Foreseen in Murder: Lessons in Murder, book 9, page 19
Jenna nodded soberly while Jamison snuck a few photos of his hands. “And do you get along well with your superiors and co-workers?” Jenna asked.
“Reasonably well, considering,” he answered in a grumble. “What does that have to do with my wife’s accident?”
“Considering what?” Jamison asked, presenting him with a sympathetic expression.
“Look, I want to take my wife home now. Where’s Ben? Where’s my little boy?”
“Mr. Pratt, the doctor has admitted Leilani and is keeping her in the hospital for a few days. She sustained serious injuries and may have internal bleeding,” Jenna explained. “You won’t be taking her home.”
“You can’t,” he began, his face reddening. “They can’t do that. I have rights.”
“Yes, sir,” Jenna confirmed. “And so does your wife. The hospital staff also has a responsibility to order and prescribe the most appropriate care for their patients. You didn’t check your wife in; therefore, you can’t check her out. Do you want her to die from a ruptured kidney?”
He wiped a nervous hand down his face. “No, of course not. She just doesn’t like hospitals. She’ll be more comfortable at home.”
“How did you get those scrapes and bruises on your fingers?” Jenna asked pointedly.
He glowered at her and stuffed his hand into his jacket pocket. “Changing a tire, as if it’s any of your business.”
“In order to help prove this was an accident, I have to make a report,” Jenna stated in a detached tone. “It would go a long way to closing our investigation if you would provide your DNA.”
“My what?” he snarled. “I didn’t push her down the stairs. I wasn’t even there.”
“Nobody said you did,” Jamison assured him. “But if you’d allow CSI Wilcox take a simple cheek swab—”
“You need a warrant,” he blasted. “And you won’t get one because I didn’t do anything.”
Jenna cocked her head at him curiously. “When did you have a flat tire?”
“What?” he sneered.
“You said you hurt your hands changing a tire. When was this?”
“This morning,” he spat at. “On my way to work. Good thing I left early. Now I demand to see my wife and son!”
Jenna glanced up and down his crisp, clean suit without a wrinkle or spot of dirt. Stepping closer, she met his glare with equal intensity. “That isn’t going to happen, Mr. Pratt. I’m the one in charge here, not you. Your wife has been placed in protective custody and an officer is on his way to stand guard at her hospital door. Nobody is allowed in her room other than hospital personnel until this matter has been resolved.”
“You mean until you arrest me,” he snarled, “which you can’t do without evidence and you don’t have any. If my wife said she fell, then she fell. God, what’s wrong with you people?”
Jenna raised a brow and propped her hands on her hips. “You can’t stand having a woman in a position of authority, can you?”
She perceived the desire in his gaze, the rage that had sent Leilani to the ER. Something set him off and he laid into her with both face and body punches. Then, when she was writhing in pain, moaning on the floor, he left for work, figuring she’d still be lying there when he got back. He hadn’t counted on little Ben calling for help.
Wrinkles formed around his eyes, and a derisive laugh escaped him. “It’s not going to work, stupid bitch. You want me to hit you so you can claim assaulting a police officer, maybe get a DNA sample another way, but…” Fritz held up his palms and stepped back. “I know my rights and I’m onto your games, so I’m going to turn around and leave now. My wife will be coming home to me in a few days, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
He curled his lip at her, spun around, and stomped out.
“Damn,” Jenna swore under her breath, and rubbed the back of her neck. “I thought I had him for a minute there.”
“If it helps, I recorded the whole exchange,” Jamison said. “I can’t guarantee the camera was at an ideal angle, but—”
Jenna huffed out a laugh, threw one arm around Trish, and pulled her into a side hug. “Brilliant! Thanks. That will help you get the warrant we need for his arrest. Still, it would have been better if he’d hit me.”
“When did you call for a uniform?” Wilcox asked.
“Right now.” Jenna took out her phone and made the call.
With an officer on the way, Jenna turned to Wilcox. “Get anything you can from her clothes and your swabs ASAP. Jamison is going to need something to get a judge to sign off on a warrant for his DNA. We need probable cause. If you find blood that doesn’t match hers, at least we can type it quickly and hope it will be enough. I want to nail that smug S.O.B. Go ahead and get started and Jamison and I will wait on her guard.”
“Sure thing. I can’t wait to testify in court against him,” Wilcox added with assurance before exiting the ER.
“I don’t understand it,” Jenna said quietly to Jamison as they stood in the corner and waited. “I don’t understand why women stay with them, especially with a kid to worry about. ‘I don’t want to lose the apartment’,” she mimicked and pulled at her hair.
“It seemed to me he kind of had her brainwashed into thinking she was nothing without him,” Trisha noticed. “A lot of women suffer from low self-esteem and the controlling types can spot them. Here’s someone I can play carrot and stick with—poor on the charm with flowers and kisses, tell them how no one will ever love them like I do, separate them from family and friends, pour on guilt for a mistake, convince them how unworthy they are, and then have their way with them. I doubt women like Leilani want to be weak; they’ve just been conditioned by society or their upbringing that their lives don’t matter. So when a guy like Fritz comes along and says I love you, they fear no one else ever will. They convince themselves they deserved to be punished or that it’s worth putting up with to get all the benefits.”
“Benefits?” Jenna gave Jamison a sarcastic expression.
“Not everyone has the skill or drive or stubbornness to build a successful life out of nothing, Jenna. You’re pretty rare that way.”
Jenna relaxed her posture and lowered her chin. “I had help—still do. We all need help sometimes. I wish Leilani would understand that.”
“Maybe she will,” Jamison said optimistically. “Maybe this experience will wake her up. At least your sister seems to be getting on track.”
“Yeah.” Jenna thought about the similarities. Angie hadn’t let an abusive boyfriend knock her around—that she knew about, anyway—but she had allowed drugs to control her and beat her up plenty. It had also been a lack of self-worth at the root of it all. Jenna wondered what happened in Leilani’s past to make her give away her power, and what it would take for her to reclaim it.
25.
After returning from the hospital, Jamison got to work composing a warrant request for Frtiz Pratt’s DNA, hopefully leading to one for his arrest. Jenna wanted to lock him up now, which is why she’d goaded him to hit her, but she knew without Leilani’s testimony she had nothing to hold him, and she didn’t want to get him more enraged than he already was. Keeping a uniform on Leilani’s door, along with hospital security, should be sufficient. Now she found herself completely immersed in trying to keep two women alive. At least Rhiannon was cooperating.
Stepping behind Bauman, hunched over his keyboard plonking at the keys, she asked in a hush, “Progress?”
He jumped, then peered over his shoulder and nudged his glasses. “Some. Do you want to see?”
“Yeah.” Jenna pulled a chair over and squeezed in beside him. At his workstation were personal items—a few action figures, a math award, a family photo, and the first small painting Mario had given him hung on the wall by his computer. On his screen sprawled comment boxes with little icons and usernames.
“This hosting site is called ‘NotaFan’ and I started in a lobby where people can create a chatroom or join one already there,” he explained. “I found this sub-chat for psychics. Everyone commenting here has a beef with them in general or with certain individuals.”
Jenna started reading aloud. “RighteousWrath says, ‘Mediums are real. The Bible talks about King Saul’s great sin of visiting the Witch of Endor to contact the prophet Samuel’s spirit on the other side to seek his help. Samuel’s spirit shows up, rebukes Saul, says he’s going to die, and then he was killed in the battle. So, there are genuine mediums who can converse with the dead, they’re just evil.’ Then Dorothy responds, ‘Evil should be stamped out, even if it looks like a harmless old lady.’”
Jenna shot a glance at Ethan. “These people are hardcore.”
“There’s more.” Ethan scrolled down. “Avenger05 makes a lot of posts and in this conversation he/she/they—but my bet is on ‘he’. Sorry my gender causes most of the problems of the world, even though the majority would be quick to blame women. Anyway, he’s in an escalating exchange with Actionman24.”
Jenna looked over it silently to save time.
Avenger05: I don’t care what RighteousWrath says, they’re all frauds and deceivers intent on bilking naïve folks and the elderly out of their money. One of those bitches convinced my grandma to give her thousands of dollars.
Actionman24: They’re liars, all right, and worse. One of those who does palms and cards convinced my sister that the next man to ask her out would be her soulmate and they’d live happily ever after. He’s a drunk who treated her like shit until she finally dumped him.
Avenger05: That sucks. What’d you do about it?
Actionman24: Put her in her place.
Avenger05: How?
Actionman24: Burned her place down.
Avenger05: Cool! I wish I had the guts.
Actionman24: You’ve got this bro. You just have to be smart about it so you don’t get caught.
“Geez,” Jenna uttered. “Have you found where these two are?”
“Actionman24 is in Cleveland, Ohio,” Bauman said. “I have the software running on Avenger05 trying to track him down now.”
“There’s no way to know if Actionman really burned down a psychic’s place of business or made it up to impress Avenger, and if he did, it could have happened years ago,” Jenna said in frustration. “I mean, you probably go on sci-fi and fantasy sites to talk to other gee—fans about conventions and movies and stuff. Don’t they embellish? And dating sites. Everyone posts a younger, thinner photo—if they even post one of themselves—and make up things to sound more fun and attractive than they are.”
“True,” Bauman agreed. “But we can’t rule out the possibility these people are committing crimes either. Now, over here,” he said, clicking a few screens, “we have Avenger 05 chatting with Nonbeliever62, and check out where this goes.”
Avenger05: I’m so angry I could spit nails! This freak is taking all my grandma’s money, and she just doesn’t see it. The bitch has her brainwashed and is bleeding her dry.
Nonbeliever62: They are all thieves, plain and simple. My brother had a string of bad luck, and this one f-ing fraud convinced him he was cursed and only she could cure him. Then, after he forked out a small fortune for the special “ingredients” for his charm, she claimed he had to come back once a month to have it “recharged.”
Avenger05: Shit, man; what did you do?
Nonbeliever62: First I tried to reason with Tom, but when he wouldn’t listen, I went to the woman’s house, broke in, killed her cat, and left her a death threat. She never called my brother again. Sometimes you just have to put the fear of God into them. The cops won’t do nothing.
Avenger05: I’d do that too, but my Grandma lives way off in Louisiana, and I can’t just go down there and take her money back from the swindling, lying bitch. She claims to be a medium, says only she can pass messages back and forth with my dead grandpa in the spirit world. Grandma goes to see her every week to the tune of $500 a pop. She’s on Social Security for Christ’s sake!
Nonbeliever62: They’re sucking the life out of folks we love. But you know, even if you can’t get to that one, I’m sure there’s one near where you live. We should chase them all out of town. Those folks in Salem back whenever it was had the right idea.
Avenger05: Maybe I can do something about it. Got to run. TTYL
“Find out where Avenger and Nonbeliever are,” Jenna said urgently. “It sounds like they’ll go after anyone.”
“Like you said, it could be all bluster. Ah ha!” A box in the corner of Bauman’s screen displayed the words “search complete.” He clicked it and informed Jenna, “Avenger05 is showing as being in Roanoke. I’ll have to refine the search to pin down an address. We still don’t have a name, but—”
“I’m betting he’ll be a young, average-sized guy with a leafy oak hunting jacket,” Jenna supplied. “Nice work Bauman. Now find him.”
***
Randi skipped going to her dojo after school to spend time with Angie, but she at least got a workout with her at her home gym. Angie told her she’d been good and only ate the prescribed spring mix, chopped apple, and walnut salad with avocado-peanut-butter toast for lunch, earning her praise.
“I went online and started researchin’ medical-adjacent careers,” she told Randi while they sipped watermelon water after their workout. Bandit had accepted her and purred contentment as she scratched his head. Byron lay on his rug, his muzzle between his paws, with a lonely expression conveying his desire to be the one getting the attention.
“I know I couldn’t go to college for a nursin’ degree, and well …” She blew air between her lips, causing them to vibrate. “I sure won’t be any kind of doctor. But there are other things.”
“Tell me what you found.” Although Randi was acquainted with every conceivable career associated with hospitals, she pretended Angie was now the expert on the subject.
“There’s a practical nurse,” she began. “It only requires a two-year degree, but still not doable. I need somethin’ now. Orderly, nurses’ aid, various technicians who run the machines, and home health care. A lot of people who don’t want their elderly loved one put in a nursing home pay for like a babysitter to stay with them while they’re at work to watch over and help them out. It wouldn’t fit Ms. Rhiannon’s vision of me pushin’ the stretcher, though.”
“True,” Randi said with a nod and sucked through her straw. Even though she put the watermelon slices through the blender, there were still little strings in it. She pondered how to make it better next time.
“Then there’s those phlebotomists, the ones who draw the blood, you know?” She slurped from her glass and swung her foot from over her crossed leg, barely missing hitting the coffee table and stubbing a toe. “But I don’t think I’d like that. People hate havin’ their blood drawn and if I didn’t get the needle just right, they’d be mad at me. I’m supposed to save people’s lives, not make ‘em mad at me.”
Randi was surprised she had taken Rhiannon’s foresight so seriously, yet here she was, trying to find a niche where she could make a big difference without it requiring any higher education.
“Then there’s a 911 operator. I can answer the phone and take down folks’ information, but this site said it’s a high-stress job and sometimes I can’t understand people with foreign accents. And again, no pushing the gurney.”
“Have you thought about being an EMT?” Randi suggested. “You could drive an ambulance and take the hurt people to the hospital. You’d wheel them into the ER, so it would mesh with the prediction.”
“Yeah, but what if I do somethin’ wrong and the patient dies?” Angie gave her a worried expression and bit her bottom lip.
Randi shrugged. “What else have you been up to?”
“Oh, I played ball with Byron—man, he can do that all day!” she laughed. “And I read a lot of the pamphlets and stuff Dr. Grayson gave me and completed the first lesson in the workbook. It’s really gonna make me think and pay attention to myself. No more autopilot.”
“Nope.” Randi smiled at her. “Sounds like you’ve had a productive day. Want to add to it by helping me prepare dinner for when Jenna gets home?”
“Sure!” She bounded up, and the two played around in the kitchen for half an hour. The meal was almost ready when Jenna walked in.
“What smells so delicious when we’re stuck eating detox food?” Jenna called out as she hung her coat on its hook.
“That’s Randi’s chicken and veggie soup,” Angie answered. “And I made the spinach and cucumber salad with bean sprouts and vinaigrette dressin’.”
“Wow, now I have two women cooking for me! Aren’t I the luckiest gal in town?”
Randi greeted Jenna with a kiss, glad to see her in a better mood. “Did you catch a bad guy today?”
“Not yet, but we’re making progress. How about you, Angie? Progress?”
With soup, salad, and water on the table, the three settled down to eat and talk.
“Yeah,” she said. “I’ve been readin’ all the what-to-do booklets and lookin’ up careers. Randi suggested EMT, but I don’t know if I can.”
Jenna blew on her spoonful of soup and sampled it. It warmed Randi’s heart to see the pleased expression of tastebud delight spread across her face. “Fess up,” Jenna directed. “Have you ever been arrested?”
“No,” Angie replied, “which is pretty miraculous if you think about it. Vince gets in a few fights and has to go to jail. I do drugs for sixteen years and nadda.”
“DUI?” Jenna quizzed.
Angie shook her head while she munched her salad.
“Points on your driver’s license?”
“I’ve had a few speedin’ tickets over the years and always scraped together the fine money, but still—”
“What about a GED?” Jenna queried.
“The first time I went to rehab, they ran a GED program for the non-graduates,” she said. “I passed the test with like the lowest score possible, so yeah; I have my GED. But Jenna, I’ve been thinkin’ about this all day, and I believed Rhiannon’s prediction about my medical job, except.” She set down her fork and spoon and slumped her shoulders. “I don’t think I’m smart enough. I don’t have what it takes.”
