No Place Too Far

by Kay Bratt

  Maggie jumped at his words and put too much pressure on the wrap. He cursed, and from behind him he pulled out a scalpel that must’ve been tucked in his back pocket.

  “What the hell are you trying to do, Maggie?” he demanded, waving the blade in front of her face.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. The story about your father startled me.”

  She backed up a step.

  He studied her face, then lowered the blade to hold it beside his leg.

  “Just hurry. It fucking burns like fire,” Andrews said, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling as he strained to remain in place.

  “I’ve got access to morphine,” she said, still shaken up at the sight of him wielding a scalpel. One swipe and he could’ve slit her throat. “Just let me finish this up. And it’s going to need a shot of antibiotics or you might risk infection. I can do that here.”

  Maggie fumbled through the crash cart, looking for what she needed. Her eyes fell on the bottle of antibiotics, then behind it, another bottle. She picked up a clean syringe and the antibiotic.

  “Let me see it,” Andrews demanded. “I don’t trust you.”

  She handed over the bottle and he read it, then handed it back.

  “Doxycycline. Isn’t that what they give humans?”

  She nodded, then shook the bottle, uncapped the needle, and stuck it through. She held the bottle upside down, letting it fill the syringe to the halfway mark. “Many human medications are dog friendly. Just have to do it in smaller doses.”

  She stopped and sighed impatiently. “That bottle didn’t have enough. I’m going to have to uncap another.”

  She turned, blocking his view of the crash cart. Quickly, before he could ask questions, she picked up another small bottle and clean syringe, working faster than she thought possible as she filled it, then set them aside and grabbed the original syringe.

  She turned back to Andrews and he was cradling his hand against his chest.

  “Let me see,” she said.

  He put it out for her and she took it, feeling revulsion again as she touched him.

  She’d done a good job cleaning it up, but Maggie was a little surprised at the damage Woodrow had inflicted. The puncture wounds were deep even if they wouldn’t require stitches.

  She mentally gave Woodrow an attaboy. She knew her dog and she could bet that right now, he was having a fit because he couldn’t get in there to protect her. But he was where he needed to be, safe from the possibility of more abuse. That was the downside of falling in love with your pets. You’d risk your life for theirs without even blinking an eye because you knew they’d do the same.

  Woodrow had, in fact.

  “The antibiotics aren’t pleasant going in, but my son’s pediatrician taught him a trick.”

  “I’m not a toddler,” Andrews said. He looked doubtful, but Maggie was banking on the average man’s big fear of pain.

  “If you look away, it doesn’t hurt nearly as much. I swear, it works.”

  He hesitated, then turned his head.

  As soon as his gaze was averted, Maggie reached around for the second syringe.

  “What are you doing?” Andrews demanded.

  “Nothing,” she said innocently. “Don’t look.”

  He scared her so badly that her hands shook.

  Suddenly the clinic phone rang, and Andrews turned to look.

  Quickly, she put the syringe in her back pocket and said a prayer she wouldn’t break it, then picked up the original one.

  The second ring sounded even shriller than the first.

  She looked at the phone on the wall and saw the light blinking.

  “Don’t get it,” Andrews warned. “It’s them. I know it.”

  “But they might want to negotiate,” she said.

  “There’s nothing I want from them other than to get out of here with you.”

  He stared her down until she lowered her eyes.

  “And you know they aren’t going to allow that,” he finished. “Give me something for this pain so I can think clearly.”

  The phone stopped ringing. Then began again.

  “Damn it,” Andrews yelled, slamming his good fist on the examining table. “They need to stop! My head is killing me!”

  “What about transportation?” Maggie said. She needed to hear a voice. Any voice other than Andrews’s. “We need a way out of here. I can tell them that.”

  He hesitated, then nodded. “Tell them to bring a helicopter. With a full tank.”

  Maggie picked up the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Miss Dalton, this is Detective Kamaka. I’ve talked to your friends. Say yes if you are in there with Andrews.”

  “Yes,” Maggie said. She looked up at Andrews, and he gestured for her to hurry up. “We need transportation. He wants a helicopter with a full tank.”

  She hated using the word we, as it sounded like they were together, but she had to keep him convinced she was on his side.

  “Tell him that’s going to take some time. The precinct doesn’t have one, and we’ll have to find someone to lend theirs willingly.”

  “Just do it,” she said, suddenly remembering where she’d heard his name. He was the detective who’d talked to Quinn and wanted to close her case.

  “Say yes if he is armed,” the detective said.

  “Yes,” Maggie replied, still seeing the glint of the scalpel Andrews held in his free hand. After so many years of complaining about her freckles, she decided right then and there that if she walked out with all of them intact, she’d praise every single one.

  “Say yes if he is alone.”

  “Yes!” Maggie could see Andrews getting suspicious.

  “Ask him if there’s anything we can get to make you both more comfortable while you wait for the helicopter,” the detective said.

  Maggie held the phone to her shoulder and looked at Andrews. “He wants to know if we want anything else. It’s going to take some time for the helicopter.”

  Andrews shook his head.

  “I haven’t had dinner,” Maggie said softly. She hoped that would help humanize her in his eyes even more.

  He waved the scalpel again. “Then get something. I don’t care. Wait—a bottle of fine wine. And two glasses.”

  Maggie repeated his request into the phone and added a small pizza. She doubted she’d be able to eat anything, but in every hostage scene she had ever seen, they called in pizza. Maybe that was how someone from the outside slipped in a vital tool she’d need to get herself out of this hell.

  “Hang up,” Andrews said.

  She really, really didn’t want to hang up the phone. The detective that she’d once wanted to punch in the throat for dogging her best friend was now her lifeline.

  Maggie finally placed the phone back on the wall receiver and turned back around. Andrews was using his good hand to cradle his bad one around the wrist. His face was contorted into a grimace. For a man who thought he was big and tough enough to stalk someone, he sure didn’t take pain well.

  The scalpel was on his lap.

  “Get me something for pain,” he said.

  “I may not be able to get you anything strong enough,” she said. “The controlled substances are in the locked closet, behind another locked door, and then in a locked box. Only the doctor and his mother have the key.”

  “You said you had morphine.”

  “We do, but I forgot it’s locked up. The DEA requires it.”

  He looked like he might put his fist through the wall. Through gritted teeth, he told her to show him to the closet.

  Maggie took him to it, and immediately, Andrews eyed the dead bolt, then tried to pull the door. It didn’t budge. He blasted every curse word in the book as he pummeled it with punches and kicks, only to stop when he was out of breath and his hair was plastered down with sweat.

  She could see the scalpel was tucked in his back pocket again, but she didn’t trust herself to grab it and back away fast enough fo
r him not to take it from her. Having her skin sliced open didn’t sound like a fun way to end the evening, so she waited, keeping her back pocket out of view.

  He turned to her and glared. “You know where the key is, don’t you?”

  “No, I don’t!”

  He punched the wall with his good hand. “I’m in a fucking clinic, and I can’t get drugs? This can’t be happening.”

  The phone rang again.

  “Don’t answer it!” Andrews shouted.

  “It might be important.” Maggie really wanted to talk to the detective again. Andrews was looking crazier by the minute. She had a thought. “Were you on medication in jail, Martin?”

  He sank down to sit on the floor in front of the closet, his hands over his ears. When the phone stopped ringing, he put them down and looked up.

  “Yeah, on some mental health bullshit. It was supposed to calm me down, but all it did was make me sleep. And then came the nightmares.”

  “You haven’t had any medication since you got out?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Why? You think I’m hearing voices telling me to kill you?”

  She stared at him. He didn’t sound like he was kidding.

  “I hope not. I was asking because I’m sure that whatever you were taking, you probably aren’t feeling well going off of it cold turkey.” She could only imagine what they were treating him for. Bipolar disorder? Schizophrenia? The possibilities were endless.

  His confession upped the ante for her. Quite a bit, actually. Maybe he was in as much mental pain as physical, and that was making him more unhinged. She had to be careful.

  “Can I call my son?” she asked, feeling very afraid now.

  “For what? You changing your mind? What happened to us getting out of this together?” He looked at her with such venom, it amazed her that he had an infatuation with her at all. If looks could kill, she’d already be dead.

  “No, not at all. I’d just like to tell him goodbye.” She didn’t add that in a way, that was the truth. If she didn’t make it out of there alive, she wanted to hear his voice and tell him she loved him one more time.

  “You’ll have more kids,” he said, then leered at her, his eyebrows raised. “We can have our own son. Daughter, too, if you want one. So don’t go getting all morbid with wanting to say your goodbyes.”

  Maggie cringed at the thought of making a baby with Andrews, but she didn’t let him see her revulsion. She needed him to believe she wanted to be with him, in every way possible.

  Then she thought of Colby. There were a few things she’d like to say to him, too, but nothing that could be said in front of Andrews that wouldn’t make him react in a jealous rage.

  The phone rang again.

  “I know they don’t have the damn helicopter yet,” Andrews mumbled. “And I’m not up for chitchat.”

  “I can tell them we need the keys to the drug cabinet,” Maggie said quickly, before he could scream at her not to answer.

  He nodded. “Now you’re thinking.”

  She picked up the phone. “We need the keys to the controlled substance closet. Get Starr here stat.”

  “Miss Dalton, we can’t very well hand over keys that would enable an already-deranged man to further complicate things with heavy drugs. Surely you understand?”

  Maggie repeated it to Andrews and he stood, slowly coming at her.

  She backed away, but he caught her and slipped behind her, bringing the scalpel to her neck. He took the phone with the other hand.

  “Understand this,” he shouted into the receiver. “Send those fucking keys in with the pizza, or I’ll send her out in a bag. And you’ve got an hour to find a helicopter.”

  “He’s got a knife to my throat!” Maggie yelled.

  Andrews slammed the phone down, then dropped the scalpel to his side. He grinned at Maggie.

  She was afraid and that pissed her off, because she hated to show fear.

  “They bought it, didn’t they? Good job, Maggie.”

  Now she dropped down to the floor, her back to the closet. It wasn’t really planned, but her legs would no longer hold her up. Then the tears came again.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Quinn wiped at the tears that ran down her face. Liam pulled her in closer. They leaned against her Jeep, and Colby paced the six feet in front of it. The police wouldn’t let them any nearer, and he was about to give himself a stroke.

  He let out a litany of profanity and kicked his boot across the ground, sending up a trail of gravel. He still hadn’t calmed down from being restrained at the yellow line when he’d tried to get to the back of the clinic. No one cared that he was Maggie’s child’s father. They’d told him to either get off the property or go to jail.

  Liam had talked him into the former, pushing him back until they returned to the Jeep, but it wasn’t easy and took a lot of manhandling.

  “Colby, please,” Quinn said. “Maggie is getting out of there, and when she does, she’ll need you. What good will you be if you’re sitting in a jail cell right beside Andrews?”

  He stopped and bent over, his hands on his knees. “I’m losing it. I swear to God if I could just get in there . . .” He trailed off. Then he looked at the Jeep where Woodrow sat alert on the seat.

  Quinn could see Charlie in Colby’s face as he fought through his emotions.

  Thankfully their curious boy was still sound asleep and didn’t know that his mother was in danger. She’d picked up Rosa and brought her to stay with him, and Liam had called and arranged for a police officer to stand guard outside the apartment door. She had to give it to the young woman, Rosa was obviously frightened, but she’d still agreed to stay with Charlie as long as it took. Quinn prayed the ordeal would get under control and be over fast.

  On their way to the clinic, Liam and Quinn had taken turns filling Colby in on Martin Andrews and how he’d made Maggie’s life hell. Understandably, Colby had at first been furious at Maggie for keeping it from him, but now his anger was aimed directly at the faceless man who held Maggie against her will just yards away.

  “This is killing me,” Colby said, throwing his arms up and then letting them drop to his sides again. “I need to do something!”

  “Let the professionals do their job,” Liam said. “They’ll get her out.”

  “Hell, they probably don’t even have a hostage negotiator on this little piece of shit island,” Colby said.

  Quinn shushed him up. It wouldn’t do for any of the native Hawaiians to hear him talk about their town that way.

  Colby shook his head again, then restarted his pacing. Even Quinn could feel the pent-up anger and energy about to explode from his body.

  She felt the same inside, but acting it out wouldn’t make things any better. It was frustrating not to know what was happening. They’d had to park across the street and didn’t even have a good line of sight to the back of the clinic. Gawkers were lined up as close as they could get, most of them not even knowing what was going on, other than that it was a hostage situation.

  Even that was leaked from a detective’s wife on Facebook and had spread through social media and now the crowd. Quinn hoped he lost his job for that slip. Anything could set Andrews off. A loud crowd. Noise. Who knew what he would do if the wrong thing traveled back to him?

  She wished they’d all go home.

  Juniper had found Quinn and crossed the line to bring her Woodrow and fill her in with what information she knew, but then she’d gone back to the clinic in case they needed to ask her more questions.

  “Quinn,” someone called out.

  Speaking of the little devil, Juniper was making her way across the street again.

  “What’s going on?” She, Liam, and Colby faced Juniper, leaning in to hear what she had to say.

  “He asked for a helicopter, but he’ll never get it. Maggie asked for pizza and wine,” Juniper said.

  “Pizza and wine?” Colby said. “What the fuck is this? Some kind of psycho date? The police need
to go in and get her, right now. No more games!”

  “Stop, Colby,” Quinn said, putting her hand on his arm. “Maggie must have a plan. Let Juniper talk.”

  Juniper was out of breath. She gave Colby a nasty look but continued.

  “They’re trying to make him think they’re open to his requests. It’s called negotiation. He also wanted the keys to the closet with the controlled substances.”

  “Damn drug addict,” Colby muttered.

  “Maybe not,” Liam said. “Didn’t you say that Woodrow came out with blood on his muzzle? Maybe the guy is hurt and in pain.”

  “That’s what they think,” Juniper said. “They called in Starr, and he gave his permission if it’s going to help keep Maggie safe.”

  “Wait,” Colby interrupted. “Starr? Isn’t that the vet? Why is he allowed to be over there when I’m standing out here with nosy neighbors?”

  “I own the clinic,” said a voice coming around the Jeep. “I’m Joe Starr. You must be Colby.”

  Quinn stood back and let Joe into their circle.

  He and Colby faced off.

  “I was just telling them that he wants a helicopter, and Maggie asked for food and wine,” Juniper said.

  “That’s right. And it’s buying us time to let his anger fizzle out a little. I was able to bring the floor plans, and they know the layout in there now. I overheard them talking about having the SWAT team in place in case they need it.”

  Quinn cringed. “A team could end up getting her hurt, couldn’t it?”

  Joe didn’t answer.

  “What the hell was she doing out after work looking for strays anyway?” Colby asked, looking at Joe. “If she hadn’t come back here, she wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  “Technically, she wasn’t supposed to be with me,” Juniper said, shrugging. “Not his fault.”

  “Colby,” Quinn said. “Stop it.”

  Joe held his hand up. “No, he’s right. I take full responsibility. I can’t say how sorry I am that all this has happened. Maggie is a good woman. She doesn’t deserve this.”

  Quinn couldn’t agree more.

  “Look,” Joe continued, keeping his voice calm, “I know we’re all tense here, and Colby, you have more reason to be than anyone. Why don’t you come over there with me?”