Not One of Us(71)

“Is he conscious?” Oliver asked by way of greeting.

“He’s in and out,” Officer Granger reported.

“Anyone asked him yet who shot him?”

“Yeah. He’s tried to answer, but we haven’t been able to make out what he’s saying,” Granger answered. “They’ve got him pretty drugged up.”

“What’s his prognosis?” I asked one of the newer cops I hadn’t met before. I avoided speaking with Granger and Dempsey whenever possible. I read the new officer’s name tag: J. B. Lyles.

“Doctors told us it’s seventy to thirty that he’ll make it,” Lyles said. “Luckily, Holt was found shortly after the shooting, and the bullet missed hitting his heart.”

Better odds than I’d feared. The tight knot in my stomach loosened a fraction.

Oliver pushed past the crowd and walked into the ICU unit.

“Hey,” Dempsey said. “No one’s allowed in. Doctor’s orders.”

Oliver didn’t slow his stride or give any indication he’d heard Dempsey’s warning. Without hesitation, I also entered the ICU room.

Holt lay in a raised hospital cot with a myriad of tubes protruding from both arms. A thin line of blood trickled out of a thicker drainage tube inserted into his chest. His skin bore a grayish cast that was obvious even in the slightly darkened room. Buzzes and bleeps from several monitors formed a continuous background cadence.

Holt’s eyes slitted open as we approached his bedside. “About time y’all showed up,” he grumbled.

“Feel like a Mack truck just ran you over, buddy?” Oliver asked, giving his hand a quick squeeze. “Did you see who shot you?”

“Yeah. Listen.” Holt struggled to sit up, then winced and flopped back down on the mattress, casting an uneasy glance at the open doorway. “Shut the door,” he whispered. Despite his lowered voice, the urgency in his request was undeniable, and I was amazed at his ability to converse with us, given his condition.

Holt tightly gripped the blanket’s edge that was pulled up past his waist. “Don’t let them in here. They came in twice already, and I pretended to be out of it. Oliver, promise to get me a cop from Mobile PD to guard my room. Make sure the locals stay away.”

Lines of worry creased Oliver’s forehead. “Is there some reason not to trust the Enigma cops?”

“Damn straight. They’re dirty. The drug ring’s headed by your mayor, and some of the cops are on his payroll. I don’t know how many, but Dempsey and Granger are definitely dirty.”

“Hank Rembert?” I asked doubtfully. “Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

Oliver and I glanced at each other, brows raised at the bombshell. Although Oliver didn’t appear as surprised as me.

“Could it be you aren’t thinking clearly?” Oliver asked. “They must have you pumped with a ton of painkillers.”

“How can you be so surprised?” Holt asked. “I only corroborated what Dana Adair already told you.”

The name jolted me with recognition. Dana Adair, Jori’s estranged friend. “Is this woman your informant?” I asked Oliver and Holt, glancing back and forth between the two men.

“Yeah. And turns out she’s a damn good one. Unless . . .” Holt wiped a hand over his face, and for the first time I noticed a slight tremor in his body. His heart-rate monitor sputtered and then resumed.

“Unless you think she’s behind the shooting?” Oliver asked. “Maybe she had second thoughts and turned on us. Could be the mayor got wind of her passing information and threatened her to set you up.”

“You can never be sure in this business,” Holt conceded, his lungs rattling as he drew a breath.

“Hey, you want the doctor?” I asked.

“No, man. I’m just . . . I’m exhausted. They gave me a shot of morphine thirty minutes ago. I’m tired but can’t sleep with those jokers hanging around my door. For all I know, they might finish the job if they think I’m on to them.”

“I’ll stay here with you until a Mobile cop arrives,” Oliver promised. “Tell me what you remember about the shooting.”

“I was waiting on a delivery. Two guys I didn’t recognize pulled up alongside my car. Before I could react, the guy on the passenger side unrolled his window and shot. My chest exploded. That’s the last thing I remember.”

“What kind of car?” I asked. “Can you describe the men?”

Holt shook his head. “It was dark. All I can tell you is that it was a black truck. The shooter wore a mask.”

Oliver and I exchanged a look. Holt hadn’t given us much to work with.

“We’ll question Dempsey, Granger, and the mayor,” Oliver said.

“No!” Holt’s eyes snapped open. “You do that now, it’ll ruin everything. I have no proof yet, only Dana’s info. We need to set up a sting. They have a shipment coming by boat Sunday.”

“Then there’s no time,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s already Thursday.”

“I’ll be out of here by tonight or in the morning,” Holt assured us. “You move now, we can’t prove shit. We have to catch them in the act.”

“But this Sunday?” I asked, full of skepticism. “That can’t be right. The main activities for our Blessing will be in full swing. Cops and tourists will be everywhere along the waterway.”