Secure Again

by R L Dunn

  "He’s visiting another patient. Do you need something?" Dennis stood.

  "We need to discuss Lola's long-term needs. I told Mr. Bailey I have deep concerns about Lola's condition when she arrived at Horizon."

  Trask's right eye twitched. "She was caught in an explosion."

  "Yes, I’m aware of that. But her underlying condition goes beyond that. She was malnourished, neglected and showed signs of fetal drug exposure. She is fragile and will require constant care for some time."

  "What are you trying to say, Doctor?" A vein on Trask’s forehead throbbed.

  "I understand Mr. Bailey adopted Lola. Believe me, that is wonderful. We ask every parent to create a care plan, and then we’ll assess his ability to follow the plan before we can discharge Lola to a safe environment with confidence."

  Dennis Bailey was even-keeled in the most trying times, but his temper flared. "Doctor, let me make something very clear to you: my son Martin will move heaven and earth to take care of this sweet baby. Don't you for one second think otherwise."

  "I hope you're right, Mr. Bailey." She left the room.

  Dennis Bailey arched his brow at Trask. "I don't like that woman. My granddaughter does not leave this room on her authority."

  Two doors down, Tighe guarded Lissa. The little girl was growing more alert. It amazed him that she giggled at the children's television programming. On cue with a commercial, he asked, "Lissa, can we talk for a few minutes?"

  "Uh huh." Lissa gave him her attention.

  "Lissa, can you tell me about being at Uncle Boyd's?"

  "I don't wanna." She held the Raggedy Ann Tighe brought her.

  "Would you draw me a picture?" He set her up with paper and crayons. As time went on, Lissa started to draw. He texted for assistance at the first glimpses of her art.

  The Thursday morning sun rose above the horizon as sweaty palms gripped his laptop. Martin's fingers were callused from scrolling back and forth, reading and rereading every report, hoping for anything positive. Hailey Ullman and Pietra Hahn remained missing. Checks on traffic cameras, ATM cameras, Lyft, Uber, cab companies, and buses came up empty with the exception of the cab Hailey escaped in. It dropped her off in the center of town. No cameras picked her up after that.

  The ache in the back of his throat added to his roiling stomach. Troy was returned to segregation and denied a meeting with Sutton. The petition she made to the court would not be heard until Monday. Kevin “Boomer” Harper, a Bravo team member working as a guard reported,

  Troy out of view for three hours. At first available check-in, Troy didn't use the duress word. He could not make eye contact. Scheduled to be returned to the general population after the evening meal. Will attempt second contact as soon as possible.

  "Zach, Troy's been out of sight too long. I'm worried. Should I pull him?" Martin doubted himself.

  "Wes is going to make contact tonight. He's assigned to the adjoining cellblock. Troy won't want to be pulled," Zach insisted.

  Martin spoke in a monotone, "When are they going to make that apology to Elizabeth?"

  "We’re heading to Ragan's office around ten. Martin, you’re exhausted. Get some rest. I'm taking you off notification unless mission critical until noon,” Zach advised.

  Fay Bailey joined them, carrying three substantial shopping bags, and unpacked a huge breakfast. "I know this is breaking the rules, but you aren't eating."

  A crisp piece of bacon crunched in Martin's mouth. "Mmm. Thanks, Mom."

  Eric smiled. "Thank you, Mrs. Bailey. Could you bring Pete and Tuck theirs? We’ll save ours until we go off shift."

  "Let me, Mrs. Bailey." After assuring Martin took a portion, Zach headed out with the bags and Fay beside him.

  Jamie patted the bed beside Elizabeth. "She's off the cooling blankets. Her temp is normal. C'mon, lie down beside her. You need some real sleep. We won't let you miss anything."

  "You're sure?" Martin kicked off his shoes, spooned her and fell into his first good sleep in days. "I'm here, Sunshine."

  Mike initiated a video conference call with Kieran. Tate, Ford, Zach, and Julian sat at the table with him.

  "How's everyone holding up?" Kieran checked in on his senior operators.

  "We're fine. Martin is hurting and exhausted, so we took him offline. I'll brief him after he gets some rest," Mike said.

  Kieran rolled his eyes. "Pete filed his report. Martin is behaving—that’s worrisome. Where are we in the investigation?"

  "Lissa Satanta was born to Jasper Satanta and Joselyn Bishop four years ago. SPD found Joselyn’s body three months ago in a shooting gallery in West Silverton. If Lissa's timeline is correct, she spent two and a half months with Uncle Boyd. Tighe reports Lissa is drawing pictures. He's pushing as hard as she'll let him. Lissa's nurse, Vanessa, called me. She's worried Tighe is becoming too attached. I'll talk to him. Um, Boss, we’re all losing a bit of perspective," Mike sighed.

  "Ian and I are aware."

  Mike rolled his pencil between his fingers. "Noah and Kip went at Krystal Slater for six hours. They think she sang as much possible. She loved Knox, and the bastard played her. She doesn't know anyone higher than Hailey and never mentioned Pietra. They don't think it’s an act."

  Tate added, "We think that's why this worked so long. No one knows too much."

  "Hailey Ullman is in the wind. No sign of Pietra Hahn at her apartment. Covert eyes are on her address, and her car remains under surveillance in the hospital garage. Archie is going through video frame by frame, looking for how she left the hospital. Her cell phone is off," Zach said.

  "Rerunning this in my head, there’s this pyramid of medical personnel. Someone is giving them cover. Hal Dufour? He's hospital administration. But he doesn't have the power to make schedules or provide medical care," Tate said.

  "Craig Hillinger is the Chief of Medicine. The hospital legal department is diverting all our attempts to question him," Ford said.

  Julian turned his eyes downward. "I don't want to carry this thought through, but if they were euthanizing adults, what about kids? Or when they’re done with them, are they trafficking them?”

  "Tech is running every pediatric death and missing child in the past two years." Mike shook his head. "Legal is trying to negotiate for Hillinger to come in on his own."

  Kieran forced the update ahead, "Where are we on Corrections?"

  "One of the corrections officers is Boyd Thomas. Not a common name. If he's Uncle Boyd…" Julian's voice trailed off. "Tighe is waiting for the treatment team to grant permission for Lissa to view photos. To be honest, I hope they never do. Alden McAllister was implicated by Tonette Torres as her rapist. Red reports he and Boyd are interested in Troy as well.”

  Kieran pulled out his phone. "The second we hear anything more about Troy, I want to know. Ford, talk to Shaun Murray and make a formal request for his help. Ian got permission for a legal wiretap on the phones going into Silverton PD. Anything new on the bombing?"

  "Interesting. Trip Mathias of SWAT is handling the explosives investigation. He's saying all the right things, but my gut says otherwise. Beck Ferguson is questionable. Murray said he hates Austin," Ford said. "Did he pull the cops off Tonette's door to give Satanta time to kill her? And then they could kill Satanta? Both Shaun and Emerson reported Mathias was pissed off that Martin didn't kill Satanta. Remember, Mathias used to work for Talbot Reed when he was governor.”

  Kyle Cooper came into the room. "Folks, listen to this. Thibodaux Spooner grew up as Cicely Moody. She married Fulton Spooner thirty years ago. Fulton died eight years ago. After his death, she transitioned to become Thibodaux Spooner. The Assistant Director of Corrections is related to Cecile Dufour and Celine McAllister." Their pictures on the whiteboard received marked connections in red. "Clay Jenner is another issue. There is no footprint of him earlier than nineteen years ago. Mike, I need your permission to tap into WitSec. If he's not there, then I don’t know. Also…"

  "What?" Mike asked.

&
nbsp; "Clay Jenner spends many weekends in Chicago. He stays at the Omni. Review of their security photos from two weeks ago showed an interesting face checking in an hour after he did: Todd Duran from Homeland."

  "I want that connection confirmed," Kieran said.

  "One more thing—the background on Cleo Nolan came up clear, but my gut is still burning." Kyle shook his head.

  Tate frowned. "Follow your gut. Take her to dinner. Work her."

  The faces around the conference table displayed angst. "As far as I can figure, credible evidence exists for the prosecution of some of the lesser players. We have a lot of suspicion for more, but insufficient proof," Mike said.

  "Four more films hit the internet. Recognition is complicated. Certain men in the films are masked, so we’re looking at other identifiers," Julian said. "It kills me there’s a market for this depravity."

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sunday, July 23rd

  Martin awoke to a jab at his side, the wail of a monitor alarm, and Tuck's calming voice. Light filtering into the room cleared his momentary confusion as Elizabeth began to stir and moan. She flailed more, using the space Martin vacated.

  "Sunshine, it's me, Marty."

  Pete stopped her hand from ripping out her IVs as Miles Gerba ran in, alerted by the telemetry. He restrained Elizabeth's free leg before it got tangled with her femoral line. "She's going to hurt herself. Martin, take her hands. Beth." When she didn't respond, he turned to Martin. "I don't want to do this, but I'm going to order Ativan and soft restraints until she settles down."

  Martin was surprised at her strength. "No, let me try something. Pete, hold her wrists. Tuck, Miles, take a leg," he said as he shimmied behind her. Elizabeth shrieked. "Shh, Sunshine." Taking her wrists and avoiding her head butts, he enveloped her with his body and started to sing.

  Nothing to worry your head about today,

  You are always safe in my embrace.

  As I gaze into your beautiful face,

  My heart fills with my love for you.

  We have a lifetime of things to do,

  But all you need is to rest without dismay.

  * * *

  Martin continued, and with each stanza, Elizabeth decreased her struggle. Her head soon rested against his chest. "Shh, I’m here." He ran his hands up and down her arms. Pete, Tuck, and Miles released one limb at a time.

  "Vitals?" Miles’s eyes locked on hers as he pressed the head of his stethoscope over her heart and neck. Pete cycled and reset the monitors. Everything appeared stable.

  Tuck washed his hands and gowned to access the arterial line. "I'll send the 08:00 bloods a little early." He turned back to his patient. "Well, hello, darlin'." Tuck waved his hand in front of the two open violet eyes with no response. "Miles?"

  Miles pulled out his penlight. When the light hit her face, Martin grabbed her hand before she connected with Miles's cheek. "Not nice, Beth,” Miles cautioned. She swung again when the light caught her second eye. Martin stopped her.

  "Hey, behave yourself." Martin used a teasing voice, "Didn't anyone tell you not to hit people?"

  "Mar...ty," a raspy whisper vibrated against him.

  "Beth?" She didn't respond to Pete.

  "Elizabeth? Talk to us," Martin asked.

  "Where's my momma?"

  "I’m Miles. Your momma isn't here. Elizabeth, where are you?

  She looked around. "Mary Greeley Hospital." Elizabeth seemed unaware she was resting against Martin. As soon as she touched her flat belly, her screams ripped through the entire ICU. "WHERE'S MY BABY?"

  This time, there was only one thing that could calm her. Pete flooded her body with a sedative.

  Martin was devastated. Pete, Tuck, Miles and the neurosurgery fellow tried to explain that this was not unexpected behavior when waking from a coma. "I can't bear her living through it again. Her mother's death, our baby's loss, the betrayal. Me."

  "This may be temporary. I would suggest, until we assess where she’s at when she wakes, you stay clear of her room.”

  Martin walked away before anyone could stop him.

  Off-balance, Martin headed outside to inhale the morning air. A text vibrated advising that Paul Young was heading into the hospital. Martin intercepted the cancer-stricken police officer. "Young?"

  "They told you I was coming?" Martin's flat nod made him swallow hard. "How's Dr. Reed? And Austin...?" Paul wrung his hands. "I'm sorry."

  Cutting him no slack, Martin asked, "Is that all?"

  "Bailey, I want to help. I don't think Slater or Hahn is the bomber."

  "Why?"

  "They like suffering. Think about what they put Elizabeth through and those around her. A bomb is efficient and impersonal."

  Martin opened his hand toward the seat beside him. "I'm listening. What's your theory?"

  "First Slater: a gullible kid who got in over her head. She believed his promises. Slater leads you to Ullman. She's mental, with major crazy added on. No residue of explosives at either woman's home. Take the bomb—it came back as homemade C-4. Blasting cap, det cord, and shock tube. Ullman could make the explosive, but again, no suffering. A master shot triggered that bomb. I would put my money on a male, late forties, early fifties, military background."

  "Why are you turning on your crew?" Martin grimaced, arching his brow.

  "I'm dying—the cancer is all over. When I found out what Logan, Blake, and Riggs did, I didn't have the fight."

  "Why didn't you take time off?" Martin shook his head.

  "My work is my life. My folks are gone. I'm divorced. My kids are grown and live all over the country. I just need to last a few more months for a pension worth leaving them. I'm not making excuses. I made mistakes, but I’m a good detective."

  "Do you have someone in mind?" He had no energy to sound civil.

  "Think about it: the jail nurse, Saperstein. She OD'd. My guess, someone shot her up with pure heroin. No evidence in her autopsy she used—your people likely have the information. Trudy made one interesting call—she called Elizabeth Reed's office. Now, since Elizabeth is with you—a SEAL, big man in a security company and DHS—I’d think the lead detective would be happy with that tidbit."

  "No, huh?" Martin said.

  "No. Logan was more interested in the duration of the call."

  "He was worried she told Elizabeth something."

  Nodding, Young pulled a water bottle from his pocket and swallowed a pill. "I started to snoop around. Logan always hangs out with a tight group—he’s sleeping with a girl, Naomi Sanchez. She's a clerk in Horizon medical records."

  A light bulb went off in Martin's head.

  "Before Lamb was a cop, he worked corrections at the jail. Before Mathias took the job, he worked for Salem Security. They ran protection for Governor Reed. Mathias is also engaged to the Assistant Corrections Director Thibodaux Spooner's daughter. Ferguson is a pig, likes his girls barely legal. What did your lady step into?"

  Martin gazed out into the parking lot before sharing, "Elizabeth sent letters to the Department of Corrections about potential prisoner abuse. She also treated a drug mule who confirmed abuse and claimed she was raped by a corrections officer."

  "Girl got any real proof? People lie."

  "She was twelve weeks pregnant. She was in Silverton Jail for six months."

  Young huffed out a breath. "Was? Where is she?"

  "She lost the baby, but we have the DNA from the fetus. She's in a coma in intensive care.”

  "Well, you got me. What can I do for you? I might as well go out with a bang," Young said.

  "First, you're going to eat a decent meal." Martin acknowledged his personal security, "Food and bring him home. Stay with him."

  Martin stayed on the bench when Julian slid beside him. "I heard."

  "That was fast. You shouldn’t be here." Martin held his head between his hands.

  "Pete reached out. I’ll stay scarce. Mon frère, remember that day in Al-Nasiriyah?”

  Martin dropped his
head to his chest. "I told you I was checking out. You told me to think of something to live for. Then you stabbed that needle into my chest."

  "Your eyes glazed over, but your breathing eased. You thought about Elizabeth, didn't you?"

  Martin turned to his friend. "How'd you get so wise, old man?"

  Julian draped his arm across his shoulders. "Don't hide from her."

  Tucker Hanlon came rushing out of the front sliding glass doors. "Get your butt back upstairs. You flew out so fast, you missed me knocking that fellow on his ass. We don't play into delusions. We’ll talk her through this."

  Julian gave Martin a hug. “You’re not alone.”

  Monday, July 24th

  Pete rolled up the window shade. "I'm about to wake her. We’re trying to orient her to a normal clock." He stroked her arm. "Elizabeth, time to wake up. How about we set you up for some breakfast?"

  Groggy, she swatted Pete away.

  Tucker shook out a yellow gown. "Martin, wash your hands and put this on. Sit. She needs out of this bed." Pete guided the tubing, helping Tuck place her in Martin's arms.

  The way she was positioned, her ear rested on his heart. Martin placed his lips against her head. "We need to put some meat on your bones. You’ll blow away in the wind."

  Elizabeth snuggled up to him. "No, I won't, silly. You’re holding me. Mmm, you smell good."

  Martin's facial expression screamed confusion. "You do too, Sunshine."

  "Hi, darlin', I'm Tuck Hanlon. Do you remember Pete Walter?"

  Elizabeth smiled at both men. "Pete, how's Austin?"

  "He's doing very well. Honey, can we take a peek at you?" Pete asked.

  Elizabeth tilted her head. "What happened to your head?" She ran her finger across Martin's brow, confused as she glanced around. "What happened?"

  "Tell us what you remember, Sunshine."

  Elizabeth scrunched her face. "You wearing purple glasses in Tonette's room. And then..." She searched around with her hand. "Femoral line." She touched a bandage on her neck. "Pacer? Foley. What happened?" she repeated.