Borrowed Time

by CJ Lyons

  “No, but maybe Blake thinks you are. Maybe he doesn’t care if he dies himself—as long as he’s in control.”

  Ramsey placed her hand on Kate’s good arm. She meant the gesture to be comforting, but all Kate could think of was the warmth that Josh’s touch brought. Her stomach twisted with a dull gnawing as she realized how much she stood to lose if anything happened to him.

  “Right now he is in control. We’re on his schedule, at his mercy.” Kate shrugged the shrink’s hand away. “We’re wasting time. We need to talk to Cohen, convince him to get some men over to St. Ursula’s. Before it’s too late.”

  CHAPTER 39

  With some help from Carter and a blind eye from Ramsey, Kate and Tony found themselves sitting in the back of a fire department rescue vehicle parked almost a mile away from St. Ursula’s. The waiting was unbearable. Midnight had come and gone and they’d heard nothing. Kate tested the radio once again, drawing looks of disdain from the paramedics, but she couldn’t help it. She wished there was room to pace, she felt claustrophobic waiting in this cramped space.

  Tony reached over from the bench across from the gurney and patted her knee. “It’s going to be all right,” he said in a low voice.

  The paramedics were eating hamburgers, obviously not bothered by either the confinement or the wait. “We get paid either way,” one had told her, “just as rather all the bad guys are good and dead before we get to them. You’d be amazed what kind of crap we have to put up with. Rizzo there got stabbed in the arm last year by a gang banger when he was putting an IV in, didn’t you, Rizzo?”

  Rizzo nodded in agreement, his mouth full of French fries.

  “You try to save their lives—they don’t care, they just yell and swear—I mean that’s gratitude for you, right? And it’s not just the druggies and drunks, otherwise normal people just freak sometimes. You should hear the ladies yell when we have to cut their clothes off.” The medic rolled his eyes. “How’re we gonna know where they’re hurt if we can’t see them? But no, they scream, not that, I just bought this outfit,” he finished in a fake soprano.

  Rizzo laughed, spilling some of his pop. “You guys sure you don’t want any? We got plenty.” He held out the bag to them.

  Kate shook her head and resumed her position at the windows. The darkness was so complete she could barely make out the silhouettes of the cars parked nearby. It was an older neighborhood, and most of the houses sat back from the street. The kind of neighborhood where people would sit out on their stoops in nice weather and actually talk to their neighbors. Not many places like this anymore.

  A squawk from the radio interrupted her thoughts. They were monitoring the task force’s frequency, but had strict orders not to transmit unless they were responding to a medical emergency. A man’s voice came over the speaker, low and hushed, but not hurried at all. “I’ve got a light at the caretaker’s. Wait, it’s moving. I think it’s our man.”

  “Hold your positions,” came Cohen’s voice. “Anyone got him in your scopes?” he asked the snipers positioned near the gravesite.

  No one answered in the affirmative.

  The radio chatter continued as Kate tried to reconstruct the scene in her mind. Her gaze was fixed out the window, but what she saw was a dark cemetery, quiet figures converging on a small shed beside a paved drive. They crouched beside statues, slithered on their stomachs, peering over tombstones, looking through their night scopes. She pressed her face against the cold glass, trying to transport herself there, wanting to help capture Blake and find Josh.

  Suddenly she was there with Josh. She could see Blake standing over him. Josh was so tired, so very tired, she could almost feel the will to live seeping from him. He looked up from his contorted position in the trunk with glazed eyes, unable to speak because of the duct tape covering the lower half of his face, muscles twisted into pretzels, spasmed into uselessness. Blake raised a gun, aimed it at him.

  “Now who’s the one with power over life and death?” she heard Blake say. “Think anyone will be able to bring you back, Lightner?” He bent down, placing the gun between Josh’s eyes. “I don’t think so. Tomorrow when they find you—she’ll come here, I know her, she’ll feel compelled—and I’ll be waiting. Not that there’ll be much of you left for her to see.”

  Josh stared, his eyes wide and flat and hopeless. Do something, Kate urged him, urged anyone, wishing she was there. She caught her breath as Blake suddenly straightened and looked around. Kate hadn’t heard anything, but obviously he had. He crouched down and moved to the side of the car, peering through the darkness. She saw him take something from his pocket. A tremendous explosion ripped through the night.

  Flames engulfed the shack. Footsteps echoed as police raced toward the car, but Blake was calm, moving slowly and surely in between the graves until he vanished into the night.

  Kate fell back as the ambulance began to move. Tony caught her and helped her to a seat.

  “He’s okay,” she said.

  “How do you know?” he asked. “All they said was that there was a body in a car. Jesus, look at that!” He pointed out the front window toward the flames etched against the night sky.

  “Blake headed west,” Kate told the paramedic nearest the radio. “Tell them!” she commanded when he looked at her as if she was crazy, but he picked up the mike and repeated her information. There was so much chatter over the channel she doubted the message got through to anyone. It wouldn’t do any good. Blake had his escape well orchestrated. She was certain that he was long gone. It didn’t matter. Josh was safe.

  Josh had never felt so cold in his life. Was this a dream? He felt as if his body wasn’t his own, as if he were experiencing everything from a great distance. The only things that seemed real to him were the piercing cold that encompassed his body and the fear that seemed to be the only thing keeping him conscious. He knew, felt it in his marrow of his being, that he was about to die.

  There was a blinding light. The light exploded into a myriad of brilliant colors. He shut his eyes against the intensity of it. A loud noise echoed through his brain, reverberating with the pounding of his head and the ringing in his ears.

  Then it was over. Josh opened his eyes and saw nothing but a normal night sky. He heard voices. Men in dark clothes approached him, lifting his body, but he could not feel their hands. Sharp, piercing spasms of pain shot through him as they moved him, stretching muscles hardened into concrete, touching delicate skin peppered with ice crystals. They pulled the tape from his face. He vomited into the dirt beside the car as they held his limp, useless body upright. They spoke to him, but he could not understand the words through the haze of pain, cold and the pounding in his head. He simply nodded, a movement which he instantly regretted as he vomited again.

  He was moved onto a stretcher. Where are my hands? Josh wanted to ask, but didn’t, afraid to hear the answer.

  Bright lights, short bursts of searing pain, tourniquet, angiocath, the pain of the blanket against his skin, fire and ice mingling over his body, all beneath the rush of the ocean waves crashing in his brain and the nausea that racked his body.

  Then she was there.

  Her face was lit from behind—a halo, she wore a halo. Him, she had come for him. Somehow that thought was enough to soothe the pain and quiet the pounding, and he slipped into dark, quiet, peaceful unconsciousness. He couldn’t remember his own name, but he knew her face and that was enough.

  CHAPTER 40

  The ambulance roared through the streets with all the grace of an elephant on roller skates. Kate held her breath each time they were forced to slow to avoid a collision, her right foot repeatedly jamming against the floorboard as if she could take control of the accelerator. It was all she could do other than twist around from the front passenger seat and watch the paramedic take care of Josh.

  Excited by the prospect of a chance for a front-page story, Tony remained at the graveyard. Blake had triggered a homemade bomb that blew up the caretaker’s shed and
covered his escape. Once more Kate marveled at Blake’s ability to anticipate their every move.

  The paramedics were quick and efficient, one intent on driving, watching for the infamously reckless Pittsburgh drivers, the other starting an IV, monitoring and reporting on Josh’s condition to the doctors waiting for them in the ER. When he turned away, Kate slipped out of her seatbelt and placed her good hand on Josh’s forehead, stroking his hair. The medic frowned at her but said nothing, busy with his own work.

  Finally, they arrived at the ER. Hostile faces, bright lights, voices and hands blurred past Kate, pushing her to one side and eventually out of the trauma bay as they worked on one of their own. Kate couldn’t blame them for holding her responsible for Josh’s injuries.

  It was her fault. Now that Josh was safe, she could finally face that awful truth. She had been selfish to get him involved, selfish and stupid. Blake was her problem, and she would have to deal with him herself.

  No one else would get hurt because of her, she vowed.

  She was sitting in the waiting room, thinking it would better be termed purgatory or the seventh realm of Hell, when Anne Ramsey came in, looking as exhausted as Kate felt. Her usually impeccable tailored suit had been replaced by a black FBI windbreaker, jeans and a rumpled sweater.

  “Any word?” Ramsey asked. Kate shook her head and Ramsey went through the double doors leading into the examination area. A FBI consultant had more clout than a shot-up cop without a badge.

  By the time Ramsey returned, Kate had been driven back to pacing.

  “They transferred him up to the fifth floor. He has a bruise, contusion they called it, in his brain, and they’ll have to watch him carefully for that, but there’s nothing life threatening now.”

  “What else is wrong?” Kate asked, noticing that Ramsey wouldn’t meet her eyes.

  The older woman hesitated. “He was hypothermic and has frostbite of both hands. They said it will be a while until they see if they need to do any surgery on his hands or how much damage he sustained.”

  Kate focused past Ramsey, her gaze locked on the Exit sign, staring until it blurred into a blood-red snarl. What had she done? It would be worse than death for Josh if he couldn’t be a surgeon any longer. She blinked hard to fight back tears.

  Ramsey put a hand on her shoulder. “C’mon, let me take you home.”

  “I can’t go home, remember? Might as well stay here, at least I can keep an eye on Josh.”

  “They have a guard on him, and you look like you need some rest. You can crash on the second bed in my room if you don’t want to be alone.”

  The words were spoken with kindness that Kate didn’t have the energy to respond to. “They appointed you to keep an eye on me, didn’t they?”

  Ramsey hesitated, gave Kate a discerning glance. “Carter and I volunteered. Figured that was better than someone who didn’t know about—”

  “About my curse. Maybe I’ll start howling at the next full moon as well.”

  “You saved Josh’s life tonight.”

  Had she really saved his life? Would Josh feel that way if he suffered permanent damage, couldn’t be a surgeon? Because of her.

  “I’m going to stay here tonight. Stay with him.”

  “There’s a guard on his door already. Call me in the morning and either Carter or I will come and pick you up.”

  Once in the elevator, Kate pressed the button for the fifth floor and slumped against the side of the car, totally drained. She didn’t know what to feel. Joy that Josh would live, guilt that it was because of her he was in danger, sad that there was a chance he might lose function of his hands, angry that they were in this position. Why couldn’t they have been left alone to discover each other?

  I do love him. The words echoed in her mind, a powerful truth she could no longer deny. A truth that brought only pain. After tonight, how could he ever feel the same about her?

  She nodded, recognizing the officer at Josh’s door, and entered. He was asleep, the bruises on his face highlighted by the stark white bandage around his head. The rest of his body was hidden by the white hospital blanket, sparing Kate that sight at least.

  Kate slid a chair closer to Josh but didn’t sit down. She had to keep moving, keep the momentum going. She paced to the other side of the bed, twisting the blinds open so that she could watch the city glow, bathed in the faint light of the coming day.

  “Don’t do it,” came a scratchy voice behind her, almost lost in the deep silence of the room. “You can’t go after Blake alone.”

  Kate didn’t turn around; she couldn’t face him. Instead she addressed the ruddy daylight insinuating itself into the night sky, refusing to be denied. “I don’t have any choice. Too many good people have gotten hurt. Have died.”

  “There’s always a choice, even Blake has choices,” Josh replied in a hoarse whisper. “He could have killed me tonight. All he had to do was pull the trigger before he ran. Something stopped him.”

  “What?” she asked bitterly. “He didn’t stop with me or Rob, not with Conrad or Dimeo. Why did he not—” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. Instead she leaned her forehead against the cold windowpane. What if Blake had pulled that trigger? Why was she so upset—surely not because Josh was alive? That was all she had been praying for.

  No, she was ecstatic that Josh was alive. But Kate also knew the price to be paid.

  She sighed and looked up, blinking hard. It all came down to her and Blake, Blake and her. They were part of the same equation, two sides of the same coin, balanced on an edge. How could she tip him over without going with him?

  “Maybe this is how it was meant to be.” She halted, had to swallow twice. “Maybe this is why I didn’t die the first time.”

  “No. Don’t talk like that.”

  “It’s the truth.” She drew her breath in, felt the pain of it as a distant memory, an old familiar friend. “I should be dead.”

  “Kate,” Josh’s voice was stronger now, but still without the warmth of the old Josh in it. “Please, look at me. Promise me you won’t do anything.”

  She turned to him, stricken to her heart by the sight of his anguished eyes. An old song began to echo through her mind, a voiceless rhythm of love lost, long ago and far away. She brushed her hand against his forehead.

  “Ssh,” she crooned. “Go to sleep, everything will be okay.”

  She bent down and kissed him gently on his swollen lips. He closed his eyes, his breathing smoothed as she stroked his cheek. Once he was asleep, she crept from the room, savoring the taste of him as the one thing she hoped never to forget.

  CHAPTER 41

  Kate knew the streets of East Liberty. She would be the first to suggest that they were no place for a woman, particularly a woman with one arm useless, alone. Yet she walked among the shadows without fear and without molestation, protected by what—she did not know. Dawn came and went, the November sun playing hide and seek with clouds promising either snow or rain.

  She walked, releasing herself to her precognition. This power that grew within her had its own strength. If she yielded to it, it would lead her, guide her to the proper path. The sun faltered, lost its battle with the clouds and a dreary darkness descended. Kate paid it no heed.

  First thing was to get off the street. She needed a quiet place, someplace where she could be alone and people wouldn’t interrupt her. She thought about calling Anne Ramsey, decided against it. If she called anyone, they’d only start keeping tabs on her, maybe even place her in protective custody, and she couldn’t afford that. She needed to be free to act.

  Her apartment was out, it would be crawling with Feds and cops. It was too cold to stay outside on a park bench. A library or church would be private, but she’d attract attention if she made any noise. She thought about the hotel room, but couldn’t bear the thought of being where she and Josh had made love, not when she needed to focus on Blake.

  Tony’s place seemed her best option. Odds were that he wouldn
’t be home, not with everything that went down last night. She didn’t have cab fare, but two buses and a transfer would get her close.

  She got caught in the morning commute. It was hard to breathe once aboard the crowded, overheated PATA bus. During the first leg of her journey she had to stand, along with half a dozen other passengers. She watched as an obviously pregnant woman struggled up the bus stairs and down the aisle. A middle-aged woman gave up her seat while the male commuters resolutely hid themselves behind their Wall Street Journals.

  After changing buses, she was able to get a window seat. She leaned her head against the cold glass, fighting against sleep, but the heat and motion of the bus were hypnotic. Kate didn’t realize how tired she was until the bus came to an abrupt stop and she banged her head against the metal rail of the seat in front of her. She woke with a start and looked around. No one paid her any attention—the anonymity of public transportation.

  Kate stood in the aisle for the remainder of the trip until the bus finally deposited her a block away from Tony’s building. As she walked, inhaling the bracing cold air and leaning against the wind off the water, she noticed the low hanging clouds. Dark clouds, promising rain.

  She got out her keys, but rang the bell first on the off chance that Tony was home. To her surprise, his voice came over the intercom, scratchy and blurred as if she had woken him.

  “It’s Kate.” She’d thought for certain he’d be down at the paper and now wasn’t sure what to say. “Can I come in?”

  “Oh.” There was a long pause. Then the door lock clicked open.

  Kate slowly walked up the stairs, puzzled by his response—just “oh”? That wasn’t like Tony. She tried to think back to last night. Had she done something to offend him? He hadn’t sounded angry, merely weary—justifiably so after everything that had happened. Still it nagged at her as she knocked on his door. He’d gotten a great story, first hand account, true front-page material, he should be pumped with adrenalin. She’d seen him work nonstop for days without giving in to exhaustion. What was going on?