Chapter 46
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Pacing in the hospital lobby, I check my watch.
When I mentioned what I wanted to do today, my friend was more than happy to volunteer to meet me, despite my plans to do this at an uncomfortable hour, so the least I could do was meet her with coffee.
My cell vibrates, and I glance down before fishing it out of my pocket.
I opted to go casual in my black sweatpants and a pullover today—although these days, the goal is just clean clothes when our boys seem to create more laundry than I ever thought was possible for two tiny humans, not just their own clothes but anyone in their vicinity.
It's amazing, exhausting, yes, but experiencing this stage of fatherhood and watching my wife with our boys? I didn’t know this much happiness was even physically possible, and don’t get me started on watching our little girl love on her baby brothers.
Technically, I’m still on paternity leave for another seven weeks, even though I’m now involved in an active case. Thankfully, my wife is an angel and understands—and is also grateful that I was able to help her brother yesterday.
He’s my family too—and there’s nothing I won’t do for my family.
“Morning, Walker,” Dr. Harlow Lane calls out as she shakes some of the spring rain out of her damp hair. She’s in joggers, a dark T-shirt, and a light jacket, but soaked to the bone.
“Hey, Harlow. Did you shower after your morning yoga or just stand outside a few minutes too long?”
“Nice to see you too. I miss our morning chats, so much,” she deadpans until I hold up her coffee and she claps with delight. “Never mind, I miss them. And from Java Jive too? You’re the best.” Harlow takes a drink of her vanilla almond latte and hums in delight.
I nod toward the hallway we need to take. “I would have assumed you grabbed some en route, sorry for the early hour. At least there shouldn’t have been rush-hour traffic quite yet.” It wasn’t even six thirty a.m., but Harlow isn’t meeting my eye.
Interesting.
“Or … not?” I tilt my head at my friend.
“Can you hold this for a second?” She avoids my question, handing me her coffee while she pulls a hair tie off her wrist to throw her hair into a quick pony, squeezing water out of it in the process.
Why the hell is she so damn wet?
It’s raining, but I didn’t think it was coming down that hard out there. I glance out the hospital’s windows before turning back to her. “Seriously, Harlow, do I need to buy you an umbrella?”
“No, I have one in my car.” She reaches for her coffee, but before I can ask why she doesn’t have the umbrella in her hands, she changes the subject. The Queen of Redirect is holding court this morning in the elevator. “How do you want to play this?”
“Officially or unofficially?”
“Both.” One of the many things I appreciate after working with Harlow for so many years in multiple capacities is that despite our age difference, she is a loyal and faithful friend.
She has also become more like a family member after joining my sisters’ book club and becoming close friends with both my wife and sister-in-law over the last two years since Vivian came into my life and changed everything.
“Officially, I’m following up on my arrest yesterday,” I state plainly.
“And…”
“Unofficially, I want to make sure we didn’t miss anything else. They came for someone in my family, Harlow.” She nods and that’s enough for her.
Tinsley may not officially be one of ours yet, but I’d bet my shares in my family’s ranch that it’s only a matter of time—and not a long period of time—until Jack gives her his last name.
Of course we care about Tinsley, but Kane Daughtry has been coming after Jack for years, even going as far as trying to get involved with Savannah’s then-husband to try and drive a wedge in their family.
Rick Willson is obviously the mastermind, and his sister Debbie Jo is a conniving—and apparently, murderous—witch, but Kane Daughtry is a traitorous snake, and I want to make sure that he never touches nor harms someone in my family ever again.
From what I witnessed yesterday, I don’t think Kane is fully aware of the reality of his situation, so I’m here to illuminate the asshole.
What can I say? I like to be helpful where I can.
I am also going to make it crystal clear that Kane will stay the hell away from my family.
It’s not a threat—it’s an informative and educational meeting; I even brought a very smart doctor with me.
Sliding my free hand into my pocket, I pull out my badge, but it’s not necessary when I recognize the U.S.
marshal standing guard outside of Kane’s hospital room.
He nods at Harlow and me, opening the door for us and closing it once we step inside.
When Rick Wilson shot his accomplice yesterday, Wilson did enough damage to warrant emergency surgery, and due to the damage to Kane’s bowel, he gets to have the lovely accessory of a colostomy bag when he is transferred to a federal holding facility, likely in a few days once the doctors clear him to be moved.
Harlow spoke to someone on his medical team last night, and they expect him to get moved out of the ICU today, so long as there aren’t any complications.
But you know, shit happens.
Hitting the light switch to the full brightness setting as we walk in, I’m going to make sure Kane’s day starts out as shitty as possible.
“What the hell? I was sleeping!” he grumbles from the bed, covering his face with his free hand. “Who the hell are you?”
“Good morning, Kane. We didn’t get the chance to meet yesterday as you were bleeding and unconscious on my brother-in-law’s floor, but my name is Special Agent Henry Walker Bennett, and this is my colleague Special Agent Dr. Harlow Lane.
We have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind and don’t have any plans,” I say as Harlow and I both take a seat in the only two chairs in the room along the wall facing his bed.
The man is handcuffed to the bedrail of his hospital bed, in addition to having a U.S.
marshal standing guard at his door, so it’s not like he will be having any social calls, and if he did, they probably would wait until after eight a.m.
“Doctor? You don’t look like any of the doctors I’ve met.” He narrows his eyes at Harlow, trying to figure her out.
She smiles politely, allowing him to make incorrect assumptions.
She loves to let people take as much rope as they want to hang themselves with their own misinformation and biases.
When I first met Harlow, I thought she was an intern, a fact she will never let me live down.
Adding her unassuming attire this morning, and what looks like minimal if any makeup, which is pretty standard for her, and I can only imagine the assumptions Kane is making about Harlow right now.
If you let people fill in the gaps with their own cognitive blind spots, and are aware of what those likely are, you can direct the narrative to an extent.
Their presumptions become a tool you can utilize, all with a smile—something Harlow taught me.
Kane likely thinks she’s a young kid that doesn’t know anything, but while Harlow may barely stand five-foot-four, she can read a room—and a person—faster than anyone else I’ve ever met.
She’s a great asset to our team, in addition to being a great friend.
“I assure you, I am indeed a doctor.” She smiles sweetly, reeling him in, which will just lower his defenses. I’m good with going this route—he obviously missed the clue I dropped about him bleeding on my brother-in-law’s floor.
“Oh, yeah? What kind of doctor are you, honey? Are you going to nurse me back to health?” Is this asshole flirting with Harlow?
My eyebrows furrow and I glare at him. Out of my peripheral vision, I watch Harlow sip her coffee and tilt her head, letting me know she’s okay.
We’ve worked together for close to five years in various capacities; the last two have been in Nashville on a special task force that focuses on high-priority targets.
“It’s Dr. Lane, and I’m a forensic psychiatrist and criminal profiler with the FBI, so while I’m more than qualified to help you get better…” She scrunches her nose, shaking her head. “No, I won’t be doing that.”
I don’t fight the grin. “You might need to speak in smaller words for him, especially this early in the morning.”
“Excuse me? Do you know who I am? I guarantee my IQ is higher than you, fed. Who do you think you are?” Kane raises his voice at me.
Good, get emotional, asshole. I just smile and slowly look at Harlow with a nod for her to continue.
“What are you even doing here? You aren’t supposed to be here. Get out!”
“Right, my apologies.” Harlow raises a hand in a placating manner.
“You likely took quite the head trauma yesterday when your accomplice knocked you out after shooting you too. My fancy title means I bring a unique perspective when it comes to understanding criminals, like you, your partner, his sister, and why they do what they do, which in most of the cases we work on also helps us try to stop them before another crime is committed. But you’re pretty tied up,” she nods to the handcuffs, “so I think we’re safe here.
But I would advise you to not call me honey again.
” She lifts her cup in a toast and I hold back my laugh.
Harlow hates when men she doesn’t know use terms of endearment that reflect a personal relationship they do not have with her, and I don’t know what happened to her this morning, but my friend is extra spicy today, and I love it.