Pursuits Unknown

by Ellen Clary

  “Of course not. Do you know how much inquiry there is going to be over this? Lie down here, Amy,” Steve said in his I’m-serious-now voice.

  Mary guided and half-pushed her onto the stretcher, with the medic’s and Steve’s help.

  They put a blanket over her and secured her to the stretcher.

  They gave her a saline IV and awkwardly strapped the bag in place.

  “Okay, Amy, we’re going to carry you out to where the helicopter is, and then we’re taking you home.”

  “Lars.”

  “He’s right here,” Mary said.

  Steve said, “He helped find you.”

  Mary was trying to keep Lars from jumping up on her chest.

  Amy reached out and buried her hand in the furry kelpie.

  “I am so happy to see you.” Her tears flowed freely now.

  He licked her face in return.

  LATER, IN the hospital room, Catherine entered, holding a flower vase with a yellow rose, some baby’s breath, and a fern. “Hi, Amy. I hope you like these. I wanted to arrange it better, but I also wanted to get in to see you as soon as they would let me.”

  “Catherine,” Amy said flatly.

  “How are you doing?”

  “I have been better honestly.”

  “I want you know that I’m putting you on medical leave for three weeks.”

  “But—”

  “And during that time, you’re going to be talking to a counselor at length.”

  “You think there’s something wrong with me?”

  “You doctors tell me that rest is how you treat a concussion, and to be blunt, this entire experience would screw anyone up, so you need to talk to a professional of your choice.”

  Amy looked disconsolately at nothing and said, with nearly no animation, “Beth didn’t have to kill him.”

  Catherine inhaled, sighed, and waited a beat. “She told our snipers not to fire unless it was clear he was starting to pull the trigger. The sensors in their scopes can measure when a finger is tightening. Even with that, she tells me she was taking a huge chance, as handgun trigger pressures vary.

  “Your mom was there, and she would have killed me herself if you had been shot.”

  Catherine paused to let that sink in. Amy looked out the window, tears in her eyes. She was so tired of crying.

  “Your mom is going to be talking to someone, too. She nearly lost her daughter, and that has her pretty shook, as I’m sure you know.”

  “Sessions together?”

  “It’s up to you both, and the therapists. Likely a session or two can be done with you both if it would help, but this is mostly helping you work through being put in this terrible situation.”

  Belatedly remembering she had forgotten to ask, Amy’s head lifted. “Did Art get out okay?”

  “Art’s fine. The rescue crew found Lars dutifully stationed beside the mine shaft. Art fractured a couple of fingers, and has black, blue, and other colors of bruises, but otherwise, he’ll be okay.”

  Amy sighed. “Glad to hear it, and good boy, Lars.”

  Catherine put her hand on Amy’s arm. “I am so very sorry this happened.”

  “Yeah, I’ve had better days. Can Lars come up?”

  “He sure can, but he’ll have to be escorted so he doesn’t unplug you from anything.”

  Amy laughed. “That he might. I’m glad this isn’t life support.”

  Catherine smiled. “They probably would not have let him come in that case.”

  Amy sighed. “Survived nearly being shot, but accidentally unplugged by an enthusiastic kelpie.”

  CHAPTER 15:

  Amy Speaks with Charlene and Then John

  ONCE SHE was released from the hospital with her leg and facial cuts bandaged, she sat on the river bank hugging her knees, looking over the river at the park near Central. Lars was checking out the aspen and oak trees for what he considered local news by carefully sniffing the urine on the trunks, and adding his own. Amy ignored him, preferring to watch the dark water slide slowly by, the occasional leaf surfing along to an unknown destiny. A tear was tracking down the side of her cheek, and she suddenly sniffed and wiped her face. As she continued her vigil, the tear would reappear. She could feel an emotional edge she wasn’t familiar with—that teetering on a precipice where she didn’t know the other side. Could it be more pain? Fear? Insanity? or just a deep darkness that she wouldn’t be able to escape? She considered the edge, but just watched it. She didn’t have the energy to look closer, much less to consider crossing it.

  Amy had been around death before. Sometimes their searches ended with a lifeless body, but she had never had someone killed while holding her. Even though he was threatening her life, and Beth and others said he was in the process of pulling the trigger of the gun at her head, she felt like some of her life energy went with Randall when he died. The bond that Randall said they shared was completely his invention, but his being shot while touching her and feeling his body jerk, twisting back lifeless, robbed her of something that she couldn’t identity.

  Something brushed her side and she started, realizing that it was Lars rubbing up against her, shoving his head under one of her arms until she gave in and petted him. He looked up at her with a concerned expression on his face. She had never considered the kelpie boy to be that emotionally deep, but this experience was impacting him as well.

  Lars looked up and woo-wooed in greeting. Amy glanced up and saw her long-time friend Charlene approaching. Charlene sat down next to her and said, “You look like you need a beer.”

  Shaking her head and trying to smile while looking back out over the river, Amy said, “Yes, but right now, if I started with one beer, I’d never stop.”

  Putting her hand on Amy’s shoulder, Charlene said, “I could probably stop you, but I can’t stop how much this whole thing sucks for you.”

  Amy leaned into her. “Oh gods, Char, this has been so awful—and I didn’t even know the guy.”

  Charlene hugged her. “Trite as it sounds, I’m here for you.”

  Speaking to the ground, Amy said, “That’s what the counselor says.”

  Tightening the hug, Charlene said, “Yeah, but I’m here longer than fifty minutes.”

  Amy laughed and started to cry again. Charlene rubbed her back. “I know you don’t want to hear this: you will get through this, but it’s going to hurt for a while.”

  Still talking to the ground, Amy said, “They’re offering me medication. I feel like a loser if I take it.”

  “Oh, Amy.” Charlene shook her a little, laughing. “No one is requiring you to be in horrible pain. Consider taking it for a little while. I took meds for a while after my dad died.”

  Looking back over at her, Amy asked, “Did they help?”

  Inhaling and doing a partial nod, the ghost of a painful memory crossing her face, Charlene said, “Some yes, it took the edge off and got me out of this crazy blaming-myself cycle, as if I could save him from a terminal disease.”

  “You mean you couldn’t?” Amy asked with that same half-smile.

  Charlene punched her lightly in the arm. “No, that was your job. Superwoman.”

  Amy made an exasperated noise like “pfffbt” and held up her hand, flicking her fingers outward.

  They sat and just watched the river for a while.

  AMY WALKED into John’s place using her keycode. He slouched on the sofa watching football on TV and drinking a beer. Amy thought it was a little out of character, because he wasn’t a rabid football fan, but then again, he did watch it occasionally. Then she noticed that the beer was a cheap domestic one, which was completely strange. She looked more carefully at him. He was sunk halfway down on the sofa with one leg up on the arm, almost half-lying on it. His brow was lower than usual and his lips had a pouty expression that she’d seen before when there was something on his mind.

  Amy went into the kitchen and got herself a glass of water. She returned and waited for a commercial break, then switched the
TV off. He started, surprised, as if he was in a completely different place in his mind. Sitting down on the sofa, arm propped on the back and facing him, she asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

  He replied, “I don’t know what to talk about, it’s not like I can change anything.”

  “You can still talk about how you feel.”

  Speaking out to the TV he said, “Powerless, impotent, you name it. The great LAI agent nearly gets shot and killed by some jackass, and I’m not even allowed to be there.”

  “Well it’s not like they invite the public to hostage situations.”

  “You mother was there.”

  “My mother can move mountains with the strings she can pull, and she very nearly regretted being there. Besides you would have just tried to kick Randall’s ass.”

  “You bet I would.”

  “Which probably doesn’t make for good negotiations.”

  John grabbed her hand, staring at it while he spoke. “You could have been just as dead regardless.”

  Amy stroked his curly hair that was sticking out sideways. On good days, their hair was similar. On days like this, his more resembled a shaken mop. He did have a point, she thought.

  His eyes were moist as he stroked her hand. “Do you really need to do this LAI stuff? Seems far away from studying psychology.”

  “There are similarities, and it’s not like I get kidnapped every day.”

  “Once was plenty.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  Suddenly he was looking directly at her. “Amy, you could have died out there.”

  She took a breath, centering herself. “Aside from crazy kidnappers, I love the work. I love the job. Who else gets to run around with their dog, finding people and getting paid for it?”

  John started to make a noise in his throat. Amy put a hand on his shoulder. Tapping his head, she said, “And they’re paying for my schooling, which if I finish, means I can do something else.”

  John looked unconvinced, but slightly mollified.

  Leaning into him, she said, “Could you hold me?”

  He pulled her close to him and put both arms around her. She relaxed, put her head on his chest, and sighed. “There’s something about the kidnapping that I haven’t told you yet, as I haven’t really figured out what it means to me.”

  She could feel him shift some, but he kept holding her. “Go on,” he said. She thought he was trying not to sound worried.

  “After I had shoved us both down a hill to keep him from shooting at Steve and the officer, I got the concussion and was feeling pretty fuzzy. We were lying there resting after running and stumbling for cover.” She paused considering then decided to just say it. “He was starting to come on to me.”

  John sat right up, nearly dumping her off the sofa. “Rape! What the fff—”

  Amy grabbed both his arms. “Wait! He didn’t.”

  “Because you kicked his nuts in?”

  “I wish. No, a search drone showed up. I was lucky—I don’t think I would have been able to stop him because I was feeling pretty awful.”

  John kneeled in front of her and hugged her tightly. “Oh babe, I want to kill him myself all over again.”

  She blinked back tears, laughed a little, and relaxed into his arms. “John, that’s so weirdly sweet of you.” Then she took a breath and started to cry for real as John stroked her head. Her body shook with pent-up tension, as if trying to throw the past few days off.

  They rocked together for a few minutes. “I know we don’t always agree on things, John, but I do love you.”

  These kinds of things seemed to leave John at a loss for words, but he gamely said, “Me, too.”

  CHAPTER 16:

  The Fourth Car

  AMY CAME charging into the LAI office.

  Steve looked up, startled. “Amy. What the hell? You’re on leave.”

  “Who owned the fourth car?” she said, flopping onto her chair.

  “What fourth car? And get out of here,” Steve said, trying to go back to what he was working on, but he kept looking back to her.

  “Herman and Lincoln’s case.”

  “Oh, the stolen data unit case?”

  “Yes, unless you have a second Herman and Lincoln.”

  “What about it?”

  “The car, who owned the fourth car?”

  Steve turned around and looked at her. “Amy, really, you need to go relax and chill out. Why couldn’t you just message me?”

  “I will if you will humor me, and this way you can’t ignore me.”

  Steve sighed. “You promise you will go away?”

  “I swear I won’t be in your sight for a long time.”

  Steve tapped out a request on his computer, then mumbled into his headset and peered at the screen.

  “It’s completely boring, why did you make a special trip?”

  Amy got out of her chair, walked over to his desk, and poked him in the ribs, trying to read past him. He held her back. “Hang on, I’ll read it to you. It was a company car that had just done a delivery in the area. We verified and the driver was on a break.”

  Amy was nearly standing up with impatience. “The company. What was the company?”

  Steve looked closer. “Applied Sciences.”

  “Randall talked about fence companies that had generic names like United, Allied, or Applied.”

  Looking concerned, Steve put a hand on her shoulder when she mentioned the dead kidnapper’s name. “Amy, I think you’re getting worked up about this for no reason. We checked into it.”

  “How much? What if it’s a company with a legit front to cover up that their main business is selling stolen data?”

  He turned to face her. “What if you got too much sun on your mountain sojourn?”

  Breaking his gaze, she said, “Stop it, I’m being serious.”

  “I am too, Amy.”

  “What do we know about Applied Sciences?”

  Steve, with that “I give up” look, called out, “Harris, what did we learn about Applied Sciences?”

  “The company doing a delivery?”

  “Yes, our little sunstroke victim here is just dying to know,” Steve said, trying to provoke a reaction.

  Amy pushed at him with both hands. “Seems like your sensitivity only goes so far.”

  Crossing his arms, he said, “It runs out with my patience with impulsive people who don’t listen to advice.”

  Harris read from his screen.

  Allied Sciences Solutions

  Turn-key Build-in-place Laboratory Solutions

  Science Delivered

  When silence greeted him, Harris went on to say, “What they mean is basically a lab-in-a-box with builders, too.”

  Turning back to her, Steve said, “Happy?”

  Amy said, after a pause, “No. Can we put them under surveillance?”

  Steve threw up a hand. “And look for what?”

  “Stolen data units.”

  “Sure, they’ll be right in front in the display window.”

  “We have the scent of the person that took them. Maybe we could wander around there.”

  “Maybe we could do something more useful with our time.”

  Amy said, “It’s the fourth car; we’ve eliminated the other ones.”

  “I think we might have missed something,” Steve said in a serious, placating tone.

  “I think we should check into this more thoroughly.”

  “I think you should go surfing with John.”

  “I think I will, but think about this.”

  “Okay, Amy, go away now.”

  Giving him a brief hug, she said, “Bye for now.”

  “Bye, bye, Amy.”

  CHAPTER 17:

  Amy Considers the Fourth Driver

  AMY SAT on her board just past the break zone of the waves, looking out at the immense ocean and feeling a peace from it—her smallness in complete contrast with its enormity. It would be relatively easy for it to throw her onto the rocks wi
thout even noticing, yet it seemed quite happy to let her perch on its top, much like the oxpecker birds that ride around on top of rhinos.

  John had just caught a wave and was headed in, but she didn’t feel any urgency to stand up amongst the whitewater-edged swells right now. Partly because it took quite a bit of duck-diving through the breakers to get out and she was a little tired, and also because she was trying to get used to the fish shortboard, which was a present from John. She had mentioned that she was interested in transitioning from her old, reliable, stable, nine-foot longboard to something that could play in the surf more, turn quicker, and be able to handle steeper waves. John told her that the seven-foot fish was a good transition board. It didn’t even look like a surfboard really; while it had a pointy front tip, it was fairly wide and at the tail end had a horizontal V cut inward. It was sort of like a fish, but not really in her mind. Maybe if she had a fish eye stenciled on its blue-green with pink highlights, it might work.

  So she sat drifting just past the lineup of the other surfers, looking out towards the horizon at the approaching lumps that would become sets of surfable waves. The swells rolled under her, turning into pounding whitewater as they approached the shore.

  The sun gazed through the light clouds over the ocean. A pelican and a couple of cormorants searched for fish nearby over the greenish-blue, almost brown seawater, floating on the air and then diving steeply down, aiming for what they thought was a fish—the cormorants disappearing for so long that one would think they had drowned. Off on the horizon, in that fuzzy grey-blue area where it’s difficult to tell the water from the air, a massive migrating flock of shearwaters flapped southward, undulating like an on-sea ribbon.

  She was trying not to think about work and instead just enjoy the downtime, but she couldn’t stop thinking about that fourth driver in the Allied company car. Was it possible that the lab-in-a-box people were more than that, and how could she find out—legally and safely? She didn’t want to take any further risks. It was only now sinking in that her kidnapper, Randall, really was going to kill her (and likely himself, too, if others hadn’t done it for him). She really had no idea how he managed to change from seeing her as a hostage to something to love or lust for. That day was mostly a fuzzy blur.