heart shied away from the possibility that Monet could be the victim at St. Bernard’s. But his logical, orderly mind knew the woman in the hospital was probably Monet.

  Wade was fifty years old, five years Marcus’s senior. He was an inch taller than his wife, Liz, and his cinnamon colored face projected a kindly demeanor. He was medium in build and put God first in his life, followed by Liz, his children, family and friends. Wade could be depended on to be level headed in a crisis, which is why he drove himself and Marcus to the hospital. He kept glancing worriedly at his partner.

  “You okay, man?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I can’t imagine anything happening to Monet. She’s my life, man,” Marcus replied.

  “I know what you mean. Shoot, I feel the same way about Liz and my kids. The kids drive me crazy sometimes, but I’d still lay down my life for them. But you know, man, if the victim is Monet, you two will get through this situation. You know the Lord doesn’t put more on us than we can bear.”

  Marcus shook his head from side to side sadly. “In my head, I know you’re right. But why would a loving God allow this to happen to Monet? You know my baby; she wouldn’t hurt a fly. She’d try to shoo one out the door or window before she’d kill it. I don’t know if I can take it if Monet is hurt badly.”

  “You’ll be okay, Marc. Just trust in God. Plus, we don’t know that Monet was hurt yet, so we could be jumping the gun.” Wade tried to calm his partner.

  “Wade, I called Nay-Nay’s cell phone,” Marcus looked troubled, and his voice dropped, “and a man answered. He actually laughed and hung up. If I had any hopes about Monet not being the victim, they were thwarted when I heard that voice. Man, that voice is in my head. It’s like he’s laughing and pleased about what he did.”

  “Don’t let him get to you, Marc. You know how those types are. The good thing is the cell phone has a GPS system, so maybe we can get a handle on him. Let’s just hope he keeps her cell phone a little longer.” Secretly Wade agreed with Marcus’s assessment of the situation, but thought he needed to encourage his friend for what lay ahead when they arrived at the hospital.

  “If he hurt Monet, then I want to hurt him back
,” Marcus confessed as he peered out the window. “I want him to suffer like she’s suffering.”

  “Naw, man, you can’t do that. Vengeance is mine, said the Lord. Let God and the courts take care of this matter, and everything will work out. You’ll need your strength to take care of Monet if she’s hurt. As soon as we get to the hospital, I’m going to go see Smitty and tell him about Monet’s cell phone; it could be a promising lead. Don’t be foolish, Marc; let the people best equipped for these situations do what they have to do,” Wade said.

  When they arrived at the hospital, Wade pulled the car in front of the emergency room entrance and said to Marcus, “I know you’re eager to see what’s going on, but before we go in, I want to say a quick prayer.”

  “Go ahead, make it quick,” Marcus replied tight lipped.

  Wade turned off the car and bowed his head. “Father, we come to you, asking that you take care of Monet and Marcus. If Monet is hurt, Lord, heal her body like I know you can. Give Marcus wisdom to do the right thing, and leave the legalities to the proper authorities. We know that your way isn’t easy at times, but we can take comfort in knowing that you promised never to leave us. And I know that you won’t. I ask this blessing in Jesus’ name. Amen.”

  He glanced over at Marcus, who sat in the car brushing tears away from his eyes. “Aw, come on, Marc, everything’s going to be all right. We’ve been with each other through some tough times, and if Monet is hurt, then no doubt it’s going to be one of the toughest experiences you’ve ever faced. But I got your back, and you know Liz is with me. We’ll help both of you get through this; I promise,” Wade said sincerely.

  Marcus tried to stifle a sob. “I don’t know if I can take it if something has happened to Monet. You and I know what women who’ve been assaulted look like and the mental anguish they go through afterward. It’s one thing when it happens to a stranger, but another thing when it’s your wife.” He dropped his head in his hands, and his shoulders shook as he cried.

  Wade just sat in the car and waited for his friend and partner to compose himself. He couldn’t argue with Marcus. If Liz were in the hospital bloody and bruised, he didn’t know how he would react. But he hoped that Marcus would turn his burden over to God. After all, He was the only one who could sustain them during this crisis.

  A few minutes elapsed then Marcus wiped his eyes and put his stoic, police business expression back on his face. He turned to Wade and said, “I’m ready, and I hope, like you said, God will see us through this.”

  The two men got out of the car and walked to the entrance of the hospital, uncertain as to what they might find inside. When they walked into the building, Smitty was waiting for them at the front security desk with a grim look on his face. Marcus knew then that Monet had been assaulted.

  Smitty told Marcus the words he’d never hoped to hear, “Marc, I’m sorry. The victim is Monet. Why don’t you go up to see about her while I talk to Wade about what we know and what we’ve done so far?”

  Marcus nodded. He felt desolate and so alone. Just knowing that Monet was hurt made him feel like a vital part of his body was missing.

  “Do you want me to come up with you?” Wade asked Marcus.

  “No, we all know how important it is to process all the information while it’s still fresh in everyone’s minds. I’ll go see Nay-Nay and come back and talk to you later. I take it you’re the lead detective on the case, Smitty?” Marcus said.

  “Yes, that’s correct. I promise to do whatever I can to find out who’s responsible for hurting your wife, and bring the perp to justice,” Smitty said.

  Marcus nodded, thinking, If you don’t find him, you better believe that I will. “I’ll be back later,” he said to Smitty. He turned and walked to the nurse’s station in the emergency room. Lord, let her be okay, and I will make it all right myself. Take care of my wife, he prayed.

  Chapter 3

  Monet coughed and opened a swollen, blackened eye. Then she opened her other eye and looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings. Suddenly her memory kicked in about what had happened, and she screamed through puffy lips as she tried to sit upright in the bed. Marcus burst into the room from the hallway and ran to her side. He attempted to take his bruised and battered wife into his arms, but she cowered and pushed Marcus away from her body with failing arms. Then she collapsed back onto the bed from pain. Marcus stood helplessly, with his arms dangling by his sides. He reached out to touch Monet again, his hand brushing the top of her head.

  His voice cracked as he said, “Babe, it’s me, Marcus. You’ve been hurt, and you’re in the hospital. They’re going to take care of you.”

  Monet looked over at Marcus with deadened eyes. She tried to moisten her cracked lips, but cringed from the pain. She raised a hand and felt her lips. “My God, what happened to me?” Her eyes traveled over her body.

  Monet’s primary care physician, Dr. Washington, who worked at St. Bernard, walked in the room, and Jean, a nurse, followed her. The women went over to the bed. Dr. Washington bent over Monet and said, “I’m glad to see that you’ve regained consciousness. We know you suffered a mild concussion. The good news is that you came to on your own.”

  Monet looked at the doctor blankly, like she didn’t have a clue as to what she was talking about. Then she turned over in the bed and faced the wall.

  Dr. Washington, a tall, regal looking African American woman said to Marcus, “Can I talk to you outside for a minute?” Marcus glanced over at Monet and nodded. The nurse checked Monet while Marcus and the doctor left the room and stood in the hallway. “I know how distressful this must be to you, Mr. Caldwell. Trust me when I say we’ll do our best to help Monet. She’s one of our own,” Dr. Washington stated.

  “I know she was beaten, that’s obvious. Please tell me that my wife wasn’t violated,” Marcus begged. His heart felt like it was breaking. It was one thing to see people injured; that was normal for him in his line of work. But it was excruciating to see the aftermath of a crime perpetrated against a loved one. He wasn’t handling the situation well from an emotional standpoint.

  His wife had been beaten and God knows what else, and life just seemed to go on as usual. He could hear the buzz from other patients in cubicles waiting to see a doctor. How could God allow life to just go on? Marcus had a hard time dealing with that.

  “Mr. Caldwell, I’m sorry, but from our preliminary exam, it appears Monet was sexually assaulted,” Dr. Washington said sorrowfully.

  “How could that happen?” Marcus’s voice rose. “I know the hospital isn’t in the best area in the city, but you have security guards and cameras. Did anyone see anything?”

  Dr. Washington shook her head. “The security camera in the parking lot was malfunctioning, so we don’t have anything on tape. Dave, the security guard, is beside himself with grief. He offered to escort Monet to her car, but she refused.”

  “My God, can’t you guys do anything right? You mean all of this could’ve been prevented if the security guard had done his job? I have a mind to sue this hospital.” Marcus voice rained thunder on the doctor.

  “Mr. Caldwell, I am so sorry. Maybe Monet got a good look at the man, and she’ll be able to help the police identify him. Everyone loves Monet here at the hospital. She’s one of the best nurses in the maternity ward. Believe me, we’ll do anything we can to help her.” Dr. Washington’s hand tugged nervously on the stethoscope hanging around her neck.

  “Did you at least run tests for STDs and AIDS?” Marcus asked, as his stomach somersaulted inside his body.

  “Yes we did, and we’ve put a rush on them so we can get the results ASAP. We should have them today by noon,” Dr. Washington answered. Her heart went out to Marcus. She could only imagine what he must be feeling.

  “Monet looked so banged up. Does she have any internal injuries?” Marcus asked.

  Dr. Washington shook her head. “We know that she suffered a concussion. One of her arms was wretched out of the socket, and we had to reset it. Her
body is bruised, but most of the assault was to her face, and the swelling should subside as the week goes on.”

  “Okay, I’m going back to stay with Monet.” Marcus turned away from the doctor. His hollowed checks seemed pinched with anguish as he returned to the room.

  Dr. Washington walked to the nurses’ station. She instructed one of the nurse’s aides to stay on the laboratory until Monet’s test results were available, and to bring them to her immediately. She shook her head sadly as she peered toward Monet’s cubicle.

  “Also, call central registration and make sure a room is ready for Monet. We need to move her to a regular room since she’s conscious,” Dr. Washington said.

  “Will do,” the nurse stated. “It’s a shame what happened to Monet. No one is safe anywhere, even at work.”

  “Just make the calls,” Dr. Washington instructed. She picked up a chart and walked to the next cubicle to handle the next emergency.

  Marcus sat in the chair next to Monet’s bed. He took her hand and she tried to resist, but he kept holding it until she stopped struggling. She turned and looked at Marcus. Her swollen eyes spilled tears.

  “Marcus, I’m so sorry,” she choked out.

  “Babe, you have nothing to be sorry about. What happened isn’t your fault,” he reassured her gently.

  “Dave offered to walk me to my car, and I said no.” Monet’s voice crumbled with agony.

  “You had no way of knowing that a degenerate was lurking outside, just waiting for someone to prey upon.” Marcus tried to console his wife.

  Monet began sobbing loudly. The sounds were raspy and ugly. Marcus hopped out of the chair and sat on the bed next to her. He pulled her into his arms, and they cried together. After they had released some of the horror they were feeling, the couple looked up to see an orderly walking into the cubicle pushing a wheelchair.