Known Threat

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Known Threat Page 22

by Kara A. McLeod


  “That actually won’t be necessary, Agent O’Connor. Not at this time.”

  Captain Urbina’s expression became even colder, and he took a step back and turned to face the man who’d spoken. “I’m sorry. And you are?”

  “Forgive me,” the man said, not sounding at all apologetic. “Special Agent Eli Haag, FBI.”

  “What is the FBI doing mucking about in my crime scene?” the captain demanded angrily. “How did you even hear about it?”

  Clearly, SA Haag was unmoved. “Actually, the kidnapping of Dr. O’Connor was a violation of federal law, which makes this my crime scene.” He refocused his attention on me. “If you could tell me where your boss is, I’d appreciate it. I’d like to inform him that we’ve officially assumed responsibility for the scene. The federal interim presence of the Secret Service is no longer required.”

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Captain Urbina grumbled. “Look, Agent Haag, the NYPD is responsible for all homicide investigations in the city of New York. That makes this my crime scene. Not yours. And I’d like to question this witness.”

  “Well, Captain, you’re going to have to wait. Agent O’Connor is injured and needs medical attention.” He turned to me again and shot me a look laced with meaning. “Don’t you?”

  I nodded, going along with him. “Yes, sir. I do. I am experiencing some pain. I need to be checked out.”

  Captain Urbina narrowed his eyes at us. He knew as well as I did that I wasn’t required to give a statement right away. I was perfectly within my rights to request to be taken to a hospital and treated for any injuries I might have sustained during the operation. He also knew that as soon as I checked into the ER, the doctors would give me painkillers, and once that happened, he was forbidden to talk to me until after the drugs had worn off. Clearly, he’d been hoping to bully me into talking to him before any of that could take place and was unhappy because SA Haag had thwarted his efforts.

  “Captain Urbina, I’m sure Agent O’Connor will be in touch.”

  He’d been dismissed, and he knew it. Shaking his head, the captain spun around and stalked away.

  Once he was gone, SA Haag nodded at me in that way all agents from all agencies do. “I wasn’t kidding about that hospital visit. I think you both need to go.”

  “We will,” I said. “Don’t worry.”

  “And of course you realize that I’m going to need a statement at some point. Call me when you’ve touched base with your FLEOA rep and are ready to make one. I’m in no hurry.” He handed me his business card.

  I took it with trembling fingers. “Thanks, Agent Haag. I will.”

  “I’ll check in on you later,” he said and waved a hand at the chaotic scene sprawled all around us. “I have work to do.”

  “Give ’em hell.”

  Nodding again in parting, Agent Haag left to resume his duties as incident commander. As he walked away, I recommenced my subtle examination of my sister. Rory was watching Agent Haag thoughtfully, but a deep, soul-crushing anguish lingered behind her eyes. My stomach wrenched, and I didn’t think I could attribute it solely to the metallic taste of blood clinging to the back of my tongue.

  “Rory,” I whispered, craving her eyes on me yet terrified of what would happen once I had them.

  Rory tensed when I said her name, and her whole body froze. She remained staring in the direction Agent Haag had just gone for what felt like hours before her gaze began the long journey over to meet mine. She moved like she was encased in cement. My heart hammered the entire time.

  Allison returned then with two bottles of water and handed one to each of us. I tried to smile at her in gratitude but didn’t manage it very well. My lips formed more of a grimace. I went through several rounds of swish-and-spit, trying to get the taste of blood out of my mouth before I poured some of the cool water on my face. I used the back of the shirt I’d just removed to wipe some of the blood from my skin. Judging by the looks on Allison’s and Rory’s faces, I could only assume that just made things worse.

  I struggled to get to my feet. My legs were shaky and weak, my head spinning. I stumbled into Allison, who caught me.

  “Whoa,” she said. “Take it easy.”

  “I’m okay. Where’s Hurricane?”

  “She’s fine. She’s already been evac’d. An ambulance is on its way for you.”

  “I don’t need an ambulance. I’m fine.”

  My bullshit didn’t reassure Allison. Concern was seared into her features, and she tightened her hold on me. “Can you please just humor me and let them check you out when they get here?”

  I nodded, too tired to argue, and held a hand out to Rory. “Can you stand?”

  Rory winced as she slipped her hand into mine. Allison released me to take Rory’s other hand, and together we managed to help her to her feet. She winced again and clenched her jaw as though trying to bite back a groan. It wasn’t until she shivered that I realized she wasn’t wearing a coat. I was still overheated from all the running and the brawling, but she had to be freezing. I started to search the ground for the sweatshirt I’d discarded earlier, but Allison removed her own jacket and draped it across Rory’s shoulders. Rory flinched again as she drew the material tighter around herself.

  I narrowed my eyes as I examined the way Rory was standing. Something about the way she held herself bothered me, but I couldn’t put my finger on why. As gently as possible, I helped her put her arms into the sleeves of Allison’s coat. Once I was satisfied she was sufficiently bundled up, I took her hand and looped one of her arms across my shoulders, then threaded one of my own around her waist. Allison took up a mirroring position on the opposite side.

  “We should be doing this for you,” Rory murmured into my ear. She looked at least twice as exhausted as I felt.

  “I’m fine,” I said, focused on the way she was limping. She was obviously in some serious pain. I just couldn’t figure out what her specific injuries were. She didn’t appear to be favoring any particular body part, but she was definitely moving gingerly.

  I glanced toward Allison. She held my eyes for only a split second before averting her gaze and staring resolutely forward. Her nostrils flared, and she set her jaw. But she looked more worried than angry, although that darker emotion was present, and I thought I’d caught the barest traces of tears welling in her eyes before she looked away. I had no idea why she would be so upset, but it sparked a tiny fire of unease inside me.

  “Rory, what happened to you?” The question was soft, barely louder than a whisper, and I wasn’t positive she even heard me over the wail of the siren screaming away in the distance.

  The three of us continued our slow trek across the field toward the roadway. Rory hadn’t answered me, hadn’t even acknowledged that I’d spoken, and I faltered, unsure if I should press the issue. She’d just been through an arguably traumatic ordeal. I couldn’t decide whether I thought it’d be more or less productive to try to get her to talk about it sooner rather than later.

  “Rory?” My voice cracked and sounded small as I said her name, but I could tell by the way she’d stiffened in my arms that she’d heard me. “Where are you hurt?”

  “Forget it, Ryan.” Rory’s words were flat and lacked any sort of heat or emotion. Fear, sadness, anger—those I would’ve understood. But this hollowness of tone reverberated loudly inside me and made me sick to my stomach.

  I stopped walking without warning, causing Rory to stumble. And in my fear and impatience, I grabbed her a little harder than I meant to. She hissed in pain, and I felt an immediate and painful stab of remorse.

  I slipped out of her grasp and positioned myself directly in front of her. My heart was racing again, causing my throat to throb with every beat. I swallowed hard and wiped the palms of my hands on the legs of my running pants. Rory still wouldn’t look at me, preferring instead to focus on a spot on the grass just behind me and a little off to my left.

  I frowned at her as I took in her appearance. The limp, messy h
air that tumbled lifelessly down over her shoulders. The dark circles that sat heavily underneath her eyes. The disheveled and dirty clothing that looked like it’d seen the wrong end of a scuffle. The air of defeat she wore around her the way you’d wrap your coat around yourself on a cold, blustery winter day. The small horizontal scratches lining the front of her throat. The faint bruise I saw on her neck peeking out from beneath her collar—

  My eyebrows flew up, and I gasped. I chanced a quick glance at Allison, who was staring at me with watery eyes, looking like she was trying not to cry. My brain refused to dwell on why that would be, and I reached out with trembling fingers to brush Rory’s collar away from her throat so I could take a better look.

  My sister winced and tried to pull back, still keeping her eyes away from mine. I used my other hand to capture the back of her neck to hold her still. Rory’s jaw clenched, and the tears that’d been welling in her eyes finally spilled over and started making slow, lazy tracks down her cheeks. She sniffled and closed her eyes.

  I paused in my inspection long enough to wipe the wetness away with the pad of my thumb. Then I reached for her collar again. My hand was trembling violently now, and the rest of my body joined it. I clenched my own jaw when I realized my teeth were chattering.

  I pulled the collar of her shirt aside only as much as necessary so I could get a good look at Rory’s wound. When I did so, I noticed several other marks below it, all of a similar size and shape. I hesitated, unwilling to admit to myself exactly what they looked like. I leaned in closer and closed my own eyes when I noticed the distinct impression of teeth marring her skin.

  I took a deep, shuddering breath and forced myself to open my eyes. I couldn’t tell if the world felt like it was spinning because I was light-headed or if I was light-headed because the world felt like it was spinning. I only knew it was taking a great deal of effort not to be sick.

  I opened my mouth to ask the question no one should ever need the answer to, but I couldn’t form the words. My mouth refused to cooperate, and my voice had suddenly dried up. I licked my lips, wincing at the faint stab of pain and grimacing at the taste of blood that still lingered before I tried again.

  “Rory.” A cracked, breathy whisper. “Did he—”

  “Don’t.” Rory hissed, her face contorting into something tormented and unrecognizable.

  “But I—”

  “Ryan, please. Don’t ask me. Please, don’t ask me.”

  My heart felt like it was trapped inside of a car crusher. The cracking, splintering sensation I experienced after Rory’s anguished plea reminded me of shattering glass. My lips twisted and trembled.

  I looked back to Allison, who was watching me with a heart-wrenching expression. She’d obviously caught on to the subtle nuances of the situation long before I’d worked them out, and her countenance told me she was having just as much trouble with her feelings on the subject as I was.

  I stood there, dumbfounded, feeling nothing save for the vaguest sensation of disbelief. I could hear the keening of the ambulance drawing closer, and I sort of registered the flashing red-and-blue lights that made Prospect Park feel like some sort of messed-up dance club, but both of those were at a remove.

  “He—”

  Allison shook her head at me in warning, her eyes telling me to shut the hell up. Her grip around Rory’s shoulders tightened, and Rory leaned into her with a sigh, her eyes still closed, tears making languid tracks down her cheeks.

  I frowned then as I tried to muscle my brain into working properly. I narrowed my eyes as I let them slowly drift from Rory’s heartbroken expression to land on Walker’s body lying on the grass in the distance. He was on his back, neck bent at an unnatural angle. The flashes of light that flickered around us allowed me to see a considerable amount of blood drying across his lips and chin, but despite that, his expression was almost peaceful.

  I felt a new cracking sensation inside my chest, only this time it was more like the breaking of foot-thick ice than of glass, and a soul-searing fury overcame me. I ground my teeth together and balled my hands into tight fists as I shook. My nearly overpowering rage was looking for an outlet.

  Scowling, I turned and started across the field, locking my gaze on Walker’s unmoving body. If my glare could’ve started a fire, he wouldn’t have required a funeral. He would’ve combusted on the spot. Not even ashes would’ve been left.

  I clenched my right hand tight around the grip of the pistol I didn’t remember drawing as I stalked ever closer. I was holding it so rigidly, I was sure I’d bear the grooved imprint of it on my palm for a long time to come. But I didn’t care. It didn’t matter. My entire world had narrowed down to a single point. Nothing would come between me and my vengeance.

  “Rico,” I heard Allison shout. She sounded panicked, but, fixated on my revenge, I didn’t bother to turn around to see what the problem was. I might not have been able to undo what Walker had done to my sister, but seeing his brains splatter across the grass and his face disappear inside an unrecognizable pulp of mutilated flesh and bone would go a long way toward making me feel better about it.

  “Whoa there.” Rico stepped in front of me and placed his hands on my shoulders. “Slow down.”

  I used my free hand to knock one of his off me. “Get out of my way, Rico.”

  If my fury fazed Rico at all, he didn’t show it. His face was the picture of calm. His fingertips encircled my biceps just above my elbows, and I glared at him murderously. He didn’t appear to care. The age-old question of what happened when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object came immediately to mind.

  “You can’t do this, Ryan.” He kept his voice low and even, shooting a quick, nervous glance around before capturing my eyes again.

  His expression now was so earnest and concerned, I almost burst into tears. Now that he’d stalled my momentum, other emotions slipped between the cracks in my rage to begin the battle for dominance. Guess I wasn’t as unstoppable as I’d thought.

  “Rico, he…Rory…” I couldn’t even bring myself to say it. I ground my teeth together in frustration.

  Rico’s eyebrows shot up as he took in the implication of my words. I could see the anger leech into his eyes once he’d finally worked out what I hadn’t been able to tell him, but two heartbeats later, it was gone, and his face was once again a perfect mask. I would’ve smirked at him if I wasn’t drowning in a whirlpool of emotions.

  Rico slid his hands down my arms so they rested lightly on my wrists. I knew what he was doing, wanted to fight him even, but I wasn’t sure I had the energy. A tremor ran through my entire body, and it took an effort to stay upright.

  “Listen to me. You can’t do this. I know you want to. Hell, I want to, but you need to stop and think. The momentary satisfaction you’ll feel will not be worth the fallout.”

  I sighed, annoyed and exhausted. He was right. Of course he was. But that did nothing to quell the fire for retaliation burning a hole in the pit of my stomach. For a few long, tense moments, Rico and I just stood there and stared at one another. I was still teetering on the edge of a life-altering decision, and he appeared to be holding his breath, waiting to see what I’d do, positive I’d make the right choice.

  “The squeeze isn’t worth the juice?” The corners of my mouth tried to turn up as I tossed our oft-uttered adage at him.

  His expression softened, and he managed a more convincing smile. “Exactly.”

  “Okay.”

  We stood there for another few moments before I felt the fingers of his left hand close around my right. He searched my eyes as though looking for permission, and when I nodded, he carefully eased the gun from my hand. Once he had it, he glanced around to see whether anyone was paying attention to us. Outside of Rory and Allison, nobody was.

  “You were just coming to find me to give me your gun before you went to the hospital, understand?”

  I nodded again and clenched and unclenched the fingers of my right hand a few times, trying to re
lieve the ache that’d settled there from holding the gun too tightly. “Of course I was. What else would I have been doing?”

  “Good.” He took a moment to unload the weapon before tucking it into the waistband of his pants. Then he shifted so he was standing next to me, and both of us were facing Walker. “You got your shots in. I know it wasn’t quite what you wanted, but you made him bleed. That has to count for something.”

  “Not nearly enough,” I said softly. I turned back to where Rory and Allison were watching us. Behind them, I could see the ambulance pulling off the path and onto the grass of the field. “Thanks, Rico.”

  “Anytime,” he said.

  Without looking at him, I squeezed his hand, hoping the gesture alone was enough to convey everything I couldn’t say.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Rory was silent all the way to the hospital. We might have been sitting side by side on the edge of the gurney in the back of the ambulance, but between her refusal to speak and the haunted look in her eyes as she stared at the far side of the rig, I felt like she was somewhere else.

  I’d thought—hoped? prayed?—that she’d snap out of it once the paramedics had escorted us into the ER and we had forms to fill out and questions to answer, but I was once again disappointed. She didn’t appear invested in the check-in process, so I filled out her paperwork and answered the questions for her as best I could while trying to pretend I wasn’t dying inside.

  Fortunately, the agency was on a first-name basis with the head of the Trauma Department at the hospital, and someone had called ahead to let him know we were coming. He’d met us in the ER just as I was finishing our forms and had us escorted to a private room, away from prying eyes and the hustle and bustle of regular, day-to-day hospital life. I was grateful for that courtesy. I had no doubt the press would catch wind of this all too soon for my liking, and the last thing I needed was a dozen reporters asking questions.

  Rory broke her self-imposed vow of silence just long enough to tell her treating physician exactly what dosage of medication she required—a request I was surprised he went along with—and then she lapsed back into it until the drugs kicked in and she drifted off to sleep.

 

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