by CJ Lyons
Chapter 41
Monday, 2:22 am
Burroughs reached the busted door to the labs just as he heard the gunshot. He gulped in a lungful of air and ran as fast as he could. Callahan was pulling a young girl, not Ashley, out through a steel door leading into the main lab.
"Lucy's still in there," he gasped.
"And Ashley," the girl cried, struggling in her father's arms to return to the hallway.
"Go," Burroughs told him, raising his gun. He stepped into the hallway, surprised to see Lucy and Fletcher standing in front of an open refrigerator, Ashley holding a gun on them.
Fletcher was bleeding from one leg, Guardino holding him up, one hand wrapped around his hand with the deadman's switch. Her other arm had him in a choke hold. His face was dusky purple and he was slumped in her grasp. His gun lay on the floor, beyond Guardino's reach even if she didn't have her hands full.
"Get her out of here," Guardino shouted.
He stepped forward and Ashley whirled, aiming the weapon at him. Her face was blank as if she didn't know what was real and thought this was all just some kind of crazy game.
He froze, lowering his weapon to his side. "Drop the gun, Ashley. I don’t want to hurt you."
"No." A frown twisted her features, making her look younger, a baby really. "I don't—I can't."
"Yes," Guardino said in a low, calm voice. A voice only a mother could produce, soothing and commanding simultaneously. "Yes, you can. Ashley, a lot of people have lied to you, have tried to trick you, but I'm telling you the truth. You need to trust me, Ashley. Can you do that? Trust me?"
Ashley slowly turned, locking eyes with Guardino. Guardino nodded slowly and Ashley mirrored the movement. "Good girl. Now Ashley, you need to put down the gun and go with Detective Burroughs."
"But—no. He, what he did…" Her voice died away, but her intent was clear as she aimed the gun at Fletcher.
"I know what he did. I was there, in the barn. I saw the snakes, smelled the stench. I was there, Ashley."
"You were?" The gun didn't waver.
Burroughs shuffled forward, stopping when Guardino gave him a small shake of her head.
"I was. I wish I had gotten there sooner, I would have saved you."
"That's what he said he did. He lied."
"He did. And he's going to pay for that. But you have to trust me, Ashley. Leave it to me. You were a very brave girl, there alone in the dark with those snakes. Very, very brave. I need you to be brave for just a few more minutes. Do you trust me, Ashley?"
Guardino's hypnotic tone could have charmed a cobra into tying itself into a knot. Burroughs felt his own head nod in time with Ashley's.
"I trust you." The words were halting, but finally Ashley's aim wavered.
"Good. Now. Put the gun on the floor and let Detective Burroughs get you out of here. Close the door behind you. On the count of three. Are you ready?"
Guardino's grip was weakening. Fletcher took a breath, color returning to his face. He immediately began to attack the hand that Guardino held over the deadman's switch.
"One, two, three," she shouted in a rush just as Fletcher was about to claw his way free of her grasp.
"No, Ashley," Fletcher screamed. "I love you! Don't go!"
The gun clattered to the ground just as Burroughs grabbed Ashley and hauled her back through the steel door.
As soon as Lucy saw Burroughs get Ashley to safety, she stopped fighting. An eerie sense of calm came over her, time moving in slow motion as if the world around her had become a movie and she was predestined to act out her role.
"No!" Fletcher cried as Ashley disappeared. He whirled on Lucy. "You did this! It's all your fault!"
Lucy didn't answer. Instead she launched her free hand up to grab his chin, yanking his head around to face the refrigerator. Pivoting her weight, she propelled him into the opening, releasing the hand with the deadman's switch at the last possible moment.
His momentum carried her inside with him. The door began to swing shut. She gave Fletcher one last shove to send him reeling against the far wall. She escaped out through the heavy door just as it clanked closed.
She started to run, thought she was running, but instead found herself flying through the air, arms and legs flailing as the building rocked with the blast.
She landed in a heap against the far wall. The lights flickered—or her vision did. Then everything was bright and sparkly as dust flit through the air.
Lucy hacked and coughed, threatening to tear her stitches. Finally she got enough strength to look up. The refrigerator door was slightly ajar, hanging crooked, weird reddish-brown smoke wisping through the opening. A few of the overhead fluorescent bulbs had shattered. Tiles had been knocked from the walls, giving them a crazy checkerboard appearance.
The door beside her slammed open and Nick appeared, followed by Ashley and Megan. To her surprise it was Ashley who reached her first, flinging herself at Lucy and clutching her as if she'd never let go.
Then Megan and Nick followed until her vision was blinded by their warm and wonderfully whole bodies.
"C'mon, Burroughs," Cindy said, grinding her hip against his after the medics cleared him, "I'll make you a star."
Burroughs looked at her with contempt and limped away. He joined Guardino and her family at the far end of the lab. Ashley had collapsed, refusing to leave Guardino's side, so the docs had sedated her and taken her back upstairs. Guardino looked like the walking wounded left at the end of a war movie—blood smearing her face and shirt, one arm out of commission, leaning heavily against her husband.
"Don't you ever do anything like that again," Callahan was saying, his arms wrapped around both his daughter and wife. "Promise."
In response, Guardino kissed him. It was a fairly tame kiss, no tongue or anything, but it packed enough power to make Burroughs' stomach clench. When they parted, both Callahan's and Guardino's faces were streaked with tears. Neither seemed to care.
Guardino's eyes were wide with the after-effects of adrenalin, her cheeks flushed, giving her a radiant glow. She smiled, her gaze never leaving Callahan's, her body aligned with his as if they were one.
"You don't have to worry about me," she told Callahan, one finger smoothing his tears.
"Yeah, Dad," Megan chimed in. "Mom was totally the coolest, most awesome, kick ass—"
"Megan Constance Callahan," Guardino interrupted, "watch your language."
Megan clapped her hand against her mouth, obviously also jazzed with adrenalin. "I can't wait to tell the kids at school," she said, pride shining in her eyes.
Burroughs had to turn away. His eyes burned, he swiped them with his thumb, telling himself it was the smoke that made them water. But he couldn't help but wonder if maybe the reason he'd fallen so hard for Guardino had nothing to do with lust or hormones or a midlife crisis.
Maybe she had everything he wanted. Everything he needed. The way her husband and kid looked at her….
She finally noticed him standing behind Callahan and aimed a smile in his direction. "Have you two met?" she asked, indicating Callahan. "Nick, this is Don Burroughs, he's a detective with the Major Crimes squad."
"Nice to meet you," Callahan said, extending a hand. They shook with a firm grip.
"Just wanted to make sure you were good to go," Burroughs mumbled, wishing he could hide the flush he felt on his face. "Before I leave."
He walked away, yanking his cell phone out and hitting the speed dial. "Kim? Yeah, sorry, I know it's late. Listen, can I come over, spend some time with the boys later today? I really need to see them."
Chapter 42
Monday, 12:11 pm
Lucy woke feeling seasick, the bed bouncing as if riding over waves. Was she on a boat? She hated boats. Why on earth would she be sleeping on a boat?
The bed jostled more as a girl's gleeful laughter swam through her consciousness. Megan.
Lucy forced her eyes open. The left would only go to a slit and the right she immediately clo
sed again as bright sunlight stabbed through it. But it had been long enough for her to see Megan perched on the edge of the bed, bouncing eagerly as she and Nick fought abominable ice men.
"Hah! Take that." Megan's voice was strong, brimming with enthusiasm and the sound of it brought tears to Lucy's eyes. Good tears. Happy tears. "No way are we going to be zombie meat!"
"Inside voice, please. You're going to wake your mother."
"Nah, she's already awake. She's just resting."
Lucy couldn't stop her smile. She lurched upright, stretching her good arm out in a fair imitation of a mutant zombie and grabbed Megan.
She squeezed Megan, kissed her on the top of the head and released her, slumping back just as Nick elevated the head of the bed to support her. Ouch. Sitting up that fast had unleashed a headache and several wicked aches and pains, but it was worth it to see Megan's bright smile. Such contrast to the scared and worried look she had had last night when they pulled Lucy from the debris.
"Mom, you look like the bride of Frankenstein!"
"Guess that makes you Frankenstein's daughter, heheheh." She mussed up Megan's hair, standing it on end.
"Mom," came the familiar two-syllable whine.
Nick cleared his throat. "Why don't you reset the game while I help your mom get cleaned up?"
"I'd love to have a shower."
"You're not allowed," Megan told her in a stern voice. "They said only sponge baths. Until your stitches are out."
Nick lowered the bedrail and helped Lucy maneuver her stiff and aching body out of bed. "That's where I come in," he said with a lecherous grin, wagging one eyebrow. He pulled her to her feet. A wave of dizziness washed over her but Nick held her steady. Before letting her go, he kissed her thoroughly. "Good morning, Lulu."
"It's afternoon, you know," Megan put in.
When Nick ignored her and gave Lucy a loud smooch, Megan giggled. That sound, so innocent and free, one that Lucy hadn't heard in months, was enough to erase all her pain.
Nick pulled away far enough to guide Lucy into the bathroom, one hand on the small of her back.
Lucy propped herself against the counter top while Nick carefully combed no-rinse shampoo through her tangled hair, taking the opportunity to nuzzle her neck. She had some fresh staples in her scalp, thanks to one of the ER docs, a black eye almost swollen shut, a broken collarbone, assorted scrapes and bruises, and a mild concussion to add to her litany of injuries.
Which basically meant she was alive and had no right to complain—not with Melissa Yeager lying dead in the county morgue.
"Any word on Ashley?"
"They stopped the sedation, but she's uncommunicative. Not quite catatonic, but also not responding to much of anything. She tried to cut herself so they had to restrain her."
Lucy sighed. Ashley had been through so much already.
"It's going to take time." Nick finished with her hair and began to help her out of her clothing, handing her a towel so she wouldn't get a chill. She loved the gentle way his touch soothed her pain, hands gliding over her skin as he washed her as if she were a newborn. It felt good to have someone she trusted so implicitly that she could relinquish all control to him.
"What's going to happen to her?"
He paused, holding a dripping washcloth over the sink. "Depends. Right now she's lost. What her parents started, Fletcher finished—they stripped her of her identity."
"Maybe I should call Taylor, tell him to hold off—" Lucy was surprised by how easily she grabbed onto any excuse not to face Ashley. It was as if she couldn't admit that she'd failed the girl, hadn't really saved her after all.
"No. I had a long talk with her doctors and father. They agree that it can't hurt and it might help."
"What did the doctors say about Megan's tests?" The way Megan's color and energy had returned, she figured it was just a formality. The doctors had to be right about the cat scratch.
But Nick frowned. "Said they had to review them, that the specialist would let us know."
She didn't like the sound of that. "Then I'd better wait here. Let Taylor and Walden handle Ashley."
"I'll call you if the doctors come. You're only two doors away. Go, take care of Ashley."
She jerked her chin up at the tone of command in his voice. "You were the one accusing me of neglecting Megan. Said I was in denial, thinking that by saving Ashley I could guarantee Megan's safety."
"You did save Ashley. And you were here for Megan. Now you need to do this for yourself. Finish it. And," he said with a hint of a smile, "I have a feeling your instincts were right on target. It was a good idea, arranging for Bobby Fegley to come here, meet Ashley in person."
"Some instincts. I actually liked Fletcher—well, in an irritating puppy dog kind of way."
"Speaking of puppy dogs—" He guided Lucy's bad arm into the sling.
She stared at him, aghast. "You didn't."
"Megan thought Boots needed company."
"Nick. No. Look at our schedules—" She stopped herself. What was she saying? After the Office of Professional Responsibility finished with her, she'd be lucky getting a job writing parking tickets.
"John Greally came by," he said, reading her mind as always. "Said not to wake you."
She grimaced. "I'll bet he wasn't too happy."
"He was happy—that you're alive. Not so much about the bureaucratic mess. Something about a public commendation and an official reprimand? Sounds like an oxymoron to me. And a warning that you'd better stay under the radar for a good long while."
The concussion must have made her brain fuzzy. "Are you saying I still have a job?"
"Yep. But you have to play nice, dress up for some fancy ceremony the Mayor is hosting. Giving you and Burroughs the keys to the city or shiny pieces of tin or some such thing."
Lucy started to laugh, cut it short when pain sliced through her back and chest and shoulder. "Leave it to Greally. God help us all if he ever decides to go into politics."
There was a knock on the door. Nick opened it. Megan stood there, connected to her IV pole with its antibiotic hanging in a clear plastic bag. "Mom, there's some people here."
Lucy glanced in the mirror. No sense scaring Bobby and Ashley with her looks. Nick had done a decent job of cleaning her up. The crisp, white t-shirt hid most of the damage and the sling took care of the rest. Except for the shiner. Not much she could do about that. Nick wrapped an arm around her waist and they stepped out together.
Megan surprised her by giving her an impetuous bear hug. "I'm so glad you're all right, Mom." She bounced on her tiptoes and gave Lucy a quick kiss. "Love you, Lucy-boo."
Lucy squeezed back. "Love you too, sugar-lou."
Over Megan's head she saw Taylor and Walden watching them, neither masking the grins on their faces. Beside them was Bobby Fegley, a man wearing a nursing uniform standing behind his wheelchair.
"Bobby," she said, regretfully parting from Megan, "thanks for doing this. I know how hard it is—"
"Nonsense," the nurse said. "I've been trying to get him out of that house for months. Do him good to get away from his computer and into the real world instead of a virtual one."
Bobby scrunched up his face, making it obvious that he didn't agree with his nurse's view of the world at large. Lucy could understand why. In Bobby's world, he could remain in control, even play God, escaping his physical handicaps.
"I think it will mean a lot to Ashley. Meeting you in person."
"Taylor said that man, the one who took her, he told her he was me? Won't she," he paused, wiping his face against the towel that lined his neck support, "won't she hate me?"
"You helped save her life. I think once she sees that you really were her friend, liked her for who she was, not the characters she pretended to be, it might help her." Lucy glanced at Nick for confirmation. He nodded his agreement. "You're all she has."
Bobby gave that skewed one shouldered shrug of his. "All right, then."
Nick stayed with Megan whil
e Lucy and the others moved down the hall to Ashley's room. Bobby stopped outside the door where her doctor waited for them.
"So this is the young man?" he said, crouching down so that Bobby didn't have to strain to look up at him. "Nice to meet you. Don't be too scared by what you see. We have her in soft restraints to keep her from hurting herself, and even though the sedation has worn off, she hasn't said much, so don't be surprised if she doesn't want to chat."
Bobby nodded. "Lucy, you're coming, too?"
"She did ask for you," the doctor told Lucy as he opened the door.
Lucy let Bobby go first, telling herself it was to give him room to maneuver his wheelchair but knowing in her gut it was cowardice. Then she took a deep breath and followed. The doctor left the door open and waited with the others in the hall, within hearing distance.
Ashley lay still, her dark hair fanned out on the pillow beneath her. She looked like Sleeping Beauty or Snow White, waiting for the prince's kiss. Except for the fact that her wrists were bound by soft felt restraints, there was an angry row of fresh cuts on the inside of her left forearm, and her eyes stared straight ahead without blinking.
"Ashley?" The wheelchair whirled as Bobby steered it beside her bed, facing her. "I'm Bobby. Draco." No response. He looked to Lucy, his expression as close to tears as you could get without crying. "I'm here, Ashley. And so is Lucy. She saved you, remember?"
Lucy took her cue and approached, standing behind Bobby's chair, in Ashley's line of sight if she ever cared to look. "We saved you. Bobby was a huge help. He's the real Bobby—not the man who took you. That man lied to you."
Silence. What else could she say? How to coax this girl who had been through so much, lost so much, back to a life where she faced more pain?
"I brought you something," Bobby said. He nodded to the bag that hung from the side of his chair. Lucy reached into it and found two of Ashley's drawings: the one of Draco and the one of the ethereal character, Angel. "Your sketches. Of course, now that you see the real me, you'll probably want to re-do the one of Draco. But it sure was nice to think that someone could imagine me that way, a real hero."