by A Wallace
Her number at the top of the list of recent calls, he tapped the phone.
“Answer. Please, answer the damn phone.”
The ringtone of a distressed mooing cow rang from under the car. Murphy dropped to the ground. Facedown on the pavement, he fumbled beneath the vehicle and grabbed the phone. On the glass screen: ‘Agent Asshole calling...’
“Oh gawd, oh gawd.” He hopped to his feet, stuffing her phone inside of his leather jacket.
His hands shook as he called Greg, who, along with the other men, remained at his house to clean the mess.
“Drop everything,” Murphy ordered, “get over here. Faraday’s missing.” His fingers pressed into his forehead. “I found her phone. The car is abandoned.”
“We’ll be there in ten.”
Murphy scanned the area. Except for the depression in the driver’s side door, and the smashed glass, there was no sign of a scuffle or altercation.
“Faraday, where are you?” Murphy whispered while the stabbing pangs of guilt pounded his chest. He walked to the rear of the car. Nothing distinct or out of place. He checked around the passenger side. Everything was intact. If I were Faraday, where would I go? As he estimated the distance from the main entrance to her car, he wondered why she left it in overflow parking.
He scanned the length of the side of the building as he stepped onto the sidewalk, leading to the rear of the facility. While he trotted across the path, a floodlight attached to the corner cast a broad glow. As he neared the corner, a glimmer in the grass captured his attention near the edge of the building. He bent over and found her broken crescent moon necklace intertwined in the grass. Murphy covered his eyes with his hand. Oh, man, I shouldn’t have stalled. I wanted to annoy her.
He sprinted around the dark alley. The lack of exterior lighting behind the building reduced visibility. I’m such an asshole. She called me. Me, and what do I do? I chucked her aside and hung up. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he spotted a kneeling figure.
Still several yards away, he increased his speed and focused. Blonde hair shined in the faint quarter moonlight.
To his horror, a man wearing an oversized hoodie, shielding his face, stood behind Charley. Her hands tied behind her, her long hair twisted around his palm. The man tightened his grip around her mane and forced Charley forward with a revolver pointed at her head.
Charley and Murphy’s eyes met after she lifted her chin in his direction. With a single blink of her eyes, it was as if she told him goodbye.
“Sean,” Charley said in a muted tone drawing the assailant’s attention.
The man hit her on the head with the butt of the gun. “Shut up.”
Charley remained motionless, refusing to respond, she stared at the ground.
Murphy reached around the back of his pants to remove his Sig Sauer. Eager to leave the poker game, he left the holster hanging on the hook by the garage door. As he crept closer, his stomach twisted, droplets of sweat streamed past his temples. The thumping of his heart racing in his chest was near unbearable.
His breath faltered. Regret overpowered the bad blood between them. A strong, competent woman, who refused to give her attacker any satisfaction, she did not struggle. If he made any sudden move, her life would end. Murphy took a single step, a branch cracked under his foot. The assailant’s head turned in his direction.
Murphy threatened despite the danger. “Let her go.” He kept his hand secured in the back of his jeans to indicate he had a weapon.
Charley remained slumped over as her capturer tightened the grip on her hair, the barrel of the revolver buried into her scalp.
“Let her go,” Murphy repeated. “This is Virginia. Automatic death penalty for the murder of a law enforcement officer. Is that what you want?”
The man glanced at Murphy as sirens wailed in the heavy cool night air. His attention deferred. “This bitch owes me.” The assailant twisted her hair tighter, yanking her head back. With the butt of his weapon, he smacked her head, and pushed her forward causing her semi-unconscious body to fall facedown into the grass. The assailant fled in the opposite direction toward the intersection.
Murphy rushed to Charley, fumbling for the phone. After hitting the emergency call button, he identified himself using his code.
He stumbled through his words, speaking as fast as possible. “8-3-5-4-4, 5-3-4-4-8 is down, I repeat, 5-3-4-4-8 is down. Behind Breckenridge Sports Complex at the corner of Bolivar and Spring Street. Requesting immediate medical assistance.” He wiped his eyes. “The assailant ran towards the intersection. The unknown subject is a white male, medium height and slim build. He’s wearing jeans and a dark hoodie, without a zipper.” Murphy sighed. “Please, hurry.”
He dropped to his knees next to Charley’s motionless body. His lungs burned as his breath seared through his throat. He raised his trembling hands, fighting back the river laying heavy in his eyes. Murphy placed his palm on her back relieved to sense the slight rise and fall of her lungs. He bit his lower lip and looked to the sky.
“Hang on Faraday, help’s coming.” He fought guilt and remorse as he untied her hands. Saturated with blood, her hair clumped from two gashes in her head.
Charley’s body flopped as he eased her onto her back. He brushed away the bloody strands of hair pasted to her face and sighed with relief, seeing no facial injuries.
He determined her airway was clear. However, her breath was shallow and intermittent. He established a weak and irregular pulse with her carotid artery.
“They’re coming Faraday, just a little longer.” He held her hand. The scrapes on her knuckles implied an intense altercation. “You really fought back, didn’t you?”
His eyes trailed her body. Her shoe and sock were missing from her right foot. The condition of the foot told him she struck her attacker with full force.
Murphy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He slipped his arms under Charley and cradled her. Her cheek resting on his chest, he stroked her blood-matted hair, finding another gash above her ear. A tear emerged from the outer corner of her eye as she released a slight moan.
“It’s okay, Faraday. You’re tough, hang in there.”
His cheek on her forehead, Murphy rocked her, caressing her hair. Charley twitched, opening her eyes. She raised her hand and peered at him, brushing his cheek with her fingertips.
“Everything is gonna be okay.” He cupped her cheek in his palm.
Her eyes closed, her arm dropped, she gasped. A rattle came from deep within her throat as if trying to speak. Her head fell back as she became limp.
“Oh, gawd, no, Faraday.” Murphy held her closer. His hands trembled, touching her face. “You can’t do this. No, no, no, no, no. Wake-up. Stay with me. Who will annoy me? I need you to stay with me.”
The roar of an ambulance came from behind them. First Responders rolled from the vehicle, dragging a stretcher with them.
The EMTs attempted to pry her away from him. “Sir, let go of her, so we can help her.”
His eyes glazed, Murphy didn’t move. The paramedic squeezed Murphy’s shoulder. “Let us help her.”
Murphy relented, loosening his grip on Charley. “Don’t hurt her.” He released her and sat on the back of his legs. His hands on his knees he rocked back and forth. Murphy swiped his face, smearing her blood from his forehead to his chin. He stood, taking a few steps back as his head dropped, noticing his blood-soaked shirt and hands. “Don’t let her die.”
“We’re here to help her.” The EMTs administered emergency care, stabilized her, and loaded her into the ambulance.
Before Murphy entered the ambulance, Ted, Steve, Ethan, and Greg ran towards them. Murphy dug his keys from his pocket and tossed them to Greg.
“Here… take these, and follow the ambulance to the trauma center,” Murphy said. “I’m not leaving her.” He climbed into the ambulance.
Greg bounced Murphy’s keys in his hand. “Little late, don’t ya think?”
Murphy’s eyes narr
owed as he slammed the doors and pounded on the metal three times. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 13
Dawn Has Broken
Northern Virginia Regional Medical Center
Friday – 22 April – 6:24 AM
Minutes before sunrise Murphy sat by Charley’s bedside. He parked his elbow on the chair arm, cupping his hand over his dry, itchy, red eyes. Murphy yawned and covered his mouth longing for sleep.
An oxygen mask connected to a ventilator sealed her mouth and nose. Charley’s eyes remained closed, while her hands were by her side. Hypertonic saline dripped from the IV bag into her vein to prevent swelling of the brain. The monitor reported her vitals were stable.
Two days ago, he ignored her request for help. Regret badgered him. If he had been one moment later, she wouldn’t be lying in a hospital bed, but a casket.
Medical tests showed Charley suffered from two depressed cranial fractures to the back of the head and one simple linear fracture on the right, which doctors concluded was the first strike. None of her injuries required surgery since no bone needed lifting due to pressure on the brain. Tests indicated normal brain activity and no permanent physical damage. Amnesia could not be determined.
Concerned about what she would remember, Murphy hoped her memory didn’t include he dismissed her plea for help.
No chance.
He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, trying to erase the tension. “Please open your eyes.” Murphy covered his face with his hands, craving coffee. In a drug-induced coma since her admission, the staff conveyed Charley should wake on her own by noon.
Through the window, the sun crested the horizon, daylight swept into the room. His stomach growled begging for nourishment. Murphy held her hand. “I’ll be back. I’m going to the cafeteria for breakfast. Don’t start the day without me.” He stood, combed Charley’s hair from her eyes with his fingers, and stroked her cheek. “Promise me, no partying until I return.” With a sigh, he turned toward the door as RN Donna Tolliver met him.
“You leaving?” Donna said.
“Grab some breakfast downstairs.” Murphy gestured towards Charley. “If she wakes up, please call or text me.”
“All right,” Donna said.
“Thank you.” He trotted towards the elevator.
After eating, he rode the elevator to the fourth floor to room 420. He stopped in front of the half-open sliding glass door. The bed angled parallel to the glass wall. On the covers, no longer wearing a blue hospital gown, Charley wore purple track pants and a t-shirt. Reclined with her legs straight and ankles crossed, she browsed a magazine. He sighed, slid the door open, and stepped into the room. “Faraday? How do you feel? All right?”
Charley closed in on his eyes.
Murphy sauntered to her bedside. “Uhm, yeah, are you okay? What did the doctor say?”
“I’m gonna live.”
Murphy planted his hands on his hips. “Mind if I play investigator?”
“Sure.”
“Do you remember returning to your car after leaving the complex?”
Charley nodded.
“You remember our conversation?”
“I’ll never forget that discussion.”
“Great.” Murphy frowned. “What happened next?”
“You saying ‘let her go’. Why didn’t you shoot him?”
“Uh, yeah, about that.” His cheeks flushed. “I left so fast I forgot my Sig.”
“Are you serious? What agent leaves without their weapon?” Her hand flittered toward him. “You.”
“Where was your gun?”
“In the pouch of my backpack.”
“I didn’t check there.” He glanced to the side, recalling all the mistakes he had made that night. Fear overtook his logic. “Why weren’t you wearing your weapon?”
“I had on track pants and a t-shirt. I don’t equip my weapon for public view. After our phone conversation he clocked me on the side of the head.”
“You fought.”
“After he hit me I ducked, slipped on the gravel, and fell against the car. I lunged for him, he shifted to the left, and when I attempted a roundhouse, I broke the window. He ran to the rear of the building. I chased him.” She laid her hand on her chest and twiddled her fingers as if searching for something.
Murphy withdrew an object from the inside of his leather jacket. “Looking for this?” A gold chain dangled from the tip of his index finger.
“My necklace. You found it.” She covered her mouth as tears filled her eyes. “Thank you, so much. I can’t believe the chain isn’t broken.”
“Let me help.” He leaned toward her to place the necklace over her head.
She raised her hand to stop him.
“What?”
She placed the pendant in her palm. “This isn’t my chain.”
Murphy tapped his foot. “Uhm, I replaced it for you.”
Surprised, she flinched. “Thank you. I thought it was history. This necklace means so much. I never remove it.”
“Glad I found it. Tell me more.”
“While we ran behind the building I grabbed him. The wet grass caused us to lose our footing and we tumbled to the ground. Next, he pulled the weapon on me. I knew I was in trouble. My weapon was in my backpack in the car. The area was dark, no lighting. I didn’t get a good look at his face.”
Murphy cupped her head with his hands. “Lower your head for me.”
She complied.
“Sutures look good.”
“He said my name, Murphy.”
“What? He knows you?”
She nodded. “I didn’t recognize the voice. I don’t know who he is.”
“Someone you put away?”
“They’re in prison or dead. Or they were two days ago.”
“Maybe a family member, friend, or an associate of someone you busted?”
“Hmm, possible.” Charley shifted, slinging her legs over the side of the bed. Murphy hustled towards her, placing his hands on her upper arms.
“Oh, no, you don’t. Not on my watch. Stay in bed. You may feel okay, but head trauma is tricky. Dizziness is common and I don’t want you to fall.” He slipped his arm under her knees and put the other around her waist, lifting her back onto the bed. “What else happened?”
She released his arm and folded her hands in her lap. “Next, I’m on my knees with a gun pointed at my head. When I saw you I was confident I’d be okay.” Her eyes narrowed as she tightened her lips. “So much for telling you to shoot him.”
“When did you tell me? You never said a word.” His brow furrowed. “No, that isn’t right. You called me Sean. You don’t call me by my first name.”
“I did? Humph.” She leaned towards him and batted her eyes. “I blinked.”
“Blinked? That’s supposed to tell me to shoot the guy? Really? How in the hell would I know that?”
“Doesn’t matter anymore.” Charley bowed her head. “He said I destroyed his life. Plenty of those.”
“The weapon?”
“Revolver. Snub nose, five shot, blue steel. Model thirty-seven Smith.”
“You’re sure?”
“Well, gee, hang on a sec and I’ll give you the serial number.” She plopped back onto the bed.
“He didn’t intend to kill you.”
“I’m not sure.” She crossed her arms over her chest, massaged her shoulders, and whimpered. “I’m so sore and achy.”
Murphy adjusted her pillow. “Your head needs to stay upright.”
“We’ve notified all area hospitals for anyone who comes in with injuries. So far nothing.”
“Expected.” She dropped her head, covered her face with her hands, and yawned.
“Have you spoken to Doobie and Scott?”
“Yeah.” She tossed the magazine onto the tray. “They leave Boston in the morning.”
“You called from your room phone?”
Charley shook her head. “I used a nurse’s cell.”
Murphy removed
her phone from his back pocket. “That being said.” He bounced the mobile at her. “This must be yours. I found it under your car.”
“Thanks.” She placed the mobile on the bedside table.
“Glad you called Doobie. Saves me.”
“Why would you?” Her brow wrinkled.
“They weren’t here. I stayed with you.”
“You stayed with me?”
“We didn’t want you here alone.”
“Forced, were you?”
“No, I wanted to.”
“Why?”
“I told you. I didn’t want you to be alone.”
“You should’ve thought about that two days ago.”
“Could we not—”
“Oh, yes, we will, someday.”
Murphy brushed her hair from her eyes. “Are you aware you lost a lot of blood? You had a blood transfusion.”
“My blood-type is rare. It was available?”
He rolled his sleeve and pointed to the bend of his arm. “From my arm to yours. We have the same type, AB negative.”
“I have your blood polluting mine? Great, I’m adulterated.”
“Our blood cells are dancing and partying making blood cell babies.” He laughed
Charley dropped her head, shielded her eyes, and snickered.
Murphy removed her hands from her face, focusing on her eyes. “I’m flowing in your veins. How will you manage such a dangerous concoction?”
“My soul just rotted.” She chuckled and smiled. “Thanks, I hope it hurt.”
“Nope.” His eyes sought hers, trying to hold her attention. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. Considering our relationship, I would have done the same to you, to make a point.”
“We’re both wrong.” Murphy indicated the two of them with his forefinger. “We’re partners. It’s our responsibility to watch each other’s six. I failed you. Even though you say you would’ve done the same, you wouldn’t.”
“But you did.”
“I wanted you to squirm. It’ll never happen again.”
Charley shrugged. “You didn’t know what would happen. You live to agitate me. I understand. It’s fine. I’m not angry.”
