Chapter 12
ILSA RAMIREZ WAS in the critical care unit at Torrance Memorial. Stilwell went by on his way from the Ahmanson Center to the Catalina Express docks at Long Beach. He had been told she was in a medically induced coma, but he wanted to go and show his support even if she didn’t know he was there.
She was in a single room with an observation window. A uniformed deputy was posted at the door, not that anyone seriously thought that Ramirez was in danger from a threat outside the room. Her biggest threat was the possibility of her own organs shutting down.
Stilwell stood at the window thinking about the twenty minutes it had taken for the rescue chopper to get to them and all the blood he could not stop flowing from her body.
Her neck had been torn up by the bullet.
He’d tried to slow the bleeding with a dressing from the first aid kit, but it had soaked through.
“Do they need blood, do you know?” he asked the deputy at the door.
“Nah, people have been lining up to give blood,” the deputy said. “She probably could use some prayers, though.”
“Right. What about her family?”
“Yeah, they’ve been here. A bunch of them came up from San Diego.”
“Good.”
Stilwell’s phone buzzed and he pulled it from his pocket. It was Captain Corum. He started walking down the hallway as he answered.
“Captain.”
“Stil, I haven’t seen you on the cameras today. Why is that?”
“Because I’m off Wednesdays and Thursdays, remember?”
“Right, right. Are you at home?”
“No, I took a boat over to the mainland. I’m at the hospital checking on Ramirez.”
“How is she?”
“No change. Still in a coma, breathing tube, the whole thing.”
“A goddamn shame. Even if she makes it, she’s done.”
“Maybe.”
“So, listen, I’m calling to tell you you’re off the bench. Return to full duty starting Friday.”
“That was fast. Are they dinging my file?”
“No, not this time. It was clear there was a fuckup at the airport, but your efforts to save Ramirez balanced things out for the review team. No punishment, no penalty. You should be happy.”
“I am, Captain. How goes the investigation into the criminal side of it?”
“They’re working all angles.”
“They looking at Quigley?”
That brought a beat of silence from Corum.
“Why should they be looking at him?” he finally asked.
“It was his tip, his CI,” Stilwell said. “I figured they would want to run that down, see if they can figure out who his guy was. Should be in the CI file, right?”
“I’m sure they’re looking at all of that.”
“Captain, can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead. I may not answer it, but go ahead.”
“What did Quigley do that got him transferred to Catalina?”
The captain took his time answering.
“That’s above your pay grade, Stil,” he said. “But why would you ask that?”
“Just thinking about the possibilities,” Stilwell said. “He comes out here a couple months ago, then he gets this tip about a drop out here. I’m sure it’s happened before, but it seems kind of coincidental, don’t you think?”
“I’m sure all of that is under consideration. But it’s not your case, so why are you so interested?”
“Not my case, but it is my island, Captain. I just wish I knew a little more about the people I get sent. Speaking of which, I’m down two deputies. I’m going to need replacements or overtime authorization.”
“You’ll get replacements with the next deployment. Meanwhile, I’ll give you eighty hours of overtime to spread around. Be tight with it.”
“Got it.”
“Good. Now, remember, you are off the bench but you are not working this case. Comprende, mi amigo?”
The captain always dipped into his rudimentary Spanish when he was trying to sweet-talk Stilwell into going along to get along.
“Comprendo, Capitán,” Stilwell said.