by Cat Connor
“And all over your teeth,” he said and stood up and went into my room. A few seconds later, he came back with a clean wet facecloth.
Doc opened his medical kit.
“Thought you were okay?” he said. He held a tongue depressor and a small flashlight. He didn’t give me a chance to reply. “Let’s have a look.”
“I think I might need stitches,” I replied, as blood dripped from my mouth and ran over my chin. There was too much to swallow this time and it was making me feel sick. I opened my mouth and let the blood cascade down my chin.
“You think?” Doc replied. Heavy irony seemed to be his forte. “You’re an amazing agent but useless at accepting help.”
I swallowed. “I am not.”
“You knew about this, why didn’t you say something?” He had a point.
“Because I thought it would fix itself.”
He pulled out his phone and made a call, letting Sean know we’d be a little later than first thought.
Sitting was still interesting. Half my head wanted to drift to the right and I seemed to have little concept of where my body was situated. I checked the robe ties were secure. My sense of decency prevailed, no matter what.
Blood dripped onto the perfectly white robe.
Okay, so maybe the blast was a little stronger than I thought, and maybe it screwed my head a tad.
“I’m going to use a local anesthetic and stitch that cut,” Doc said. “Rowan if you don’t like blood and needles, now is a good time to leave.”
“I’ll be fine,” Rowan replied. I noticed he moved so he was looking out the window.
Fine my ass.
Twenty-Three
Unbreakable
Rowan handed me a glass full of ice chips. “Feel okay?”
“Yeah.”
Doc laughed. “She never says no; you should know that if you intend to spend time with her.”
“I don’t like to complain.”
My tongue paused to fiddle with the stitches inside my cheek. I could feel Mac reaching out from the grave, I heard him say ‘three strikes and you’re out.’
“Doc.”
“Conway, you want something?”
“Three strikes.”
“It’s not going to happen,” he said with a grin. “It’s a mild concussion.”
Rowan had worry plastered all over his face; I appreciated his concern. “It’s okay, Rowan.”
He shrugged and by way of an explanation said, “Unchartered waters.”
“Ain’t it fun hanging out with me?”
His face clouded with something new and scary. He cared.
I stood up too quickly. My rookie mistake hit me, like the floor, as my legs dumped me unceremoniously.
Doc leaped over the couch and landed beside me. “Conway?” His hand reached for mine.
The sheer stupidity of the situation skyrocketed the ‘ludicrous’ factor.
“Come on,” he said with a grin that could melt an Antarctic ice shelf. His hand tightened around mine as he helped me up.
“I fell over.”
“You don’t say.”
“I haven’t even had a drink.” Laughter bubbled.
“I know.” His voice held his amusement in check but I heard it simmering at the edges.
One hand gripped back of the couch. Doc had a decent grasp of my other arm. I turned my head toward him and the room spun out of control. Our eyes locked. I’m not sure they meant to.
“Oh Jesus, you’re not all right.”
“Pfff, this is nothing. I’m okay.” I covered my ass as well as I could. “But I really need to get rid of the blood-stained robe.” I’d seen enough blood for one lifetime. “I think I need your help.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
His eyes narrowed. “This is an unprecedented moment, Conway.”
More irony. I knew he wasn’t buying it. “Can you help me find me some clean clothes, please?”
“You’re not going back to work?” Rowan said. I’d forgotten he was still there. He hadn’t found my falling over as amusing as Doc and I did.
“Yeah, I am. I’m in the middle of a case here, Rowan. Remember?”
He nodded.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Doc and I went into the bedroom. I sat down on the bed and watched as he began the arduous task of finding me clothes. He held up tee shirts for my approval. I settled upon a pale blue one. He turned his attention to underwear and found that a lot more entertaining.
“You think you can manage to get this lot on? Without falling over?”
“I’m feeling adventurous, so I guess we’ll find out.”
Once I’d shooed him from the room I began the struggle into my clothes. Dressing with wonky balance was entertaining. I figured Doc now knew there was something else amiss.
I knew exactly what was going on. I didn’t need an MRI or a head CT to confirm it either. I had a mild concussion but the symptoms I was experiencing indicated a strong possibility of BPPV or Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo. I knew this, because it had happened before. I intended to do my best to pretend it was normal. As long as I didn’t fall on my ass again all would go smoothly. I reminded myself to move my head slowly, not look up too far and that bending over would be plain stupid. There would be no closing my eyes while I was sitting or standing: that was guaranteed to drop me on my ass.
If Mac were here, he’d remember the exercises that make it go away. Last time it happened I only did them for a few nights and everything was fine again. I couldn’t even remember the name of the treatment.
If Mac were here ... Mac’s voice crooned within my brain, ‘Babe, tell Kurt. He knows what you need.’
My mind hissed like a leaky tire. Everything’s okay.
“Okay, I’m decent,” I called out as I walked back into the living area.
“What a shame,” Rowan replied.
“Oh please!” I gave a generous eye roll. While my head caught up to the rapid eye movement and I suppressed the sudden nausea, the kids at the police station came to mind. “Can I ask you a favor?”
He nodded.
Even though I’d had the thought and the words were about to fall from my mouth, I still wasn’t entirely convinced that Grange was completely innocent in this whole child abduction situation.
“We have two children back at the police station. We found them at the stadium; both had been abducted. Will you come meet them?”
I sensed a hesitation.
“You sure?”
“Yes. At least one of them was promised a meeting with Rowan Grange – it was part of the lure one of the scumbags used.”
His face clouded with anger. “That’s disgusting.”
“Yep. Can you do this? Your people, managers and such, won’t go ballistic?”
“Want the whole band?”
“That would be awesome. You’re sure this is okay?”
He smiled. “If we don’t tell management, they won’t know. They will assume we are all in our beds. Let’s treat this as our little secret.”
“Living dangerously,” Doc commented. “I ordered some more coffee. We’ll cool yours, Conway. No hot drinks for a day or so, for you. We’ll have a coffee then get going, yeah?”
“Sounds good.”
There was a knock. “Rowan can you get that?” Doc asked. He was packing up.
When Rowan opened the door for room service, he stooped and retrieved a piece of white paper from the floor. “Think this is for you,” he said, handing me the paper without looking at it. Rowan poured the coffee and sat my cup in a bowl of ice. Inventive.
The flipside of the paper revealed another photograph.
Hawk and two girls going through security at an airport gate. There was a time stamp.
I handed it to Doc, found my cell phone and called Lee.
“Hawk’s gone. He took two girls. What time is it?”
“After midnight,” he replied.
“The photo is ti
me-stamped, eleven-fifteen p.m.”
“Someone took a photo of him leaving and delivered it to you?”
“Yep.”
“Can you confirm the identity of the girls?”
I studied the picture, I was sure I knew who they were but even so, I compared it with the photographs we had on file. Better to be totally sure.
“Tasha Cravino and Samantha Rowe. He’s gone, Lee.”
“You coming in?”
“I’ll be there soon.” I hung up, drank my lukewarm coffee. He was gone with two kids. There was still one kid here somewhere. It didn’t bode well for her.
Twenty-Four
Get Over It
Doc and I sat in the spacious office loaned to us by the area commander and listened to Lee’s briefing. I showed him the latest photo. After close inspection, he agreed it was of Tasha Cravino and Samantha Rowe.
In another room, a psychologist spoke with one of the kids, the littlest one, Nicola. In yet another room the other child, Shannon Harris, sat with a female police officer and social workers. She wouldn’t be going home to her mother. Police picked up her mother, Stephanie Harris, as she arrived home, minus her daughter, from the concert. She was being interviewed pending charges, in another part of the police station. Child, youth and family social workers were making necessary care arrangements for both of Stephanie Harris’s children. They began with trying to locate other members of the family. The extended family is always the first step in emergency child placement.
Lee placed a file on the desk in front of me. “Medical report on Nicola’s mother,” he said, tapping the manila folder.
“What do we know?”
“It’s not good. She had a full-on psychotic break and will be incommunicado for quite some time.”
The psychologist tapped on our open door. “Agent Conway?”
“Come in.”
“Nicola would like to talk to you.”
“Excellent. How is she?”
“Resilient,” he replied.
I went into see Nicola; I wanted to talk to her too. She smiled when I opened the door. “Ellie!”
“You all right?” I asked, sitting opposite her at the small table.
She nodded, her smile widened. “I’m okay.”
“Can I ask you some questions?”
She nodded.
“Where did you meet John McClane?”
She was quick to answer, “Mom met him online.”
This led me to ask, “How’d you find out about the Butterfly Foundation?”
“Mom. She said she found it and I should join.”
“And the American address?”
She looked worried. I hastened to let her know she wasn’t in any trouble. “It’s okay. I’m interested, not mad or anything.”
Nicola smiled. “A friend from another site – we play Bratz games online together – she said I could use her address.”
“Okay. Do you know where your mom met McClane?”
“A chat room, I think.” Nicola thought for a minute. “Yeah it was. She used to talk to him in a chat room and then on MSN.”
“You have any idea what sort of chat room?”
“She used to go to a Grange one, don’t know of any others.”
“Excuse me a minute?”
She nodded.
Outside the room I found Lee. “We need her mom’s computer.”
“I’ll get Sean to get it.”
I went back in.
“Did McClane come over to see your mom?”
“Yes, he said he was from Russia but he isn’t. He has a funny accent, it’s kind of like yours but more.”
“If I show you a picture, can you tell me if you know who it is?”
I flipped through my phone pictures until I found the guy we thought was Hawk and showed it to Nicola.
“That’s him. John McClane.”
“Thanks Nicola.”
She touched my arm. “You are her, aren’t you?”
“Her?”
“Special Agent Ellie. It’s you who started the Foundation?”
“It’s me.”
“Was your mom sick too?”
“Yes, yes she was.”
“Mom was getting better and then Mr. McClane came and she got really sick,” Nicola said. “He made her sicker.”
“She is getting better now. She’s in the hospital.”
“Will he come back?”
“No.”
“Good. I didn’t like him.” Quietly she added, “But Mom did.”
“How come he brought you here?”
“To see the Grange concert. He said Mom signed something before he took her to the hospital. It said he was allowed to look after me.”
Same old Hawk.
“Do you know your mom is here in Christchurch, in a hospital?”
She shook her head. “He didn’t bring her here. It’s too far.”
“Maybe someone else brought her here.” I watched her closely. “Did McClane have a friend?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Would you like to see your mom?”
She nodded and smiled. “Who will take care of me until she gets better?”
“I’m pretty sure I can find someone to take care of you.”
Someone better than a child trafficker. Perhaps a convicted felon or gang member. Maybe some kindly gentleman on death row.
“Am I in trouble?”
“No. You are not in trouble. We are happy we found you and I have a surprise, if that’s okay?”
She smiled.
God, she was so young.
“I’ll be right back.”
I scraped my chair against the floor as I stood up. This time I left the door open. I opened an adjacent door and beckoned to Rowan.
“Come and meet Nicola.”
He smiled and walked toward me. The other three looked on. “You want them too?”
I grinned. Is he nuts? Who would ask such a question? “Don’t suppose Tony has a guitar … or even you?”
Rowan smiled and winked at me. “I love the way you said ‘even you.’ I do play you know.”
“I know.”
“Unfortunately we don’t have a guitar but we do have CDs,” Tony said.
“You’re awesome.”
Walking backward into the room, I shielded most of the hallway commotion from the curious Nicola. Quite honestly, I was surprised I could walk backward without falling.
“Well, young lady. I’d like you to meet some friends of mine,” I said and turned around, then stepped aside. Rowan strode into the room behind me wearing a mile-wide grin. The band followed close behind. I watched Nicola’s face, hoping it wasn’t too much.
Her little face lit up. A strangled squeak escaped her lips.
Rowan held his hand out to her.
“Hello, I’m Rowan Grange.”
Nicola blinked in an owl-like fashion and froze, mesmerized.
I leaned in and whispered to her, “You can shake his hand.”
She whispered in my ear, “He sounds sort of like Mr. McClane.”
“It’s okay Nicola. It really is Rowan Grange.”
She hesitated, then thrust her small hand in his. Tony stepped up next to Rowan and handed Nicola a CD. She smiled.
I left them to their visit and went back to Lee.
My head ached, my eyes hurt and I could’ve sworn I was already asleep.
Lee had spent time interviewing Shannon Harris. Like Nicola, she didn’t really know much. They were supposed to meet another man with another girl but never did.
The room with Shannon was next.
“Hi, how you doing?”
She looked up at me. “All right. Who are you?”
“Special Agent Ellie Conway.”
She shrugged.
“Where’s my mom?”
“She’s being interviewed by police.”
“She was going to sell me,” Shannon said quietly. “Who does that?”
There was no way I
was prepared to defend her mother’s actions and no way to make it sound any better, so I moved on.
“What was with the concert?”
Shannon looked slightly surprised then smiled. “Supposed to be my birthday present … but I didn’t believe Mom would buy the tickets.”
Smart kid. She didn’t; someone gave them to her. Not something the kid needed to know.
“You liked Grange for long?”
“Yeah, my whole life.”
Wow. That long.
“I have a few more questions and then a surprise for you. First – do you belong to the Grange fan club?”
She shook her head. “It’s too expensive.”
“Have you ever been to a Grange chat room online?”
“No. I don’t use the internet much; it keeps being cut off. Mom says it breaks but it doesn’t. She doesn’t pay the bill.”
“Does mom use the internet much?”
“At work, she talks about Facebook and stuff to me. I think she goes to some chat room where she talks to, you know, old people who like Grange.”
I scrawled in my notebook to remind myself to look for links to Grange chat rooms on her mother’s work computer.
“Thanks for that. Now for you, I have a surprise. Wait right here.”
Rowan and the band were waiting in the hallway.
“You guys are really great for taking time to see these kids. The kid in there,” I pointed to the door, “is Shannon. She’s been a fan her whole life.” I grinned. “Let me get into the viewing room then you can open that door.”
I hurried into another room and sat facing a large window. I could see Shannon sitting at a table, with the door open. She shrieked as Rowan and Tony walked in and again, as the rest of the band followed.
Seeing her so excited, animated and full of life, did a lot to ameliorate the horror of the night.
She reminded me of Carla.
Twenty-Five
Damned
Sean drove us back to the hotel from the police station. It wasn’t a long drive. The sun rose as we arrived, turning the sky a myriad of colors. Brilliant orange and pinks reflected in the huge glass hotel windows and I didn’t have the energy to acknowledge the beauty of the summer sunrise on a dismal Friday morning.
There was no way I could suitably explain why but I desperately wanted to go home. My gut told me something bad was going to happen to Carla and I needed to be there. Hawk was gone with two kids, a third was still missing and all hope was fading. And the trail of death was getting old. As keen as police here were, working with them after the death of our liaison was difficult. She was killed because of us and I understood the stress that placed on everyone.
