Run Girl Run Page 2

  Sitting here, I suddenly missed Jean more than ever.

  “What’s happening to her?” I asked. “Will she be all right?”

  Jean took a deep breath. It was obvious that she was shaken. “She’s in good hands. That much, I know. They took her into surgery right away.”

  “Tell me she’s going to be all right, Jean. I won’t be able to live without her. She’s my everything.”

  “I know, hon,” she said. “I know. They’re doing all they can.”

  The doors to the ER slid open, and my dad stepped inside, looking distressed. My dad, the retired pastor, who was always there for me…who was always there with an encouraging word or ready to step in when I needed someone to look after Camille or my daughter, Josie. He was, in many ways, the rock I leaned on, and I wouldn’t know how to do all this without him by my side.

  “I drove here as fast as I could,” he said and hugged Jean when he saw her. “Any news?”

  “Not yet,” Jean said. “I’ll go check now and keep you posted, okay?”

  “Thank you; you’re an angel,” my dad said, holding Jean’s hands in his. He had always been very fond of Jean, so much so that he was the one who pushed for me to start dating her, even though Camille was lying upstairs in a vegetative state.

  “I told Camille,” he said when Jean was gone. “Before I left.”

  “And?”

  “She seemed upset, but I’m not sure she fully understood.”

  I nodded. Camille was awake, yes, and had been for about a month. It was an answer to our prayers, a miracle even, but she hadn’t been the same since she woke up. She was still unable to control her body and could only be pushed around in a wheelchair. She could barely speak and mostly just said our daughter’s name; that was all, and she struggled to understand what was going on around her and things we told her. The doctor told us it would require lots of rehabilitation, and that we shouldn’t expect her ever to be completely herself again. He also said that her reaction would be different to things, and we couldn’t always count on it. She could be smiling yet be sad without us knowing it because she couldn’t control her reactions the way other people could.

  “She might have understood it,” I said. “But she just couldn’t react the way you thought she would.”

  My dad sighed and put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m sure you’re right, son. I’m sure you’re right.”

  I knew how he felt about Camille. He still believed I should put her in a nursing home, where they’d know how to take proper care of her. I think he still had a hard time forgiving her for doing drugs again, when she had been clean for years, and thereby ruining my life and Josie’s. I was struggling with that part as well if I was completely honest. Even though I didn’t like to admit it since she was the one with the brain injury, she was the one trapped inside of her body. I had hoped to get some answers out of her when she finally woke up, but so far, I knew nothing about what happened or why she had started to do drugs again when we were doing so well together. Our life had been perfect up until that point.

  Why would she risk destroying our family?

  “Here’s the doctor,” my dad said as the door opened, and someone came inside wearing a doctor’s coat. We were the only ones in the waiting room, and the man in the white coat turned to look at us, then approached us with worried eyes.

  The way he looked at me made my stomach churn. It didn’t seem like it was going to be good news.

  Chapter 5

  “Mr. Hunter?”

  “That’s me. How’s she doing, Doctor?”

  “Not good, I’m afraid,” he said. His nametag said, Dr. Scott. He was about half my size and had lips that turned down at the corners, giving the impression of a permanent pout. “She suffered sudden cardiac arrest a second time after she was brought in. We were able to get her stabilized. I’m afraid she has ARVC, a type of inherited Cardiomyopathy. It can cause sudden heart failure, especially in teens and young adults. We were lucky that she was brought in so quickly. In many of these cases, which often occur in young athletes, they don’t make it to the hospital alive.”

  I barely breathed or blinked.

  “Heart failure…but…her heart has always been fine. She’s been running and playing volleyball for years?”

  Doctor Scott sighed and smiled politely. “Unfortunately, it’s the same story that we often hear in these types of cases. Does your family have a history of heart disease?”

  “Not mine, but I don’t know about my wife’s. She has no contact with her family, so we have no way of knowing.”

  “You might want to ask her or have her heart checked as well.”

  I stared at him, not knowing what to tell him. I couldn’t possibly ask Camille about her family history of illness. I mean, I could, but she wouldn’t be able to answer. I felt so lost.

  “But what does this mean?” my dad asked. “Is Josie going to be well?”

  Doctor Scott sighed again. “Not unless she gets a new heart. I’m putting her name on the transplant list, and due to the urgency, she’ll get to the top of the list, but unfortunately, it can take months to find one. I’m not sure she has that long. I’m sorry. I wish I had better news.”

  “Is there nothing else you can do, Doctor?” my dad asked.

  “Normally, I’d say we could try the implantation of a ventricular assist device, a mechanical pump attached directly to the heart. Though the device can provide improved circulation support until a donor heart is found, the surgery would be particularly risky, due to the condition of Josie’s heart. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  “Doctor Scott,” a nurse called when coming through the doors.

  “Listen, we’ll do everything in our power to find your daughter a new heart,” Doctor Scott said, ending the conversation, “but right now, I’m needed elsewhere. You can see her as soon as she wakes up in the ICU, which shouldn’t be too long. The nurses will take you to her.”

  “Thank you, Doctor; thank you for all you’ve done.” I shook the doctor’s hand, and he left. I stared after him, my heart sinking. My daughter had heart failure? How did I not know this till now?

  God, please. Find a heart for Josie. Save her!

  I sat down, feeling heavy, hiding my face between my hands, praying under my breath for a miracle when Jean came out to us.

  “She needs a new heart,” my dad said. “You just missed the doctor.”

  “I know,” Jean said. “I heard.”

  She sat down next to me and placed a warm hand on my shoulder. “I am so sorry, Harry.”

  “He said it could take months to find one, even though she’s so sick that they’ll put her at the top of the list. Is that really true?” my dad asked.

  She nodded with a deep exhale. “I’m afraid so.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t believe it. She survived, and now she might die…because they can’t find a heart?”

  “Many patients die while on the transplant list, I’m afraid.” Jean swallowed. She looked around her briefly, then said. “Listen, we might have one here locally at the hospital.”

  I raised my eyebrows as I lifted my head and looked at her.

  “What do you mean?”

  She grabbed my hand in hers. “Come with me. I’ll show you.”

  Chapter 6

  Jean took us down the hallway to the ICU, then opened the door to one of the rooms. Inside lay a girl, a couple of years younger than Josie, on full life-support. Her eyes were closed, her breathing orchestrated solely by machines.

  “She’s been here for three weeks,” she said. “She’s been declared clinically brain dead by our doctors. She’ll never wake up, they say. There’s no brain activity, and she can’t even breathe on her own, but her heart is working fine.”

  I stared at the young girl, feeling awful. I felt terrible for her; she was nothing but a child. Her parents had to be devastated.

  “What happened to her?”

  “She drowned,” Jean said. “I don’t know all the de
tails, but I do know that they pulled her and her mother out of the harbor three weeks ago. I heard they were in their car. The mother was dead when they pulled them out, but the girl’s heart was still beating, so they brought her in. They don’t know what to do with her since no relatives have claimed her. They can’t shut her off till someone gives their consent.”

  “So, what are you thinking?” I asked. It was strange to look at this girl when my own was fighting for her life as well here in the same hospital.

  Jean gave me a look. “Well, she has a perfectly functioning heart, and Josie needs one, right? She’s the right blood type too. I checked.”

  “Is she a donor?”

  “Not yet.”

  “But you just said that she has no relatives, and they can’t do anything without their consent,” my dad said.

  Jean smiled and tilted her head.

  “She wants me to find them,” I said, “then persuade them to donate her heart, and hopefully, it’ll be given to Josie, who is at the top of the transplant list.”

  “You’re the detective, aren’t you?” Jean said. “I bet if anyone can find them, it’s definitely you.”

  I exhaled and nodded. It was tough to have to make a decision like this, especially for me, a pastor’s son who believed in miracles and the power of prayer. But I also believed in my daughter’s survival and would do anything to make sure she didn’t die. It was an ethical dilemma that I couldn’t afford to have.

  “I say it’s worth a try, at least,” Jean said. “They can always say no.”

  “I don’t know about this,” my dad said skeptically. “Haven’t the police looked for them already?”

  “Probably,” Jean said. “But so far, they haven’t found them, and I have a feeling Harry can. It’s a long shot, but better than nothing, the way I see it.”

  “A long shot is better than no shot at all; that’s for sure. Do you have a name?” I asked. “The name of the girl?”

  “Emilia García.”

  “And the mother?” I asked. “The one that died?”

  Jean shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t know.”

  I nodded pensively.

  “I’ll find it and the relatives, if it’s the last thing I do.”

  Chapter 7

  I opened the door without knocking. My boss, Major Fowler, lifted his eyes and looked at me as I burst into his office, located on the third floor of the building housing the Miami Police Department on 2nd Avenue. It was Sunday, but I knew he always came in for a few hours to get ready for the coming week. He liked the quietness of the office on Sundays, he had told me.

  “Hunter? What are you doing here? Isn’t this your day off?”

  I stepped toward his desk. “It is. But something’s come up. I need your help.”

  Fowler leaned back in his chair. We had known each other forever, and even though he had gone from dark brown to salt and pepper over the years, the way he lifted his eyebrows when looking at me was still the same.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t have time to explain everything, but to make it quick, Josie was put in the hospital today. It’s her heart.”

  Fowler went pale. “Oh, dear God. I am so sorry, Hunter. Let me know if I can do anything for you.”

  I rubbed my face, feeling sweaty from rushing to the police department downtown on my motorcycle. It was February, but Miami didn’t care. The air outside was heavy, and the sun scorched from the clear blue sky.

  “You can.”

  Fowler threw out his hands. “Name it.”

  “Who was on the case of the car that was pulled out of the harbor three weeks ago? Emilia García was the girl’s name. The mother died.”

  Fowler gave me a puzzled look.

  “I don’t have time to explain,” I said.

  He shrugged. “All right, it was Detective Ferdinand.”

  “Got it,” I said, then turned around and left, forgetting to shut the door behind me.

  “You’re welcome,” Fowler yelled behind me, but I barely heard him.

  I hurried down the hallway until I reached Ferdinand’s desk. I had known the guy for ten years and worked on several cases with him. He was known to be a good detective and one I trusted.

  “Hunter?” he asked and closed a drawer, looking up at me from behind his reading glasses. Ferdinand was pretty much my opposite. Small and chunky, and standing next to my six-feet-eight, he looked almost like a child. He had a handsome face behind the glasses and kind eyes. He was around ten years older than my thirty-six years and had been in the force for twenty-five years. From his computer screen, his wife and two adult children looked back at him, smiling on a beach somewhere. He liked to work weekends so he could take time off during the week instead when his wife had to work.

  “I thought this was your day off. You never work Sundays.”

  “It was. I need your help.”

  Ferdinand nodded toward the chair, signaling for me to sit down. I did, even though everything inside me screamed that I was running out of time.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “Emilia García.”

  “The girl we pulled out of the harbor?”

  “That’s her.”

  “What about her?”

  “I need the details of the case.”

  Ferdinand nodded. He turned around and opened a drawer behind him, then looked for a few seconds before he pulled out a file that he placed on the desk in front of me.

  “This is all there is on them as of now. It was pretty straightforward. The case was closed after three days.”

  Chapter 8

  “It was suicide,” Ferdinand said with an exhale. “They had been living on the streets for some time, sleeping in their car, and we figured the mom simply couldn’t take it anymore and decided to end it for both of them. We found sleeping pills in the car, and the toxicology report stated that the mother had taken enough of the pills to knock out a small horse. We concluded that she popped a couple of pills, then ran the car over the edge, taking the daughter with her. Such a tragedy.”

  I stared at the file, flipping through the pages. “And the dad?”

  Ferdinand bit his lip, then shook his head. “We never found him. They divorced two years ago, and he fell off the face of the earth.”

  “Do you have a name?”

  “Luis Martìnez, a fairly common name. Right after we identified the mother, we sent a patrol out to his last known address, but they said he didn’t live there anymore. They didn’t know where he moved to. He might have left the country.”

  I nodded while looking through the pictures taken of the inside of the car. I paused at a picture of the mother.

  “Have you looked for any other relatives? What about her parents?” I asked and tapped on the mother’s picture. “Do you know anything about the grandparents? If the dad is nowhere to be found, they’re the next of kin.”

  Ferdinand threw out his hands resignedly. “I know that she came down here from Dallas, Texas, so my guess is they’re up there. I’ve spoken to Dallas PD and asked them to try and look for them, but that’s all. I haven’t heard anything. To be honest, I haven’t had the time to dig deeper into it. You see this pile over here? All cases I have neglected over the past few months. I’m swamped here, Hunter. I simply don’t have the resources to go chase down a father or a set of grandparents who may not even live in this state. No matter how much I want to.”

  I lifted my eyes and met his.

  “Can I try?”

  Ferdinand furrowed his eyebrows.

  “Sure. I just don’t seem to understand why. Why would you? Don’t you have enough to do with the Four Seasons case?”

  The Four Seasons case was the story of five men being found dead in a hotel room at the Four Seasons Hotel six days ago. I had been put on the case and had been buried in it for days. So far, it looked mostly like a drug deal gone wrong, but I had a feeling there was more to it than that. I just hadn’t been able to break the case open yet
. Everywhere I went, I was met with closed doors.

  Today was Sunday, and I always take Sunday off to go to church with my family and then rest. I had been looking forward to this day. It was supposed to be a relaxing day with my family, and now it was turning out to be the most hectic day ever, trying to save my daughter’s precious life.

  I nodded. “I do. But this is something else. I’m not reopening the case, just trying to find the relatives.”

  “Be my guest,” he said. “There was nothing I’d like more than to find the poor girl’s relatives and let them know what happened. It would give final closure to this entire affair.”

  I grabbed the file and rose to my feet, sending Ferdinand half a smile.

  “Thanks.”

  “If you succeed, then I’m the one thanking you,” Ferdinand yelled after me as I hurried out to my motorcycle.

  Seconds later, I was rushing across town toward the beach.

  Chapter 9

  “Hunter? On a Sunday? This gotta be serious.”

  Al, alias Alvita, alias The Plague, opened the door and let me inside. I hurried past her, then put the file on her desk with the five monitors showing surveillance cameras from all over the world. I had never asked her what she used those for, or if it was even legal for her to be monitoring people in all those places. Some of them were obviously placed in people’s homes, and others were in workplaces. We had an understanding. She helped me out, and I didn’t ask any questions. Al was a former CIA hacker, and I had no idea how she made a living now. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to. I had once helped find her sister’s killer and earned myself a lifetime of services from her.