Chapter 3

Bob got to the hospital at three. He had to wait, first because there were questions about HIPAA again. Then he was informed she hadn’t been moved from ICU to her room. The uniformed policemen had been replaced by two US Marshals, who wanted to throw their weight around, telling him he wasn’t authorized access to the protectee. He’d brought his contract with him and showed them the paragraph that stated, quite clearly that should the US Marshal’s Service assign her protection, he would “play a pivotal role in the protection plan or their services would be declined.” While they were faxing that to their headquarters and generally dithering, Lacey was moved into her room.

Eventually the two USMS guards were told to give him accompanied access until the situation could be further clarified with the protectee.

When he finally got to see her, she was awake, but still disoriented. Her skin looked like ash and she was too weak to do more than lift a hand in recognition of him.

“Hey,” he said, softly. “How you doing?”

“Turrble,” she said, moving her lips fractionally. “Wha happen?”

“You were poisoned,” he said. “It was in the water in the pitcher on your table.”

She blinked.

“You tole me nah drin,” she sighed.

“I know. I guess you forgot.”

“Shit.”

It was the first word she’d said clearly. It was also the first off color word he’d ever heard her utter.

“Don’t worry about it. We got you to the hospital and they’re fixing you up.”

Her eyes ranged around the room and fell on the US Marshal who was “accompanying” Bob.

“Who?”

“He’s a Marshal,” said Bob. “I guess your request for protection finally got approved.”

“Fuckers,” she muttered. Bob blinked. Two curse words in less than a minute.

“They don’t think I should be here,” said Bob.

She rolled her head toward the Marshal. It was obvious it took all her strength to do so.

The man stepped closer and said, “I’m Deputy Jenkins, Ma’am. We’re going to take good care of you.”

She moved her lips, but what she said couldn’t be heard.

Jenkins leaned closer, putting his ear next to her mouth.

“Bob is in charge,” she whispered.

He leaned back, startled.

“I’ll inform my superiors,” he said.

“Good.” All it was, was her mouthing the word. She was obviously exhausted.

“We’ll let you rest,” said Bob. “Don’t worry. Either they or I will be here all the time. He’s right. We’re going to take good care of you.”

She mouthed, “Good,” one more time and closed her eyes.

Deputy and hired gun left together.

“I told her you guys wouldn’t want to work with me,” said Bob, standing in the hallway.

“It’s not that we don’t want to. There just isn’t any precedent,” said the other man, who had introduced himself as Deputy Thomas.

“She asked you guys for protection and didn’t get it. Since then there have been two attempts on her life.”

“We didn’t know about the first one,” said Deputy Jenkins, his voice accusatory.

“Would you have jumped right on it if she said some guy with a knife came at her, but was chased away?”

“Probably not,” admitted Jenkins. “But we’re here now, and we’re trained to do this. Are you?”

“I’m trained to identify threats and eliminate them,” said Bob. “I was very good at it until I got shot up in a firefight.”

“Military?”

“Special forces and Delta Force,” said Bob. He wasn’t used to telling people about his military past. When he’d been in those positions, he never told anybody about it. Even now he knew he wasn’t supposed to tell anybody what he’d done, or where he’d done it.

“We don’t normally go in with guns blazing,” said Thomas.

“I don’t either, unless I have to,” said Bob, patiently. “The point is that they’ve tried twice, and I’m pretty sure they’re going to keep trying. I am not inclined to cut them any slack in the matter. You guys can arrest them if you want to, but if I see anybody trying to kill her, I’m going to eliminate the threat.”

“And what happens if you eliminate the wrong threat?” asked Jenkins.

“There’s no such thing as a ‘wrong threat’,” said Bob, “but I get what you’re saying. I plan to be on the interior. That means anybody who gets to where I am will have gotten through you guys first. If they did that, then they’re not good guys, and I will consider them a clear and present danger to the health and safety of my client. Fair enough?”

“I think that’s workable,” said Jenkins. “We’ll handle exterior security, and have a man inside with you. That way any of us who want to come inside will be known to him, and there will be two of you to handle anything that gets past us. Not that I expect that to happen, of course. But I think my superiors will buy off on that.”

“You have your superiors come talk to Lacey,” said Bob. “She’s the one calling the shots, here.”

“I don’t think it will come to that,” said Jenkins.

“I hope not,” said Bob. “We have enough problems already.”

It took Lacey three weeks to recover enough that they were willing to release her to continue her rehabilitation at home. During that time the trial was in recess. Bob had no contact with the officers of the court, though Detective Cooper did. It was because of what Cooper told Judge Gardner that he decided not to ask for a new prosecutor. First of all, having a new AUSA assigned would delay the case longer than the month Lacey was expected to be in recovery. Second, he felt a little guilty at having shut down her security man when he tried to alert the court to his suspicions about the water. He was irate that the sanctity of his courtroom had been violated in such a manner. Dozens of people had seen the mystery woman who had waltzed into the courtroom as if she was supposed to be there. But nobody knew who she was, where she came from, or where she went. As happens frequently in bureaucratic situations, if someone acts like they are supposed to be there, others accept them at face value.

So he simply recessed the trial. He had to charge the delay to someone and, while it might be overturned on appeal, he decided that the facts and circumstances justified blaming the delay on the defense. When Ronald Summers objected strenuously, the judge pointed out that his water had not been contaminated and that both the pitchers and glasses had been brought in from outside.

“Whether it was intentional on the part of the defense or not, the only party who benefitted from this was the defense. So I am charging the delay to the defense.”

Summers’ complaint abated. It didn’t really cost him anything.

In fact, it earned him more in fees.

And, of course, while his client denied it, Summers, like everybody else in the system, knew on whose behalf this vile act had been perpetrated.

At the hospital, Lacey wasn’t able to feed herself for the first week. She was on an IV drip, which helped replace fluids she’d lost during her initial treatment. She didn’t know it, but that initial treatment had involved almost continuous enemas in an attempt to cleanse her digestive tract of the bacteria she’d ingested.

She lost twelve pounds that first week. When they began to offer her food, and she was too weak to feed herself, Bob spoon-fed her at her bedside. He spent as much time with her as he could without falling asleep and their relationship became much less formal as a result. Her appearance, that first week, was reflected not in Bob’s eyes, but in those of the agents who guarded her. They did not engage in such mundane pursuits as feeding her, but they did check in on her and chat with her from time to time. It was what she saw on their faces that told her how bad she looked.

That Bob never reflected that meant more to her than he could know. And then there was the fact that he had saved her life ... again.

It was her reaction to him on that plane that caused her one day, when his hand happened to be resting on the covers near her hip, to lift her hand and place it on top of his. It was merely her acknowledgement of the fact that he obviously cared about her, but it was something more too, something she’d never experienced with a man before.

It was, in fact, the most intimate thing she’d ever done to or with a man she was not related to in some way.

The second week she was able to sit up and feed herself. She sat with her legs hanging over the edge of the bed and was able to stand long enough to sit in a wheel chair while her sheets were changed. She asked if there was a way to wash her hair, but the nurses demurred. She did get a sponge bath every other day.

The third week she took a few halting steps, first supported by nurses, but then later, by Bob as she walked around the room. Her strength improved rapidly, though she had no endurance, and had to rest often. She chafed at the restrictions she was under, but finally got to wash her hair. Bob brought her one of her robes, too, and her own slippers, which made her feel better.

She’d been in the hospital for twenty-four days when she was able to take a shower unassisted and walk all the way around the circular third floor hallways. It was then that Dr. Masterson said she could go home.

He told her not to go to work for another two or three weeks.

The USMS detail that had been assigned to Lacey while she was in the hospital went home with her. Their superiors deemed that four were enough to provide her with adequate security, both at home and when she returned to work. One deputy was inside the house with her at all times. Another took care of external security. The shifts were twelve hours on, and twelve hours off for two weeks. Then those four had a week off while four more gave them some relief. Bob, of course, lived there, and was “on duty” twenty-four hours a day.

Since Lacey’s windows were barred, and considered unlikely entry points for an invader, the inside deputy was posted in the short hallway between her front door and the living room. The outside deputy stayed in the main building entry, just past the stairwell that led to the second floor. There were four apartments in the building, two upstairs, and two down, with a small basement that contained a washer, dryer, and caged storage for the tenants’ boxes, bicycles, and so on. The agents were in radio contact with each other.

When she finally got back into her own home, the atmosphere was much different than it had been before she was poisoned. Perhaps because her hair had been down in the hospital, she left it down when she got home. More importantly, Bob checked on her a lot, including when she was in her bedroom. Neither of them thought that was really a departure from the norm. He’d spent three weeks with her in what amounted to her bedroom at the hospital. Nor did she feel shy about him seeing her in the nightgown she wore constantly for the first day or two she was back home. Bob, after all, had seen her daily in her hospital gown, which was much more revealing than her cotton nightgown. Bob sat in a chair outside her bathroom the first couple of times she took a shower, but when she had no trouble with that, he busied himself elsewhere in the apartment while she was attending to her personal hygiene.

Another thing that might have impacted their relationship was that the inside USMS guard normally had very little to do with Lacey, directly. Bob made sure that man had something to eat and drink. The two agents swapped places every two hours, both to break the monotony and so each had access to a bathroom regularly. The men used the half bath between Lacey’s room and Bob’s room. Lacey had her own bathroom, which was accessed directly from her bedroom. But the result was that, with nothing to do in terms of work, Lacey spent almost all her time with Bob. They chatted about everything under the sun. She told him about her childhood, and what little information she had about how she’d come to be adopted and what she’d found out about her biological father having been sent to prison for killing her biological mother. She’d never seen the man since he was released from prison, and had no idea where he was, or even if he was alive or dead.

Bob responded to her supply of intimate details with some from his own life. He didn’t go into the operations he’d been on in more than very general terms. He stayed with the missions in which they had taken supplies, equipment, and arms somewhere, to support various groups, and the rescue missions he’d been on. He didn’t tell her about the times he’d killed insurgents, terrorists, or just plain criminals in the line of duty.

Several times they talked, her in bed and him sitting beside her, until she fell asleep.

Now that there were more people around to protect Lacey, Bob was able to go shopping on his own. Prior to this, he and his boss had always gone places together. Like many bodyguards, he knew a lot more about her tastes than the casual observer might have realized.

“I’m going grocery shopping,” he announced one day. “Anybody want anything?”

He was speaking to Lionel Young, one of the agents on duty at the time. He saw Young lift his radio handset to his lips and speak softly.

“Dick is making you a list,” he said to Bob after listening for a few seconds. He was referring to his partner, Deputy Richard Hooker, who was in the main hallway of the brownstone. Hooker, who always said, “I prefer Richard,” when being introduced, was invariably called Dick by his compatriots. Some juvenile, male drive made them insist on associating “Dick” with his last name.

Bob picked up the list on his way out. Dick was seated in a chair that gave him an unobstructed view of the entryway and both downstairs apartment doors. The short staircase leading to the basement laundry room was behind him. The other tenants had adapted to having armed lawmen in the building with astonishing ease. One of the upstairs apartments was occupied by a young man and his wife, both of whom worked on Wall Street. The other upstairs tenant was a woman in her fifties, named Elaine. She was a receptionist at a doctor’s office. Downstairs, across the hall from Lacey, lived an older man named Maurice Towner, who was a bell boy at a hotel in Manhattan. He wasn’t on a first name basis with the men he saw each time he came and went, but he nodded amiably. All the tenants knew who Lacey was. They read the papers. They were all New Yorkers, and having the US Marshals Service in the building was something they just took in stride.

Bob chose a big box department store to do his shopping at because he had a couple of things in mind other than groceries, and he didn’t want to have to hunt for them on the streets of New York City. It meant a longer drive, but he didn’t care. He’d been cooped up in either the hospital room or the apartment for weeks, and getting out on the road felt good.

He did his “extra” shopping first. That list started with two new robes and one nightgown for Lacey. Then he spent a few minutes standing in front of a bewildering display of nail polish. The names of the colors delighted him, though they meant nothing whatsoever in terms of actual color. He chose “Feminine Flower” because of the name alone. The fact that it was a subdued lavender shade also seemed appropriate. Finally, he selected a number of different kinds of things that were designed to control and help style a woman’s hair. The only makeup he had any knowledge of was the camouflage variety, and the commercial pastes that many operators used as a base under the green, brown, and black streaks, so that it would come off when you wanted it to. He decided not to try getting her any makeup. If he could get her to use the nail polish, that would be a resounding success, in his mind.

When he got back home he dropped off a pint of chocolate milk to Lionel, who was on outside duty at the time, and went in to give Dick his order and put away the rest of the groceries. Lacey appeared from her bedroom and helped him.

“What’s all this?” she asked, when she opened the bag with the clothing items in it.

“You only have one nightgown,” said Bob. “I thought you might like to be able to change things up now and then. So I got you a new nightgown and two new robes.”

She pulled the garments out of the bag and held them up to look at. The robes came out first. One was midnight blue, with gold trimmings. The other was forest green with cuffs, collar, and belt that were light brown. Both only came to just below her knees when she held them up against her body. She thought of them as decadent, but at the same time beautiful. She wondered what her mother would have said if she’d seen them. She blinked and swallowed. She didn’t have to wonder. Her mother would have said they were a sinful, extravagant waste of money. The nightgown was long and white, like her cotton one, but it was much lighter. In places the fabric was smooth, shiny, and unbroken. The bodice had a pattern worked into the material that made it look lacy, but it wasn’t see-through, like lace. It went from neck to ankles, like her old one. That too was classified as decadent, but beautiful.

She decided that, since she hadn’t bought them, and that they were a gift, she would accept them. And she would wear them!

“I was thinking about getting dressed,” she said. “But I’m going to go put one of these on instead!” Her voice sounded like she had decided to climb a smallish mountain rather than go for a short walk.

While she was gone Bob put the rest of the groceries away and pocketed the nail polish.

She returned wearing the blue robe.