by RJ Blain
“Yes, ma’am.”
Jake handed his to me, and I dialed Daniels’s number.
“What ar—”
“Jacob Henry is at Winston Henry’s house. Just showed up five minutes ago.”
“Jesus Christ.” Daniels hung up on me.
Offering Jake’s phone back to him, I turned my full attention back to Winston Henry. “Winston, I want you to get him warm and wrapped in a blanket. Make sure he stays warm, okay? Do not let anyone in your house unless they identify themselves as law enforcement. When they show you their badge, demand to see their full identification.”
“He seems right scared, ma’am.”
“Warm him, get him bundled up, keep talking to him. Don’t take him anywhere. Try to talk about something—anything—other than what happened to him. There will be people coming over to help, okay?”
“I trust you.”
“On my way,” I promised, already moving to grab my holster, which I slid into. I double-checked my gun.
“That a gun, ma’am?”
“FBI,” I gently reminded him. “If you own a gun, sir, make sure you have it put away. Don’t want any misunderstandings, okay?”
“Ma’am,” he replied, and judging from his tone, I thought he was consenting to my demand. “Anything else I should do?”
“Take care of Jacob.” Hanging up, I turned to Jake and said, “Call Daniels back and tell him to make sure there’s either a woman or the gentlest male agent possible. Do not send the current CARD team. Henry’s probably armed and is freaking out. Jacob showed up covered in blood. We’re going.”
“Roger.” Jake went to work while I finished gathering the rest of my things and checking my pockets.
The paramedics stared at me as though I had grown a second head.
“What’s the fastest way out of this death trap?” I demanded.
As one, they pointed behind them.
One of the police investigators, a man almost as large as Jake, stepped to me, his hands on his hips as he glared down at me. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To do my job,” I snarled back, showing him my badge. “My one and only priority is to that little boy, Officer. I’ll be back to answer your questions after I’ve dealt with him.” Pulling out my notepad, I ripped out a sheet, jotted down my contact information, and gave it to him.
“Shouldn’t you be going to the hospital?”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed in his face. “I’m needed in New York. Jake, move it!”
“Moving, moving,” my partner called back, coming to my side, my boots in hand.
“Leave those damned things. Let’s go.”
“If you follow the river, the gorge slope becomes easier to climb about a mile from here. There are cruisers up top. Someone can drive you to your car,” one of the paramedics said.
I took off at a jog, my attention so focused on getting back on the road and headed to New York I didn’t even notice the pain of running barefoot over stones or care I had to climb more damned rocks in order to reach the road.
All that mattered was getting to Jacob.
I was going to return the Corvette to Daniels covered in filth with damaged leather, but I was beyond caring. When Jake tried to get behind the wheel, I snarled a wordless threat at him, stole the keys, and took the driver’s seat. I put the portable light on his seat and called in our route to the police so they would be aware I was going to break just about every traffic law in the book.
The instant Jake had the magnetic light in place and flashing, I turned on the siren, tore out of the parking lot for the scenic overlook, and sped north and east.
“Please don’t crash,” my partner begged.
“I didn’t criticize your driving when you blitzed here. Don’t criticize mine.”
“I didn’t fall on a corpse.”
“Do yourself a favor and shut up, Jake.”
“Right.”
I understood his concern, but I had no time to think about anything other than getting to Winston Henry’s house in one piece. Advanced driving skills were a part of FBI training, and thanks to training for CARD, I was fresh on the maneuvers required to navigate roads at high speeds.
The Corvette handled a hell of a lot better than the cruisers we practiced on. By the time we arrived in Winston’s neighborhood, his street was blocked by a lot of parked cars and an ambulance. I slammed the brakes at the end of the line, killed the engine, and left Jake to deal with the car. I flashed my badge and slowed my pace long enough to get a nod from a nearby officer before heading to the house at a run. I had my hand lifted up to knock on the door when someone opened it.
The female officer looked me up and down. Before she could say a word, I had my badge out. “FBI. CARD,” I announced.
Relief smoothed her tense expression. “Kitchen’s that way. The boy’s giving us problems.”
“Problems?”
“He’s terrified of us, and his uncle can’t get him to cooperate.”
“Are the officers armed?”
“Of course.”
“Trauma,” I explained, double checked my weapon was concealed, and marched to the kitchen. Four cops, three of whom were women, were near the door while Jacob Henry hid near the refrigerator, clinging to his uncle.
I displayed my badge to the cops. “I’m from CARD. Everybody out.” No one argued with me, although Winston tensed. “Not you, Winston.”
“Thanks for comin’, ma’am.”
“My name’s Karma,” I said, stowing my badge and approaching as close as the table. Once there, I sank to the floor, making sure I was lower than Jacob’s height. Height was important for kids. While I wasn’t much taller than the boy, I wanted him looking down at me rather than up.
Sometimes, little things like that made all the difference.
“Thanks for calling. Why don’t you introduce me to your nephew?”
“Jacob, this nice lady has been lookin’ for ya. She’s Karma,” Winston said, shifting to the side to give me a better look at the boy.
I could see where Winston had tried to help Jacob get cleaned up, particularly his face, but he was still splattered with old, dried blood and a lot of mud. I clenched my teeth at my oversight; I should have told Winston to avoid cleaning away any potential evidence. Jacob’s clothes were so dirty and torn I couldn’t tell what he was wearing beneath the layer of filth covering him.
At first glance, the mud was the same color as the muck found in the Conemaugh Gap. I heard footsteps behind me and glanced over my shoulder in time to see Jake in the kitchen doorway. I held my hand up to halt him, and he stayed put.
Jacob stared at me with wide hazel eyes, but I wasn’t sure he really saw me.
“Hi, Jacob,” I said, careful to keep my voice calm and soothing. “How are you?”
“You’re dirty,” the boy whispered.
I glanced down at the sweats, which were far too large for me. Running a mile through swampy forest had done a number on them. My feet were caked in mud a match for the gunk covering Jacob. “I sure am. Looks like we’re both in need of a shower.” I pointed with my thumb at Jake. “He was rolling in the mud earlier, too. That’s Jake. If you ask him, he’ll show you his back.”
“I’m a Jake, too,” Jacob whispered, his attention turning to my partner.
Jake took that as his cue to step into the kitchen until I felt his legs press against my back. “It’s a good name, kid, although I can’t say my parents were nice enough to give me as cool of a first name as yours. You got Jacob. Nice. Don’t tell anyone, but I’m a James.”
Biting my lip so I wouldn’t snicker at my partner’s dislike for his real name, I watched Jacob watch Jake.
During our time together dealing with violent crimes, we had dealt with numerous situations involving kids. Sometimes, kids preferred me, finding my small size and gender comforting. Other times, Jake was preferred, as his build gave the illusion of security.
I couldn’t read Jacob. When he wasn’t g
awking up at Jake, he was staring at me. I smiled for the boy, giving my leg a pat. “It looks like you’ve had a pretty rotten day, Jacob. Want to talk about it?”
Jacob glanced up at his uncle, which I took as a promising sign. Winston was the known authority figure, and the boy respected that—and was aware enough of his surroundings to comprehend familial structure.
“Go on,” Winston said, giving the boy a pat on the shoulder. “She’s one of the good guys.”
I always took the patient approach with kids. It worked well with the fosters; giving a child the chance to decide for themselves always helped in the long run for me. By giving them a chance to handle things on their terms, I found it easier to develop a sense of trust with them rather than trying to force them to bend to my will.
With a little luck, Jacob would warm up to me or Jake before the adrenaline rush ended. Once it did, I’d be useless until I got some rest and a solid meal. Until Jacob was in medical hands and under guard, I couldn’t afford to break down.
Jacob didn’t leave me waiting long, and once he decided to move, the little boy was fast. Some kids took the slow and careful approach. Others hit like a truck. The force of his impact with my chest and stomach knocked me against Jake’s legs, and my partner steadied me with a hand to my shoulders while I made sense of the tangle of arms and legs on my lap.
I kept still and let Jacob sort himself out until he hid his face against my stomach. Once he settled, I rubbed his back. Instead of talking, he cried, and I didn’t say a word. I kept rubbing his back until the flood of tears ended, and when it did, Jacob slipped into an exhausted slumber. I checked his pulse, breathing a sigh of relief at the strong, steady beat.
“I’m going to take him to the ambulance, Mr. Henry,” I whispered.
Jacob’s uncle nodded. Once I had a good hold on the boy, Jake helped me to my feet. Understanding I had no intention of releasing the child until he was in the hands of the paramedics, Jake tailed me, hovering in case I needed help.
Winston followed us, wringing his hands together and shifting his weight from side to side in his nervous anxiety.
“Everything’s going to be just fine,” I assured the man, stepping to the back of the ambulance. The waiting pair of paramedics gingerly took Jacob out of my arms. “Go with him to the hospital. Until his parents arrive, you’re the closest kin.”
“Don’t got me his insurance,” Winston mumbled.
Considering the way the man stared at his feet, I had the feeling Winston didn’t have insurance himself. “You let his parents worry about that.” I took a deliberate step back from the ambulance to indicate I trusted the paramedics to do their jobs.
That first step was always the hardest. Maybe I wasn’t the most feminine of women, but whenever I saw a suffering kid, every instinct demanded I latch on and guard them to my dying breath.
The paramedics would handle the rest of the work. Maybe I hadn’t found him, but my work was done, and the relief was so intense I wanted to burst into tears.
At my encouraging gesture, Winston climbed into the back of the ambulance, as did a police officer and an FBI agent. Confident the pair could handle guarding Jacob as well as the evidence collection, I watched the vehicle pull away and navigate the maze of cruisers and other vehicles on the street, after which the shaking started in earnest.
I focused on slowing my breaths, but it didn’t help at all. I flexed my hands, aware one of the worst headaches in my life was about to slam me right between the eyes. Digging out my phone, I thumbed through my contacts and called Daniels.
“What’s the situation?” he demanded.
“Jacob’s on route to the hospital with his uncle. You’ll want to send his parents there. Do you want me to handle the questioning?”
“Your voice is shaking, Agent Johnson.”
“I ran a mile and averaged one twenty-five getting here, sir. You were right. Yellow really does make the car go faster.” My stomach churned, and I swallowed until the nausea faded enough I could speak without throwing up. “Where do you want us?”
“The hospital for a thorough examination. No excuses, Agent Johnson. Hand Agent Thomas your phone.” I sighed but obeyed, listening to my partner talk to our boss. Within two minutes, he hung up.
“Time to go to your favorite place in the world,” Jake said, patting his hand against the middle of my back. “Just be glad he’s letting me drive you to the ER in the Corvette. He could have insisted on an ambulance.”
I surrendered with a sigh. If I didn’t cooperate, Jake would toss me over his shoulder or find some other way to physically restrain me until I did exactly what he wanted. Like it or not, I’d be going to the hospital. Fighting it would only make the consequences of my adrenaline rush worse. “Let’s get this over with.”
“It’s a miracle.”
“Fuck you,” I hissed.
“Later.”
“You are such an asshole, Jake Thomas.”
“You’ll like it, I promise.”
I stormed off in the direction of the Corvette, cursing my partner every step of the way.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Since my sweats had come into contact with Jacob’s clothing, they were confiscated as potential evidence. The Corvette would likely be treated as evidence, too, since Jake had come in contact with me at the gorge, and we had both been in close proximity to the mauled corpses. At the rate I was going through clothing, I would be forced to buy an entire new wardrobe or run the risk of indecent exposure charges.
Daniels’s first act upon confirmation we had arrived at the hospital was to nullify our waivers. Jake snorted at the development, huffed a couple of times, and finally smirked when no one else was in the hospital room with us.
At least I wasn’t the only one going through an examination—or the indignation of losing clothes. Jake’s suit had been confiscated, too.
“I am so glad we decided to take an early morning drive this morning. Learn from this, Karma. When an opportunity presents itself, take it.” Jake stretched his legs out on the hospital bed. I had opted for sitting in the chair beside him, flat-out refusing to lie down on another hospital bed despite the nurse’s protests.
My partner had cooperated, probably to set a good example for me.
My understanding of my limitations kept me seated upright, alert enough despite my sleepiness and pounding adrenaline-withdrawal headache. If I stretched out, even for a moment, I wouldn’t want to get up again. The last thing I wanted to do was provide the hospital with any ammunition to keep me an instant longer than necessary.
“You don’t look happy, Karma. You should be happy.”
The quiet wouldn’t last; someone would eventually remember we were here, and the real grilling would begin. I’d be reamed for jumping in a river and washing away potential evidence. Daniels covering for us wouldn’t prevent it; it’d only spare us from either losing our jobs or some other official reprimand. I’d use my waiver to protect myself, although I should have had the presence of mind to remember my job.
Washing away evidence was a big no-no, and I deserved someone screaming down my neck over it. I had so many problems I wasn’t sure which one I wanted to address first.
I’d start with the one I would never forget. “I fell on a corpse, Jake.”
“I know.”
“And then I washed away the evidence.”
“I know.”
“The evidence, Jake. And I forgot to tell Winston not to wipe anything from Jacob. I lost us more evidence.”
“I know.”
“If Daniels doesn’t kill me, Malone will,” I whimpered.
“Daniels already said it wouldn’t be a problem, Karma. If you think you have it bad, one of the cops threw up on the corpse. Poor guy isn’t going to live that down for years. If Malone values his life, he will keep his mouth shut. If he’s wise, he’ll smile, nod, and let Daniels handle everything.” Jake huffed. Twice.
“Have you even met Malone?”
“No. Don’t want to, either.”
“I still lost evidence.”
“Karma, you fell onto a corpse face first. Considering I saw a cop puke on a corpse and witnessed four other men contaminate the river with their vomit, I think you were justified in your reaction. Fine, you lost some evidence. Frankly, that corpse had been there for at least two days, had been sitting in the bushes, and had probably been chewed on by animals. The chances of obtaining good evidence from the decomposition material transferred from him to you is pretty slim. I don’t envy the team put in charge of examining that crime scene.”
The man had a point.
We fell into silence, and while we waited, I checked my email on my phone, scanning through the messages, grimacing at the ones from my CARD team. While Andrew hadn’t tried speaking to me again, everyone had emailed me several times.
I forced myself to read their emails. Between the three of them, they had tried every angle, ranging from guilt trips to blatant begging. The guilting worked, but not for the reason they likely wanted.
If I had acted sooner, if I had done things differently, I might have made a difference in all the cases we had lost. If I had been bolder, stronger, and better at my job, things would have been different.
Then again, Jake wouldn’t have been called in, either, and I didn’t know what I thought about that possibility. No one else understood me like Jake did.
“Agent Johnson?” a man asked from the doorway of the room.
I lifted my hand, staring at my screen as I tried to decide if I wanted to reply to any of the emails.
“I think he wants you to look at him instead of your phone,” Jake said.
“I am in my unhappy place, Jake. Let me stay in my unhappy place for a few more moments.”
“You have it backwards again. You’re supposed to be in your happy place. People customarily retreat to a happy place in situations like this.”
I sighed, diverting my attention to the low-battery icon. “I need to hunt down a charger before the damned thing runs out of battery anyway. Daniels said I couldn’t let the phone run out of battery, Jake. I don’t even know where its charger is anymore.”