The Blackjack Conspiracy by David Kent

Author:David Kent [Kent, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Thrillers, General, Suspense
ISBN: 9781416516378
Google: jGhI6u0e_uAC
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2005-12-14T11:00:00+00:00

Faith called an astonished Bill Bridge, explained to him that his daughter had been in an accident and was in preterm labor, and told him she was making arrangements for him, Celia Morales, their six-year-old son Miguel, and his older son, Danny Park, to fly to Pittsburgh. They could pick up their tickets at the airport in Oklahoma City.

“What the hell’s she doing in Pittsburgh?” Bridge had asked.

“She wants you here,” Faith said, evading his question. “She needs family here.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“A friend,” Faith said, and hung up before he could say more.

She made the arrangements, charging the airline tickets to her government credit card. If Yorkton didn’t like the expense, he could take the funds out of her personal discretionary account. She didn’t care. Alex Bridge’s family would be with her, and that was that. It wasn’t too much to ask, considering what she’d gone through.

Alex was taken to surgery at seven thirty, as the shadows were lengthening across downtown Pittsburgh’s three rivers. Faith sat in the surgery waiting room, drinking cup after cup of vending-machine coffee before realizing she’d barely eaten anything all day. She wandered downstairs to the cafeteria and ordered a cheeseburger, which turned out to be surprisingly good. She called Hendler and left a message on his voice mail. She tried to explain where she was, then stopped and went with the vague “I had to go out of town on a case” and promised to call him later.

Back in the waiting area, she paced and drank more coffee. A little after ten o’clock, Dr. Kaplan came into the room and said, “She came through the surgery just fine. Lost a little blood, but not too much.”

“What about the baby?”

“There was a partial placental abruption, but I think we got him in time. His lungs are very underdeveloped at this stage.” He squeezed Faith’s arm. “Our NICU is one of the best in the country. They’ll take good care of him. Here they come now.”

A nurse in blue scrubs, face mask flapping down around her chest, was carrying a tiny bundle. Two others came behind, wheeling Alex. Faith fell into step beside the rolling hospital bed. At the elevator, the bed turned one way and the nurse with the baby another. Faith stopped.

Kaplan saw her confusion. “Would you like to carry him to NICU?”

Faith put up her hands. “Oh, no. I can’t…”

“When we have NICU babies,” the nurse said, “a lot of times we’ll let the father carry them in, or some other family member.”

“But I’m not family,” Faith said. “Her family’s on the way here.”

“You’re all she has right now.” The nurse thrust the baby into Faith’s arms.

The baby was swaddled tightly in a white blanket. He’d evidently been cleaned up already, as there was no blood or fluid on his face. He was very tiny, a pale, dusky color, his eyes a slate blue. He had a tangled mass of thick brown hair—Alex’s hair, Faith thought.

She looked at him. His eyes were open and staring up at her, but Faith had read that newborns couldn’t see very far.

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