What Doesn't Kill Us--A McKenzie Novel by David Housewright (most read books txt) 📗

you? You’d love that? Get your face on television.”

“I’d be happy to speak to him under the most private conditions he’d care to arrange with you and your whole army of attorneys holding his hand.”

“Outrageous.”

“What I find outrageous is that neither you nor Mr. Reinfeld has bothered to ask who was shot or what condition he’s in. It makes me think that you already know.”

This time Shipman was sure—they hung up on her.

“Dammit,” she said.

“What?”

Shipman looked up to find Bobby Dunston hovering above her desk.

“Hey, boss,” she said.

“What?”

“I hit a snag. One of the people who had spoken to McKenzie on his cell just before he was shot refuses to talk to us.”

“Who?”

“Justus Reinfeld.”

“Where have I heard that name before?”

Shipman explained.

“He refuses to submit to an interview?” Bobby said.

“That’s what his lawyers say.”

“Which is his right.”

“Also what his lawyers say.”

Bobby thought about it for a moment.

“Perhaps we can get him to change his mind,” he said. “Why don’t you come into my office? You can give me a full briefing on what you have so far and then we’ll make a few calls.”

Nina’s long, therapeutic cry and the midnight coffee she had with Dr. Linder afterward seemed to have done her good. At least, she slept comfortably all the way through what was left of the night, rousing only when her cell rang. Unfortunately, the ringtone jolted her wide awake as if it heralded the worst possible news. Her heart was beating wildly as she fumbled for the phone; the caller ID said Shelby. That didn’t make her feel any better.

“What is it?” she said.

“Nina? It’s Shelby. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, no, I was—I was startled. Sorry if I was rude…”

“You weren’t rude.”

“What is it?”

“I’m calling—do you want company? At the hospital, I mean? I know that they’re planning to bring McKenzie out of his coma this morning.”

“No.”

“If you would rather be alone…”

“No, I wouldn’t rather be alone. Shel, that’s not what I meant. I meant—I’m still half asleep, honey…”

“I did wake you up. I’m so sorry.”

“Hang on a sec.”

Nina tossed the covers back and swung her legs off the bed. The mere act of standing seemed to bring her completely back into the real world. She left the bedroom and moved into the kitchen area, her final destination being the coffeemaker. Nina spoke as she walked.

“I spent some time with Lilly last night,” she said. “She gave me a kind of tutorial on how all of this works. She said if your critically ill loved one is a straightforward admission to intensive care following elective or planned surgery or a soft admission because of some minor emergency, then your critically ill loved one should come off the respirator and out of the induced coma within twelve to seventy-two hours.”

“Your critically ill loved one?” Shelby repeated.

“Sometimes Lilly speaks as if we’re all sixth graders who have been held back a year.”

“I’ve noticed that about doctors.”

“I like her though.”

“What else did she say?” Shelby asked.

“She said if your critically ill loved one…”

“Stop saying that.”

“McKenzie was a more complicated admission, more unstable partly because of the damage caused by the bullet and partly because he suffered cardiac arrest during surgery. In his case, Lilly said they might keep him in a coma upwards from seventy-two hours. Possibly even a week.”

“Why didn’t she tell us that in the first place?”

“Because she didn’t know. She still doesn’t. At least not for sure.”

“What does she know?”

“She was very positive, Shel. Very encouraging. She said she’d make a decision sometime this afternoon. She said she’d call this afternoon.”

“All right.”

“Something else.”

“What?”

“She said waking up a coma patient isn’t like turning on a bedroom light in the morning and telling your kid it’s time to get ready for school. She said it’s more like a process.”

“Believe me, getting the girls ready for school is a process.”

“She said McKenzie will wake up gradually once they start eliminating the drugs from his system and even when he does he’ll probably be disoriented and confused.”

“Why should he be different from the rest of us? What are you going to do, Nina?”

“Go to Rickie’s and wait for Lilly to call. What else can I do?”

“Let me buy you lunch.”

“Why don’t you come to the club and I’ll buy you lunch. That way I can introduce you to my bodyguards.”

“You have bodyguards? Why?”

“Some guy came into Rickie’s yesterday and threatened me.”

“Wait. What? Does Bobby know this?”

“I told him and I assume he told Greg Schroeder because not long after that his guys started following me around.”

“Who’s Greg Schroeder?”

“A private investigator that owes McKenzie a favor.”

Unlike KTech, All Uppercase Investments didn’t have its own building. Instead, it occupied three of the forty-two floors of the Campbell Mithun Tower in downtown Minneapolis, named after an advertising and marketing firm that doesn’t even exist anymore. Greg Schroeder took the elevator to the first of the three floors; it wouldn’t stop on the next two. The doors opened to reveal an opulent reception area with comfortable furnishings and huge windows that looked out on buildings nearly as tall as the tower. In the center of the reception area was a high mahogany desk with the letters AUI artfully carved into it. Behind the desk stood two women, one brunette and one blonde, who looked as if they both could be runway models. Schroeder made his way to the desk. He noticed that there were no chairs behind it and Schroeder imagined the models strutting about all day on three-inch heels like the girls you see caressing cars at the auto show.

The women spoke first.

“Good morning,” they said in unison.

“Good morning.”

“How can we help you?” asked the blonde.

“I’d like to see Mr. Reinfeld,” Schroeder said.

“Mr. Reinfeld doesn’t accept visitors without an appointment,” said the brunette. “Is there someone else who might be able to help you?”

“How do you know that I don’t have an appointment?”

“He would have told us who to expect and when.”

“He coordinates that closely with you?”

“We are given that privilege,” the