Before It's Too Late

by Sara Driscoll

  “You can put it back?”

  Webb simply gave her a nonplussed look.

  “Of course you can. Sorry. Yes, please.”

  “Let’s get you out of this shirt first.” Webb helped her slide the shirt off her shoulders and arms, moving her right arm as little as possible. But she still couldn’t help the hiss of pain from escaping between her clenched teeth. It was then that Webb saw her punctured and bloody right hand and whistled.

  “That’s from when I hit the barbed wire. I still had the left glove on, so I could cushion my face with it. But I’d taken my right glove off so I was free to go for a weapon.”

  “We know McCord’s up to date on his tetanus, how about you?”

  “Always. SAR handlers never know where we’ll be and what conditions are like, so we stay up to date.”

  Webb gently picked up her hand, taking care not to jostle the arm, and examined it. “Not as bad as it could have been. Abrasions and a few small punctures. They’ll need a proper cleaning at the ER.”

  “No ER. We’d be stuck there for hours. You’re already doing my shoulder—you can do it all. Just tear a strip off the shirt to bind it for now.” She watched as he tore a long strip from the bottom of the shirt and methodically wrapped her right hand. “Okay, let’s do this. I have a feeling this isn’t going to be fun.”

  “Definitely not. Fair warning, it’s going to hurt like hell, because I don’t have any anesthetic. I need you to lie down.” He helped her sit; then he slipped one hand behind her neck and lowered her down into the grass.

  Footsteps announced another arrival and McCord entered Meg’s field of view.

  McCord bent over her, bracing both hands on his knees. “You okay?”

  Webb answered for her. “I’m going to reduce her shoulder. Put it back into place. She’s in a lot of pain and this will instantly help. If we wait until she gets to the hospital—”

  “I said no hospital,” Meg grated through a locked jaw. “If you do it, then I don’t need a hospital.”

  “If we theoretically waited until she got to a hospital, there’d be significant swelling and it would be harder to do. But they’d have anesthetics.”

  “Less talk, more action.”

  “You got it. I need you to relax the muscles in your shoulder.” He smiled at her cynical bark of laughter. “That’s the spirit. I know it’s going to be hard to do, but do your best or else I’m fighting your muscles and that will make it harder on both of us.” He wrapped one hand around her bandaged hand, raising it into the air so her arm was bent at a ninety-degree angle, and cupped his other hand under her elbow. “I’m going to apply traction to your arm while rotating it down toward the grass. This is the easiest way to do it without sedation, but it’s still going to hurt. During the rotation, you’ll feel the ball of the humerus slip back into place and the pain should drop right off. Ready?”

  She nodded.

  He gripped her hand tightly. “Okay, relax that shoulder as much as you can.” He pulled her elbow down toward his hip as he started to rotate the arm outward.

  Meg gasped as the pain spiked in nauseating waves; she bit her lip to hold back a cry, but held very still.

  “Doing great. Try to stay loose, just a little farther and—” There was an audible click as the bone slipped back into place.

  Meg’s body went slack as the pain suddenly seemed to evaporate.

  “There we are.” Webb rotated the arm back and laid her hand flat on her stomach. A quick tactile exam of her shoulder had him nodding his approval. “That worked nicely. You’re back where you should be. Can you sit up?” When she nodded, he helped her rise off the grass. “Okay?”

  “Pain’s not gone, but it’s much better, thanks.”

  Webb quickly fashioned a makeshift sling out of her discarded shirt. Then he and McCord helped her stand and catch her balance.

  “Thanks.” Meg raised her left hand to shield her eyes from the sun as an SUV and her father’s pickup pulled up. Before it had even stopped, Cara was out the passenger door and running toward her. Meg threw up a hand before Cara could throw her arms around her.

  “I’m okay, but hugs are out for a bit.”

  “Bet me.” Cara came around to her left side, slid her arm around her waist, and gave her an awkward one-handed hug. “See?”

  Meg laughed. “Never could keep you down.”

  “You either, apparently. It was terrifying listening remotely to what was going on. I loved when you baited him with the fact I was alive.”

  “Speaking of which, and maybe I’m being spiteful—but I kind of feel it’s my right currently—want to go say ‘hi’?”

  Cara’s grin was part joy, part calculation. “To show him in the flesh? Yes.”

  “This way then.” Meg led the way back across the grass, stopping briefly to greet her father, kissing his cheek and saying she’d be right back. Then she left Webb and McCord with him as she and Cara walked over to the now half-dozen agents who were walking the handcuffed Garber over toward the SUV. “Agents? Just a moment, please.”

  As a group, they halted and turned to her.

  “My sister wanted to say hello to an old friend.” Meg and Cara circled the group to stand in front of Garber. “Hey, Derek. Remember Cara? Oh, of course you do, you just saw her two days ago.”

  Before anyone could react fast enough to stop her, Cara slapped Garber full across the face with all her strength. Then she leaned in close to him. “Remember that the next time you think you ever had the upper hand. Six women survived your hideous urges. You lose in every way. You failed. More than that, you’re nothing. Just a footnote we’ll forget by next week.”

  She turned on her heel, threaded her arm through Meg’s uninjured one, and together they walked away from the man who’d made their lives hell, heads high and eyes fixed firmly on the future.

  CHAPTER 27

  Appomattox Court House: Contrary to common belief, Lee’s surrender at Appomattox Court House on April 9, 1865, did not mark the end of the Civil War. In fact, the last battle to be fought was won by the Confederate forces on May 13 at Palmito Ranch near the Texas-Mexico border; and the last Confederate forces to surrender were the men of the Cherokee Rifle brigade, under Brigadier General Stand Watie, on June 23 in what is now the state of Oklahoma.

  Friday, June 2, 8:20 PM

  Jennings residence

  Arlington, Virginia

  Brian stood up from where he sat with Ryan on the love seat, Lacey at his feet. “I’d like to make a toast.” The room quieted and all eyes turned to him. “It’s been a tough few weeks, but Meg has really shown us how to get the job done. To keep a level head, work the case, and save the victims, all while under immense stress. We could all learn from the master.” He raised his wineglass. “To a job well done. To Meg!” Bending, he clinked glasses with Ryan.

  The room echoed with “To Meg!”

  The idea of the small celebration had come from Cara, but had ballooned into a bigger get-together as word spread. Now instead of just family, it included Webb and McCord, as well as the whole Human Scent Evidence Team, Craig and Peters, and everyone’s partners and dogs. Blink, originally terrified by all the people, had attached himself to Webb, but was now happily flopped on the floor next to Rocco, lying beside Lauren and her current boyfriend of the month. The living room and the kitchen were full of dogs, but no one minded.

  Meg stood from where she sat on the couch between her mother and Cara, her right arm now in a proper sling, her bruised throat a bloom of dark tones of fuchsia and purple-black above the scooped neckline of her top. “Too kind, Brian, too kind.” She grinned when he simply inclined his head and then drained his wineglass before settling back on the couch and whispering something to Ryan that made him laugh. “Brian left out a few details. Mysteriously, one of the details he left out was his own contribution to the case. Amazing.” Brian took a dramatic mock bow amid the snickers of his coworkers. “But it’s not just Brian. It’s Lauren, and Scott, and Craig
. It’s Hawk, Lacey, Rocco, and Theo.” Rocco, hearing his name, let out an enthusiastic bark.

  “Shhhh, knucklehead,” Lauren said affectionately, ruffling his fur. “No one asked for your opinion.”

  “It’s also EAD Peters . . .” She scanned the room. “Has he disappeared again?”

  “In the kitchen, refilling my glass.” Peters’s voice carried through the kitchen doorway. “You people drive me to drink, and I can’t do it on the job.”

  The room exploded with laughter as Peters strolled out back into the living room with a very full glass of red wine. He raised the glass in salute to Meg as he wound back through the room toward his wife. Meg shook her head in disbelief. Peters the hard-ass was proving to be a very sociable person, once you got him out of the office and out of his suit.

  “It’s also EAD Peters,” Meg repeated, “who green-lighted the final takedown and gave us more leeway than other supervisors. That leeway allowed us to be successful.” She turned to where McCord sat on the arm of the sofa beside Cara, and toward Webb, who stood behind him, nursing a beer. “And the case would be nowhere, absolutely nowhere, without Clay McCord and Todd Webb. I owe you two more than I’ll ever be able to repay. You gave me back my sister.”

  McCord, no doubt hearing the emotion in her voice, leapt into the fray to lighten the tension. “No worries. Next time I need a scoop on a case, you’ll be there for me.” He sent her a cheesy smile full of white teeth. “Right?”

  “Wrong.” Peters’s voice boomed from the back of the room.

  “Shoot. Well, at least I can write about this case. Especially my favorite part of it.”

  “And what was that?” Webb asked. “When you solved the riddle and saved the day?”

  “Nah. I was thinking more along the lines of when Cara hauled off and slapped the bastard and then told him off. That was absolutely glorious.”

  Cara repeated Brian’s mock bow amid clapping and cheering.

  “Of course, early on,” Meg continued, once the room finally got quieter, “my sister, Cara, was crucial to solving many of the riddles. Many thanks for lending me your big, beautiful brain. And, last but not least, thanks to our parents, who opened up their home and beloved rescue to a dangerous op and all the FBI agents who came with it. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

  Her father simply squeezed her mother’s shoulder and gave a solemn nod.

  “So all I can say is this.” She raised the glass in her gauze-wrapped right hand. “You all made a difference in this case and I am grateful to each and every one of you for it. To teamwork!”

  “To teamwork!” And everyone drank.

  Time to get out of the spotlight. “We don’t normally close a case with a party like this, but this one is special. So refill your glasses, please”—at the back of the room, Peters raised his now half-empty glass—“and help yourself to food. Enjoy!” She sat back down on the couch and let the chatter rise up around her as her mother gave her a half hug from her left and her father’s hand comfortingly rubbed her back.

  A few minutes later, as talk and laughter abounded, Meg quietly slipped from the sofa and moved toward the door. Hawk, who always had one eye on her, got up to follow, and when she slid open the screen door to the deck, he slipped out with her.

  She stepped out onto the quiet deck with her glass of wine. She crossed over to the railing on the far side and set her glass down. Hawk followed her and flopped down beside her, drawing in a lungful of cool late spring air and letting it out with a contented sigh. Meg looked up at the cloudless sky, where the stars sparkled and the sliver of moon tipped the backyard in ghostly white.

  The sound of the sliding door opening and closing had her looking over her shoulder. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” said Webb, still standing with one hand on the handle. “Want company or would you prefer some peace and quiet?”

  “I’d like your company. But, yes, I needed a break from the chaos in there. Big parties sometimes make me a little crazy. Too much noise, too many people—I just needed a moment.”

  Webb crossed the deck and put his beer down beside her wine, then set his hands down on the railing on either side of her hips. Not quite embracing her, giving her the freedom to keep her distance, but opening the door for her.

  She walked through it, leaning back against him, and his arms moved to encircle her stomach.

  “Just before the party started, we heard Michelle came out of her coma. Doctors are very encouraged and think she’ll make a full recovery.”

  “That’s fantastic news. Another life saved by you and the teams. So what’s next?” he asked.

  “Next at work? Well, I get two full weeks off, to let this shoulder heal. Then, assuming I have the doctor’s approval and promise to continue with my physical therapy, I can come back to light duties. Full duties in four weeks. Peters considers this a win-win situation because it takes care of my concussion too.”

  “How’s your head feeling?”

  “Not bad, considering it got thrown around a bit yesterday.”

  “Good.” He was silent for a moment, staring off into the shadows draping the yard. “You know, I think McCord has a thing for your sister.”

  She turned in surprise to look at him over her shoulder. “I thought I was the only one who saw that. I realized the day she went missing that he was more deeply worried than I expected. And then there was his level of desperation when you two were trying to keep her alive underwater, and the way he was hanging over her when we pulled her out. Put it all together and I think there might be something there.”

  “For him. What about for her?”

  “She’s always seemed to like him. There’s always been a lot of healthy sarcasm between them, but that could just be the way they relate.”

  “Kind of like in third grade when you like a girl so you tease her, just to get her to look at you?”

  Meg laughed. “Something like that. I guess time will tell.”

  “And what about us?”

  “What about us?”

  “We still haven’t managed an actual date yet. Every time we make plans, something comes up.”

  “It won’t in the next two weeks. Stake your claim now and I promise to show up. It would be nice to do something fun, not something stressful or that has a life depending on it.”

  “That would be novel for us, wouldn’t it?”

  “It really would be. But, for now, I’m just happy to enjoy a little quiet with you.”

  He pulled her in close and she tipped her head back against his chest and looked up at the stars.

  The buzz of conversation filtered through the sliding glass door and Meg took comfort in Brian’s booming laugh, the sound of Cara at the blender making more mixed drinks, the relaxed breathing of the dog at her feet, and the strength of the man at her back.

  There was no danger, no missing persons, and no puzzles. For tonight, there was only peace.

  About the Author

  Sara Driscoll is the pen name of Jen J. Danna and Ann Vanderlaan, authors of the Abbott and Lowell Forensic Mysteries. Jen is an infectious disease researcher at a cutting edge Canadian university near Toronto, but loves to spend her free time writing the thrilling and mysterious. Ann lives in central Texas with five rescued pit bulls, including Kane, now a certified therapy dog. She also trains with Kane for competitive nose work. You can follow the latest news on the FBI K-9 Mysteries at www.saradriscollauthor.com.

  In the first book in a thrilling new series, FBI Special Agent Meg Jennings and Hawk, her loyal search-and-rescue Labrador, must race against time as they zero in on one of the deadliest killers in the country . . .

  Meg and Hawk are part of the FBI’s elite K-9 unit. Hawk can sniff out bodies anywhere—living or dead—whether it’s tracking a criminal or finding a missing person. When a bomb rips apart a government building on the National Mall in Washington D.C., it takes all of the team’s extensive search-and-rescue training to locate and save the workers and visitors buried beneat
h the rubble.

  But even as the duo are hailed as heroes, a mad bomber remains at large, striking terror across the Eastern seaboard in a ruthless pursuit of retribution. As more bombs are detonated and the body count escalates, Meg and Hawk are brought in to a task force dedicated to stopping the unseen killer. But when the attacks spiral wide and any number of locations could be the next target, it will come down to a battle of wits and survival skills between Meg, Hawk, and the bomber they’re tracking to rescue a nation from the brink of chaos.

  Acknowledgments

  Writing a novel is never a solitary job, and this one was no exception. I was helped along the journey by a number of historical and technical experts, and owe them many thanks for their assistance: Johnny Johnsson, a local expert on the Choate Mine at Soldiers Delight Environment Area who generously shared his personal pictures of the mine, as well as several professional papers on its history; Lynell Tobler, vice president of the Soldiers Delight Conservation Inc. for her research assistance; Captain Lisa Giblin of the South Placer Fire Department for sharing her knowledge of firefighter/paramedic training, as well as for medical consultations; South Placer Fire Department’s Battalion Chief Jason Brooks, Engineer Paramedic Darrin Mayo, and Intern Firefighter Lyubov Gavrilyuk for an interesting roundtable discussion about the best ways to kill someone by positional asphyxiation; and Round Rock police officer Noah Moncivais and his pit bull partner, Harley, for sharing their training and experience as a drug, scent detection, and tracking team.

  My writing has been supported by a fantastic group of people from the publishing industry and beyond: Peter Senftleben, who not only started the series with me, but encouraged this particular novel; Esi Sogah, who enthusiastically jumped into the fray and was instrumental in shaping the final story; my agent, Nicole Resciniti, who is always working diligently behind the scenes in every way possible; and my critique team—Lisa Giblin, Jenny Lid-strom, Rick Newton, and Sharon Taylor—for once again offering their time and talents to take a rough first draft and turn it into a polished, cohesive manuscript.