Hide My Light: A Romantic Suspense Thriller Novel (Hide Me Series Book 3) (9 page)

West took the stairwell back down to the emergency room. The stairs gave him time to think. Who did he know in the hospital that he could trust with a request like this? No one that had the proper authority, really. It had to be a doctor who wrote the order for him. He didn’t have any good doctor friends.

He pushed open the stairwell to the first floor and walked through the double doors into the emergency room. Most of these nurses knew him and the ones who didn’t probably figured he belonged, since he was still wearing the scrub shirt and they'd seen his face before. He found the bathroom where he had hidden his bloody shirt and walked inside, hoping it would still be under the trashcan. It was, and he picked it up, then went back out into the hallway.

Doctor Reyes walked his way, carrying a patient chart in one hand. She stopped when she saw West and raised one brow as her cool eyes appraised him.

West swallowed his nervousness. She was as good of a person to ask as any. She was already suspicious of him anyway. “Doctor Reyes, I need a favor.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment and West started thinking frantically of who else he could approach.

“Let’s hear it,” she finally said.

“Can you order a chest x-ray for me?”

Now both of the Doctor's eyebrows raised and she looked pointedly at the bloody shirt in his hands.

West waited for the inevitable questions. He had no idea what he was going to say.

Instead she surprised him. “Sure, but when this is all over, I expect you to come back and tell me the truth. The whole truth.”

West breathed deeply in relief. “You won’t believe it,” he said.

“Try me,” Doctor Reyes said and continued down the hall, motioning for West to follow her. She grabbed a piece of paper from a bin against the wall and check marked a box, then scribbled her signature and handed it to West.

“Thank you Doctor, I appreciate it.”

“Just don’t forget your promise.”

West nodded and rushed towards x-ray.

When he got there, the technician, a young man of about twenty-five with long brown hair and a circular band aid on one side of his nose, was sitting behind the desk playing on his phone. West was glad things were slow. Maybe he could get in and out of here quickly. He pushed the order across the desk to the technician and breathed a sigh of relief when the technician took one look at it and motioned for him to come back through the door. The technician led him down a narrow hallway to a darkened room where a monster x-ray machine sat, with metal tentacles that could easily be moved about the room.

“OK pops, take off your shirt and put on this here gown,” the technician told him, then stood and watched him expectantly. West stripped the scrub top over his head, then put on the gown, wondering why they were even bothering with it.

The technician took a heavy drape off a hook on the wall and handed it to West. “Hold these in front of your jewels.”

West blinked at him, wondering why everybody was making him feel so old today. Then he realized what the technician wanted. He held the heavy drape in front of his body, protecting his “jewels” from the radiation.

The technician retreated to a tiny alcove set in the corner of the room and started pressing buttons. “Hold still,” he called and within a few moments it was all over. The technician came and took the drape back from him and hung it up on the wall as West saw his chest x-ray come up on the computer monitor across the room. He could see the bullet in his chest from where he stood.

The technician walked back over to the monitor and looked closely at it. “Cool pops, is that shrapnel?”                                         

West stared at the tiny, twisted piece of metal in his chest, imagining he could feel it in there. “Yeah, from Nam,” he said distractedly.

The technician made a muted sound of approval and pressed a few buttons. “You need a hard copy?”

“Yeah,” West told him.

The technician clicked once with his mouse. “Coming right up.”

The young man laughed. “You sure were lucky, another half inch to the left and it would’ve torn a hole in your heart.”

West clutched his chest convulsively. Had it torn a hole in his heart? Is that what Katerina had needed to fix? And had she done it somehow with her own heart muscle?

“Why did they leave it in?” the kid asked.

“Because I would’ve died otherwise,” West whispered, marveling again at what Katerina had done.

When the technician finally brought him his x-rays, West took them gratefully, and carried them and his bloody shirt back up to the room. He pushed the door open and found Jordan in exactly the same position that he had left her.

Jordan looked back at him. “She hasn’t moved,” she said. “I’ve been talking to her, but she hasn’t responded at all.”

West took his items to the small alcove by the window and put them down, then returned to his spot in the chair next to Katerina. He held her hand and stroked it continuously. How had she done it?

“Thank you Jordan. We'll be here if you want to go back to Blaise. I’ll call you if anything changes.”

Jordan nodded and West saw the indecision on her face.                                          “Go,” he told her. “Come back in the morning, or I’ll call you, I promise.”

Jordan came around the bed and gave him a hug. “You OK?” she asked.

“No,” he answered and meant it.

As the evening shifted into deep night, West watched the clock and wondered why agent Craig Masterson had never returned to talk to him. Finally, he slept fitfully with his head on the bed rail and his fingers entwined with Katerina’s. In his sleep, he imagined that she awoke and explained everything, then healed her own heart, and then they snuck out of the hospital together, to leave Westwood Harbor and all of its problems forever.                           

Craig Masterson looked up at the nondescript circular clock on the wall, over the medical examiner's head. Anything to keep his eyes from looking at what the doctor was doing. It was 11:30 at night, and the autopsy had been going on for fifteen minutes already. Craig flexed his knees slightly and tried to remember how long one of these took. He hadn’t had to attend an autopsy in years.

The doctor in front of him shook his head and sucked irritatingly on his teeth. He muttered lightly to himself. “This is impossible,” is what Craig thought he said.

“What?” Craig asked.

“Look at this," the doctor said, lifting something horrifyingly red and liquid out of the open chest before him.

Craig gritted his teeth and forced himself to look. He hated this part. He didn’t understand how doctors and paramedics did this. His own wife always said blood and body parts didn’t bother her at all. But they bothered him.

“What about it?” he asked the doctor of the unidentifiable piece of tissue he was holding his hand.

“That’s his heart,” the doctor said as if speaking to an idiot.

Craig looked closer. He was no expert, but he had a pretty good idea what a heart should look like. And it was nothing like the bloody mass of flesh in front of him.

“What happened to it?” Craig asked.

“It’s … exploded, I guess would be the best way to put it, but there is no damage to the chest or the back.”

“So how did it happen?”

The doctor shook his head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense. Even if someone used some sort of a directed energy weapon, it would have affected the muscle tissue that it had to pass through, and I just don’t see any evidence of that. The only thing that seems to have been affected is the heart.”

Craig kept his mouth shut. He knew the doctor was talking about things the military was developing and testing, but he didn’t know that civilians knew about them. Microwave weapons, lasers, and pulse energy projectiles. But nobody outside of the government should have any sort of access to something like that. And certainly not here, in a major US city. Those things were being tested overseas, at war, not on the civilian population.

The doctor went on. “However, I suspect we will find something similar when we open up his head.”

“His head?” Craig said limply, his eyes on the huge bone saw on the table.

“Yes – see that fluid coming out of his ears?”

Craig saw it. He knew what it looked like. Suddenly he didn’t want to be having this conversation. “Uh, Doc, I think I better read this in the report,” he said quickly as he rushed out of the room. He thought he heard the doctor laugh lightly behind him.

Laugh all you want old man
, Craig thought.
I ain’t coming back
.

Craig found the bathroom and splashed some water on his face, then retreated to the morgue waiting room. He was the one who had asked for this emergency autopsy. They had captured the two men who had been in the van when Kane had
died
and their story was too incredulous to believe. They said Katerina Holloway had killed Kurt Kane with a touch. He shook his head, trying to figure out what they thought they could gain with a story like that.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and sat down to wait for the doctor, calling up the police reports that he had requisitioned - he would read about Katerina Holloway’s involvement with the serial killer cases and see if they shed any light on what was going on now.

Thirty minutes later, Craig stood up and paced through the waiting room. He had read over what the police officer said Dylan Phillips had ended up like and he couldn’t believe it. Even after looking at a picture of the man, he still didn’t believe it. Melted? It was completely unbelievable. And yet, it was the only thing that explained everything.

***

At 1:30 in the morning, Craig let himself quietly into his house, took off his shoes and tiptoed to his bedroom. His wife had to work in the morning and he didn’t want to wake her. He pushed open the bedroom door and saw her strawberry blonde hair fanned out across the pillow. He smiled at the sight, then prepared for bed.

As he slipped into the bed next to Emma, she murmured sleepily and reached for his hand.

“You’re late,” she whispered.

“Sorry, babe,” he said. “It was a crazy day.” He thought for a moment and then decided he might as well tell her now. “I've got to fly to LA tomorrow.”

She turned over in bed and blinked at him. “Why?”

“Your paramedic? Katerina Holloway. The police report says she melted a guy. I have to see this guy for myself.”

Emma snuggled into his chest. “She was fired today.”

“Oh, crud, that sucks. She’s having a really rough time. Did you know she’s in the hospital?”

Emma sat up, her eyes wide. “No, for what?”

“I’m not sure yet. Some sort of collapse.”

Emma shook her head. “I have to go see her tomorrow,” she said. She leaned forward, pinning her husband with her stare. “You do right by her, Craig. She deserves it.”

“I hope I can, babe. I hope I can,” he said, his thoughts wondering if what was waiting for him in LA would change his mind at all. If it wasn't already changed.

West woke early the next day when the new shift nurse came in for her first checks. His neck ached from sleeping sitting up. He should just climb in the bed with Katerina, but he knew the nurses would throw him out if he tried that.

As soon as he woke, he checked all of her vital signs with the nurse. “She’s not getting any better,” he said under his breath.

“Well she’s not getting any worse,” the nurse replied with a sunny smile and then left the room.

West made a face after her. He looked down at Katerina and sighed. He was reminded strongly of the last time she had been in a hospital bed just like this, in a coma just like this, that they couldn’t figure out, just like this. He squeezed Katerina’s hand and whispered, “I’m here, Katerina, you just rest. Come back to me when you can. I'm not going anywhere.”

He remembered his dream from the night before and actively tried to recall the feeling of it. Whisking her way to a tropical island somewhere. Forgetting that the outside world existed. Just letting her rest and be happy and be free, and not touch anybody, ever. Except for him.

He massaged her arms, her hands, and her neck and brushed her hair back from her face. He just wanted her to know that he was there. That he was there and doing whatever he could to make her strong and healthy again.

A knock sounded on the door and Jordan peeked her head in, wearing the same clothes from the day before. West motioned her inside and she walked to the bed. “How is she doing?”

“The same.”

Jordan held her hand and spoke to her easily, just as she would have if Katerina were awake. West smiled. Jordan was good at this. Finally, Jordan turned her attention to West. “I’m going to run home and pack myself a bag. Can I get anything for you?”

West shook his head. He didn’t want to ask Jordan to go to his house. Blaise probably would miss her if she was gone too long. “How is Blaise doing?”

“Really great," she said with a tiny smile. "He’s up and walking around. He keeps telling the doctor that he wants to be discharged and the doctor tells him it’s impossible to be discharged the day after the kind of surgery he had, but he insists he’s fine and has no pain at all. He’s even refusing all of the pain medicine, can you believe it?”

West nodded. “Blaise is strong,” he said knowing that it probably had more to do with what Katerina had done for him, but he hadn’t explained that to Jordan yet. He didn’t want to do it here, now. He would tell her later, after Katerina woke up.

Jordan left and West dealt with a steady stream of visitors for a couple of hours. Emma came by, in uniform, saying she only had a few moments between meetings, but she dropped off a beautiful vase of flowers and some chocolates, for when Katerina woke up. West saw on Emma's face that she wanted to try to convince him to come back to work, but he tried to telegraph with his own face that it wasn’t going to happen. Katerina’s doctor came in and said very little, but seemed happy with her progress, or lack of it, according to West. Doctor Reyes also came in to check on Katerina.

Doctor Reyes saw the large white envelope that could only be holding an x-ray in the corner and walked over to it, unbidden. West didn't feel he had the right to stop her. She slid the x-ray out of the envelope and looked at it for a long moment. West watched her, holding his breath. When she came back to the bed and put a delicate hand on Katerina’s wrist, he knew the questions would come, but all she said was, “Remember your promise.”

West nodded, grateful that she hadn’t asked more. Between visitors, West talked to Katerina nonstop and rubbed her muscles. She looked less wasted today, but he couldn’t wait for her to wake up and eat and put some color back in her cheeks, some padding back under her skin.

At approximately 5:30 in the evening, Craig Masterson came in the room. West nodded at him in greeting but said nothing.
Here it comes,
he thought.

Instead, Craig came around to the side of the bed that West was on and held out his hand. “Sorry man, I was an ass. Sorry for not believing you and her. I was wrong.”

West pulled his head back and his eyes widened. That was not what he had been expecting. “Apology accepted,” he finally said. “What changed your mind?”

“I got the autopsy report on Kurt Kane. What happened to him was impossible.”

West nodded wearily. He didn’t want to know. He'd had his fill of unbelievable surprises for a while.

Craig dropped his head slightly to the side and gazed at Katerina. “Did she do it?” he asked in a quiet voice.

West just looked at him. He didn’t know if he could trust Craig Masterson. He liked his wife, but knew very little about Craig himself.

When Craig realized West wasn’t going to respond, he spoke again. “Look – it was self-defense, I get that. I’m not going to put any of this in a report. As far as I’m concerned, he died of a heart attack.”

West nodded, relieved. He hoped that on some level Katerina could hear this.

Craig dropped his voice again. “How do you think she did it?”

West shrugged a shoulder. “I didn’t see it,” he said. He didn’t want to say that he had been unconscious after being shot in the van. For the first time, he wondered about his blood. It had to be in the van. What if Craig asked him for a blood sample?

Craig stepped closer to him and dropped his voice even more. “Look, don’t tell anyone about what she can do.”

West looked at him curiously. Craig went on. “I went to Cedars-Sinai Medical Center today to see Dylan Phillips. The government is starting to sniff around him, they are apparently very interested in what he can do. You don’t want them to know about Katerina also.”

Terror gripped West’s heart. This was something he had never considered. The United States government with all its reckless power and total authority interested in Katerina’s abilities? What a nightmare. “Phillips is talking?”

“Not as far as I know. I didn’t get to speak with him, but I saw his doctor, and the doctor never said a word about Katerina.”

West nodded. He wondered how long that would last.

“I came by to let you know that we caught everyone. Now all we have to do is figure out who hired Kane in the first place. I have agents in the hospital and on this floor, but I don’t think they’ll be needed. I think you guys are safe.”

“Thanks,” West said. He thought the same thing.

Craig stepped back and looked West in the eye. “My money is on the national security director, Douglas Armstrong.”

“He’s a suspect?” West asked.

Craig nodded. “I’ve interviewed him several times, and although he’s got great answers for all my questions, he’s hiding something. I just don’t know exactly what it is.”

West didn’t speak, lost in thought. If Katerina touched the guy, she could know what he was hiding. If she woke up.
Katerina, please come back to me
, he thought for the hundredth time.

Craig was watching him, seeming to expect something.

“Let me know if I can do anything for the investigation or for you,” West said.

Craig pressed his lips together and extended his hand again. “I’ll be back,” he said.