by Joya Fields
She reached for her cell phone with a shaky hand. Garrett. Get Help! her mind screamed. But her hands were too unsteady to press any numbers. And she hadn’t had reception earlier when she’d tried to use her cell. Her vision blurred and nausea rumbled through her stomach.
The drugs made it hard to concentrate. She pushed herself and managed to sit almost all the way up.
Dizzy, but able to keep the nausea at bay, she realized her prosthesis was gone.
Merrick.
It didn’t matter. She’d get there on one leg. She needed to get to the phone in the waiting room. But she had to act fast. No time to wait for the drug to wear off. If she could just get to the waiting room, get help.
With a slow twist—designed to ease her right leg to the floor—she slid to the edge of the examining table. But her shaking hands couldn’t get a good enough grip on the table.
The effort was too much for her arms. With one last-ditch effort, she reached for the I.V. pole. Her body started a slow slump to the floor, pulling the pole down with a clatter beside her.
****
“What was that?” Garrett shot a glance at Hal as they stood in the hall outside Merrick’s office.
“Sounded like metal.”
“Come on…come on.” Garrett’s stomach clenched with frustration and fear. “Somebody’s in there, and my gut tells me it’s Brooke.”
“I know.” Hal pounded on the door. “Open up! Police!”
He faced Garrett. “Gotta follow procedure. We don’t have a search warrant.”
“Screw the warrant! I’m shooting off the lock!” Garrett drew his gun and aimed it at the door handle.
“Shit. I really wish we had a search warrant.” Hal unholstered his own gun. The elevator dinged and the doors swished open. Police backup had arrived.
“Brooke, stand back. I’m shooting off the lock!” Garrett hollered through the door.
No response.
Garrett glanced at Hal Fisher. With a nod, Hal positioned himself next to Garrett.
Garrett fired once and blew the lock and knob off the door. A split second later, Hal kicked in the door, gun drawn.
Police!” Garrett yelled into the empty doctor’s waiting room. He crouched and scanned the room with his gun drawn.
“Garrett?” Brooke called through a closed door. Hal nodded at him and moved to cover the doorway. Uniformed officers hustled in behind them.
“Brooke, I’m coming in. Stand back.” He turned the knob, surprised to find it unlocked. He swung the door open with a kick, while Hal canvassed the room with his gun.
“Brooke!” He ran, knelt beside her on the floor, and lifted her wrist to feel for a pulse. He knew she was alive because she’d called for him. But her pale skin and rolled-back eyes scared him to the core. She looked groggy, like she did on the boat, only worse. The I.V. pole held a half empty bag.
She moaned and he tossed the pole to the side. His heart beat as loud as a herd of wild horses.
“Brooke.” Garrett stroked a strand of blonde hair off her face. Her lids flickered. Relief flooded through his body. “Did Merrick do this to you?” He spotted a bruise forming on her right cheek, and anger seared through his body.
“Huh?” Brooke’s eyes fluttered open.
“Hal, get a doctor.” Garrett didn’t bother to turn around.
“No,” Brooke tried to sit, flinched.
Garrett put an arm under her head. “You shouldn’t move, Brooke. Wait for the doctor.”
“No!” Her eyes gained focus and she pinned him with her gaze. “Gawwett…” she slurred her words. She worked her tongue in her mouth. “Merrick admitted to drugging Jeff.” She stopped and panted for air.
“Okay, we’ll figure it out. For now you need to—”
She slapped her hand on his shoulder. “We have to find the boy. Merrick kidnapped me from the Amigo. I know he killed Tessa and Rico, too. But we have to find the boy!”
Garrett frowned. “What boy?”
Her voice grew stronger, and she pushed herself to her elbows. “Garrett…I can’t walk. He has my leg.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Merrick has a boy, a Mexican boy I think.”
“What?” Garrett frowned.
“I’m fine. I ripped out the I.V. I think it was morphine. I just fell from the table. We need to get to the airport. Merrick’s going to kill the boy. Merrick’s been smuggling something—could be heroin—inside a prosthesis.”
Garrett helped move her to a seated position and treasured the way her body fit so well against his.
“Brooke, you shouldn’t move till a doctor takes a look at you,” Hal Fisher said.
Brooke shook her head. “Now. We have to leave now.” She stared at Garrett with determined bluish-gray eyes and his heart suddenly belonged to her. “Garrett, the boy speaks English and I think that’s a death sentence for him.”
“Hal, alert the airports. Get a team to each one. Have them look for Merrick, with a young Mexican boy in tow.”
“Got it. Daytona is the closest. I’ll go there. But it’s small and there aren’t as many flights as Orlando and Jacksonville,” Hal turned and barked orders to the uniformed officers.
“He’s moving drugs to…California,” Brooke said, wobbling in Garrett’s arms. He held her closer. “Juan…the little boy’s name is Juan. He’s going to be scared.”
“The police are on it, don’t worry.” Garrett frowned. Brooke’s body shook in his arms.
“I want to go…want to help Juan…”
“You can barely speak, you’re shaking. You need to see a doctor. You can see Juan when—”
His gaze fell on a disposable cell phone that leaned against the base of the examining table. He lowered to get a closer look, noticing that the back had been removed and the wires were attached to a duct tape-covered block.
“Shit. Go no cell! Go no cell!” he hollered to the other cops. Bending, he scooped up Brooke and pulled her into his arms and against his chest so hard her breath came out in a whoosh. “Get the bomb squad in here and get this hospital evacuated now!”
****
The crowd in the far end of the hospital parking lot thinned and the moon shone bright above them. Sweat trickled down Brooke’s spine.
Brooke shifted in the wheelchair. “It’s been almost two hours. I’m fine to stand on my own now.”
Garrett glanced at her and shut his phone. “Juan is fine. Merrick is in custody. There’s no reason to hurry.”
“I want to see with my own eyes that Juan’s okay. He needs to see a friendly face. I know you have a lot to deal with here, but I want to go.” She still couldn’t believe Merrick had planted a bomb in the examining room. The bomb squad had disabled it without incident, but the entire hospital had been evacuated. Just as scary was the fact that Merrick was likely behind the bombing attempt at the hospital the other day. That one had malfunctioned and never exploded, but it could have killed hundreds of innocent people if it had detonated.
She squeezed her eyes shut to erase the image and then opened them. “Let’s get out of here.”
“I know. I’ll take you to headquarters. Let me just—”
“You Garrett?” a uniformed officer asked.
Garrett nodded.
“Found it in the corner of the waiting room,” the young officer handed Garrett a bag.
“Thanks,” Garrett said, turning to face Brooke.
“My prosthesis?” she asked.
Garrett nodded.
“In one piece?” In spite of the heat, chills made her shudder. If Merrick had ruined her prosthesis, she’d lose her mobility for days at least.
Garrett lifted the bag. “Want me to check?”
“Uh uh. Just hand it to me.”
She opened the plastic bag, pulled out her prosthesis, and breathed a sigh of relief. After slipping it onto her residual leg, she smiled up at Garrett. “Now we go see Juan.”
He nodded.
Ten minutes later, Brooke caught sight of Juan standing against a beige wall, staring at h
is feet.
The police had Merrick’s hands cuffed behind his back, and he sat at a long, bare table. His features twisted in a dark snarl, and his eyes darted around the room, as if looking for an escape.
A female police officer sat in a nearby chair speaking in Spanish to Juan. Then his eyes shifted and stopped on Brooke.
Brooke smiled and waved at him. Relief at seeing him alive and well poured through her.
Juan smiled and waved back, and his expression became instantly more confident. He whispered something to the officer in the chair. The woman arched a brow, turned, and glanced across the room to the table where Merrick was being held. She shrugged, held out a hand to Juan, and crossed the room to Merrick.
Juan turned and threw Brooke a wink.
“What was that for? What’s the kid doing?” Garrett asked.
Brooke slid to his side and leaned against him. “I’m not sure.”
Juan lifted his leg—his heavy, drug-laden prosthesis—and kicked Merrick hard on the shin. Then he turned and scooted backward away from Merrick’s range.
Brooke grinned.
Merrick’s face turned red, and he tried to pull free of the shackles that confined him to the chair. The officer shook her head and placed a hand on Juan’s shoulders, then led him out of the room. Her lips twitched at the corners.
Juan searched for Brooke, and she raised her hand and gave him a “thumbs up” signal. He smiled, returning with his own “thumbs up.”
“You saved him,” Garrett whispered in her ear as the policewoman led Juan down a corridor.
She shook her head. Tears welled up as she watched Juan turn and wave one last time. “No we saved him.” She glanced at Garrett. “How’d you know to look for me in Merrick’s office?”
He held her waist and she leaned her hip against his. She gathered strength from his touch. “A hunch. I had to find a way to catch the girl I love.”
She blinked.
A dimpled dented his left cheek, and he smiled a crooked smile. He cupped her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “You…I mean you.”
Must be the drugs. Did he just say he loved her?
Two guards escorted Merrick out of the room. Garrett leaned his forehead against hers. He looked into her eyes, his voice deep and emotional. “Can you stay in town a little while longer?”
****
Early the next day, Sheriff Leffler ushered them into his office. With a sigh, he gestured for Brooke and Garrett to take seats in front of his desk.
Brooke braced herself, knowing they might not like what they heard.
“Once Merrick started talking, we couldn’t shut him up. It was like he was on stage, bragging about his ‘accomplishments.’ If you can call murders and explosions accomplishments.” Sheriff Leffler walked behind his desk and shuffled some papers before he sat.
Garrett sat close to Brooke in the small vinyl chairs and squeezed her hand. “What did you find out?”
“And what’s going to happen to Juan now?” Brooke asked. She hoped he’d get a chance for a new leg. He’d been through so much. He deserved a new prosthetic at the very least.
“Juan’s already been flown home to Mexico—his parents have been cleared of any involvement with the drugs. They’re young. Merrick convinced them he’d be doing them a favor by giving Juan a new prosthetic and introducing him to movie stars.”
Brooke shook her head and pictured the frightened boy. “Some help.”
Leffler stood and paced the small cluttered office. “Merrick won’t be bothering anybody for a long time.” He stopped, leaned against a metal file cabinet, and glanced outside of his office door window where a group of deputies stood.
He lifted a pack of gum from his shirt pocket, pulled a stick halfway out, and offered a piece to them.
They both declined.
“What aren’t you telling us?” Garrett asked.
With a sigh, Leffler pulled out a piece and unwrapped it before he folded it into his mouth.
He shuffled back to his desk, leaned both hands on it, and sighed. “Merrick confessed to killing Tessa.” At Garrett’s flinch, Leffler added, “Sorry, Garrett.”
Garrett crossed his arms as if to protect himself, then nodded. Brooke laid a hand on his leg.
“Thing is, he confessed to everything. Told us everything we needed. But…” He plopped into his chair, heaved a sigh.
Garrett sat bolt upright and clutched the armrests of his chair. “But what? Spit it out, damn it.”
What more could there be? They’d found drugs, Brooke gave them her testimony about her kidnapping, about the abuse she witnessed against Juan. How could there be a “but”?
Leffler leaned forward. “His lawyer is saying he’s not mentally competent to stand trial.”
“What?” Brooke shook her head. “He might be selfish, but he isn’t crazy. He did what he did to get what he wanted.”
“I know.” Leffler picked up a pen from the desk and tapped it on a notepad. “During his confession, he told us he killed Tessa because she overheard him talking with his drug supplier, making an order. She was in the car next to his, in the restaurant parking lot with the window down, taking a nap because she was nauseous—maybe morning sickness. When he realized she was in the car, he invited her to meet him that night. He told her he’d introduce her to a movie star. He told her the whole phone conversation was part of an act they had…that they were working on a screenplay. Only stipulation was that she couldn’t tell anyone. Nobody could know this actor was in town. Except Rico. She could invite him.”
“That’s how he got them to come to meet him?” Garrett frowned.
Leffler nodded. “He claims that Rico was in on it, that he didn’t want a baby.”
Garrett’s body stiffened.
“He could just be trying to deflect attention from himself, pass the blame.”
“And?” Garrett narrowed his eyes and stared ahead.
“Merrick says he drugged her, and then they dumped the box. She was still alive when she was thrown in the ocean.” Leffler spit out the words like they were poison, then added, “If it’s any comfort, the M.E. doesn’t think she ever regained consciousness…she didn’t suffer.”
Garrett cringed. “And then he killed Rico?”
Leffler nodded. “He admitted rigging the explosion on Linda and Jeff’s boat, to drugging Jeff, to stealing your vessel and stabbing Brooke with a needle to sedate her. He told us from start to finish how he made the bomb. Said he spoke with a firearms consultant who helped with one of the crime shows he had a small part in.”
“What does this have to do with not being able to stand trial?” Brooke asked.
Leffler knuckled his eyes and then blinked as if to ward away the story of Tessa’s murder.
“His confession was in character. First, he said he was a Jamaican musician and spoke with an accent. Then he changed his voice to that of an old man. He even had different mannerisms. He’s saying his characters killed people, not him.”
“The man I kept seeing everywhere.” Brooke whispered. She glanced at Garrett. “The tall dark-skinned guy I spotted at the docks, at the hospital.” She paused. “Oh my God, he was following us.”
Garrett’s eyes darted around the room as if looking for something to throw to get his anger out. She couldn’t blame him, she felt the same way.
Leffler continued. “In character, Merrick says he didn’t know the difference between right and wrong and that he had no control over his actions.”
Garrett groaned and smacked his fist on the armrest.
“And why did he smuggle drugs? Money?” Brooke hoped a different line of questioning would distract Garrett from his troubling thoughts.
“Best we can figure out is that he was offered parts in movies—Hollywood stuff—if he kept delivering the goods.”
Leffler crossed the room and offered his hand. “Listen…I wanted to let you know before it hit the papers. And to thank you both.”
Brooke stood, pumped his h
and, and then turned to Garrett.
Garrett sat in stunned silence for a moment longer. He huffed out a loud breath, then rose and shook Leffler’s hand.
“What will happen to Juan?” Brooke asked.
Leffler shrugged. “I don’t know.” He held up his index finger and hustled back to his desk, scribbled on a notepad, and then handed Brooke the paper. “The social worker who handled his case before he left. She might be able to tell you something.”
Minutes later, they stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the sheriff’s office and Garrett turned to Brooke. She shielded her eyes from the glare of the bright September sun and looked into his deep brown eyes. Eyes that could somehow always see her for who she was.
He guided her across the walkway to the shade of a palm tree and laid his hands on her shoulders. She inhaled his musky scent and leaned closer, wanting more.
“I almost forgot.” He dug into his front pocket. The sun glinted on the object he pulled out.
“My dad’s watch!” She smiled and held out her wrist when Garrett grasped the ends with both hands. Shivers ran across her skin when his fingers brushed the tender area below her palm and locked the clasp. “Where?”
“Wedged in a crack of the bed frame in the spare room.”
She had her dad’s watch back. Garrett had said he loved her. Happiness swelled inside of her.
“Now what?” he asked.
She pondered his question.
Garrett took a deep breath, glanced around, and then pulled her hands into his. “Out of vacation time?” His eyes clouded and she wanted to reach out, touch his cheek.
She nodded. She didn’t want to leave.
Baltimore was home. She had a job there. A job she had to admit she didn’t enjoy. She’d become so used to Garrett’s company—so comfortable with him…so…in love with him.
“Will you stay?” his voice hitched and jarred her heart into beating double time.
She needed him—no doubt about that. Suddenly, that didn’t matter, didn’t make her feel less independent.
Because he needed her, too. Needing someone didn’t have to be a weakness. What could be better than two people needing each other?
Tears stung the corners of her eyes. She didn’t try to stop them from falling down her cheeks. “I’d like to stay a while longer.”