[Kate Reid 01.0 - 03.0] Unbound

by Robin Mahle

  “Didn’t think I had any tricks left up my sleeve? I almost forgot the gun in the mad rush to leave the house.”

  The knife bounced next to Katie’s foot and finally settled a few inches in front of them.

  “You’ve got nowhere to go, Hendrickson,” Marshall said.

  “Yes, I believe Agent Scarborough just relayed the same piece of information. I’m well aware of the fact, Detective Avery and I have no plans of making it out of here alive and neither does little Katie.”

  He pointed the barrel of the gun against her bruised temple, pushing hard. She squinted at the pain. That was where his foot had landed and it hurt like hell.

  “Let her go or I’ll take you down, you son of a bitch.” Marshall was losing control. His face turned red from the rising anger.

  Scarborough must have noticed. “Go! I got this!” he demanded.

  “That’s right, Detective Avery. You heard the man; he’s got this.” Hendrickson angled the gun square against Katie’s temple and, in an instant, flashes of light illuminated the dark cellar.

  Katie was deafened by the sound of the guns, bullets whizzing around, ricocheting off of the cellar walls. She watched as chaos erupted.

  Marshall’s lips were moving, but she couldn’t hear him. Everyone seemed to be yelling and she fell to the ground. Searing pain pierced her side.

  Scarborough and Marshall ran down through the rain of gunfire. She couldn’t focus, she was losing consciousness.

  Her body moved in what felt like slow motion when she tried to grab her side. The last thing she saw was Marshall’s face in agonizing pain as he fell to the ground only a few feet in front of her. They locked eyes for just a moment. Her vision began to blur and her eyes grew heavy, then darkness settled all around.

  “Katie, wake up!”

  The muffled words sounded in her ears, but the ringing was still too loud for her to decipher them. She felt the sting of someone slapping her battered cheek. Her eyes fluttered open, but her vision remained fuzzy. The outline of Agent Scarborough began to come into focus. His identity was confirmed by the letters on his windbreaker. She looked around and saw a scene very similar to the one at Wilson’s house. People running around, seemingly without purpose.

  “Marshall?” she whispered.

  “Katie, he’s been shot and so have you. Paramedics are on their way to take you both to the hospital,” Scarborough replied.

  She turned her head to the right and saw Marshall. His eyes were closed and other officers were around him, stripping the clothes off his chest. She turned the other way and saw Hendrickson. No one was near him. He lay on top of a pool of blood that could be from no one else.

  Katie looked back at Scarborough and began crying. “Is he dead?”

  “Yes, Katie. He’s dead. It’s over.”

  Her side throbbed even more as she cried harder. Katie pulled her hands back and saw the blood covering her palms. Panic stricken, she looked to Scarborough.

  “You’re going to be fine, Katie. You and Detective Avery will be fine.” He pulled out a pocket knife and cut the zip ties from her hands.

  She again watched Marshall. The other officers had removed his shirt and were pressing on his rib cage. “Marshall. Marshall!” With each word, she winced in pain.

  Sirens sounded in the distance. “You see? Everything’s going to be fine,” Scarborough said.

  But when Katie looked in his eyes, he was watching Marshall with deep concern.

  Hendrickson was gone, that much was true. The officers were taking pictures of him, but no one touched his body and they stepped carefully around the blood pool.

  It was over; he was dead. But was she about to lose Marshall too? She began to feel weak again.

  “Stay with me, Katie. The ambulance is coming.” He pressed her side where the blood was spilling out of her like someone had forgotten to turn off a faucet.

  She was getting very tired and everyone around her was moving so quickly. She watched them work on Marshall, his eyes still closed. Please God, don’t let him die.

  A team of people in white and blue shirts rushed down the stairs, holding cases. One ran to Marshall’s side, another rushed to hers. She could hear Scarborough explain the scene to the man.

  “Katie, I’m Hank. I’m going to make sure you’re all right. Can you hear me?”

  She nodded only slightly, but it was enough to confirm she remained conscious.

  “Okay, good. We’re going to get you upstairs and into the chopper, okay?”

  She was starting to drift, the man’s face moving in and out of focus. More people rushed down with stretchers.

  “Don’t let him die,” she said to the paramedic.

  The man glanced at Marshall. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, ma’am. I’m concerned about you right now.”

  Scarborough moved to Marshall’s side where he and another EMT began talking. Katie couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the look on Scarborough’s face terrified her. The situation felt like a dream. Hendrickson was dead, Marshall was, at the very least, severely injured, and she had no idea what was going to happen next.

  “Ma’am, we’re going to lift you onto this stretcher. Do you understand me?” The paramedic took her pulse as he spoke.

  Slowly, she blinked her eyes, indicating she understood. They hoisted her onto the stretcher and the two men rose in unison until she was off the ground. Scarborough jumped back over and spoke to them, too quietly for Katie to know what he was saying.

  Scarborough held Katie’s hand. “You’ll be just fine.”

  “Don’t let him die,” she replied.

  When the paramedics got her outside, she noticed a helicopter descending and several others overhead. Was it the media? Had the story gotten out already? But the one chopper descending finally landed. The door opened and she was led toward it. They loaded her inside. She lay there for a moment, wondering why they weren’t taking off. Then, as she turned her head toward the opening, she saw the men carrying Marshall out. They were going to airlift them out together, which must have meant that he was still alive.

  She watched them bring him in. He was unconscious and they had a manual respirator on him; bagging him, she’d heard it called before. But he was alive and she prayed to God that he remained that way.

  The helicopter lifted off the ground. It was shaky and bumpy and nothing like being on an airplane. She screamed as the EMT began pouring a white powder-like substance into the wound.

  “I’m sorry Katie but his will help stop the bleeding.” He then rotated her just enough to do the same thing to her back.

  She soon realized the bullet must have gone right through her. “I’m freezing,” she whispered.

  “Your body is going into shock.” He grabbed her foot to confirm that her skin had become cold and then proceeded to rip open a plastic bag that contained a blanket. He draped it over her, bringing her some relief. But it didn’t last long when he pushed hard on her wound. She moaned again in excruciating pain.

  “I’m so sorry, but I need to keep pressure on this to help the QuickClot work.” As he continued to apply pressure, he managed to also get her started on an IV and injected her with morphine.

  It didn’t take long for the worst of the pain to begin to subside. As she began to feel more alert, partly due to the IV restoring hydration to her body, the paramedics started shouting at one another, giving orders. It was so loud in there she couldn’t understand what they were saying. It wasn’t until she saw the paddles that she knew what was happening. Oh God, he’s dying.

  “Help him, help him!” Her voice was too weak and she tried to sit up.

  One of the men eased her back down, but she resisted. “Katie, you need to lie down. Let them do their job.”

  She couldn’t watch him die right in front of her. Her screams grew louder. “Save him!”

  A moment later, she felt very tired and heavy. She turned her head to see the paramedic removing a needle from her IV line. He’d injected someth
ing in her. Those were the last words she remembered speaking.

  28

  The room appeared in fuzzy waves as Katie’s vision shifted in and out of focus. The nausea set in almost immediately. She rose up on one elbow and prepared for the worst when a plastic bowl was shoved under her chin just in time.

  “That’s the anesthesia. It makes a lot of people feel sick afterwards,” the nurse said. “Katie, do you know where you are?”

  Her head was pounding still and to try to turn to answer was nearly impossible.

  “You’re in St. Joseph’s Hospital in Eureka. You’ve just come out of surgery for a gunshot wound. The surgery went well and you are in recovery right now.”

  “Where’s Marshall?” The raspy sound that escaped her throat took her by surprise, as did the resulting soreness from the intubation.

  “The doctor will be in soon to check on you. With everything you’ve been through, you really ought to rest.” The nurse glossed over her question.

  Katie knew that was never a good sign. Someone had better tell her what was going on with Marshall before she went into an outright panic attack.

  No doctors around, only other nurses tending to their patients. Where was Scarborough? He would know about Marshall.

  Still fading in and out of consciousness from the residual anesthesia coursing through her veins, Katie struggled to stay alert and get some answers. “Nurse?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

  The woman turned around and walked back toward Katie’s bed. “Yes, Katie?”

  “Agent Scarborough? I need to talk to him, please.”

  “I’m sorry, but you’re still in ICU recovery and visitors aren’t allowed in here. Once you’re moved to your room, visitors can come and see you.” The nurse took Katie’s hand. “I’m so sorry about what happened to you and I truly wish I could help, but it is crucial that you rest. It won’t be much longer, I promise.”

  Katie leaned back onto her pillow, defeated, panicked, and unsure of what the hell was going on. One thing was clear; she wasn’t going to get any answers as long as she was in here.

  The doctor stood at her bed, holding her chart, but it wasn’t until he spoke that she was roused back to consciousness again. She hadn’t even realized she drifted off except that it was now two hours later, according to the clock.

  “Katie, you’re awake,” the doctor said. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better.” The soreness in her throat was fading, but no less dry. But more importantly, her head was gaining clarity. “How long have I been in recovery?”

  “About four hours in total. You’re doing well enough to be moved, so they’re getting your room ready now.”

  “Doctor, can you tell me about the other man who came in with me? Marshall Avery? Is he all right?”

  “I am aware of the patient, but I’m afraid he’s not in my care and I’ve not been informed as to his condition.”

  Anger was brewing insider her now as she continued to get the runaround. The doctor must have known of Marshall’s condition. “Can someone around here please tell me if Marshall Avery is alive or dead?” Her voice escalated to the point that she caught the attention of a few of the other patients. It hurt like hell, but she got her point across.

  “Just give me a moment, please, Katie, and I’ll do my best to get some answers for you. In the meantime, these gentlemen are going to take you to your room.”

  “Thank you, doctor.” Katie refused to apologize for her outburst after what she’d been through.

  The nurses wheeled her bed down the corridor. She watched the ceiling tiles pass overhead and from the corner of her eye caught sight of a few Rio Dell cops and some FBI agents she didn’t know. Why were they hanging around? Hendrickson was dead and as far as she knew, Scarborough had escaped unharmed.

  When they got to her room, the nurses pulled the gurney parallel to her bed, grabbed the corners of her sheet, and lifted her onto it. It was in that moment she realized the pain meds weren’t as effective as she thought and any movement was still excruciating.

  “Is this comfortable for you, Katie?” one of the men asked.

  “Yes, thank you.” It wasn’t, but the only thing that mattered to her now was hearing of Marshall’s condition.

  “Press this button if you need help and this one here, attached to your IV, is for pain. It does have a limit, but if you find that your discomfort level is too much after the limit’s been reached, just call for a nurse and they’ll see what they can do.”

  Discomfort level? she thought. No amount of medication was going to help her through this pain. “Thank you. I understand.” Her patience was growing thin. Where was Scarborough? She needed her phone, but then remembered it was lying on the floor of an abandoned house, having been smashed against the wall. What was worse was that she was starting to remember everything, including seeing an unconscious Marshall lying next to her in the helicopter, men scrambling to save his life. She tried to squeeze her eyes shut, except it hurt too much.

  “Knock, knock.” A weary-looking FBI agent was standing at the door.

  Oh, thank God. “Agent Scarborough, please come in.” Before she let him say a word, she pounced on him, begging for answers. “I need to know; they wouldn’t tell me anything. Is Marshall alive?” Her heart raced with anticipation.

  “Yes, Katie. He’s alive, but he’s still in surgery.”

  “Still in surgery? I’ve been out for hours. Nick, what happened to him?”

  “He was shot in the chest, just below his heart. That’s the good news.”

  At this point in the conversation, all she cared about was hearing the words, “He’s alive.”

  “But Hendrickson used hollow point bullets, meaning that there are several fragments still in his chest. It damaged a lot of tissue, which unfortunately, is exactly what it’s supposed to do. The doctors are working very hard to repair that damage.”

  “But I got shot too. Why am I not in as bad a shape?”

  “It was dark in that cellar, Katie. The situation escalated too quickly and Hendrickson didn’t shoot you. I did.”

  “Oh.” This was new information for which she was unprepared.

  “I’m so sorry, Katie. It was my bullet and you were caught in the crossfire. Hendrickson had his gun on you, then just pointed it at Marshall and started shooting. When we returned fire, he pulled you directly in front of him, using you as a shield. I think that was his intent all along, to have one of us, ideally Marshall, be the one to kill you, not him. He figured that would cause the most pain, I guess. He was a sick son of a bitch. Anyway, I thought I had a clear shot, but he moved you too fast and my bullet struck your side. Fortunately, it was a clean hit and went straight through you. Thank God. I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Katie.”

  “You saved my life. It would have ended very badly for me if you hadn’t shown up when you did. I know I’d be dead right now.”

  “Thank you. I tell you what, though, you’re a hell of a tough lady. He gave you quite a beating.” Scarborough took her hand.

  “Hendrickson is dead, right?”

  “Yes. We got him. He won’t hurt you or anyone else ever again.”

  Her eyes started to tear up at the thought of what he’d done. She raised her other hand to her face, touching the stitches on her temple. “Should leave a nice scar, huh?” Her voice quivered as the tears fell.

  Scarborough handed her a tissue but said nothing, only continued to offer his hand until she was ready to let it go.

  A few minutes later, she took a deep breath, ready to speak once again. “When will we know more about how Marshall is doing? Did they tell you when he’d be out of surgery?”

  “No. I don’t know much right now, but I’ll go find someone and get an update. Will you be okay?”

  “Yes. I just need to know what’s happening with him. I can’t lose him, Nick. I can’t.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out.” Agent Scarborough turned to leave.

  She was alone f
or just a few minutes when Deborah and John stepped in the room.

  “Oh God, Katie look at you!” Deborah broke down.

  “I’m okay, Mom.”

  “We didn’t know what the hell was happening for two days. They just kept telling us they had all their resources out looking for you,” John said. “They should be sued! Leaving you alone at that hospital when there was a goddam killer after you.”

  “Dad, please. It’s over now and I’m going to be fine.”

  “Thank God, you’re all right,” Deborah continued.

  “It’s over, Mom. It’s really over. He’s dead.”

  Deborah erupted into tears as John took hold of her. He took Katie’s hand, struggling to hold back his own tears.

  It was as if they’d both finally been released of the terrible secret they forced themselves to keep; a secret that almost destroyed their family.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt.” A doctor stood at the door next to Scarborough.

  Katie gently wiped her face with a tissue. “No, it’s fine. Please come in, doctor. Can you tell me what’s going on with Marshall Avery?”

  “I’m Dr. Ross, the cardiothoracic surgeon here at St. Joe’s. I understand you both are Ms. Reid’s parents?”

  “Yes,” John replied. “Nice to meet you, doctor.”

  “Very nice to meet you.”

  “Dr. Ross,” Katie interrupted. “I don’t mean to be rude, but please, I need to know what’s happening with Marshall.”

  “Of course, I am sorry. Agent Scarborough suggested I come in and tell you myself. Detective Avery is out of surgery and recovering in ICU. The surgery was successful, but it’s going to be a while before he stabilizes. He’s suffered a great deal of trauma to the tissue in his chest. If the bullet had fractured any closer to his heart, I’d be in here telling you a much different story.”

  “But he’ll be okay?” Katie asked.

  “As of right now, we are cautiously optimistic. We’ll know more in a few hours. Now, Mr. and Mrs. Reid, it is still very important that Katie rests, so if you can, please see to it that she does.”

  “Of course doctor, and thank you,” John replied.