Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“I’ll need your help with this following God thing, Vicks.” Cillian hefted Victoria higher against his chest as he trudged through the snow, carrying her in his arms. “You’d better stay with me, or you know I’m going to mess it up.”
Her eyes were still closed, her breathing shallower than before. Her face was so pale.
But he kept talking to her. Had to give her a reason to fight, to keep going.
But until when? He didn’t know where he was going. Hopefully in the direction Warren had taken off, back toward the city, toward help.
The snow still blew so thickly in the darkness that he couldn’t see any houses or streetlamps. Nothing that could lead him to a phone or people.
“God, you know I’m new to this whole thing of asking you for stuff. But Vicks says you don’t need my help to do whatever you want. And I know you must love her a lot. So could you do your thing and send some help?”
Cillian glanced down at her terrifyingly pale face as he pushed his legs to stride faster. Should he be putting pressure on the wound again to stop the bleeding? He’d done that for several minutes, but he couldn’t just sit there, watching her die. He had to try to get help.
“Did you hear that, Vicks? I just prayed. And I even kind of admitted you were right about something. I’d love to hear what you have to say about that.” The attempt at humor stuck on the lump in his throat. “Please, God. I can’t lose her.”
A sound, somewhere beyond the constant swooshing of the wind, touched his frozen ears.
Crunching?
“Hello?” His call was swallowed up in a snowy gust.
Yeah. It was crunching. But steadier and louder than footsteps.
Light. A soft glow, breaking through the wall of snow.
The light grew brighter, whiter, coming closer.
His heart raced. Was that—
Headlights. The hood of a red vehicle appeared, driving toward him. A pickup truck. Was that Hank’s pickup?
“Over here!” Cillian shouted, unable to wave with Victoria in his arms.
The truck slowed, skidded to a quick stop.
Both doors opened, and two men dropped out, running toward Cillian and Victoria.
“Vicki!” Hank’s alarmed call cut through the wind at the same time Cillian recognized his silhouette.
Robert ran beside him, both of them reaching Cillian in seconds. “What happened?” Robert glanced from his sister to Cillian.
“She’s been shot.”
“What? No.” Anguish twisted Hank’s voice as he reached for her. “Where’s the wound?”
Cillian blinked at him. Right. He was a med student. He could help. “Her stomach, I think. It’s in the abdomen area.”
“Lord, please help Vicki. Help us.” The prayer spilled from Hank as naturally as breathing as he peeled back Victoria’s coat to see the bloody patch of clothing. His gaze met Cillian’s. “Get her in the truck. I’ll sit in the back with her and do what I can. Rob, you drive.”
Surprise filtered through Cillian at Hank’s sudden switch from the laidback, youngest child to take-charge leader.
They hurried to the pickup where Hank hopped into the back seat of the extended cab. Robert helped Cillian transfer Vicki to Hank as gently as possible.
A moan emerged as they set her on the seat, halfway onto Hank’s lap.
The sound of pain cinched Cillian’s chest. He shot Hank an alarmed glance.
“It’s a good sign.” Hank gave him a nod, then aimed his gaze past Cillian to Robert. “Let’s get out of here. Fast. Go to Rampart Memorial Hospital.”
Robert ran around to the driver’s side as Cillian yanked open the passenger door and landed on the seat.
He twisted to see Victoria while Robert turned the truck around. “How is she?”
Hank didn’t look up from examining the area of the wound. “How long ago was she shot?”
Cillian paused, trying to figure it out. “I’m not sure. Feels like hours. But probably isn’t.”
“Looks like the bleeding has slowed. And the bullet didn’t enter the stomach. Could’ve caused shrapnel damage, though, and it could’ve damaged other organs. I can’t be sure. But she isn’t as far gone as she should be by now if the bullet had damaged something vital.”
Hope coursed through Cillian’s torso. Was God going to let her live?
“You did a good job trying to keep her warm with your jacket and stopping the bleeding.” Hank met Cillian’s gaze. “Thank you.”
Cillian jerked a nod. “I’d give my life for her. I’m…” He looked away. “I’m so sorry she caught the bullet instead of me.”
“Who shot her?” Robert’s tone was harder than Cillian had ever heard from the even-keeled psychiatrist.
“Warren Morris.”
“Who?” Hank’s question sounded behind Cillian.
“Sydney Morris’s brother.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would he want to hurt Vicki or you?”
Cillian twisted his head to see Hank. “He killed Thomas Briscoe, trying to rob him. He didn’t like Victoria and me looking for the killer. Thought we’d figure out it was him.”
“So he tried to get rid of you before you could.” Robert’s jaw clenched as he stared into the snow that streaked like strips of white lightning shooting at them in the headlights.
“Yeah. I’m…sorry.” Cillian glanced down at his hands, the feeling slowly beginning to return to his fingers with a burning sensation.
“It’s my fault. Vicks never wanted to do any of that investigating and pushing the police.
When Warren started trying to kill us, she said it was too dangerous. I made her keep going.”
A hand suddenly clamped down on his shoulder from behind.
Cillian glanced back at Hank, the guy’s long arm stretched over Victoria in his lap. “If you think that, you don’t know Vicki. She’s a strong woman of God.”
A small smile cracked through the anguish squeezing Cillian’s heart. “Yeah. She is.”
“We’d better call the police.” Robert’s grim comment jerked Cillian’s attention to him. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a phone, extending it toward Cillian. “Find the last number in recent calls and ask for Lieutenant Willis.”
Cillian took the phone and woke up the screen. “What’s going on?”
“He dispatched some squads to come out here when we located you. But they should reroute to the hospital now.”
“How did you find us?”
“Vicki’s ankle monitor.”
“Wow.” Cillian had forgotten all about it. And his annoyance that she’d had to keep wearing the thing even after she’d been cleared. “Willis actually shared her location data with you?”
“Only because our dad got on the phone to ask him for it.” Hank’s answer came with a sardonic tone.
Whoa. Cillian never thought he’d want to thank Victoria’s father for anything. But now he owed Dr. Henry Weston his life and Victoria’s. If they could get to the hospital on time.
“Can you step on it, Rob?” Hank’s urgent question spiked fear through Cillian again. The med student was worried about Vicks.
Robert shot Cillian a sidelong glance before returning his attention to the snowy road. “You can see how we beat the police here. My little brother has an adventurous, race car driver streak.”
“Right. The police.” Cillian looked down at the phone in his hand, navigating to the list of recent calls. “I suppose they’ll want to talk to me and Vicks.” That must be why Robert wanted them to come to the hospital.
“I was thinking they’ll want to grab Briscoe’s real killer.”
“At the hospital?”
“Yeah.” Robert kept his focus on navigation as he answered. “Sydney texted me. She was trying to get ahold of Vicki to tell her she’s having the baby. That’s when we noticed Vicki had left our dad’s.”
“We went outside to see if we could catch her,” Hank picked up the story like a smooth handoff, “and we saw her purse in the snow.”
Robert nodded. “Her car was still there, along with tire tracks from another vehicle.”
“We knew something was wrong, so we called the police right away.”
Cillian glanced back at Hank. “Good thinking. But what makes you think Warren is at the hospital? He drove us out there to leave us for dead. I don’t think he’d go back to town and see his sister.”
“Sydney said he was driving her to Rampart Memorial.”
Cillian stared at Robert. “You’re kidding.”
“Not a bit.”
“Okay. I’ll call Willis.” Cillian put the phone to his ear and was quickly transferred to the lieutenant. First time the man sounded pleased to hear from Cillian and didn’t question anything he said about Warren being the real murderer or that he was currently at Rampart Memorial with his sister.
If he hadn’t just dropped her off and left.
Cillian ended the call and looked at Robert. “Willis said he’s sending the cops to Rampart with more backup.”
“At the moment, I’m more concerned with getting Vicki there on time.” Hank’s tone carried a warning that sent a shiver through Cillian. “Faster, Rob.”
Robert pressed the pedal harder, earning a slide from the tires. But he steadied the truck and kept driving at the same speed.
“I know neither of you are praying men, but you might think of saying a prayer for Vicki.”
Cillian jerked his head toward Hank in the back, dropping his gaze to Vicks.
Her face was so pale, lifeless.
“I’m a praying man. Now.” His gaze found Hank’s.
The younger guy’s eyes widened. Then he gave Cillian a single nod.
Cillian took in a breath. “God, Vicki would say you already know what’s happening here.
Save this beautiful, amazing woman. Please, heal her.
” The prayer emerged awkward and halting at first, but Cillian kept going.
He would do anything for her. Give his life if he could.
But all he could do now was this—pray to the God she’d always wanted him to believe in.
And he did believe now. With all his aching, worried heart.
So he prayed all the way to the hospital, only stopping when Robert careened into the recently plowed parking lot.
The red letters, Emergency Department, glowed above the entrance where three squad cars were parked, lights flashing.
No cops in sight. Maybe they’d gone inside after Warren?
“Keep an eye out for the Warren kid.” Robert braked beside one of the squads, close to the entrance.