In Harm's Way (Heroes of Quantico Series, Book 3)

by Irene Hannon

  "I think we have something'

  Yanking his BlackBerry off his belt, Mark punched in Steve's number and relayed the news as the police officer and dog plunged down an indistinct path through the woods.

  Please, God, let this be it! Nick's pulse began to pound as he followed close on the team's heels.

  They'd gone no more than a hundred feet when Rico stopped, sat, and perked up his ears.

  Nick had done enough work with K-9 units to recognize the dog's posture as a passive alert. He'd found something. But it couldn't be Rachel. There was no building of any kind in sight.

  The officer bent down and carefully moved aside the dead and decaying leaves with a stick. Nick joined him, watching as his probing uncovered a pair of thin, supple leather gloves. He recognized them at once.

  Rachel's.

  He recalled teasing her about them the day he'd gone to tea, pointing out their limited practicality in cold weather. She'd laughed, responding that her bulky thermal pair weren't quite appropriate for the chic hotel where she played. And that a woman had to sacrifice warmth for style on occasion.

  His spirits soared. They were on the right path!

  "Look how these were left. I don't think they were dropped by mistake:" Mark crouched to examine them.

  Nick took a closer look. He was right. The gloves had been folded together into a small ball and tucked off to one side of the path, under some leaves.

  Rachel had left them a clue.

  Despite her fear, despite possible injuries, she'd been trying to send searchers a signal.

  Amazing.

  "Good for her," Mark said softly, echoing Nick's thoughts. "I'll get the local EMTs in here" He pulled out his BlackBerry as he stood.

  Once the officer rewarded the dog with a treat, he urged Rico to move ahead. The dog didn't need much encouragement. As if sensing that the object of his search was nearby, the animal surged forward.

  Two minutes later, when the small group emerged in a clearing, Nick took cursory note of the small pond off to one side as the dog headed straight for a decrepit outbuilding constructed of cement blocks.

  But as he swung his flashlight across the facade, what he noticed most was the shiny new padlock.

  "Pay dirt," Mark declared, pulling out his BlackBerry again.

  Hammer in hand, Nick sprinted across the uneven ground, his heart pounding. Please, God, let her be alive!

  While the officer rewarded his canine partner with another treat, Nick went to work on the padlock. It took several blows, but at last the shackle disengaged.

  As he unhooked the latch and prepared to enter, Nick knew that as long as he lived he'd never face a moment this terrifying again.

  Because what he found on the other side of the door would affect the rest of his life.

  For better or for worse.

  The beam of Nick's flashlight found her at once. She was curled into a fetal position just inside the door, her back to him.

  Lying still as death.

  His heart lurched, and he tried to swallow past the rancid taste of fear as he stepped over Rachel and knelt beside her. He took a quick inventory, noting the shredded stockings, the abrasions on her feet, the soiled blouse that would never be pristine white again. Her hair had fallen across her face, and he gently lifted it aside. The bloodied bump on her temple quickened his pulse. As did the iciness of her pale skin as his fingers brushed over it.

  Worst of all, he saw no indication that she was breathing.

  Steeling himself, he leaned forward to press his fingers against the carotid artery in her neck. He thought he detected a very shallow pulse. But he wasn't sure.

  "Come on, Rachel, stay with us." The plea came out in a ragged whisper as he stroked her cheek.

  A commotion at the door caught his attention, and he looked up. Two EMTs stepped over the threshold, followed by Mark and a couple of other agents, who wedged themselves into the corners of the small building and used their flashlights to provide some illumination for the emergency technicians.

  "The helicopter's five minutes away," Mark told him. "We're setting up flares in the field to guide it in. There's plenty of room to land. How is she?"

  "I don't know." Nick choked out the words and moved aside as the EMTs took over.

  The silence in the small space was heavy as the two technicians checked Rachel's vitals, then exchanged a look.

  "What?" Nick asked, tensing.

  "Pulse and respiration are very slow." As the technician spoke, the EMTs spread a thermal pad on the ground. "Lift her slow and easy," he warned his partner. "On three. One. Two. Three."

  In one smooth motion, they transferred Rachel to the pad, still curled in the fetal position.

  The whump-whump-whump of rotor blades registered in Nick's consciousness. The sound grew rapidly louder as one of the EMTs placed a light blanket over Rachel.

  "Didn't you guys bring anything warmer than that?" Nick snapped.

  "We're trying to avoid afterdrop"

  "What's that?"

  "A further decrease in core temperature. If we rewarm the periphery, the vessels in the arms and legs will dilate and send cold blood to the core, causing a further decrease in temperature. You can kill people that way. It's important to rewarm the core first"

  Nick swallowed. Hard. If he'd been in charge, he'd already have made a deadly mistake. "How do you do that?"

  "With specialized equipment like IV warmers and warm, humidified oxygen. The medevac team will be equipped to measure her core temperature"

  As he waited for the paramedics on the helicopter to arrive, Nick moved closer to Rachel. She was curled on her right side, and he reached for her left hand-only to discover that it was clenched around the cross she still wore around her neck. He couldn't pry her white fingers loose, so he closed his own hand around hers. And continued to pray.

  Sixty seconds later, the medevac team arrived and took over, led by a man Nick estimated to be in his late forties. He had the tanned, weathered face of a sailor, and his light brown hair-cut in a short, military style-was liberally salted. As the two local EMTs moved aside, he stepped over Rachel, noting Nick's grip on her hand before he nudged him aside.

  "You look like FBI:"

  "Special Agent Nick Bradley"

  "Kevin Callahan. You have a personal interest in this case?"

  "Yes" At this point, Nick saw no reason to hide his feelings for Rachel. Besides, he wasn't about to budge from her side.

  "Okay. You can stick close. Just stay out of my way."

  "You must be the Coast Guard hypothermia expert"

  The man was already checking Rachel's pupils, but his lips twitched into the glimmer of a smile. "I guess we'll find out how expert I am:" He examined her exposed skin as he spoke to the two paramedics who'd accompanied him. "We've got some cyanosis. Let's get a tympanic sensor on her. See if you can find a vein that isn't collapsed and start an IV. Normal saline:"

  The small space fell silent except for the rustle of movement as the paramedics worked. Kevin eased Rachel onto her back and carefully worked open the buttons on her blouse. He pushed the fabric aside, revealing the delicate lace edging of her camisoleand angry bruises on her neck.

  Nick sucked in a sharp breath. He'd seen marks like that before. On strangulation victims.

  "Someone was trying very hard to make sure this woman didn't live to see tomorrow," Kevin remarked as he began to hook her up to the cardiac monitor, attaching sticky pads to her chest.

  "IV is in;' one of the paramedics said.

  "Tympanic temperature is thirty-one point six;' the other technician reported.

  Nick did the math for the conversion to Fahrenheit. About eighty-nine degrees. His gut knotted. She was way too cold.

  "Someone tell the pilot to shut down" The directive came from Kevin.

  "Aren't you transporting her?" Every muscle in Nick's body stiffened. He could think of only one reason why there'd be no urgent need to get Rachel to a hospital. And he wouldn't even
consider that possibility.

  "Yes. But I don't want her exposed to rotor wash with the outdoor temperature this low"

  "I'll take care of it;' Mark offered, disappearing out the door.

  "Let's get the stretcher in here," Kevin said.

  One of the paramedics rose to retrieve it, and thirty seconds later he passed it through the door of the shed.

  "Okay, let's move her very gently," Kevin said. "We don't want to jar her and send any cold blood from the arms and legs into the central circulatory system:"

  "What about the vibration from the helicopter?" Nick asked.

  "We'll cushion the stretcher as best we can. Cover her head too," Kevin directed the technicians as they cocooned Rachel in blankets.

  While they eased Rachel through the door, Nick tossed Mark his keys. "Take my car, okay? I'm going on the helicopter:"

  "No problem." He restrained Nick with a hand on his arm and aimed his flashlight at one of the hinges. "She made a valiant effort. I found this on the floor." He opened his hand. A small, sharp stone rested in his palm.

  As Nick looked from the blood-stained rock to the gouged wood beside the hinge, his vision blurred. Working in the cold and dark, by feel alone, Rachel had managed to dig one of the hinges almost out of the wood before she succumbed to hypothermia.

  Wiping the back of his hand across his eyes, he stepped out the door, into the dark. "Call Rebecca, okay?" He choked out the hoarse request.

  "I'll take care of it. And I'll meet you at the hospital:"

  With a wave of acknowledgement, Nick sprinted across the field, the flares around the perimeter giving off an eerie glow in the dense blackness of the night. The rotors were already turning when he reached the helicopter. He ducked through the wash and climbed aboard.

  "I figured you'd want to ride along," Kevin said, sliding the door shut behind him.

  Taking a seat near Rachel, he touched her pale cheek. It was still ice cold. "Is she .." He stopped. Cleared his throat. Tried again. "Is she going to be okay?"

  "The first half hour after the rescue is critical:" Kevin scooted onto the bench seat beside Rachel as the helicopter lifted off. "But we're doing all the right things. Hypothermia protocols are much better than they used to be"

  "Are you saying the prognosis is good?"

  Kevin checked the cardiac monitor before he replied. "I've seen people in worse condition survive"

  The paramedic's cautious response did nothing to quell Nick's anxiety.

  And as the helicopter churned through the dark air, the fierce turbulence it left in its wake was like a gentle breeze compared to the roiling in his gut.

  The noisy ride to the Level 1 trauma center in St. Louis was the longest of Nick's life. And once there Rachel was whisked away, leaving him alone in the waiting room.

  During the next forty-five minutes, he visited the intake desk five times. But no one told him anything. He wasn't family.

  The only thing they'd done for him was offer an ice pack.

  Shifting on the cushioned seat of a wood-framed chair, he tipped his head back against the wall and wedged the compress against his eye. This whole setup reminded him of the vigil he'd held with Mark the prior summer.

  They were not good memories.

  But Emily had survived. And Rachel would too.

  She had to.

  "Nick!"

  He jerked upright. Rebecca burst through the door, Mark on her heels. He was on his feet instantly.

  "How is she?" Rebecca asked.

  "I don't know. They won't tell me anything. You have to be family to get any information" He cast a dark scowl at the middle-aged nurse seated behind the counter. She ignored him.

  "You saved her life. That ought to count for something." Rebecca marched over to the desk. "I'm Rachel Sutton's sister. I'd like an update on her condition."

  The nurse peered over her glasses at Rebecca, then at Nick, who had moved behind her. "I'll get one of the doctors:"

  She rose and disappeared through an inner door.

  "Not exactly Miss Warmth;' Mark noted, joining them.

  "You'd think they'd have someone with a little more empathy in the ER," Rebecca said, irritation nipping at her voice.

  "Where's Colin?" The ice pack was numbing his fingers, and Nick shifted it to his other hand.

  "One of the agents dropped him and Megan off at the hotel. I bummed a ride with Mark:" She rubbed her eyes, calling his attention to the smudges underneath. She was dead on her feet. "How was she when you arrived, Nick?"

  "No change that I could see"

  A door to one side of the desk opened, and a woman of about fifty wearing a white coat stepped through. "Are you the family of Rachel Sutton?"

  "Yes, Rebecca answered for all of them.

  "I'm Dr. Kent:" She shook hands with each of them. "Let's sit for a minute:" Surveying the deserted waiting room, she gestured toward a grouping of chairs and led the way. "Slow night. I guess no one felt sick enough to venture out at two in the morning on one of the coldest nights of the year. Except Ms. Sutton:"

  "How is she, doctor?" Rebecca leaned forward, twisting her hands in her lap.

  Nick's fingers clenched around the arms of his chair as he braced himself.

  "Holding her own. Her core temperature has risen two degrees, to ninety-one. We're rewarming as aggressively as we can without putting her at further risk. We've done a chest X-ray, an electrocardiogram, and we're running blood work now. We've seen no evidence of arrhythmias, meaning her heart doesn't appear to have been overly stressed by her exposure, but we'll be keeping a close watch on that for a while. She also suffered a concussion, has various contusions and bruises-including some nasty ones on her neck that appear to be the result of an attempted strangulation-and a few fingers and toes have second-degree frostbite."

  "What's the prognosis?" Nick asked.

  "If all goes well with the rewarming, she'll regain consciousness soon and begin talking not long after that. The concussion shouldn't cause any major problems. We've already rewarmed her fingers and toes in warm water. That can be quite painful, so in a way it's a blessing she's not conscious. I expect to see some blisters and edema-swelling, in lay terms-on them in the next twelve hours, and she'll have some discomfort for a while, but we can treat that with pain medication. She could also have some longer-term tingling or loss of sensitivity in the affected fingers and toes, though. Other than that, by tomorrow there should be little physical evidence of her traumatic experience beyond her bruises. Hypothermia puts the body into a safe mode that protects the vital organs. It's really quite amazing."

  For the first time in almost ten hours, the tension in Nick's shoulders eased a fraction. "Can we see her?"

  "Two of you can come back. Don't be alarmed by all the equipment. She's doing well."

  As they rose, Mark spoke in a low tone to Nick. "I'll wait. And I'll take Rebecca back to the hotel whenever she's ready to go. She's about to fold. What are your plans?"

  "I'm staying"

  "That's what I thought. I'll have Emily follow me into work in the morning and I'll drop your car off."

  "Thanks"

  "No problem:"

  The doctor and Rebecca were waiting at the door to the ER, and Nick hurried to catch up, following them to a curtained alcove.

  As the doctor swept aside the draping to allow them to enter, he was glad she'd already given them a positive report on Rachel and warned them about the equipment. Because if he'd stepped in here unprepared, he'd have panicked. An oxygen mask covered her face, IVs were positioned on either side of the bed, a cardiac monitor was displaying continuous data, and there were several other pieces of equipment he couldn't identify. She was also covered with an odd blanket.

  "That's a warming blanket. It contains heated air," the doctor explained as Nick placed a tentative hand on top of it. "We're also giving her heated, humidified oxygen to speed the core rewarming"

  As she spoke, he moved closer to the head of the bed. "What's the
tape on her cheek?"

  "It's securing the tube for the esophageal probe. That's the most accurate way to monitor her core temperature"

  "May we stay with her?" Rebecca asked, moving to the other side of the bed.

  "Yes. It will be good for her to see a familiar face when she begins to regain consciousness. But it's obvious you've both had a tough night too. One of you might want to try and get some sleep. Nothing much will happen here for at least an hour:"

  "There's an empty couch in the waiting room; Nick said to Rebecca. "Why don't you stretch out for a little while? I'll call you as soon as she starts to stir"

  "I don't know ... I feel like I should stay here" Rebecca tucked her hair behind her ear and moistened her lips as she cast an uncertain glance at Rachel.

  "I second the gentleman's recommendation; the doctor joined in. "No sense everyone losing sleep"

  With a sigh, Rebecca capitulated. "Okay. But you'll call the minute she begins to wake up?"

  "You have my word; Nick promised.

  "I'll walk you out. And round up a pillow for you;' the doctor told Rebecca.

  With one last lingering look at her sister, Rebecca exited. The doctor pulled the drapes back into place, leaving Nick alone with Rachel.

  For several minutes he stood unmoving, watching her, saying a silent prayer of thanks. Then he leaned over and traced a gentle finger around her hairline, over skin that was still too cool, stopping when he came to the bruised bump on her temple. As he thought about how close he'd come to losing her, his throat tightened and his eyes misted.

  Blinking to clear his vision, he slid his hand under the warming blanket until he found hers. Covering her fingers with his, he eased a hip onto the edge of her bed and settled in.

  Because he intended to stay put until she opened those velvet brown eyes and he knew she was back. For good.

  Someone was holding her hand. And it felt good.

  Sighing, Rachel burrowed deeper into the warmth surrounding her. That, too, felt good. Yet even enveloped in this balmy cocoon, she felt chilled to the bone. How odd. And why were her fingers throbbing? She tried to flex them. Frowned. That hurt worse.