by Nora Roberts
She was bleeding. In the turmoil of his mind he couldn't even form the prayer that she be alive. When he gathered her up, her body was weightless. For a moment, only a moment, he lost control enough to simply sit, rocking her. Slowly, with the terror clawing inside him, he began to drag her out.
Behind them was an inferno of unbearable heat and unspeakable greed. It was a matter of minutes, perhaps seconds, before what was still standing collapsed and buried them both. So he prayed, desperately, incoherently, while his shirt began to smoke.
He was ten feet beyond the building before he realized they were out. The ground around them was littered with steel and glass and still-smoldering wood. Every breath he took burned, but he fought his way to his feet, Abra in his arms, and managed another five yards before he collapsed with her.
Dimly, as if through a long, narrow tunnel, he heard the first sirens.
There was so much blood. Her hair was matted with it, and one arm of her shirt was soaked red. He kept calling to her as he wiped the worst of the grime and soot and blood from her face.
His hand was shaking as he reached out to touch the pulse in her throat. He never heard the last thundering crash behind him. But he felt the faint thready beat of her heart.
Chapter Twelve
Y ou need some attention, Mr. Johnson."
"That can wait." The panic was down to a grinding, deadly fear in the center of his gut. "Tell me about Abra. Where have you taken her?"
"Ms. Wilson is in the best of hands." The doctor was young, with wire-framed glasses and a shaggy head of dark hair. He'd been on the graveyard shift in the ER for a week and was looking forward to eight hours' sleep. "If you lose much more blood, you're going to pass out and save us all a lot of trouble."
Cody lifted him off his feet by the lapels of his coat and slammed him against the wall. "Tell me where she is."
"Mr. Johnson?"
Cody heard the voice behind him and ignored it as he stared into the eyes of the first-year resident. "Tell me where she is or you'll be bleeding."
The resident thought about calling for security, then decided against it. "She's being prepped for surgery. I don't know a great deal about her condition, but Dr. Bost is heading the surgical team, and he's the best."
Slowly Cody let him down, but he maintained the grip on his coat. "I want to see her."
"You can throw me up against the wall again," the young doctor said, though he sincerely hoped it wouldn't come to that, "but you're not going to be able to see her. She needs surgery. You're both lucky to be alive, Mr. Johnson. We're only trying to keep you that way."
"She's alive." Fear was burning his throat more than the smoke inhalation.
"She's alive." Cautiously the doctor reached up to remove Cody's hands. "Let me take care of you. As soon as she's out of surgery I'll come for you."
Cody looked down at his hands. Blood was already seeping through the bandage the ambulance attendant had fashioned. "Sorry."
"Don't mention it. From what the paramedics said, you've had a rough time. You've got a hole in your head, Mr. Johnson." He smiled, hoping charm would work. "I'll stitch it up for you."
"Excuse me." The man who had spoken earlier stepped forward and flashed a badge. "Lieutenant Asaro. I'd like to speak with you, Mr. Johnson."
"You want to speak with him while he's bleeding to death?" Feeling a bit more in control, the doctor pulled open a curtain and gestured toward an examining room. "Or would you like to wait until he's patched up?"
Asaro noticed a chair near the examining table. "Mind?"
"No." Cody sat on the table and peeled off what was left of his shirt. Both his torso and his back were lashed with burns and lacerations that made Asaro wince.
"Close call, I'd say."
Cody didn't respond as the doctor began to clean the gash at his temple.
"Mind telling me what you and Miss Wilson were doing out there at dawn?"
"Looking around." Cody sucked in his breath at the sting of the antiseptic. From a few rooms down came a high, keening scream. "She's the engineer on the job. I'm the architect."
"I got that much." Asaro opened his notebook. "Don't you figure you see enough of the place during the week?"
"We had our reasons for going tonight."
"I'm going to give you a shot," the doctor said, humming a little through his teeth as he worked. "Numb this up."
Cody merely nodded to the doctor. He didn't know if he could get any more numb. "Earlier this evening we were informed that there had been discrepancies on the job. Substandard materials used."
"I see. You were informed?"
"That's right." Cody divorced his mind from his body as the doctor competently stitched the wound. "I'm not going to name the source until I discuss it, but I'll tell you what I know."
Asaro set pencil to paper. "I'd appreciate it."
Cody went through it all-the discovery, the confrontation with Tim Thornway, the confession. His anger at the deception had faded. The only thing on his mind now was Abra. He continued, speaking of the car they had seen leaving the site, their assumption that it had been teenagers taking advantage of a lonely spot.
"You still think that?" Asaro asked.
"No." He felt the slight pull and tug on his hand as his flesh was sewed together. "I think somebody planted explosives in every building on that site and blew it all to hell. It's a lot tougher to identify substandard material when there's nothing much left of it.",
"Are you making an accusation, Mr. Johnson?"
"I'm stating a fact, lieutenant. Thornway panicked and had his project destroyed. He knew Abra and I were going to the building commissioner tomorrow if he didn't. Now we can bypass that."
"How so?"
“Because as soon as Abra's out of surgery I'm going to find him and I'm going to kill him." He flexed the fingers of his bandaged hand and was vaguely relieved when they moved. He spared the doctor a brief glance. "Finished?"
"Almost." The resident continued without breaking rhythm. "You've got some glass in your back and a few nice third-degree burns."
"That's an interesting story, Mr. Johnson." Asaro rose and pocketed his book. "I'm going to have it checked out. A little advice?" He didn't wait for Cody to answer. "You should be careful about making threats in front of a cop."
"Not a threat," Cody told him. He felt the sting as the resident removed another shard of glass. He welcomed it. "There's a woman upstairs who means more to me than anything in the world. You didn't see how she looked when we got her here." His stomach tightened, muscle by muscle. "You know her only crime, lieutenant? Feeling sorry enough for that bastard to give him a few hours to explain all of this to his wife. Instead, he might have killed her."
"One more question. Did Thornway know you were going to visit the site?"
"What difference does it make?"
"Humor me."
"No. It wasn't planned. I was restless." He broke off to press his fingers to his burning eyes. "I wanted to look at it, try to resign myself. Abra came with me."
"You ought to get yourself some rest, Mr. Johnson." Asaro nodded to the doctor. "I'll be in touch."
"We're going to check you in for a day or so, Mr. Johnson." The doctor wrapped the last burn before picking up a penlight to shine it in Cody's eyes. "I'll have the nurse give you something for the pain."
"No. I don't need a bed. I need to know what floor Abra's on."
"Take the bed, and I'll check on Miss Wilson." The look in Cody's eye had the resident holding up a hand. "Have it your way. You might not have noticed, but there are people around here who like my time and attention. Fifth-floor waiting room. Do yourself a favor," he said when Cody slid gingerly off the table. "Stop by the pharmacy." He scrawled a prescription on a pad, then ripped the sheet off. "Have this filled. Your being in pain's not going to help her."
"Thanks." Cody pocketed the prescription. "I mean it."
"I'd say anytime, but I'd be lying."
He didn't fill the
prescription, not because the pain wasn't grim but because he was afraid that whatever he took might knock him out.
The waiting room was familiar. He'd spent hours there with Abra only days before, while David Men-dez had been in surgery. Now it was Abra. He remembered how concerned she'd been, how kind. There was no one there now but himself.
Cody filled a large plastic cup with black coffee, scalded his already-raw throat with it and began to pace. If he could have risked leaving her alone for a time, he would have gone then to find Thornway, to pull him out of that nice white house and beat his face to a pulp on that well-groomed lawn.
For money, Cody thought as he downed the rest of the burning coffee. Abra was lying on an operating table fighting for her life, and the reason was money. Crushing the cup in his hand, he hurled it across the room. The pain that tore through his shoulder had him swearing in frustration.
She'd screamed for him. Cody dragged a hand over his face as the memory of the sound ripped through him every bit as savagely as the glass. She'd screamed for him, but he hadn't been fast enough.
Why had she been alone in there? Why hadn't he sent her back to the car? Why hadn't he simply taken her home?
Why? There were a dozen whys, but none of the answers changed the fact that Abra was hurt and he was-
"Cody." Her hair mussed and her face drawn, Jessie ran into the room. "Good God, Cody, what happened? What happened to Abra?" She took his hands, not noticing the bandage as she squeezed. "They said there was an accident at the site. But it's Sunday morning. Why would she be out there on Sunday morning?"
"Jessie." Barlow hurried in behind her to take her hand and lead her to a chair. "Give him a chance. You can see the boy's been hurt."
Jessie's lip was trembling, and she had to bite it to steady it. She saw the bandages and the burns, and she saw the look on his face, which spoke more clearly than words of shock and fear. "Dear Lord, Cody, what happened? They said she's in surgery."
"You sit, too." Taking charge, Barlow eased Cody into a chair. "I'm going to get us all some coffee here, and you take your time."
"I don't know how she is. They wouldn't let me see her." He was going to break down, he realized, if he didn't find something to hold on to. Reaction had taken its time seeping through, but now it struck like an iron fist. "She's alive," he said. It was almost a prayer. "When I pulled her out, she was alive."
"Pulled her out?" Jessie held the cup Barlow urged on her with both hands. Still, the coffee swayed and trembled. "Pulled her out of what?"
"I was outside, on my way back. Abra was in the building when it exploded."
"Exploded?" The coffee slipped out of her hands and onto the floor.
"The fire went up so fast." He could see it, he could feel it. As he sat in the chair, in his mind he was still back in the building, blinded by smoke and searching for her. "I got through, but I couldn't find her. The place was coming down. There must have been more than one charge. She was trapped under the rubble, but when I got her out she was alive."
Barlow put a hand on Jessie's arm to calm her, and to quiet her. "I want you to take it slow, Cody. Start at the beginning."
It was like a dream now. The pain did that, and the fear. He started with the call from Carmen Mendez and continued until they had wheeled Abra, unconscious, away from him.
"I should have pushed him," Cody murmured. "I should have picked up the phone and called the authorities myself. But he was drunk and pitiful and we wanted to give him a chance to salvage something. If I hadn't wanted to go out there, to look at it, to-I don't know, soothe my pride?-she wouldn't be hurt."
"You went in after her." Jessie rubbed the heels of her hands hard over her face. "You risked your life to save hers."
"I have no life without her."
The time for tears would have to wait. She rose to take his hand. "You know, most of us never find anyone who loves us that much. She's always needed it, and I always fell short. You're not going to lose her."
"I don't suppose you'd listen to an old man and stretch out on the couch over there?" When Cody shook his head, Barlow stood. "Thought not. Got to make a few phone calls. Won't be long."
So they waited. Cody watched the clock as the minutes ticked by. When Nathan and Jackie came in ahead of Barlow an hour later, he was too numb to be surprised.
"Oh, honey…" Jackie went to him immediately, her small, sharp-featured face alive with concern. "We heard almost as soon as the plane touched down. What can we do?"
He shook his head but held on. It helped somehow just to hold on to someone who knew him. "She's in surgery."
"I know. Mr. Barlow explained everything out in the hall. We won't talk about it now. We'll just wait."
Nathan dropped a hand on his shoulder. "I wish we could have gotten here sooner. If it helps any, Thorn-way's already been picked up."
Cody's eyes focused, then hardened. "How do you know?"
"Barlow did some checking. The police went by to question him. The minute he was told that you and Abra had been in the explosion he fell apart."
"It doesn't matter." Cody stood up and went to the window. It didn't matter whether Thornway was in jail or in hell. Abra was in surgery, and every second was an eternity.
Nathan started forward, but Jackie laid a hand on his arm. "Let me," she murmured. She stepped up quietly beside him, waiting for him to gather his control. "She's the engineer, isn't she?"
"Yeah. She's the engineer."
"And I don't have to ask if you love her."
"I haven't even told her." He laid his forehead on the glass because he was tempted to punch his fist through it. "It was never the right time or the right place. Jack, when I pulled her out-" He needed another minute to force himself to say it out loud. "When I pulled her out, I thought she was dead."
"She wasn't. She isn't." She laid a hand gently on his wrist. "I know I have this rotten optimism that can be annoying, but I don't believe you're going to lose her. When she's better, are you getting married?"
"Yeah. She doesn't know that, either. I have to talk her into it."
"You're a good talker, Cody." She touched his cheek, then turned his head so that she could study his face. He was deadly pale, with bruises under eyes that were still swollen and red-rimmed from smoke. "You look terrible. How many stitches?"
"Didn't count."
She turned over his hands, barely managing to suppress a shudder. "Did they give you something for the pain?"
"Some prescription." Absently he touched his pocket.
"Which you didn't fill." At least this was something she could do, Jackie decided, plucking it out of his pocket. "I'm going down to have it filled now, and when I bring it up you're going to take it."
"I don't want-"
"You don't want to mess with me," Jackie told him. She kissed his cheek before she strode out of the waiting room.
He took the pills to placate her, then drank the coffeepot dry to offset the drowsiness. Another hour passed, and then another. His pain dulled to a throb, and his fear sharpened.
He recognized the doctor as the same one who had operated on Mendez. Bost came in, swept a glance over the group huddled in chairs and couches and approached Jessie.
"You're Mrs. Barlow, Miss Wilson's mother?"
"Yes." She wanted to rise but found her legs wouldn't straighten. Instead she put one hand in her husband's and the other in Cody's. "Please, tell me."
"She's out of surgery. Your daughter hasn't regained consciousness yet, and she's lost a great deal of blood. We were able to stop the hemorrhaging. She has some broken ribs, but fortunately her lungs weren't damaged. Her arm was broken in two places, and she has a hairline fracture below the right knee."
Foolishly Jessie remembered kissing scraped elbows and knees to make them better. "But they'll heal?"
"Yes. Mrs. Barlow, we're going to do a series of X rays and a Cat scan.''
"Brain damage?" Cody felt his blood dry up. "Are you saying she has brain damage?"
"She suffered a severe blow to the head. These tests are standard. I know they sound ominous, but they're our best defense against whatever other injuries she may have."
"When will you have the results?" Jessie asked.
"We'll run the tests this afternoon. They'll take a couple of hours."
"I want to see her." Cody stood, sending Jessie a brief, apologetic glance. "I have to see her."
"I know."
"She won't be awake," the doctor explained. "And you'll have to keep it brief."
"Just let me see her."
He wasn't sure what was worse-all those hours of speculation or the actuality of seeing her lying so still, so pale, with bruises standing out so harshly on her cheeks and the tubes hooking her to a line of impersonal machines.
He took her hand, and it was cool. But he could feel the pulse beating in her wrist, echoed by the monitors next to her.
There was no privacy here. She would hate that, he thought. Only a wall of glass separated her from the quiet movement of nurses and technicians in ICU. They'd given her a bed gown, something white with faded blue flowers. He resented the idea that dozens of others had worn it before.
She was so pale.
His mind kept leaping back to that, though he tried to fix it on other, inconsequential things. The faded gown, the beep of the monitors, the hush of crepe soles on the tiles beyond the glass.
Where was she? he wondered as he sat and kept her hand in his through the bars on the sides of the bed. He didn't want her to get too far away. He didn't know what to say to bring her closer.
"They won't let me stay, Red, but I'll be hanging around in the waiting room until you wake up. Make it soon." He rubbed a hand absently over his chest as it tightened. "You came through okay. They want to take some more tests, but they don't amount to much. You've got a nasty bump on the head, that's all."
Please, God, let that be all.
He fell silent again, counting the monotonous beeps of the monitors.
