Chapter 43
Sarah pulled into the hospital parking lot with her badge on her chest and Hudson Kane still everywhere beneath it.
She’d gone home and changed into her uniform.
It hadn’t helped.
She could still feel the weight of his hands on her hips, taste the salt of his skin. Last night, he’d looked at her as though there was nothing else in the room worth seeing.
She’d had lovers. She knew what belonged to a morning after. This wasn’t soreness or a lack of sleep. Something in her had already made room for the fact that Hudson was real again.
Sarah put the cruiser in park and cut the engine.
For a moment she sat in the sudden quiet, her breath fogging the windshield. Beyond the glass, the hospital’s gray facade rose behind rutted ice and piles of dirty slush.
Cord was inside. The case was waiting. And apparently her brain intended to spend the morning replaying what Hudson looked like when he stopped holding himself apart from her.
She tugged on her hat and climbed out. Hudson was standing at the top of the hospital steps.
He was with another man, an enormous dog sitting at their feet. Hudson had put the marshal back on. Dark jacket. Holster. His face was set in the focused lines she’d come to know over the last week.
He looked up and their eyes met across the parking lot. Memory arrived without permission. His face above hers—the loss of control he’d trusted her to see.
Heat flushed her throat. Seriously. Her body needed better situational awareness.
She rolled her shoulders and climbed the steps. The man beside him was broad-shouldered and somewhere in his early forties, his jacket creased, dark stubble shadowing his jaw. He had the tired, slightly battered look of someone who’d traveled a long way in a hurry.
The dog was easier to read.
Belgian Malinois. Big for the breed. Gray-frosted muzzle. Amber eyes fixed steadily on her as she approached.
“Sarah.” Hudson’s hand brushed the base of her spine. A small touch. Gone almost immediately. Her body noticed anyway.
“This is Owen Alcott. Deputy U.S. Marshal. Chicago. He’s been helping me on Cord’s case. I called him in after we brought Cord in.”
Owen extended a hand. “Sheriff Meyer.” They shook, his grip firm and brief. “Hudson told me about you.”
Sarah glanced at Hudson. “Has he?”
Hudson’s mouth tightened at one corner.
Owen’s gaze moved between them, and a smile ticked the corner of his mouth. “All good, I assure you.”
The Malinois rose and gave himself a shake.
“And this is Gunner,” Owen said. “Recently retired. My old partner.”
Gunner sniffed her hand. His amber eyes lifted to hers and stayed there long enough that Sarah had the odd sense of being interviewed. Then he leaned his considerable weight against her leg.
Owen stared at him. “Seriously?”
Sarah laughed and rubbed one pointed ear. “I think he likes me.”
“Six years I’ve spent teaching him not to trust strangers.”
“I’m not a stranger,” Sarah said. “Hudson told you about me.”
“Okay. Well. Apparently everybody’s been briefed,” Owen said.
Despite herself, Sarah smiled.
Then Hudson’s expression changed. “Cord’s stable. Nora’s with him.”
And just like that, the hospital came back into focus. Sarah dropped her hand from Gunner’s ear.
Hudson held the hospital door open. “Come on. I’ll take you to Cord.”
Owen tapped his thigh once, and Gunner moved instantly to his side. “Give me a minute. I need to get him settled. Gunner has a date with his heated travel mat.” Owen jogged down the steps and opened the rear of a large SUV. Gunner jumped in.
The hospital was overheated after the cold outside, the dry air catching at the back of her throat as she followed Hudson down the corridor. Cord’s room was at the end of the hall. Hudson opened the door as Owen caught up with them and stopped outside.
Cord lay propped against thin hospital pillows, an oxygen cannula looped behind his ears.
A green line traveled steadily across the monitor beside him.
Nora sat beside the bed in a wheelchair, one hand wrapped around Cord’s.
She looked up as they entered. Sarah had seen versions of that expression in hospital rooms, beside wrecked cars, and once on a dock at three in the morning.
The exhausted vigilance of someone afraid to look away.
Sarah’s gaze moved to Cord.
Four feet of water. Ben Taggart. And Hudson beneath rock and silt. Cord had set all of it in motion. Sarah looked at the diminished man in the bed. She hated what he’d done to Hudson and pitied what remained.
Hudson stopped beside her. His arm brushed hers.
Sarah didn’t move away. “Cord. How are you feeling?”
Cord licked chapped lips. “Like I’ve been better, Sheriff.”
“The doctors say you need a higher level of care than we can provide here. Providence has accepted the transfer.”
Cord’s gaze moved past her to Hudson and stayed there. “Okay.”
The door opened behind them, and a nurse stepped into the room, a tablet tucked against her hip. “Transport’s forty minutes out.”
Hudson turned. “Ground?”
“Critical-care unit. Two-person medical crew.”
“Thanks.”
The nurse nodded and left.
Sarah looked at Cord again. Nora’s hand was still wrapped around his, her thumb moving slowly across his knuckles.
“We’ll let you rest,” Sarah said.
Hudson opened the door, and Sarah stepped back into the corridor where Owen waited.
“He looks worse than I expected,” Owen said, peering through the window in the door.
Sarah kept her hand on the door handle for a moment. “I spoke to his doctor on the drive here. The cardiac event was significant.”
Owen’s attention shifted to Hudson. “I’ve got a name.”
Light reflected from the snow outside painted the linoleum between them. The corridor felt very quiet. Down the hall, an elevator opened and closed.
The creases around Hudson’s eyes deepened. “Go on.”
“Twelve hours ago, someone in Prisoner Operations flagged a request for Cord’s custody status and scheduled movement.” Owen lowered his voice. “Daniel Hale.”
Hudson swore under his breath.
Sarah looked between them. “I’m guessing I should know who that is?”
“Career CIA,” Hudson said. “Senior operations officer.”
A nurse passed by with a chart. Hudson waited until she’d rounded the corner. “Hale’s office supported weapons interdiction in the South China Sea. Adjacent to our operation.”
The connection landed for Sarah. “Cord’s operation?”
“Yeah.”
Sarah glanced through the narrow window in Cord’s door. The foot of his bed was visible. The IV pole. A sliver of Nora’s hand. “How did Hale know Cord was being moved?”
“It wasn’t common knowledge,” Hudson said. “The arrest is official, but I limited knowledge of his location and cooperation to the case team.”
“Because you thought the case was compromised.”
“I didn’t know.” His eyes met hers. “I wasn’t taking the chance.”
Sarah studied him. His stillness. Everything underneath moving fast. “And now Hale knows Cord is moving.”
Hudson nodded.
She pressed her fingers to her forehead for a moment. “Could Hale be the reason Cord ran?”
“Maybe,” Hudson said.
“That’s not much.”
Hudson pressed two fingers to his temple. “It’s more than we had yesterday.”
“Then we assume the transfer’s compromised.”
“Exactly,” Owen said.
Her stomach tightened. “Okay. What are the custody arrangements?”
“Us,” Owen said. “Hudson rides with Cord and Mercer. I’ll follow.”
Hudson with Cord. The back of her neck prickled. She ignored it. “Mercer?”
“Deputy U.S. Marshal. Anchorage office. He’s downstairs grabbing coffee.”
Marginally better. But not a lot. Sarah jerked her head toward the corridor. “Walk with me.”
Hudson fell into step beside her. “Routes?”
“North is closed,” Sarah said. “Washout two weeks ago and the repairs aren’t finished. The coast road closed yesterday. I checked with Walter en route here.”
Approval flickered in Hudson’s eyes.
Owen cursed softly. “So one road. Not ideal.”
Sarah almost smiled. Understatement appeared to be a shared marshal trait.
“State Troopers?” Hudson asked.
“I can request a unit on the highway,” she said.
“Don’t tell them why.”
Her gaze snapped to Hudson.
“We don’t know how far this reaches.” He shrugged.
She hated that he was right. “I’ll get road conditions directly from dispatch. No names. No destination.” She looked at Hudson. “And I want check-ins every fifteen minutes.”
“We could lose signal past Bowhill Ridge.”
“Then call before you hit it and the second you’re clear.”
“Sarah—”
“That wasn’t a suggestion.”
The corner of Hudson’s mouth lifted. “Understood, Sheriff.”
Her body remembered exactly what that mouth had done to her last night. Jesus Christ. She folded her arms tighter across her chest.
“I’ll bring the vehicle around.” Owen headed outside, leaving them alone.
Hudson’s fingers closed lightly around her elbow. A discreet touch. To anyone watching, nothing.
But Sarah felt it everywhere. “Be careful.”
“Always.”
She looked straight at him. “Hudson.”
The humor left his face.
Sarah put her hand flat against his chest. “Come back.”
His hand covered hers. “I will.”