Pride Falls

Chapter 4

As things shook out, the team learned that the victim's name was Petty Officer First Class Mark DuBois, a native of New Orleans. The working theory was that a jumpy security guard shot him, but something told Pride that wasn't the whole story. The shaky man seemed incapable of shooting a frog in a shot glass, let alone a crazed gunman. Plus, they still had to find out why DuBois was after Hollister. The doctor was in the wind, and no one else had any answers.

There was also the mystery as to why the sailor had died. Considering his injuries, he had been extraordinarily lucky. The ER doctors did not deem the wound life-threatening. He did have some broken ribs from the fall, but those didn't pierce any vital organs. They turned the body over to the forensics team of Dr. Loretta Wade and Sebastian Lund, but it would take some time to get the lab work done.

As the PA had corrected hypothesized, LaSalle's ankle was sprained and his elbow was broken in several places. Surgeons had to screw in metal tabs to set it. When Pride, Brody, and Percy visited him after his operation, his arm was casted and his leg elevated on a pillow of ice.

"Brody, baby, you came!" He said with a loopy smile.

"I told you I would LaSalle," she smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Fannnnn-tastic," he slurred and nodded his head for emphasis. "These people are so nice!"

"And, they have such nice drugs," Percy smirked.

"Well, Christopher," Pride said. "They want to keep you here another day. And, I don't want to see you at the office for at least a week."

"But, I'm raring for action," LaSalle protested.

"Whoa, country mouse," Percy said indicating his arm. "Looks like your paw's outta commission for awhile."

"This-pffttt," LaSalle said. "I use my other arm to shoot and, hey," he smiled as if a light bulb went off. "I could hide my gun in the sling! How great would that be!"

The three other agents looked amused.

"You think about that LaSalle," Merri said. "And we'll get back to you."

Pride stopped smiling. "Seriously son, you need to heal, and you're no good to us if you re-injure yourself."

LaSalle made a face, even through the drug haze, knew the senior officer was right. Still, he wasn't used to being idle, and the thought of being cooped up in his apartment made him crazy.

"Maybe y'all could come by my place to keep me company," he winked at Percy.

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A day later, Rachel was doing her laundry. As she loaded her uniforms into the washing machine, she couldn't help but let her mind wander. Thinking about that young dead sailor stirred up old heartache. Then, her thoughts turned to Agent Pride and she smiled to herself. Something about him radiated warmth and familiarity. She felt comfortable with him from the moment they shook hands. And, it didn't hurt that he was severely handsome. She was almost ashamed to admit that she had checked his left hand for a ring, and didn't see one. Still, not all men wore one, and she wouldn't be surprised if he was spoken for. But, she mused, maybe she shouldn't hope for romance at her age.  She had loved and lost two wonderful men, maybe that was her allotment.  As she daydreamed, she began to clean out the pockets of her uniform. Her thoughts stopped abruptly when she touched the paper she had picked up off the floor.

She opened it up and read. Suddenly, she went pale and sat down hard. After composing herself, she went to her wallet, pulled out the card Pride gave her, and called him.

"Special Agent Pride?" She said. "This is Rachel Norton, the ER nurse from the other day. You told me to call if I had any more info. I think I may have something for you."

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To guard her privacy, Pride asked Rachel to meet him at his bar, CFA. It was late morning on a Monday, so the place was closed to the public. He was playing "Someone to Watch Over Me" on his grandmother's piano when she came in. He looked up and gestured to her. She tentatively approached the stage and he stopped.

"Oh, please don't stop-that was beautiful," she said. "I wish I could play like that."

"Thank you, Mrs. Norton," he said. "You play?

"Not very well," she said. "Just to accompany myself while I sing."

"You sing?" He said.

"Mostly in the church choir," she replied. "But, I do love a ballad."

"We have an Open Mic night on Thursdays, maybe you could show us what you've got," he said.

She laughed. "I'd have to have a few glasses of wine first."

"Then I'd call you a cab," he smiled and got up from the bench.

"Why don't we sit over her." He motioned over to a table and she followed, fidgeting with her purse strap.

"So you perform here?" she said, as she sat placed her purse on the chair next to her.

"Occasionally. I own the place," he said.

"Really? A federal agent with a bar...interesting," she considered the information. "So, you get 'em drunk, then follow 'em, and arrest 'em for DWI?"

"Now, that would be entrapment, nurse," he said with a smile. "Besides CFA is more about the music then the booze."

"A bar that's not about the booze? Why, that's like a hospital that's not about medication," she replied.

"Not everyone who goes to a hospital gets drugs," he said.

"No, but they sure try," she smiled.

"Well, we do take care when serving, and we have a strict 'call a cab' policy, if we think anyone's had too much," he said.

"Oh, so not special just for me?" She said, cursing herself silently for flirting.

There was an awkward silence.

"You said you had something..." He lead.

"Have you found Hollister?" She asked.

"Not yet, but if you have any idea of his whereabouts, that would be helpful," he said.

"Sorry, I can't help you there." She bit her lip nervously as she took the paper out of her purse. "But, the reason I called was this." She showed him the paper. "I found this on the floor of DuBois' room when I was cleaning up his things. I totally forgot. I found it in my pocket doing laundry."

Pride took the paper; it contained a list of about 10-15 men's names. Some were crossed off, most had check marks.

"Do you know who these people are?" he asked.

"Not all. The names I recognize were Hollister's patients, and, those all served in the military, so maybe they all did..." she trailed off.

"And you know this how?"

"I worked in his office for eight years, and, well, look at the name third from the bottom," she said.

Pride looked at the name, MATTHEW NORTON. It was crossed off.

"Your son?" he said softly.

She nodded. "Marine killed in Afghanistan six years ago," she said, her eyes tearing up. "Many of the others were his friends. A few others dead, some messed up -- none of them the same."

Pride gave her a look of concern.

"So, you see," she continued to look down, her voice beginning to waver. "I would like to find out what happened here too."

He covered her hand with his, "I promise we'll get to the bottom of this."