🎉🎊I have reached another milestone!🎉🎊 I feel honored to have ⭐️200k reads⭐️on The Dangerous Ones, thanks to all of you!!❤️❤️❤️To celebrate, I'm adding another deleted scene!🤸🏻‍♂️🤸🏻‍♂️🤸🏻‍♂️

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This takes place just after Simon is arrested, chapter thirty-seven. If you recall, a young man named Gerry arrives at the police station right around the same time Simon does. Virginia's disappointment in seeing him there seems like a punishment on its own. When Gerry mentions that his mother is sick, Virginia promises to check on her. This is that scene:

The front door of the Los Palos Gardens apartments was unlocked, providing no security for its tenants. The dark, musty lobby was a far cry from what it used to be—in its heyday, the place had been considered grand. Back in the thirties and forties, the building had been a family-run hotel. With the removal of the street rail system in the early fifties, the hotel lost its popularity and eventually the family sold it. New owners allowed the building to fall into disrepair as gangs moved into the area and scared most of their business away. Eventually, it had joined the public housing system; although looking at it now, she wasn't sure how it was passing its inspections.

She bypassed the elevator, doubtful of its current condition, and took the well-trodden stairs two at a time to the second floor. The hallway that greeted her showed tiny traces of its hotel history. The carpeting, stained and thread bare in places, revealed a hint of its original royal blue color along the edges where neglect had no reach. Luxury wallpaper had yellowed over the years and was peeling in places, hanging down like the head of an elderly, infirm man humiliated to be seen in such a reduced condition. Half of the hallway was in shadows, the bare bulbs of long-ago broken fixtures needing replacement.

Passing doorways with little soundproofing, the racket of televisions and screaming children filled the hall. One door opened a crack upon her approach, slamming shut once the person peering through it got a gander at her shirt.

Police were not trusted in these places.

She knocked on the door of Darla Smith's apartment, hearing coughing coming from the other side.

There was a weak "hello?"

"Mrs. Smith, it's Lieutenant Robins. I wanted to check and see how you are doing."

More coughing, the volume increasing as the woman got closer to the door. The peephole darkened, followed by the sound of locks turning. The door swung open slowly.

Darla Smith was a tiny woman to begin with, but hunched over as she was, the quilted blanket pulled around her shoulders seemed to be swallowing her up in its soft bulges.

"Mrs. Smith, your son Gerry told me you were sick. How long have you been like this?"

Darla motioned for her to come in as she lurched her way back to the couch. "I don't know. It started out as a cold but it keeps getting worse." The effort of talking set off another round of coughing.

Virginia cursed herself for not having stopped by earlier. Court duty had been eating up her time so she had not been walking her usual beat. "Did Gerry pick you up anything for that cough?"

"Yes, he is a good boy."

"Have you been to a doctor?"

"We don't have any insurance; my application has been submitted three times to Medi-Cal. When we phone, all they tell us is it has been rejected due to lack of paperwork."

Darla's lips were slightly blue. Tired eyes periodically drifted downward, forced back open with a slight shake of her head and a shift of position—she was fighting to keep herself awake.

Virginia said, "I think we should call an ambulance." Pneumonia was her main concern, which needed to be treated at a hospital.

Darla shook her head. "We can't afford it."

"You let me worry about that." Virginia patted Darla's hand as she pulled her radio from her belt. "18-Lincoln-23," she spoke into it.

"Go ahead, 18-Lincoln-23," the dispatcher responded.

"I need an ambulance at 43 79th Street West, apartment 202."

"Copy that, 18-Lincoln-23."

Darla's eyes were closed. Hoping to keep her awake, Virginia asked, "Where is Gerry?" She had heard he made probation but hadn't seen him since the day of his arrest.

Darla's eyes shot open as if she had forgotten she had company. "He has a job,"  she sputtered between spasms before shaking her head. "He doesn't talk much about it."

"That doesn't sound good," Virginia muttered as she looked around the tiny apartment. The walls were bright, looking recently painted. The furniture was sparse and outdated but well cared for, and the place was spotless. In Darla's current condition, it was unlikely she was the one cleaning up. A picture on the wall unit depicted a family with a much younger Darla, a preadolescent Gerry, and a man around Darla's age at the time of the photo.

"Is there a Mr. Smith?"

"Oh, no, dear. He left years ago."

No surprise there—it was the case with too many women in the neighborhood. "So, Gerry takes care of this place?"

Darla nodded, her eyes drifting downward.

Sirens echoed in the distance. Virginia touched Darla's forearm to rouse her. "They are on their way. Is there anything I can pack up for you?"

"You could pack up my slippers and nightgown from my room."

Virginia went to do that, filling a small bag with essentials found by the bed and in the bathroom.

Darla was fast asleep on the couch when she came out. Virginia wrote a note to Gerry, leaving it prominently on the coffee table. When the paramedics arrived, she told them her concerns. They agreed and got Darla up onto the gurney, strapping her in.

"I'll follow you," she said as they moved toward the doorway. Turning out all the lights and locking the door, she slipped the keys into Darla's bag and hurried to catch up to the two men working the stretcher down the one flight of stairs.

The hospital emergency room was crowded when they arrived. Virginia met up with the paramedics in the reception area, taking note of the number of people mulling about.

"Here, fill this out," the receptionist said roughly, handing Virginia a clipboard while the paramedics shifted Darla onto a hospital gurney and made their way back out to their next call.

"How long is the wait?"

"About two hours—welcome to the emergency room of today." Another arrival had her turning away, cutting off any further discussion.

Virginia looked over at Darla asleep on the gurney. Cursing under her breath, she called the captain to let him know where she was.

"You're not a babysitter, Virginia," he grumbled.

"I'm not leaving, not until her son gets here."

She filled out the paperwork to the best of her knowledge and handed it to the receptionist.

"No insurance?" the woman asked.

"I'm going to hunt down her application at Medi-Cal."

"Good luck with that." The receptionist tossed the clipboard to the top of a large pile of indistinguishable paper identities.

Virginia pulled a chair next to Darla's gurney and sat down. Darla's low moan had her back on her feet. She reached for Darla's hand, hoping she was aware enough to know she wasn't alone.

When it was finally her turn, the doctor took one listen to Darla's chest and suggested x-rays. They took the elevator up four floors, and Virginia found herself in another waiting room although a much less crowded one. Darla was wheeled up to a nurses' station further down the hallway. Minutes later, she was taken away, out of view.

Virginia sat down to wait.

Another hour had passed before a quiet voice behind her spoke, "Lieutenant Robins?" She turned to see Gerry standing at the entrance to the waiting room.

"Gerry, I'm glad you're here. Your mom has been taken to x-ray."

He looked heartbroken. "Is she going to be okay?"

She walked over and put her hands on his shoulders. "They will take good care of her."

A young nurse came down the hallway to tell Virginia they were admitting Darla. "Good thing you brought her in. We've put her in intensive care as a precaution, but once the antibiotics kick in, we'll be able to move her. Does she have any relatives?"

"This is her son, Gerry."

The nurse looked at Gerry with a smile. "Good. Come with me, there is a little more paperwork to fill out."

Gerry nodded at the nurse before grabbing Virginia's hand in a vigorous shake. "Thank you so much for bringing her here. I couldn't get her in to see a doctor."

She put her other hand over his to rein in his gusto and protect her shoulder from any permanent damage. "She'll get better now, Gerry. I'll come by tomorrow to check on you both."

He looked teary-eyed as he followed the nurse down the hall.

)l(

Darla had been moved out of intensive care within twenty-four hours and was now sitting up and chatting with staff as if she owned the place. The nurses loved her.

Dealing with the Department of Health Care Services hadn't been quite so easy. On Tuesday, Virginia had faxed over some requested paperwork. By Wednesday, she had been told twice that everything was fine with the application. On Thursday afternoon, it had been rejected. Frustrated and furious, she had called on her friends at the city, but being a state program, they told her there wasn't much they could do to help.

Friday morning found her planted at her desk with her head hanging down and fingers dug into her hair, rehearsing in her mind what she was going to say. Sitting up straight in her chair with a groan, she picked up the phone, dialed the number, and waited while fingers tapped nervously on the desk in front of her.

A very professional-sounding receptionist answered the call.

She blurted out her request before losing her nerve. "Governor Stan Mitchell, please. Tell him it is Lieutenant Robins of the LAPD. I met him recently when I was at the Governor's Arts Awards with Mark Spinelli, and I have a favor to ask of him."

Laughter wouldn't have surprised her, but the voice on the other end had no emotion as she was told to hold.

Way to throw his name around, she thought. Then she sighed a silent, Whatever. If it got results, it would be worth it.

Enduring the government's version of soothing music, she waited for five minutes and was about to give up, thinking it was a toss up as to which was more irritating, the music or the waiting. She bolted up in her chair when she suddenly heard his voice on the line saying, "Lieutenant, yes, I remember you. I apologize for the wait. What can I do for you?"

Virginia had the approval in her hand three hours later, back dated by four months to the original date of application. She arranged to be at the hospital for Darla's release in the early afternoon to drive her home. Darla was both surprised and grateful to have the application sorted out.

Gerry had been a no show since his arrival in the waiting room on Monday. With motherly pride, Darla told her he was working. Virginia hoped that he was true to his word; his mother deserved not to be disappointed.

She hugged the little woman goodbye after delivering her back to her living room. "Lock up behind me," Virginia reminded her.

"Of course, dear," she said.

Virginia listened for the locks sliding into place as she stood quietly on the other side. Looking down the decaying hallway, she decided to make a stop on her way out. On the first floor, she found the door marked SUPERINDENDANT and knocked.

Through the door came, "Get lost. I'm busy."

She pounded on it, not relenting until the door started opening.

"I said, get— Shiiiit" A man dressed in a dirty undershirt two sizes too small gave her the once over as he scratched at the naked gut hanging over a tired-looking belt. "You need to be gettin' in a room?"

"Nooo. I want the lock on the front door fixed, light bulbs replaced in the hallways, and that elevator in working order," she demanded.

He drew his chin in, looking like he was about to give her the brush-off.

She thought of Spinelli, knowing what he would do in this situation. Acting on the impulse, she stepped forward, smelling the alcohol that permeated from every pore in the man's body, the proof of its strength in the simple fact that it overpowered other odors he was surely giving off. Looking down at the pathetic excuse for a building manager, she quietly threatened, "I can have the city in here doing so many inspections you'll feel like you're in boot camp."

His eyes widened at the sobering intimidation.

"I'll be back in two weeks. Make sure everything is done."

"Yes, sir . . . ma'am."

She smiled sweetly. "The LAPD thanks you for your cooperation."

I like how Mark  influences her actions here, very similar to the way she is having an affect on him. I took this scene out because it didn't really advance the plot, besides proving Virginia is a good person, but we already knew that. My editor felt the same. I do love Gerry, and he does play an important role in the beginning of book two, but it just wasn't enough to justify the long chapter. You may notice a few familiar lines that were recycled to other parts of the book.😉  Reduce, reuse, recycle!