Chapter 102
ALMOST EXACTLY TWENTY-FOUR hours after coming to this same hospital with Alain Creasy, I was back. This time I was sitting in the corner of a hospital room while a young intern examined Kyle Anderson.
It was well past visiting hours, too late to go see Alain. One of the floor nurses said he was sleeping anyway. I’d have to wait to tell him the progress we’d made.
Rich Conklin sat next to me on an adjustable padded stool with an advertisement for a medical supply company stenciled on it.
A paramedic had helped flush the pepper spray from Conklin’s eyes and face, but he still had bloodshot eyes and a runny nose.
He’d barely said a word since we’d arrived at the hospital.
I leaned over from my uncomfortable, non-padded stool and said, “How are you feeling now?”
“Mostly just embarrassed that this asshole pepper sprayed me while I was holding a gun.”
Even after getting splashed with homemade pepper spray, Rich retained his sense of humor. That was vital in police work.
He said to me, “Now I know why they make us get pepper sprayed in the Academy. It’s disorienting. But I’m glad you were there. I felt totally incapacitated.”
I glanced over at Kyle, who was handcuffed to his hospital bed rail.
He was alert and responsive. In fact, we were starting to question if he’d ever actually been unconscious or had been faking it all along.
The guy had proven to be an extremely smooth talker.
I imagined he’d wormed his way out of many dangerous situations before.
We’d arranged for a private room while the doctors decided if they needed to keep him.
At least in a private room we could guard him safely.
It was a standard single-occupancy room. The smell of disinfectants and cleaners overwhelmed any other odors.
Kyle looked at me and said, “I don’t understand why I’m being treated like this.”
“You mean professionally and reasonably? Transported to the hospital and evaluated by doctors? Offered food and drink at regular intervals? I’m not sure how you expected to be treated after you ran from police, then pepper sprayed a Homicide inspector.”
Kyle was at least smart enough to know not to say anything more.
I read him his rights and went through a few administrative issues. Then I said, “Are you interested in talking to us?”
“Sure. It’s only a lousy prostitution charge.”
I couldn’t keep the smile from spreading across my face. “Is that all it is?”