by Cat Connor
Nothing. No messages. No email. Why?
The clock on the wall ticked. Would she be there yet? I did a quick calculation. Yes, she should be.
Pausing. Phone in hand. Something was wrong.
I sent Ellie a text.
Back at the desk, I leaned back in the chair and looked at the screen in front of me. Nausea rose as I stared at a blank screen.
Smoke. Spinning. Nausea. What was happening? Then the dark. Why was it dark?
My phone screen lit up. Not Ellie. I ignored it.
Seconds later, it lit again. Ellie.
I answered it.
“Mitch?”
It wasn’t Ellie’s voice. It was an older sounding male.
“Yes, who’s this?”
“It’s Caine Grafton, Ellie’s SAC.” He paused. “The helicopter crashed. Ellie is injured. We don’t know how badly. She’s on her way to Inova Fairfax.”
“Did it crash in Virginia?”
“No, D.C.”
“Then why bring her back? A hospital in Washington would be closest.”
“Trauma centers are full. D.C. is stretched to the limit. Fairfax has room,” Caine replied.
“Her father, Simon?”
“He’s been notified and will meet you at the hospital.”
“Thank you.”
I hung up and finished the last of my coffee while concentrating on Ellie and breathing. There had to be a way through the dark that surrounded her.
Nothing.
The nothing hurt. It crushed my chest.
I shoved my phone in my pocket and found my car keys.
Twenty minutes later, I parked in the Gray parking lot at the hospital and walked into the emergency room. I saw Simon before he saw me and hurried over.
“Have you seen her?” I asked, noting there were a lot of police around.
“Not yet,” Simon replied. “Thought I saw Kurt going into a level 1 trauma room, but I can’t be sure.” He leaned back in his chair. “We’ve been here a few times, Mitch. I know this is new for you, but for me, welcome to life with Ellie. It’s never dull.”
I took a breath. There was still darkness when I tried to see Ellie. That wasn’t right. I could always see her or feel her unless she blocked me. This time I doubted she was blocking me. It felt bad.
“Do you know what happened?”
“Crash investigators are still at the scene. A bystander described a flash from the ground before the helicopter crashed.”
“It was shot down?”
“That’s where my money is, Caine’s too.”
“So this could be something to do with the situation in D.C?”
“I’d say so, wouldn’t you?”
I nodded. It made as much sense as anything else.
“The pilot? Was anyone else onboard?”
“The pilot is dead …died at the scene.”
The pilot died. Ellie didn’t.
I hung onto those thoughts for a minute.
“It was a marked helicopter?”
“Yes, a black Eurocopter AS350 with FBI written on the tail.”
“Where did it happen?”
“In the street, not far from the cordon. The flash appeared to come from the direction of the Mall.”
I nodded again and wished someone would come and tell us we could see her. I needed to see her. To know what was happening and why it was all so dark.
The dark wasn’t right. It wasn’t Ellie. She was light. Rainbows of light.
Somewhere in my head, I heard a gasp. Small shards of light cracked through the darkness.
I looked at Simon.
“She’s trying to wake up.”
He frowned for a second. “How do you know?”
I gave that some thought but didn’t come up with much of an explanation. “Not sure. I just know. It’s been dark, too dark to see her and now there is a sliver of light. She’s trying.”
Simon regarded me. “You’re aware how that sounds, I take it?”
“Yes. Yes I am.”
I was very aware how it sounded.
“You sound like Ellie.”
“I know.”
“That’s beyond finishing each other’s sentences, Mitchell,” Simon’s voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Ellie’s brain is no place to hang out.”
“It’s not a choice I made, Simon. It just happened.”
Ellie’s voice filled my head. Mitch! I looked at Simon and then beyond the reception desk at the corridor and the many sliding curtained glass doors opening off it. She was in one of them.
“What’s the matter?” Simon asked.
“She’s calling me. Where did you see Kurt?”
Simon stood up and beckoned me to follow. “This way.”
We strode along the corridor and stopped outside a glass door. It was shut but the curtain wasn’t. Through the glass, I saw Kurt standing near a bed. Lights, machines, nurses, doctors. Crowded. I knocked once and opened the door. A doctor looked up and told me to leave.
“No,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Kurt looked over.
“He stays,” Kurt said. “Come closer, Mitch, but don’t get in the way.”
I nodded. He pointed me to a gap near the wall from where I could watch and Ellie could hear me, if she were capable.
“Will she be okay?”
“It’s Ellie, she’s tough,” Kurt replied, then under his breath muttered, “I hope so.”
“Can I touch her?”
He moved over a little and allowed me access to her hand. I lifted her pale cool, almost lifeless hand from the bed and held it in mine. She didn’t react.
“El, I’m here.”
Nothing. No sign that she could hear me or knew I was there. I looked at Kurt.
“She’s breathing, that’s a good thing,” he replied. “Let me run down the list. Brain injury. Rib fractures. Spleen injury, which may require surgery.” Kurt glanced at a machine near him. “I’m not happy.”
Kurt moved away and consulted with the other doctors in a low voice. I didn’t listen. Instead, I concentrated on willing Ellie to get well. He came back, perched himself on the other side of her bed near the equipment, and checked a printout from one of the machines.
“Now what?” I asked.
“We wait. We watch. We hope,” Kurt replied. “If you pray, that wouldn’t hurt.”
I wasn’t happy with that. I watched Ellie’s face. Her eyes moved under closed lashes.
“The reason she isn’t waking?”
Her eyes flickered, not opening but not fully shut either.
“Trauma to her brain,” Kurt replied.
“Not the first time?” I asked, paying close attention to Ellie as I spoke. One eye closed properly. She was reacting to my voice.
“No.”
“How bad is this, Kurt?”
“Her GCS score is shocking.”
“And that is?”
“Glasgow Coma Scale.”
“Tell me?”
“It’s a score out of fifteen made up from three different criteria. Eye response, verbal response, motor response. In very basic terms, three is wood and anything under eight we intubate.”
“And Ellie?”
“She scored six out of a possible fifteen. If I didn’t know Ellie, if this were a stranger, I’d say we’re looking at severe brain injury and a possible non-recovery situation.”
That seemed like a roundabout way of saying vegetable or death were the only outcomes. That wasn’t helpful thinking. I pushed it away.
“How is Ellie different? This isn’t her first head injury, isn’t that more dangerous?”
“Yes. Medically, I can’t explain why she’s different. It’s Ellie, she just is. She always comes back.”
Kurt seemed convinced she’d be okay. Just as I was going to ask about her chances of full recovery, an alarm sounded. Ellie’s eyes pinged open. Panic flashed across her face. Her eyes shut, the alarm continued. Another doctor and a nurse joined Kurt on the oppo
site side of the bed.
“Her blood pressure is dropping,” the doctor said. “We need to get in there, she’s still bleeding.”
“Now,” Kurt agreed. He moved equipment, the portable equipment now balanced precariously on the gurney. The doctor made a phone call then looked at Kurt and nodded.
“We’re taking her to theater. You scrubbing in?”
“Yes,” Kurt replied.
I leaned down as they unlocked the wheels, kissed Ellie’s cool cheek and lay her hand across her stomach. The dream she’d told me about come flooding back.
“Spleen, upper abdomen?” I asked Kurt.
“Yeah, under the ribs, between the ninth and eleventh ribs on the left-hand side.
Nausea rose in waves as I willed her to be okay.
“Right here. I’m right here,” I said, kissing her again. “Don’t be long.”
Nothing. No reaction. No thoughts. No images.
Words wouldn’t form. Breathing hurt. My chest felt tight, as though my heart was being crushed. No air. An asthma attack without the asthma. The darkness had closed back in.
I watched the gurney leave then turned back to the waiting area and found Simon standing behind me. With his hand on my shoulder, we walked together.
“You all right?” Simon asked as we sat down.
I couldn’t speak. I nodded. Suffocated by the world.
“Shattered,” he replied, looking at me. “You’re not all right.”
I struggled to find words and project them audibly.
“I’ll be fine,” I said, my voice sounding rough even to me. So much emotion. It hurt. “As soon as she wakes up. I’ll be fine.”
She will be fine and I’ll be right there.
“We all will,” Simon replied. “We will all be fine.”
“Where’s Aidan?” It didn’t occur to me before that I hadn’t seen him. My emphasis and energy centered on Ellie.
“I don’t know,” Simon replied his voice low and quiet. “I called him, he knows what’s happened. As for where he is? It’s Aidan. He doesn’t cope well with hospitals.”
I tilted my head and looked at Simon.
“Really?” Unbelievable.
He nodded. “If he shows, he shows.”
I shook my head. Aidan’s attitude made no sense. His sister badly hurt – and he couldn’t get over himself and show up at least to support his dad?
My thoughts roamed until I reined them in and put an end to the speculation. This was all about Ellie. The thoughts became an internal pep talk. Positive reinforcement. She’d be fine. She’d make a full recovery and I would be there every second. Nothing else mattered. The words spun through my mind, repeatedly. She’d be fine.
Every now and then, images followed the mantra. Life-affirming images of Ellie. Laughing. Stretched out on the couch watching a movie. Smiling. Walking next to me through the city. Looking at me over her coffee cup at the Firehook café. Her smile lighting her eyes.
Simon nudged me. Jolting me back to the stark surroundings of the hospital waiting room. He held his phone out to me. “Your mom.”
“How?”
“I called her as soon as Caine told me what had happened.”
I smiled and took the call. “You could’ve rung my phone Mom,” I said.
“Thought it best to talk to Simon first in case you were unable to answer your phone,” Mom said. “Any news?”
“No, but she’ll be fine. She’s tough,” I said, forcing positivity into my words.
“She will be and she is. What about you?” Mom said sending my positivity back to me. “How’s my Mitch?”
“I’m good, thanks. Waiting.”
“Not easy. Do you need anything?”
“No.” I just need Ellie to wake up and be okay. “I don’t need anything, Mom.”
“We’ll be in soon, let me know if you think of anything you need.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
I hung up and gave Simon back his phone. “Mom and Dad are coming over.”
Simon nodded. “I figured they would. Family. This is a time for family.”
Made Aidan’s absence stand out even more.
The main doors to the emergency department opened. Caine walked in, stopped, looked around then walked over to us. He pulled up a chair and sat opposite us.
“News?” he asked.
“Surgery,” Simon replied. “Internal bleeding, they’re repairing her spleen.”
Caine’s mouth set in a straight line. Grim. He looked grim. I wanted to tell him that wouldn’t help but resisted.
“Her phone has been going non-stop this morning. This Voxer thing. I can’t get to grips with it,” Caine said, looking at the phone in his hand.
“Voxer?” I said.
“Yes. She keeps getting messages. I don’t know how to reply or what’s going on.”
I held my hand out. He dropped the phone into it.
I checked her notifications. He was right. Lots of Voxer messages. I touched the first notification and opened the app.
“Ellie was using Voxer to keep an eye on those tourists. She thought someone hacked either the Voxer app they were using or had planted something on the phones that would throw her off,” I said reading the messages. “These are all from the same person. Danni Lane. She’s one of the women, the tourists.”
“Can you reply?” Caine asked.
“Yes, but this is work. I’m not a Fed. I shouldn’t be involved.”
Caine’s mouth twitched. He growled, “You have a higher security clearance than most of my agents.”
“It’s project specific,” I reminded him.
“So this is just another project. Didn’t you use your drone on this?” I nodded. “Then you are part of this case.”
“Okay. What do you want me to say?”
“Let her think you are Ellie, and just answer the messages as best you can.”
“Okay.” I scrolled through the messages and gave Caine an overview, “Danni says they were going to Rosslyn this morning. They wanted to walk M street from Georgetown. So they planned to cross Key Bridge on foot. But they don’t know if they should because of the news and the explosions in the city. Then there is a very recent message saying they heard that an FBI helicopter was shot down in the city.”
“Damn reporters. We’re not convinced the helicopter was shot down, yet. It’s highly probable, but we’re not making statements yet,” Caine said. “Tell her to carry on with their planned route. For whatever reason, Ellie set this up, so let it run. Don’t confirm the helicopter crash.”
Dangerous game.
I replied to Danni and let her know they should carry on with their planned outing. I also suggested they avoid Pennsylvania Avenue near the Hoover Building and the Newseum.
“Okay, done.”
Then it occurred to me that the message had GPS coordinates attached. If Danni tapped the icon she’d know the message was sent from Inova Fairfax.
I glanced at Caine. “She might figure out this is coming from the hospital.”
Caine grimaced. “So be it. Can you take over the communication with these women until Kurt is out of the OR?”
“Yes.”
Could I? Of course. For Ellie? Absolutely.
“Good man,” Caine replied and stood. He returned the chair to its rightful place and spoke briefly to Simon. I heard them discuss Aidan. Caine was about as impressed as I was but unlike me, he wasn’t surprised.
I spoke to Caine before he walked away. “Do you know where Iain Campbell is?”
Caine nodded. Minimalistic at best but still an affirmation. “He’ll be here soon. He’s coordinating the investigation from Homeland’s perspective. You’ll be briefed.”
I’ll be briefed? He knew I’d be involved?
“I’ll be here. He can reach me on Ellie’s cell.”
The corner of Caine’s mouth twitched. “I’ll let him know.”
And he was gone.
I leaned back in the chair, stretching my legs in fron
t of me, and read the rest of the messages on Ellie’s phone. I had something to do, something else to occupy my mind. Piecing together what she’d told me about the case and what I gleaned from her phone, I could see where Ellie was going with the investigation.
She thought the women were being used. That their presence was convenient. I wanted access to her files.
I made a call to Iain Campbell. He answered on the fifth ring. “Ellie?”
“Nope, Mitch. Any way I can access the case files for Operation Visitor?”
“Mitch? You want access?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t give you access to Sentinel but I know Ellie and she kept backups.”
“Can I get them?”
Silence.
“Iain?”
“Thinking. This is not straightforward. This is a complicated ongoing investigation. There are red-tape issues. What’s your clearance again?”
“TS/SCI.”
I heard fingers on a keyboard.
“You’re already attached to this investigation. Yes, you can access the case files but you’ll need access via the master file. Ellie was wearing the files. She always does. Yellow flash band on her wrist.”
“I’ll see if I can find it,” I replied and hung up.
She always wore the yellow band. A smile edged onto my lips. Except in the shower. I held that image close for a few minutes. When I let it go and remembered why we were here it hurt all over again. My chest tightened.
She’ll be okay. Everything will be fine.
I stood up.
“Where you going?” Simon asked
“I need to find her things. The flash band.”
Simon stood too. “I’ll come. My old body doesn’t sit well these days.”
I understood that. I needed to move. Sitting. I don’t do sitting. Not for long anyway.
Restless.
We approached the front desk. Simon asked about patient personal effects. The unhelpful receptionist glared at him and flapped a hand as though she had better things to do, like file her nails or drink her tea.
“Ma’am, this is important. Where would Agent Conway’s personal items be?” I said, leaning over the divider and smiling. I hoped I was smiling; to be honest it felt more like a sneer.
“You’ll have to wait until she is out of surgery,” she replied, I wasn’t much impressed with her tone.
“Where will she be taken after theater?” Different tactic this time, but same smile.