“Oh, I’m so sorry. Deputy Director Davies told me she was involved in what happened with Sam. I had no idea she was your daughter, only that they were put in the same room with the guard outside for security. He didn’t tell me her name.”
“Elizabeth. She’s our Elizabeth.” Rachel looked over Sam before her gaze rested on Elizabeth, a frown marring her beautiful face. “Turner? Sam is your husband? I thought his name was Jack.”
“Sam is my husband’s twin brother. Jack is flying in now. I sent the jet to pick him and the kids up, along with my sister-in-law and her family. I was in town on business. When I got the call about Sam, I came right away. I must have missed you earlier when they settled Elizabeth. How is she?”
Jenna turned toward the woman in the bed. The Judge sat next to her, holding her hand, rubbing his thumb in circles on the back. He didn’t look like the energetic, sometimes cantankerous man she’d met many times.
“Did Deputy Director Davies tell you what happened?” Rachel asked.
“Only that she must have found Sam in the street and tried to help him. I know how worried and upset you must be, but I have to say, I’m so grateful to your daughter for what she did. From what Deputy Director Davies told me, I think whoever did this intended to kill Sam.”
“Elizabeth was shot three times and stabbed in the thigh. You can see from her face, he also hit her and the bruises on her neck tell us he choked her. She suffered so much. She’s a kind and gentle person with the strength and will of both her brothers. She’s everything to the family and me, but especially to her father. They’re so much alike, she’s his little girl. Always has been. Men stand before him in his courtroom and shake when he thunders. Not Elizabeth. She gave as good as she ever got from him. Whenever they’d argue they’d stand toe-to-toe. He admired her for her strength of conviction. I’m hoping that strength will pull her through this.
“How is Sam? They said he was poisoned, shot too, but one of those vests protected him.”
“The doctors think he’ll make a full recovery. It’ll be slow and painful, but thanks to your daughter, he’s alive. Because he got medical attention so quickly, they were able to give him an antidote to whatever poison he was given.
“I was talking to him. He heard me. He squeezed my hand.” Tears filled Jenna’s eyes and clogged her throat. That small recognition had meant so much to her. She loved Jack, but she also had a special bond with Sam. Maybe because they were twins she figured she understood Sam as well as she understood Jack.
“I hope he’ll wake up soon and tell us what really happened. I want to know who did this to my daughter.”
Jenna understood. “I don’t blame you, Rachel. I won’t rest until I know the whole story, that your daughter and Sam are safe from whoever attacked them. I hope he’ll be able to tell us.
“Excuse me, please. I have to call Jack and tell him Sam heard me when I spoke to him.”
“Of course, dear. I’ll watch over him while you’re gone. Not to worry.”
Jenna held Rachel’s hand to let her know she appreciated it and offer comfort during this distressing time. “Thank you.”
Jenna left the room and headed for the pay phones in the waiting area. She couldn’t use her cell in the hospital and knew Jack was desperate for any word on Sam.
RACHEL SAT IN the chair next to Sam’s bed and put her hand over his. She stared at the man for a long time. She’d seen Jack several times. Sam had longer hair and a rough growth of beard. Must be part of his cover for working for the FBI. The cuts and bruises on his face added to his rough-and-tumble look. His appearance was that of a common street thug, not an FBI agent. When she thought of FBI agents, she pictured men in navy blue suits with black shiny shoes. She studied his face and decided he was a good man. His strong square jaw showed strength and confidence, even in sleep. A line creased his brow indicating he was too serious and often lowered his eyebrows when he was angry or intent. No laugh lines around his mouth. She thought it a shame he might not laugh often enough.
“What are you doing, Rachel? That man is responsible for what happened to Elizabeth.”
“Now, John. This man didn’t hurt Elizabeth. If he was in trouble, you can’t blame him for Elizabeth’s actions. She’s a strong woman, and you know as well as I do she’d have helped anyone who needed it. Remember the time she made her brothers take the grate off the sewer drain by the house, so they could lower her down to rescue the mother duck and her babies.”
Smiling slightly, remembering it fondly, he said, “She was six. When she came in smelling, well, like a sewer, I was furious. She could have been hurt. She was so proud of herself, insisted I drive her and all those ducks down to Stow Lake in Golden Gate Park. She wanted the ducks to have a good home. She had cuts on her knees and palms from crawling after the ducklings down the sewage tube. I must have put half a tube of antibacterial ointment on her cuts. She never complained, because I promised to take her to the lake if she’d let me clean her up before we left.”
“That’s right. Now look at your daughter and tell me if she’s the kind of woman who would leave a man lying in the street, no matter the danger to herself.”
“No. She wouldn’t.” He pressed her palm to his cheek. “We can’t lose her, sweetheart.” He glanced up, tears glistened in his worried eyes, and he whispered, “She’s my heart, as much as you and the boys are.”
“We won’t lose her. This young man is going to wake up and tell us the most amazing story about how our daughter saved his life. I’m proud of her. She’ll make it through this. You watch and see.” Rachel brushed the hair away from Sam’s forehead and kissed him lightly where she’d removed his hair and just above the cut over his eye. Sound asleep, she didn’t think he knew she was there.
Rachel went to her daughter and did the same thing, careful where she touched Elizabeth. Everywhere her eyes fell, Elizabeth was injured. Her left leg hung from a sling suspended above the bed, her thigh completely bandaged. A sheet covered the other leg and up to just under her breasts. She was dressed in a hospital gown that opened in the front with string ties. Rachel made sure her daughter was covered properly, though it didn’t really matter as her midsection was also bandaged. They had her propped on her side, so the pressure was taken off the gunshot wounds to her back. A tube stuck out of her ribs for drainage. Elizabeth had an IV stand on both sides of the bed with lines going into each arm. A couple of the bags were medication for pain and to keep her asleep. The constant whirl of the respirator and the beep of the heart monitor filled the room. The steady beat comforted Rachel. She touched her precious Elizabeth’s hand and closed her eyes, praying her daughter would be okay and wasn’t in any pain.
“He better wake up soon,” John grumbled crossly. “I don’t have the patience to wait and see. What if the guy who did this to her comes back to finish the job? Look at our girl, so small and still. She’s just so still.”
“Relax, dear. The hospital posted a guard at the door just in case. Elizabeth will be fine,” she assured him, needing the reminder herself.
They stayed by Elizabeth’s side, keeping watch every minute the nurses allowed. They tried to give her their strength and willed her to get better and come back to them.
PEOPLE WERE TALKING again. Sam didn’t recognize the voices, but tried to figure out who and what they were talking about. Nothing made sense. He tried to fight the darkness and break through the fog clouding his thoughts. Who was “just so still”?
Another flash of memory came to him. A woman trying to take his gun and knife. She was going to hurt him. He grabbed the gun and fired. He hit her in the arm before he’d collapsed back to the hard ground and hit his head. Oh, God. Is that the woman in the other bed? Why was she still? He’d only shot her in the arm. Hadn’t he? Who was she? He let out a frustrated mumble, the only sound he could manage, and a soft hand brushed his forehead and another hand rested on his shoulder.
“Shh. You’re all right, Agent Turner. You’re in the hospital.”
The woman’s voice. Not Jenna’s. The other one, talking to . . . Elizabeth?
“Rest.”
Rest. Yes, he’d rest, and then he’d figure out what the hell happened. The black swallowed him again.
Chapter Seven
* * *
Saturday, 9:36 A.M.
THE ALARM WENT off, but he didn’t want to get up yet. He should roll over and toss the damn thing against the wall. Anything to get it to shut the hell up. His head pounded, his mouth tasted like shit. Still groggy and out of it, he wanted to fall back into sleep, but the insistent alarm blared.
Opening his eyes, everything came back to him. Not home, the hospital. Nurses and a doctor crashed through the door, heading across the room. Barely able to keep his eyes open, he managed to turn his head and see the woman in the bed next to him. One of the machines hooked up to her sounded the alarm. Not a good sign.
A nurse stepped to the side and he got a good look at the woman’s face. In addition to the split lip, a bruise bloomed in vivid color on her cheek and jaw with some scratches that reminded him of road rash. Her leg was bandaged and held up in a sling. A flash of memory came to him again and the other night crashed down on him. He closed his eyes, trying to remember.
He was in the bar looking for his contact, Scott. He wasn’t one of the faces in the crowd. Before Sam made his way to the back corner and set himself up in a position to watch the door and his back, someone jabbed a needle in his arm, wrenched it behind his back and led him through the side door. Thrown on to the floor of a car, someone punched him again and again, trying to subdue his lame attempts to escape. They didn’t drive far, and Sam remembered his head swimming. Everything was fuzzy and seemed unreal and hazy. When the car came to a stop, he jumped out and tried to get away, but his legs were like rubber. The earlier beating made his ribs, side, and back ache. Someone chased after him. The sound of shots rang out. Two shots.
He turned and hit the ground hard on his back. And then what? Someone landed on top of him. Her. She rolled him under a car. How the hell did she manage that? A loud crash echoed as a car rammed into them. She’d tried to take his gun. Oh, God. She’d saved him, and he’d shot her. Someone dragged her from under the car. Her frightened scream echoed in his head. The overwhelming feeling of helplessness washed over him even now. He’d wanted to get up and save her, but his body refused to cooperate. He’d gotten lost in the haze, unable to help her or himself.
Opening his eyes, he stared at the woman in the bed beside him. The nurse mercifully turned off the alarm. The pounding in his head had been keeping rhythm with the incessant beep, and now it pounded out the thrashing beat of his heart.
Please let her be okay.
The nurse gazed over and saw him staring at them. “Doctor, Agent Turner is awake.”
The doctor turned to him, but never left the woman’s side. “Agent Turner, how are you feeling?”
“I feel like the fogs rolled in and it weighs a ton. There’s an elephant stomping on my brain and banging a drum in my ears,” he said irritably.
“Give it time and you’ll become more and more alert. We’ve counteracted the drug you were given. How does your back feel this morning? Are you in a lot of pain?”
“I don’t really know yet.” His voice came out thick and slurred. His tongue stuck to the roof of his dry mouth and his eyes began to droop when another alarm went off. “What’s the matter?”
“Elizabeth, if you can hear me, you’re in the hospital. You’re safe.” The doctor laid a hand to her forehead and applied pressure, probably to reassure her someone was with her. Her heart rate steadied and dropped.
“What’s wrong with her?” Sam couldn’t take it anymore. He had to know if she was going to be all right. She had to be. It was his fault she was here, and the guilt ate him up inside.
“I think she was either dreaming or in a panic. She’s been through a lot in the last day. We lost her once in surgery, and although we’re pumping her full of meds, I don’t know if it’s enough.”
“I shot her. I don’t know what happened, but I know I shot her.” He closed his eyes, tried to cut himself off from the pain and despair. She’d tried to save his life, and he’d tried to kill her.
“You grazed her arm. We stitched up the wound. It wasn’t serious. We’ll have a plastic surgeon fix it up in a few days, so she’ll barely see the scar.”
“If the wound wasn’t serious, why is she here? And what happened to her face and leg?” Upset and agitated, the possibilities of what happened to her after he’d blacked out stirred his emotions into a roil of fear and fury that someone hurt her and he didn’t protect her.
“Sam, calm down. You don’t want to get agitated. It will only hurt your back and head more. Your back will spasm.”
The pain finally became part of Sam’s conscious thinking.
“It’s really something to see you go pale, considering you’re already gray from the drugs. Relax. Stop moving around before you hurt yourself more.
“Deputy Director Davies wants to talk to you about what happened. You remember shooting her in the arm, but after that, my guess is the man who was after you punched her a few times in the face, kicked her in the ribs, and then . . .”
“What? And then what?” He tried to sit up, tried to see her better, but his back protested painfully, sending him flat against the pillows again.
“He shot her twice in the back and stabbed her in the leg.”
The doctor whispered to one of the nurses before going on, Sam reeling as he stared at Elizabeth. The doctor had called her Elizabeth. Such a pretty, old-fashioned name.
“Elizabeth and your bulletproof vest saved your life. You were shot at very close range. It’s a miracle you don’t have any broken ribs, though four are cracked. Elizabeth’s actions saved you and got you here so we could give you the antidote in time. Another half hour and you’d be dead.”
“Is she okay?”
“I don’t know. We’re taking things one hour at a time. She made it through the night with minimal problems. We’re keeping her heavily sedated. She’s breathing on her own and that’s a good sign. Although she’s had several of these anxiety episodes where her heart rate skyrockets, I believe it’s the trauma, or she’s in pain.”
“Can’t you give her something? Don’t leave her in pain. You can’t do that. Help her, damnit.”
The nurse inserted a syringe into his IV line.
“We’re doing everything we can for her. Rest, Sam. You need to regain your strength.”
Sam’s eyes rolled back and he gave in to the medication, numbing his body and mind, but he tried to hold on to hope for Elizabeth.
Chapter Eight
* * *
Sunday, 12:00 P.M.
“COME ON, BUSY Bee. Open your eyes for me,” Patrick pleaded. “Mom and Dad are so worried about you. They went home to get some rest. They’ll be back soon. You should see Dad, he’s in rare form. I’ve never seen him so subdued. Mom says he’s moping around the house when he isn’t here.
“I’ve been staying at your place. Everyone we know has sent flowers to your house. They can’t send them here to the hospital, because you’re in ICU, so your place looks like a garden exploded. You’d love it, Bee.”
He stroked his sister’s hair and spoke to her with a tenderness born of years of sharing a close relationship. “What’s with all the chick food in the fridge? I swear there wasn’t a steak or hamburger to be found. I ate that huge piece of salmon you had in the freezer. I had to throw out some of the vegetables in the bin, but you still have half a vegetable and fruit stand in there. It was kind of nice making an omelet this morning. You’ve got twelve dozen eggs. Maybe I’ll buy you some chickens and your own chicken coop for the roof. You can collect them each morning. I bet you’d love that.
“The Muffin Man is acting up more than usual. I think he misses you. I gave him some of the salmon I made last night, and he actually meowed at me without hissing.
“Daniel went to
the shop today to check on things. I’m sure everything is running smoothly, but he needed something to do. He’ll check the books and make sure the staff is keeping to your standards. I’m sure he’ll have a full, detailed report when he gets here. I have to say I was disappointed to find the cops had eaten all the treats you’d made. Kay asked Amy to come to the house on Friday morning to pack the cookies. A few of the officers took them to the children’s hospital. I bet the kids got a kick out of having the police visit.
“Speaking of cops. Sam, you can stop pretending to sleep. I know you’re awake. How’d Bee do last night? Any trouble?”
Sam wanted to ignore Patrick, but his sister was in the hospital because of him and he couldn’t lie there and ignore the worry in Patrick’s voice. Turning his head, he glanced at Patrick, the stress and worry written in the lines on his face. Dark circles marred his eyes, his hair was in disarray from running his hands through it in frustration.
“She set the bells and whistles off twice. Once around midnight and another time around five this morning.”
“Was she in pain?” Patrick stroked his sister’s arm, brushed his fingers over her pale cheek.
“God, I hope not.” Sam rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes, the muscles in his back protesting the movement in his arms and shoulders.
“You’re worried about her.” Patrick didn’t sound surprised.
Sam was grateful Patrick understood he wasn’t callous about Elizabeth’s condition. “When you guys aren’t here, I watch her. She doesn’t move, she doesn’t make a sound, and the longer she doesn’t, the shittier I feel.”
“Well, I guess that’s something. I know you didn’t mean for this to happen, but you do understand as soon as you’re well, I will deck you for getting my sister hurt.”
“Understood. If it was my sister, I’d do the same.”
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