Chapter Fourteen #3
“My mother didn’t understand the Marines or the CIA or any of what I did in Afghanistan and didn’t want to.
They loved jetting around the world and wanted me with them.
She had no frame of reference for my desire to have a greater purpose or the…
” Quaid cleared his throat. “…trauma that came with being in those dark, violent places. Probably similarities with Whit. He kept you in school, right?”
“Yes, and did what he could to keep me in college for the first couple years.”
“The thing rubbing my parents wrong was I grew up, too, and didn’t need them anymore.” Quaid closed his eyes for a second.
“When did you last see them?”
“Wylie’s funeral. I was still with the CIA, and we were burying Elizabeth’s Marine son. The whole time was a mess of arguments and hysteria.”
“Elizabeth?”
“Went silent. Much like Baxter’s mom has. My mother loudly expressed her grief and her cynicism of everything. Elizabeth hasn’t talked to them since.”
She knew what he was doing. Trying to keep her mind occupied so she didn’t spin out of control. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For cutting through the crap. Not the FBI agent right now.”
“Understandable. We’re almost there. Hold it together.”
Tane turned into the parking lot. Frank had indeed beat them, and one other QM car was parked beside him. The parking lot was empty, common for this time of day. Lunch was an hour off, and night hours started their busy time.
Quaid put a hand on her leg when she grabbed for the door handle. “Watch the surroundings. Let’s take extra care.”
She hated the reminder. “Not the time to make rookie mistakes.”
“No, it’s not. He could be out there, especially if your theory is true.” Quaid exited and took a long survey of the area, noting cars, trees, building heights, and noises. Tane was out and right behind him. “In the side door. One-two-three.”
Impatient, Alanna griped at him. “I’m not a protectee.”
“I beg to differ.” Quaid took her hand and helped her step to the pavement.
They hurried across the blacktop and skirted around the potholes, making for the side entrance with the Open Door Assistance Program sign.
The church’s white stucco walls, red tile roof, and small bell tower were surrounded by a sparse courtyard with cracked bricks and stubborn bougainvillea that had been there from when she’d used the place as a teenager.
She’d been obsessed with those pink flowers.
The parishioners maintained the building to minimal standards, but put everything else into the homeless services for the surrounding neighborhood.
The man who was their padre stood under an awning by the door.
Eli Navarro wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to forearm exposing tattoos and khaki pants with black boots.
He had the dark Latin features common to the ancestors of this area and must have been a young man when he’d taken over here. Mackey stood beside him.
“Father, this is Alanna Williams and Quaid Daniels. As I’ve explained, Alanna has known Whit for a long time.”
She decided Quaid had pampered her long enough. “Give me a brief. How bad is he?”
Mackey moved closer, covering her. “Mercer hurt him pretty bad.”
“We offered to take him to a hospital, but he wouldn’t go,” Father Eli inserted.
Mackey glanced around, then returned her gaze. “Brucker says the wounds have developed a staph infection. Cait’s on her way. He’s going to have to be hospitalized. Probably need surgery.”
Quaid stopped him there. “Can we use UCSD or can the med bay handle it?”
“Doc already nixed the med bay. She wants him in a hospital. Rapid response to the infection will be critical.”
“We should get prepped with 24-hour security until we can move him to our med bay. I don’t want Mercer getting to him or him walking out on us again. I’ll text Harrison.” Quaid shifted to take care of the task.
“Has he said anything?” She looked from Mackey to Father Eli.
Father Eli went first. “He didn’t tell us what happened.
Most of the people who come in injured are reluctant to say why and how.
I assumed a common street fight. They happen all the time.
He’s stayed to himself. Helped where he could.
We usually let those with injuries stay.
” He shrugged. “I heard rumors someone was searching for him. Didn’t realize it was you.
As an organization we tend to mind our own business unless we suspect a serious crime.
Whit wasn’t helping with facts, so we let it go. ”
Mackey checked traffic. “He wouldn’t say anything to me. But he’s feverish and not lucid. Delaney and Brucker are with him. So is Frank.” He tipped his head to the SUV pulling in the lot. “There’s Cait.”
Father Eli’s brows raised. “You have a lot of people here. It’s going to scare off our residents. Is there a threat to Whit?”
Alanna went blunt. “Yes. We’ll get him out of here as soon as Dr. Hunter says the word. I’ll take it from here.”
“Sorry to say this, ma’am. But the decision is up to Whit and the SDPD.”
“I’ll work with the police. He’ll get the care he needs. I promise.”
“How do you know him?” Mackey had stepped away to meet Cait. Quaid was on the phone. But mindful of Frank’s presence with Whit, she exposed a bit of what he was to her.
“He raised me on these streets. A long time ago.” She brushed past him and went into the building. She needed to see Whit before Cait banned visitors.
A young woman pointed her to another hallway when she flashed her badge. She followed the voices. Drucker’s medical bag was on the floor beside the last door on the left. She stepped around it into the doorway.
Whit had a weapon pointed at Frank.
What?
Frank’s hands were raised. “Drop the weapon, Whitaker. It’s not necessary.”
Whit snarled.
Alanna’s temper erupted. “Are you out of your mind?”
Her angry shriek startled Whit.
Brucker dived and disarmed him.
The tussle exhausted the man, and he dropped back, wheezing.
She stepped to the cot. “Are you not in enough trouble already?”
“You can’t be here.” The old man’s hoarse voice ripped a ragged hole in her heart.
“Tough. I am here. Search him, Frank.” It hurt to make the request. This man had protected her in the past, but covering everyone in the room was critical. They were her team. “Jesus, Whit, you have enough problems without shooting a cop. What are you doing?”
“You can’t be here,” he interrupted. “He’ll find you.”
She stepped to the bed and leaned closer. “I’ve got news for you, old man. He’s already found me and tried to kill me and a friend of mine. I will hunt him down, and I am going to end this. You either help me or get out of the way.”
Whit’s eyes widened, and he licked dry lips. The bloodshot orbs, pale face with graying whiskers, and shaking hands were more symptoms of a serious medical problem. “No, no.”
“Yes, yes.”
Drucker finished his search and came up empty handed. “Is that your only weapon?”
Whit’s eyes darted to the bedside table. Frank saw it and pulled the drawer. Hunting knife.
“What do you bet this knife is from the fight?” Frank slapped on an evidence glove.
Alanna shook her head. The knife was Whit’s standby. Always had been. “No bet. It’s Whit’s.”
“I’ve got to test it. We’ll get it back to you.”
“You’re leaving me undefended.” Whit coughed and groaned. “He came at me.”
Alanna paused to calm herself. “You won’t be defenseless. While you handle your medical, there are people – friends of mine – who will keep you safe.”
“And it starts with me.”
Alanna turned to find Cait Hunter standing in the doorway, her medical bag in hand. “Dr. Hunter.”
“Are you done interrogating?” Her disgust was written all over her face. She was always about the patient.
“Not interrogating. Talking this man out of doing something stupid.” She stepped away, avoiding Whit’s gaze. This was not the man she knew. Older, sicker, and more defensive. Those things didn’t add up in her mind to what she knew of him.