by Karen Rose
Twenty-seven
Loveland, Ohio
Tuesday, 19 March, 5.05 P.M.
‘Thank you for bringing us here,’ Michael signed to Coach, who hadn’t even frowned at him after he’d lost it with Joshua. Coach should have. So should Dani. Everyone should have. Because I’m like them. In a minute of temper and self-pity, he’d become the mother and stepfather he’d despised.
‘You’re welcome. Don’t you want to play with the puppies?’ Coach signed back.
Dani and Coach had somehow managed to get them out of that condo, which couldn’t have been easy. They had four FBI agents as bodyguards and the men all seemed super-tense, always looking around for danger. Dani told him that her brother Deacon hadn’t wanted them to go, but that she’d convinced him that their mental health – Michael’s mental health – was important, so Deacon had sent them the extra two bodyguards.
Michael considered telling Dani that it was all right, that they could just stay, but he’d needed to escape the condo more than he’d needed to breathe.
He shivered just thinking the word. Condo. It was more like a prison. It was a nice place. Nicer than any place that Michael had ever seen. Still a prison.
It wasn’t Dani’s house. It wasn’t home.
Delores’s shelter wasn’t Dani’s house, either, but it was nicer than the condo. Plus, there were animals. Dogs and cats and rabbits and even a ferret. Plus three pygmy goats and a llama in the field behind the house that connected to the shelter. They all had names and Delores knew every one of them.
She’d been nice enough to meet them out here, taking time away from sitting with Stone in the hospital. She’d waved off Michael’s thanks, telling him that she needed to shower anyway. She knew a few signs because Greg came out here to volunteer sometimes, cleaning cages and grooming animals.
Michael thought that was something he’d also like to do.
Drawing in a breath of fresh air, he looked at the litter of four puppies playing in a pen. Delores claimed they were a giant schnauzer/Doberman mix. Michael only cared that Joshua was in the middle of them, laughing nonstop. He wished he could hear, just so he could hear his brother laugh.
‘No, I don’t need to pet the puppies. I’m good watching Joshua.’
Coach just nodded, and the two of them stood there together. Michael felt quiet inside his mind for the first time he could remember. And in the quiet, his brain was screaming that he’d fucked up.
‘Joshua won’t trust me anymore,’ Michael signed.
Coach touched his shoulder, then tipped his chin up, forcing Michael to meet his gentle gaze. ‘You didn’t break anything between you and Joshua that can’t be fixed,’ he signed back. ‘Tell him you’re sorry, then let him decide when he’s ready to trust you again. He worships you. You can fix this.’
‘I pushed him.’ Michael couldn’t believe he’d done that. ‘I always promised myself that I’d never hurt him, that I’d never be like them.’
‘Your mom and stepfather?’ Coach asked, and Michael nodded. Coach bent down until they were eye to eye. ‘You are nothing like them. Were they ever sorry when they hit you?’
‘No. My mom would apologize sometimes, but only when the social workers came and threatened to take me away. But I am sorry. God, how could I do that?’
‘Because you’re human. I told you that I bullied kids when I was in school. I’m not proud of that. I’ve contacted a lot of them to apologize, to make amends.’ He finger-spelled the word. ‘You can, too. But now you know what you’re capable of doing. You have to work to control your anger so that it doesn’t push you to use your strength against someone else. That’s what a real man does.’
Coach would know, Michael thought. ‘I told Meredith what happened to me,’ he blurted, signing it fast before he could change his mind.
‘I’m glad,’ Coach said simply. ‘You can always come to me, too, whenever you need to talk.’ Then he pointed at Joshua, who held a squirming puppy on his lap, giggling every time the little dog licked his face. ‘What do you want to bet that we take that puppy to Dani’s once it’s safe for you to go home with her?’
Michael smiled, relieved that he still could. ‘That’s a sucker bet, Coach.’
Coach grinned. ‘I agree.’ He gave Michael a tiny nudge towards his brother. ‘Go. Talk to him. You’ll feel better and so will he.’
I hope so. His stomach hurting with nerves and shame, Michael approached Joshua, kneeling outside the pen. ‘He’s cute.’
Joshua nodded, his joy changing to a careful study of the puppy’s giant paws.
Michael sighed and tried again, voicing this time. ‘What’s his name?’
Joshua looked up, eyes wary when they’d never been before, and right there and then Michael vowed he’d never hurt his brother again. He’d learn to control his anger. He didn’t care how many times he had to spill his guts to Meredith.
‘She’s a girl,’ Joshua signed, letting go of the dog as he did so, but the puppy remained exactly where she was – cuddled safely in his lap. ‘I’m gonna call her Storm. From X-Men.’
‘That’s a good name. She’s going to get really big.’
Joshua’s chin lifted, like he was preparing for an argument. ‘She’ll keep me safe.’
Ouch. The because you won’t didn’t have to be said. Michael ran a hand over his head before slowly signing his reply so that Joshua would know he was serious.
‘I’m sorry, Joshua. I was wrong, what I did. I wasn’t mad at you. I was mad at myself.’ And life. And the nightmare he couldn’t seem to escape. ‘I lost my temper and didn’t take care of you. It won’t happen again. I promise. Please forgive me.’
Joshua stared up at him for a long, long moment. Then he smiled and, putting the puppy down, lifted his arms to Michael.
Michael picked him up, breathing again when Joshua’s arms and legs came around him like a spider monkey. Joshua squeezed him hard and Michael squeezed hard right back. They stood like that for a long time, Joshua burying his face in Michael’s neck.
At last the little boy squirmed to get down and Michael had to let him go. Joshua tugged his hand, urging him to get into the pen with him and the puppies. Michael obeyed, sitting on the ground with Joshua and the new puppy in his lap.
He saw Dani watching him soberly from outside the pen. ‘You don’t have to take care of him anymore,’ she signed without speaking. ‘Not alone, anyway. We’ll help you. And we’ll take care of you, too. It’s your turn to be a kid now.’
New tears burned his eyes and it was like he could suddenly breathe. ‘Thanks,’ he mouthed. ‘And for these,’ he added, pointing to the puppies.
Dani just smiled.
Yeah, Joshua was totally getting his own dog.
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday, 19 March, 6.10 P.M.
Cade backed the minivan he’d stolen into the alley behind the free clinic. He needed to get in and out quickly. The clinic probably had an alarm and he was moving too slowly to get away before it sounded.
His leg hurt. And he felt sick. And hot. And so damned tired. His fever had spiked sometime before dawn – over a hundred and four. He’d downed some Advil and taken cold shower after cold shower to bring it down. It was hovering around a hundred and two now. Not great, but at least he was able to move without falling down.
He got out of the minivan and clutched the frame when a new wave of dizziness slammed him hard. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He’d been saying that all day, cursing when he’d woken that morning to find it was after ten a.m. The clinic had already opened and he wasn’t going to attempt a B&E when there were people there. So he’d waited, taking more cold showers and using all the antibiotic cream on the fucking wounds, which continued to be swollen and oozing. Red streaks traveled from them in all directions, a sure sign of blood poisoning. Sepsis. Fucking hell.
He w
as going septic, and according to the Internet, he could die. Fucking hell. After all this, he could die from a fucking infection.
‘Not going to happen,’ he muttered through gritted teeth.
Evelyn had been right. He needed antibiotics, and fast. He’d already Googled how to give himself an IV, so that he could do it quickly if he found the supplies. He hoped his hands wouldn’t shake too much to get a needle in himself.
He also hoped they wouldn’t shake while he was trying to pick the lock on the clinic’s rear door. Taking his lockpick set from his pocket, he fought against the chills that continued to rack his body.
This is what I get for trying to do the right thing. I never should have checked on that damn kid. Joshua fucking Rowland. I should have gone home to bed. Then Michael Rowland never would have seen him and he wouldn’t be in this mess.
But thinking like that wasn’t going to help him now. Now he needed antibiotics. As soon as he got inside, he was grabbing every antibiotic he could find, in whatever form he could find it. He could use some painkillers, too, but the clinic’s website clearly stated that they did not dispense narcotics of any kind.
He frowned. The website also clearly stated that their hours were eight to five, but the doorknob turned easily, before he’d even tried to pick the lock. Either someone had been stupid and not locked up, or someone was here.
He hesitated, his hand on the cool metal of the handle. If someone was here . . . He shook his head hard, trying to clear his vision. It didn’t matter who else was here. He was here and he wasn’t going to back out now. He was going to get the damn antibiotics because he was not going to die.
He slipped through the door, closing it quietly, and checked for an alarm panel. There it was, next to the door. The light was green. Green is good. Green meant no alarm had been set. He was safe for now.
Creeping through the hallway, he looked for the drugs, pulling on every door until he found one that said SUPPLY CLOSET.
That was simple enough. Except that it had a combination lock, not a keyed lock. He exhaled as quietly as he could. Fuck. He couldn’t pick that.
He drew the gun from his pocket, tempted to shoot the lock off, but that only worked in the movies. With his luck, the bullet would ricochet and hit him, giving him another wound and even more infection.
Maybe it was good that someone was here. Especially if they knew the combination to that lock. If they knew, they’d tell him or he’d . . .
He’d figure that out if they refused. Maybe they’d just give him the medication. They were supposed to heal people, right?
He took another shaky step, then froze. A man stood at the other end of the hall, silhouetted by the light behind him. For a moment they simply stared at each other, then the man spoke.
‘What do you want?’
Cade blinked hard. The man was holding something in his right hand, lifting it in the air. A gun.
Cade fired twice, the suppressor keeping the sound to a quiet pop-pop. The man crumpled to the floor, arm outstretched.
A woman screamed. ‘Miles! Oh my God, Miles!’
A few things became apparent in the next few seconds. Miles wasn’t holding a gun. It was a cordless phone. Fuck.
And Miles wasn’t wearing a shirt. Neither was the woman who now knelt beside him, frantically taking his pulse, still shouting his name.
The woman, who wore only a bra and a pair of scrub bottoms, looked right at Cade, her eyes wide with shock. ‘You shot him.’
‘Get away from him,’ Cade gritted out, motioning with his gun. ‘Come here and open the supply closet.’ Irritated when she didn’t respond, he fired another bullet into the man’s leg. He didn’t have time for this. He also didn’t know if the man had managed to get a call in to 911 like George Garrett had. ‘Kick the phone toward me. Do it!’
The woman just stared at him, then back down at the fallen man. ‘Miles? Miles, open your eyes, baby. Please.’ She rose on shaky legs, turning for one of the exam rooms.
‘Stop,’ Cade hissed. Dragging his leg behind him, he grabbed her and spun her toward him. He shoved her back against the wall, looming over her. ‘I said to open the damn supply closet.’
Her eyes widened further as recognition mixed with her terror. ‘You,’ she whispered.
‘You know who I am, so you know what I’ll do to you.’ He slung her toward the supply closet. ‘Open that fucking door!’
‘I can’t.’ She took a step back, holding one hand out, bloody palm up. As if that was going to stop him.
‘You’re lying. Open the closet. I need antibiotics.’
‘I’d open it if I could, but I don’t know the combination. Only the doctor can dispense medication.’
‘Then get the damn doctor to open the door.’
Her eyes flashed. ‘You just shot the damn doctor.’
Fuck, fuck, fuck. ‘Then call another one. And fast, before your lover boy over there bleeds out.’
Her nostrils flared. ‘Let me get my phone. It’s in the pocket of my top. In the exam room.’
He motioned with his gun. ‘Then go. Now.’ He followed her, picking his way around the bleeding man on the floor, making sure to stay out of his reach. Just in case he was playing possum.
He didn’t appear to be, though. The woman gave the doctor an agonized look, a sob rattling in her chest.
‘Keep going,’ Cade ordered. She stumbled forward, going into the first exam room on the left. She headed for her scrubs top, but Cade spied her cell phone on the counter. ‘Stop,’ he barked. ‘Your phone’s right there. Behind you.’
She stopped. ‘Thank you,’ she said stiffly. She walked toward the counter, her face an impassive mask. When she got there, she slowly reached for the phone with her left hand, then yanked at one of the drawers with her right.
She wheeled around, her arm raised high, and Cade saw the glint of a blade just in time. He grabbed her wrist and squeezed hard until she dropped the scalpel with a cry of pain. It clattered to the floor and he twisted her arm behind her, shoving the barrel of his gun at her head.
‘Don’t fuck with me, lady,’ he growled. ‘Open the damn supply closet.’
‘No,’ she seethed, breathing hard. ‘You’ll kill me either way, so why should I?’
Then she did a move he was not expecting, twisting her body so that she almost broke free. She kicked at his knee and he swore.
And shot her.
She dropped to the floor and he cursed. Now he’d never get the damn door open. He sank into the patient chair next to the counter and gave himself a second to regroup.
He needed a doctor. That was the most important thing. If he didn’t get medical help, he was going to go septic and die, and that was unacceptable. His gaze landed on the woman’s cell phone, still on the counter.
If she wouldn’t call a doctor for him, he’d call one himself.
He leaned forward and grabbed her phone, then reached for her hand, now limp. The phone was an old-style iPhone with the button at the bottom. Hoping she used fingerprint ID, he pressed her index finger to the button and breathed a sigh of relief when the phone unlocked.
He quickly found Novak, Dani in her contacts. But what to say? He’d need to text, of course. Something that would make Dani hurry to the clinic.
Preferably alone, without her bodyguards. Which there was no way she’d do. She wasn’t stupid.
Unless . . . He looked at the next name in the woman’s contact list.
Novak, Greg. Dani Novak’s little brother, the dog-walker who was deaf.
I can do something with that number. Brother and sister would most likely use texting as their primary communication, so neither would think twice about receiving one.
It might work. Then again, it might bring the FBI and the entire Cincinnati PD down on his head. Prison would be a sure thing.
His vision
abruptly blurred. He didn’t want to know what his body temperature was at the moment. All he knew was that he had to try to get Dani Novak here, or he wasn’t going to live long enough to make it to a holding cell, let alone drive to Canada.
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday, 19 March, 6.15 P.M.
‘And we’ll go back, right?’ Joshua asked for the tenth time. ‘We’ll go back for Storm, right?’
Dani looked over her shoulder to where Joshua sat in the very back of the windowless FBI van in his booster seat, and patiently answered as she had the previous nine times. ‘Yes, we’ll go back. Storm isn’t ready to leave her mom yet anyway. Delores said she needs to drink her mama’s milk for another week.’
Dani hoped like hell that all this would be over by then, and they’d be back home. The outing had been necessary for the boys’ mental health, but it had been a bitch to plan and execute. They’d taken two different vans from the Mount Adams condo to Delores’s shelter in the northeastern part of the city. Troy drove their van, with Diesel riding shotgun. Literally, she suspected.
He wore a loose-fitting sweatshirt today instead of the tight T-shirts he seemed to prefer. She had the feeling he was wearing a weapon under the sweatshirt, but she wasn’t asking. She didn’t want to know and she didn’t think Troy wanted to know either.
Besides, Diesel had a concealed carry permit, so on this he was actually legal. She wasn’t going to complain either way, because Michael was sitting beside her, looking more peaceful than he had when they’d left the condo. The firepower in this van and the one that trailed them had enabled that to happen.
The other van was being driven by Agent Parrish Colby, a newer addition to their circle of friends. He was more Meredith’s friend than hers, but Meredith trusted him and that was good enough for Dani. Colby was accompanied by one of the other agents who were on guard duty at the condo today. They’d left one man behind to ensure that the apartment remained secure.
Dani didn’t want to think about how many strings her brother and cousin had needed to pull to get them this kind of coverage. Although she suspected that Troy was volunteering his time. He hadn’t left them since he’d arrived at the condo Monday morning, sleeping in a chair by the front door overnight.