Lockdown

by Traci Hunter Abramson

  He glanced at his watch and figured he still had plenty of time before everyone would be getting back from lunch. Rather than head for Sedgely Hall, he turned toward the parking lot. Maybe a little more time outside would help him find some answers.

  * * *

  As Tristan neared the shooting range, he saw that the parking lot was crowded with emergency vehicles. Besides Oscar’s truck, an ambulance and two police cars were parked haphazardly next to the other vehicle in the lot. Tristan’s heart froze when he got close enough to recognize the car. He stepped on the gas and barely slowed down when he turned into the lot.

  He skidded to a stop next to a police car, threw his door open, and started toward Riley’s car at a dead run. Someone shouted at him, but he didn’t hear. He saw the lifeless body a few yards away, but he didn’t slow down. Then she was in front of him, lying limply on the ground as a paramedic took her vital signs. Her face was too pale, but his relief was instant when he saw that she was still breathing, even though those breaths were coming much too slowly.

  “What happened?” Tristan demanded as he gripped Riley’s hand.

  “It looks like she’s been drugged.” The paramedic nodded to the syringe lying on the ground a short distance away.

  He tried to squelch his rising panic and kept his voice soothing as his eyes met Riley’s. “Don’t worry, honey. I’m right here.”

  “Cross,” she whispered, struggling to form the word.

  “What?” Tristan fought to understand even as the paramedic placed an ambu bag over her nose and mouth to help her breathe.

  Riley opened her mouth, but her strength was fading. Slowly, her eyes closed and she sank into unconsciousness.

  * * *

  Tristan stood in the waiting room, staring out the window into the twilight. He had insisted on riding with Riley in the ambulance and had taken the opportunity to give her a blessing while they were en route to the hospital. That had been hours ago, and he couldn’t seem to remember the words he had said. What he could remember was an overwhelming sense of anxiety and panic as they rushed those few miles to the hospital.

  When the ambulance had arrived outside the emergency room, he had been pushed aside by the doctor who rushed out to meet them. Tristan had followed them inside as another doctor and two nurses joined forces to try to save Riley. Tristan didn’t have to be told that she was fighting for her life. He could see it in her face, as well as the faces of those trying to help her. One of the paramedics had kept Tristan from following after her, insisting that he had to trust the doctors to do their jobs.

  Tristan closed his eyes as he remembered the last time he’d seen her. She had been so pale, so helpless, when they’d taken her away from him. He closed his eyes against the tears that threatened. He couldn’t lose her. He just couldn’t. Life without her was beyond his imagination, and he prayed he would never be able to visualize it.

  His prayers had been constant since the moment he’d seen her car and fear had gripped his heart. He could barely function, all of his responsibilities forgotten as he could think of nothing but Riley. He didn’t think about the training scenario he was supposed to participate in. The thought of calling his commanding officer didn’t even cross his mind, nor did he worry that he was out of reach since he’d had to turn off his cell phone while inside the hospital.

  Quinn arrived first. Tristan didn’t ask how he’d found him or how much he knew. He just continued to stare out the window.

  Quinn put a hand on Tristan’s shoulder and asked, “Have you heard anything yet?”

  Tristan shook his head, unable to form any words. Moments later the attending physician entered the waiting room.

  He scanned the room before zeroing in on Tristan. “Are you the one who came in with Riley Palmetta?”

  Tristan nodded, trying to read the doctor’s blank expression.

  “I’m afraid I can’t tell you much except that she’s still alive and that we’re fighting to keep her that way.” The doctor let out a sigh before continuing. “She’s being moved up to ICU, but she is still in critical condition. She was given a high dose of morphine sulfate, and her respiratory system is still struggling to overcome the effects of the drug.”

  “How long until we’ll know?” Tristan managed to ask.

  “At least a few more hours,” he told them. “I suggest you go home and get some sleep.”

  “I’m staying here,” Tristan insisted. “Can I see her?”

  “Even in the best-case scenario, she’s not likely to regain consciousness for some time.”

  “Please.” The single word was laced with desperation.

  The doctor hesitated and then let out a sigh. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Tristan nodded, not trusting himself to speak any further. As the doctor disappeared back through the door, Tristan lowered himself into a chair and let out a shaky breath. She was still alive. There was still a chance—

  His mind stopped suddenly as it tried to catch up with his heart. Then the thought continued, complete and whole. There was still a chance for forever. His concern that she would move away from him, that their futures would take separate paths, faded. The answer leapt to his mind with unexpected clarity. The problem could be solved, together. If they relied on the Lord, they could find the solutions his parents had never sought for themselves.

  Tristan rubbed his hands over his face as he considered the possibilities. Life with Riley, a career he loved, somehow supporting her in whatever path she chose, children together. The path could be endless . . . as long as she lived. Without her, the future was a blank page he had no interest in writing on. She had to live, he thought to himself, his pleading prayers repeating in his mind.

  The presence of the rest of his squad interrupted his prayers and pulled him back to the present. The waiting room had been almost empty when he had arrived hours earlier, but now nearly every chair was occupied. A few seats down, a frazzled mother tried to calm a screaming baby. The man across from him held a bandage to a gash in his forearm. It didn’t occur to Tristan that the emergency room was getting backed up because of the number of people working on Riley.

  “How is she?” Kel asked as he reached the corner of the waiting room by the window.

  Quinn looked down at Tristan and then answered for him. “The doctor said it’s going to be a while before they know. She’s being moved to ICU, but she’s still listed as critical.”

  Kel shook his head, bewildered. Chief Jobeson had called to let them know about Riley during their training exercise that afternoon. Amy had taken the call and had been given only the most basic details. “I still don’t understand what happened. What was Riley doing there with Dr. Walberg?”

  Tristan shook his head. He thought of the parking lot that afternoon and of the location of the vehicles when he arrived. His gaze sharpened as the fog in his brain started to clear. “Something’s not right.”

  “What do you mean?” Quinn asked.

  “Someone else must have been there. Besides the cop cars, the only vehicles in the parking lot were Oscar’s and Riley’s. How did the doctor get there?”

  “Maybe he came with Riley. He used to be her doctor. She trusted him.”

  “I don’t think so. She mentioned before that she wasn’t comfortable around him. That’s why she stopped going to him for counseling.” Tristan stood and paced to the window. He let his memory expand to where Dr. Walberg’s lifeless body was sprawled on the gravel, the pool of blood beside his head. He turned back to face his squad. “Not only that, but Walberg was shot in the head. That’s not the kind of shot Riley would take.”

  “Tristan, there’s no way to be sure about that,” Kel said gently.

  “Kel, I’ve gone shooting with her dozens of times. She prefers to use the bull’s-eye, but the few times I’ve seen her shoot at a body image, she’s always gone for the heart.” Tristan rolled his shoulders, noticing for the first time the tension that had settled there.

  “You know, he
’s right,” Quinn said now. “If Riley shot him, how did she get the drugs in her system? Once she was drugged, she probably wouldn’t have been able to shoot. At least not with any accuracy.”

  Amy’s voice carried over the cries of a nearby baby. “But why would anyone want to hurt Riley?”

  Before anyone could speculate, a nurse arrived to show Tristan where Riley had been moved. The team walked through the quiet hospital corridors and followed the nurse into the empty waiting room reserved for the family and friends of patients in intensive care. The doctor emerged from the hallway by the nurses’ station and approached Tristan.

  “We’re getting her settled, but it’s going to be about half an hour before I can let you see her.” The doctor motioned to the door. “Why don’t you go get something to eat while you have the chance? It’s going to be a long night.”

  Though he had no intention of leaving, Tristan nodded. As the doctor was leaving, Chief Jobeson walked into the waiting room.

  “I was hoping I would find you here.” The chief studied the concerned faces and then said, “I need your help.”

  “Go on,” Kel prodded.

  “I’m convinced that what happened at the shooting range is directly linked to Eric Rhodes. Philip Walberg had access to the boy and possibly could have gained his trust enough to influence his actions.”

  “But why?” Amy asked.

  “We took a look at his bank accounts. The guy consistently earned six figures every year, but he was broke. He even borrowed against his retirement account a couple of weeks ago.” The chief shifted his weight. “The Rhodes family, on the other hand, was rolling in money.”

  “Do you think Walberg was being blackmailed by Rhodes?” Brent asked. “A schoolteacher doesn’t make much.”

  “It’s a possibility, but I have other suspicions.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before continuing. “Several years ago, an illegal gambling ring started up here in Bainbridge in an old warehouse. We set up a sting operation, but when we got there, the place was empty. Someone had tipped them off that we were coming, and they moved their location. That happened three times before this traveling casino dropped off of our radar.

  “I know there are some people in my department who think it disappeared for good, but I think it’s still out there somewhere. In fact, I think that’s where Dr. Walberg was spending his money,” Jobeson told them.

  “And you think Rhodes was the man behind it?” Brent asked.

  “It’s possible. He was one of the owners of a local club here in town called Crossroads.”

  Kel looked at him, puzzled. “You said you need our help.”

  “I want to run another sting operation—tonight, if possible—but I need people I can trust.” Jobeson hesitated a moment before adding, “I’ve had my suspicions for a few days about how the floating casino always seemed to know out about our plans. The other owner of Crossroads is one of my detectives, Victor Cross.”

  “Cross.” Tristan’s eyes narrowed, every nerve in his body suddenly alert. “That’s what Riley said right before she lost consciousness.”

  “Are you sure?” the chief asked anxiously.

  Tristan nodded, his eyes staying on the chief as the pieces of the puzzle started falling into place. “Cross and Walberg must have been worried that Riley had figured out they were involved.”

  “How do you want to handle this?” Kel asked as he clicked into work mode. “We don’t have any jurisdiction over something like this.”

  “I’ve got a couple of ideas. I stopped by the county offices and picked up the architectural drawings of the club. They’re out in my car. If you don’t mind, I’d like to use your office to plan this out. I don’t want to take a chance that any more of my men might be involved.”

  Tristan frowned. “I want to come too, but I don’t want Riley left alone.”

  “I’ll stay with her,” Amy volunteered.

  “And I’ll go find Taylor,” Quinn offered. “The nurse said she didn’t pick up her phone when they called to notify her that Riley was here.”

  “Do you know where she is?”

  “She’s probably at the gym. She doesn’t keep her phone with her when she’s working out.”

  “Bring your spare gun for Amy when you come back,” Tristan said, shocking the room into silence. He turned to the chief. “I want Taylor and Amy to know exactly which doctors and nurses are authorized to be in Riley’s room. No one else gets in.”

  Before the chief could respond, Dr. Zimmerman appeared from the hallway. “Who is here with Miss Palmetta?”

  “We all are,” Kel answered and moved forward. “How is she?”

  “We have her on a respirator, and we’ve given her something to try to counteract the drugs in her system.” His face remained somber. “At this point, only time will tell.”

  “Can I see her?” Tristan’s voice was both weary and persistent.

  “Just one of you at a time.” The doctor motioned to the nurse who was standing a short distance away. “She’ll show you to her room.”

  Tristan took a step down the hall before turning back to Kel. “Don’t go without me,” he pleaded. “Kel, promise me you’ll let me come.”

  Kel hesitated and then gave a brief nod. “We’ll be back for you in a couple of hours.”

  Momentarily satisfied, Tristan followed the nurse down the hall.

  31

  The hospital room was brightly lit, and machines were beeping and humming everywhere. Riley lay in the center of everything, her skin nearly as pale as the stark white sheets beneath her. Tristan had pulled a chair to the side of the bed, and he sat with one hand holding hers, the other rubbing it as though trying to warm her up.

  It was now completely dark outside, but Tristan remained unaware of how much time had passed. The room was windowless, but it wouldn’t have mattered. His focus didn’t waiver. For hours he had stared at Riley, looking away only occasionally to study the machines whirring beside her. The respirator continued to breathe for her, the beeping sound keeping time with her heartbeat.

  He liked to think her pulse was getting stronger, but he didn’t know enough about such things to be sure. All he knew was that she hadn’t moved since he’d arrived, and her hands felt like ice despite the three blankets covering her. More than once over the past several hours he had slid down onto his knees to beg his Heavenly Father to spare her life.

  He thought back to his concern when Riley had insisted on speaking with Eric Rhodes. He had been worried about her mental well-being at the time, but he had never considered that her life might be threatened because of her quest for understanding. He chastised himself for not preventing her from becoming involved, even though he knew he couldn’t have stopped her.

  If he hadn’t recognized that Eric Rhodes was still reachable back at the school, none of this would have even started. He could only assume that the Spirit had helped him through that ordeal. Otherwise, his training would have demanded that he neutralize the threat permanently. Then Eric Rhodes wouldn’t have been alive for Riley to talk to in the first place. If he had killed the boy . . .

  Understanding flashed through him like a bolt of lightening. That had been the plan. Victor Cross had come to watch the training exercise at the high school, a scenario that had been designed to teach the participants to neutralize a gunman who was beyond reason. He hadn’t been there just out of curiosity. Rather, he had come to make sure his plan would work. He knew that the police chief would call in the SEALs one way or another if Eric was pushed to the breaking point. Cross might have even been prepared to suggest that course of action himself.

  His plan had almost worked. Eric hadn’t almost died by “suicide by cop” but rather by homicide by cop. Cross had put Eric in a position that would almost guarantee that a policeman or SEAL would kill him rather than take the chance to negotiate. Cross had had no idea that the Saint Squad would be inspired to spare Eric Rhodes’s life.

  Anger coursed through Tristan as h
e realized how many lives had been manipulated. He knew Riley might not survive the night, and his fury wrapped around his doubts and fears until there was nothing left but a shimmering violence.

  “Tristan.” Quinn’s voice cut through his thoughts. “It’s time.”

  Tristan nodded, his eyes still on Riley. Please let her live, he prayed silently as he lifted her hand to his lips. He moved to the door, stopping to embrace Taylor as she reached for him, her eyes swollen with tears. There were no words spoken. Instead, Tristan cast one last look at Riley as Taylor took his place by her bed, and then he turned to follow Quinn down the hall.

  “Hospital security has been advised not to let anyone into the ICU except those on an approved list,” Quinn told Tristan as they moved through the waiting room, where Amy was stationed just outside the door, holding a cordless hospital phone. “Amy is armed just in case anyone gets through security.”

  “Be careful,” Amy cautioned as Tristan hesitated beside her.

  “You too.”

  Amy just nodded as the two men started down the hallway and the Lord was bombarded with silent prayers.

  * * *

  Victor Cross looked around the room and smiled. Business was booming, money was flowing freely in the casino, and the profits were all his. His setup was perfect. As a police officer, he would find out immediately if anyone had any suspicions of gambling in the Bainbridge area. His patrons wouldn’t dream of turning him in. Not only would they be admitting their own guilt, but he had also instilled a healthy dose of fear in all of them.

  The club made a good front, and his decision to hide the casino in what had once been an interior storage room kept suspicions down. The bright lights weren’t visible from the street, and the only access to the outside was through the single door—which was well guarded—and a secret panel that led from his office into the kitchen.

  The few times his colleagues had decided to pay a visit to the club, he had simply urged a few of his clients to mingle in the bar so that the number of patrons would match the number of cars in the parking lot. To anyone watching, it looked like they were just returning from the restroom. As for him, he used the secret panel so that it seemed like he spent most of his time in the kitchen.