Steele Investments
Part 10
by Melinda
 
"Laura." He gasped her name so softly that it was barely audible before he passed out. Laura staggered as her Mr. Steele slumped against her, and she took the full brunt of his weight. Shocked, she eased him over to the floor at a complete and momentary loss for thought or action.
 
Remington's indisposition had freed Dorcas Bellenworth from restraint, and the murderess wasted no time in hightailing it toward the door. The woman's quick motion drew Laura's attention, and she reacted without thinking as Dorcas scuttled past on fat little feet stuffed into two-inch heels.
 
"Oh no, you don't!" Laura instinctively swung her leg out, catching Mrs. Bellenworth's ankle and tripping the elderly woman. With a ruthless efficiency that would shock her later, Laura grasped the butt of the agency's gun and cold-cocked Dorcas on the back of the head. The older woman went down for the count.
 
Abruptly, Laura found herself last woman standing in a roomful of downed bodies. It was a morbid feeling, and she wasted no time in grabbing for the phone on Mr. Steele's desk, calling first 911 to request an ambulance and then for the police.
 
~~~
 
"Miss Holt?" Alfred's hand on her elbow drew Laura's pensive glance. Junior had already been removed to the hospital--along with a police escort--and Dorcas was safely in police custody.
 
"Yes, Alfred?" she asked, not pausing for the conversation but rather keeping pace with the gurney conveying Mr. Steele to a waiting ambulance. She had no intention of letting him out of her sight.
 
"I'm heading home, Miss Holt," the retiring accountant said apologetically. From his state of extreme disarray, Alfred was clearly traumatized. "Would you like a lift to the hospital?"
 
Laura gave a sharp shake of her head. "No, thank you, I'm riding in the ambulance." She took a moment to pat the young man's hand. "Thank you for your help."
 
An earnest young paramedic intercepted Laura at the double back door of the ambulance onto which they were in the process of loading Remington. "Only family members are allowed to ride."
 
"I'm his wife," Laura lied smoothly and without compunction. The man had no name, no relatives, and no identification. There was no one but her to make medical decisions on his behalf, and she sure as hell was not leaving it to the discretion of some nameless bureaucrat!
 
Laura shoved her way past the young man and settled onto one of the benches that lined the sides of the vehicle, staring down at her unconscious partner. Her mind was in the grip of shock, and she had no awareness of the passage of time while the ambulance was in transit. She never even heard the shrill scream of the siren.
 
He looked pale and pained, lying there in the grip of a nightmare, because nothing in his slack expression suggested peaceful slumber. It came as a substantial and disturbing blow to see him--normally such an energetic person capable of high spirits and endless activity--looking so listless.
 
The EMTs cut away his clothing and gave him an IV, and she was briefly separated from him in admitting where she performed the mechanical task of supplying the administrative staff with the agency's insurance information.
 
"How is he?" Laura demanded of a nearby doctor the moment that she managed to separate herself from the bureaucrats.
 
"Mrs. Steele, he's being prepped for surgery. I need you to sign the authorization." The man already had the forms ready and thrust them toward her. Grasping the pen, Laura initialed where indicated and scrawled "L. Steele" on the line across the bottom.
 
A nurse took command of her afterward. "He's awake and he's asking for you," she said, escorting Laura into the dingy white room where they had taken him for the surgical prep.
 
His bright blue gaze was aimed straight at her the second she entered the room. "Laura?" He reached out his hand for her, and she grasped at his fingers, holding tight with terrified desperation.
 
"I'm here," Laura assured him, bending over in order to get as close as she dared, short of climbing onto the gurney.
 
"Thank you for coming," he whispered, so weakly that she knew he was barely conscious. She could see his fear, and his simple gratitude was a hard blow for her to take. She was used to thinking of him as completely self-possessed and independent--as needing no one.
 
"Don't leave me," he pleaded.
 
"I won't--I promise." It made her cry that he thought she could leave him alone. Her cheeks were wet with tears when they wheeled him away.
 
~~~
 
They put her alone into a little white room with a television mounted high on the wall and an assortment of magazines. Ugly couches and blocky chairs lined the walls. Someone had left a half-empty water bottle on an end table.
 
"Would you like a visit with a counselor?" the escorting nurse asked Laura, and she declined with a shake of her head.
 
She chose a single-person chair in the corner and sank into it after the nurse left. She sat with her head bent, arms out straight across her knees, hands clasped. The floor was made of shiny white tiles that were peppered with black specs--and that was all she saw for a while.
 
She had dreaded his departure but never imagined it might happen like this--that he might be stolen from her violently.
 
What would the agency be without him? He brought chaos and challenges--and spontaneity and fun--into her rigidly ordered life.
 
He brought skills to the job--his knowledge of lock-picking, security systems, and managing people--that were easily the equal of Murphy's solid and old-school investigative skills.
 
She needed him.
 
"Mizz Holt?" It was Lieutenant Harris' gravelly voice that intruded into her torpor.
 
"Detective," Laura responded, looking straight up into the cop's ruddy face. Her cheeks were tear-streaked and her nose runny, and she proudly stared him straight in the eye, making no effort to conceal or wipe away her grief.
 
Something that might have been admiration glimmered briefly in the cop's eyes. "We've got the mother and son in custody, but I'm gonna need a statement," he said without preamble, snapping open his notepad.
 
Exhaling hard, Laura sat back, gathering her strength once again for this latest ordeal. She took time to think before speaking--lest a careless verbal misstep should undo everything she had already done to protect her trouble-magnet of a conman.
 
Summarily, Laura spelled it all out for Harris, making certain revisions as was necessary to guard her Mr. Steele from danger. For instance, "Of course, now we know that Junior must have been the masked man whom I followed from the scene last night."
 
"That's not what Dorcas Bellenworth is sayin'," Harris replied, watching her with the attentive gaze of a true predator. The police detective was not as stupid as the image he fostered.
 
Laura met his level stare and never blinked. "Really, Lieutenant Harris--whom are you going to believe?"
 
Harris grunted.
 
"You'll find all of the evidence in Mr. Steele's office, including the ledgers, the Rolodex, and the safety deposit box key," Laura told him. She was handing him the case lock, stock, and barrel. The agency would take no credit. It would be fantastic for his career.
 
The door to the waiting room opened and a nurse entered. "Now if you'll excuse me--" Laura shot to her feet and did not wait for his leave.
 
"Well?" Laura demanded of the nurse. "Is he alive?"
 
The woman beamed. "He's going to be just swell, sweetie! The bullet passed straight through his side and missed all of his organs. I swear Lady Luck was smiling on that one!"
 
Laura let go of her death grip on her sanity. "She usually does," Laura replied with a tremulous smile.
 
To Part 11
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