Truth and Consequences (23 page)

Weary shoulders aching, Kathleen lifted her head and studied the doctor. He stood a few feet away at the entrance to the surgical unit. Stacy Reese, her tear-stained face lit with relief, smiled up at him. Kathleen looked away, unable to stand it. Of course he would be okay. Jim Ed always was. Even locked away in prison, he’d be okay.

Jason wasn’t okay. He lay behind those heavy steel doors, too, and doctors were doing more than taking a bullet out of his shoulder. Somewhere behind those doors, doctors struggled to save his life. Radiating skull fracture. Hemorrhage. Possible brain damage. Death. The surgeon’s words swirled in her head, echoing.

But Jim Ed would recover fully.

Bitterness choking her, she looked up and for a moment met Stacy’s blank blue eyes. What kind of woman was she? Her children were at the women’s shelter, waiting for an emergency foster home, and she was here, supporting her husband. A murderer.

Maybe Jason’s killer.

A victim. The words whispered across the surface of her mind. That’s what kind of woman Stacy was. Another of Jim Ed’s victims.

Her mother patted her hand. “Honey, let me get you something to eat.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want anything, Mama.” Just Jason. Warm and alive, holding her close, calling her sugar.

She felt her mother move to peer at Altee over her head. “Altee? Can I get you something?”

Altee’s hand slid down Kathleen’s back in a soft, comforting sweep. “You know, some coffee would be great, Mrs. Palmer.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Altee leaned her head against Kathleen’s, tucking strands of hair behind her ear, a slow, soothing motion. “She needs something to do.”

“I know.” Kathleen swallowed against fresh tears scratching her already swollen throat. “I just…I can’t stomach anything right now.”

“It’s okay.” Altee’s lips brushed her head. “It’s okay.”

“No.” The tears burst free, strangling her, falling from her burning eyes. “It’s not okay. Not with him…oh, God, Altee.”

“Sshh.” Arms wrapped around her, Altee rocked her. “Don’t do this, Kath.”

Kathleen clung to her, sobbing. “I can’t lose him. I can’t.”

“You won’t. You
won’t
. He’s strong. You know that.”

A hand cradled her head, and she pulled back, glancing at Tick standing beside her. He’d changed clothes, his wet shirt and jeans exchanged for department polo and khakis. His dark hair fell on his forehead, looking as if he’d ruffled it in frustration more than once.

She brushed tears from her face, the skin raw. “Hey.”

He squeezed her knee. “Hey. Any news?”

“Yeah.” The bitterness poisoned her voice. “Jim Ed’s going to be just fine.”

“Well, he can be just fine behind bars. For the rest of his life. Thatcher rolled on him. Wants a deal in exchange for testimony.”

Anger burned in her chest. “Tell me Tom isn’t dealing with him.”

“Tom laughed in his face. Good thing, too, because Botine and I had already decided to kick his ass from here to Atlanta if he offered up a deal.”

“Good.” She clasped his fingers, grateful for the warm steadiness of his presence. “You were awesome today.”

He glanced away. “I almost got the boy killed following regulations.”

She remembered him taking a shot at Jim Ed and diving immediately into alligator-infested water to drag Jason to safety. He’d worked over Jason’s body, performing CPR until his arms shook with fatigue. “You saved his life, Tick. I won’t ever forget what you did.”

A flush colored his cheekbones. “Does this make up for running your cheerleading bloomers up the flagpole?”

“Yeah. I think that’s covered now.” A smile trembled at her lips and died.

He rubbed his nape. “Talked to Falconetti. She has Jason’s file. He had a couple of emergency contacts listed. Looked like army buddies of his. She’s going to give them a call.”

“Good.” Kathleen nodded and stared at her lap. Jason had been in there for hours now. Why didn’t they come tell her something?

More hours crept by. The waiting area slowly emptied—Chandler County deputies and GBI agents spoke to Kathleen in quiet voices and wandered out. Worried by her mother’s pallor, she convinced her father to take her home, overriding his reluctance by pointing out she didn’t need to be anxious about her mother, too. Tick settled into a vinyl chair and leaned his head back, seeming to doze. Altee held Kathleen’s hand and didn’t try to talk.

Kathleen prayed, bargained and wept silent tears.

The surgical unit doors remained closed.

At last the door opened and a doctor emerged. Kathleen leapt to her feet, Altee beside her. Tick unfolded himself from the chair. The doctor looked around the room and focused on Kathleen. “I’m Dr. Grady. Are you Jason Harding’s next of kin?” she asked.

“I…yes. He has no family.” Her knees trembled. She searched the other woman’s face and found only solemn compassion. Altee’s fingers tightened around hers.
Oh, God. He was dead.

The doctor’s mouth thinned. “Your relationship to him?”

This was not good. Next of kin and talk of relationships and no mention of his condition. Dots danced at the edges of her vision, and she struggled to breathe. “I’m…we’re involved.”

Involved. What a weak, ineffective word for what he’d become to her. He was everything.

Tears burned her eyes and she gripped Altee’s hand, a cool, steady lifeline. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“Oh, no.” Dr. Grady’s face softened, her mouth curving into a compassionate smile. “No, he’s not dead. We’ve just sent him to recovery.”

“Oh, my God.” Her knees liquefied, Altee’s supportive arm keeping her upright. She covered her mouth with shaking fingers. “Oh, thank You, God.”

“He’s in recovery, but he’s not out of the woods yet.” Despite the sympathy, Dr. Grady’s voice remained sternly realistic. “With any type of brain injury, well, you face a wide range of complications. And he’s at an increased risk of pulmonary problems because of the water inhaled. These first few hours will be critical.”

“I understand.” Kathleen didn’t bother to wipe away the tears. “May I see him?”

“From recovery, he’ll go to the surgical intensive care unit. Usually, the only visitors allowed are immediate family members.” She tempered the words with a smile. “I think we can let you have five minutes with him. I need to prepare you, though. His face is very bruised and there’s extreme swelling. He’s on a ventilator with the respirator breathing for him. His appearance might be frightening to you—”

“I don’t care,” Kathleen murmured. “I don’t care what he looks like.” She only cared that he still lived.

“It’s going to be a while still,” Dr. Grady said. “He’ll be in recovery an hour or so, maybe longer. You might want to grab something to eat.”

“Thank you.” Her voice threatened to break and she took a deep breath. “For everything.”

The doctor smiled and walked down the hall. Elated, Kathleen turned to Altee and flung her arms around her partner’s neck. “He’s all right, Altee. He’s going to be okay.”

“Yeah.” Altee rubbed her back in a soothing circle. “I heard.”

Her first glimpse of him drove away the elation. Tubes and monitors invaded his body, the bandages and bruising making him unrecognizable. He lay still as an open grave, the artificial movement of his chest in time with the hissing respirator making him seem like a grisly mannequin.

Kathleen touched his unresponsive fingers and remembered how they’d felt against her skin. She leaned close to his ear. “Jason, it’s Kathleen. It’s over. You’re safe.”

No movement, no change in the monitors, nothing to let her know he heard.

She feathered her fingertips along his jaw. “You did it, honey. Jim Ed and Thatcher are both behind bars.” He remained immobile under her touch, as though the very essence of him was far away, already out of reach. Touching Everett’s body had been like this. Her heart contracted, and she swallowed back a fresh wave of tears. “Jason, you have to get well. You have to wake up. I need you. You have no idea how much.”

The shushed click and hiss of the respirator answered her.

“What if I’m pregnant, Harding? I don’t want to raise our baby alone. You
have
to wake up. Do you hear me? You have to. You can’t let him win.”

“Ms. Palmer?” A nurse touched her shoulder. “It’s time to go.”

Kathleen nodded, loath to leave him, and leaned over, her mouth next to his ear. “Jason? I love you.”

A deep voice jerked Kathleen from an uneasy sleep. She blinked and struggled to an upright position. Her neck ached from its unnatural angle against Altee’s shoulder. Altee stirred as well.

Beyond the waiting room, a nurse guarded the ICU entrance. A man stood over her, arms folded across his chest, muscles in those arms tight under skin the color of rich Colombian coffee. The man was huge, at least six inches taller than the blond man behind him and almost a foot taller than the brunette next to him, who tapped her foot against the floor and glared at the nurse.

The guy with the broad shoulders leaned forward. “Look, lady, I’m telling you. We
are
his family.”

“We’re his brothers,” the blond man said. “And she’s his sister.”

The nurse didn’t look impressed, her narrow-eyed gaze moving from the tall black man to the thinner blond to the curvy brunette. “Brothers, huh?”

The blond spoke up again. “Half-brothers. And she’s adopted.”

“Shut up, Fish,” the other man ordered. “You’re not helping.”

“But—”

“We just want to see him,” the first man said, his tone gentling. “Please.”

The brunette stepped forward, dark curls tumbling over her shoulders. “We’ve come a really long way. We won’t stay long or bother him.”

The two of them glanced at the blond. He threw out his hands. “What? You know I’m not any good at sucking up.”

A harsh sigh shook those impossibly broad shoulders. “Please?”

The nurse relented, sympathy softening the line of her mouth. “I’ll check with the doctor. She’s with another patient, so it may take a few minutes. You can wait with his other visitors.”

She walked away, her rubber-soled shoes muffled on the shining linoleum floor. The tall man turned his head, fixing Kathleen with a penetrating look.

Kathleen passed a hand over her burning eyes. They were obviously here to see Jason, but who were they?

The trio entered the room. The black man was the obvious leader and he moved with an ingrained sense of authority. Kathleen stood, brushing back her disheveled hair, aware of Altee at her side.

Kathleen forced a weak semblance of a smile. “You’re here to see Jason.”

One corner of his full mouth tilted in a grin. “Yes, ma’am, we are.” He held out his right hand. “Bull Jones.”

“Kathleen Palmer.” His huge hand enveloped hers in a firm handshake. He didn’t let go, but continued to eye her with a knowing expression.

“I see.” He chuckled, the rich sound filling the quiet room. “Hot damn.”

His reaction puzzled her, but she was too weary and heartsick to work it out right now. She pulled her hand from his and he gestured toward the others. “Fish Williams. Angie Francesco.”

She nodded, aware they stared at her with the same measuring expression. She half-turned, drawing Altee forward. “My friend, Altee Price.”

More handshakes and Angie stepped closer, low-slung jeans attempting to hang on to her hips. “Have you seen him?”

Kathleen nodded and bit her lip, determined not to cry again. “For a few minutes. He…it’s bad.”

Despite her resolve, her voice broke. Angie reached for her hand. “Hey. Don’t.” The remnants of a New Jersey accent lingered in her voice. “If anyone can come out of this, it’s Harding. The man can do anything.”

“Yeah.” A grin played around Fish’s mouth, but didn’t reach his blue eyes. “Leap tall buildings. Drag Bull’s huge butt out of a firefight. Eat Angie’s cooking.”

Angie elbowed him, hard enough to make him wince. “Put up with your sense of humor.”

The young nurse walked in. “Dr. Grady says you can see him for a few minutes.” The three moved forward as one, and she shook her head, smiling. “
After
she examines him again. She’s on morning rounds, so it’ll be about an hour. Go get some coffee or something to eat.”

Altee smoothed Kathleen’s hair behind her ear. “That sounds like a great idea. You’ve got to be starved.”

Not with worry gnawing at her stomach. There wasn’t room for hunger. Kathleen shook her head. “I’m not—”

“I don’t remember asking you. I’m telling you—you’re going to eat something. Now.”

Respect lit Bull’s shiny ebony gaze. “Damn, woman. I like you.”

Fish chuckled. “He has a thing for authoritative women.”

“At least he knows what authority is,” Angie muttered. “You’d think after more than a decade in the military, you’d have figured it out, too.”

“All right, children.” Bull chuckled again. “Let’s find the cafeteria and feed Harding’s lady.”

Kathleen darted at glance at him, finding that speculative glow in his eyes again. The force of them overwhelmed her. She could see Jason enfolded by this group of people, his makeshift family. People he cared about deeply, people who cared about him. He’d left them behind to go into a dangerous situation that kept him isolated, alone. A wave of admiration for the honorable man she loved cascaded through her.

The cafeteria was quiet and almost deserted at the early hour. A sleepy intern downed coffee while a couple of nurses chatted over eggs and toast. Kathleen let Altee bully her into choosing a muffin, a bowl of strawberries and coffee, echoing Angie and Altee’s choices. Fish’s plate held three times as much food as Bull’s—eggs, grits, toast, sausage and bacon.

They chose a corner table graced by a patch of early morning sunshine. Fish lifted a spoonful of grits and let them drip back onto the plate. “Dude, what
is
this?”

Bull forked up a mouthful of eggs. “Just eat it.”

Kathleen picked at her muffin and listened to the good-natured ribbing flying around the table. Under Altee’s pointed look, she took a small bite, the rich bread like Styrofoam in her mouth. She swallowed with difficulty and slid the plate away. Images of Jason’s bruised face, his shaved head swathed in bandages invaded her mind.

Bull covered her hand. “He did, you know.”

She looked up, blinking. “Did what?”

“Dragged my huge butt out of a firefight.” He pointed to his chest. “I took three rounds. Thought for sure I was dead. And here’s this scrawny eighteen-year-old private I’d known for two weeks running through heavy fire to get me to cover. Didn’t realize until later he’d gotten shot doing it.”

The scars on his shoulder and hip.

Fish gulped his coffee. “That’s Harding for you. Always in the middle of everything. Do the right thing, worry about the personal risk later.”

Angie nodded, her lips trembling under a soft smile. “They sent us out to help the National Guard with a flood one time. Bull and me, we’re filling sand bags. Jason and Fish? Shimmying down ropes from a helicopter to pull out stranded people.”

Fish laughed. “Then we found these radical whitecaps and went rafting. Dude, if we’d had boards…you should see him surf.”

“Dude,” Angie said, a mocking lilt in her voice. “You’re from Ohio, remember? Not the California coast.”

“It’s that time we spent in San Diego. I’m a transplant. Me and Harding? Born surfers.”

Lord, so much she didn’t know about him, so much she wanted to learn. She just needed a chance. She needed him to come back to her.

“Hey.” Tick set a cup of coffee and a half a pack of cigarettes on the table and pulled out the chair next to her. “How’s Harding?”

“The same.”

His dark glaze flickered around the table while Kathleen made quick introductions. He reeked of cigarette smoke. Kathleen wrinkled her nose. “God, Tick. Do you just spray the nicotine on now?”

He shot her an apologetic smile. “Stress. Chain smoking.” He lifted the pack. “Second one since last night.”

Fish pointed at him. “Dude, those things will kill you.”

Angie rolled her eyes. “This from a guy who jumps out of planes for kicks.” She looked at Tick, appreciation glowing in her luminous brown eyes. “You just need a new addiction. You know, to take your mind off the craving.”

Altee laughed, the sound weary. “Give it up, hon. He’s pining for a lost love, drowning his pain in a never-ending string of young, dumb blondes and empty flirtation.”

A deep flush reddened his face. “Damn it, Price.”

The levity grated on Kathleen’s raw nerves. “Tick. Where’d you go?”

He’d disappeared shortly after midnight. He aligned his lighter on top of the cellophane pack. “First, I went down to help subdue Jim Ed. He went off the deep end when he woke up. We strapped him to the bed.” A grim satisfaction lit his face, but died under a darker expression. “Then I went back out to Thatcher’s with Botine. They started draining the pond, but we’re dragging the bottom in the interim.”

“Oh, God.” A sick expression pinched Altee’s face. “What?”

He shuddered. “I have never…hell, none of us have. Loose bones. I can handle that. It’s the drums. Sealed fifty-gallon drums with remains inside. We’ve recovered nine of them so far. You don’t want to be around when they’re opened either. Ten times worse than an autopsy lab. I tossed my cookies after the fourth one.”

Kathleen closed her eyes, fingers pressed to her forehead.
Jason.

“We’ll start excavating the grounds later today. No telling what we’ll find.” He paused, rubbing his thumb along the rim of his coffee cup. “One of the barrels…well, anything fabric or leather is long gone, but the plastic and metal is generally intact. We pulled a driver’s license and one of those seventies-style ID bracelets out. It’s…it’s Harding’s daddy.”

“So he didn’t just leave him.” Angie’s voice was soft.

Tick shook his head. “No. He didn’t leave him. Thatcher and his boys probably got rid of him for some transgression or to keep him quiet. Looks like they took care of anyone who got in their way.”

“It’s over then,” Altee whispered.

“No.” Kathleen struggled to keep her voice steady. “It won’t be over until Jason wakes up.”

“Don’t worry,” Bull said. He exchanged a glance with his comrades. “We’ll wake his butt up.”