Reunited By The Badge. Deborah Mello Fletcher

suddenly consuming. Paul no longer had any confidence in any product with the Lender name attached to it.

      He opened his eyes and took a second breath. “Did they do an autopsy?”

      “The official ruling was complications from pneumonia. I can get you a copy of the autopsy report if you’d like me to.”

      “I’d really appreciate that. He was doing better when I left. I need to know what happened.”

      “I understand completely. Dr. Hayes was attending when he was admitted. He may be able to answer some of your questions, as well. Would you like me to see if he’s in yet?”

      Paul shook his head. “Don’t worry yourself. I’ll run down to the morgue and see what I can find out myself. I appreciate your help, though.”

      The iPhone that rested on the woman’s hip suddenly chimed. “Duty calls,” she said as she reached for the device.

      Paul smiled. “Don’t let me keep you from your rounds.”

      “It was good to see you, Dr. Reilly,” she said as she exited the room to answer the call.

      “It was good to see you, too, Grace.”

      Paul moved back to the desk to claim his briefcase. He exited the office, locked it behind him and headed down the corridor. Grace had been called into a patient’s room and she waved one last time as he passed by the door.

      As he neared the nurses’ station Paul saw them before they saw him. The two men from the night before stood with a hospital administrator, questioning one of the staff members. He made an abrupt turn as he heard them speak his name, asking about his whereabouts. As he made it to the opposite end of the hallway and turned toward the stairs, they spied him, the administrator pointing in his direction.

      Without giving it an ounce of thought, Paul took off running, descending three flights of stairs and tearing out a side door, through the emergency room bay, to the car parked in the back lot. As he pulled the vehicle onto the main road, the two men stood outside the hospital building, spinning in circles as they tried to figure out where he’d disappeared to. Paul kept driving, not bothering to give a second look behind him.

      Simone stepped out of the bathroom. She was drying her damp hair with a thin white towel. Her brother was on his phone, texting intently as he sat waiting for her.

      “Where’s Paul?” she questioned as she moved to the window. She pushed the drapes aside to peer out at the parking lot.

      “Hospital,” Mingus answered, never lifting his eyes from his cell phone screen.

      She blinked. “Why didn’t you stop him?”

      “Why didn’t you?”

      She winced, her hands falling to her hips. “If I’d known he planned to leave, I would have.”

      Her brother shrugged his broad shoulders, his gaze still focused on his phone. “He said he had patients to see.”

      “And you didn’t think that might be a problem?”

      “Should it be?”

      “Uhhh, maybe? Or did you forget someone was shooting at us last night?” she quipped.

      Mingus finally lifted his eyes to give her a quick look. “It’s doubtful anyone will take a shot at him in broad daylight,” he said.

      “And you know this how?”

      “I don’t really. It’s just a hunch,” Mingus said as he slid his cell phone into the inside pocket of his leather jacket. He changed the subject. “You need to finish getting dressed. We need to meet your boyfriend in forty-five minutes.”

      “Meet him where?”

      “You sure do ask a lot of questions, Simone! Can you just get ready to leave, please?”

      “I ask questions because I need answers and you’re not telling me anything.”

      Mingus blew air past his full lips. “You two need to get out of Chicago. I don’t know where you’re going, and it’s best no one knows, but I trust Paul is going to keep you safe. Now, let’s get moving, please. You need to call your job so they’re not looking for you. And, you need to call our mother. Tell her Paul is taking you away for a few days to reconcile. I’m sure she’ll be very excited! Throw something in there about grandbabies and she won’t worry about you for at least a month!”

      A wave of panic hit Simone like a gut punch to her midsection. She and Paul were leaving Chicago and the uncertainty of what lay ahead for them suddenly felt daunting. She had a lengthy list of what-ifs and no sustainable answers about the future filling her head and she knew it showed in the angst-filled expression on her face. Her brother picking at her didn’t help the situation.

      “Talk about planning a wedding and that might buy you two months of freedom from parental interference,” Mingus was saying.

      Simone’s lips twisted and turned, her face burning hot with annoyance. She shook her index finger at her brother. “I really don’t like you,” she said as she shuffled back in the direction of the bathroom.

      Mingus laughed. “I love you, too, Simone. You’re the best little sister in the whole wide world.”

      “And don’t you forget it,” Simone muttered as she slammed the bathroom door closed after her.

      Paul’s mind was racing as he searched out a parking space in the West Loop neighborhood. His anxiety level was at an all-time high and he took two deep breaths to calm his nerves. After shutting down the engine of the luxury vehicle, he checked and then double-checked the address Mingus had given him before stepping out of the car.

      Paul paused at the chain-link fence that bordered the property. He looked left and then right, assessing his surroundings before he stepped through the latched gate, then reclosed it behind him. He took the steps two at a time and depressed the doorbell. As he waited, he paced, his eyes darting back and forth across the landscape.

      The elderly woman who answered the door eyed him with reservation. “What’cha want, baby?”

      “Good morning, ma’am. I’m here to see Liza? My name’s Paul Reilly. Mingus Black sent me.”

      The woman didn’t respond, still staring at him intently. She was petite in stature, wearing a floral housecoat and a full-length apron that stopped below her knees. There was a dishcloth in her hand and a light brush of white flour dusting her chubby cheek. Her gaze swept over him, running the length of his body from head to toe. After sizing him up she finally unlocked the door and pushed it open to allow him entry.

      “Come on in, baby. I’m Pearl Hill but e’erybody calls me Mama. You want somethin’ to eat? I got a pan of biscuits ’bout to come out the oven. I got some fatback and bacon, too, but Liza don’t eat no meat. You ain’t one of them vegans, too, are you?” she asked, her words laced with a Southern drawl and coming in what sounded like one long, drawn-out sentence before she took another breath.

      Paul smiled. “No, thank you, ma’am. I’m good.”

      She sized him up a second time. “You know you hungry,” she said with an air of finality. “I’m gon’ make you a plate.” She pointed down a flight of stairs. “Liza’s down in the basement. She’s expecting you.”

      Paul nodded as she continued toward the back of the home and the kitchen. The stately greystone, an architectural staple in Chicago since the 1890s, was built from Bedford limestone and named for its color. It was oversize, the craftsmanship evident in the exterior detail. The interior of the duplex featured wide-plank oak flooring, high ceilings and an abundance of natural light. Moving down the steps Paul discovered the lower-level bonus