Pure Dynamite

by Lauren Bach

  Hope faded as she realized why Lyle's name had sounded familiar. The McEdwins were notorious criminals.

  Like most of the country, she could recall their saga. Years ago, Willy McEdwin had joined an antigovernment group after losing his farm. He ended up imprisoned for the murder of his own wife—who died in an explosion prosecutors claimed Willy had rigged to take out a federal marshal serving a warrant.

  In a shameful twist, Willy's sentence was overturned ten years later when new evidence surfaced proving two police officers had actually rigged the explosives in an attempt to prevent him from testifying in court. Willy and his wife had both been victims.

  Once his name had been cleared, Willy was released from prison and eventually realized millions from wrongful death and false imprisonment suits. He was lauded as a folk hero when he promised to testify about government extortion regarding farmlands, but then he and his three eldest sons disappeared.

  Overnight, the public's sympathy turned to outrage as a string of explosions in the Midwest were linked to the McEdwins.

  Renata's hands trembled as she continued to watch the grim television report.

  "There are unconfirmed reports that one of the prison guards was taken hostage. And in what may be a related case, Durham police are investigating a shooting that occurred this evening involving an off- duty deputy."

  The deputy's photo flashed on the screen. "Sheriff's Deputy Jim Acton is currently in surgery at DukeMedical Center. No word on his condition. It is believed Acton was shot at a commercial storage facility trying to apprehend the two fugitives. Police are mounting a massive manhunt—"

  She lurched to her feet. "Oh, God! Not Jim."

  "A friend of yours?"

  She barely nodded. "He's engaged to one of the nurses at the hospital." She covered her mouth. "Poor Mary-Ellen."

  Adam's gut tightened over the news that the man Lyle had shot was indeed a law enforcement officer. Equally alarming was the mention of the missing guard. Wallace? Or the driver?

  While he hadn't been fond of either guard he hadn't wanted them harmed. He thought back to their escape. Had one of the other prisoners returned after Adam and Lyle fled? The handcuffed guards would have been easy prey.

  What should have been a precisely executed prison break was spinning out of control. Lyle had been shot, a deputy had been shot, a guard was missing and they'd broken into a clinic, forced a doctor to treat Lyle. It couldn't get much worse.

  The news coverage switched to the flooding, the backdrop changing to a montage of water-covered roads and dire predictions of more rain. Adam yanked the plug from the wall, killing the broadcast.

  Renata spun to face him. She jabbed a finger in the direction of the exam room. "That slimy bastard in there shot Jim, didn't he?"

  Adam didn't bother to deny the obvious.

  "And what about the missing guard? Did he shoot him too?" She made a strangled sound. "Please tell me you didn't leave that poor guard to bleed to deathsomewhere? You miserable—" She broke off when he made a move toward her.

  "Both guards were alive and unharmed when I last saw them," he said.

  Lyle interrupted calling out.

  "We're coming." Adam reached for her arm.

  She stepped back, eyes flaring. "You don't really expect me to go in there and help him, do you?"

  "Sometimes you have to do things you'd rather not." For the higher good. He tried to grasp her by the arm again.

  "I can find my own way." She stuffed her fists in her pockets and moved sideways, avoiding his touch. Hard plastic brushed against her knuckles: the handle of a disposable scalpel, the ultra sharp blade still covered.

  In the confusion earlier, she must have dropped it in her pocket. She tried to draw comfort from the thought that she had means to defend herself.

  Adam pressed closer. "Come on."

  Leaving the scalpel in her pocket, she pretended to give in and followed along.

  In the exam room, they found Lyle fumbling awkwardly with a match as he tried to light a cigarette.

  Renata ripped the cigarette out of his mouth and tossed it into the sink. Next went the match from his fingers. "No smoking."

  "Bitch! What'd you do that for? Worry about the hole in my groin, not my lungs."

  "I could care less about your lungs." She pointed to the posted warning on the wall. "We're running oxygen in here. Highly flammable—though personally, I don't care if either of you get blown to kingdom come."

  "Fuck off, lady." Lyle tapped out another cigarette. "You're not in charge here." "That's right. I am. Remember?" Adam took the cigarette from between Lyle's lips and tossed it after the other.

  Renata saw resentment flash in Lyle's eyes. Did Adam realize how unhappy his accomplice was about taking orders? Or had the gratitude for saving his life already worn thin? Perhaps the two men weren't as close as she'd assumed.

  Adam leaned in. "Tell me what your brother said."

  "We sit tight until he calls back," Lyle said.

  "That's it? Sit tight?" He shook his head. "That's not good enough."

  "He's doing the best he can. Getting another set of wheels takes time."

  "We don't have time." Adam updated Lyle on the news report. "Durham police are starting a manhunt. And they've got blood in their eyes now that one of their own's been shot."

  Lyle didn't blink over the news that he'd shot a deputy. "Now what?"

  "We need to get the hell out of town."

  Lyle curled his lip in Renata's direction. "Then if she has any more doctoring to do, she better do it fast."

  Reluctantly, she moved forward. While the news they'd be leaving soon should have relieved her, the idea of giving aide to this punk really tested her Hippocratic oath. First, do no harm ... Drat. Look how much harm he'd caused others.

  Just treat the injury and ignore the man, she told herself.

  Grabbing a handful of sponges, she began cleaning the area around Lyle's wound. There was dried blood everywhere, making her wonder again how much blood he'd lost.

  She swiped the skin across his lower abdomen, then paused. The man bore signs of other injuries—burns, cuts. Some were healed, some more recent. All were purposely inflicted. Neatly. Methodically.

  She glanced at Lyle, confused. "You sustained these in prison?"

  "The guards call it 'rehabilitation.' I flunked." Lyle closed his eyes, his breathing labored.

  Adam watched her face as the realization that the prison guards had tortured Lyle dawned on her. That was a facet of life she hadn't been exposed to.

  He had seen the scars before. Most were faded since it had been going on for most of the nine months Lyle had been in prison. Adam also knew who was behind it—two guards, Wallace and Huggins—and what they were after: the location of Lyle's father and brothers. Or rather, the million-dollar reward for the capture of the infamous Four Horsemen.

  Small wonder the kid had been near rabid in his desire to escape. Adam recalled how Lyle had promised Wallace he'd get even, making him wonder whether Lyle or his family had anything to do with the missing prison guard.

  The cell phone rang. Lyle winced as he answered.

  "Nevin! The doc's bandaging me up now."

  Lyle grew quiet, saying only "yes" or "no." Several times, he looked at Adam but said nothing. Adam knew they were discussing him, wished he knew what was being said.

  Finally Lyle held out the phone. "He wants to talk to you."

  Skeptical, Adam pressed the phone to his ear. "Yes?"

  "You know who this is?"

  "Of course."

  "Listen, I know this hasn't gone like it should, butI'm going to fix that. In the meantime I need your help with something."

  Adam snorted. "You're not in a position to ask much."

  "Maybe not. But right now I figure you need me as much as I need you. Especially since the cops are combing that area. Wouldn't take much for them to find you."

  "You picked the wrong person to threaten."

  "Wait!" Ne
vin's voice turned cajoling. "You're right. Actually, I have a proposition. You make sure my brother gets to me safely, and I'll make it more than worth your while. I'll have a car for you within two hours. Directions for safe passage will be in it."

  "Where are we headed?"

  "I'll tell you when you're on the road," Nevin promised. "And plan on bringing that doctor along."

  Adam hesitated. Forcing Renata to care for Lyle was one thing. Kidnapping her... "That's not necessary."

  "I don't give a damn if you think it's necessary. I won't take chances with my brother's life. Not when we're this close to getting him back to the family."

  This piqued Adam's interest. "You're in this vicinity?"

  Nevin sighed impatient. "Not any more—thanks to your little fiasco with the deputy."

  "Fiasco?" His grip on the phone tightened. "Let's get clear on a few things: It wasn't my screwup that produced this mess. If I had been alone, I'd have been out of the country by now."

  The implication was plain: Adam wasn't to blame. Nor was he pleased with the current situation.

  "Look, I know my brother can fuck things up big time. And I know you're not happy to involve anyone else. But you have to bring the doctor along now,"Nevin said. "If Lyle gets worse on the road are you going to risk busting into another clinic?"

  "We both know the cops would expect that."

  Nevin lowered his voice. "Where you're going, you'll be miles from a hospital. I'd rather be safe than sorry. And it won't be for long. Then you can turn her loose on a country road no worse for the wear. It'll be like dumping a stray animal."

  Adam briefly shifted his eyes to Renata, hoped she couldn't guess what they discussed. "The stray will be one-hundred percent unharmed?"

  "Absolutely. You should know that I don't hold with killing innocent people."

  Unless it suits your purpose, Adam thought. He was familiar with the crimes attributed to the McEdwins. Willy made a point of taking out innocent people along with his targeted objective. All in the name of vengeance for a wrong that could never be righted: the death of Willy's wife.

  "Don't forget she could also have value as a hostage," Nevin continued. "The cops always claim they won't negotiate, but it's a different ballgame when you're holding a gun to someone's head. Just be ready. I'll get back to you with details."

  The phone went dead. Adam looked at Lyle. "He's calling back. Chill out while I get supplies."

  Grasping Renata's arm, he dragged her out of the exam room and down the hall. "Do you have coffee?"

  The question surprised her. "What?"

  "Coffee? An employee kitchen?" It didn't sound like he'd get much sleep tonight. And Nevin's remark that they'd be miles from a hospital was telling. It was clear they were no longer headed toward Richmond.

  She pointed to an open doorway. "There's the employee break room."

  He made her enter first. "Make a pot. Extra strong."

  She opened a drawer and once again felt Adam peer over her shoulder. She grabbed two foil packages of coffee, held them up. "You're welcome to do this yourself."

  "Just checking." He turned away.

  While she drew water, he studied the photographs pinned on the bulletin board. A hand-written index card noted the photos were from a group hike the clinic staff had done at the start of summer.

  He pointed to a snapshot of her with three other people. "These are people you work with? Other doctors?"

  At her nod Adam re-examined the photo. They looked more like a band of gypsies than professionals. The group appeared to be laughing over some private joke. Renata wore a tank top, shorts and hiking boots, showing off legs that were muscular and tanned. Runner's legs.

  His eyes took in her figure. The shapeless white jacket she wore now hid a lot. In the photo, her hair was loose, a dark silky spill that hung just below her shoulders. She had big brown, expressive eyes that twinkled behind long lashes. He studied her mouth, her full lips. Very kissable lips, he recalled.

  He pointed to the background. "Is that the bridge at Laurel Fork Gorge?" Laurel Fork was on the Appalachian Trail. "That bridge was built using nothing but primitive skills and native material."

  Renata squinted at the picture. "I'm afraid to ask how you know that."

  He grunted. "Having a hard time imagining me hiking?"

  She nodded. "It seems a little wholesome. Unless of course you were burying a body."

  Adam moved to where the coffee had finished brewing, helped himself to a white foam cup. "Have you hiked much of the Trail?"

  "Some." His questions made Renata suspicious. "Why the small talk?"

  He took a sip of coffee, savored it, then shrugged. "Thought I'd get to know you since you'll be coming with us."

  "With you?" She shook her head and took a step backwards. Away from the man. Away from his words. "I am not going anywhere with you."

  "You'll be released unharmed, later."

  His unperturbed manner upset her even more. "You think I believe that? You're escaped convicts. You already shot one man." What was one woman?

  "I've kept my word. You haven't been hurt, have you?"

  Renata started to remind him of Lyle grabbing her wrist earlier. Except Adam had sort of rescued her then by knocking Lyle's hand away. She didn't want to hear him claim chivalry. Fugitives had no chivalry. They acted solely in self-preservation.

  She tried a different tact. "I'd be a hindrance. And you really don't need me. If he won't go to the hospital, there's not a lot I can do that you couldn't. You've obviously had some experience. You can change his dressings—"

  He cut her off. "We both know he'll need more fluid by IV What if he requires a blood transfusion?"

  "And no weasels are available as donors? Gee, you'll have to take him to the hospital. You don't need me for that either."

  He scowled. "There's plenty of other things that can go wrong: What if the needle dislodges again? Or he starts going into shock?"

  "He'll still require a hospital. Can't you get that through your thick head? That doesn't change, damn it!"

  Adam wondered if she even realized she swore. Her bottom lip quivered as she struggled to contain her emotions, her distress palpable. He could imagine what was going through her mind knew she feared the worst. He wished he could offer assurance.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. Lyle's condition needed close monitoring. Adam knew basic first aid— field stuff. Lyle's wound was beyond that.

  There was also the question of crossing Lyle's brother this early in the game. While Adam had no intention of playing patsy, he needed to gain Nevin's trust. If Adam took Renata along for just a short time and then set her free, it would appear he'd attempted to comply with Nevin's decree.

  Mind made up, he drained his coffee cup, refilled it. "Where do you keep your medical supplies?"

  "There's a closet in the hall."

  "Show me."

  Inside the supply closet, he grabbed an empty cardboard box. He scanned the shelves, pulling out unopened packages. Basic provisions: gauze, tape, peroxide, a thermometer, blood pressure cuff. He grabbed one of the green scrub suits for Lyle to wear, then turned to her.

  "What else will we need? Think worst-case scenario because you won't have access to more once we're on the road."

  "I am not going with you."

  "We've established that you don't want to. But you will. Now either help me or be stuck with whatever I've got here."

  Renata slowly unfolded her arms. Arguing with the man was futile. There was no reasoning with the unreasonable. She'd have to wait for the right opportunity and make a move.

  She shot him a dirty look then checked the supplies he'd taken.

  "You've got enough gauze for a small army. How long will I be held? Or are you anticipating more casualties?"

  "Worst case, remember?"

  She scanned the contents again, then added a box of latex gloves, bags of antibiotics, and suture kits. "There's IV kits and tubing to your left. Grab them. We'll ne
ed a case of saline, too." She reached for a general-purpose first aid kit.

  Adam surveyed the box. "That's it?"

  "Short of splints, we have a little of everything. If he's not showing marked improvement within forty- eight hours, nothing I've got here will keep him alive."

  That wasn't exactly the truth. Problems like infection or blood clots could still show up a week from now. And there was an entire universe of potential complications, particularly since she didn't know if bullet fragments had caused any internal damage. A miniscule nick on his intestine could slowly leak poison into his system. In a truly worst-case scenario, nothing in the box would replace a surgeon and trauma facility.

  A knock echoed from the front door. That quick, Adam hauled Renata back against his chest. His hand covered her mouth as the knocking repeated louder.

  "Dr. Curtis? You in there?"

  "Is that the security guard who was here earlier?" Adam whispered.

  She nodded.

  Lyle's voice drifted down the hall. "Adam! What the hell's going on?"

  Renata felt the hard press of his gun against her ribs as they hurried to the doorway of the exam room. Adam motioned for Lyle to remain quiet, then pushed her to the lobby, his hand still covering her mouth.

  "You need to get rid of him. Fast. Without arousing suspicion." Stepping behind the door, he pointed the gun at it. If he fired, he'd hit Clarence. "Think about his well-being."

  She nodded and cracked the door. His hand dropped to her elbow, out of sight, but still controlling her. The security chain seemed to mock her. Clarence stood outside.

  In spite of the lump in her throat, she tried to smile. She'd worked with Clarence for almost two years, had met his family at the annual Christmas party. He had three kids. Right now she felt responsible for them.

  "Yes?"

  "Sorry to bother you, Doctor Curtis." Clarence shook his head. "We got a couple convicts on the loose. Thought I'd check on you."

  She forced a neutral look to her face. "I saw the news earlier. Is there any word on how Deputy Acton's doing?"

  She felt Adam's fingers press into her arm, knew he wasn't pleased with her query. Too bad she thought.

  Clarence frowned. "Last I heard, he was still in surgery. Bad stuff. It might be a good idea for me to see you to your car. Follow you home. Weather's supposed to get worse, too. Lord knows we don't need more rain."