Chapter 11
“The layout is a square within a square,” Hank said, recalling details from his initial meeting with Julie. “Offices on the perimeter, lobby in the middle, surrounded by an inner square of offices. Walkways from the lobby connect to the perimeter hallway.”
Backup arrived fifteen minutes after he called Barstow, which felt like a fucking eternity. His muscles flexed as adrenaline flowed and he worked to keep himself in check.
“You’re with me,” Hank said to the tallest of the men. “You two take the other stairwell.”
“I want to come, too.”
He turned to Gwen. Anyone else, and he would have said no unequivocally. “Why?”
“I’ll be needed.”
He nodded. “Keep your gun ready. You are my shadow. Stay a foot behind me, one hand on my back so I know exactly where you are.”
She nodded.
Then they were moving, four flights dimly lit by security lamps and emergency exit signs, each of them on high alert.
Hank knew Julie was in danger. He could feel it in the marrow of his bones, as if the love he felt for her tethered them together on some cosmic level.
Would she be alive by the time he got to her?
The idea that he could lose what he had waited so long to find was incomprehensible.
Would he be able to save her or was he already too late?
Pushing the thoughts away, he brought his focus back to the steady rhythm of his shoes on the stairs beneath him. The last flight came into view, ending at a single black steel door with the Systex logo in royal blue.
The team emerged silently onto a long corridor with brown industrial carpeting. Hank recognized it as the outer perimeter hallway. At the other end, two doorways spilled light into the darkness. Just then, a sliver of someone’s head popped out and peeked in the opposite direction.
Was that Julie or McDowell?
The team inched forward, the men checking the offices along the way before giving the all-clear. It was a necessary step, but Hank itched to race toward the lit doorways, protocol be damned.
They were twenty feet from the same doorway when she emerged from it, walking away without ever turning in their direction.
Hank hesitated, unsure if McDowell would enter the hallway as well, when Julie turned into the second room. She was gone in a heartbeat, and so was his chance to alert her to his presence.
The smell of burned coffee reached his nostrils as he hovered close to the wall and inched toward the door. He heard McDowell’s voice trailing out of what must be the kitchen.
“You’ll never get there first.”
“What?” It was Julie, so close. Right in the next room. His palms were hot and clammy, his eyes fixed on the doorway as he forced himself to take deep, slow breaths.
“The gun. You’ll never make it to the gun before I do.”
He’s going to shoot her.
Hank’s grip tightened on his weapon and he gestured to the men, holding three fingers up in the air, a countdown to action. He gave Gwen a shake of his head, telling her to stay put.
“I’m trying to help you, Dad.”
He heard the stress in her voice, and knew that McDowell could hear it, too. Julie was running out of time. Two fingers.
“Of course you are.”
One finger.
The ring of the elevator interrupted his countdown, unexpected and loud.
Hank froze and the men looked to him for direction. Sounds of a scuffle came from the kitchen, and Hank rounded the corner, weapon drawn, just in time to see McDowell exit the room from a door at the opposite end of the galley.
Julie was held securely against his chest in the classic hostage position.
“Gwen, stay here,” he barked in a harsh whisper. “You two, take the perimeter hallway left. I’m going right.” He jogged back the way he came, passing the stairwell and continuing on to the lobby.
Who the fuck was in that elevator?
The thought mocked him as he ran, heading toward a back entrance to the same lobby McDowell just dragged Julie into. He would have the advantage of surprise, though he had no idea what he would see.
Ten feet from the final turn to the lobby, gunfire exploded, one bullet for each of the three steps he took too late. He rounded the corner and watched Julie’s legs bend and buckle under her lifeless form, collapsing at Gwen’s feet.
A tortured howl ripped from his gut as he charged into the lobby, sweeping his gun from side to side in the shadowy space. The slightest reflection off the metal elevator doors caught his eye as they slipped silently together.
He fired his gun and the bullets embedded themselves into steel, never coming near their intended target.
The other men charged into the lobby from the opposite direction, weapons drawn. “He’s in the elevator,” barked Hank. “Split up and take the stairwells, now! I’ll call for backup.” They took off running at Hank’s instructions. He dialed 911 as he rushed to Julie’s side.
She lay on her stomach in a thick pool of black blood. He heard a rhythmic wet sucking noise, which he realized with horror must be her breathing. Gwen worked Julie’s shirt up to see the damage the bullets had caused.
“I need an ambulance, quickly,” he said to the emergency operator, giving him the address. “And police assistance. A fugitive has escaped from the same scene.”
“I’m looking for Julie Trueblood,” Becky said, hearing her voice waver. “She was brought in by ambulance about an hour ago.”
She had been in hysterics since Gwen phoned, and knew her eyes must be bloodshot as all hell. The woman behind the information desk gave her a sympathetic look, clearly used to seeing visitors skirt the border between life and death.
“She’s in the ICU. Follow the signs to the blue elevators. It’s on the fourth floor.”
Becky swerved around people like pylons as she followed the blue ceiling tags to the elevator bank, only to find a crowd waiting for the next available car. She opened the door to the stairwell and bounded up four flights instead.
Not bothering to look for a reception desk, she grabbed the arm of a young man in scrubs. “I’m looking for Julie Trueblood.”
A voice called out behind her, “Becky?”
She turned to see a man who looked weary with fatigue and stress, his clothing covered with stains that might be blood.
Too much blood to come from someone who was still alive.
“Are you Hank?” Her nostrils flared, eyes squinting as she approached.
“Yes. She’s asleep, but you can…”
Her hand connected solidly with his face, a crisp clapping sound in the quiet of the hospital corridor.
“You were supposed to protect her!”
Hank cocked his jaw back into alignment. “I know.”
“She trusted you to keep her safe, and now she’s fighting for her life because you did a shitty job of it!” Becky glared at him, accusing eyes boring into his.
Hank met her gaze, seeming to accept her rage as just punishment. Then Gwen was there, holding her, telling her it was all right, which of course it wasn’t.
“Come see her. She has lots of tubes sticking out, but she’s still our Julie.” Gwen put her arm around the younger woman and ushered her toward another tiled hallway.
“Is she going to be okay, Gwen?”
“It’s too soon to say for sure.”
“What do you think?”
Gwen squeezed Becky’s shoulder and frowned a small smile. “I think we should hope for the best.”
Hank stood staring out the window, unseeing. The waiting room was angular and blue, full of squared-off metal chairs and rectangular couches, the people on them subdued.
He was giving the women time alone with Julie, but every moment he was away from her was its own special torment. McDowell was out there somewhere. Who’s to say he wouldn’t come here looking for the daughter he had failed to kill?
His cell phone rang in his pocket and he pulled it out to look at the screen.
He turned back to stare at nothing as he answered. “Jared.”
“You are the biggest fuckup I’ve ever had the misfortune to command.”
“Sir.”
“Not only did you manage to let a notorious fugitive escape in the middle of downtown Boston, you allowed him to seriously injure a civilian.”
“What do you want?”
The silence lasted so long, Hank was about to hang up.
“I want you to get back on track, Jared. This McDowell business is a goddamn train wreck, and you’re the conductor. I’m shipping you out to Seattle. There’s a case there…”
He interrupted. “I’m not going.”
“Pardon me, son? What did you just say?”
“I said, I’m not going.”
“I was under the impression you’re an enlisted officer of the U.S. Navy.”
Hank took the phone away from his ear while Barstow continued to speak. Snowflakes began to fall from the gray December sky and an image of Julie came to mind, standing on the church steps in her blue silk dress. Flurries swirled around her in the crisp night air.
Turning the phone over in his hand, he stared at the red button for several seconds before he pressed it, firmly. He was never one to do something without considering the ramifications of his actions.
Becky stared at the thin layer of orange grease on the pepperoni pizza as the elevator stopped on each floor between the basement and the ICU. This time the wait didn’t bother her, having seen enough of Julie’s eerily still form tucked into a hospital bed to last her for a while.
The tray was laden with food, from Cobb salad and rice pudding to the pizza and a small turkey sub with American cheese. She sipped at a chocolate milkshake as the doors opened onto the fourth floor, and she went in search of Hank.
She found him at Julie’s bedside, bent over in a chair, his forehead resting on the white sheet next to her hip. His hand held Julie’s tightly, and Becky felt even worse for having attacked him.
He’s in love with her.
He had changed into scrubs, the green color highlighting his bronze skin as it contrasted with Julie’s pallor. But it was the way he sat, as close to her as he could be, that struck Becky most.
She considered herself to be an excellent judge of character, and she knew instantly that Hank Jared was a good man.