by Laura Scott
“Pupils are dilated, possible narcotics on board,” Dr. Ramsey said as he slipped his penlight back into his breast pocket. He returned to the foot of the gurney. “Get an IV started, and give him 0.2 milligrams of Narcan. Hopefully that will bring him around.”
Dana couldn’t tear her gaze away. Noelle expertly placed an IV and then administered the medication.
No response.
Dana’s stomach clenched with fear, and she felt Mike and Noah coming up to stand on either side of her. But she couldn’t look away, or speak. Her entire being was focused on the man lying inert on the hospital gurney.
“Give a 500 cc fluid bolus,” Dr. Ramsey said. “Then let’s try another 0.2 of Narcan.”
Still no response.
“One more time,” Dr. Ramsey directed. “Another fluid bolus followed by a third dose of Narcan. If that doesn’t work, we’ll go to 0.2 of flumazenil.”
Dana held her breath, watching and waiting for a reaction. She hoped the Narcan worked, because flumazenil could cause seizures, among other side effects. But the third dose of Narcan was the charm. Mitch’s legs jerked reflexively and she let her pent-up breath out in a sigh of relief.
“He’s going to be fine,” she said, finally glancing over at Mike. “He’s starting to come around.”
“What kind of narcotic did they use in that dart gun?” Mike asked. “I’ve heard there are drugs strong enough to drop an elephant.”
“That’s true.” She swallowed hard. “We won’t know for sure until Mitch’s blood tests come back and the results are matched up with whatever is in the dart Mitch has is tested. But the fact that it was difficult to bring Mitch around makes me suspect they used a new narcotic called carfentanil. It’s an incredibly dangerous medication, ten thousand times more potent than morphine. With the heroin crisis in the city, it appears people are looking for something stronger. We’re starting to see overdoses related to the street use of carfentanil, and many of them have died.”
“Street use, huh?” Mike’s gaze narrowed. “If that’s what he’s using in those darts, we need to get the guy with the tranq gun off the street, permanently.”
She silently agreed, but for right now, all she cared about was that Mitch was okay. Pulling out the dart must have helped dilute the medication, because anyone taking carfentanil for the first time had a high likelihood of dying from respiratory failure.
Had that been the goal? To take Mitch out? What about the theory that the dart gun was to take them out long enough to stage a murder-suicide?
She didn’t know what to think anymore. Her chest tightened and she felt dizzy as she realized just how close she’d come to losing Mitch.
Forever.
* * *
The bright lights overhead made him wince in agony. Where was he? What had happened to him?
And most important, where was Dana?
He struggled to lift his right arm, but it felt as if it weighed a hundred pounds. His movements were clumsy, and in his attempt to shield his eyes from the glare, he smacked himself in the head.
“Don’t do that.”
The strange female voice wasn’t at all reassuring. He sensed there were several people around him. Had he been captured by the guy with the dart gun? Was Dana captured, too?
Lord, help me! Keep Dana safe!
A sense of calm washed over him and he held himself still, gathering his strength and waiting for a chance to make his move. He flexed his wrists, noting he wasn’t tied down, so that was good. Voices surrounded him, but he couldn’t understand exactly what they were saying, so he blocked them out, concentrating instead on taking slow, deep breaths.
He wasn’t going to just lie here while Dana might be in trouble. Hands moved over him. Maybe the guys were searching for a hidden weapon?
He wished he’d purchased ammunition for the Glock.
The touching stopped and he took one last deep breath and levered himself upright. Beeping alarms went crazy and hands grabbed at him, but he desperately fought them off, determined to get away.
“Mitch, what are you doing? Stop it, you’re going to hurt yourself! Mitch, please! Stop!”
Dana? He pried his eyes open. Now that the light wasn’t directly above him, it was easier to see. His vision was blurry, but Dana’s frightened expression shot straight to his heart.
“Are you okay?” He blinked, struggled to focus. “You’re not hurt?”
“No, but you are. Please stop fighting us. You’re in the hospital.” Her small hands pressed gently yet firmly against his chest. “The doctor is trying to flush the drugs out of your system.”
The hospital? Suddenly it all made sense. The people, the lights, the beeping.
They hadn’t been captured by the bad guys.
He remembered going to Simon’s apartment complex and being hit with the dart gun. How long had he been out of it?
He remained sitting upright on the edge of the cot or bed or whatever he was on. Lying down felt too vulnerable. Not to mention the overhead lights shining in his eyes gave him a headache.
“Hey, bro, you’re scaring the staff.” Mike’s deep voice was reassuring. “The sooner you rest up, the sooner we’re out of here.”
He knew Mike was right. The bad guys could easily find them there—after all, they had before. “Water,” he said in a hoarse voice. His mouth and throat felt as if he’d swallowed a bottle of sand.
“Here.” Dana held a cup with a straw to his lips. He felt ridiculous, but drank anyway.
“I think we can safely move him to a bed in the arena,” a deep voice said. “He’ll be fine.”
“Thanks, but we really need to get out of here,” Mitch said. His vision began to clear, which was good. Now if he could get his strength and coordination back, they’d be even better.
“Not until you get a dose of antibiotics.” The male voice belonged to a man in his late thirties, wearing green scrubs. He had a name tag on that read Dr. Ramsey, MD. “The sutures in your neck look red and inflamed. Could be infected.”
Mitch wanted to argue, but the stubbornness in Dana’s gaze made him sigh. How long could it take to get a dose of antibiotics? “Okay, but make it quick.”
“Any allergies I need to know about?” the doc asked.
“Not that I know of.”
“Good.” The doctor rattled off the name of some medication he’d never heard of, and one of the nurses went over to what looked like a giant ATM machine to get what she needed. Within minutes, the antibiotic was dripping in through his IV.
“How long have I been here?” he asked, looking at Dana then his brother.
“Almost ninety minutes,” Mike answered. “Don’t worry, we’ll be on the road shortly.”
Not soon enough, but he didn’t say anything more. Ignoring the sense of urgency wasn’t easy. He kept glancing at the tiny bag hooked to his IV, wondering if they’d slowed it down on purpose to keep him here longer.
He felt okay, not 100 percent, but good enough to move under his own power. To prove it, he slid off the edge of the gurney, standing up on his own two feet.
“Easy,” Dana said, putting a hand on his arm. “You might still have some of that narcotic in your system.”
“Narcotic?” He scowled, not liking the sound of that.
“I’ll fill you in on the details later,” Mike said. “How much longer?” His brother looked at Dana.
“Ten minutes, maybe less.”
“Okay. Noah and I will get the car and bring it back to the ambulance bay. We’ll meet you there shortly.”
Mitch was all in favor of that plan. He gestured to the IV. “Can’t you speed this thing up a bit?”
“No.” Dana glared at him. “Be glad I’m not making you stay longer for observation.”
“We have his lab results back,” Dr. Ramsey said. “His white count is up a bit
, so you’ll need antibiotics for the road. Also the tox screen confirms he was injected with carfentanil.” Ramsey’s expression was grim. “A highly powerful narcotic that we’ve been seeing on the streets lately. You’re lucky to be alive.”
Dana made a soft sound of distress and moved closer to him. He hugged her close, knowing that the fault rested squarely on his shoulders.
He should have waited for Mike and Noah to arrive. Or better yet, let his brother do the investigating for him. There was no really good reason for him to insist on seeing the crime scene for himself.
However, he was the one being framed, a personal attack of the worst kind. One he still didn’t understand.
“The rest of his labs are fairly normal,” Dr. Ramsey continued. “My advice is to rest, continue with antibiotics and drink lots of fluids.”
“Would you be willing to give us a few days’ worth of antibiotics to hold us over until we can fill a prescription?” Dana asked, her voice tentative. “I know I’m asking for a lot of favors here, but it’s important we get out of here as soon as possible.”
“Dana, are you in trouble?” Dr. Ramsey asked with a frown. “I think it’s best if we call the police.”
“No!” Mitch’s knee-jerk response came out sharper than he intended. At the dark suspicion in Ramsey’s eyes, he hastily backtracked. “What I meant to say was that my brother-in-law, Noah Sinclair, is a MPD cop. And my other brother Miles is a homicide detective.” That was true, even if Miles wasn’t actually involved in the situation. “We have the help of the authorities already.”
“Dana, may I speak to you in private?” Dr. Ramsey obviously wasn’t convinced.
He was surprised when Dana didn’t move. “He’s right,” she said. “Noah is a cop and so are two of Mitch’s brothers. We’re fine, really. If you can’t provide the extra doses of antibiotics, I understand, just give us the prescription.”
Dr. Ramsey stood there as if weighing his options when his pager began to shrill. He unclipped it from his belt, read the message on the small screen and grimaced. “Trauma alert, GSW to the head.” He replaced the pager and gestured to one of the nurses. “Go ahead and give them enough oral antibiotics to hold them over for a few days. Then get set up for the incoming gunshot wound.”
Mitch let out his breath in a relieved sigh along with a tiny splash of guilt. The doc was right that Dana should go to the police for protection. Something to think about. He glanced up at the mini IV bag; it was nearly empty.
“Thanks, Noelle,” Dana said, accepting a small white bag a nurse handed to her. “I appreciate everything you’ve done.”
“Hope everything will be all right,” the nurse said, throwing a suspicious look at Mitch. “If you need help, give me a call.”
“I will, thanks.” Dana’s smile was strained and Mitch felt lower and slimier than a worm. “Will you disconnect his antibiotic now and remove the IV?”
Noelle nodded and went to work. Two minutes later, he was free to go. Dana wrapped her arm around his waist, as if she was afraid he’d keel over. She led the way down the corridor and then to the right, where there was a spacious area, wide enough for three ambulances to be parked side by side.
The only vehicle in there was Mike’s rented SUV. He slid into the back seat next to Dana.
Mike pulled away, glancing at Mitch over his shoulder. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”
“I’m fine.” Or he would be. He felt sick to his stomach, probably from all the meds he’d been given. “Where are we headed?”
Mike and Noah looked at each other. “Back to The Sandpiper Motel for now,” Noah said. “You’re clearly in danger, Mitch. It’s best if you stay out of sight from here on.”
“You’ve got it wrong,” Mitch argued. “That dart wasn’t intended for me.”
“What do you mean?” Mike asked sharply.
He reached over and took Dana’s hand in his. “I jumped in front of Dana. Both attempts with the dart gun were aimed at her. She’s the one in danger, maybe even more so than me.”
A heavy silence filled the interior of the car. Mitch knew that it was true, but he still didn’t understand the motive.
Were they trying to silence Dana simply because she’d helped him? Or because they were worried she knew something about what was really going on, details about the Shelton family business?
Either way, this latest attempt solidified the truth. One way or another, Kent’s family was definitely involved.
THIRTEEN
A chill rippled down Dana’s spine as Mitch’s words echoed over and over in her mind.
Was it possible she’d been the target? She tried to think back to their dash across the field. Everything had happened so fast, but now that she replayed those few seconds, she realized Mitch was right.
He had jumped in front of her, the dart hitting him high in the shoulder. The dose of carfentanil had been strong enough to knock Mitch out, might even have been strong enough to kill him.
It certainly would have done worse to someone lighter and smaller.
Like her.
But why? Because she’d helped Mitch escape the hospital that night? It seemed crazy that someone would try to kill her for that. Why not just aim to hit Mitch in the first place?
“Are you sure there’s nothing you remember about Kent’s family?” Mitch asked.
She shrugged helplessly. “I’ve told you what I know. Kent’s mother’s maiden name is Shelton and Kent’s family works in real estate. I have no idea why anyone would want to hurt me because of that information. It’s public record.”
“True.” Mitch’s expression was grim.
“Okay, here’s the plan,” Mike said, interrupting them. “We’re going to drop you both off at the motel, then we’ll head back to see if we can find the vehicle you use for official business.”
“We need a car,” Mitch protested. “Otherwise we’re sitting ducks if someone finds us.”
Noah grimaced, then nodded. “He’s right. Let’s go back and pick up my ride.”
“If we’re going back, we may as well pick up Hawk’s car,” Mitch argued. “Better to keep far away from anything linked to the Callahan name.”
“Isn’t Hawk’s car compromised already?” Dana glanced between the men. “Wouldn’t tranq gun guy have spotted it?”
“I muddied up the license plate,” Mitch pointed out. “One black SUV looks much like another.”
“I’ll use Hawk’s SUV,” Mike said. “You can use this rental. I didn’t use my own name, so it should be safe enough for a while.”
The offer helped Dana feel better. Who knew how difficult it would be to go on the run from people who had access to personal information? If it wasn’t for Mitch’s family, they’d have been caught a long time ago.
The near miss outside Simon’s apartment building made her shiver. The way Mitch had put his life on the line in order to protect her was humbling. How could anyone believe a man as honorable as Mitch would kill Janice and Simon?
Even as the thought entered her head, she understood that a man’s reputation and character wouldn’t mean squat when compared to the overwhelming physical evidence stacked against him.
“The gun!” She glanced at Mitch in horror. “We left it in Hawk’s SUV.”
“What gun?” Noah and Mike asked simultaneously.
She winced, remembering that Mitch hadn’t mentioned finding the weapon in his closet at home.
“The murder weapon,” Mitch said in a resigned tone. “We found it in my closet the night I sneaked into my place to get my notes.”
“It was put in a shoe box with the cover lifted up in one corner,” Dana added. “We didn’t want to leave it behind in case we didn’t get back to the motel.”
“Great,” Mike muttered. “That’s just great. Any other evidence we need to know about?”
“No.” Mitch sounded exhausted, as if beaten down by the events of the day. “They have my fingerprints and blood at the warehouse, the scene of Janice’s murder was at a place where we used to hang out and the murder weapon was found in the closet of my bedroom.”
“Hopefully it’s still in the SUV,” Noah said. “If not...”
There was nothing but silence as Mike drove back toward the Gas ’N Go station. Mike didn’t go straight to their vehicles, but swung past, checking the area for cops or other police authorities.
The area was oddly quiet, as if nothing had transpired a few hours earlier. No cops, no people hanging around in clusters, talking.
Nothing.
She didn’t like it. Granted, the tranq gun wasn’t loud like a regular rifle, but surely someone had seen Mitch go down and Mike driving like a maniac across the field to pick them up.
“Something’s wrong,” she said. “It’s as if nothing happened here.”
“Yeah,” Noah agreed. “It’s eerie.”
“Could be that the cops came, didn’t find anything and left,” Mitch pointed out.
“Maybe.” Mike didn’t sound convinced. “Mitch, give Noah your keys. I’ll let him out here so he can double back on foot to get Hawk’s SUV.”
Mitch dug in his pocket, then handed over the keys to Noah. “Thanks, man. I know you’re putting your career on the line for me.”
“Hey, I’m part of the Callahan family now, and we stick together no matter what.”
Dana felt a strange sense of envy for the closeness the Callahans shared. Even with Noah, who wasn’t a brother by blood, but was accepted as such anyway.
“The shoe box is tucked beneath the passenger seat,” she said. “If it’s still there at all.”
“Okay, I’ll check.” The moment Mike pulled over to the curb, Noah pushed open his passenger door and hopped out. “See you at The Sandpiper.”
“Be safe,” Mike said. “Maddy will be upset with me if something happens to you.”