Chapter 5
Minutes later, the campground was filled with officers, agents—and the curious. The last group was held back from the scene by the cabin itself and by law enforcement officials who were politely but firmly keeping them back.
Grant had untied George Maynard while Shelly had put through the calls to emergency services and their own people.
Most important, of course, was the ambulance and the medical personnel coming to care for the man.
Shelly had made sure they’d made their way through the terrain and trails to reach George Maynard; then she had waited outside for Grant while EMTs filed in.
Grant came out, anxious for them to get to doing what they could to save the man’s life.
Shelly looked at Grant, and he knew, of course, what the question was in her eyes.
“I don’t know. But we’ll leave the car. We’ll go to the hospital—both of us—in the ambulance. I already cleared it.”
“And George?” she persisted.
He shook his head. “I don’t know. He’s been beaten and beaten …
his vision is blurry; he’s covered in blood.
His fingernails are ripped out, and he has stab wounds in his chest …
I don’t know. Of course, I do know why his kidnappers chose this place.
Sometimes, sound carries. But the distances here between cabins, the trees, the remoteness …
great place to torture someone to death,” he said dryly.
“But he may live!” Shelly said.
He nodded. The door to the cabin opened; the medical personnel were bringing George out on a stretcher.
“Let’s go,” Grant told Shelly.
As he spoke, Perry Banyan made his way into the clearing.
“My God, you found him!” he declared. He looked as if he was about to give them hugs, remembered his position, and thought better of it.
“We’re going to the hospital with him,” Grant told his old friend.
“I’ll be there when I can. I’ll check the work here—”
“We have Florida people questioning cabin to cabin, and Florida and federal teams working on the forensics. And, of course, as you can see, your local people are keeping bystanders from destroying the possibility of any evidence,” Grant told him.
“Got it,” Perry said, nodding.
Shelly felt Grant catch hold of her hand as they nodded to Perry and then hurried in the wake of the EMTs, who were rushing back to the ambulance with George on his stretcher.
Two of the medical team hopped in the front, two in the back. It was tight, but Grant and Shelly stayed out of the way by sharing a small platform by the ambulance’s bed.
The two crew members working on George were fast and efficient. George was quickly set up with an IV. Doctors at the hospital were being informed, and the young woman working the IV was gently speaking to the man, moving on to check his vital signs.
Soon they were at the hospital; George was going to be rushed into surgery. Vital organs had been pierced, and lest he bleed to death internally, those rips had to be repaired.
And Cecil Cartwright was in the same hospital. The intensive care unit was on the same floor as the surgery unit, and the place was already protected by an FDLE officer and a special agent from Grant’s own field office.
They nodded acknowledgments to each other as Grant and Shelly followed the EMTs through to the surgery.
When George disappeared through the doors for what could possibly be a lifesaving operation, the federal and local agents stepped forward to speak with them and assured them that Cecil Cartwright was still in his medically induced coma, and both agencies were keeping someone on duty night and day.
“We’re carefully checking all credentials when anyone steps into his room,” a federal agent, Maureen O’Malley, assured Grant.
“We’ve been on cases where someone nicely dressed up as a nurse has gone in to a patient with a lethal injection of cyanide for their IV,” Nathan Fuentes, the FDLE agent with her, explained.
“Too true. Thank you for being so—” Grant began.
“Hey, just doing our jobs,” Nathan said, smiling. “But you found George Maynard. Alive! Wow, that’s amazing!”
“We can only hope he stays alive,” Grant said quietly.
“You two feel free to wait on that. Maureen and I are out here. ICU is just there, as you can see. You need us, call.”
“Thanks!” Shelly told them. “And nice to meet you,”
“You, too, Special Agent,” Maureen said. She smiled. “We hear you’re some hotshot in from the West Coast.”
Shelly laughed. “Not sure about being a hotshot, but I am in from the West.”
Grant looked at Shelly, shaking his head.
“I think they were done with him. I think he was supposed to die of his wounds, and no one was coming back. They planned for his body to eventually be discovered. I think they planned on him being discovered dead.”
He winced as he set a hand on her back, indicating the surgery waiting room just outside the doors to the operating section of the hospital.
“I held his hand,” he said. “I was so afraid he would die before help came. But I’m thankful, of course …”
“Hey!” Shelly said softly. “We found him. He’s going to make it.”
“It will depend on just what organs were damaged and how badly,” Grant said.
Their phones were buzzing. They each checked the message they were receiving. Shelly read softly aloud.
“APB put out for Andy Jeter. But the man may be in deep hiding, and he might have changed his appearance in a dozen ways. Let’s hope George Maynard makes it and can talk to us. Of course, let’s just hope he makes it; because by all accounts, he’s an amazing human being who deserves a life.”
“Let’s hope,” Grant murmured. “But if he doesn’t make it—”
“He’s going to make it,” Shelly said with assurance.
“We need justice for him. And we need to stop whatever the hell is going on with these damned curse tablets!”
“As they say, the answer is out there. Or the truth is out there. Either way, we will find both,” Shelly told him.
He smiled. But waiting didn’t seem to be his specialty.
Grant started pacing the confines of the small room.
Shelly watched him for a minute and then said, “Oh!”
“Oh?” he stopped to look at her.
“We probably should try to reach Ainsley. Let her know—”
“I know,” he said. “Except I think we should let him make it through surgery first.”
“Right. No need for her to hear that he’s died twice,” Shelly agreed.
He started pacing again and stopped, looked at her, and said, “I’m sorry.”
“Whatever helps you pass the time,” Shelly told him. “But if he does come out of it with a chance …”
“Then we’ll need to reach Ainsley,” Grant agreed.
“Except Ainsley knows!”
They turned to the waiting room door. Perry Banyan had arrived—with Ainsley.
“She heard the news about the commotion at the campground,” Perry said, glancing at the young woman. He winced. “She saw that a kidnapped victim had been discovered alive. I never got a chance to put her off—”
“I knew they’d found George! I just knew in my heart that it was George!” Ainsley said.
“He is alive, Ainsley,” Shelly said, “but they’re not letting anyone see him yet. You understand, of course; they’re trying to keep him alive.”
“I know, I know, but I had to be here!” Ainsley said. “I’ll be calm; I’ll be patient. But I had to be here.”
“We understand,” Grant assured her.
He glanced at Shelly.
Perry and Ainsley were here now, and Ainsley was not going to leave.
And there were things they needed to be doing.
Shelly gave him a barely perceptible nod, and he knew she understood he intended to find and speak with a doctor. She also understood he wanted Shelly to calm Ainsley down and let Perry know he needed to be the one staying with Ainsley.
“Excuse me,” Grant murmured.
Perry, too, realized what he was doing, but he kept silent.
As Grant left the room, he could hear Shelly assuring Ainsley, saying, “Ainsley, this is right where you should be right now, but it may take some time before you’re able to see George.
I wish I knew a magical formula to help you make waiting easier.
But they have a nice little stand over there for coffee or tea, and there’s a television to keep you occupied. ”
He hoped the news wasn’t playing on the waiting-room screen.
A nurse was coming out of the surgery door. She looked at Grant, knowing who he was and what he wanted.
“The doctor is right behind me,” the young woman told him. “He’ll explain where we are … the poor man. His injuries were extensive. But Dr. Hodges is one of the best emergency surgeons in the world, so …”
The doctor was right behind the young woman. He looked at Grant and realized that he was the man who had discovered the victim and that he wasn’t just anxious to see a patient who wasn’t ready to be seen.
“Sir?” Dr. Hodges murmured. The man was tall, sturdy, white-haired, a doctor who was confident and determined, Grant thought.
“Anything you can tell me would be deeply appreciated,” Grant told him.
“Here’s the good news—whoever did this to Mr. Maynard wanted to make him suffer.
Which doesn’t sound good, but while his injuries are extensive, they were done to him to cause pain rather than death, though death might well have been the end game.
Maynard’s fingertips have been burned; his nails have been ripped out from his toes and his fingers.
He sustained knife wounds all over his body, and he was punched repeatedly.
However, his vital organs hadn’t been pierced so badly that they couldn’t be repaired by the excellence of the surgeon.
His bones were not broken, though he’s lucky that he wasn’t blinded.
That’s the good news. I sincerely believe the man will live.
Because of the immensity of the pain that he suffered and that continues to plague him, he’s been heavily sedated.
I’m aware we have Mr. Cecil Cartwright in the hospital here, being maintained in a medical coma, and this gives you no one with whom to speak about these horrific circumstances, but—”