“Yes, well, that was the point.”
He squatted in front of her. His hair was damp and his clothes appeared heavy, darkened with the icy rainstorm. But he didn’t shiver. Strange. He must be frozen solid.
“If you had just listened.” He brushed her hair aside. “I thought this warning was loud enough, but you are stubborn.” His chuckle boiled the acid in her stomach. “We thought your mother could convince you. Turn your eyes away. But then Ms. Nelson became antsy. Her patience was never strong. The fire…your friend saw us together that night…and, well, here we are.”
“You won’t get away with this. Georgie…Mac won’t let you get away with any of this.”
“Well,” he said as he stood. “I don’t believe they have a choice in the matter.” He raised the gun, aiming it at her head. “Now, at least Georgie will be free of you. If I can’t have your father’s money, she should have it all to herself.”
Charlotte squeezed her eyelids shut. One…two… three…
The blast of gunfire rippled through her.
43
She waited for the searing pain. But no new pain emerged. Shouts rang in her ears.
Anton?
Vsevolod?
Others yelling for help. A bus?
Special Agent Murphy?
She lifted her eyelids. Murphy was running towards her with O’Neal close behind.
Murphy knelt beside her. Flipping a pocketknife open, he sliced the restraint at her ankles and the second at her wrists.
Aching warmth burned her fingertips and toes. She pressed her palm against the floor. Pain rocketed through her frame and she slithered into the fetal position. “Georgie?” she asked.
Murphy’s lips stretched to reveal bright white teeth. “She’ll be fine. We need to get you to the hospital.”
Swallowing against the sandpaper lodged in her throat, she nodded. “How did you find…” A fog began to shroud her mind. She needed to know. Her mind fought her body. And her body was winning. Her eyelids felt like twenty-pound dumbbells and she didn’t have the strength to lift a feather. She let them win, content to fall asleep on the hard, damp floor. Tremors rattled her frame, as arms slid under her knees and around her back. She seemed to float upward. Her cheek felt a warm, strong chest. An angel? Perhaps she had died, and God had answered her prayer. She was headed to heaven. Tugging against the unseen weight holding down her eyelids, she squinted. The sight of Mac’s salt and pepper beard shattered the dam of tears welling in her chest. “It’s you. You’re my angel.”
His lips brushed against her aching forehead. He squeezed her tight to him. A wave of peace washed over her. A smile tugged at her lips as the veiled fog engulfed her.
~*~
Mac swallowed against the mix of burning rage and tender relief as he wrapped Charlie closer to his chest. After being threatened by Sheriff Cambry with disbarment, Mac watched helplessly from behind the barricade of squad cars and a SWAT van surrounding the abandoned church Georgie had hoped to transform into a music and arts education center. The takedown was over in less than a minute, but the sound of the single gunshot reverberated through his frame and aged him at least twenty years.
Thankfully, only one shot was necessary to subdue the scene. A pair of medics dressed Cole’s shoulder wound under Murphy’s watchful stare.
Mac clutched Charlie tighter.
Anton Dorokhov struggled against the handcuffs Dylan tightened at his wrists and the thug with them shouted something in Russian over and over.
The medical examiner arrived only moments after the mixed force of SLED, FBI, and county sheriff deputies cleared the area. Efficiently, she commanded the scene surrounding Charlotte’s assistant, having two other medical examiners shift Bridget’s lifeless form into a waiting county morgue body bag. Mac imagined the former assistant would have an autopsy, but unfortunately the cause of death wouldn’t be able to explain the chatty blonde’s reason for undermining and infiltrating Watershed.
How could he have missed what was happening at the company? Cole had started work as an SFA over a year ago, right as Bent’s health truly began to decline. The young man had been so eager and adept, Mac quickly trusted him with a vast array of accounts and the financials for multiple subsidiaries. He was blinded by goodwill and his own need to focus on saying goodbye to his dear friend. If Mac hadn’t seen Cole handcuffed to the gurney with his own eyes, he would have struggled to believe Stasi’s convoluted story. The fact that Charlie’s mother was the linchpin in solving the embezzlement scheme and rescuing her daughter from certain death was beyond surreal.
Charlie shivered in his arms, releasing a soft moan. The metallic emergency blanket crinkled in his hands as he tightened his embrace. The twinkle of colored moonlight reflected off of the blanket, tugging his gaze to the massive stained-glass windows echoing a history steeped in faith. The moon glowed through the colored glass. The evening’s storm had passed. He tucked the shiny blanket tighter around her, praying his body heat would help to warm her chilled frame.
“We need to treat her, sir.” A medic, with cheeks ruddy from the cold stood above Mac.
Mac nodded and willed his arms to loosen their hold on Charlotte’s frail form.
The two paramedics lowered her to a back board and secured her neck with a cervical collar before sliding her onto the gurney for transport. Back to the hospital. Again. Her poor body had endured almost as much trauma as her spirit in the last two months.
Help me Lord. I am failing to protect the one person I have come to cherish most on this planet. What am I supposed to do?
“Do you want to ride with us?” the young medic asked.
Mac glanced at Dylan, who followed the two sheriffs escorting Dorokhov and his associate out of the building. Murphy’s wide leg stance and narrowed stare never wavered from Vasil. Justice was being served.
He nodded and took one large step into the back of the ambulance.
44
“Georgie, she needs to rest. You need to rest. I’ll stay with her.” Mac’s whispered voice floated through Charlotte’s mind.
“I agree, Georgie. You’ve only been out of the hospital a day yourself. You need to be cautious,” Savvy said. “Remember what the doctor said. Rest. Fluid. More rest. Darlin’, you could have died out there in that cellar.”
“Yes, I’m aware I could’ve died. Thank you for reminding me for the thousandth time, Aunt Savvy. But I’m not dead. And, I’m not leaving. You want to leave, go for it, but I am not leaving my sister again. Ever.”
Charlotte chuckled. A rattling cough wracked her frame. But there was blissfully no pain. How was that possible?
“You’re awake.”
Charlotte blinked. Clearing her vision, she caught sight of the greenish blue bruise stretched across Georgie’s high boned cheek. “Oh, Georgie.” Tears flooded her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“Hush.” Georgie gripped Charlotte’s right hand. “This is no one’s fault except Cole and his posse.”
“But…” Charlotte swallowed against the dryness consuming her mouth. “You could have died.”
“You are as bad as Savvy. Yes, I am fully aware I could have died. But I didn’t. See…” She stood tall and twirled; her twisted, sandy-blonde locks cascading like a waterfall over her shoulder. She stretched her wide mouth to a grin. “Fully alive. Mobile. And in one piece.”
“Thank God.” Agent Murphy’s deep voice resonated in the tiny hospital room. He leaned against the open door.
The smile Charlotte thought she’d dreamed, tugged the corners of his mouth.
Georgie took two steps into his waiting embrace, tucking her head under his chin. “I didn’t think you believed in God.”
“You are evidence of the divine, Miss Dixon.”
Charlotte shook her head. How long had she been asleep?
“It’s been building for a while,” Savvy said, as she rested a hip on Charlotte’s bed. “You would have thought the two were super glued together the last few days.”<
br />
“How long? What happened? I can’t…” Charlotte’s tried to focus, but her brain felt as if it was filled with twenty bags of cotton balls.
“There, there, dear. Mac was right. Rude though the boy was.” Savvy lifted an eyebrow toward Mac who leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his own eyebrow raised in rebuttal.
“We should leave you to rest.” She patted Charlotte’s hand. “The details. The ‘who, what, when, where, and why’…well, those can just be discussed another day. Can’t they, Special Agent Murphy?”
“I asked you to call me Cade, ma’am.”
“And I asked you to leave my nieces alone. We don’t always get what we want, do we?”
“Aunt Savvy!” Georgie exclaimed.
Murphy simply tugged Georgie tighter to his chest.
“Well, you’ll leave poor Charlotte alone.” Savvy squeezed Charlotte’s hand and stood. Slipping her square pocketbook to her elbow, she said. “Now, all of you get out. We can see she’s quite on the mend. However, my darling niece needs her rest and she won’t be shutting those eyes again if any of you are loitering.” She leaned down, gave Charlotte a wink and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I’m so glad you came back to us, my dear. You had this old heart worried.” With a soft pat to Charlotte’s cheek, Savvy turned. “Let’s go. I have a pot of beef stew in the crockpot waiting to be eaten.”
Georgie gave a little wave, still tucked neatly to Murphy’s side. His smile fell to a straight-lined grimace as the two turned and headed into the hallway.
“And then there was one…” Charlotte said. Tilting her head she took in the lean form of Mac Taylor lounging against the wall. With his arms crossed over his worn college sweatshirt and his legs draped in decades’ old jeans, he looked ready to paint his bathroom, not about to give her the stinging lecture she knew she deserved. Shoving away from the wall he moved toward her bed.
“I know I should have told you about the ransom note. Baba asked the tea ladies and they said I should try and figure it out on my own. I didn’t read it until after you left. But still I was wrong.”
Arms crossed, he stepped to the side of her bed but remained silent.
Charlotte felt tears stream over her cheeks. “I wanted to tell you. I just didn’t know what to do. I’ve messed up everything. I shouldn’t have come to South Carolina. I should have never accepted the terms of the will. Georgie would have all of the money and none of Mama’s ‘friends’ would ever have tried to cash in on my inheritance.”
He leaned forward, placing a hand on either side of her head, and lowered his lips to hers. The touch was soft, barely a kiss, and yet sent bolting electricity through her veins. If the lights went out she could power the city for a month.
Lifting his lips, he rested his forehead against hers, and she felt warmth splash against her cheek. Tears. His. Not hers.
“I thought…” He dragged a deep breath through taut lips. “I thought I’d lost you. The whole way home from Charleston, I must have dialed your number a hundred times and in my gut, I knew something was wrong. You needed me and I didn’t know how to get to you. How to help you.”
“You aren’t mad at me?” She lifted her hand to stroke his neck.
“Oh, yeah. I’m supremely angry with you.” He said, his lips stretching to a grin. Leaning back, he rested his hip on the side of her bed and reached for her hand. “However, I’ve decided to shelve my anger until you are home from the hospital and the entire situation is resolved.”
“What is the situation? I think I know only half of the puzzle. How did they find me? Cole works for Anton? Bridget works for Cole? Oh, Mac, Bridget…” The tears she thought she’d dammed flooded her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. “He shot her. It was so fast. The smell was awful. I remember shooting skeet when I was young, but the smell was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. She trusted them, him. How could he do it?”
“Let me get this straight. You are crying…for Bridget? The assistant whom I watched make your blood boil simply by walking into a room? Bridget, who we now know has been conspiring to embezzle money from your company? Bridget, who allegedly lit fire to your house and likely caused Remy to be in a coma? You are upset for that Bridget?”
“I’m saddened for her. She placed her trust in them. Was it wrong? Of course. But my heart still feels for her. She was betrayed.” She swiped her cheeks. “Has anyone claimed her body?”
“I don’t know.”
“If they can’t find her family, I’d like to give her a funeral or at least a small service.”
“Are you serious? Charlie, she nearly killed you.”
“I know. But she didn’t. Everyone deserves someone to celebrate their life even if her life wasn’t worthy of a celebration.” Charlotte released a sigh. Her eyelids slid shut.
~*~
Five days after her rescue, Charlotte sat with her hospital bed as erect as possible, alone for the first time. The absent pain she’d questioned days earlier had arrived nearly twenty hours ago when she insisted on being removed from a morphine drip. Although she hated the non-stop aches and occasional shooting pain, she wanted, needed, her mind clear of the opioid induced fog when she talked to Special Agents Murphy and O’Neal.
Both had stopped for social visits over the last few days. Neither asked any questions regarding her capture. But she suspected their restraint was Mac-orchestrated.
Each time she woke, he was in the room. Sitting in the chair by her bed, holding her hand or hunched over his laptop, pounding out emails. He chatted with her. Brought her contraband food. Watched romantic comedies with her. Kissed her.
Unlike the first day she woke, he was always dressed ready to do battle in a court of law or preside over the boardroom, but his new accessory of worry seemed to have etched permanent lines on his beautiful forehead. He’d told her yesterday he would be late this morning, his lips drawn in a tight line. She knew he hated being away from her side for even a moment. She wished she had an answer to allay his concern. She also was trying to figure out how to tell him about her encounter, or rather, encounters, with God.
From the prayers said over her by Baba to the ones written for her by her father to the one she silently screamed moments before she thought she was going to die, her heart ached with the transcendence of her new relationship with God.
The creak of the door opening pulled her focus. The corner of her mouth curved. The smell of vanilla and cinnamon announced her sister.
“Well, look at you all clear-eyed and upright.” Georgie hustled to her side, kissing her cheek. “I brought you some of Savvy’s and Mellie’s cinnamon-sugar scones.”
“Hide those until I get all her vitals recorded.” Her morning nurse, Sally, followed Georgie into the room. She lifted the lid of the leftover Christmas tin. “Those are definitely not on her diet. But they just might be on mine.”
Sally was quickly becoming one of Charlotte’s favorites in the hospital. The doctors tended to be too clinical. No personal dialogue. They were rightly focused on patching her up and sending her home. The nurses were more frequent visitors, in and out of the room multiple times a day, often once an hour. And since Sally worked days, she’d been with Charlotte during nearly all of her awake hours. In the rare moments Charlotte didn’t have a visitor, Sally had made a point to spend time with her. Not simply medical time, but truly caring about her well-being.
“Oh, no. I didn’t mean to break any rules. Mac said he’s been bringing you treats all week,” Georgie said.
“Don’t let her worry you, Georgie. The nurses appreciate Mac’s illegal food. I believe they have a running buffet in the breakroom.” Charlotte winced with the tightening of the blood pressure cuff. She liked her clear mind, but she was coming to understand how people could so easily become addicted to pain-free living.
Sally tsked. “Now if the ibuprofen-only is too much, you ask for pain meds. There’s no use in suffering. Too much pain will only impede your healing.”
“And not eno
ugh will impede my thinking,” Charlotte said.
Sally completed the twice daily vitals check and made notes in the wall-mounted computer. The nurse asked Charlotte to rate her pain. She couldn’t help but glance at her sister who was scrolling through some app on her phone. The purple bruises were slowly fading from her delicate features. Georgie may not be in the hospital, but her pain level must still be high. Regardless of the physical pain, the mental pain of betrayal would run deep for years to come.
Charlotte mouthed a seven.
Sally nodded and typed her response into the computer but left the white board notation blank. “Well, ladies I will leave you to your illegal baked goods. But make note, I counted the number and anticipate an overabundance from you two skinny-minis.” Sally shut the door behind her, leaving the sisters in the whitewashed silence of a hospital room mid-morning.
Georgie lifted her gaze to meet Charlotte.
“Why the sad face, Georgie?”
Georgie shrugged.
“Not an answer.” Charlotte patted the bed. Her sister scooted in beside her, cuddling to seek comfort she needed. Comfort Charlotte regretted she hadn’t provided her entire life. But regrets were for history. She was determined to give her family all the love she’d withheld, showering them to the point of sticky sweetness and greeting card schmaltz. “Come on, Georgie. Today is not the day to find your shy gene.”
She puffed a sigh, flapping Charlotte’s hospital gown. “I just can’t believe I was so trusting. So gullible.”
Cole.
Charlotte knew the majority of the story. Taking the bits she’d heard whispered while she faded in and out of consciousness, she connected them with her own pieces and nearly completed the entire puzzle of the last year. The hardest connector piece was knowing the man her sister trusted as a dear friend was actually the mastermind behind the atrocities connected to her mother.
Girls of Summer Page 23
