Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
After months of work, the Drug Interdiction squad was no closer to shutting down the local meth labs.
Although they had located two, both had been abandoned, and Captain Lacey was beginning to suspect a leak somewhere in the department.
Regardless, they were still checking all leads, no matter how slim.
Today, Jackson and Will were following yet another tip from Zach.
He’d given them three before that had all been dead ends.
Will had argued that they shouldn’t bother with him again, but Jackson wanted to try once more.
This time, something seemed different about him.
They were headed to an address on The Paseo that had not yet been redeveloped.
The house looked rundown, and the yard was dirty and overgrown with weeds.
They parked down the block and put on their vests and comm units before getting out of the car.
A child of about five was playing with a small truck in the front yard, and as soon as he saw them, he grabbed his toy and ran toward the back of the house.
Will started to turn around. “Where are you going? We haven’t checked the house yet,” Jackson said.
“No one is stupid enough to cook meth with a kid in the house,” Will countered.
“I’m not so sure. Tweakers will take a lot of risks,” Jackson said. “Let’s get closer and see what’s happening.”
Will turned back reluctantly. “Okay, you take the back. I’ll see if anyone answers the door.”
Jackson circled around the next-door neighbor’s garage so he could get behind the house without being spotted. The backyard looked like the front but with taller weeds. The boy was in the back corner, lying down flat, trying to hide.
“No answer. What have you got?” Will asked, his voice slightly distorted over the comm unit.
“Checking now,” Jackson replied.
A window was open, and he edged along the building toward it.
As he got close, he recognized the smell of meth cooking.
He had to hold his breath to keep from coughing and betraying his presence.
He backed away from the house to the other side of the garage before checking in with Will.
“It’s a go. I can smell it cooking. Back off and call in the cavalry. ”
“Will do. Get back here, pronto.”
“As soon as I get the kid. We can’t leave him here. The place could blow sky-high any minute.”
“You know the orders. Stand clear, Cagney!”
“I’ll be with you as soon as I’ve got the kid.”
Jackson headed to the weeds, straight to the little boy. He was risking exposure if whoever was inside looked out. The child didn’t move and was lying face down with his truck tucked tightly between his arm and body. Jackson touched his back gently, and the boy turned his head.
Jackson held a finger to his lips and whispered, “I’m a policeman, and I think something bad may happen. We need to get out of here. It’s a secret, so we must be quiet.”
Jackson crouched in front of the kid to appear less threatening. The boy’s look of fear reminded Jackson of Josh. He had to keep him from running into the house. Jackson could feel the danger in the air.
The boy looked from his face to the truck he was clutching and back up with a wariness that shouldn’t be on a face so young. Jackson had to tamp down his urgency. He was losing precious seconds, but he needed the boy to trust him.
“That’s a beautiful truck, kiddo. Do you like trucks?”
The child looked down at the red Tonka dump truck he held and nodded.
“I have a big car, a real police car, do you want to take a ride?”
A hint of a smile and a nod was the answer Jackson got.
“My name is Jackson, what’s yours?”
“Mikey.”
“Okay, Mikey, let’s go for a ride.”
The boy looked at him unblinking, but he let Jackson pick him up. Jackson got a firm grip on the small stiff body and moved toward the front of the house. The boy smelled of peanut butter and dirty clothes. He was small enough that Jackson was surprised he wasn’t wearing a diaper.
Jackson started for the front of the house going around the opposite side this time.
He wanted the shortest route. As he got to the front, an explosion roared behind him.
He thought about turning around but a huge force propelled him upward.
He held onto Mikey with all his strength, tucking the boy’s head under his chin.
For a moment, he seemed to be airborne and thought he should try to roll to keep the boy from hitting the ground first. He never got the chance.
His head hit the sidewalk and everything went black.
Paula knew something was amiss the moment she stepped out of the conference room.
She’d been wrestling with a difficult report and had gone there to escape her phone.
On a normal day, the station buzzed with energy, conversations, the clicking of keyboards, and laughter.
Now, people were huddled together in small groups, talking in hushed tones.
A few phones rang in the otherwise eerie silence that lay over the room like a heavy blanket.
Paula went to a nearby colleague. “What’s going on?”
“Explosion in a meth house. One of our guys got caught in the blast zone saving a kid,” was the clipped answer.
“Fuck! How bad? Who?”
“From what I hear it’s bad, head injury and who knows what else. It was Jackson Cagney from the Drug Squad. He had his vest on at least, and he saved the kid.”
If he’d punched her in the face, she couldn’t have been more shocked. “J-Jackson.” Paula felt like her world stopped right there.
She grabbed his arm, not caring that her fingernails dug into his skin. “Where did they take him?”
“The kid?” He looked baffled.
Her instinct was to shake him, but she held herself back and answered through gritted teeth. “No. Detective Cagney.” Mentally she added ‘moron.’
“Oh.” He shot her a puzzled look. “Cagney’s at Truman, and the kid’s at Children’s Mercy.”
Without a backward glance, she spun around and rushed to get her keys. Jackson was in the hospital, injured, and she needed to be by his side.
Paula rushed to her car in the department parking lot.
She hadn’t bothered to put on her jacket, and a sudden cloudburst had her thin cotton blouse soaked before she reached her vehicle.
Paula pressed the remote button on her key and jumped into her car.
She had the Volkswagen Passat started and moving before she’d even fastened her seatbelt.
She struggled with the clasp as she backed out of her parking place.
As she reached the exit, she had to slam on her brakes to avoid colliding with a bike messenger who ignored a stop sign.
Any other day she’d pull him over for a safety lecture.
Paula passed a semi that was moving at a snail’s pace and had to brake again when the bonehead in front of her stopped for a yellow light.
Who did that? She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, impatient for the light to turn green.
Why did it have to take so long? The light changed, but the car in front of her didn’t move.
What the— Paula slammed her hand against the horn, and the driver in front of her jerked.
He started moving, and as soon as she could, Paula swung her car around him.
She threw an angry glance at the driver through the side window only to see the asshole talking on his phone.
No wonder his driving was so bad! Phones were distracting and had recently been made illegal to use while driving.
An eternity later, Paula drove the Passat into the parking garage at Truman Medical Center, relieved when she found an empty spot right away. She parked and reached the emergency department in under five minutes, which must have been a record.
Paula slowed her pace and marched up to the registration desk. “Good afternoon,” she said with a firm but polite tone. “Could you please tell me what room Jackson Cagney is in?”
“Mr. Cagney is in ICU,” the receptionist said. “You’ll have to find out up there if he’s allowed to have visitors.”
“Can you tell me how to get there?”
“Take the elevator at the end of the hall to the fourth floor. Turn left and follow the signs.
She arrived at another information desk at the entrance to the intensive care unit.
Again, she asked for Jackson, and this time was directed inside to the nurse’s station.
The ICU was full of noise, and everyone seemed to be either in motion or on the phone.
She went to the counter and drummed her fingers on the desk until the nurse finished her call and looked up.
“I’m Detective Sergeant Paula Stone. I’d like to see Jackson Cagney, please. Could you tell me what room he’s in?”
“I’m sorry. Only family is allowed at this time,” the petite woman said.
Paula gritted her teeth. Damn hospital privacy rules.
She needed to be with him! “I’m his fiancée.
” She hoped the nurse couldn’t tell it was a lie.
The woman’s gaze slid to Paula’s hand, lingered on her bare fingers, and came up to her face.
The nurse straightened her shoulders, and Paula braced for a rejection.
Then a mischievous smile broke out on the woman’s face.
“Of course, Detective Stone, Detective Cagney’s is in room 4045.
I need to check in on him. Come this way.
” She started heading down the hall and threw over her shoulder, “Head injury patients shouldn’t be left alone, regulations my ass.
Make sure to get that ring on your finger before anyone else notices, otherwise we’re both in big trouble. ”
Paula grinned at her, despite the grim situation, and followed the nurse to Jackson’s room. The woman in scrubs halted at the second glass door on the right in a wide hall and turned toward Paula. “Don’t be alarmed by the sight of him.”
Paula nodded—“Thank you”—and peered at the name badge—“Molly, I really appreciate this.”
Molly gestured. “Go on in. I’ll do a quick check of his vitals and then I’ll leave you alone with your fiancé.”
Despite Molly’s warning, Paula was shocked at the sight of him.
His big, muscular body was splayed out on the bed, and he was covered by a thin blanket.
An IV line was attached to his left hand, and wires ran from his chest to a monitor, and some kind of gizmo was attached to the end of his index finger.
An oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth, and his beautiful face was marred with two blackened eyes and a bandaged nose.
Most shocking was a tube coming out of his chest that ran into a device half full of water.
“Oh, Jackson.” Paula rushed over to the side of the bed.
Molly adjusted Jackson’s IV and checked the readouts on the monitor before going to the computer to enter her notes.
She turned to Paula and spoke quietly. “He hasn’t regained consciousness yet.
We’re monitoring his vitals closely. Luckily, he’s young and in good shape.
He wasn’t inside the building when the place went up, but he got hit by some debris trying to get clear of the house.
His vest took the brunt of the impact or his injuries would be much worse.
Because he was carrying the child, he couldn’t brace for the fall.
The CT scan of his head didn’t show anything beyond his broken nose, so on that front things look good.
He also has a pneumothorax—a collapsed lung—from a broken rib he sustained in the explosion.
That’s been resolved without surgery, but the chest tube has to stay in until we’re sure his lung is properly inflating.
Something hit his left thigh and fractured his femur.
We’ve got it immobilized, but surgery will have to wait until he regains consciousness or we’re sure he’s stable.
” Molly patted her shoulder. “I’ll let you know as soon as I know more.
” She left and slid the door closed behind her.
Paula turned her attention back to Jackson.
“Damn it, Cagney. You need to wake up. We never went to that shibari class you promised me. I— I never told you that I love you.” Her voice broke and tears pooled in her eyes.
She picked up his limp hand and held it to her cheek.
“I need you, Jackson— Sir.” For the first time, Sir sounded right to her.
She tried it again, feeling braver now. “I need you, and I love you, Sir. Please get better.”