by Debby Giusti
“You’ve got ten minutes. Tell me now or tell me never.”
“I’ll never tell you anything. The cops will find you and bring you to justice.”
“Cops?” He raised his brow. “Or your boyfriend, Frank?”
Her heart lodged in her throat. “He doesn’t know anything.”
“Of course he does. You gave him the digital card. After I leave the building, I’ll go back to his sister’s house and wait for him there.”
“No.” She struggled to free herself.
He turned for the door. All she heard were his footfalls on the old oak floor and his laughter.
Lord, save me. Save Frank.
TWENTY-TWO
Frank left Fort Rickman and increased his speed. River Road wove along the water and led to the older section of downtown Freemont, where the bus station was located. Hopefully Evelyn had phoned Colleen to warn her.
He tried again. All he got was her voice mail.
“Call me, Colleen. Don’t leave Freemont. You’re in danger.”
Which she had been all along. Frank hadn’t been able to protect her. He hadn’t been there when she’d confronted Trey. Now someone else was after her.
“Steve Nelson is part of the operation in Atlanta,” he relayed to her voice mail. “Watch out. I’ll be at the bus station in less than five minutes. Stay safe.”
After disconnecting, he called Freemont police.
“Head to the old part of Freemont around the bus station. Apprehend anyone wearing an American Construction Company T-shirt or driving one of their vehicles.”
He threw the phone on the dashboard and gripped the steering wheel. Pushing down on the accelerator, he willed his truck to go faster. The stretch of road had never seemed so long and so winding.
Frank had been wrong about Colleen. How could he ever prove himself to her?
Lord, forgive me. Lead me to Colleen.
The outskirts of Freemont appeared in the distance.
Although traffic was light, Frank didn’t want to stop at intersections in the downtown area. Instead, he remained on River Road. A side street, farther north, would lead to the bus station.
He passed the first of a row of warehouses on his left. The tornado had damaged a portion of the old brick facades on the formidable structures with historic charm.
In days past, boats would unload their wares, and the goods would be stored in the warehouses until wagons transported them to local markets. He didn’t have time to bemoan the destruction of a treasure from the past. He needed to find Colleen.
Passing the second building, something caught his eye. He glanced left.
A utility truck sat parked next to a side door.
He stared for half a heartbeat at the company name painted on the van’s side panel.
American Construction.
Frank turned the wheel and screeched into the narrow alleyway. He braked to a stop and hit the pavement running.
The big burly guy sat at the wheel. Frank threw open the door. He grabbed Steve’s arm and yanked him to the pavement.
The guy reached for the gun tucked in his waistband.
Frank kicked it out of his hand.
“Where is she?”
“You’ll never get to her in time.” The big guy lunged. His fist jammed into Frank’s side, close to his incision.
Air whooshed from his lungs. He doubled over.
Steve stumbled back and grabbed his own gun.
He took aim. “Your girlfriend dies in five minutes, but you die now.”
Duke leaped, and his teeth sank into Steve’s arm. He screamed with pain. The gun fell from his hand and slid under the van.
The dog didn’t let go. Steve toppled backward. His head crashed against the pavement. Gasping in pain, he backpedaled. “Get...the dog...off me.”
Sirens sounded nearby.
“Duke, guard.” The dog bared his teeth and hovered over Steve. Once big and strong, the construction worker looked like a blubbering baby as he covered his face with his hands and cried.
Frank ran into the warehouse. Shadows played over the expansive area inside. Cobwebs tangled around central support beams and wove their way to the ceiling rafters.
“Colleen!” Her name echoed across the scarred oak floors and bounced off windows fogged with decades of dirt.
Where was she?
Please, God.
He checked his watch. How much time did he have?
Five minutes max.
“Colleen?”
He raced forward. An enclosed office sat in the middle of the giant empty space.
He shoved the door open. A library table, overturned chairs. Two bookcases.
A sound.
Another door.
He turned the knob. The door creaked as it opened. An antique safe stood against the far wall. The room was so dark and so confined that he almost missed the pile of bedding in the corner.
A rustle of movement. Another moan.
He pulled back the blanket and gasped in relief.
Colleen.
Blood matted her beautiful hair and stained the mattress on which she lay. She’d suffered another blow in the same spot. Three strikes.
“I’m here, honey. I’ll get you free.”
“Explosives...detonate...”
“I know. We don’t have much time.” Using his pocketknife, he cut through the plastic ties that secured her hands and feet.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and helped her to her feet. She faltered.
Half supporting her, half carrying her, he ushered her through the office.
“We have to hurry,” he warned.
Sirens sounded outside. Pulsating lights flashed through the filthy windows.
The side door opened. A cop started inside.
“Stay back,” Frank shouted. “It’s ready to blow.”
His side screamed with pain, but he had to save Colleen. She staggered beside him.
Glancing at his watch, his heart lurched. No more time.
“Run.” He pushed her toward the open door. She had to get to safety.
The cop grabbed her hand and tugged her through the doorway.
“Take cover,” Frank screamed.
He followed her to the threshold of the door. The police had backed off. The cop was ushering Colleen away from the building. She turned, searching for Frank.
Her scream was lost in the blast.
Duke ran toward him.
Frank put up his hand to stop his faithful dog just as an avalanche of bricks started to fall.
Afghanistan. The IED.
Duke wouldn’t be able to rescue him this time.
But Frank had saved Colleen.
She was alive.
Nothing else mattered.
* * *
“Frank,” Colleen screamed.
She fought her way free from the cop who had pulled her from the building. He’d held her back and kept her from Frank.
Duke bounded onto the fallen bricks, the dust thick.
He barked, then sniffed the pile of debris that covered the doorway where Frank had stood seconds earlier.
Now he lay buried beneath the rubble.
She raced forward and clawed at the bricks. Duke dug with his paws, neither of them making progress.
Frank had to be alive. She wouldn’t give up hope.
Please God, save him.
Policemen swarmed around them. They shoved aside pieces of brick and piles of dirt that came down with the building.
“Frank, hold on. We’ll get you out.”
Only she didn’t know if he could hear her.
Duke barked. If anything, Frank would hear his trusty dog.
A large beam stretched across the fallen rubble, forming a protective pocket.
If only—
Colleen peered into the opening and glimpsed a hand.
She reached to touch him. Cold. Lifeless.
“Don’t leave me, Frank.”
His fingers moved.
“He’s alive,” she shouted. “Hurry.”
In a matter of seconds, the cops removed the remaining bricks covering the opening.
Frank’s face. Swollen, battered, scraped and bleeding. His eyes shut.
“Watch his neck.”
A backboard. They hoisted him carefully onto the wooden brace.
The cops hustled him toward the ambulance.
An EMT approached Colleen and pointed to her forehead. “Ma’am, you need to be examined.”
He helped her into the ambulance where two EMTS worked on Frank. She sat opposite them and took his hand. She wouldn’t let go.
Duke climbed in beside her.
The doors closed, and the ambulance took off, siren screaming.
Colleen couldn’t stop watching the rise and fall of Frank’s chest. He was breathing. He was alive, but just barely.
TWENTY-THREE
Although his prognosis wasn’t good, Colleen was so grateful Frank was still alive. His condition was critical when he was raced into the Fort Rickman Hospital emergency room yesterday.
An entire medical team had worked on him in the trauma room until a bed opened in the ICU. Since then, he’d been hooked to wires that monitored his pulse, oxygen level, heart rate and blood pressure.
The occasional beep and the thrust and pull of the medical machinery made Colleen even more anxious about his condition.
She’d sat by his side throughout the night. Evelyn said she would stay, but fatigue had increased her limp and her eyes lacked their usual sparkle. She had been worried about Ron. Now her concern was for her brother.
“Go home, Evelyn. Sleep. You can spell me in the morning,” Colleen had told her.
Civilians weren’t usually treated at military hospitals, but one of the emergency room docs had checked Colleen over. Another slight concussion. Her third. The doc laughed as he said that she’d struck out. At least he didn’t seem overly concerned, especially since she planned to stay the night at Frank’s bedside.
The RN on duty had provided blankets and showed her how the vinyl chair extended into a semiflat position. Colleen had tried to sleep, but with the constant flow of medical caregivers who checked on Frank, she’d dozed off only a few times and then not for long.
The morning-shift nurse had provided a sealed plastic container of toiletries that included a toothbrush and comb. Colleen had given up trying to bring order to her matted hair and had used a rubber band to pull her unruly locks into a makeshift bun that at least got the curly strands out of her face.
Since first light, she’d hovered close to Frank’s bedside, watching in case his eyes opened. She’d prayed throughout the night that God, who heard all, would answer her request and restore Frank to health.
“If he does respond,” the doctors cautioned, “a full recovery will take time.”
She sighed as the weight of that one comment sank in. If he recovered? A full recovery will take time? How long?
It didn’t matter. She’d wait forever, if Frank wanted her to stay. That was the problem. She didn’t know what he wanted.
She glanced at the floor, wishing Duke were with her. The military doctors hadn’t been as welcoming as the EMTs in the ambulance had been. As soon as Ron and Evelyn arrived at the hospital, they’d been instructed to take the dog home.
A knock sounded. The door to Frank’s room opened, and a man in uniform entered. He was tall with a full face and gentle smile.
“I’m Major Hughes, one of the chaplains on post.”
“Thank you for coming.”
He glanced at Frank. “Mind if I say a prayer?”
She rose from the chair. “Of course not. Yours might bring better results than mine.”
“You’ve had a long night. The nurse told me you’ve been at his bedside.”
“Praying.” She tried to smile, but tears filled her eyes. She didn’t want to cry in front of the chaplain.
He reached for her hand. “God knows our hearts. He responds. Although sometimes he’s not as timely as we’d want.”
“That’s what worries me.”
“We need to trust.”
She nodded. Her weak suit, especially when it came to Frank. “He’s a good man. Compassionate, caring, but he’s been through so much.”
“I was told a war injury and multiple surgeries followed by a life-threatening infection.”
Colleen nodded. How much could someone endure? “He ignored his own condition to help me. I...I made a mistake and wasn’t completely forthright.”
She turned her head and bit her lip.
The chaplain patted her shoulder. “Our limitations are always easier to see in hindsight. When we’re in the middle of a stressful situation, our vision is often cloudy. The Lord is a God of forgiveness. You can trust him.” He glanced at Frank. “I have a feeling you can trust Special Agent Gallagher, as well.”
Buoyed by the chaplain’s words, she folded her hands and bowed her head as he prayed, knowing God was in charge. He was the Divine Physician who would return Frank to health.
That was her hope.
That was her prayer.
* * *
Someone patted Frank’s arm. He heard voices and tried to comprehend what they were saying.
“I think he’s coming around.”
Evelyn?
He sensed someone else bending over his bedside. “Agent Gallagher? Frank? Can you hear me?”
He fought his way from the darkness.
“Open your eyes?”
He tried. They remained shut.
“My name’s Molly. I’m the nurse who’s taking care of you today. You’re in the hospital at Fort Rickman. Do you remember what happened?”
He turned his head.
“Open your eyes, Frank.” Evelyn’s voice. She patted his hand.
Still so tired, but he wanted to see—
Light. Too bright.
“That was great. Try opening your eyes again.”
He blinked. Twice.
“Even better. Keep working. I bet your eyes are blue.”
Brown. He licked his lips, but the word wouldn’t form.
“Eyes opened wide. That’s what I want to see.”
Again, he blinked against the light. The nurse smiled down at him.
He turned his head ever so slightly. Evelyn came into view.
“Oh, Frank,” she gushed. A tear ran down her cheek. “I’ve been so worried.”
She squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.
“Wh...where—”
Slowly, his gaze swept the room. A knife stabbed his heart. He had expected to see Colleen.
Audrey had left him. Now Colleen.
He didn’t want to keep struggling any longer. He was worn-out and unwilling to fight back from the brink of despair again.
He had almost died last time. He wasn’t willing to bear the hurt again.
“Keep your eyes open, Frank.”
He ignored the nurse and slipped back into the darkness, where he couldn’t feel pain. Why should he open his eyes? He didn’t want to see anything if he couldn’t see Colleen.
* * *
“You need to go back to my place and get some sleep,” Evelyn suggested.
Colleen shook her head. “The last time I stepped out for coffee, Frank opened his eyes. I want to be here next time.”
“If there is a next time,” Evelyn said.
Her voice contained all the fear Colleen felt.
She shook her head. “Don’t say that.”
“The doctors warned us. We need to realize what could happen.”
“God won’t take him from me. I’ve lost Briana. I can’t lose Frank.”
Evelyn rubbed her shoulder. “Life isn’t always fair.”
Colleen nodded. How well she knew that to be true.
She thought of Evelyn’s first love and the pain she’d experienced when he revealed the truth about his marriage.
“You’ve had your share of suffering.”
“But now I have Ron.”
“Did you tell him about Dan?”
Evelyn nodded. “Just as you mentioned, he was loving and caring. Although like a typical male, Ron wanted to punch Dan. Even if he hadn’t been married, what he and I had wasn’t true love. It was something that fell far short. Looking back, I know God saved me for Ron.”
Colleen squeezed Evelyn’s hand. “I wasn’t sure about Ron because of seeing him with Trey the night of the tornado, but I was wrong, too. He’s got a big heart and a lot of love to shower on you, Evelyn.”
She glanced at her brother. “Frank does, too. He just needs to wake up and accept your love.”
The phone rang. Evelyn reached for the receiver. “Yes?”
She smiled. “You’re downstairs? I’ll be right there.” She hung up and patted Colleen’s hand.
“Ron’s in the lobby. I’m going to meet him for coffee in the cafeteria. Can I bring you anything?”
“Bring your brother back, and I’ll be happy.”
“Ron and I are praying. The whole church community is, as well.”
Would it be enough? Colleen wasn’t sure.
* * *
Colleen heard Frank’s voice in her dream. She smiled and squeezed his hand.
“Ouch.”
Her eyes popped open. Sitting in the chair at Frank’s bedside, she had rested her head on the edge of his mattress and dozed off.
His eyes were still closed. Her dream had been so real. Had she imagined his voice?
Maybe the three strikes were finally catching up to her.
She rubbed her hand over his. His fingers moved.
Her heart skittered in her chest.
“Frank?”
One eye blinked open.
The IV solution was providing fluids, but that didn’t keep his lips from being cracked and chapped.
