by Alan Chaput
A knock sounded at the door. Her attention darted toward the entrance. When she saw Hayley shuffle in with Trey right behind her, Patricia’s body tensed. Hayley moved ever so slowly, wearing a scruffy green hospital gown identical to the one shrouding Patricia. Hayley’s ointment-slathered face was red and puffy like a bad sunburn. Patricia couldn’t help but wonder what the rest of Hayley’s body looked like.
As their eyes met, Hayley looked as stricken at seeing Patricia as Patricia felt about seeing her daughter.
Oh, Hayley, I’m so sorry. The words were in her head but she couldn’t speak them.
Trey, straight and steady, walked to the bedside.
She dragged her gaze to him. Her man. Her dear husband. His gray-streaked hair shimmered in the bright overhead light that also accentuated his cheekbones above his mask.
He looked at her tenderly. “Thank God I have my girls back together again.” He touched her hand. “How are you doing today?”
“Much better,” she whispered, trying to maintain a sense of dignity. Her raw throat made speaking painful. But forced silence for two days made her want to speak her mind. “How are you taking this?” she asked, knowing his steely exterior hid emotions he’d only share when solicited.
His eyes pleaded for understanding. “I failed you and Hayley.”
She squeezed his hand. “It’s not your fault.”
He paused, open-mouthed. His eyes gleamed, or were tears forming? He hung his head. “You don’t know how much you treasure your family until they’re nearly snatched from you and made to suffer beyond my comprehension.”
She hated seeing him so pained, so exhausted.
He tilted his chin up a tad and rolled his shoulders back. “But, it is what it is.” He put his arm around Hayley and added gently, “With God’s help, we’ll make it through this. We always have.”
She knew his words, though spoken humbly, were no idle boast. They had survived disasters before, had been richly blessed, and were sincerely thankful.
A tear slipped down to the top of Hayley’s mask.
“About your security,” Trey said. “In addition to the guards, Father John’s going to take care of things here when I can’t.”
Patricia’s throat constricted. “You’re leaving?”
“Just to sleep. Father John and I share a room down the hall.”
“You can sleep here.” She gestured toward the guest chair.
“They’re still worried about infection and want you isolated as much as possible. Plus, I have a full bed in the other room.”
“You don’t look rested.” Though talking hurt, the interaction lifted her spirits. And the more normal she acted, though exhaustion and the drugs were pulling her away, the more settled Trey would become. “You need to take better care of yourself.”
“Me?” He shook his head. “No. I need to take better care of my family. Speaking of which …” Trey opened a small duffle bag he carried and removed a handgun. “I want you to keep this close.” He offered her the gun.
“They’re concerned with infection. Is this sanitized?”
“One hundred percent.” He handed her the gun.
“I thought guns weren’t allowed here.”
“They aren’t. Your protection is more important to me than their laws. Besides, I’m working on securing diplomatic immunity for you while we deal with this.”
“What about the guards outside?” she asked.
“This will hedge the bet.”
“My last resort.” She took the gun and checked it. The safety was off and a round was chambered. She slid the gun under her pillow, then wondered how she’d hide the gun when they changed her bedding. She’d cover that base when necessary. “Any progress on who attacked us?”
“The car was rented with a fake driver’s license. The rental agency’s security camera was broken. At this point the police are drawing blanks.”
“So, since the French police don’t have a clue, who’s going to catch this madman with you staying here?”
“Father John and I have all our combined resources focused on catching this killer. Believe me, they’ll catch him. Now, you just worry about getting better so I can have some of your hugs again.”
* * *
Trey entered the hospital cafeteria and spotted Judy sitting alone at a corner table, staring blankly with hands clasped in her lap. She was dressed impeccably in a beige silk suit with her hair pulled back into a ponytail.
He crossed to her.
She stood.
“Judy, you shouldn’t be here. With the attack on Patricia, it’s too dangerous for you to be traveling about in the city.”
“How is Patricia today? When can I see her?”
“She’s on the mend. In fact, she doesn’t have to sleep on her front anymore. She’s itching to get back to investigating.”
“So, can I see her?”
“She’s going through treatments right now. Maybe you could visit later today, before dinner. I know she’d like the company. Can you stay until then?”
“Absolutely.”
Trey escorted Judy to a secure waiting room on Patricia’s floor and told the guards to let Judy know when Patricia could have visitors. He then spun on his heels and strode back to his suite.
He was looking forward to getting on the video link with the other Coalition directors that afternoon. He hadn’t communicated with them for a couple of days. He hoped they would have good news. If not the name of the killer, at least substantial progress. Was that too much to ask?
Fatigue gnawed at his senses. Trey pressed his fingertips into his temples. All he wanted was sleep, but he couldn’t get his mind off one pressing issue—his near-fatal mistake of leaving his family alone in Paris.
He’d not been an attentive father or husband in the past. Between work and the Coalition there hadn’t been enough time. He’d foregone so many family pleasures over the years for the sake of preserving the peace in Savannah. He’d missed countless vacations, school activities, birthdays and anniversaries. His stomach churned at the thought of how unfair his work focus had been to Patricia and Hayley. They deserved better.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. Truth be told, he wasn’t critical to the Coalition’s success. No one was. They had adequate resources at all levels. The directors could function without him. He supposed he could cut back on time spent on Cotton Coalition matters. But was that even possible? He lived to serve, and they seemed to own him. He would change that, today.
He crossed the beige marble lobby to the gleaming brass elevators. The elevator door opened before he could touch the call button—a delightful courtesy presumably triggered by the VIP concierge.
He glanced at his watch. He was right on time for his videoconference with the Coalition directors. Arriving at the door to the suite, he inserted his pass card into the electronic lock. He entered the quiet sanctuary and his feet and mind jarred to a stop. His hand darted for the underarm-holstered gun, then stopped halfway. Could his eyes be deceiving him? Was he that tired? He shook his head to verify what his eyes were seeing—Beau, Alton, Hempfield and Potter crowded around a circular table strewn with papers and laptop computers.
Chapter 30
The sight of his Savannah brethren filled his heart and eased some of the tension Trey had carried since learning of the attack on Patricia and Hayley. A good friend was hard to come by, and he had four of the best. This was a testament to why the Coalition owned part of him.
Beau, dressed in wrinkled khaki trousers and a pale blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, stood and fixed his eyes on Trey. “How’s Patricia?”
Trey ran his hand through his hair. “She’s making remarkable progress, but she tires easily.”
The faint lines at the corners of Beau’s eyes crinkled. He tilted his head. “And Hayley?”
“Much better,” Trey said as he crossed the terrazzo hall to the table and placed his briefcase at an empty spot next to Beau. He took a long moment to stare at h
is friends and slowly extended his arms. “I cannot express what this means to me, gentlemen.”
“Did you see Judy?” Beau asked. “She’s here to see Patricia and Hayley.”
“Yes. I asked her to delay her visit because Patricia is getting inhalation treatments. Judy’s in the secure waiting room. The guards will let her know when Patricia can see visitors.”
Alton, wearing dark brown pants and a beige shirt, torso bent almost horizontal, trudged over and clasped Trey’s hand. “How’re you holding up?”
“Jet-lagged. Tired.” He clung to Alton’s surprisingly firm, surprisingly soothing hand. “Very tired. How are you holding up, my dear friend?”
“Still kickin’. Just started a new drug that seems to be working. Actually, it was invented over here. Don’t that beat all?” Alton raised his bushy eyebrows. “Now, Trey, anything y’all need, anything at all, you be sure to let me know.”
Thinking about how the killer might have tracked them, and knowing how much Alton needed to feel helpful, Trey answered, “Come to think about it, Patricia and Hayley could use new secure phones that operate in this country.”
Alton’s face brightened. He winked. “I’ll get right on it.”
Trey glanced around. “Y’all going to be here for a while?”
“We’re here until we wrap up this nasty business.” Potter came over and put his hand on Trey’s shoulder. The dark stubble on Potter’s face suggested he hadn’t shaved for a while. It was quite unlike him to go unshaven. He was normally meticulously groomed.
Trey twisted his mouth. “That could take some time.”
“Doesn’t it always?” Potter said, stepping back. “But when we’re working on something as important as this, time doesn’t matter.”
Hempfield stepped around the table and draped an arm over Trey’s shoulder. “We’ll take care of you, buddy. And we’ll get that killer as well. Do you want to rest a spell before you join us?”
Trey glanced at the file folders and computers littering the table. “Rest? It looks like y’all started without me.”
Smiling, Hempfield patted him on the back. “Started? We started on the flight over and never stopped. We each work for as long as we can, then sleep while the others continue on. There’s always at least one of us online. We’re open twenty-four hours a day.”
“You got to be kidding.”
Hempfield shook his head. “It was Alton’s idea, and it seems to be working. We get information real time and immediately integrate it. We’re beginning to have enough pieces of this puzzle that some parts are actually making sense.” Hempfield gestured across the table toward Beau. “For example, Beau has figured out what poison the killer used and we’re investigating distribution points within a day’s drive of Savannah.”
“Online?” Trey asked.
“No legal online sales permitted.”
Trey looked down at the floor for a moment as a thought formed. “If the poison works in a half hour, have we been able to determine who was with the victims in that time frame?”
“Not yet.” Hempfield ran his fingers through his unruly hair. “Henrietta was at her country club. Alisa was at home. We have no idea exactly where Herman was a half hour prior to his death, but the autopsy of his stomach suggests he was at a fast-food restaurant. Seventy miles per hour would back calculate to just west of Savannah. We’re checking fast-food facilities for security videos.”
“What was the time of death for Alisa?” Trey asked.
Potter straightened and tapped his keyboard. “Five p.m.”
“Was anyone at home with her at that time?” The thrill of the hunt surged in Trey.
“Just her husband,” Potter said, glancing at his monitor. “Hmmm. Autopsy says her stomach indicated she’d just completed a light meal.”
“So in each case the poison was administered with food,” Trey said, pleased the puzzle was coming together so well.
“But Herman didn’t administer the poison,” Potter said. “It goes without saying he wouldn’t kill himself. And Alisa died after Herman. The killer is someone else. Someone who hired Herman.”
Hempfield keyed up an Internet site on his laptop. As traffic videos came on, he said, “Herman seems to be the key. We have a contractor going through traffic footage looking for Herman’s truck. We’ve had some hits on his license number on the days prior to Henrietta’s death. We’re hoping to establish a travel pattern that would indicate where he spent his nights.”
“What about parking garage footage?” Trey asked.
“We haven’t started on that yet.”
Trey sat down in an empty chair and keyed his laptop. “He had to park his truck somewhere when he was sleeping.”
* * *
A sharp knock sounded at the door.
Patricia stiffened.
The door eased open.
Patricia tried to sit up, the movement causing pain.
Hayley came into the room with an easy gait.
“Hi, honey,” Patricia said, relieved and sagging into a tension-free state. “Can you stay for a while?”
“About an hour. Until dinner.” Hayley pulled a chair to the bedside and sat.
“How are your treatments going?”
“Fine.” Hayley inclined her head a tad and raised her eyebrows. “Yours?”
“Mostly infection prevention treatments and so far no issues.” She held up her right arm. “They took the bandages off my arms, uh, an hour ago.”
Hayley’s eyes widened. “That’s great, Mama.” Hayley leaned forward. “I remember when I was young you told me the Falcon women have always carried guns for protection. Protection from what?”
Patricia tensed again, sending stabbing pain into her back wounds. She willed herself calm. As the pain drained, she wished she could have avoided this conversation forever, that she could have continued to shield her lovely daughter from reality. But, since Trey had armed Hayley when she left for college and the killer had Hayley in his crosshairs, the time for the reality check had clearly come. Patricia hoped she would be able to help Hayley handle whatever distress the discussion would ferment.
“Do you have a dream for what you would like your life to be?”
An awkward silence followed, then Hayley said, “The future? The future is so distant. So much can happen. No. I don’t have a dream like that. Do you?”
“Oh yes, sweetheart.” Patricia’s throat constricted. Tears welled. She brushed them aside and composed herself. “I dream of a better future. I dream that someday we—Daddy, you and I—can be truly safe.”
Hayley looked at her expectantly. “From what?”
“Centuries ago, the first Falcon in Savannah, Moses, made a vow to protect the city of Savannah and ultimately the colony. Back then it was one of the few major ports, so it was an important patriotic duty. Our enemies are different today, but no less powerful, and each time one of them comes up against the Falcon family, we make more enemies. Corrupt enemies who would like nothing more than to see our family destroyed.” Patricia took a long deep breath. “We don’t know if this is what is at work here, but we have always been taught to protect ourselves and serve our city. You may not have noticed it, but all of your training from marksmanship to civic duty has been a part of that heritage. I’d hoped to simply let you enjoy college, but with your decision to travel, and the situation our family is in, it’s time you knew everything.”
“We’re not savages. We’re civilized folk. Civilized people don’t act like that.”
“Most don’t, some do.” Patricia studied her daughter’s eyes, remembering when Hayley was a little girl shooting a pint-sized pistol for the first time. That gleeful girl had become a woman. A woman who, for her own safety, needed to know the truth. Patricia’s heart fluttered. “But, darling, though you can’t always see it, there is evil everywhere. And when evil becomes powerful in Savannah, it encounters your father and his friends. And it encounters the Falcon family.”
Hayley nodded at Patric
ia’s pillow. “Have you shot anyone?”
Patricia thought back to her hesitation that had almost gotten her killed when she was rescuing Faith from her abusive husband. Putting a bullet into another person was a terrible action to have to live with. An action easy to ignore at the practice range, easy to set aside when her gun was resting inside her designer purse. “Not yet.”
“Could you?”
She let out a long, raspy breath that hurt. Could she maim, or possibly kill someone? Intentionally take a life? She shuddered. “I’d like to think I’d be able to do what was necessary to anyone who threatened to hurt my family or friends.”
Hayley’s eyes moistened. “Do you ever just want to run away from all this?”
“Not really. It’s the same everywhere. You can’t escape the savages. And most anywhere we could go has more danger than we face in Savannah.”
“Savannah’s crime rate isn’t that low.”
“Honey, anyone who comes after us knows what the consequences will be. Our family has spent centuries teaching that lesson.”
“Someone killed Grams.”
“Definitely someone who doesn’t care to live.”
Hayley gave a shrug. “He’s still out there after killing three people and evading apprehension on two continents.”
“He’s been lucky.” Patricia took a deep breath. “But his luck will run out. It always does. Trust me.”
“Daddy was talking about trust yesterday.”
“I hope you heeded his advice.”
Hayley nodded. “Mama, I’ve changed my mind about dropping out of college.”
“Why?”
Hayley gestured to her face. “Recent events, and lying in bed feeling powerless.”
Patricia nodded.
“I need an education. And I want it out of the way.”
“So you’re going back to school?”
Hayley smiled. “Summer school, if I can still get in. I’d like to try to get my bachelor’s in three years. My Advanced Placement courses gave me a running start on it. And after summer school, I can take a maximum schedule this fall.”