Читать книгу Broken Trust - Sharon Dunn - Страница 9

Even before the last piece of metal clattered to the ground, Wyatt dived into the fiery aftermath of the car bomb. He inhaled thick smoke, coughing.

He registered the fire that shot out from what remained of the car and heard the cacophony of panicked voices around him. But all of the noise and mayhem was like a radio turned down low. All he could see, all he could think about was Christine. The blast had tossed her sideways and now she lay motionless, forty feet from the burning car.

She wasn’t moving. The percussive thrum of his heart beating in his ears blocked out all other sound as though he were in a tunnel that led directly to her. He ran. Feet pounding pavement. He dived to the ground beside her and felt for a pulse at her neck.

She was alive.

With his hand still cupping her cheek, he leaned closer. She looked so pale and lifeless. “Christine, can you hear me?”

No response.

Dear God, let her be okay.

He jerked back when he saw the blood soaking through the collar of her torn coat.

A hand squeezed his shoulder. “What can I do?” The voice was calm, authoritative.

He looked up into the eyes of an older man in a suit. “She needs medical attention now.”

“The hospital is just down that way.” The older man pointed. “I can call.”

“How far is it?” He could see the two-story white building with the blue symbol for hospital over the other buildings.

“Three blocks. One down, two to the west.”

“It would be faster if I took her.” He lifted Christine. She was like a rag doll in his arms. He turned, finally able to absorb what was going on around him. A crowd had formed on the sidewalk not far from the burning car. “Do you work here?”

“I’m the principal of the high school. Is Christine going to be okay?”

Wyatt didn’t stay around to answer the question. Holding Christine close to his chest, he ran across the lot toward the sidewalk. Without slowing his pace, he crossed the street, grateful that the hospital was clearly marked.

Christine moaned. She opened her eyes. Her gaze was unfocused.

Still running and out of breath, Wyatt looked down at her. He could lose her. So much had gone unsaid between them. “Just for the record—” he gasped for air “—I did love you. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

As quickly as she had opened them, her eyes closed. He was only yards from the hospital entrance.

A woman in a nurse’s smock and a man stood outside the door. When they saw Wyatt coming, they pushed a gurney toward him.

The nurse spoke. “Principal Slater phoned ahead. Put her on this, and we’ll get her inside.”

He laid Christine’s limp body down. The medical team pushed her through the doors where a third man had come outside to hold the doors. Wyatt stepped inside, prepared to follow the gurney down the hall.

The third man gripped Wyatt’s elbow, stopping him. “They need to get her stabilized. It would be better if you waited out here.”

A sense of emptiness filled Wyatt as he watched the gurney disappear around a corner. “What?” He couldn’t comprehend what the man was saying. All he could think about was Christine. There had been no life in her eyes when she’d looked at him. He wanted to be with her.

“I’m sorry, sir, are you a relative?”

“I’m … I’m …” Who was he to her anymore? “I’m a friend. We knew each other years ago.”

“So, you’re not a relative.” The man scurried behind a desk and pulled forms out of file cabinets. “I know Maggie Norris. I’ll give her a call. She can come in and fill out the paperwork.”

Wyatt felt himself going numb as a sense of helplessness invaded his thoughts.

“Sir, why don’t you have a seat? As soon as we know something, we’ll let you know.” The man’s printer fired to life spewing out forms.

“I want to be with her.” Wyatt’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“I can appreciate that, but you are going to have to wait.”

His heart was still jackhammering in his chest from the exertion and the adrenaline. “When will they know?”

The phone rang, and the man behind the desk gave short, quick answers and then said, “All right, I’ll give Dr. Quaid a call.”

Wyatt rose to his feet. “Was that about Christine?”

The man held the phone in midair as though he were debating if he should tell Wyatt or not. “It looks like she is going to need a surgeon. We don’t have one on staff. This is only a twenty-bed facility.”

Desperation bombarded his thoughts. “How long will that take?”

“The more you interrupt me, the longer it will take.” The man’s words were forceful but calm. “I can see you are concerned about her.”

Wyatt backed down. Unable to sit still, he paced and waited and prayed. His breathing slowed and his heart rate returned to normal. Finally, he stumbled to the plastic waiting-room chairs and slumped down. His thoughts raced a hundred miles an hour.

What if she didn’t make it?

Christine awoke in a fog… not sure of where she was or what had happened. She opened her eyes, but shut them quickly in reaction to the bright light. As she struggled to orient herself, a strong, warm hand squeezed hers.

“Hey, sleepyhead. There you are. How are you doing?” The voice was filled with concern.

The voice was Wyatt’s. That rich tenor tone had always stirred her up inside. She turned her head, which caused pain to shoot through her shoulder. “Could you … could you … turn off those lights?”

“Sure, sure.” His warm touch faded, and a moment later, she heard clicking, and the room became darker.

The sterile smells and stiff sheets told her she was in a hospital bed. Wyatt returned, scooting the chair he’d been sitting in closer to her bed.

“How long have I been out?”

“About ten hours. They had to do some minor surgery on your shoulder … to extract some metal. And you have a concussion.”

She swallowed to produce some moisture in her mouth. “It was a bomb?”

“Yes.” Without her asking, Wyatt grabbed a cup off the tray beside her bed and placed it under her mouth. “Drink this. It’ll help. It’s just water.”

The water soothed her throat and moistened her dry mouth, bringing relief.

“Better?” He touched her forehead tenderly.

This was a side of Wyatt she had never seen before. He responded to her needs even before she voiced them.

As coherency returned, so did fear. “Eva. Where is Eva?” She lifted her head, let out an involuntary moan of pain and lay back down.

Wyatt made shushing sounds as he rubbed his knuckles over her cheek. “She and her grandma just went down the hall to get something to eat. They should be back any minute. They’ll be glad to see you’ve come around.”

“Is she doing okay with seeing me like this?”

Wyatt patted her hand. “She’s handling it just fine. Your deputy has popped in a couple of times, too … not to mention half the town.”

Christine’s heart warmed. People were like that around here.

Wyatt paused. He pulled his hand away. “Christine, I know you don’t want to hear this, but I sent Agent Cranson over to do a prelim investigation of the car bomb. A similar type of bomb was used in a judge’s car down in Wyoming. The militia group we are after, the one Lansky is linked to, took credit for it and said next time they would make sure the judge was in it when it went off.”

Christine stared at the ceiling. “It doesn’t make sense that this group would set off a car bomb if they are trying to hide out at a training camp. Why would they call attention to themselves like that?”

Wyatt cleared his throat. “That’s true. We are looking into the owner of the car, trying to find a motive.”

Christine took in a shallow breath. “Whether there’s a link or not, we need to investigate. The first thing to do would be to question Randy. He was standing by the car when I yelled at him. He might have seen something.”

“You mean the kid you were running after in the parking lot? He has disappeared … which makes him look suspicious. Your deputy has put out an alert to all local law enforcement to be on the lookout for him.”

A lot had happened in ten hours. Christine winced. Slicing pain in her shoulder made any kind of movement difficult. “Randy has had some petty-thievery problems. I doubt he knows anything about bomb making. I know his mother. Soon as I am out of here, we can go over and talk to her.”

“We?”

Still resting her head on the pillow, she turned to face him. “I know you want all the dots to connect, but I am not jumping to any conclusions. If you go over there to talk to Randy’s mom alone, she’ll clam up. Let’s face it, Green, you need me, even if you are a hotshot agent.”

Wyatt grinned. “I suppose you’re right about that.” His expression grew more serious. “One good thing about the bomb—it gives us as agents a reason for being here without anyone thinking we are looking for that camp.”

Christine tensed. “How many agents got called in? Swarms of feds descending on Roosevelt won’t do anyone any good. It’ll just open up old wounds.”

“We’ve got three bomb specialists flying in, and I thought it best to use some law enforcement from a nearby county to help with the evidence gathering,” Wyatt said. “A bomb blast scares people. I think we will get the cooperation we hope for.”

“I hope so.” She’d feel better once she could get out of this hospital bed and help facilitate the interaction between agents and townspeople. “I’ll help as much as I can to ensure things go smoothly. I don’t remember much of my training about bombs. It was kind of limited, and it’s been a long time.”

“You ever regret not using all of that training?” Wyatt fingered the wrap on his forearm.

“My priorities changed.” Trying to ignore the pain radiating from her shoulder, she let out a breath. “I wanted to be on the ranch with Dustin.”

As though someone had flipped a switch, Wyatt’s jovial expression darkened. He rose to his feet and turned away. His shoulders slumped as a tense silence spiraled through the room.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Why didn’t you tell me Dustin had died?”

So he had found out. “I … I just couldn’t find the right moment.”

“Mommy.” Eva’s sweet voice came from the doorway. She heard footsteps and then Eva’s bright face was right next to hers. “You woke up.”

She touched her daughter’s soft cheek. “Yes, sweetie, I woke up.”

Grandma Maggie, with her sweater folded over her forearm, came and stood at the end of the bed. “So good to see you perking up.” She patted Christine’s foot.

“Your family’s here. I’ll be going.” Hurt tainted Wyatt’s words.

Christine easily detected that Wyatt was upset over her not saying anything about Dustin. In the course of their relationship, she’d gotten good at reading his signals. “I’ll get in touch with you as soon as I check out, and we’ll go talk to Randy’s mom. That seems like the best place to start.”

“Your deputy can do it,” he said. “She wasn’t just caught in a car-bomb explosion.”

His words jabbed at her heart. Was he punishing her for not saying anything about Dustin? Christine felt conflicted over the suggestion that Lisa should help Wyatt. Earlier today that had seemed like the perfect solution, but she couldn’t let her personal feelings interfere with her professional judgment. Lisa was not an experienced investigator. “I’ll be out of here soon enough. I want to handle this.” She just hadn’t been prepared for the resurgence of emotions she thought long dead. Being with him made her … afraid. She didn’t trust herself not to fall into old patterns around him.

She couldn’t discern the look on his face as he opened the hospital-room door. He left without saying another word. She listened to his footsteps fade.

Eva climbed into the bed with Christine.

“Eva, be careful.” Grandma Maggie moved closer to the head of the bed.

“I want to be close to Mommy.” Eva touched a bandage on Christine’s forehead.

“She’s all right, Maggie.” She looked into her daughter’s sympathy-filled eyes. “Just watch the IV, honey.”

“The doctors said you can check out in the morning.” Maggie turned toward the door. “Mr. Green certainly left in a hurry after he had been so worried about you.”

“Really?”

Maggie moved closer to the head of the bed. “He carried you all the way to the hospital, and as soon as they would let him, he stayed by your side.”

Warmth swelled around Christine’s heart. Wyatt had never been that attentive to her before, but past experience made her reluctant to trust his actions. “He probably was just waiting until you guys got back.” She wasn’t sure what to think about Wyatt. He had always been about work. Maybe he just thought being nice to her would help him get his assignment done faster. Still, something about him was different.

Maggie patted her hand. “You look tired. Come on, Eva, let’s go home. You can see Mommy in the morning before I take you to school.”

A few minutes after they left, a nurse brought in a meal for Christine. She picked at her pudding and sandwich, but was able to finish the container of milk. Christine drowsed while some mindless show played on the television. When she was still half-asleep, a nurse came in and offered her a painkiller.

She awoke in the darkness hours later. The television had been turned off. Though the curtains were drawn, she could see through a sliver between them that it was black outside. Her brain told her body to wake up, but the painkiller made that order impossible to follow. Her limbs felt heavy, immobile. She fell asleep again.

Her eyes shot open. Had an hour passed or only minutes? She was sweating and chilled at the same time. Bits and pieces of what had happened during the blast had come back to her in her dreams. A loud boom had surrounded her.

In her dreams, she had remembered the strength of Wyatt’s arms. She had heard his frantic voice telling her she was going to be all right. His face had been very close to hers.

She’d opened her eyes for a moment. What had he said to her? Just for the record, I did love you. I just didn’t know how to say it.

She wiped the perspiration on her brow and shivered at the same time. No, Wyatt hadn’t said that to her. She had just dreamed it. Her mind was filling in the blank spaces of memory with wishful hoping.

The heaviness of sleep returned and she drifted off. When she awoke, she had no idea how much time had passed. Ten minutes? An hour? The room was dark and the view through the half-open curtain was black. The painkiller still weighted her limbs. Her mind moved in slow motion. She was shivering.

A rustling in the corner caused her to turn her head.

“Wyatt?” Her throat had gone dry.

The bulk of the figure told her it couldn’t be Wyatt, but someone was in the room. Must be a doctor. Her eyelids felt heavy. The painkiller made it hard to stay awake. She pulled the covers tighter around her neck.

As she drifted off again, she heard a harsh voice. “You better watch your step with these feds, Sheeer-iiiiiff.”

Chilled and frightened, Christine struggled to open her eyes. The voice had been a low whisper and had come from a few feet away. She hadn’t heard footsteps. Was he still here?

With her heart hammering in her chest, she reached for her call button.

A nurse appeared a few minutes later in the doorway. The dark room covered the nurse in shadow, making it hard to see her face. “Yes?”

“There was somebody in my room.” Christine lifted her uninjured hand and pointed to where she’d seen movement.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll turn on the lights.” The nurse spoke in that compassionate but noncommittal tone that medical people learned to master.

The lights went on. Christine winced from the bright ness. There was nothing in the corner but her coat thrown over a chair.

The nurse tilted her head to one side and offered Christine a quick smile. She pulled a blanket out of a closet and walked over to her. She put her face close to Christine’s as she smoothed out the blanket. “You must be cold.”

Christine closed her eyes. The look of pity on the nurse’s face was a little too much to take. She was a stable, clear-thinking adult. Why would she imagine someone was in her room? “You didn’t see anyone come in here or leave?”

The nurse shook her head. “We’ve only got two other patients besides you. It’s real quiet. So I would notice.”

“I just thought—” Now with the lights on and the nurse seeming so rational, Christine began to doubt herself.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’ve been through a lot today and everybody is affected differently by the painkillers.” The nurse moved toward the door. “Would you like the lights out?”

“No, please, leave them on.” Real or imagined, Christine didn’t want to face what waited for her in the dark.