by Tripp Ellis
Archer’s chest heaved for breath. She gasped, ”I need to do more cardio at the gym."
It was good to see she still had a sense of humor, but Archer was losing blood, and getting weaker by the moment.
We floated up and down with the swells. As we crested the tip of a wave, I saw a small island maybe half a mile away. "Come on. We're almost there."
We continued our trek through the inky water. At 500 yards out, I saw Archer slip under the surface.
I dove under and pulled her up.
She coughed out a lungful of water, and I clung onto her and pulled her the rest of the way as she faded in and out of consciousness.
I dragged Archer to shore and rolled her onto her back.
“Archer! Archer!”
She peeled open her eyes and gazed at me.
Relieved she was still responsive, I said, “The tough part is over. We’re going to get you help.”
She nodded and reached a delicate hand to my face. A thin smile tugged at her lips, and in a weak, breathless voice she said, “You saved me.”
I hadn’t saved her yet. We were a long way from home, and she had lost a lot of blood.
Archer caught her breath in the wet sand as the surf nipped at her ankles. She stared up at the stars. “I guess this is as good a place as any to die.”
My face tensed, and I grew a lump in my throat. “You’re not dying. That’s a direct order.”
“Aye-aye, sir.” She gave a mock salute.
I climbed to my feet, my eyes surveying the island. Starfish Key was a small, desolate island with no permanent structures. In the day, you’d often find visitors anchored in the bay who’d taken a dinghy to the beach to enjoy the seclusion. Sometimes people would camp overnight, though it was prohibited.
I hoped to find some rule-breakers.
I moved to the tree line, and weaved through the tall grass and underbrush. There were mangrove trees, palms, a few cypress trees, and a host of other flora and fauna. In the distance I saw the faint flickering of firelight.
A spark of hope fluttered in my belly.
I raced back to the beach, scooped Archer in my arms, and hurried back into the underbrush. We crossed the small island in a few minutes. On the opposite shore, campers had built a fire.
We emerged from the foliage to see a man and woman roasting marshmallows, a dome tent pitched beside them on the beach.
My eyes quickly found their inflatable dinghy on shore. I saw a sailboat anchored in the bay, and breathed a sigh of relief.
Our presence startled them. They weren’t expecting anyone to emerge from the forest—especially looking like we did.
The T-shirt around archers leg was now soaked with crimson blood. Her normally olive skin tone was now pale. She looked like the undead.
The woman was smoking a joint and gasped when she saw us. She was in her early 20s and had blonde curly hair that had been highlighted by the sun. She wore a pink bikini top and shorts.
The guy had dark hair and a narrow face and brown eyes. The girl was way out of his league. He wore a T-shirt and board shorts. It took his glassy eyes a moment to process what was happening.
“Call for help!” I shouted.
The guy dug into his pocket for a cell phone. “I can’t get a signal.”
“Shit,” I grumbled to myself.
“Is that your boat?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he nodded.
“Got a radio?”
He nodded again.
“Where are we?" I asked, As I moved toward the dinghy.
“Starfish Island."
“What happened?” the woman asked.
“Shark attack,” I said.
The guy pushed the dinghy into the surf, and we climbed aboard. his girlfriend hopped in beside him, and he cranked up the electric motor.
"What's your name?" I asked as he spun us around and angled toward his sailboat. “I’m Garrett, and this is Becky."
The engine hummed as it drove us against the surf. Archer winced and groaned with pain as we crested the oncoming waves, the dinghy slapping back down against the surface, hard.
I held Archer’s hand and told her everything was going to be okay, even though I was doubtful.
34
"Mayday, mayday, mayday!” Garrett shouted into the handset of the radio.
"Where's your first-aid?" I asked, frantic.
Garrett pointed at a storage compartment in the cabin. I pulled open the hatch and grabbed the supplies, then moved to Archer who lay on the lounge. I dug through the contents of the kit, looking for disinfectant and gauze.
"Mayday, mayday, mayday," Garrett repeated. "This is the Zephyr. We are just north of Starfish Key Island. There's been a shark attack. We need emergency medical assistance immediately!”
“Zephyr, this is Coast Guard Patrol 217. We are 3 miles north of your current position. We are in route now."
I took off the makeshift bandages. Now that I had proper supplies, I could secure the wound tightly and apply pressure to stem the bleeding.
Archer had puncture wounds in her calf in a c-shape. They oozed blood, and flaps of flesh and muscle hung free. I could see the white bone underneath.
Archer screamed as I poured disinfectant over the wound, then wrapped gauze around her leg.
When the Coast Guard arrived, we transferred Archer to their patrol boat. I thanked Garrett and Becky as I boarded the medium-size response boat.
The engines roared, and the captain brought the boat on plane and we raced across the water to Coconut Key. Once I identified Archer as FBI, the Coast Guard contacted the Feds and the Sheriff’s Department. An ambulance waited for us at the marina, and we were at Coconut Key General Hospital within a few minutes.
The EMTs pulled Archer out of the ambulance and wheeled her into the ER on a yellow gurney. A triage nurse assessed her wounds and took vital signs. Her heart rate, blood pressure, and oxygen saturation were all dangerously low. They gave her IV fluids, and once her vitals were stabilized, Archer was immediately taken to the OR.
“Do you think they’ll be able to save her leg?” I asked the triage nurse.
“You’ll have to speak with the doctor,” she said with a grim look on her face.
Even if she had an opinion, she wasn’t about to tell me. It wasn’t her place. And she could probably lose her job if she said anything.
I took a seat in the waiting room amid sniffling children, people with broken bones, and old folks with oxygen tanks. It was freezing in the hospital, and my clothes were still damp. I felt like I was going to catch Ebola, or at least the flu, just sitting there.
A couple of kids sat at a children’s table playing with blocks and puzzles. The pale green walls were depressing. TV news filtered through a flat screen mounted to the wall. Some talking head was blathering on.
I hoped to God that Archer came out of this okay. Though, I’m sure she wasn’t going to be happy about the way her leg looked in heels anymore—if she still had the leg.
35
Agents Miller and Hamilton stormed into the ER. They didn’t see me at first, and made a beeline to the information desk. I overheard the receptionist inform them that Agent Archer was in surgery.
As I approached, Miller’s disdainful eyes fell on me. “What happened?”
I told him everything, and Miller still looked at me like it was my fault. He clearly still had feelings for Archer. Not only was I the guy that took her away from him, I had damn near gotten her killed.
“The Coast Guard is looking for Vladimir, and I’ve got a tactical response team ready to go,” I said.
“We’ll handle this. I’ve contacted the Joint Interagency Task Force. We’ll get that son-of-a-bitch.” Miller handed me his card. “You call me the minute she’s out of surgery.”
“Will do.”
“You should have called for backup at the first sign of trouble.” His face flushed, and the veins around his temples bulged.
I said nothing.
Ha
milton put a hand on Miller’s shoulder, trying to diffuse his partner’s anger. “Come on. Let’s roll.”
Miller glared at me for another moment, then the two stormed out of the ER.
I took a seat again and waited.
An hour later, the surgeon emerged, wearing sky-blue scrubs and a surgical mask pulled down around his neck. He had blue booties over his shoes, and a blue hair cover. “Mr. Wild?”
I stood up and rushed to greet him and nervously asked, “How did it go?”
“She’s fine. She’s resting in stable condition in a recovery area. You’ll be able to see her shortly.”
“Were you able to save the leg?”
“She had pretty extensive damage, but I was able to re-vascularize the leg. She’ll need extensive physical therapy, but she should make a full recovery. She may have a little numbness and weakness in that leg which should resolve within 6 to 8 weeks, but it could take up to a year. The nurse will give you discharge instructions, along with prescriptions for pain medication, post surgical nausea, an anti-inflammatory, and a short course of antibiotics. I recommend she follow up in 14 days to remove the stitches.”
“Great. Thank you.”
He shook my hand and strolled back through the double doors into the patient area. After a few minutes, the nurse escorted me back to the recovery room.
IV fluids and antibiotics dripped into Archer’s arm. Her heartbeat pulsed across a monitor which displayed blood pressure and oxygen saturation. All of her numbers were far better than when she was first admitted. Her groggy eyes found me as I took a seat beside her bed.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, as I took her hand.
“Like a fucking shark bit me,” she slurred. “How do you think I feel?”
I chuckled. “Doc says your going to be okay.”
“I’m certainly not going to be okay. My miniskirt days are over.”
“I’m sure you will look just fine in a miniskirt.”
“I think it’s going to be long pants for me from here on out.” Her eyes brimmed. “But, at least I still have it.”
I agreed.
A nurse stroked the bottom of her foot, checking her sensation. “Can you wiggle your toes for me?”
Archer winced as she tried to move them, but the little piggies weren’t keen on going to market. They moved about a millimeter, which was better than not moving at all.
“That’s good,” the nurse said.
It would be a long time before Archer was duty ready again, if ever. And by the look on her face, that realization was sinking in.
“From what I know of you, you’ll bounce back from this,” I said.
“I appreciate the confidence.”
“In the meantime, you can binge a bunch of Netflix shows. Catch up on your reading.”
“Do you know when they’re discharging me?”
“I don’t. I would imagine they’d want to keep you overnight, but with the way insurance is these days, they might kick you out this afternoon.”
“I might need a little assistance around the house. Think you might be up for it?”
“Sure,” I said in a comforting tone. “Whatever you need.”
“Whatever? That’s pretty open-ended. There’s a lot of stuff that needs to be done around the house.”
“I’ll see what I can do about getting those windows replaced. You might want to consider staying somewhere else until the house is secure.”
“What about Vladimir?”
“Miller’s working on that now. With any luck, they’ll have him in custody soon. Don’t worry about him. He’s going down. No question about it.”
36
They released Archer the next day. A nurse pushed her out of the hospital in a wheelchair, and I helped her into a cab and took her home. I had a pocket full of discharge instructions, a pair of crutches, and a handful of prescriptions that I had filled at the pharmacy attached to the hospital.
I got Archer situated in bed, brought her a glass of water and some pudding, dosed her up on her pain meds, and let her sleep.
I let agent Miller know that Jen was safe and resting at home. He said they had located Vladimir, and were planning to take him down. He didn’t want my assistance. I asked him to inform me when they had Vladimir in custody. A few hours later, I saw on the 10 o'clock news that the FBI in a coordinated effort with the Coast Guard had arrested Vladimir.
The footage on the news showed Vladimir being escorted in handcuffs into the county jail.
The news cut to an interview with Vladimir's attorney. "My client is innocent of the charges. He has done no wrong. And I look forward to clearing my client's name. He is an upstanding member of the community, a benefactor in several local charities, and has no criminal record."
I was thrilled to see the scumbag arrested, and mildly perturbed that Miller hadn't informed me.
I called Sheriff Daniels. "What do you know?"
"I know that he's in Federal custody," Daniels said. "Beyond that, they aren’t sharing much information. When he kidnapped a federal agent, this became a federal matter. I asked that they keep me in the loop. But I'm not keeping my fingers crossed." He sighed. "How is your FBI friend doing?"
"She's okay. It's going to be a long recovery."
"You think Vladimir killed Kingston?"
"I can all but prove it."
"Well, it looks like he's going to go down for a long time. So, we might not get him on Kingston, but it's not like he's going to walk away." I appreciate the work you guys did."
"Sure thing." I asked him to keep me updated, then I called JD to see how things were going with Scarlett.
JD was still in Miami. "I think I'm going to stay here for a few days just to keep an eye on things. I want to be close by in case something happens."
"Like what?"
"Like that little devil escaping. I'm sure if there is a way out of that facility, Scarlett will find it."
I caught JD up to speed on everything that had happened.
"I go out of town for 24 hours and all hell breaks loose."
I chuckled.
"I'm sorry about your girlfriend."
"She's not my girlfriend."
"You have serious commitment issues."
"You're one to talk,” I said. "How's Belinda?"
JD let out a depressed side. "She went back to Mississippi, or wherever she was from."
"I'm sure you'll find a replacement in no time."
"Damn skippy."
"Send Scarlett my best," I said.
"Will do."
I hung up, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and sat on the couch, watching the rest of the news. I ended up crashing there so I wouldn't disturb Archer as she slept.
I woke up in the morning to the smell of bacon and coffee. My face twisted with confusion.
I wiped the sleep from my eyes to see Archer crutching around in the kitchen, fixing breakfast. I pulled myself off the couch. "What are you doing?"
"I owe you a breakfast. It's the least I can do. After all, you did save my life."
I frowned at her. "Get back in bed. I'll make breakfast. You don't need to be up. You need to keep that foot elevated and let the swelling go down."
"I am not going to start acting like an invalid."
“At least give yourself a chance to heal. Plus, you’re on some pretty heavy duty pain meds."
"It's just breakfast. It's not heavy machinery."
"Just try to take it easy."
"Yes, Daddy," she said in a girly voice.
I took over breakfast and made her get back into bed. I pampered her for the rest of the day.
Not long after breakfast, an insurance adjuster stopped by to look at the front door, the windows, and the damage to the siding from the car explosion. He didn’t say much, and noted everything in a laptop computer. Said the insurance company would be in touch.
JD gave me the number of a guy who was great with replacement windows. He came out the next day and gave an estimate. The h
ouse was older, and the windows weren’t very energy efficient. Archer would have to wait to see what the insurance settlement would be before making a decision on doing the whole house.
The next few days were up and down. Jen was progressing well, but dealing with bouts of depression over the injury. Covered up by bandages, she had no idea what her leg looked like, and she was envisioning the worst.
It was about a week later when the really bad news came.
37
“You have got to be shitting me,” Archer shouted into the phone.
Rage boiled on her astonished face. She was talking to her boss, Special Agent Dalton.
"That is total bullshit!” Archer griped.
I mouthed the word, “What?”
My curiosity had been piqued. But I knew this wasn't good news.
"I know. I know,” Archer replied into the phone, trying to calm herself down. She took a deep breath. "Okay. Thanks for letting me know."
She hung up.
Her eyes filled with exasperation. "You are not going to believe this."
"I'm listening."
"The judge tossed the case."
"What?"
"Miller raided Vladimir's boat before the judge had signed off on the search warrant."
I grumbled.
"That's not the worst of it. The Office of Professional Responsibility has been investigating him for months. It turns out there are 14 complaints against Miller. Falsifying evidence. Compelling perjury. Taking bribes. The list goes on. There is evidence he tipped off several traffickers about law enforcement efforts. I think he may have been our inside leak. The judge said, ‘Mr. Miller’s conduct taints this investigation to a level that brings into question the credibility of the entire agency and everyone involved.’”
Anger welled within me, but I remained calm.
“I knew there was a reason I never liked that guy,” Archer grumbled.
I knew exactly what I had to do. In that moment, I began formulating a plan. I had watched Vladimir kill an innocent girl, and I wasn't going to let him get away with it. He had caused Archer irreparable harm. My whole policy of letting the system take care of things went out the window. It wasn't that I believed the system was broken, but there were way too many cracks and holes.