by Janice Sims
There was silence for a full thirty seconds, then a tremulous voice from within proclaimed, “You have the wrong room, there is no Augustine Rush here!”
Pete whispered, “He’s not gonna try that, is he?”
“Then open the door and show us some ID to that effect, and we’ll gladly leave you alone,” said Ten. His gun was already drawn. Rush had killed his colleague with a handgun. He could very well still have it on him.
“Wait a minute,” said the voice. “I have to put on some clothes.”
Inside the room, Augustine Rush, a slight, dark-haired, middle-aged man who always looked in need of a shave, tried to pry open the window, but it hadn’t been opened in such a long time it was difficult to do so, plus it squeaked loudly. Try as he might, the window wouldn’t open sufficiently enough to climb out of it. So in a panic, he threw a chair through it.
Ten and Pete heard the clear sound of the impact of the chair hitting the window and the breaking glass. Ten kicked the door in. Pete went in low and was greeted with Rush’s back end as the physicist scampered through the opening where the window had been. Pete went after him. Ten went after Pete.
Rush didn’t get far. Carrie and Eduardo were on the landing just below the fire escape waiting for him. He saw them as he was climbing down, and began climbing back up. He had a handgun wedged in his waistband. He took it out and pointed it at Pete. His hand was shaking so badly, Pete thought it best to freeze. Ten’s feet had just hit the steel of the fire escape when Rush cried, “I’m not going to prison. I’d die in there. I’d rather die here.” And he put the gun to his right temple and tried to pull the trigger.
Ten couldn’t believe it. Another instance of the safety still being on.
Rush figured it out quickly, though. He flicked the release with his thumb and tried again. By that time, Pete had grabbed his gun hand, pointed the weapon toward the night sky, and delivered a punch to the physicist’s soft belly. Rush struggled with the strength of a desperate man. Suddenly the gun went off and the round caught Ten in the left shoulder. The sound of the report must have sobered Rush because he abruptly stopped fighting Pete, who got the gun out of his grasp and knocked the physicist onto the ground.
“Scientists,” muttered Ten, clutching his shoulder. “They’re more dangerous than bank robbers.”
Pete called down to Carrie and Eduardo, “Get an ambulance, Ten’s been shot.”
Ten’s been shot. Those three words struck terror in Lana’s heart when, a few minutes later, Pete phoned her with the news.
* * *
Lana made record time getting to San Francisco General. When she got there, Pete was waiting for her out front as he’d said he would be. He escorted her upstairs to the operating room’s waiting area where Carrie and Eduardo already were.
Carrie came to her and hugged her. “Hey, girl, get that panicked look off your face, he’s going to be okay.”
After Carrie let her go Lana forced a smile for the tall blonde, breathed in and let it out in a long exhale. “Logically I knew this day might come, but I still wasn’t prepared for how nerve-racking it is realizing Ten could have been killed.”
“I know,” said Carrie sympathetically. She led Lana over to the couch where she had been sitting with Eduardo. Lana said hello to Eduardo, who gave her a smile and reached for her hand. She gave it to him and he squeezed it reassuringly. “It’s just a shoulder wound. Ten has been through worse.”
Her mind went back to that inch-long raised scar on his side just above his waist. He hadn’t volunteered any information about it, and she hadn’t asked, but she’d certainly noticed it. “You mean that scar he has?”
Eduardo’s dark eyes met hers. “He didn’t tell you how he got it?”
Lana shook her head. “I’m getting the feeling he wants to protect me from the violent side of his job.”
“Well, maybe I shouldn’t tell you,” said Eduardo out of loyalty to Ten.
Lana glared at him. “Tell me, Eduardo!”
Eduardo looked to Carrie for support, but Carrie just shrugged. “It’ll keep her mind occupied while we’re waiting to hear how the surgery went.”
Eduardo sighed. “Okay, so seven years ago, we—Ten and I, this was before Pete and Carrie joined the team—were investigating a kidnapping. A man in his twenties had snatched a seventeen-year-old from her high school’s grounds. She’d been communicating with him online. Thought it was harmless fun. He became obsessed with her. She made the mistake of giving him details about her life. She thought she was being safe by not actually giving him her name and address. But she told him which school she attended and was naive enough to send him a recent photo.”
Lana was watching Eduardo intently, hanging on his every word. Ten had told her stories about some of his cases but he hadn’t mentioned this one.
“One afternoon, as soon as school was out, he was waiting on the curb in a van that he’d equipped with restraints. I’m sure he’d gone over it in his mind many times—snatch the girl, kicking and screaming. It didn’t matter because he was a big guy and could easily handle her. He wasn’t concerned about some student coming to her rescue because people are basically afraid of crazies. They try to avoid being a victim themselves so they generally give them a wide berth. And it unfolded exactly as he envisioned it. He grabbed her from in the midst of several hundred students eager to get home from school, threw her in the van, locked her in the shackles, which he’d bolted to the floor of the van, and sped off.”
“Oh, my God,” said Lana amazed by the man’s boldness.
“He was single-minded,” Eduardo commented. “Jacob Lee Caan.”
When he said the name, Lana remembered. Jacob Lee Caan was now serving a life sentence in prison. The girl he’d kidnapped, Amy Roberts, had been rescued three days after he’d taken her. One of the agents had been stabbed by Caan during the rescue and had nearly died from the wound.
She’d seen a report on TV but the name of the agent had escaped her memory as soon as she’d finished watching it. Or perhaps Ten’s name had never been mentioned.
The FBI liked a certain amount of anonymity.
She let Eduardo finish telling the story because she wanted to hear the details.
“Where did he take her?” she asked softly.
“Now, there, his preparation for the crime was flawed,” Eduardo said with a smile. “This being his first kidnapping, he didn’t realize that to keep someone against their will for any length of time required a place where you could be sure she wouldn’t be heard or seen by nosy neighbors. Caan lived in a neighborhood that had seen better days but there were still good honest people there. Such a family lived next door. The mother of the family had always been wary of him. Anyway, while he was away from the house the woman next door heard a banging on Caan’s basement window. Their kitchen window faced his basement window. Somehow the victim, Amy Roberts, had gotten loose but couldn’t get out of the door, which was securely bolted. So she started banging on the basement window with everything she had. The neighbor woman ran over there and saw the poor girl and ran back home to phone the police. Unfortunately, she didn’t make it because Caan returned just in time to see her running away from the window, caught her and knocked her out and dragged her downstairs to his basement, too. Now he had two hostages.”
Lana’s face filled with horror.
“But by that time, from eyewitness descriptions of Caan and his van, we’d narrowed it down to two persons—him and some other guy who’d recently been released from prison and had an MO quite similar to how Caan had snatched Amy Roberts. One team was checking out the other guy’s address. Ten and I were checking out Caan’s. Apparently we got there a couple hours after he’d thrown the neighbor in with Amy Roberts. He pretended to be cooperating with us, answered all our questions; even offered us refreshments. Before answering the door, he’d taken
the time to gag and tie up the two females in his basement.”
“Well, how did you suspect he was the guy?” Lana was anxious to know.
Eduardo smiled slowly. “Ten is very observant. While we were standing in the living room, he noticed a woman’s shoe lying under a table. He casually asked Caan if the woman of the house was at home. Caan, who was sweating by now, said he lived alone. ‘Then whose shoe is that?’ Ten asked. Caan took on the appearance of a cornered rat and tried to run. He got as far as the kitchen before Ten grabbed him. When he turned around Ten saw a butcher’s knife in his hand, but it was too late, Caan rammed the knife into his side. I rounded the corner and put a bullet in Caan’s shoulder right about the spot where Ten got shot tonight. I cuffed him, and then called for backup. The women were freed, but Ten spent hours in the operating room because the blade had punctured his lung.”
“That must have taken a while to heal,” Lana said. And she’d tried to run him to death. She felt bad for that stunt all over again.
“It took months for him to get a clean bill of health from his doctor, but he came back strong as ever. You know him, he’s in great shape,” Eduardo told her.
Ten’s doctor came into the waiting room and all four of them got to their feet. She wore her natural hair in dreadlocks and had a pair of black-framed glasses perched on her nose. “Are you the family of Tennison Isles?” she asked.
Lana stepped forward. “Ten doesn’t have any family in town. I’m his girlfriend and these are his friends.”
The doctor held out her hand, “Hello.” She smiled at Lana. “I’m Dr. Katharine Samuels. Tennison came through the operation with no complications. He’s expected to make a full recovery. Right now he’s waking up, and you should be able to see him in a few minutes. I’ll send a nurse out to get you.”
Lana had listened without interrupting. She pumped the doctor’s hand. “Thank you, Dr. Samuels. Thank you so much!”
Katharine Samuels smiled again and said, “Just doing my job. You folks take care.”
And she was gone.
The team was all smiles when Lana turned back around to face them.
“I told you he’d be fine,” Carrie said.
“He’s the man of steel,” Pete quipped.
“Solid as a rock,” Eduardo agreed.
After a beat, Eduardo said, “Well, we’re going to head out, Lana. Tell Ten we’ll drop in and check on him tomorrow and to get some rest.”
Carrie hugged her briefly. “Just giving you some private time,” she said for Lana’s ears only. Lana suspected she was explaining their behavior because she was a newbie to their circle. She was grateful for their thoughtfulness. She didn’t want to burst out crying in front of them and, the way she felt right now, emotional and relieved that Ten had pulled through the operation, she just might turn on the waterworks.
Sure, Eduardo had assured her a shoulder wound was nothing compared to other injuries Ten had endured. But what did Eduardo know? People had gone into the operating room and not been able to be revived from the anesthesia. Any number of disasters could have occurred.
After the agents had gone, leaving her alone in the waiting room, she raised her eyes heavenward, and said, “Thank You, God.”
* * *
Ten smiled at her when she walked into the recovery room. They’d bandaged him and put him in a green hospital gown. Being such a big man he looked out of place in that small bed. The moment she saw his face, she started crying.
“Do I look that bad?” he asked, still smiling.
Lana went to him and grasped his hand in hers. She was afraid to hug him for fear she’d hurt him. But she placed his hand on her cheek, and then she turned her face and kissed his palm. “No, you look wonderful, gorgeous and alive!”
Ten chuckled. “Yes, I’m alive, my love, and I plan to stay that way for a long time.”
A nurse bustled in and said, “I’m sorry, miss, but Mr. Isles needs to get some rest now. You can come back tomorrow during regular visiting hours.”
Disappointed, Lana cried, “Visiting hours are over?”
“I’m afraid so,” said the nurse nicely but firmly.
Lana clung to Ten’s hand. “I’ll be here first thing in the morning.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” said Ten.
Lana reluctantly let go of his hand. She bent and kissed his forehead.
“Oh, no,” Ten protested, “the forehead kiss this early in our relationship. Are things going downhill already?”
Lana smiled and gently kissed his lips. “Better?”
Dimples showed in his cheeks. “Much better, thank you.”
Chapter 14
Ten was advised by Dr. Samuels to stay home from work for at least four weeks. But after he returned to work, he would still have to avoid heavy lifting for another two months before his shoulder would be fully healed.
Lana enjoyed spoiling him and practically moved into his apartment while he was recovering. She had been there waiting for him when he’d gotten home from the hospital. As they lounged lazily intertwined on the couch, the doorbell rang at around two in the afternoon.
“Are you expecting anyone?” Lana asked as she rose to go see who was there.
“No,” said Ten, puzzled. “I haven’t even ordered anything recently.”
Lana went to the side window and moved the curtain aside. From that angle she could see an elderly couple standing on the portico, suitcases at their sides.
“Do Jehovah’s Witnesses carry huge suitcases around with them?” she asked Ten.
The African-American couple both had gray hair. The woman was a foot shorter than the man, and both seemed fit and healthy and were dressed casually.
“Open the door and see, sweetheart,” said Ten from the couch.
Lana opened the door, a warm smile on her face. “Hello,” she said, “how can I help you?”
The woman laughed. “Are you Lana?” she asked, her brown eyes twinkling with merriment. Those eyes—Lana recognized them anywhere. They were Ten’s eyes.
Lana swung the door open wider. “Yes,” she answered the woman. “I’m Lana, and you’re Mrs. Isles, aren’t you?”
Ten heard this and immediately tried to get up without disturbing his wound. Dr. Samuels had said any sudden movements might make the stitches come apart. The pain was immediate so he thought it best to behave himself and he sat back down.
“Mom?” he called.
“Yes, I am,” Portia Isles answered Lana, a grin on her face. “And this is Ten’s father, Ben.” Lana loved her Southern-accented voice.
Benjamin Isles inclined his curly head in Lana’s direction, “A pleasure, Lana.” He was nearly as tall as his son and his skin color was close to Ten’s as well, a deep golden-brown, whereas his wife had dark-chocolate skin that looked smooth, silky and extremely youthful for a woman in her seventies. Ten had told her his mother was seventy-three and his father was seventy-eight.
“Come in, come in,” Lana cried, embarrassed that she’d been frozen in her tracks for a few moments. But it wasn’t every day your boyfriend’s parents showed up out of the blue. She went to grab one of the suitcases but Ben told her, “I’ve got those.” And he picked them up as though they weighed next to nothing.
Portia went straight to her baby boy on the couch. Ben stepped into the foyer, put down the suitcases and then followed Lana into the living room.
By the time the two of them entered the room, Portia was fluffing up the pillows behind Ten’s back. “Mom, Dad, why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I would’ve had you picked up at the airport.”
“That’s why,” Portia said as she moved around the couch, and sat down beside her son. “We didn’t want to put you to any trouble. You already went and got yourself shot!”
“It wasn’t
as if I invited the perp to take a potshot at me,” Ten said with a laugh. “Tell her, Dad.”
His father sat down on an accent chair across from his son and his wife. Lana went and perched on the arm of the sofa on the opposite side of Ten so that he was now flanked by his mother and Lana.
“Now, Portia,” Ben said soothingly to his wife, “you’ve been here less than five minutes. Give the boy a break.”
“Anyway,” Portia said, pointedly not offering up an apology for her opinion, “when are you going to introduce us to Lana?”
Ten laughed again. “I distinctly heard you introduce yourself to her a minute ago,” he said, “but as a formal introduction—Lana, please meet my parents, Portia and Benjamin Isles of Danville, Virginia. Mom and Dad, this is Lana Braithwaite-Corday.”
“I’m pleased to meet you both,” Lana said, smiling at Portia and Ben. “Ten has told me so many wonderful things about you.”
“Such as?” Portia asked, eyeing Lana with amusement.
“Mom, behave,” Ten told her sternly. “Lana, my mother has a habit of mercilessly teasing people she likes and she obviously took one look at you and decided she likes you. So feel free to give as good as you get from her. Otherwise she’ll think she intimidates you.”
Portia harrumphed. “Giving my secrets away already. He must really like you, Lana.”
Lana smiled. “I’m glad because I really like him,” she said. She could tell that she was going to have to stay alert around Portia Isles.
Ten cleared his throat. “Mom, Dad, you’ve been here before. You know where the guest room is—make yourselves at home. Are you hungry? Want a drink?”
Ben spoke up, “No, son, we’re fine. I, for one, could use a little nap after that plane ride, though. Come on, Portia. Put your man to bed.”
In their absence Lana said, “But they just got here.”
Ten laughed softly. “Sweetie, that’s just Dad’s way of getting Mom alone so he can reprimand her in private. I’ve never known those two to argue in front of anyone. There was something she did that got his goat, as he used to describe anyone making him angry, and he wants to discuss it with her. My mom is the talkative one, outgoing and often the center of attention. My dad’s quiet, reflective and incapable of raising his voice. They’re total opposites.”
