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“Can I… I mean we… can she have visitors?” I ask, anxious to see her already. To witness with my own eyes that she’s awake and alright.
“Yes,” he says, and that’s all I need to hear.
I take a step toward her room, only to be stopped by Sander’s outstretched hand. I turn, eyeing him, wondering what reason he could have for stopping me from finally seeing her.
“Regina is with her now,” he says.
Of course. Regina will want to be with her first. Sometimes, when it comes to Keaton, I forget that other people outside the two of us exist.
“No worries, you’ll get your turn in no time,” he offers me a smile. One I find myself easily returning.
I wonder what Keaton would say if she saw us now.
I guess it isn’t long now before we’ll find that out.
“Hey, I wanted to let you know that I ran that plate number and came up with a name,” Sander says as we make our way back toward Keaton’s room.
“Really? Who?” I ask.
He pauses, cutting his eyes to me. After a moment, he must come to the conclusion that he’s going to share the details with me. I wonder if this could get him in trouble. I definitely don’t want that. Especially not now when we’re actually working together to figure all of this shit out.
“His name is Antonio Lopez. He goes by ToLo and runs with Mateo’s gang. He’s been popped a couple of times for possession, but nothing serious. Yet.”
The finality in that single word tells me all I need to know.
We aren’t stopping until those motherfuckers are dealt with.
“What now?” I ask.
“Well, I can’t question him or order a search and seizure without probable cause, and since we obtained the plate number from our friend who wishes to remain anonymous, it makes no sense why I would have any,” he explains.
“True,” I say, thinking of what we could do to keep the security guard out of this. I don’t want anything happening to the guy.
“Well, I don’t have jurisdiction out there, but I do know a guy who works with L.M.P.D. I gave him a call, said we had a tip off to someone in a blue car returning to town the afternoon of the accident, and asked if he’d run street cams for me and see if anything turned up.”
Street cameras. That’s genius. I wish I’d thought of it.
“Did he find anything?” I ask, wishing he’d just spit it out already.
“He did. Said he spotted a neon blue Nissan heading into Monterra around noon and then left town about forty-five minutes later. The front end of the car was all smashed up. Plates match, too,” he says, smiling.
“Fuck yes,” I whisper yell, reaching my closed fist out to meet Sander’s. “We got him now.”
“That we do,” he responds, and the way he says it gives me pause.
“Wait, what?”
“My friend ran the plates, got the guy’s address and sent the paperwork over to my chief. We made the arrest about an hour ago,” he tells me.
“Dude,” I yell, earning the attention of one pissed off looking nurse. “Sorry,” I apologize.
Turning back to Sander, I just shake my head.
“What?” he asks, innocently.
“We need to work on your storytelling skills,” I say, but he just laughs in good humor.
Huh. Who would have thought that through all of this, he and I might actually become something like friends?
