Rescue on the Run

by Jaycee Bullard

  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Ricky’s finger twitching on the trigger. At this close a distance, he wouldn’t miss.

  But before she could close her eyes to whisper another prayer, Cal lunged by her. Both men fell to the ground. As the two scuffled, Abby dove toward the gleaming metal reflected against the whiteness of the snow.

  Ricky was on top, and then Cal, each man fighting to gain the advantage. In the background, a wail of sirens cut through the air. Three squad cars with red lights blazing raced toward the lodge.

  Her fingers shook as they closed around the trigger. “Stop,” she said, pointing the pistol at Ricky’s chest. “Stop, or I’ll shoot.”

  Ricky turned to meet her stare, his dark eyes daring her to make good on her threat.

  The smirk slid from his face as an armed deputy reached her side. A second man joined him, and then a third. With four barrels fixed on him, Ricky raised his hands in surrender.

  And then it was all over.

  The nightmare had come to an end. Just like that.

  More police arrived at the scene. Ricky was handcuffed and shoved into the back of one squad car while Martina was shuffled into the back seat of another. An ambulance arrived, and Max and Tomas were loaded onto gurneys, both with gunshot wounds in the leg.

  For the moment at least, Cal was refusing to leave the scene and go to the hospital. The EMTs had strongly suggested that he rest in the ambulance while they applied temporary glue to his frayed stitches. But after twenty minutes of recuperation, he had insisted that he was needed to coordinate the situation on site. There was evidence to gather. A crime scene to preserve. And if she knew Sheriff Cal Stanek, it would be a thorough investigation because there was no way that Ricky was going to walk this time.

  One of the detectives, a tall, gangly kid with a buzz cut, took her arm and led her across the grounds. As she passed a group of police gathered by the dock, her eyes met Cal’s for one fleeting moment, lingering as they both acknowledged that there was still much to be said.

  And before she knew it, the baby was back in her arms, and she was being tucked onto a gurney in the back of a second ambulance that had just arrived.

  She felt relief. And gratitude. But also the inklings of something else. In that last glimpse of Cal, a new sort of feeling stirred in her heart.

  Something much deeper than friendship.

  But that was too much to think about just now.

  SIXTEEN

  Six hours later, lying on an examination table at North Memorial Medical Center, Cal rolled his neck against the back of his shoulders and readjusted his position. The doctor was sure taking her time signing off on his discharge. Not that he didn’t appreciate her thoroughness. But he had already spent more than two hours being poked and prodded and questioned and fawned over. Two hours undergoing X-rays and tests, suffering through the removal of his stitches, the sterilization of his bullet wound and the piercing sensation of clean sutures. At least this time, his skin had been numbed. But those two long hours had delayed his visit to the three people he most wanted to see.

  He flexed his leg as it dangled over the side of the table and released a pent-up sigh. “So, am I good to go, Doc?”

  Dr. Callie Lundgren looked up from her clipboard and frowned. “To tell you the truth, Sheriff, I’m not comfortable releasing you. A gunshot is a traumatic shock to the body. It’s a wonder that those stitches held up as well as they did. The paramedic who did the work probably saved your life.”

  He nodded. He knew all that. In fact, the paramedic was a big part of the reason he was so eager to get going.

  But the doctor hadn’t finished her lecture. “And I haven’t even mentioned the lump on the back of your head. I prefer to keep a patient with this type of injury twenty-four hours for observation to make sure that we aren’t dealing with a concussion.”

  He swiveled sideways and lowered his body down from the table. No way was he extending his hospital stay any longer than necessary. “Thanks, Doc, but I need to get out of here. I have a jail full of criminals who need to be processed. Not to mention a mountain of paperwork waiting on my desk.” He pointed to a set of crutches leaning against the wall and offered her his most charming smile. “If I promise to take it easy and stay off my leg, will you let me go?”

  For a moment, it seemed that she might refuse his request. She frowned and tapped her fingernails against the clipboard, studying his impatient stance.

  “While I can’t recommend you returning to work, I’m not about to tell the hero of Dagger Lake that he can’t leave the hospital. But remember that you need to go home and rest. Is there someone you can ask to stay with you and check on you every couple of hours to make sure you’re okay? You need to step back and let someone else take the lead on the investigation. Your deputies can handle things, at least for the next few days.”

  He raised his right hand in a mock salute as he backed out the door. “Will do. Thanks, Doc.”

  “And I want to see you back here in two weeks,” she called out after him.

  Crutches tucked under his arms, he shuffled down the corridor. The hall was wide and, for the time being, empty, and he was glad to have the opportunity to be alone. He needed time to think. The doctor was right. His body was craving rest. But despite everything, he didn’t feel sleepy. He felt restless. He felt excited. He felt alive.

  Being chased by hardened criminals across the countryside caused a man to reevaluate his priorities.

  Like this weekend. If he hadn’t stopped at the bank intending to cash his check, he would be holed up right now in a seven-by-nine-foot shack, line dangling into the water. And he still could be, if he wanted to. Although he had already phoned to explain his absence for the weekend, he knew that his Dad would be happy if he made a surprise appearance.

  But ice fishing was no longer at the top of his to-do list.

  Everything had changed the moment he realized he might lose the woman he loved.

  No, he knew exactly where he was headed. First, the hospital gift shop.

  He crutched along the first-floor hallway and entered the store. As the old saying went, this was the first day of the rest of his life. And he was eager to start living. Today was the beginning of something good.

  Cal made his way over to the flower display and studied the selection. As he had hoped, there were daffodils and roses, and he chose a dozen of each, pleased with his inside knowledge about flowers and their meaning. Daffodils for Isobel to celebrate her new beginning. Red and white roses for Abby to show honorable admiration.

  Well, maybe a bit more than admiration. If he was feeling brave.

  Tucking the bouquets under his arm, he hobbled up to the cash register at the front of the store. Kelly Kay, an acquaintance from church, was the clerk on duty, and she greeted him with a wide smile.

  “Sheriff! I’m so glad to see you up and about. It was all everyone was talking about after early-morning service. We were shocked to hear about poor Isobel delivering her baby in the back room of the bank. And you and Abby and the baby on the run from kidnappers. But thank the Lord that you all made it out alive. We’re all praying for you and Abby.”

  “Thanks, Kelly. I’m always grateful to receive extra prayers, and the Lord was sure listening.”

  “I heard that the bomb squad was still at the bank this morning?” The statement was phrased as a question as Kelly ran his credit card through the machine.

  He bit back a chuckle. Apparently, the rumor mill was operating at full force. “Yes, indeed. We had to call in the boys from Fargo to help remove the explosives. But it’s all clear now. It’ll be back to business as usual by Monday.”

  A relieved expression washed over her face as she handed him the receipt. “Well, I might be presuming too much, but I hope you’ll give Isobel and Abby my best when you see them.”

  “I will indeed.”
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  Now he just needed to find the location of Isobel and Abby’s rooms. He rubbed his jaw as he looked down the hallway for the help desk. His chin felt scruffy and rough beneath his fingers, and he realized just how mangy he must look. A day’s worth of stubble had turned his usually well-trimmed goatee into the beginnings of an unkempt beard. If that wasn’t bad enough, he was still dressed for ice fishing on the lake, his overalls still flapping in the spot where Abby had ripped them.

  He considered heading home to change into something more presentable but decided to seize the moment instead. Abby wouldn’t care about his clothes. Not after everything they had been through together.

  Noticing a bank of elevators at the end of the right corridor, he pointed his crutches in that direction, hoping the reception desk would be nearby. Sure enough, there it was at the end of the hall.

  “Good morning,” he said, flashing his badge to a tall, raven-haired woman in a leopard print blouse. “Can you tell me where I can find Abigail Marshall and Isobel Carrolls?”

  The young woman’s fingers flew across the keyboard of her computer.

  “Of course, Sheriff. Let me just see if I can find... Oh, here it is. Isobel Carrolls is in room three-oh-eight.” She didn’t look up as she scrolled down the screen. “But Abigail Marshall was treated and released a few hours ago.”

  He nodded his thanks and then headed toward the elevator. He pressed three and closed his eyes as he rode up the two flights to the third floor.

  All of a sudden, his heart was just a little less buoyant.

  He couldn’t help feeling a pang of disappointment, and, if he was being honest, maybe a little hurt. He had thought Abby would have stuck around long enough to make sure he was okay.

  But that wasn’t fair. She had been through a terrible ordeal and deserved to go home and get some sleep. Plus, she couldn’t have known what time he would arrive at the hospital. He had stuck around at the lodge for several hours after the ambulances left, helping the other officers gather evidence from the scene.

  He allowed his spirits to lift. He would swing by her house after he visited Isobel.

  The elevator shuddered to a stop, and the door opened. A sign directed him to the right, and he swung forward on his crutches and proceeded down the hall.

  The door to 308 was slightly ajar, and when he tapped gently, it swung open all the way. Isobel, dressed in a hospital gown, was lying on the bed. Her eyes were closed, and she was snoring softly.

  Slumped in the chair next to her was Abby. Also fast asleep.

  He pushed the door open wider and leaned in against the frame. Abby’s dark hair was pulled to the side, and her face was relaxed in repose. She had a pair of woolen slippers on her feet, and across her shoulders was a jacket with the words PROPERTY OF DAGGER LAKE SHERIFF DEPT stenciled down the sleeve.

  As he gazed at her, he could feel his eyes begin to blaze and a flush of warmth curl from his insides. He loved this woman. More than he ever thought possible. With all his heart and soul.

  He watched the steady rise and fall of her chest for a few more seconds, feeling his own heart beating in time with her breathing. Both women were exhausted and needed rest, and he didn’t want to disturb their slumber. But as he turned to make a quiet exit, he stumbled, and one of the crutches slipped from his grip.

  * * *

  The thud of something falling on to the floor woke Abby with a start. How odd was it that she had been thinking about Cal as she fell asleep? And, the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was the sheriff himself, standing in the doorway, with two bouquets of flowers in his arms?

  Was her heart playing tricks on her brain? She looked around the room and tried to blink away the confusing feeling that she was still a hostage at the bank. In the moment it took for her consciousness to adjust to reality, a kaleidoscope of images tumbled across her brain. Being escorted into the emergency room to be checked for hypothermia and shock. Retrieving a voice mail and hearing the long-awaited news that her adoption petition had been granted and that Davey Lightfoot would be coming to stay with her in a matter of days. That she would have a son. A family. And then, deciding to stay with Isobel in her hospital room. And now, seeing Cal limping toward her with daffodils and roses in his hands.

  A smile teased the corners of his mouth as he handed her a cellophane-covered package of flowers. “I was going to bring these to your room, but they told me you had been treated and released. How did you manage that? It must have taken a full dose of Abby Marshall charm to convince the nurses to let you bunk in here with Isobel.”

  “Thanks for the roses, Cal.” She bent to inhale the sweet scent of the bouquet. “What about you? I’m surprised that you aren’t a patient yourself, between that bullet wound and the blow you took to the head.”

  “Shh.” He pantomimed holding his finger to his lips. “I forgot to mention how that last part went down.” He cast his eyes over to where Isobel was sleeping on the bed. “How’s the new mom?”

  “She’s doing well, considering. The baby passed his initial assessments with flying colors, and that helped a lot. I think she’s still worried about Ricky, though. She told me she expects that he’ll be out on bail by tonight at the latest.”

  “That’s not going happen.” Cal set down his crutches and leaned against the railing of the bed. “There’s a whole busload of charges being leveled against him, not the least of which is attempted murder and kidnapping. And my sources tell me that Martina, Max and Tomas are showing signs they might be willing to turn state’s evidence as part of a plea deal. Even if they change their minds, we have three extremely reputable eyewitnesses who can testify to their criminal intent. Ricky is not squirming his way out of this one.”

  At the sound of her husband’s name, Isobel awoke with a start. “What did you say?” Her voice was slurred from sleep, but her face was tense and alert. “Was I dreaming, or were you just talking about Ricky?”

  “Hey. How’s it going? Where’s the little guy?” Cal smiled as he handed her the packet of bright yellow daffodils.

  “He’s in the nursery,” Isobel said. “Apparently, it’s standard procedure in cases like this. I’d feel a lot better about letting him out of my sight if I knew for sure that Ricky wasn’t about to appear at any moment, asserting his parental rights.”

  “You don’t need to worry about that. Last I heard, Ricky was being transported to Fargo under armed guard. Turns out, he is a very popular man. As soon as the word went out that we had him in custody, calls began pouring in from government agencies across the state. DEA. FBI. BTAF. Everyone wants a piece of him. The deputies at the office even had a surprise visit from a couple of guys from the Bureau of Homeland Security. Rest assured that the feds aren’t going to let this one drop. He’s going to be behind bars for a very long time.”

  Isobel’s face remained still for a moment, and then she nodded. “Thanks, Cal. That’s what I needed to hear. I believe that this time justice will finally be served.” She put her hand over her mouth to cover a yawn. “Now, if you two don’t mind, I think I better get some sleep before they bring Calvin Marshall Carrolls in for me to nurse.”

  Abby grinned. “That’s a mouthful, but I have to admit that I like the way it sounds.”

  Cal nodded, his eyes suddenly misty. “I’m honored to be your son’s namesake. It might not be easy for the little guy when he realizes that I’m going to be watching out for him, but that will happen whether he likes it or not.” He turned and offered Abby a sidelong glance. “What do you say to taking a walk down to the nursery and looking at baby Carrolls? Even though it’s only been a few hours, I’m missing him already.”

  Abby’s heart drummed in her chest as she followed Cal out the door. It was only a stroll along the hospital hallway, but somehow it felt like she was about to embark on something bigger. As the door swished closed behind them, Cal leaned against the wall to catch his
breath.

  “You okay, Cal?” she asked.

  “I’m fine.” He shook his head. “I didn’t expect to get that emotional back there in the room. And I have to say that little Cal should be honored to have ‘Marshall’ as his middle name.”

  “Aww.” She pretended to punch his arm. Maybe if she kept it light and jokey Cal wouldn’t realize that she was touched by Isobel’s gesture, as well.

  He shifted his weight on his crutches as they started down the hall. “I don’t know what else I could have said to make Isobel feel safe. Her husband is one bad dude. And he’s managed to walk before, so I understand her concern. But it’s not going to happen this time.”

  “I think she’ll feel better when she gets some sleep,” she said, slowing her gait as they approached the oversize window that overlooked the nursery. “But rest might be a hard thing to come by if that little guy has anything to say about it.” She pointed at the bassinet with the blue label marked “Carrolls Baby Boy,” where a red-faced infant with clenched fists was screaming with all his might. The nurse in charge waved them over to the door.

  “Hi, Abby,” the older woman greeted her warmly. “I’d ask if you want to hold him, but we just drew a sample of blood for the lab. So, at the moment, he’s not a happy camper. As soon as he calms down, I’m going to take him to see his mom.”

  “That’s okay. Cal and I just wanted to stop by and admire the little guy.”

  The nurse nodded and walked back inside.

  Cal eased forward on his crutches and fixed his eyes on the bassinet.

  “So,” he said, pausing just a moment to adjust his stance. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I reckon I owe you a couple of overdue apologies. I know that the two of us got off on the wrong foot when I first came to town, and I’ve never been happy about that.