ON Edge Page 7

  I didn’t move.

  “You look surprised.”

  “You have a kid. Are you married too?” I sounded accusatory. Or was there envy in my voice?

  “Two kids. Daughter is eight, son is twelve. And yes, a woman does exist in this world who would marry this ugly dude,” he said, pointing at his face.

  “I thought it must have been due to your delightful demeanor.”

  He shook his head. “I realize you may not see it right now because it’s your own father, but white-collar crime is a major issue in this country. We’re cracking down.”

  I wasn’t about to debate this topic. I started moving around him when he said, “So, do you have kids?”

  I stopped, turned, and looked at him.

  “I’m just asking because you’re married and all.” He pointed at my hand. I looked down and saw the ring Nicole had put on my finger a few months earlier.

  “No. I don’t have any kids.”

  “Not yet, huh? Still in that honeymoon period?”

  “You guessed it. We can’t keep our hands off each other.”

  I turned on the heel of my loafer and headed for the hospital room, hoping to put as much distance as possible between me and Bowser. What the hell kind of name is “Bowser,” anyway?

  I passed the nurses’ station and gave a quick wave to one nurse leaning over her computer. Otherwise, the space was vacant. They were probably in a breakroom arguing over who got to eat the last piece of cake.

  Man, I was snarky today. I took in a deep breath and tried to find a place that wouldn’t piss off everyone with whom I’d interact. It wasn’t their fault my life had disintegrated in the last day.

  I hung a left at the end of the hallway and stopped as if I’d just reached the edge of a cliff with a thousand-foot drop. All the nurses and doctors had that look of doom. Two nurses were wiping sweat off their brows while talking outside of Dad’s room. Inside, I saw two doctors and another nurse. They were moving slowly, shaking their heads. Tobin was cradling his face in his hand. “I can’t believe he’s gone,” he said.

  I jogged the last few feet into the room. “Tobin!”

  A doctor moved just as I entered the room. My eyes went to the bed. I first saw the ventilator in Dad’s mouth. His eyes were shut. He wasn’t moving. Not even his chest.

  “Dad!” I moved to the bed as emotion filled my eyes.

  The cardiologist shifted out of the way. “I’m so sorry, Ozzie. It happened suddenly.”

  I touched his hand. Cold. I turned back to Tobin and tried to speak, but for a moment there was no air to push from my lungs. “What…what the hell happened?”

  He opened his mouth and shook his head. “When I got here, I thought he was sleeping. Then he didn’t wake up, and I called for the nurse.”

  My eyes shot to each person in the room. “How did he die?”

  “It appears to be a massive heart attack. As you might recall, we warned that this might happen.”

  “But you never said it would happen this quickly. You said surgery wasn’t needed, only that he had to follow his cardiac rehabilitation.”

  She looked down and clasped her hands in front of her. “Sometimes I hate this job, because it’s so unpredictable. Human bodies, unfortunately, aren’t computer programs. Everyone responds differently to the stress and environment they’re in. Unfortunately, I think your dad’s heart just didn’t have anything left. I’m very sorry.”

  I took another glance at Dad, as if someone might be playing a horrible joke on me. The man who normally never stopped talking was lifeless.

  Before I could swallow back more emotion, Tobin grabbed me by the neck. At first it felt odd. He’d never really hugged me before. Well, not since he was about three years old. I reciprocated the hug.

  “He’s gone, Oz,” he said, thumping my back. “I can’t believe it. I don’t want to believe it.”

  A moment later, we stepped into the hallway. Bowser walked up, his eyes shifting from me to the window into Dad’s room, and then to the doctor. And then Arie came around the corner. He immediately grabbed the wall and shook his head. “It’s not supposed to happen like this. Your dad was going to outlive us all.”

  I felt lightheaded and cold, as if all of my blood had been drained from my body. People were talking to me, offering condolences, but my thoughts were all over the place. I turned and saw more people going into Dad’s room.

  Nothing seemed right. I knew, even in the moment, that most people in my position probably felt the same. That instant tear at my heart, that sudden loss of emotional balance. And the abrupt ending with Nicole was like putting an accelerant on a smoldering fire. The weight of so many emotions was choking off my oxygen.

  But then I mentally pulled back, at least for a few seconds. All the questions from the last twenty-four hours converged into a moment of clarity. Right, wrong, or indifferent, I had to go with my gut.

  I yelled, “Everyone out of my father’s room. Now!”

  12

  At my insistence, the hospital staff called the police. Some might say I was in denial or looking to place the blame on someone. Maybe I was, but there was at least a part of me that believed Dad’s death to be too much of a coincidence.

  “Why are you doing this, bro?” Tobin asked, sipping a coffee as we stood in a spare room two down from Dad’s. “I mean, what the hell do you think happened? The doctors said it was a massive heart attack. And we know the reputation of this hospital is stellar.”

  I looked between the blinds out across the city. I could see the state capitol and the new high-rise condominium buildings behind it. So many cars and people everywhere. College kids, people working government jobs. Nothing stopped, not even for a death. People died every day, but when it was one of your own, it seemed like there should be something different about how the world responded. There wasn’t.

  “Dad has been involved in some high-profile cases,” I said.

  “Oz, I know about the charges. I was right here.”

  Right.

  “Do you know anything else?” he asked.

  Tobin was trustworthy as far as I knew, but that didn’t mean I felt comfortable sharing my deepest thoughts and theories. “No. Dad died before he told me what was really going on. Which is why I don’t want to look back and wish we’d allowed the cops to work the crime scene.”

  Tobin let loose an exasperated breath. “Dude, I just think you’re bitter or feeling guilty or something. I mean, this is kind of ridiculous.”

  I wasn’t in the mood to argue. “I’d say you can leave, but I bet the detective will want to ask you some questions.”

  “Yeah, okay. Whatever.”

  He’d just whatever’d me. I looked in the hallway and saw Agent Bowser talking to Arie—only their profiles, so I couldn’t read their lips. But if I hadn’t known better, I would have thought they were casually discussing Agent Bowser joining the new opening in Arie’s golf foursome.

  Two uniformed officers walked by, followed by a person from the crime scene investigation unit. I snapped open the top of my Diet Coke can, took a sip, and started to turn back to the window.

  A second later, Tobin was waving his hand in front of my face, then pointing to the door, where I saw a striking redhead standing there. She had a badge on the belt loop of her black khakis.

  “Ozzie Novak?”

  I nodded and walked toward her.

  “Detective Pressler, SA…uh, Austin Police.”

  The “SA” thing threw me off for a second. I shook her hand and introduced my brother. “You’re the one,” she said to Tobin, “who found your father this morning. Apparently…” She checked some notes on her phone. She wore not an ounce of makeup, her skin buttery smooth. “Yeah, the nurse had checked his vitals about one hour before you got here.”

  “I guess so,” Tobin said, his voice subdued.

  “Sorry to jump right into it.” She turned to the door. “Thanks,” she told a cop who handed her a coffee. She slurped in a mouthf
ul, closing her eyes for a moment. “Do your magic,” she said quietly.

  I noticed dark circles under her green eyes. Maybe her night had been like mine. A lot of drinking and not enough sleep.

  “I appreciate you coming out this morning. It may not seem like a felony took place, but I have my concerns,” I said.

  “We need to talk,” she said, pointing a finger at me. “I’m first going to talk to your brother. Alone.”

  “Got it.” I gave her a salute and walked toward the door.

  Someone shouted my name. I turned around and realized it was Tobin. “What?”

  “She was talking to you,” he said.

  “That’s okay,” she said, obviously unaware that my hearing was less than stellar. “I know you, both of you, must be upset right now. I was just mentioning that I never went to sleep last night.”

  Damn, she was the party animal. “Okay.”

  “I’ve been working another murder on the south side since just after midnight. Two other detectives called in sick, so I get the extra work. That’s okay. I’m the newbie, so I have to earn some respect.”

  I nodded. “You’re a rookie detective?”

  “I meant just new to Austin. Before that I worked for the San Antonio Police Department. That’s why I said—”

  “SA.”

  “Right. I’ll grab you in a moment.”

  I found a quiet spot in the hallway where I could watch the police do their work in Dad’s room and still stay away from the fray. I became restless and found myself pacing in front of a TV in a quasi-reception area, while drinking my Diet Coke. An older guy was sitting there reading a magazine, occasionally looking up at the TV, which was tuned to a repeat of the University of Texas women’s basketball game. It was hard to blink in Austin and not see something related to UT or the state government.

  I was trying to lose myself in the game when someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was Bowser. “You a big fan of the Lady Longhorns?”

  “Eh.”

  A moment passed, and he seemed like he was growing roots. He crossed his arms and appeared to study the game. I was only hoping he’d give me some space. “My daughter’s into basketball big time.”

  “Oh yeah?” I sounded like I didn’t care, because I didn’t.

  Another few seconds of awkward silence. It was starting to annoy me. Just as I was about to ask for some space, he said, “Are you wondering if this is going away now that…you know?”

  “Honestly, I haven’t gotten that far. Still just trying to take it all in.”

  “Oh, I figured that’s why you called the cops. You know, just to make sure nothing crazy had gone down.”

  Did I just hear him correctly? “So you think I’m justified in thinking someone could have killed my father?”

  He shrugged. “Not sure I have the authority to release all of the details contained in the sealed warrant.”

  I pointed at him and came very close to poking the federal agent in the chest, which, of course would have likely led to my arrest. “You seem to be implying that someone might have had justification for killing my dad.”

  The old guy with the magazine looked our way. Bowser signaled with his head to follow him toward the vending machines. He pulled out a dollar bill and inserted it into the machine; then he punched the C8 button. He pulled a package of pretzels from the bin, opened them, and took a bite.

  “Your dad isn’t…uh, wasn’t the main focus of our investigation.” He kept his voice low, and every few seconds, he looked over my shoulder. “But, to show you some good faith, I’ll tell you something.”

  “Go on.” I drained the last of my canned drink and tossed it into a recycling container, not once taking my eyes off Bowser.

  “We don’t know who exactly your dad was working for.”

  “That’s an odd thing to say.” I let his words marinate. And then like a crack of thunder, my mind flickered with a new thought. “Wait, did you use these charges against my dad to draw out the person he was working for?”

  For the first time since I’d met Bowser, he looked like he was trying to pass a gallstone.

  “I’m right, aren’t I?” My voice had some steel behind it.

  “I told you too much, dammit. But I’ll say this…those are legit charges.”

  “But that doesn’t mean you didn’t use my dad to get to this unknown person.”

  “Look, the assistant US attorney is probably going to have my ass for sharing this much. Once they take ownership of a case, they tend to take complete ownership. But no one ordered me to use your dad as bait. That much I know.”

  “I need to know all the details behind the charges.”

  “That I can’t tell you.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Might as well be the same thing.”

  “You’re full of shit. In fact, you probably thought this discussion, by essentially teasing me about my dad’s connection to this ghost, would get me to tell you something you don’t know, or maybe lead you to this person. In fact, you might think that I’m a part of it, and you just didn’t have any evidence on me.”

  He stopped chewing pretzels for just a second, then he picked back up again. “You’re looking at this all wrong. This isn’t some big conspiracy to get you to talk. If I thought you had any connection to this character, you think I would have shared what I did? I’d be fired before I could say ‘FBI.’”

  I flipped around, watched a few officers milling around my dad’s room. I turned my head toward Bowser. “I’m surprised the FBI didn’t conduct their own investigation of my dad’s death.”

  “I asked Detective Pressler to keep us in the loop. She said she’d comply. Professional courtesy and all.”

  I watched her finish up with my brother and then give me a nod.

  “Let me know when you or someone in the federal government can explain what’s really going on. Professional courtesy and all.”

  I left him standing there and walked over to meet with the detective.

  13

  Pressler finished speaking with a male officer from the APD—she covered her mouth for most of the conversation—then joined me in the hospital room, shutting the door behind her.

  “Has your team found something?”

  “What?” she responded, almost distracted. She let out a yawn, which she tried to contain, and then said, “I’m sorry. Can’t seem to find my second wind.”

  I sighed, or was it more like a huff? It was difficult to hide my annoyance with anyone who wasn’t on their A game right now. I spelled it out for her. “I asked if your team found any evidence that my father might have been murdered as opposed to dying of natural causes.”

  She pressed her lips together. She seemed to sense my irritation. “The team has just about finished up in the room. They’ve taken prints off everything possible. I’ve had two officers interview each of the nurses and doctors. I’m going to follow up with the lead cardiologist myself and review the timeline of events with her. We’ll also make sure the ME does an autopsy. I’ll put a rush on it. So, we’re doing all we can do right now.”

  My eyes were drawn to the window. I saw two men carting away a covered body on a gurney. My father.

  “I realize this has to be difficult for you,” she said. “I’ve been around the families of a number of victims, and it didn’t matter how they died. It can be very stressful.”

  She had no idea. My legs had been chopped off at the knees by Nicole, and that was to be considered the most jovial part of the last day. The raid at the office, the sealed warrant for Dad, his first heart attack, the subsequent visits by the two women in his life, a night of no sleep after having no access to my money, learning from Arie that Dad had no intention of giving me even a piece of the firm that had my name on it… then, on the cusp of having to watch him booked on extortion and obstruction charges, he dies. Natural causes or murder? Oh, and how could I forget the tease from the FBI dog, Bowser, saying, ostensibly, that Dad wasn’t their real targe
t? I still didn’t know what to think of that.

  “I’m assuming your wife is on the way and can help you deal with the grief.”

  I used my thumb to push the wedding ring up a bit. “I guess I’m still married—technically, anyway.”

  “Oh. I…uh, didn’t know.”

  I huffed out a laugh, but there was no happiness behind it. “No one knows. She dumped me yesterday while I was standing in Dad’s room.”

  Her eyes suddenly seemed puffier as they narrowed into slits so tiny I could barely see her emerald eyes. “She asked you for a divorce in your father’s hospital room, as you’re going through that crisis?”

  “Not really.”

  “Good. I was thinking—”

  “She never bothered to come to the hospital. She did it all through a text.”

  The detective looked like she’d taken a bite of a nail sandwich. “I don’t know what to say. I thought my ex was ruthless.”

  I nodded. “Recent?”

  “Just went final in the last month, which is another reason why I moved to Austin.”

  “What’s the first reason?”

  “To take care of my mom. It’s like being twenty again and having a college roommate.” Her tone was laced with sarcasm.

  This time, my laughter was legitimate. I brought a hand to my mouth. “I don’t mean to be insensitive.”

  “Laughing helps, even if someone is kind of laughing at your situation.”

  I received a text and took a moment to read the message. It was from Mom.

  Your brother and I have spoken. I don’t want to go to the hospital again. I need your help planning the funeral. I hope you won’t let me down.

  “That was very warm and touching,” I said as I showed her the text. “My mom.”

  The detective pressed her lips together. “Glad you’re getting support from somewhere.”

  “Now I’m the one using sarcasm to cope. My mom has issues.”