by CJ Lyons
"I told them to take care of Taylor. I'm fine." Her legs were trembling despite the support of the car trunk she leaned against. "Anyone find my cell phone? Fletcher called me on it, maybe we can do something with the call."
"I really think you need the medics, Lucy," Walden said, his voice sounding funny.
"No, I need that cell phone. Burroughs, would you go look for it?"
Burroughs ignored her, instead whirling away to grab a paramedic and pull him over.
"Why doesn't anyone listen to me?" Lucy was getting angry now, sweat dripping down the back of her shirt, making it stick to her. "Find the damn cell phone!"
"We will, I promise," Walden said. "Just as soon as the medics check you out."
"I told you, I'm fine."
"Lucy," Burroughs reached around her, snagging her by the waist as she sagged against the bumper. "Listen to me. We'll take care of everything but you need to lie down on this stretcher."
He pulled his hand away and raised it before her face. It was covered with blood, so much blood that it slipped off his palm in a steady stream.
Mesmerized, Lucy followed the drips of blood. They swirled in slow motion, tiny red beads of glistening sunlight, dropping, spilling, falling...
Chapter 26
Sunday 1:22 pm
The ambulance ride to Three Rivers passed in a haze of sirens and beeping monitors and men shouting above her. The medics strapped her face down onto the gurney, which wasn't helping her breathing. The lurching and swaying of the ambulance made her feel more queasy than the last time she'd tried to get on a boat.
"I'm going to be sick," she groaned, not sure if anyone could hear her. Gloved hands appeared below her, holding a yellow plastic basin. She threw up, waves of pain slicing through her until her vision went black again.
She woke up, still face down, this time mercifully motionless. She blinked and inhaled the sharp scent of starched hospital linens. Everything was white, except for the black spots dancing in her vision.
"What happened?" she asked, her voice a weak croak. She tried to raise her head but was overcome by vertigo.
"Hold still, Agent Guardino," came a man's voice from behind her. "You're at Three Rivers' ER. Everything's going to be fine."
The man sounded so calm, so superior that he pissed Lucy off immediately. "I didn't ask where I was. I asked what happened."
She tried to roll over to face him but pain screamed through every nerve ending. Her eyelids peeled back as she clamped her jaws against the urge to cry out. Christ, this was worse than childbirth.
"Don't move." Hands held her shoulders down as her shirt was cut away, the cold metal of the trauma shears slick against her wet skin.
Why was she wet? Oh yeah, there was a fire. Lots of water. And blood—there had been blood, too. Where was it coming from?
"Is Taylor all right?"
"Taylor?" the man asked. Idiot.
"The other FBI agent," a woman's voice supplied. "Ortho's with him, has a Colle's fracture."
"He's fine," the man translated. The sticky-slippy feel of gloved hands probed her back.
"Ah-ye!" she cried out against her will as more pain spiraled through her.
Lucy realized that in addition to removing her shirt, her jeans were now gone as well, there were IV's in each of her arms and sticky pads with wires attached to her chest. Disembodied hands poked and prodded, telling her to "hold still" and tell them if "anything hurt."
"Let's get X-ray in here," the man said.
"No." She put all her energy into the one syllable. The room grew silent and she felt the stares of the ER personnel on her.
"Agent Guardino," the man drawled out her name in an exasperated sigh. "I need you to cooperate."
Lucy decided she couldn't be hurt too bad, no one seemed very excited. There was none of the hustle and bustle major traumas created. Instead, everyone seemed rather annoyed by her intrusion into their workday.
Not as annoyed as she was.
"Tough shit. I've had quite enough of being a patient, thank you very much. I have work to do. Like finding a fourteen-year-old girl and the creep who took her before it's too late. Now, tell me exactly what's wrong and exactly how you're going to fix it and exactly who the hell you are."
She felt more than heard the man's intake of breath. A pair of female legs dressed in blue scrub pants walked to the head of the gurney.
"This is Dr. Williams," the woman who had spoken before answered. "He's a trauma surgeon and he's examining your back, trying to decide if he needs to take you to surgery."
"Surgery? For what?"
"Agent Guardino, you do remember the bomb, don't you?" Williams asked in an oh-so-condescending tone.
"Of course I do. Taylor and I jumped through a window, fell from the porch roof. I had my breath knocked out, but I didn't hit my head or anything. Just hurts a bit to breathe, that's all. Probably cracked a rib or something."
"Actually, you have a rather large piece of metal impaled through your rhomboid muscle," Williams told her. "I need X-rays to confirm that it hasn't penetrated the chest cavity before I remove it."
"A piece of metal? Really?" Well hell, you'd think she'd have noticed something like that. No wonder the guys on the scene were looking at her kind of funny. "Guess that's why it hurts so fucking much when I breathe. How big is it?"
A hand clad in a purple latex glove appeared before her eyes, its thumb and forefinger spread a good five inches apart. "That big," the nurse said. "But there's only about a half inch sticking out from the skin, so we need to see how deep it goes."
"Oh." Lucy sighed. So much for taking control of this situation. "Okay. Let's get that X-ray, then."
"Why thank you, Agent Guardino." The surgeon's sarcasm ripped through the room.
"No problem, doc," Lucy said airily. "Hey, since you've got my ass hanging free, could someone either throw a sheet on me or turn the heat up? It's freezing in here. And I need my guys—"
"After the X-ray."
Lucy conceded the point. The flow of people surrounding her shifted as a large machine was wheeled in. "Any chance you could be pregnant? How much do you weigh? Any past medical history?" an anonymous tech droned out the questions in a monotone that made it impossible to tell if they were a she or a he.
She rattled off answers and gave her personal information to a nurse who squatted down giving Lucy one person she could make eye contact with.
More pain while the tech jostled her, sliding witch's-tit-cold film cartridges under her. The nurse asked if she wanted any meds, but Lucy declined. She needed to keep her head clear. Everyone backed away, there was a final beep, and the X-rays were done.
"Would someone please send in my guys? Anyone? I don't care—FBI, Pittsburgh—" Lucy tried to raise her head to see if she'd been abandoned in the room but couldn't look that far over her shoulder. Then she heard the door whoosh open and footsteps approach.
"Lucy?" It was Nick. She stiffened as fresh pain washed through her. Not pain from the piece of metal in her back, this was a deeper pain. Harder to control. "Oh my God—"
"Is Megan okay?" She wanted to twist around far enough to see his face but couldn't. "Did something happen?"
"Yeah, something happened. My wife apparently developed delusions that she was superwoman and could fly." He took the stool in front of her. His face was pale, closed shut with worry. And anger. "Megan's fine. She's asleep."
"You shouldn't have left her alone."
He jerked his chin up at that. "She's with your mother." He left the unsaid words dangling between them, that it was Lucy who had left Megan, not him.
"I'm sorry." Tears blurred her vision. She blinked hard, not wanting him to see. But of course he did.
"For what? Leaving Megan or almost dying?" There was an edge to his voice and she recognized fear. But his fear and anger didn't stop him from taking her hand as she reached out to him.
"I panicked. I felt trapped—powerless. There was nothing I could do. Nothing. No
t even cheer her up playing that damn video game. I needed to do something. So when the chance came, I panicked and ran. I'm sorry."
He leaned forward so his forehead touched hers. "I know. Megan knows too. She's a smart kid."
"Takes after her dad that way. You were right, kind of, about that mystical thinking. All day long, I can't stop seeing Ashley and Megan together, like if I can save one, I can save them both."
"But that's the problem with magical thinking. What if you can't save Ashley?"
Shit. She didn't have an answer for that one. Nothing except the one thing that had driven her to this job in the first place. "I have to try."
He nodded, his head bobbing against hers. "I know. But that's the problem, isn't it?"
"I can't help it, Nick. It's not just because it's my job—you and Megan are far more important than any job. You know that. But it's a job no one else wants to do, and few people can do, and—"
"And you happen to be very good at it." He sat back, still holding her hand. "I know. John Greally told me that you found the guy who did this. And he told me you saved lives when you ran into that house."
The shrug came automatically, before she remembered the piece of steel in her back. Pain lanced through her, making her gasp. She blew it out, small little breaths like when Megan was born.
"Should I get the nurse?" Nick asked.
"No. I'm fine. How's Megan? Are any of the tests back?"
"Her color looks better. No fever. The doctors haven't been back." He glanced up, over her shoulder and she knew he wanted to be back with Megan. Watching, waiting. Nick was good at that.
Unlike Lucy.
"When they do, I don't care what time it is, you have them call me." Shit, she'd lost her phone in the fire. Damn, damn, damn. Could anything go right this weekend? She needed to be in contact with Megan's doctors, she needed to be with her daughter, she needed to find Ashley, she needed to hunt down Fletcher...and here she was, lying nearly naked on a cot, freezing her ass off. "I lost my cell. But I'll pick up a new one as soon as I'm back in the office."
"You're not going back to work," Nick protested.
"I have to—"
"No. You don't. Think of your daughter, Lucy."
Low blow. Totally unlike him. "Nick—"
"Okay, then, think of your team. That girl. Ashley. How can you focus on them when you're exhausted and worried about Megan? You've said yourself, a distracted agent is a dangerous one."
She blinked hard and fast, lowering her face so he couldn't see her tears. She couldn't handle this. Not now. "Give Megan a kiss. I'll be there tonight. I promise."
"You promised her, not me, Lucy," Nick said, his voice edged with a fury that was foreign to him. "Don't you dare let her down."
"I know. I know. I'll be there." She looked up again. "I love you."
He sighed and squeezed her hand, then dropped it. Heavy footsteps came from behind them.
"Hey, Guardino, didn't no one never teach you when to duck?" Burroughs said.
"I love you." Nick kissed her forehead then stood. "I'd better get back to Megan."
And he left.
"You okay, boss?" Walden added, moving to the head of the bed.
Lucy turned her head to one side, swiping away stray tears on the sheet. "I'm fine. They're just checking an X-ray. Any word on Fletcher?"
"Dust in the wind," Burroughs said. "Be awhile before we can get much out of the house, but the arson guys are working on it."
"Good. He'll have a car, one that's under the radar. And if he wasn't keeping Ashley in his house—" She stopped, icy cold rushing to her head as she realized she'd only assumed that Ashley wasn't in the house.
"No remains in the debris so far," Walden assured her.
"Okay." She swallowed, pushing past the fear that she was already too late to save Ashley. "Right. I need all the background on Fletcher, his complete personnel file. He's been planning this for a long time and we're playing catch up."
"ICE is cooperating, thanks to the SAC. But unfortunately the media is already all over this."
"Shit." She jerked her head up, ignoring the talons of pain raking down her back. Took a second to breathe. "Get me a new phone, programmed to my old number and wired for a trace. Fletcher called me once, he's gonna reach out again."
"Why? He's got Ashley, he's in the clear," Burroughs protested. "Why risk calling you?"
"Because he's the Maestro, the game master. He won his prize but he wants to play some more. With me."
They talked strategy. Lucy's neck ached with the effort of craning her head up all the time, but Walden seemed to instinctively understand. He grabbed a low stool and sat down in front of her, taking notes as she dictated a to-do list.
"What do you want from me?" Burroughs asked as Walden's list lengthened. He was staring at her with that look in his eye again. That "I'm just a horny guy, so sue me" look that he'd had ever since she'd met him.
"First up, you can stop ogling my ass." He jerked upright, eyes front as if he hadn't even been aware of what he'd been staring at. "Second, get me some clothes for when I bust loose from this joint. Third, give me your phone so I can call Bobby Fegley."
"Fegley?" Burroughs asked, his tone dismissive. "The cripple? What's he got to do with this?"
"He knows that game Fletcher invented better than anyone. Which means he has some insight in how Fletcher thinks. I'll talk to him while the doctors are mucking about."
Burroughs looked like he was going to say something but instead just handed her his cell phone. Before she could dial, the gracious and genteel Dr. Williams breezed in, waving a X-ray aloft as if it were the shroud of Turin.
He took the stool Walden vacated and paraded the film before her. Ribs and a white blob that was her heart she could figure out. She wasn't too sure at first about his prattling about pneumothorax and bleeding, but he finished by regretfully declaring that they weren't there, thus negating any necessity for major surgery.
The half a foot long jagged length of metal was rather obvious even to her untrained eye. It showed up bright white, sharp and looked utterly out of place anywhere near the soft curves that shadowed the rest of the X-ray.
Burroughs and Walden leaned forward, trying to get a glimpse as well. Williams stood and snapped the films onto a X-ray view box, beaming like a proud father.
"Jeeesuh," Burroughs whistled in appreciation. Walden was silent, but he moved to stand beside Lucy.
"How long is this gonna take?" she asked.
"Since you're not going to surgery, you don't need me. I'll get an intern down here—"
"Don't think so, doc," Walden said in a low, flat Dirty Harry tone. Lucy looked up, saw that he and Burroughs had sandwiched the surgeon between them, both of them wearing their best cop-glowers.
"I think you're going to fix her yourself." Burroughs picked up the ball and ran with it. "Right now." He squared off perpendicular to the surgeon, his hand resting on his gun as if ready for a fast draw.
"Really, gentlemen—"
"You have kids, Williams?" Lucy chimed in on the fun. The surgeon darted a glance in her direction as if he'd forgotten she was there.
"Yes. Why?" The word slid up near to the soprano range and he gulped it back down, tried again. "Look here, I'm very busy—"
"I'm busy too," Lucy continued, holding his gaze although it was making her head throb, stretching her neck up like that. "I'm busy trying to save a little girl's life. And I need to get patched up and out of here in order to do that. Think you can help out?"
He scanned the room as if looking for an escape. Given that his beeper hadn't gone off the entire time he'd been with them, Lucy suspected he'd run out of excuses. He turned back to the X-ray, one finger tracing the length of the piece of metal impaling her.
"Probably should take care of this myself," he finally said with a nod as if it were his idea. "Might be tricky."
Burroughs relaxed his posture and clapped Williams on the shoulder. "Thanks, doc. We appreciate i
t."
"Get to work, you two," Lucy said as Williams shrugged free of his lab coat and began to assemble an assortment of bright, shiny instruments of torture.
"It's going to hurt like a bastard when I take it out, even with the local. And that'll hurt a bit, too, sad to say."
Williams sounded anything but sad. He held up a syringe with a very large, very long needle on it and flicked an air bubble free. Lucy's head went woozy and she rested her forehead against the mattress, closing her eyes.
"I can knock you out if you want." His tone implied she'd be a wimp if she said yes.
Any other circumstances, she would have begged for the pain meds. She could care less what Williams thought of her. Raising her head, she ignored the rushing feeling that had commandeered her stomach. Good thing she'd already barfed in the ambulance. "No. I need to keep my head clear, get back to work as soon as you're done."
"Your call." He sounded almost gleeful.
Payback for their earlier power games. Hell, why couldn't men just grow up and focus on getting the job done?
She flipped Burroughs' phone open and saw a text message displayed. From one "tvgirl" who apparently "luv'd the way u f'd me all nite long, when are u cuming again?"
Lucy swore. It had nothing to do with the needle Williams used to stab her in the back.
Chapter 27
Sunday, 2:31 pm
A very long hour later, Lucy was shuffling down the hallway, wearing scrubs with no bra, her own underwear, shoes and socks, and Walden's windbreaker. She'd almost made her escape to freedom when the nurse chased her down, a clipboard and metal tray in her hands.
Walden and Burroughs stood on either side of her, watching as the nurse rattled off Lucy's discharge instructions, made her sign twenty-three different forms in triplicate, handed her a small bottle of Tylenol with codeine and a prescription for antibiotics. Finally, she unveiled the contents of the tray.
