Sworn to Protect

by Susanne Matthews

  “Nice. As far as KP goes, I don’t mind cooking, but someone else has to clean up.”

  “Deal, as long as you don’t dirty every pot and dish in the place. I’ll get the plates.”

  “Any more on that shooting downtown?” Todd asked when she came back into the room.

  “Chatter on the police radio says they’re looking for a black van. They’ve set up roadblocks. I heard nineteen confirmed dead and twenty-seven wounded with a dozen of those in critical condition. It doesn’t look good.”

  Todd whistled. “Anyone claiming responsibility?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Well,” Neil said, reaching for one of the plates. “It’s just a matter of time before they do. Let’s eat before the vultures come down, and there’s nothing left. I want to catch a few zees before we get this show on the road.”

  “You’ve got it,” Mac answered. “Cheese or all dressed?”

  Neil smiled. “All dressed all the way.”

  Chapter Four

  Two hours later, Neil entered the living room once more. The muted television continued to show the live feed from downtown. Although he’d showered, he didn’t feel any more alert than he had earlier. He’d tried to sleep, but worry over Nancy and the fact she didn’t answer his calls had him frustrated and angry. No matter what had come between them, she’d always had the decency to reply. Staring at the leftover pizza in the box, he decided against another piece.

  Todd and Mac were in the kitchen packing up the last of the food for transport and arguing over who made the best ribs in Baltimore. Fred was upstairs packing. He’d finally finished answering questions, but Neil got the impression the men who’d interrogated him were no more satisfied with their guest than he was. A cellphone rang.

  “Neil, that must be yours,” Tom shouted from the kitchen.

  “Seriously?” Neil reached for the Smartphone on the table, stared at the call display, and frowned. He didn’t recognize the Baltimore number. Had the techs made a mistake and given him someone else’s phone? It wouldn’t be the first mistake on assignment, nor was it likely to be the last.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Neil Copeland?” The woman’s voice was clipped and professional.

  “It is,” he answered, his brow furrowed. “Who’s this?”

  “Inspector Copeland, I’m Detective Elise Sanders with BPD. Director Anderson wouldn’t give us your location, just this number.”

  Neil stared at the phone. Baltimore PD? What could they possibly want with him?

  “You’re wife’s been in an accident,” the voice said, as if her words weren’t cutting him to the quick.

  The air was sucked out of the room, and Neil struggled to breathe, almost brought to his knees by the agony that filled him.

  “My wife?” The question erupted from his mouth. The acid in his stomach churned, making him regret he’d had lunch.

  “According to the information we have, Nancy Frost has been seriously injured. You’re listed as her husband and next of kin. Is that incorrect?”

  What the hell was Nancy doing in Baltimore? Cold filled him just as it had four years ago, but this time he wasn’t going to stand by. Nothing, not even Fred upstairs, was going to stop him from going to her. They could get along without him for a while, and if they couldn’t then he’d quit, but no matter what, he wasn’t going to let Nancy down again. He plopped into the chair and the sound of it brought Todd and Makenzie into the room.

  “No. It’s correct.” She might not want him to be her husband, but until the decree was finalized he was. “What happened?”

  “You may have heard there’s been a mass shooting downtown. Your wife was one of the victims—”

  Pain seared him. “Is Nancy dead?”

  “No, sir, at least not as far as I know. She’s in critical condition and has been taken to Johns Hopkins.” He could hear the sympathy in the woman’s voice now. What had he thought earlier? Shot at close range with a high velocity weapon? The odds weren’t good.

  “I’m on my way.” He ended the call and reached for his coat. “I don’t know why she was there, but Nancy was a victim in that restaurant shooting we saw earlier. Call Anderson and get him to find someone else to babysit this guy.”

  He stared at the two marshals, their shock and dismay clearly evident. His face had to be as white as the shirt he wore while his stomach was a seething cesspool. Where did all the blood go when it left your face? The thought of Nancy’s blood pooling on a restaurant floor spurred him to action.

  “Don’t even think of trying to stop me.” His voice was hard, clearly demonstrating his determination, daring someone to say he couldn’t go. It would take physical restraints to keep him here, more than either of these two had.

  “Wouldn’t dare,” answered Todd, grabbing another piece of cheese pizza and shoving it in his mouth. His partner always ate when he was upset.

  “Where are the car keys?” Neil’s hands fisted at his side.

  “Right here. I’ll drive.” Todd reached for his jacket.

  Makenzie came over to Neil and touched his arm. “Go. Chuck and I have this. I’ll talk to Anderson. I know a couple of retired guys who won’t mind filling in as long as it takes. Call when you can.”

  He nodded and followed Todd out to the SUV.

  “You know, you don’t have to do this.”

  Todd glanced at him quickly, before moving around the vehicle, but it was long enough for Neil to read the compassion on his face.

  “Try to stop me, tough guy. I’m your partner. I’ve got your back in all things. If Anderson doesn’t like it, he can take this job and shove it where the sun don’t shine. Like I told you. I’m ready for a change.”

  Neil nodded, knowing instinctively Todd would understand how much he appreciated this. He couldn’t drive at this moment even if he wanted to, and since he wasn’t familiar with Baltimore, he needed his partner now more than ever.

  “Fasten your seatbelt,” Todd said, putting the key into the ignition. “Where we going?”

  “Johns Hopkins,” Neil answered, his heart pounding in his ears.

  The tires squealed as Todd pulled away from the curb. The SUV moved swiftly down the residential streets barely stopping for stop signs and roaring away as soon as the lights turned green. Todd’s badge got them through the four roadblocks quickly. Neil had never truly understood how long time could seem, but even the seconds were crawling now. He watched the blur of houses and stores pass, unaware of where he was or in which direction he was traveling. He wouldn’t be able to retrace their route if his life depended on it.

  Johns Hopkins was one of the nation’s premiere medical centers. Its trauma unit would be second to none. He knew all too well the dangers associated with gunshot wounds. The victim could die from blood loss, infection, or trauma to the internal organs. Time was of the essence. Nancy was in critical condition. Where she’d been shot and how many times would impact her prognosis.

  In his mind, he pictured her the way she’d been when he’d shown up at the hospital four years ago. She’d been pale, but she’d been awake, and when she’d seen him, she’d dissolved into tears. The possibility of finding her sitting up this time was slim to none. The fear he’d be too late clawed at him making him weak.

  Todd screeched to a stop outside the ER entrance. “Go. I’ll park the car. Don’t worry. I’ll find you.”

  Johns Hopkins’s emergency area was crawling with hearses, police cars, and the ever present paparazzi. Neil muscled his way through the crowd of curious citizens and ambulance chasers, only to be brought up cold by two tactical squad officers in Kevlar, assault rifles at the ready, guarding the door.

  “Sorry, sir. No one goes in without authorization.”

  Pulling out his badge, Neil shoved it into the officer’s face. “Is this authorization enough?” he growled, his frustration and fear guiding his actions. “I got a call from Detective Sanders. My wife’s in there, and I’m going in.” The unspoken ‘and don�
��t try to stop me’ was loud and clear.

  The young officer didn’t hesitate. “Sorry, marshal. Just doing our job. Until we know who the target was, anyone could still be at risk.”

  Neil nodded, ashamed of his sudden outburst of temper, but unable to control any of his emotions.

  “I know, and on any other day, I’d be the one in your shoes. Have they got anything more to go on? Do they know who’s responsible?”

  The officer shook his head. “Not as far as we’ve been told. Forensics are on site. They may have more information later.”

  “Where will I find Detective Sanders?” Neil ran his hand through his hair.

  “She’s manning the information desk inside.”

  “Thanks. My partner’s parking. Let him through when he gets here, will you?”

  “Yes, sir. I hope your wife is okay.”

  Neil didn’t answer, afraid doing so might acknowledge the possibility she wouldn’t be.

  The doors slid open. He’d been in a lot of ER’s over the years, but never one with such a strong police presence. His marshal’s instinct kicked in and even as he moved forward quickly, he was taking in the details of the room. Who had shot up that restaurant? More importantly, who had been shot there that had everybody on pins and needles? This place was locked down tighter than Fort Knox.

  Hurrying over to the desk, he pulled out his badge, ready to flash it at the frazzled woman sitting there. Some of those present were bandaged, others looked shell-shocked. They had to be the rest of the restaurant patrons and employees who’d survived the massacre.

  “Hey! Wait your turn,” a man yelled as Neil walked past him right to the front of the line. “I want to get out of here too, but we can’t go until she interviews us all.”

  Neil turned around and glared at the man, every bit of his fury and frustration aimed at the guy who immediately backed down and looked away. If looks could kill, that guy would be pushing up daisies. Neil pivoted and shoved his badge in the detective’s face.

  “Where’s my wife?”

  “Inspector Copeland,” she said, using the correct form of address for a U.S. marshal. “I’ve been expecting you. Director Anderson sent a message.” She handed him a slip of paper. He thrust it into his pocket without looking at it. He didn’t care what Anderson wanted right now. Nancy needed him, and nothing short of his own death was going to pull him away from her side.

  The detective looked at him, her eyes filled with sympathy, and turned toward the sound of a door opening.

  “Willis,” she called to the nurse who’d just stepped out of a room.

  The young brunette hurried over. The dark circles under her eyes testified to her exhaustion.

  “Yes, detective?” she asked, moving toward the desk.

  “Can you take Inspector Copeland upstairs? His wife’s in surgery.”

  A look of compassion mixed with dismay crossed the young nurse’s face.

  Neil’s hopes plummeted.

  The man who’d yelled at him touched his arm. “Hey, man, I’m sorry. I hope she makes it.”

  Neil swallowed awkwardly, nodded, and turned to the young nurse.

  “This way, sir.” She led him to the elevator and pushed the button for the surgical floor.

  “What can you tell me?” he asked, his voice low and begging.

  “About your wife? Nothing, I’m sorry, but this place has some of the best surgeons in the country. They’ll do everything they can for her. This is your floor. The waiting room’s at that end. Someone there will be able to help you.”

  “Thanks.”

  The elevator doors closed, and he was left alone in the cold, sterile hallway. He shivered. He hated hospitals. Never once in his life had he ever been in one where the news was good.

  Neil fought to get his emotions under control and failed. His palms were wet, and his stomach was filled with molten lava. On his right, the doors held a sign that read Authorized Personnel Only. Nancy was somewhere behind those doors. He swallowed nervously, more frightened than he’d ever been. Turning left, he walked toward the waiting room, his footsteps echoing the frantic beat of his heart.

  The sitting area was filled to capacity. Some people were pacing quietly, others were seated, holding onto one another for support, while a few were sobbing. One man had his head bent in prayer. A baby girl no more than a few weeks old sat in a carrier at his feet. He hoped God was listening to the man’s pleas. Little girls shouldn’t grow up without a mother. A nurse sat behind a desk over to one side. He walked over to her, and once more took out his badge.

  “Yes, Inspector Copeland. How can I help you?” She smiled, but the smile didn’t reach her tired eyes. How much bad news had she dispensed in the last hours? Before he could answer her question, the phone beside her rang.

  “Surgical Floor… Yes, Doctor Crites. That’s good news. I’ll tell the family.” She hung up the phone, and the smile she gave him was genuine. “I’ll be right back.”

  He wanted to scream, “No! Stay here. Talk to me,” but instead he fisted his hands at his side so tightly his nails almost drew blood.

  She crossed the waiting room to an older couple sitting apart from the others. As she spoke quietly, Neil saw hope and then joy bloom on their faces while they listened intently and then hugged one another. He was happy for them, really he was, but not knowing how Nancy was doing tore his heart to shreds.

  The nurse quickly resumed her seat, her smile still firmly in place.

  “Their nineteen-year-old son was working as a busboy today—his first day on the job. It’s still touch and go, but he made it through surgery. If you’re here to talk to Detective Evans, he just went to get some coffee.”

  Neil gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. Biting her head off wouldn’t help him get the information he desperately wanted any faster.

  “My wife is one of the victims,” he said, fighting the tremor in his voice. “What can you tell me?”

  The nurse’s demeanor changed immediately. “I’m so sorry. I thought you were here to add to security. Here I am yakking ... What’s her name?”

  “Nancy Frost.” It had been Nancy Copeland, but she’d gone back to her maiden name when she’d returned to work.

  The nurse’s face was serious, and she lowered her voice.

  “Inspector, I know you know more about these types of injuries than most of the families here, and I’m sure you want the truth. When they brought her in, she was in the early stages of hypovolemic shock. They took her into surgery as soon as they stabilized her. Two of our finest surgeons are working on her.”

  “Do you know what the extent of her injuries are?”

  “Not exactly, but there’s a thoracic surgeon and a neurosurgeon in there with her. I’m sorry I don’t have any more information to give you.”

  He gripped the edge of the desk, hoping for the strength to stay on his feet.

  “Thank you.” He swallowed the fear clogging his throat. A neurosurgeon? That meant a head wound. There was no telling how much trauma the brain had suffered. Even if she survived the surgery, she might not wake up. Could he pull the plug?

  Neil walked to the far side of the room, sat down, and closed his eyes, trying not to think of the gunshot victims he’d seen over the years. Footsteps stopping beside him drew his attention. He looked up. Todd stood there with two cups of coffee. Grateful for the gesture, Neil reached for one and sipped. The brew was bitter, but hot.

  “I was talking to Evans downstairs,” Todd spoke softly. “He and I worked together years ago before I joined the marshals. Rumors abound, but they aren’t so sure there were terrorists involved. Among the critically injured is Snakebite, the number two man for the Cobras. That gang’s been in a turf war with the Warriors for as long as I can remember. This could’ve been a gang hit.”

  “And no one had a head’s up?” That made no sense. Usually, when something this big went down, at least one informant heard rumors.

  “Apparently not. Evans said he woul
d never have imagined the Warriors could pull off something like this. It’s way out of their league. BPD is on high alert, but the unsubs have vanished. That’s my news, what’s yours?”

  “Not much better.”

  He repeated what the nurse had told him and reached into his pocket for the note the detective had given him.

  “Here, you read it. No matter what Anderson says, I’m not leaving here until she’s well or dead.” He gagged on the pain the word caused him. “He can have my resignation orally now, and in writing as soon as I find a pen and some paper. I should’ve quit four years ago. Why is my life ruled by should’ve and could’ve?”

  “Think positive. The head wound has to be a graze.” Todd opened the note he’d given him, read it, and handed it to him.

  “I really think you should look at this.”

  Reluctantly, Neil reached for the paper.

  Neil,

  Whatever you need, just ask. We’re all pulling for her. Rest assured, we’ll get these guys.

  Tom Anderson

  Neil stared at the paper. It was the last straw. He couldn’t control his emotions any longer, and he broke. Tears ran unheeded down his cheeks.

  “She’s got to be okay, Todd. I can’t face the thought of losing her this way.” Neil swallowed the bile in his throat. “I’m the one who lives by the gun. I’m the one who should be lying on the OR table, not her.”

  Todd nodded, his face grim. “You can’t blame yourself for this. Bad things happen to good people. We’ve seen it time and again. By the way, have you called her friend, the lawyer?”

  “You mean Meredith Stone? I suppose I should. If nothing else, she might know why Nancy was in Baltimore.” He swallowed his tears and stood. “I’ll be right back.”

  Neil pulled the cell phone out of his pocket and left the waiting room for what little privacy the hallway provided. He called up his contacts list and pressed her office number. It was almost five, but she often worked late.

  “Good afternoon, Richards and Associates. How may I help you?” the familiar voice answered.