Hold on to Me (32 page)

Still cursing, Cookie pushed her hair aside. “Did you hit your head?”

She tried to remember. “No.”

A harried expression on his face, he pressed a handkerchief to her scalp. “Hey, Troy Lee! I need a medical kit. Damn it, Falconetti, don’t you dare faint on me.”

Her vision blurred and she blinked, scoffing at him. “I’ve never fainted in my life, Cook, and I don’t plan to start now—”

“Oh, shit.” His voice rang in her ears as everything tunneled to black.

Caitlin leaned her head against the pea-green wall, sending pain shooting through the stitches in her scalp. She had a deep hotline graze, courtesy of one of Schaefer’s wild shots, but she welcomed the discomfort, which drew her attention momentarily from the icy knot of worry and fear gripping her throat. Recounting the night’s events over and over again, for Stanton and Cookie, the GBI and then the two FBI agents dispatched from the Atlanta field office, had driven the numb detachment from her mind and emotions. In its place was a stark dread that Tick would die.

The waiting area outside the surgical unit overflowed with people—Tick’s family and friends along with what looked like the entire Chandler County Sheriff’s Department. The deputies huddled in small groups, their faces shocked, voices low. Tori and Tick’s brothers sat with their mother, whispering reassurances. Caitlin had spoken to them earlier, before being separated and questioned again by agents Hatcher and Jackson.

She stared at the double doors marked
No Admittance
, wondering what was happening on the other side. She knew Tick had blacked out before the paramedics had even loaded him into the ambulance. Upon arriving at the hospital, he’d gone from trauma to surgery within minutes. More than three hours had crawled by since.

Somewhere behind those doors, doctors also fought to save Jeff Schaefer’s life. She couldn’t care less one way or the other. He’d taken Gina’s life and he’d tried to take Tick’s. She shivered, closing her eyes.

Tick couldn’t die. He couldn’t.

Please don’t let him die. Please.

The simple prayer echoed through her mind.
He won’t. He’s too strong, too stubborn. He has too many people who need him.

She needed him. And he was always there when needed.

“How’s the head?”

She glanced up at Stanton. Her fingers fluttered over the neat row of stitches under her hair. The local had worn off, and the ibuprofen tablets she’d swallowed dry earlier did little to deaden the ache. “Fine, thanks.”

He proffered a paper cup. “Out of a vending machine, but at least it’s caffeine.”

“Thank you.” She rolled the hot cup between her hands, gaze straying to those double doors again.

“I just talked to Cookie. He and Troy Lee executed the search warrants on Jeff’s house. Kimberly Johnson’s driver’s license was in his dresser drawer, along with Sharon Ingler’s class ring. Nothing of Vontressa’s yet, except her cell phone.” He passed a hand over the back of his neck. “All of their phones, actually. And yours, too.”

“Souvenirs.” She sipped the strong coffee and grimaced at the sour taste. “To help him pull up the memories later.”

“They’re still looking. No telling what else they’ll find.” He cleared his throat and darted a look around the crowd. “You know Tick’s going to be okay.”

She swallowed the fear. “Of course he is.”

“He’s too damned stubborn not to be.” A weak grin curved Stanton’s mouth, although his eyes remained bleak and serious.

“Reed, you’re a lousy liar.” She crossed her arms over her chest, still balancing the cup in one hand. “You’re just as worried about him as I am.”

“Yeah. Did you know the GBI has a profiling section?”

The abrupt change of subject startled her. Wariness curled through her. “No, I didn’t.”

“Botine says one of the older guys is retiring in a couple of months. They’ll be looking for someone to fill that position. Bet they’d love to see your resume.”

“Gee, Reed, is this an olive branch?”

He sighed, hands braced on his hips. “You could call it that. I have the feeling if Tick gets his way, you and I will see a lot more of each other.”

Agent Hatcher approached, saving her from having to reply. “I hate to interrupt, but there were a couple of questions I forgot to ask earlier. Falconetti, do you mind if we step outside? It’ll only take a few minutes.”

She couldn’t imagine what he hadn’t already asked at least twice. Smothering the urge to tell him what he could do with his questions, she gave him a cool smile. “Of course.”

His “couple of questions” turned out to be another thirty-minute review of the evening’s events. Since Quantico, she’d heard horror stories of being the subject of an inquiry by the FBI’s Office of Professional Responsibility. The stories were true in one sense—the investigation was more stressful than the actual shooting situation.

“I think that’s about it.” Hatcher closed his pocket notebook with a snap. “If there’s anything else, I’ll call.”

Caitlin watched him walk to the hospital’s parking lot. She wrapped her arms about her midriff, drawing in a long breath of the moist, warm air. Eyes closed, she pulled up memories of Tick’s smile, his voice, his touch.

Please, please be okay. I can’t lose you, too
.

Footsteps clattered on the wide brick steps behind her. “Falconetti?”

At Stanton’s voice, she turned, searching his face, her heart jerking at the lines spreading out from his hazel eyes. He looked tired, worried, grim. “Is he—”

“The doctor’s sent word that he’ll be out to talk with the family shortly.”

She sagged with relief, but the tension rushed right back in. Talk with the family? Was that good, bad, what?

He swung a hand toward the doors. “Let’s go.”

The doctor was entering the waiting area as they arrived. With her first glimpse of his grim expression, Caitlin’s heart stuttered and fell. A warm clasp on her hand startled her and she turned to find Tori beside her, a reassuring smile on her pretty face. The younger woman slipped an arm about her waist and squeezed.

“That’s Jay Mackey,” Tori whispered. “He’s the ER trauma specialist and he’s a great doctor.”

“Mrs. Lenora?” Dr. Mackey strode toward Tick’s mother. She rose, one of Tick’s brothers on either side. The doctor gave her a gentle smile. “The surgical team is closing now. The bullet’s removed, but we had to take a small section of his lower right lung. That lung had collapsed—that’s why he couldn’t breathe earlier.”

Lenora covered her heart with one hand, a whispered prayer of thanks slipping past her lips. Caitlin didn’t relax, her gaze on the doctor’s face. There was too much stress in his expression, a stiffness that sent a sick apprehension through her.

“We…” Dr. Mackey’s Adam’s apple bobbed with a harsh swallow and he cleared his throat. “We had some complications during the surgery.”

“Complications?” The brother closest to Caitlin spoke, his face sharpening with worry. “What kind of complications?”

“Apparently, Tick suffered an allergic reaction to one of the anesthetics. The surgical draping tends to camouflage the first signs of that, as it did with him in this case. Our first warning was when he experienced tachycardia, an increased heart rate. While we were trying to stabilize that, he started having bronchial spasms, which increased the bleeding from the original wound.”

“Oh, Lord,” Tori murmured, her grasp on Caitlin’s hand tightening.

Dr. Mackey propped his hands on his hips, dropped his head for a moment and took a deep breath. “The renewed bleeding, combined with the blood loss he’d already experienced, put him into shock. We were worried about the possibility of circulatory collapse and cardiac arrest, but thank God we were able to stabilize him before that happened.”

Lenora nodded, her face dazed, her grip on her sons’ arms seeming excruciatingly tight. Caitlin concentrated on breathing and keeping her legs under her, since her knees seemed determined to turn to a weak, quivering mess. Tori pulled her tighter, closer, and Caitlin held on, thankful.

“He should be in recovery in a few minutes.” Mackey was speaking again. “He’ll be there at least a couple of hours, then we’ll move him to surgical intensive care. Once he’s in recovery, Mrs. Lenora, you can see him for a few minutes. Other than that, we’re going to restrict access to him until he’s in SICU.”

“It’s all right,” Tori whispered near Caitlin’s ear and rested her forehead against Caitlin’s temple. “He’s okay, Cait. He’s okay.”

Caitlin nodded, aware now of the silent tears slipping down her face to match Tori’s. She wrapped her own fingers tighter around Tori’s hand. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t force any words past the throbbing lump in her throat.

She wanted to see him, to touch him, so badly she ached with it, but for now knowing he was okay would have to be enough.

A crushing weight pushed on his chest. A bruising pain thudded through him with his pulse, and every breath sent sharp agony racing across his chest. His teeth chattered with the most incredible cold he’d ever experienced. He tried to open his eyes and failed, the lids too heavy. He listened to the murmuring of a male voice, the deep tones throbbing through his head. For a moment, he allowed the darkness to tug at him again.

A soft, familiar touch on his cheek pulled him from the depths. A hand lifted his, pressing his fingers against a damp face. Aware of his mother’s voice, he struggled to open his eyes again, to push words out through dry, cracked lips. “Mama, don’t cry. S’okay now. Don’t cry…”

Before the night was over, Caitlin went two more rounds with the agents from the Office of Professional Responsibility. Exhausted and with her professional patience gone, she less-than-politely informed Agent Hatcher what he could do if he had any further questions and went in search of Tori. Once Caitlin’s fatigued mind had processed the shock and anguish of Tick’s shooting, the agonizing reality of Tori’s situation had started to sink in.

She found the younger woman in the dimness of the hospital’s chapel, sitting in the third pew from the rear, head bent, forehead resting on the back of the bench before her. Caitlin slipped into the cushioned seat beside her and rested a hesitant hand on her shoulder.

“He tried to talk to me about Jeff earlier and I wouldn’t listen.” Tori released a shivery sigh and straightened, her eyes dry, features pinched with hurt and distress. “You know what his first words to me will be, don’t you?”

Caitlin didn’t have to ask who “he” was or guess what Tick’s sister thought those words would be. She reached out and with a tentative touch smoothed Tori’s hair behind her ear. “No, they won’t. He loves you too much.”

Tori pressed trembling fingertips to her eyelids. “Cait, this is bad.”

She could only imagine. She slid an arm around Tori’s slender shoulders and squeezed.

“I
dated
him. I was thinking about a future with him, kinda hazily, but still. I took him home to my mama.” Another long shuddery breath that shook her entire body. “I let him kiss me, let him…Lord, I need a shower.”

Caitlin laid her head against hers. “I’m sorry, Tori. I really am.”

“Yeah, me, too.” A self-deprecating, near-hysterical giggle rose between them. “Oh, this is going to be good. First, I had ‘rape victim’ tattooed on my forehead. Now, I get to add ‘dated a serial killer’. Bet the old biddy committee will have fun with that.”

“Oh, Tori, don’t do this to yourself. Please.”

“I am never dating again. Do you hear me? Never. Again.”

The familiar sounds of a leather gunbelt creaking and handcuffs clinking came from behind them followed by the clearing of a male throat. Tori tensed in Caitlin’s easy embrace.

“I’m sorry for interrupting.” Cookie eased into the row behind them. Tori didn’t look around, her head bent once more, but Caitlin shifted to face him. His sturdy countenance was drawn and tight. His sharp gaze, dulled by weariness and worry, darted to the back of Tori’s head before he met Caitlin’s.

“Stan says they just moved him from recovery to the ICU.” He spoke in a hushed tone. “Family can see him there.”

Tori nodded but didn’t lift her head. Caitlin took her hand.

“There’s an ADIC Frazier calling the station, looking for you, Falconetti. Wants you back in Quantico for debriefing tomorrow…” He glanced at his watch. “Well, I’d guess that would be today.”

Leave now? There was no way. “I’m not going.”

Cookie’s eyebrows rose. Tori looked up and moistened her lips. “They’ll censure you for that, won’t they?”

“Probably.” Caitlin lifted a shoulder in an offhand shrug. “I don’t care. I’m not leaving him.”

A soft smile crept over Tori’s face, for a moment chasing the awful blankness from her eyes.

“Hot da—” Cookie darted a look at the altar. “Dang.”

The second time Tick surfaced from the darkness, daylight peeked in between horizontal blinds. A steady beeping registered in his consciousness. A weird metallic taste wrapped around his tongue, his mouth cottony. The pressure in his chest remained to a lesser extent. Turning his head, he eyed the IV line running from above the bed to his hand, aware of more tubing invading his nose.

“Hey.” His brother Del leaned over him, smiling. “About time you woke up.”

His body lagged in obeying his brain’s commands, like a movie where the sound track didn’t fit with the movements of the actor’s mouth. Drugs. He lifted his hand for a moment to stare at the needle. “Mouth’s…dry.”

“I’ll bet.” Del moved away and returned with a foam cup. “Ice chips. All you get until they know you’re not going to be nauseous. Open up. I’ve had lots of experience feeding these things to Barbara.”

Cool heaven melted on his tongue. He touched the vinyl tube at his nose, the effort exhausting already shaky muscles.