by Rowe, Julie
“What did this friend say?”
Blackwater crossed his arms over his chest and puffed himself up. “You weren’t anything special, like you tell everyone. You were just an army grunt.”
“Nope. Engineering Sergeant,” Smoke corrected. “Special Forces.”
“Special Forces?” Blackwater snorted a laugh. “Your record says you’re not a team player. You and a few of your buddies went AWOL a couple of years ago, assaulted several other soldiers, and stole a helicopter. Your record says you got an honorable discharge, but the truth is, trouble follows you around like a bad penny. Mental health issues finally resulted in your departure from the military.”
“Colorful,” Smoke said, his expression not changing at all. “Untrue, but colorful.”
“Hmm, who should I believe?” Blackwater asked in a mocking voice. “A meathead who enjoys blowing shit up, or a friend of my boss’s who’s one of the smartest men I’ve ever met?”
Smoke shook his head. “He’s given you some bad intel.”
Blackwater’s smile got wider. “How so?”
“The only things not classified on my record in the last six years are my medals and my honorable discharge. Everything else—deployments, training, missions—won’t appear on anything official for at least a couple of decades, if ever.”
“Where,” Blackwater growled, “is your AR15?”
Smoke didn’t reply.
Kini didn’t blame him. The deputy had already made up his mind, and if Kini had to bet, nothing but a court order was going to change it.
“What is going on out here?” Susan yelled from inside the house.
“A murder investigation,” Blackwater yelled back. He reached behind himself and pulled out a set of handcuffs.
He was arresting Smoke?
“How did those deputies die?” Kini asked, injecting confusion and concern into her voice. “Were they both shot? Who found them, and where were they found?”
Smoke shifted on his feet while Blackwater paused with the handcuffs in his hands.
“They were shot outside of their vehicle on the I-15 thirty miles northeast of here just after 4:00 a.m. It looked like a traffic stop gone bad.”
“Were they the men assigned to check out the farm?”
“Yes.” Blackwater’s lips were curled up with disgust. “And your coworker is my number one suspect.”
“Call the United States Army Special Operations Command in Fort Bragg,” Smoke said, all evidence of sarcasm gone from his tone. “Neither of us has time for bullshit.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m not your shooter, but someone wants you to think I am, which means there’s more to this than we’re seeing.”
“Like some kind of conspiracy theory? Why the fuck would anyone go to that much trouble?”
“That’s the real question, isn’t it?”
Blackwater seemed to consider Smoke’s words, then his face hardened and Kini knew he’d disregarded it all.
“You’re under arrest on suspicion of murder. Turn around and put your hands on the wall.”
Smoke sighed, turned, and did as he was instructed.
The man cuffed Smoke’s hands behind his back.
“Blackwater,” Smoke’s father said from inside the house. “You’re making a huge mistake.”
“Stay out of my way,” the man snarled. “Or I’ll arrest the rest of you for obstruction.” He began reciting the Miranda rights.
Smoke looked at his father, at Kini, and shook his head. Back off, that head shake told her. That was a suggestion she was most certainly going to ignore.
Blackwater hauled Smoke to his cruiser, shoved him into the back seat, then drove away.
Anger was a hot spike in her gut. Kini watched them leave.
Susan touched her arm and urged her into the house. “They won’t be able to hold him long,” she said in a tone that was probably meant to be reassuring. It wasn’t.
The hot spike twisted painfully, robbing her of breath. What the fuck was going on?
Susan put a hand behind Kini’s back and guided her to a chair at the kitchen table. “I think another cup of coffee is in order.”
Kini pulled out her cell phone and called, not her boss, but River. She’d only met him once, but he’d seemed smart and his reputation, while new, stated that he backed his people up 100 percent.
As soon as he answered, she identified herself then said, “Smoke has just been arrested for murder.”
There was a two-second pause. “Did he do it?”
Kini was abruptly tired of everyone assuming the worst of a man who, if he’d had his way, would have taken every cut and bruise she’d suffered. “No, he didn’t do it,” she snapped. “He was asleep thirty miles away when it happened, but the stupid sheriff’s deputy arrested him anyway, because of secondhand information from some old buddy of the sheriff’s. Said Smoke’s service record wasn’t good, or something like that.”
Another second of silence. “Who died?”
“Two of the sheriff’s deputies.”
“Fuck.”
An accurate description of what had occurred. “Can you talk to Sheriff Davis? Get this cleared up?”
“I talked to him last night. He’s backing one of his deputies, Blackwater. I think he needs to hear from someone with more clout than I’ve got.”
“Get whoever is necessary to make these idiots listen.” She paused as an idea occurred to her. “Blackwater said a friend of the sheriff looked at Smoke’s military record, mentioned him going AWOL and stealing a helicopter. Did that actually happen?”
The pause was even longer this time. “Yeah, but it’s classified info. The list of people with access to it is relatively small, and all of them know better than to share it with a county sheriff.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“I’ll look into it and find someone suitable to give your sheriff and his deputies an attitude adjustment.”
“Thank you.”
“How are you doing? Smoke said you were injured last night.”
“I hurt, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I’m not sure what the situation at the hospital is. We were just about to go there when Blackwater showed up.”
“Can you assess the hospital’s status on your own?”
Bumps, bruises, and a few cuts didn’t render her an invalid. It would be a miracle if she didn’t end up strangling someone today. “Yes, I’m fine to do that.”
“I’ll call when I have some news,” River said, then hung up.
Kini put her phone away and stared at the top of the table. She still had a job to do, but no partner. She glanced at Smoke’s father. “Jim, do you have a set of keys for the jeep?”
She arrived at the hospital’s parking lot without incident. A fucking miracle, given the shitty shit that had already gone on this morning.
Walking into the ER was another thing entirely.
The place was packed, literally wall to wall to wall, with people coughing, yelling, and crying. Unfortunately, they were doing it all at once.
How could anyone even think in this cacophony?
She bypassed the line of patients waiting to see reception and headed for the examination rooms and diagnostic area of the ER.
Someone grabbed her arm and yanked her to a stop. “The back of the line is way over there.”
Kini looked at the woman dressed in scrubs and said, “I’m not a patient.”
The woman shook her head. “Either get back in line, or I’ll call security.”
“I’m with the CDC,” Kini told her, hauling out her identification and showing it to the woman. “I’m expected.” She hoped.
The woman stared at Kini’s CDC ID then jerked her hand back. “You look—”
“I know. I look like I barely survived an argument with a pissed off porcupine, but it’s nothing to do with why I’m here,” Kini interrupted. “Okay?”
The woman nodded, and Kini hurried toward the knot of medic
al personnel she could see through the doorway.
She glanced around but didn’t see anyone she recognized from the day before. That wasn’t a good sign. She approached a group of three women and one very elderly man, all dressed in identical mint green scrubs, and introduced herself, showing them her CDC ID as well.
“The CDC is here?” one of the women asked. “Oh thank God.”
All four of them stared at her with varying degrees of relief. So much relief she feared one of them might faint.
“How many people came with you?” the man asked.
“I’m here,” Kini said. “To assess the situation. I spoke with Dr. Flett yesterday. The last I heard, he had a fever. Where is he?”
“Dead,” the man said. “I’m Dr. Gordon, retired. The staff couldn’t reach anyone else, so they called me in.” He looked around and shook his head. “We’re overrun.”
“By what, exactly?” When Dr. Gordon looked at her like she’d said something incredibly stupid, she continued with, “I need to be certain and specific when I call this in.”
“Some kind of viral pneumonia. It’s very fast.” His voice caught in his throat, almost a sob. “Even the people we manage to get on a ventilator are dying before we can do anything to stabilize them.”
“Sir,” Kini said with respect. “The CDC can help, but it has to be invited in.”
“Please,” he said to her. “Help us.”
Kini nodded and offered a smile. “Is there a staff member who can work with me to coordinate their arrival?”
“I’m not sure…” His voice trailed off as he looked at the women huddled next to him. “Who?”
“Sonja,” one of them said. “She’s the charge nurse right now.” The woman turned and dashed off toward one of the exam rooms.
“What kind of help will the CDC send?” Dr. Gordon asked.
“All kinds. Medical, diagnostic, logistical. They’ll bring people, equipment, and supplies. I think we can safely declare an outbreak for whatever this is, which allows for emergency funds and manpower.”
“How soon will they be here?”
“Quicker than you might think.” She kept her tone professional and confident. “I tried to get Dr. Flett to request assistance yesterday, but he refused. Even so, they’ve been preparing for this call since my report yesterday afternoon.”
“We’ve called in everyone,” one of the nurses said. “Every single staff member is here, either working, sick, or dead.”
Dr. Flett was an asshole, and it was a good thing he was one of those dead. She would have torn him a new one otherwise.
“Are you using your emergency protocols?”
“No,” Dr. Gordon said. “But we should be.” He turned to one of the two remaining women. “Get on the public announcement system and tell everyone that with the number of people looking for care, we’re initiating our emergency response protocol. All sick people who have yet to see a doctor or nurse will receive a number and be triaged as soon as we can.”
“Yes, sir.” She ran off to do that.
Another woman hurried over to them. “You sent for me?”
“Sonja,” Dr. Gordon said, “This is…”
“Kini Kerek, CDC public health nurse,” Kini supplied.
Sonja found a quieter corner for Kini to make the phone call and stayed to supply answers to several questions Dr. Rodrigues at the CDC had. Afterward, Kini spent the next ten minutes watching for Smoke and explaining the timeline and the CDC’s response.
Where was that damn man? Every time she looked around and didn’t see him, her stomach wound tighter and tighter.
It took a ruthless kind of attention to keep her focus on Sonja and explain than an advance team of frontline care providers, nurses, doctors, and support staff would be departing Atlanta within the next hour. They would be traveling in two mobile clinics along with several other vehicles containing supplies as well as people.
“That’s the good news,” Kini told her. “The bad news is…it’s going to take them twenty-seven hours to get here. An advance team will arrive in about eight hours, depending on available flights, but that’s only a half dozen people.”
“How are we going to keep up with all the new cases?” Sonja asked in a tone on the verge of panic. “There’s a never-ending supply of them.”
“You do the best you can with what you can.” She gave the nurse a half smile. “It’s all any of us can do.” She caught sight of Dr. Gordon talking to a couple of other nurses. “Call whoever you need to.”
“I think I’ve contacted everyone on my list, but I’ll check it again,” Sonja said as she hurried away.
Kini headed for the doctor and filled him in.
“Dr. Gordon, would it be possible for you to talk to the mayor and sheriff? Have them inform the public in the area of what to do? Avoid gathering in groups to prevent the spread of the disease, wash their hands often, and wear a dust mask when cleaning.”
He nodded slowly then asked, “Quarantine?”
“I’m not authorized to issue a quarantine order, and enforcing a mandatory one in an area like this would be next to impossible without a lot more manpower.” She glanced down at herself, at the bruises and cuts visible on her arms and hands. “I’m not sure a quarantine would work, even with enough bodies to enforce it. Some of the people I’ve met here have had…an adverse reaction to me.” Look at that, she could be diplomatic once in a while. She tried to smile. “Is it possible for an entire town to be allergic to someone?”
Dr. Gordon’s gaze took in her bruises and sighed, no smile in sight. “No, but we’re not used to having strangers arrive asking personal, and often painful, questions. Add a sudden outbreak of a deadly disease, and the result is suspicion and distrust.” He shook his head. “I’ll do what I can, but I don’t know how successful I’ll be at calming people down or getting them to cooperate.”
The next hour went by in a blur of noise and activity. Kini answered a stream of questions, first from hospital staff, then from the town mayor and other community leaders. No one liked the quarantine option, but she was careful to stress that it was voluntary, to stay home if they didn’t need to go out for the next few days. Thanks to Dr. Gordon’s support, most of them promised to spread the word.
From the expressions of disgust and contempt on their faces, though, a couple still believed this outbreak was her fault.
Finally, she ran out of people trying to question her, giving her an opportunity to check her phone for texts or voice messages. The texts were all short notifications from her boss, but nothing from Smoke. The cold fingers of dread walked their way up her spine. He’d been arrested by a man who hated him. Images of Smoke, beaten to within an inch of his life, filled her head, and her breathing turned ragged. No, there wasn’t time to panic.
Wait. Someone had called her from a local number and left a voice message.
“The sheriff is charging me with murder,” Smoke said, his tone so calm and even only a fool would believe it. “Know a good lawyer?” The message ended there.
A cold sweat coated her skin. This was bad, very bad, and she was done waiting. Done.
About to call River and demand to know why he hadn’t found a general or admiral, or whoever to shout some common sense into the sheriff’s head, she noticed the time stamp on the call. Almost an hour old. Maybe the sheriff had been forced to see the light?
If so, where was Smoke?
She tried calling him; it went straight to voicemail. Damn it. She, the sheriff, and Deputy Blackwater were about to have an unpleasant conversation.
The reception desk in the building housing the jail was manned by a young-looking man with a large mustache wearing a police uniform and a name tag that read: Domingo.
“Hello,” she said with a polite smile. “My name is Kini Kerek and I’m wondering if I can talk to the sheriff?”
Officer Domingo returned her smile. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am. I’m afraid the sheriff is busy with a prisoner right now. How can I
help you?”
That didn’t sound good.
She upped the amperage on her smile. “Would that prisoner be Lyle Smoke?”
Chapter Eighteen
“I don’t care if the fucking Pope calls me,” Deputy Blackwater bit out, spitting on Smoke’s face. “You killed two of our officers, and you’re going to pay for it in every way I can come up with.”
And Blackwater was determined to make sure everyone believed it. Normally, Smoke would just wait the bastard out. He was good at waiting. Patience was a prized trait in a soldier, and he had it in spades.
But Blackwater was too angry, and if it weren’t for the sheriff and three or four deputies hanging out in the small dark room he was being questioned in, Blackwater would likely act on that anger. Not that the other men would stop him, but they were witnesses.
Kini had better be taking care of herself, or he was going to tan her bottom when he caught up to her. That woman wouldn’t hesitate to work herself to the bone, make herself sick. Sooner or later, someone was going to go over Blackwater’s head, give the sheriff a clue, and he’d have to release Smoke. He hoped it would be sooner.
Someone knocked on the door.
Blackwater ignored it to get into Smoke’s face again. “I want to know why you did it.”
Another knock, along with a man calling the sheriff’s name.
“Fuck off, Domingo,” Blackwater shouted. “We’re still questioning this piece of shit.”
The sheriff left his position, leaning against a wall, and went to the door. “What?”
The door opened wide enough for the guy to say, “Sir, Dr. Gordon is on the phone for you. He says the CDC is on its way and that he needs you to convince people to stay home.”
“Dr. Gordon?”
“He was the only doctor in town for years,” Blackwater said. “He’s retired.”
The cop in the doorway said, “The doc on duty died during the night, so they called Gordon in,” the fresh-faced officer standing in the doorway said. “There’s also a Kini Kerek here to see the prisoner.”
“That bitch is working with this asshole,” Blackwater snarled.
“Language,” the sheriff said, a warning note in his voice.