Compromised, page 1
part #6 of Stephanie Chalice Series
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.
Published by Kindle Press, Seattle, 2015
A Kindle Scout selection
Amazon, the Amazon logo, Kindle Scout, and Kindle Press are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
For the insatiably curious
Acknowledgment
The author gratefully acknowledges the following special person for her contribution to this book.
As always, for my wife, Isabella, for nurturing each and every new book as if it were a newborn child, and for her love and support.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Chapter Seventy
Chapter Seventy-One
Chapter Seventy-Two
Chapter Seventy-Three
Chapter Seventy-Four
Chapter Seventy-Five
Chapter Seventy-Six
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Chapter Seventy-Eight
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Chapter Eighty
Chapter Eighty-One
Chapter Eighty-Two
Chapter Eighty-Three
Chapter Eighty-Four
Chapter Eighty-Five
Chapter Eighty-Six
Chapter Eight-Seven
In the Stephanie Chalice Thriller Series
About The Author
Chapter One
I stared down at my corpse and it stared back at me, two cold and lifeless eyes that would have otherwise been fixed on the funeral home ceiling had I not intersected their gaze. Dead Stephanie Chalice was wearing a navy blue dress, one that was customarily trotted out of the closet for occasions like confirmations, christenings, and baptisms. I instantly recognized the silk charmeuse fabric and the ruffle that cascaded from the shoulder to the waist. My husband, Gus, was, or should I say had been, a big fan of frenzied undress, and I’d often found myself in states of being partially undone after recovering from bouts of spirited spontaneous sex. Ha! I think this may be the first time I’ve ever been horizontal in that one. Hey, I’m laughing about this. Why?
There were no visible clues to the cause of death. No bruises or contusions, puncture marks or . . . If I’d taken a beating, the mortician certainly did a great job of covering up any discoloration and marks. I guess I could’ve died of natural causes, but then again, when a thirty-year-old homicide detective takes a dirt nap . . .
Suspicious.
So how did I end up dead?
In most cases, cops fall when they’ve lost their edge, when they’ve underestimated a perp or the danger of a situation, or when there was a distraction or the cop was otherwise compromised. Most of us NYPD types are pretty savvy and don’t just walk toward the grim reaper with our arms spread wide open.
How’d you screw up, jackass? You left behind a son and a husband. Speaking of which, there’s the handsome devil now, but . . . Christ, he looks like hell. Gus usually looked dapper, but today his suit hung limply from his broad shoulders. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy, and his face looked strained and tired.
How’d I get here, Gus? How’d I end up in a box?
He used to be my partner, but tying the knot put an end to that. My new partner was green—green as in wet behind the ears, and green as in by the book—but he was a good kid and didn’t mind taking direction. Does Yana know what happened to me, Gus? Was he there when I bought the farm? Did you talk to him? Did he tell you how it went down?
Gus remained silent while he stared at me lying in the casket. He looked despondent, his head bowed as if the weight of the world were pressing down upon it.
I suddenly felt hollowness in the pit of my stomach. An icy chill began in my arms and ran through me. Oh my God, this is for real. Dummy! Risk taker! What in God’s name did you do?
I tried searching my mind for the details of my death, but my thinking was fuzzy and I was unable to string my thoughts together. Think, damn it. What is wrong with you? Are you on drugs? What is it? Why can’t you remember?
“Oh my God.”
Who said that? I felt someone take hold of my hand. My eyelids fluttered. Bright light caused my eyes to water. I heard someone gasp.
“Come on, Stephanie. Come on back to us.”
That’s Gus. It has to be, but . . . come back from where? I was no longer looking down at my corpse. White billowy clouds surrounded me, and I felt as if I were floating upon them.
He pleaded, “Wake up. Please wake up.”
Gus, where are you? I looked all around, but there was no one in view. It seemed that I was completely alone.
Someone stroked me lightly on the cheek. “Ms. Chalice, can you hear me? It’s Dr. Efram. Your husband is here with me. Can you open your eyes?”
My eyes are open, but there’s no one here. I began to feel anxious, but then a drop of water fell on my cheek and I gradually understood that I needed to transition out of a very deep and all-encompassing sleep. I opened my eyes, this time for real. Gus was standing over me. He was crying. His eyes were red, and his jaw was tightly clenched. I touched my cheek and realized that he had woken me with a solitary tear, pulled me back from the abyss in which I’d been lost.
“Oh, thank God!” Gus put his hands on the sides of my face and kissed me long and hard. When he pulled away, I could see that he was worked up and seemed to be emotionally exhausted.
I was completely disoriented and had no idea where we were. “What’s wrong with you, Gus?”
He smiled as tears continued to roll down his cheeks. Then he pressed his lips to mine and kissed me again. He sighed and looked toward heaven. “Thank you, God. Thank you.”
A doctor turned to Gus and politely stated, “I need a moment with the patient.”
Gus pointed at the doorway. “Do I have to . . .” he asked reluctantly.
“No. Just give me a little room,” the doctor replied. “You can stay here.”
Gus stepped back, giving the doctor the room he needed. “I’ll be right here, Stephanie,” he said in a reassuring voice. “I’ll be right here in the room with you.”
Gee, clingy much? Uneasy, insecure Gus was causing me to worry.
The doctor held up a small flashlight and checked each of my eyes. “Good,” he said in a professional tone.
“What’s good?” I asked.
“Fundus on each side appears to be normal.”
What the hell is a fundus? It finally dawned on me that I was lying in a hospital bed, but so much unexplained activity was going on around me that I still felt confused. “What is going on here?”
“You were out for quite some time,” the doctor advised and held up his finger. “Please follow my finger.” He began moving it around without offering further explanation. I followed it with my eyes. Again he said, “Good.”
“Out for quite some time?” I turned to Gus. “Babe, what am I missing?”
I saw his jaw tighten again, but he didn’t reply.
> “You were unconscious,” the doctor said. “I’m glad you finally came back to us.”
Finally came back to us? “Was that ever in doubt? Gus? For the love of God, what happened? What’s going on?”
“Just another moment,” Dr. Efram said before Gus could answer. “Stick out your tongue.”
If you insist.
The doctor issued instructions in rapid succession, and I followed along. “Touch your nose. Touch my finger. Touch your nose . . .” and on and on. He felt my face and tested my hearing with a tuning fork. “You seem neurologically sound. I’ll call a neurologist for a consult and arrange for further testing, but for the moment . . .”
“For the moment what?” Gus asked anxiously.
Dr. Efram smiled warmly. “For the moment, feel free to kiss your wife again, and again and again if you wish.”
Gus willingly obliged.
It was wonderful to feel his warm lips pressed against mine, but I just couldn’t stand not knowing what had happened. “When did I get here? Can someone please tell me what the hell happened?”
Dr. Efram had an expectant look on his face. “We were hoping you’d be able to tell us, Detective Chalice.”
My eyes opened wide. “Me?” I strained to remember what had happened that might have put me in the hospital, but there just weren’t any recent memories. I knew who I was and what I did, but the latest events . . . I shrugged and felt my facial muscles stiffen. I felt as if I was going to cry.
Dr. Efram must have sensed that I was emotional. “It’s all right,” he said. “Cry if you feel you need to. It’s not uncommon to feel sad or disoriented after awakening from a coma.”
“What? Did you say that I was in a coma?”
Gus sniffled. “You were out for five days, Stephanie. We were worried that—” He stopped midsentence and turned away. I saw his chest rise steeply and then fall before he turned back to me, fighting tears. “I’m just so happy you’re all right.”
“But why can’t I remember anything, and why won’t you tell me what’s happened?”
It looked as if Dr. Efram was about to speak, but he stopped when he saw me reach for the back of my head. I could tell that my head was heavily bandaged, and I felt a sharp twinge where I touched it. I held out my hands imploringly. “Gus?” I could see that he was unable to speak, and in the next instant he covered his eyes and bawled like a child.
Chapter Two
Gus was chased out of the room, then doctors and nurses paraded in one after another, all eager to have a crack at me, pinching, poking, prodding, squeezing, testing, and annoying me to death.
Five days? Gus’s words ran through my mind over and over again. Dr. Efram had subsequently explained that I’d been brought in by ambulance on Monday evening, and it was now late Saturday afternoon. Five days. Dear God. No wonder Gus is such a basket case. I can’t imagine what he must be going through. I can’t believe I haven’t seen my little baby boy, Max, in five days. Jesus. A tear popped out of my eye. I shook my head while the medical staff tested me like a lab rat. I had been unconscious five full days. Still, the question remained: What happened?
More than an hour passed before the hospital staff finished their initial examination and Gus was allowed back into the room. He looked better when I saw him again—or maybe relieved was the word. Folded blankets and a pillow rested on the recliner near the window. It didn’t take a detective to figure out that Gus had slept by my side all week long.
“How’s your back?” I asked him.
He seemed surprised by my question. “My back? You’ve been unconscious for days and you’re worried about my back?”
“Well, I mean, sure. You slept in a chair all week, didn’t you?”
He nodded.
“That spine of yours is probably twisted up like a pretzel.”
Gus shrugged, but his expression was buoyant. He didn’t answer my question but instead sat down alongside me on the bed, leaned over, and hugged me with his cheek pressed firmly against mine. “Thank God,” he whispered.
“You’re smothering me, you big lug.” I pushed him away good-humoredly. “Enough with the melodrama already. What does a girl have to do to get a straight answer?” I winked a sultry wink. “And by the way, sailor, I’ll do just about anything to get what I want.”
“We don’t have any answers.” He looked into my eyes lovingly. “I don’t have any.”
“Well, what do you have for me? Tell me something, will you? Tell me something before I go completely insane.”
“You don’t remember anything?”
“I already went through this with the doctors. My mind is blank. They think it’s probably confusion as a result of the weeklong snooze.”
“Maybe.”
“What does that mean?” I asked unhappily.
Gus wore a rare awkward expression on his face. “You may have amnesia, babe. Dr. Efram said it’s not uncommon in cases of severe head trauma.”
I touched the thick bandage on the back of my head. “This, huh?”
“It appears that you were slugged with a blunt object and that you have a severe concussion. Your brain really swelled up, and we were afraid . . .” His hand went to his mouth, but he removed it after a moment. “The point is that you’re all right. I called Ma to let her know you’re awake. She’ll come down to the hospital as soon as I get back to watch Max.”
“But what about Yana? He doesn’t know what happened?”
Gus cringed. I could see by his expression that something was terribly wrong. As mentioned, Tadashi Yanagisawa had been my partner for about a year, ever since Gus and I had gotten married. It was a violation of department policy for husband and wife to work together as a team.
“Gus, what happened?”
He shook his head with despair. “I’m sorry, Steph. Yana . . .” He looked away and drew a deep breath. “Yana didn’t make it.”
“Oh my God.” I strained to remember what had happened, but there was a wide and jagged rift in my memory. Yana didn’t make it? I gasped, filling my lungs with air, and tears began to run down my cheeks. “Gus, what are you talking about? Is Yana dead?”
Gus nodded. “I’m so sorry.”
I grabbed a tissue as the horror of my partner’s death washed over me. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to force my memory to return, but it just wasn’t there. The damn thing just wasn’t there. “What the hell happened? The last thing I remember is . . .”
I had a vague recollection of that Monday, the day that I was admitted into the hospital. I remembered rushing around the apartment that morning, getting Max ready for the day, and Ma hitting me with one of her requisite zingers as soon as she walked through the door to babysit. It was something about me never having Max ready for her on time. I remember that she had laid into me pretty good, going on and on about how I never went to bed at a reasonable hour and how I was going to run myself into the ground. She was always full of motherly advice and complaints about me not listening to any of her sage wisdom.
“What do you and Gus do all night?” she’d asked.
“Duh!”
“All night? Is he Superman or something? My God, the two of you must be insatiable.”
“Well, not all night, but we can hardly play hide the salami before the little one goes lights out for the night, now can we?”
“Hide the salami? That’s disgusting. I’m going to wash your mouth out with soap. I’m still your mother.”
I snickered. “I’m well aware,” I’d said and gave her a peck on the cheek.
I recalled feeling that familiar pang I always got when I kissed Max good-bye before leaving for work.
Fast-forward a bit and I vaguely remembered that Yana and I had spent the day questioning relevant parties on the Serafina Ramirez homicide case, but when it came to the specific interviews, and the sequence of the day’s events . . . I looked out the window and could sense that I wore a vacant expression on my face. “Christ,” I barked. “What’s wrong with me? I can’t remember anything.”
“You will,” Gus assured me. “You’ve been in a coma all week. Give it a little time to let the cobwebs clear.”
“I know, but . . . shit.” I felt a frown pulling at the muscles in my face. “Jesus. I can’t believe that Yana’s dead.”
Gus leaned forward and put his arms around me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tell you so soon, but I knew you’d ask.”
“I want to remember so badly, but it’s just not there. It’s as if my head is empty.”
