Among Thieves

Fi

“ Devon ’s Irishman?” Kozlowski asked.

Fi

“That’s not good,” Kozlowski agreed. “I take it he’s the one who put Lissa in the hospital?”

“Probably. He says that if we go to the police, he’ll kill us all.”

Fi

Chapter Twenty-Six

Boston City Hospital was on Massachusetts Avenue, just across the Roxbury border from the South End. The area had traditionally been one of the more dangerous in Boston. Gentrification had edged its way in uneasily during the explosion of real estate costs in the city in the 1990s and early 2000s, but it remained a high-crime neighborhood. Boston was the home to many of the world’s greatest hospitals; due largely to its location, BCH was not considered one of them. It served an urban community without the money or the co

Fi

On the second floor, Fi

“She was found on Dorchester,” Dr. Jeffson said. Even his voice sounded young. “She was lying unconscious by the side of the road; her car was parked a few yards away. At first the suspicion was that she’d been in some sort of an accident, but there was no damage to the car, and her injuries are more consistent with an assault. She was hit over the head with something solid. The police are interviewing people, trying to determine exactly what happened, but I wouldn’t hold your breath. It’s not the sort of neighborhood where people see anything.”

“Is she okay?” Kozlowski asked. The concern in his voice was plain, but he was keeping it under control at least.

The doctor blinked at them. “Oh, I thought someone already talked to you about her condition.”

“Not really,” Fi

“Ah,” the doctor said. He took Fi

“No,” Fi

The young doctor looked over at Kozlowski. His eyes showed his surprise, but to his credit he didn’t miss a beat. “Sorry,” he said. “Mr…?”

“Kozlowski.”

“Yes, Mr. Kozlowski, Lissa is going to be fine. We still don’t know about the baby, however.”

“What baby?” Fi

Jeffson glanced at him, then said to Kozlowski. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

Fi

“It appears that she was also hit in the abdomen. We don’t know whether it has caused any damage yet. It looks as though she’s around ten weeks; we’re going to run an ultrasound as soon as the equipment frees up. Then we’ll know more.”

“Okay.” Kozlowski looked stu

“Yes, she woke up about twenty minutes ago. She hasn’t said much. The police wanted to interview her, but she said she was too tired; I got the impression she wanted to talk to you first, and she’s clearly worried about the pregnancy.”

“Can I see her?”

The doctor nodded toward a door down the hallway. “She’s in room 217. I’ll be in as soon as an ultrasound frees up.”

Lissa lay on the bed, both hands resting on her belly. She couldn’t believe what was happening. Any of it. Her head was killing her, and the fact that her thoughts were being pulled in multiple directions didn’t help any. She couldn’t stop thinking about Sally, and the worry was devastating. She had avoided the policeman’s eyes when he first tried to question her. She put her arm over her face and told him that she couldn’t concentrate. That was true. She also said she didn’t remember what happened. That was a lie. She had to lie, though. She needed more information before she involved the police. The Boston Police Department was a blunt instrument, and it wasn’t clear that that was what was needed at the moment.

She was so worried about her pregnancy that she felt sick. It was odd; she hadn’t wanted to get pregnant in the first place. When her doctor informed her that she was, she’d had mixed feelings. Now that it looked as though she might lose the baby, she couldn’t imagine not carrying to term-not having Kozlowski’s child. It made her feel paralyzed.

Kozlowski walked into the room. He came straight to her and took her hand. She worked to choke back tears.

“What happened?” he asked.

She rubbed the back of her free hand across her nose and sniffled. “It was him,” she said. “ Devon ’s Irish guy. Had to be. He took Sally.” A tear ran down her cheek.

Kozlowski nodded. “We heard from him. He said he’s going to kill her if he doesn’t get the paintings.”

“I figured. I was late picking her up. We were late. We fucked up. Maybe if I’d been there earlier…” Her voice trailed off.

“He still would have gotten to her,” Kozlowski said. “Think about what he did to Murphy and Ballick. This isn’t a guy who’s going to be stopped. Not yet.”

“I don’t want to think about what he’s done.”

Kozlowski said nothing for another moment. “How about you? You okay?”

“That’s what they say.” She looked down at her stomach. “They don’t know about the baby.”

“I talked to the doctor,” Kozlowski said. “The ultrasound will be freed up in a little bit. We won’t worry about it until then.”

“Right,” she said. “No point in worrying.” She looked up at him. He had the type of face that was difficult to read. Right now, though, his tension was plain. She squeezed his hand. “Maybe we were never meant to be parents,” she said.

“Maybe.” He looked out the window. The room faced to the south, out onto Route 93, which wound its way through Dorchester down toward the South Shore, toward the suburbs with their houses and their lawns and their picket fences. It was a world of domestic tranquillity neither of them knew or particularly wanted to know. And yet at the moment it was a world she envied with all her heart. “We’re still getting married, though,” he said after a moment.

“If the baby’s dead we don’t need to.”

He looked back at her. He wasn’t crying; she gave thanks for that. It wasn’t who he was. It wasn’t who she wanted him to be. “It’s not about need,” he said. “I want to.”

She took a deep breath, then nodded. The door opened, and Dr. Jeffson walked in with a nurse. He looked at them with the curiosity Lissa had seen on so many faces before; that wonder at the two of them together as a couple. She didn’t care. She knew what they were doing together; that was all that mattered. “The ultrasound is available,” he said. “Are you ready?”