by S W Vaughn
He couldn’t bring himself to leave a message. Whatever he said wasn’t likely to be coherent, anyway.
He ended the call, tucked the phone away, and took Teryn’s limp, cool hand in his. “Hang in there, sweetheart,” he rasped—knowing his words fell on ears that would never hear again, but needing to say them anyway. “We’re going to bring you home.”
Chapter 41
Ozzy had never driven so fast in his life.
Even as he pushed the van past 100, squealing around curves and taking turns practically on two wheels, he was working through the serious problems they still faced—like how the hell they were going to explain driving an ambulance to a hospital, with a girl who’d obviously been tortured. There’d be a whole lot of questions, and no answers that made sense.
He had exactly one idea, and Blade wasn’t going to like it. But unless they both wanted to end up back in prison, they didn’t have a choice.
He stopped a block away from the hospital and hurried outside, going around to the back. Blade glared at him when he opened the doors. “Why’d you stop here?”
“This is where she gets out,” he said.
“She needs to be at the hospital.”
“And we need to stay out of jail,” Ozzy told him. “Look, what’s going to happen if a couple of ex-cons drive up in an ambulance, with her like this?”
Blade paled instantly. “Jesus. And there’s always a bunch of cops at the hospital.”
“Yeah. So we leave her here, and call 911.” He was already reaching for the stretcher—and dazed as he was, Blade had started moving to help. “It’ll take them five minutes, tops. Then we stash the van in one of the parking garages and walk into the place. Say we’re there for Kat and Presley.”
“All right,” Blade said. “That should work.”
“It will.” He pulled the stretcher out until he could reach the legs, then lowered them so they could get it on the ground. “Five more minutes isn’t too long,” he said almost absently. “She’ll be okay. We made good time getting here.”
“Stone…”
“Probably less than five.”
“She’s gone, man.”
“Don’t say that.” He spoke sharper than he’d meant. Without looking at Blade, he took out a bandanna he’d found in the toolbox and started wiping the stretcher down, removing their prints. Just in case. “She’ll make it.”
“She won’t,” Blade said in a choked, insistent tone. “She didn’t. She was gone when we got there.”
Ozzy stopped. He knew that already—he’d known the instant he saw her at the cabin that she’d never open her eyes again. But he couldn’t face reality just yet. “Let’s move,” he said, heading back to the van. “I’ll drive. You call.”
Blade hesitated just for a moment, and then followed his lead.
While he made the call, Ozzy headed for the parking garage on the block just past the hospital. No one would look twice at an ambulance there, and they’d lock it up just to be sure. It didn’t take long to find an empty space on the first floor.
The wail of sirens already filled the air when they got out.
He waited until Blade came around to the driver’s side. “Maybe you should call Kat,” he said.
“Already tried. No answer.” With a grim expression, Blade headed for the exit. Ozzy matched his stride quickly. “She probably turned her phone off. Or she might’ve fallen asleep, or even gone home by now.”
Ozzy frowned. For some reason, not being able to reach Kat was worrying, even though there were plenty of legitimate possibilities for her not answering. But he couldn’t think about that right now. They’d have to try finding her once they were inside.
By unspoken agreement, they headed for the emergency room entrance. An ambulance was just pulling up to the bay when they walked in—the timing couldn’t be better. “I’ve got this,” Ozzy said in a low voice. “Just follow my lead.”
Blade nodded, his gaze riveted to the opening bay doors.
Ozzy headed casually for the check-in desk, keeping his expression neutral. Halfway there, he glanced over at the commotion as two paramedics rushed in bearing the bloody stretcher—and did a forced double-take. “Teryn?” He didn’t have to fake the horror painting his voice. “Oh, God,” he said, nudging Blade. “Is that her?”
For an instant he thought Blade wouldn’t react at all. Then the man shuddered and took a rapid step toward the bustling paramedics. “Teryn!” he shouted hoarsely. “What the hell…what happened? Hey, what happened to her!”
“Jesus, that is her.” Ozzy caught up with Blade, noting the reactions around them. Heads were turning in surprise, more than one face showing sympathy. Another paramedic was hurrying toward them with a look of cautious determination. “Sir? I’m sorry, but you have to stay back. Sir…”
With mounting concern, Ozzy realized that Blade might have started out acting, but he was losing control fast. Genuine panic registered on his face, in the tense lines of his body. And the paramedic was going to touch him.
That would not end well.
Ozzy lunged and grabbed the man in a full hold before the para reached him. Blade reacted instantly, jerking with wild strength against the grip and trying to strike with every limb. He actually managed to get an arm free—and before Ozzy could move, an elbow rammed into his side.
He took the blow with a grunt and held fast. “Easy, man,” he murmured. “We have to let them take care of her.”
“Let. Go.”
“I will. But you need to control yourself,” he said calmly. “Can you do that?”
Blade struggled harder for a moment, breathing in ragged gasps. At last, he went limp. “All right, man,” he said in hollow tones. “I’m cool. Please let go.”
He relaxed his grip slowly. “Sorry about that,” he said. “Better you hit me than a paramedic, though.”
Miserable understanding replaced the rage on Blade’s face. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“Come on. Let’s find out what’s going on.”
Ozzy led the way to the check-in desk. Blade’s outburst had gone a long way toward cementing their story, so now they just had to play out the rest. The woman at the desk watched them approach warily with one hand on the phone beside her. “Can I help you?” she said.
“I hope so, ma’am,” he said. “We were here for Presley, and…well, it looks like they just brought her sister in. We’d like to know what happened, if you can tell us.”
The woman’s expression melted into pure sympathy. “That poor girl with the heart condition—that’s her sister? Oh, no,” she said, picking up the phone and dialing rapidly. “What a terrible thing. I’m so—hello? Yes, we have an ID on that 911 victim.” She covered the phone and looked up. “Her name, sir?”
“Teryn.”
“Frasier,” Blade added roughly. “Teryn Frasier.”
She repeated the name into the phone. “It’s that poor Presley girl’s sister,” she said. Then, after a pause, “All right. Will do.”
“Ma’am?” Ozzy said when she hung the phone up. “Do you know what happened to Teryn?”
The woman shook her head sadly. “We had an anonymous 911 call not five minutes ago. She was just lying on a stretcher in a parking lot,” she said. “They brought her right in, but I’m not sure what her condition is.”
“Any way you can find out? She’s a good friend of ours—we work with her.”
“Well, normally we only release that information to family. But her sister…that’s all she has. The poor girl.” The woman stood slowly. “Let me see what I can do,” she said. “Please have a seat. This could take a while, but we’ll call you as soon as we can.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
They both shuffled into the waiting area. Of the handful of people already seated, some were looking at them with understanding and empathy, while others were deliberately looking elsewhere. Blade all but collapsed onto one of the hard chairs.
Ozzy remained standing. He still felt there was som
ething wrong here—outside of what Corvair had done to Teryn. When he found that bastard, he wouldn’t bother handing him over to Frank.
Not fifteen minutes passed before a familiar face emerged from the patient side of the hospital and headed for them, but it wasn’t the familiar face he wanted to see. The presence of Dr. Percy Sullivan, hospital administrator, ramped up his concern to outright suspicion. Why would the administrator be here at this time of night?
“Mr. Blade and Mr. … Stone, isn’t it?” Dr. Sullivan stopped a few feet away. “Could you come with me, please?”
“Why?” he rumbled.
The man looked startled. “I understand you’re here about Miss Frasier,” he said. “I thought we should speak in private.”
He glanced at Blade, who wore the same suspicion he felt. “Fine,” he said. “Not too private, though.”
“All right,” the doctor said slowly. “Follow me.”
Dr. Sullivan led them past the front desk, away from the busy patient areas and down a quiet hallway staggered with office doors. When he reached the last door and started to open it, Ozzy said, “This is private enough.”
“Really, Mr. Stone. It’s just my office—”
“We’ll talk here.”
The doctor sighed and turned to face them. “I’m sorry, but this is not good news,” he said. “You may want to sit down.”
“No, we’ll stand,” Blade said. “Just tell us.”
“Very well.” Dr. Sullivan looked acutely uncomfortable. “Miss Frasier—I’m referring to the elder—has suffered severe trauma over most of her body. The worst damage is to her head. Her brain has been punctured…”
“How?” Blade grated. “What happened to her?”
“I’m afraid I’m not sure, except for the head wound,” the doctor said. “She’s been shot. Miss Frasier retains minimal involuntary function, but…there’s simply no way to revive her. She’s brain dead.”
For the first time since seeing Teryn bloodied and broken at the cabin, Ozzy’s self-control wavered. Hearing the words out loud made reality impossible to ignore. His knees buckled, and he nearly collapsed. “Brain dead,” he repeated numbly. “But…she had a breathing tube in her mouth.”
“Yes. Apparently, that was inserted prior to the gunshot wound. It was not a life-saving procedure, since she couldn’t have survived the trauma. However…” Dr. Sullivan drew a shaking breath. “It was enough to maintain function of her major organs,” he said. “You see, Miss Frasier is a registered organ donor, and her heart is an ideal match for her sister.”
Realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. He dimly registered Blade’s startled gasp, and knew the man had come to the same conclusion. These bastards had told her they’d save her sister—and they’d followed through by ensuring that she’d die, but Presley would get her heart.
It was the most twisted, horrific gift imaginable.
“So you’re going to do the transplant,” Ozzy managed to say. “Is that right?”
“Yes. Miss Frasier signed the release form months ago.” The doctor stared at the ceiling, as if searching for the right words. “She would have wanted this.”
“She would’ve wanted to be shot in the head?” Blade snarled, taking a step toward Sullivan. “She would’ve wanted—what was it you said? Severe trauma over most of her body. She wanted that?”
“I didn’t mean that, of course,” the doctor stammered. “I meant her heart—”
“Let me tell you what I want, doctor.”
“Blade. Stand down.” Ozzy spoke bluntly, stunned by the man’s rapid shift from nearly unresponsive to killing fury. Either he’d missed something entirely, or Blade knew something he didn’t. In any case, now was not the time to cause problems. They couldn’t allow Teryn’s sacrifice to be in vain. “All right, Dr. Sullivan,” he said, sending a warning look at Blade. “Thank you for the information. Now, where’s Kat?”
The man blinked. “Miss Solange? I haven’t seen her since she came in with you—er, gentlemen to view the security tapes.”
“No. She’s here, or she was here for a long time,” Ozzy said. “She came to sit with Presley. Someone from the hospital called because of her convulsions, and said they needed her to watch the girl for twenty-four hours.”
“Convulsions?” Dr. Sullivan said with a frown. “Mr. Stone, Presley is stable and has been for quite some time. I assure you that no one from my hospital called Miss Solange.”
He felt like he’d been punched with a moving train.
“What do you mean, no one called?” Blade’s voice was dangerously low, dripping with threat. “We were there. We heard her talking to the hospital.”
“We have to go.” Ozzy put a hand on Blade’s shoulder. The man flinched, but he fell silent. “Please keep us updated on Presley,” he said to the doctor. “You can call the club. Leave a message if no one answers.”
Dr. Sullivan’s brow furrowed. “Is Miss Solange all right?” he said in a small, worried voice. “I thought—what I mean to say is…”
“I’m sure she’s fine.” He steered Blade back down the hall. After a few seconds, Blade shook him off and strode faster. “Goodnight, doctor,” Ozzy said as he went after him.
Neither of them spoke until they got outside the hospital and past the security cameras. There, Blade stopped and pivoted to face him, his features struggling for control. “You know where she is,” he said. “Don’t you?”
“Not where. Who.” He stared off into the distance. “It was him. Colonel Fischer. She would’ve known Corvair’s voice, so he must’ve called to flush her out.” Finally, he looked at Blade. “They know we’re onto them,” he said. “They wanted us to find Teryn…and they took Kat for leverage to use against us.”
“Leverage for what?” Blade said. “What do they want?”
Ozzy’s jaw clenched. “Everything.”
Chapter 42
“That son of a bitch is in on it,” Roman said as they crossed toward the parking garage. “I don’t know how, but he is.”
Stone frowned. “Who?”
“Dr. Sullivan.” He was still fighting the urge to go back in there and rip the doctor’s spine out through his mouth. “It’s the only way this transplant could happen,” he said. “Presley was way down on the donor list. That’s why Teryn was so upset about the whole thing—that bastard just didn’t care. But now he’s suddenly giving her the first available heart, even though it should be going to someone else.”
“Goddamn it,” Stone said darkly. “So why aren’t we making him tell us where Kat is right now?”
“Because he doesn’t know. He was too surprised about the phone call—and whatever they told him, he thought she wouldn’t be involved.”
“Yeah, I guess.” They reached the parking garage, and Stone picked up the pace, pulling the keys from his pocket as he went. “Listen, we have to talk about Fischer,” he said. “I know him, how he thinks. And if he’s got Kat…”
“We’re getting her back. Period.” Roman stepped up beside him and nodded at the van’s rear doors. “Can you unlock those? I need to check something.”
He did. “What are you looking for?”
“Something I should’ve checked in the first place.” He climbed in and headed for the stacks behind the driver and passenger seats, peering into the vents. When he checked the passenger side, he spotted it right away.
“Fuck!” Without thinking, he drove a fist into the stack hard enough to dent the metal. He barely noticed the split knuckle that resulted, or the blood that ran down his fingers and seeped into his palm. “There’s a camera in there,” he snarled. “Why the fuck didn’t I look before? I should’ve checked everything.”
Stone looked like he’d say something. Before he could, the prepaid phone started ringing. Roman yanked it from his pocket and glanced at the screen. “It’s Kat,” he said, thumbing the green answer button. “Hey, where the hell are you? We’re worried sick.”
“You’re not nearly worried enou
gh, Mr. Blade.”
Okay. That smug male voice definitely wasn’t Kat. “Who the fuck is this?” he demanded.
“Oh, I think you know.”
Roman glanced at Stone, and saw absolute rage on the man’s features even before he said, “Colonel Fischer.”
“Put the call on speaker. I want Captain Stone to hear this, too.”
“Fine,” he snapped, moving toward the back doors. He held the phone out and hit the speaker button. “We’re listening.”
“Good. It’s been too long, Captain.”
“Drop the formalities, Fischer,” Stone said with a growl. “What do you want?”
The phone was silent for a moment. “First, I want to thank you for delivering my package,” Fischer said. “I was impressed with your performance. How clever of you, realizing that you couldn’t risk direct involvement.”
“None of that was for your benefit.”
“And yet you gave me exactly what I wanted.”
Roman had already heard enough. “Where’s Kat, you sadistic son of a bitch?”
“Your lady friend—if I may use that term loosely—is here with me. But I’m sure you knew that, too.”
“If you touch her—”
“Are you threatening me, Mr. Blade?”
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, I’m absolutely threatening you. I will end you.”
“All right.” Stone gave him a look that clearly said he should shut up. That definitely wasn’t his preference, but he figured the man knew enough about this Fischer to understand exactly how much shit they were in here. So he’d shut up…for now. “Let’s get on with it,” Stone said to the phone. “What do you want?”
“It’s simple, really,” the colonel said. “I have an operation to run, and I need reassurance that it won’t be interrupted again. So I’ll want that vehicle back, along with any…souvenirs you might have considered keeping.” He paused, and added, “Oh, yes. And I want to hear everything you know. Everyone you’ve told. Every step you’ve taken, every action you’ve performed, every word you breathed since my men first approached the subject.”