Chapter 15 #2
A tense moment passed between them before Emmett intervened. “Janie got a call from a nurse here saying her friend from Missouri had been brought in. Devon Brighton.”
“That’s the case I was called in to work.” Boone nodded.
“What happened?” Janie begged the man to explain what was going on.
At that same time, a man came rushing through the Emergency Room doors with a young child. It was obvious by the way he was holding his arm that the little boy was injured.
“We need some help,” the guy hollered out to anyone who would listen. “I think my son broke his arm.”
“Let’s talk over here.” Boone motioned toward a small waiting area a few yards away.
“I want to see Devon.”
“And you will,” the detective promised. “But she’s still unconscious, and it would be helpful to the investigation if we could get some more information about Devon. Since you know her better than anyone here . . .”
“Okay,” she relented. “But if they come out and say she’s awake—”
“I’ll personally escort you to her room myself.”
Janie and Emmett followed the other man over to a section of empty chairs. They sat down with Emmett at her right and Detective Boone at her left.
“First of all, do you know why your friend is here, in D.C.?”
“I have no idea.” Janie shook her head, doing her best not to break down and cry.
“It’s been a few days since we last spoke, and even then, Devon never said anything about coming here.
” I would have remembered something like that.
“Oh, Devon.” Janie squeezed her eyes shut as Emmett wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side.
“What do you know so far?” The rumbled question was directed toward the other man.
“She was found beaten and unconscious a few blocks away. A witness at the scene said they saw a black panel van skid to a stop in the middle of the road. The side door opened, someone wearing all black rolled your friend out of the van, then they took off.”
A small whimper escaped her throat as Janie put a hand over her trembling mouth. She couldn’t keep the tears from escaping that time. Instead she closed her eyes and set them free.
Detective Boone spoke up again, his tone softer and a bit sympathetic. “You said you and Devon spoke a few nights ago. Can you tell me what the two of you talked about?”
She sniffed before wiping her face dry with her palms. Looking at Emmett, she searched for his guidance on what to share.
“We talked about a story I’ve been working on.” Janie kept her answer vague.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Emmett’s lips curved into a comforting smile. “You can tell him.”
“Are you sure?”
With so many D.C. players, it was impossible to know who to trust.
“Tell me what?” Boone asked.
But Emmett ignored him and gave her a nod. “Blake checked him out. He’s clean.”
If Emmett and his team trust this guy . . .
“We’ve been looking into Amy Weaver’s disappearance and subsequent murder.”
“Amy Weaver?” The D.C. detective frowned. “The intern they found in the Potomac a few days back? I thought she committed suicide.”
“Because that’s what they want you to think,” she told him with certainty.
Boone blinked. “And who exactly are ‘they’?”
Janie looked to Emmett, who quietly gave the other man the basics of what they knew.
What Blake had found with the apartment and hotel security cams. What Dr. O’Neill had discovered when they’d broken into Dr. Nguyen’s office.
Emmett even told Detective Boone about the safe house shooting, including the would-be assassin’s name.
When Emmett was finished with the unbelievable story, Boone sat back in his seat and sighed. “I knew shit like this was going to happen now that you were here.”
Janie blinked. “Who, me?”
“I was talking about him.” He pointed a thumb toward Emmett.
The man she loved sent the detective a deeply lined scowl. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, please.” Boone sat up straight. “From what I’ve heard, you R.I.S.C. guys always bring trouble wherever you go.”
“This isn’t Echo Team’s fault.” Janie was quick to come to their defense. “I’m the one who went to them for help. I’m the one who—”
She cut her own words shut.
It’s me. Devon was beaten and left to die in the street all because of me.
More tears welled in her eyes. “This is all my fault.”
“Don’t.” Emmett gave a vehement shake of his head. “Don’t do that to yourself. None of this is on you.”
“But it is.” Janie’s smile was shaky and without humor. “Devon . . .” She cleared her throat. “She’s like Blake. Super smart with technology and computers. She’s the friend who helped me find out more information on Amy.”
“I remember you telling me that not long ago.”
“So what are you saying?” Boone’s dark gaze bounced between hers and Emmett’s.
“The day I met Amy,” Janie began to explain, “I had Devon look into her. Just a basic background search. She does it for all of my sources.”
“You were vetting her,” Emmett assumed.
She nodded. “Other than being a part of the White House internship program, I didn’t even know what Amy was involved in. Just that she wanted to speak to a reporter about something that had her scared.”
“So you had your friend look into a woman who turned up dead days later, and now that same friend was attacked, here in the city? And you’re absolutely sure she never said anything about coming to see you?”
“I’m sure,” Janie whispered, before recalling something Devon had told her.
“That’s it.” Her gaze found Emmett’s. “When Devon looked into Amy’s background, there was nothing showing she had a history with mental health issues.
There were no red flags…nothing.” She shook her head.
“Which is further proof that those files they released to the public are fake.”
“So you’re saying there’s a Secret Service agent working with Press Secretary Daley in some sort of conspiracy to murder a White House intern? And because you were looking into her disappearance, they started gunning for you, and by proxy, they beat up your friend?”
“I know it doesn’t make sense,” Janie admitted softly. “But I’m telling you, it’s all connected. We just have to figure out what Amy knew, and then—”
“You aren’t going to do anything.” Boone stood.
“What do you mean?” Janie also rose to her feet.
“I mean, you’re not a cop.” To Emmett, he added, “And neither are you, for that matter.”
Emmett shrugged. “Doesn’t mean we can’t continue our own investigation.”
“It does if it puts you in the middle of mine,” Boone hissed. Leaning closer, he lowered his voice to its previously hushed level. “Trust me, Shaw. The last thing your team needs is negative press coming straight from the White House.”
The man beside her straightened his spine with a scowl. “One woman is dead; another was beaten unconscious, and someone tried killing us both.” He motioned to Janie. “You really think I’m worried about the optics right now?”
“All I’m saying is you need to be careful.”
“I’m always careful, Detective.”
Janie watched as the two shared a silent look that seemed to speak volumes.
“I’m sorry, Detective,” Janie offered quietly. “I know you want more answers. Trust me, we do, too. But right now, more than anything, I really just want to go see my friend. Please.”
Boone’s brown stare slid from Emmett’s to hers. “Come on. I’ll take you to her room.”
Relief struck for the first time since she’d been woken up by the terrifying call.
Boone turned and began walking toward a set of large, double-doors several yards away.
With a tip of his chin, he gave a silent order to the nurse working the reception desk, who pressed a button to allow them inside.
The air grew colder as they entered the hospital’s secured emergency department. Room after room lined the wall on their left. The large area in the center was a maze of desks used by the doctors and staff.
Directly in front of them was another set of doors marked Ambulance Bay in bright red letters.
Detective Boone slowed to a stop just outside one of the rooms. The large, glass window was covered by a blue and cream striped curtain hanging from the ceiling inside. The door was shut, but there was a smaller window built in its center.
Janie approached it slowly, her steps small. Cautious. Her hand flew to her mouth when she caught sight of her friend.
Oh, Devon. I’m so sorry.
“Whoever did this worked her over pretty good.”
The detective’s words were unneeded. Janie had eyes that allowed her to see.
Devon’s petite body appeared much smaller than it should have in the bed. She’d been tucked in tight, the white blankets keeping her lower half warm while her body recovered.
“Is she going to be okay?”
The bruises and swelling on her friend’s beautiful face made her wonder. From here, it looked as though the assholes responsible had beaten Devon within an inch of her life.
“The doctor said there’s no internal bleeding, which is good. A couple cracked ribs. Fractured jaw. CT was clear, but he said she could still have a mild concussion. They’ve given her something for the pain and are keeping her comfortable until her body is ready to wake up.”
“Any idea when that will be?” Emmett asked.
“Unfortunately, no.” Boone shook his head. “The doc said it could be a matter of hours, or a couple of days.”
“We have to find them, Emmett.” Janie adjusted the strap of her purse while staring at her injured friend. “We have to find them, and we have to make every single one of the bastards pay for what they’ve done.”
“We will.” He reached down and linked his fingers with hers.
Janie pulled away, not because she didn’t love his touch, but because if he tried comforting her now, she’d break down into a puddle of tears. She looked away, suddenly desperate for a moment to herself.
“Hey.” Emmett’s worried gaze attempted to reach hers. “What’s wrong?”
“Restroom.” It was the first thing that came to mind. “I, um . . . I need to find a restroom.”
A nurse walked by at that very same moment and stopped with a helpful smile. “There’s a private restroom for visitors at the end of that hallway.” She pointed across the nurse’s station. “It’s the last door on your right.”
To Emmett, Janie muttered a low, “I’ll be right back.”
The concern in his gaze made it clear he didn’t want to let her out of his sight.
“Really, Emmett.” I just need a minute away from you and everyone else. “I just . . .” Her voice nearly cracked. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be right here.” His eyes searched hers a moment. “Don’t take too long, yeah?”
“I won’t.” She flashed a quick smile before turning and walking away.
When Janie left the department’s main area, she discovered the hallway was longer than she’d expected. The small, one-person restroom was all the way down on the right, as the nurse had described.
Janie glanced back to find she could no longer see Emmett or the detective, which brought her a sense of relief. But it wasn’t until Janie was inside the restroom that she felt she could finally breathe.
Her back came to a rest against the door’s interior the second she turned the lock. Her head fell back, and her eyelids closed. And only then did Janie let the tears fall.
Not a lot, and definitely not enough to wash away her fear. For her friend. Herself. For Emmett and his team.
Amy’s death wasn’t on her. Janie fully understood and accepted that much. But what happened to Devon was her fault. The people behind this mess never would have gone after her if she hadn’t asked her to look into Amy’s disappearance.
You don’t know for sure this is connected.
Yes, she did, and while she couldn’t change what happened, Janie could try to make it right. Press Secretary Daley’s face flashed before her mind’s eye, along with that jerk of a Secret Service agent, Christopher Campbell.
Both men, along with Dr. Nguyen and that one fraud of a shrink were complicit in Amy’s death.
There were still a lot of questions, and though she and the members of Echo Team may not have all the answers, one thing was crystal clear.
Devon was attacked because they were getting close to the truth, which meant they couldn’t give up now.
Don’t think you’re going to make much progress hiding out in a hospital bathroom, though.
Janie opened her eyes and pushed herself away from the door. After using the facilities to buy herself just a little more time, Janie washed her hands thoroughly before drying them off and tossing the wad of paper towels in the trash.
A quick glance at her reflection in the mirror mounted over the small sink made her physically cringe. She hadn’t even considered her appearance when she and Emmett hauled ass here, but now…
Yikes.
In a rush, Janie grabbed a spare hair tie from her purse and fashioned her hair into a messy bun. Since there wasn’t much she could do about the red splotches around her eyes, she abandoned her reflection and turned off the lights before opening the door.
It snicked shut behind her as a man in scrubs appeared from around the corner to her right. He smiled, pushing an empty wheelchair across the tiled floor. Janie was struck with the sense that he looked vaguely familiar.
Their eyes met, and that’s when she knew.
It’s him!
It was the man from her hotel room. The one who’d broken in wearing that black ski mask and made her think she was going to die.
The greens of his eyes were what gave him way. They were cold. Uncaring. Completely void of any real emotion.
Janie turned to run, her mouth falling open with the intent of screaming for help. But her cries never made it past her parted lips.
Something sharp pinched the side of her neck, and Janie reached up with a slap of her palm. Her fingertips brushed against something there, still held in the man’s gloved hand.
A syringe.
Terror spiked through her system, turning her blood to ice. She tried fighting the man off, but her arms suddenly refused to work. A wave of dizziness struck as the world around her began spinning out of control.
The man grabbed her, forcing her body down into the wheelchair before securing her feet on the flat, metal rests. He spun them around and began pushing her down the hall, in the opposite direction as Emmett.
Please help me!
Janie tried screaming once more. At least, she thought she did. She was no longer sure about that or anything else. A tear rolled down her cheek unchecked.
The man continued pushing her farther away from Emmett and Detective Boone. Janie’s vision tunneled, and soon there was nothing left. Only darkness and the fleeting thought that her life had come to an end.