by David Archer
When he got there, he was surprised to note that the two men who'd driven him back to his truck the night before were still sitting down the hall from Indie's room, even though the police guard had already been withdrawn after Unger's arrest, and he told them that the problem was over. The two stood and walked out without saying a word.
Grace, Kim, and Kenzie were waiting with Indie in her room, and his mother told him that they'd been trying to call him for a couple of hours. Sam checked his phone and saw that it was dead; he'd forgotten to put it on the charger the night before, and it hadn't even occurred to him that morning at all.
Sam went to Indie and sat on the edge of the bed, where she was sitting up and holding Kenzie cuddled up close to her. He put an arm around her, and said, “We got him, Babe.”
Indie smiled up at him, and tears began to run down her cheeks. She leaned her face into his shoulder, and he pulled her even closer. “Sam,” she said, “I've been so scared all morning. I knew you'd be there, and when we couldn't get you on the phone, I got so scared...”
“Shhh,” he said. “It's okay, it's all over. He's down in surgery now, most likely, because I put a half-dozen bullets in him. He's going to face charges on every case we can tie to him, and I think it'll be enough to make the governor refuse to stop this execution.”
“I knew you'd be okay,” she whispered. “Even when we couldn't reach you, somehow I knew. Mom said Beauregard told her you were okay, but we still wanted to hear it from you.”
Kenzie touched his arm, and he smiled down at his daughter. “Hey, Baby girl,” he said. “You been taking care of Mommy for me this morning?”
“Yes,” she said calmly, but there was a worried look on her face. “Daddy, did you get shot again?”
Sam smiled and waved his arms to show her he was unhurt. “Nope, not even a scratch! I'm all good, Sweetie.”
Kenzie smiled, then, and Sam almost broke into tears at the relief in her face. “I'm glad, I don't like it when you and Mommy get shot.”
“Yeah,” Sam said, his eyes wide like hers. “Me, neither! It hurts and it makes you grumpy!”
“Hey,” Indie said, “I got shot and I'm not grumpy!”
“Yeah? Just wait ‘til those pain pills wear off.”
“Dr. Elkhart came in a while ago,” Grace said, “and he said Indie could go home after lunch, so we're just waiting for the nurse to bring her prescriptions and convalescence instructions. You got here just in time to take her home.”
“You think? With that bandage on her head, our neighbors are gonna think I traded her in for an Indian girl,” Sam said.
“Hey, this bandage is keeping my head together! The nurse said they only cut a little bit of my hair, right around the wound, so if I brush it right, no one will even see it.”
Sam grinned. “Good, cause I don't know if I could handle you with short hair. Your hair's the real reason I fell in love with you, y'know.” He kissed her cheek. “You know darn well I don't care about that; you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, Indie, with or without hair!”
Indie slapped his face lightly. “Yeah, sure,” she said, “I bet you say that to all the girls!”
“Only the ones that matter,” Sam said, “because you're all the girls that could ever matter to me.”
“Aw, that's so sweet,” said Kim. “Sam, I want to talk to the doctor for a minute, why don't you come with me?”
Sam started to decline, but when he glanced at his mother-in-law, he saw something in her eyes that made him change his mind. “Sure,” he said with a grin. “I want to thank him, anyway, for taking such good care of my baby doll, here!” He slid off the bed and followed Kim out of the room.
They'd gone about fifty feet, far enough to be sure no one in the room could hear them, when Sam stopped and said, “Okay? What's the message?”
Kim grinned sheepishly. “That easy to see through me, is it? Beauregard says to tell you it isn't over just yet. He won't say any more than that, but he says you'll know what to do.”
A chill went down Sam's spine. “Go back and stay with Indie. Don't let them leave until I come back.” He took off down the hall toward the elevator.
Police and sheriff's prisoners were treated in a special room on the ground floor of the hospital, just behind the public emergency room. Unger would have been brought in through the ER entrance, then moved back to that room before being seen by a doctor. Sam pushed the down button on the elevator and waited impatiently for a few seconds as it rose to his floor, then rode it down just as impatiently. When it opened on the main floor, he hurried out and straight toward the ER.
Sam went through the double doors that led back to the secure area, and knew instantly that Beauregard had been right once again. One of the three policemen who had accompanied Unger was standing just outside the door, his face ashen and his gun drawn. When Sam came rushing in, the officer turned and pointed his weapon at him, and Sam waved his hands and identified himself.
“Whoa, man, I'm Sam Prichard, I'm the guy who brought Unger down! Where is he?”
The cop stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. “I don't know—I went to the bathroom, they were just getting ready to take him up to a room, but I had to go, and when I got back a minute ago...” He pointed at the door into the secure treatment room, and Sam slowly walked over and looked through the small glass square.
The other two officers, a nurse, and a doctor were on the floor, and there was blood everywhere. There was nowhere inside where Unger could have been hiding, so Sam turned back to the cop. “Call Karen Parks, right now!” he yelled, and ran as fast as his hip would allow back the way he'd come. He grabbed a nurse and said, “You've got people down in secure ER, blood everywhere, get people back there now!” He ran on.
He didn't know where Unger was, but he'd bet his life he knew where he was going. Still in a hospital gown, and barely able to walk, the bastard was going after Indie, Sam was sure of it! He rushed back to the elevator and hit the button for it again, and when it opened, he was inside and stabbing at the button for the fifth floor instantly. The doors closed and the elevator began to rise, while Sam danced up and down on his good leg, willing it to go faster. He should never have left Indie, he thought, he should have stayed there and waited for Unger to come…
When the doors opened again, Sam hurried back to her room, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he got there and saw that all of them were safe, that Indie and Kenzie and Grace and Kim were all sitting there unhurt—but then he saw the looks on their faces, and knew that Unger was in the room, that he'd just run in and let the bastard get behind him. He turned slowly, and sure enough, there he was, leaning against the wall behind the open door, a policeman's service automatic in his hand.
“Sam,” he said with a twisted, lopsided grin, “you should have killed me when you had the chance.”
“Unger, this is over,” Sam said. “Even if you kill me now, you can't get out of here, there's nowhere to run, no way to escape. Give me the gun and let's let it end the way it's supposed to...”
“It didn't end the way it was supposed to, Sam!” Unger screamed at him. “You were supposed to stop me, take me down! I didn't want to get caught, Sam, I wanted to die! As long as I'm alive, I can't stop this, I can't help it! It's a need in me, it's something I can't control, a demon that won't let me alone! The only way out was to die, and you took that from me!” He had tears in his eyes, and his face was a grimace of pain and rage, as he held the gun shakily in his left hand. “You took that from me, Sam,” he said, calmly this time. “So, I'm going to take from you, now.” He flicked his eyes at Sam's family, all gathered on or beside the bed. “I'll let you choose, Sam. Which one can you best stand to lose? Your mother? Your wife? Oh, how about the mother-in-law? Every man hates his mother in law, right? How about if I take her?” He started to raise the gun away from Sam and aim it at Kim.
“No!” Sam shouted. “No! You're not taking anyone, Unger. You even breathe wrong at this moment
, and I'll take you down and I guarantee you that you'll spend the rest of your miserable life in a straight jacket, so all you can do is sit there and think about the fact that you can't go anywhere, you can't kill anyone, you can't even feed yourself—”
The gun swung back to Sam. “Then maybe I should just kill you, Sam! Maybe that would be enough to get me through, you think? If I kill the one man who could get the better of me?”
Sam smiled. “It might,” he said, “but you won't. You won't kill me because there's this little, tiny bit of hope or doubt or whatever you want to call it, somewhere deep inside you, that says you might get loose again someday, and if you do, then you want to be sure that I'm out here, ready to stop you again. You can't risk killing me, because I'm all that stands between you and the world, Unger. And you think that if you hurt any of the people I love, then I'll go ahead and finish you off, but I won't—I'll take you down as soon as you move that gun off of me, and then you'll spend every day for the next fifty years going crazy because you can't feed your addiction.”
Unger glared at Sam, but didn't say anything, and Sam knew he had found something that scared him worse than death. Outside, they could hear the sound of sirens screaming toward them, and cars screeching to a stop on the street.
“On the other hand,” Sam said, “you can walk out of here right now, gun and all, and there are a dozen cops waiting to help you get what you want. They won't be willing to take you alive, they'll just want to pay you back for those poor guys downstairs, and they'll give you exactly what you wanted me to give you. It's your call, Unger; you hurt my family, I'll make sure you live in misery for many, many years. I'll campaign to make sure you don't get the death penalty—or you can walk out the front door and it'll all end, just the way you wanted.”
Unger stared at him for another moment, then took a step forward, away from the wall. Sam moved back a step, and Unger began walking backward out the door, the gun still on Sam. Sam followed, and he heard Indie calling to him, begging him to come back, but he had to be sure, so he followed Unger all the way to the elevator, and waited for it to open.
Unger looked him in the eye. “If they don't kill me,” he said softly, “if I ever do get out—you'll kill me, right?”
“Yes,” Sam said simply.
“Swear it,” Unger said. “Swear it before I go.”
Sam swallowed. “I swear it,” he said. Unger got into the elevator and the doors closed. Sam sagged against the wall as the numbers beside it went lower and lower, and just a moment after they stopped, Sam heard what sounded like popcorn, the sound of a hundred shots being fired rapidly from a dozen guns, all coming up through five floors of a modern building, and he knew that he'd never have to keep that promise after all.
Sam walked back to Indie's room, and found his family all huddled together on the bed, so he just sat down in a free spot and wrapped his own arms around them.
10
The hospital was on lockdown for a couple of hours, as police dealt with the panic that Unger had caused. Karen Parks came and found Sam, and got his statement about his final confrontation with the killer, then let him take Indie and his family home. He called Harry Winslow to let him know that the emergency was over, and that the bodyguards could all go back to whatever criminal activity they enjoyed most.
“So, it's really all over, then?” Harry asked.
“Yeah, it's over. Unger took about forty rounds, and I'm told there wasn't enough left intact to identify, so it's a good thing the whole shooting was recorded by the hospital's security cameras. Otherwise, we might be looking for this guy over our shoulders for years to come, but there's no doubt he's dead.”
“Well, that's what he gets for messing with Sam Prichard, right? Okay, Sam, I'll call them off; you take your family home and get some rest, Son, you deserve it. You never know, you might have to save the world again tomorrow.”
Sam smiled into the phone. “I'm thinking about going back into retirement, Harry, or maybe just sticking to music for a while. I didn't have this much trouble when I was on the force, for cryin' out loud!”
Harry laughed. “You won't retire, Sam,” he said. “I've come to know you pretty well, Son, and you're a lot like me; neither one of us could say no when we're needed. And speaking of that, if you were to want a better job, I've just been promoted to Denver's Homeland Security Director; I'd be proud to say I've got Sam Prichard on my team.”
It was Sam's turn to chuckle. “I think I'll stick with being a free agent,” he said. “Besides, I know you well enough to know you'll call me in if you really think you need me.”
“Ain't that the truth?” Harry said, and then the line was dead.
Sam finally got the okay to leave the hospital around two thirty, and then had to calm Indie down while a nurse insisted on taking her down the elevator in a wheelchair; she wanted to walk, even though she was wincing every time she tried to move, but at last she gave in and got into the chair. Sam went out and got the truck to bring to the front doors, and then helped her climb up into it. Kenzie got into her car seat on her own, and Sam buckled her in. Then he got back behind the wheel and drove them all home.
Indie looked over at him as he drove. “Sam,” she said, “were you serious about retiring?”
Sam shrugged. “I don't know, Babe,” he said. “I like being a PI, but I always thought a PI's life was pretty boring, mostly just watching people and asking questions that nobody wants to answer; I've had enough adventures to last a lifetime, I think, but I don't know that I really want to quit.”
She smiled. “Good,” she said. “I don't think I'd like being just a country singer's wife. Granted, I could do without all the, um, excitement...”
“That means Mommy doesn't like getting shot, either,” Kenzie said, and Sam and Indie both laughed.
“Yes, that's exactly what it means,” Sam said to their daughter, “and I agree with her! No more getting shot, right, Kenzie?”
“Right!”
They got home, and Sam helped Indie into the house, where Samson proceeded to let them all know how displeased he was that Sam had forgotten to refill his bowl or clean his litter box. Kenzie volunteered to feed the cat, and Sam took care of the litter, and then they all sat in the living room and relaxed with a movie.
Sam and Indie sat on the couch, cuddled up together like always, and they ignored the phone for the rest of the day. Most of the calls were from reporters, and Sam didn't feel like giving them a statement on this case, so they let all of the calls go to voicemail. They watched a movie that Kenzie chose, about a snail who dreamed of being a race driver, and Sam thought it was hilarious, but he forced himself not to laugh after he noticed Indie wincing from the motion every time he did.
Sam had a thought. “By the way,” he said. “You remember you said Herman has been doing things that he shouldn't be able to do?”
“Mm-hmm,” Indie said, carefully not nodding as she did so.
“Well, this morning, I went out to the office just to look at something, and there was a list of links on the screen. I clicked one to see what it was, and Herman had somehow gotten it in his head to get me the blueprints and schematics for the warehouse building.” He looked at her. “Indie, is your computer coming to life? I mean, isn't that sort of impossible?”
Indie smiled, and carefully twisted herself around so she could see his face better. “Yeah, that's impossible,” she said, “but that wasn't Herman, Babe, that was me. I woke up about four this morning and was waiting for a pain pill to kick in, and it hit me that if you had the blueprints, it might help, so I called up Herman and told him to get them for you, but then the pain pill hit and I fell asleep before I could send you a message about it. I'm glad you found it; did it help?”
Sam kissed her gently. “Did it help?” he repeated. “It probably saved my life, and Karen's too!”
When the movie ended, it was almost five thirty, and Sam asked, “Anybody hungry?”
Indie smiled. “I'm starved,” she sai
d. “It's true what they say about hospital food not filling you up!”
“That's because they don’t want to risk spending any of their profits on food the patients might like, or they'd never get them to leave. What would you like? I'll make dinner tonight.”
Kenzie yelled, “Spaghetti!” and Indie smiled and said that sounded good to her, too, so Sam went into the kitchen and set a pot of water to boil while he dug through the cabinets and found spaghetti and sauce, then started frying some ground beef to go into it. Forty minutes later he set three places at the kitchen table, and invited Indie and Kenzie to come and eat.
“Daddy,” Kenzie said as she twirled noodles onto her fork, “is that bad man dead, now?”
Sam looked at Indie; they'd decided to wait and let Kenzie bring it up, rather than trying to explain it to her before she was ready to hear it.
“Yes, Sweetie, he is,” Sam said. “Did he scare you pretty bad?”
Kenzie sat there for a moment, twirling the fork, and then she set it down. “Yesterday,” she said, “at children's church, they told us about God, and how when you're in trouble you should always ask God to help you. When that bad man came in and everyone got scared, I closed my eyes and asked God to help us, and He did.”
Sam and Indie shared a glance, and Indie asked, “He did?”
Kenzie nodded her head. “Yes,” she said. “I said, 'God, help us, cause there's a bad man and he wants to hurt us,' and then Daddy came back in and I knew God sent Daddy back to make sure the bad man didn't hurt anybody. But when you were talking to him, and he said he wanted to be dead, I knew God was gonna make him be dead, too, so he wouldn't hurt anyone anymore.” She picked up her fork and took a big bite of spaghetti. “This is good, Daddy,” she said, and then went on eating.
Sam and Indie looked at each other, and Sam asked the question they were both thinking. “Do you think it's time we started going to church regularly?”
Indie smiled. “I did sort of like it there,” she said. “Caleb's a pretty good preacher.”