Bloody Point (7 page)

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Bloody Point

Chapter 7

H
E was asleep when it
started. Hands were all over him probing, adjusting, moving him. He could hear
equipment being rolled away and soft, urgent voices. He forced his eyes open
just as they lifted him and moved him sideways onto a stretcher that was on a gurney
next to his bed. Orderlies and nurses surrounded him. A doctor gave orders.
They began strapping him onto the board. He wanted to protest but he couldn’t
find his voice. Then he saw Craig Campbell standing by the door, his jacket
pushed back to reveal his gun.

Something was up. Jake swallowed and submitted,
concentrating just on breathing.

When they were finished strapping him in, the nurse
stepped aside so Campbell could come near. “We’ve got to move you, Jake. Don’t
worry. We’ve got a helo on the roof. It’ll be a quick trip through the halls
and then you’re out of here. We’ve got you covered. Don’t worry.”

The gurney started moving. It took a right turn outside
his door, and then they began moving quickly. He could hear the creaking of the
wheels, the patting of shoes on the floor, the brisk, quiet commands of
Campbell. The ceiling was flying by. A hard left turn and he was on an elevator.
The doors closed, the lift began.

Seconds later he was on the helo pad. The bird was
cranking, the blades beating the air, wind whipping. The sun was so bright Jake
squeezed his eyes shut. Hands grabbed the stretcher, pulling him off the
gurney. They raced to the copter, and then he felt them strapping the stretcher
down. A medic took his pulse. Off to the side, Campbell buckled himself in the
jump seat. They lifted off. Jake closed his eyes.

And the city of Baltimore dropped away beneath them.

† † †

Cassie left the FBI building angry and confused. Squinting in
the bright sunlight, she retrieved her sunglasses from her purse, and put them
on. She had no idea what to do next. Foster had just slammed a door, one she had
assumed would be open if she wanted it to be. Hadn’t she been a good agent?
Hadn’t she won the respect of her peers and the acclaim of her superiors?
Hadn’t she proven her dedication and willingness to work and work hard?

So why this? Why now? Had it been a fatal mistake to ask for
time to grieve? Wasn’t she allowed to be human?

What was she supposed to do now? Where was she supposed to
go?

A man in a dark blue suit talking on a cell phone bumped into
her and walked on without apology. Other people on the steps stared at her, the
only one not moving. She wanted to scream.

† † †

Cassie was preoccupied as she walked down the hallway of the hospital
and didn’t notice that the guards were gone outside the ICU door until she was
almost at the threshold.
That’s odd
, she thought, and pushed in the
door. Inside Jake’s room, a woman in a hospital uniform was making up the bed.
The monitors were gone. The extra chair was gone. Jake’s IV stand, his bedside
equipment, and his chart were gone. The flowers, cards, and pictures from his
kids … all gone.

Cassie’s chest, already tight with tension, constricted even
more. “Where is he?” she demanded.

“Ma’am?”

“Where is he? The patient who was in here … where is he?”

“I don’t know. They just told me to make up the room.”

Cassie spun around and stormed to the nurses’ station. “Where
is he? The man who was in the last room. Where did he go?”

A young nurse who looked Middle Eastern opened her mouth to
respond but an older nurse interrupted. “He is no longer with us.”

“Why? Did you move him? What happened?”

“All we know is that he is no longer with us.”

Cassie slammed her fist down on the counter. “Just tell me!
He’s my friend!”
Tell me he’s alive
, she thought to herself, although
she could not bring herself to mouth those words.

There was dead silence, the nurses staring at her with
expressionless faces. “He’s not here,” said the older nurse, “and you need to
leave.”

Where was Jake? What had happened?

She turned and left. She jogged to the elevator, pushed past
an older lady, and slammed her fist into the button that would take her to the
lobby. When the doors opened, she raced into the lobby and from there, went
outside.

The day was still sunny, and it was hot. She moved to the
edge of the sidewalk, pulled out her cell phone, and dialed Craig’s cell
number. There was no answer. She left a message and then called him at work.
Voice mail. She called two other agents on their squad, then tried Jake’s
ex-wife, Tamara.

“How should I know? They didn’t call me,” was the chilly
response.

Surely they would have notified the mother of his children if
he had died! Surely they would have done that!

Cassie re-entered the hospital, trying desperately to
remember the name of the neurosurgeon who had been treating Jake. Dr. Ohn, that
was it. Trying to look casual, she walked to a wall map of the hospital and
studied the plan. Then she took the elevator to the physical therapy wing on
the third floor. Walking past a small office she noticed an unattended white
lab jacket and for a minute considered lifting it, slipping it on, and allowing
it to be her passport through the labyrinthine maze of the hospital. But she
resisted.

Instead, she decided she would just play dumb if she were
caught. She walked through a therapy room filled with stroke victims and MS
patients and a brain injury survivor or two. No Jake. She didn’t see Dr. Ohn or
any of the therapists she knew.

She pushed through the door on the other side and headed for
the brain trauma unit on the fourth floor. Where were the doctor’s offices? Did
they have offices?

Carefully avoiding the nurses’ station, Cassie threaded her
way through the wing. Nothing. She walked past two parked gurneys and a hallway
filled with monitors, took a right, and saw a small door leading to an office.
The sign read, “Dr. Ohn.” The door was closed and locked.

“No!” Cassie cried. Unsure what to do next, Cassie tried to
regroup. Finally, she pulled out an old business card, one that identified her
as an agent, and scrawled, “Please call me” on the back, changed the phone
number on the front, and shoved it under the door of the office. Impersonating
an agent? Could they get her for that?

Retracing her steps, she moved back toward an elevator.
Rounding a corner, she almost ran over the young nurse she’d seen at the ICU
nurses’ station.

“Oh!” the nurse exclaimed.

Cassie grabbed her and backed her up to the wall. “Tell me!
You have to tell me! What happened to him?” Her voice was a harsh whisper.

The nurse’s eyes deflected.

“Please!” Cassie begged. “Please tell me.” The nurse looked
up at her. “Is he alive? Please, can you just tell me that— is he alive?”

Tears came to the nurse’s eyes. She nodded quickly, pushed
past Cassie, and hurried down the hallway. Cassie watched her go. “Thank you,”
she breathed, and she wasn’t sure to whom.

For the next four hours, Cassie lived in a cold sweat. She
felt like she herself was hovering between life and death, afraid to move,
afraid to breathe, afraid to be out of cell tower range.

When her phone finally rang, she answered it quickly.
“Hello?”

“Cassie?”

“Craig! What happened, where is he?”

“Listen, we had to move him.”

“To where? Why?”

“There was a credible threat against his life. Someone came
into the hospital looking for him. The information clerk told him Jake wasn’t
registered. Later, on her break, she saw the same guy roaming the floor near
ICU. She told the guard, and when he approached the man, he ran down the steps
and out of the ER. Cassie, we decided he wasn’t safe. We couldn’t protect him
there. So we moved him, by helo.”

“When did this happen?” Cassie gripped her cell phone as
Craig told her. It was right when she was in Foster’s office. “When can I see
him? Is he all right?”

“He’s fine. But listen, you won’t be able to see him. Not
now, not for a long time.”

“What?” Her head was spinning.

“We’ve made arrangements for him at a rehab center. He’ll be
there for a long, long time. It’ll be months, Cassie, before you can see him
again. I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Cassie cried. She was standing near a brick wall in
the Inner Harbor of Baltimore. She leaned back against it, as if its strength
could carry her. The bricks were hot. She swore she could feel the wall
swaying.

“Cassie?”

“Can’t you tell me where he is? I’m his partner!”

There was a pause at the other end. “No. I wish I could. But
I absolutely cannot. I’m sorry … I’ll be in touch, okay?”

“Why are you doing this to me!” she yelled.

Craig hesitated. “I know you’re hurting. But you know what?
It’s not about you, Cassie, it’s about him.”

• • •

Cassie left Baltimore, driving south through rush-hour
traffic on Route 2. The day seemed even hotter than it was at noon, hotter and
more miserable. Ahead, in the bright blue sky she could see planes making their
approach to the Baltimore-Washington International Airport, just to the west.
She was surrounded by commuters, all stuck in their little hot cars, waiting in
line to end their day so they could begin it all again tomorrow.

What now? Where could she go? Back to the boat? No.

Her father, Jim Davison, lived in a small beach house right
on the Bay, just half an hour from Goose Creek. The blue bungalow had a
screened-in porch that overlooked the water, two small bedrooms, a living room,
and a tiny eat-in kitchen. One of the bedrooms was a study lined with books, but
it’s small couch turned into a bed. That’s where Cassie stayed whenever she
came to visit.

Her dad wasn’t at home when she got there, but Mr. Henry, the
yellow cat, greeted her enthusiastically in the front yard. Cassie ignored him
and entered the house through the screened porch, through the door her father
always kept unlocked. Once inside, she went to the kitchen, threw some ice
cubes in a glass, and poured in Diet Dr. Pepper. She found a lime in the
refrigerator, sliced it, and put the slice and some maraschino cherries in the
drink.

Her father’s computer was in a corner of his bedroom. He’d
used the same password since she was in high school. Cassie turned it on and
logged on to the Internet. She might be out of the loop but she wasn’t stupid.

When her father walked in an hour later, she was still at it.

“Cass!”

“Hi, Dad. Hope you don’t mind …”

“No, not at all.” At age sixty Jim Davison was slim and fit.
He had a weathered complexion and his shock of silver hair made him look
distinguished and wealthy, which he decidedly was not. A retired biology
professor from the University of Maryland, he had spent his life outdoors, and
had passed on his love of nature to his two children. Cassie’s brother was a
park ranger in Utah.

Jim leaned down and kissed his daughter. He threw his hat
onto the bed. He sat down and began pulling his boots off. His khaki pants were
stained and Cassie knew he’d been in the field all day, working on something.
He might be retired, but Jim Davison still studied.

He looked at his daughter and he dropped the first boot on
the floor. “What are you up to?”

Cassie stood up and turned toward him. “Dad, something came
up. They moved Jake. There was some kind of threat. I don’t know what. Craig
Campbell just got him out as fast as he could.”

“Out of the hospital?”

Cassie nodded. “They had a helicopter and everything. Just,
zoom, and off he goes. I went there after my appointment with Foster. Oh, and
by the way, guess what? He won’t let me come back. He says I blinked.” Her
heart was pounding now and she began to realize how angry she was.

“Whoa, wait. The Bureau won’t reinstate you?”

She waved her hand. “How’s that for a crock? They say there
is a mandatory six-month review process. Anyway, so after that I went to see
Jake and he was gone, the room was empty. I was frantic. Nobody would tell me
anything. Dad, it was so scary. I didn’t know if he was dead or alive.”

“How’d you find out?”

“Finally Craig called, and he told me the story. Except, Dad,
get this, he won’t tell me where they’ve taken him, just that wherever it is,
Jake will be able to get the rehab he needs.” Cassie sat back down at the
computer and her father rose from the bed. “It’s probably that idiot Foster who
won’t let him speak. The guy’s a total jerk. I can’t believe it.

“So look,” Cassie continued, “I’m not stupid. I’m figuring it
is some place away from the population centers, away from either coast. I
looked up head injury on the Net, and now I’m in the process of identifying
rehab centers.” She sensed her father moving close behind her. “Now, they’ll
register him under a false name, but the diagnosis will be the same, so all I
have to do is …”

“Cass,” her father said softly.

“… figure out the most likely centers. I mean, I’ll check
them all if I have to …”

“Cass.” Davison squeezed his daughter’s shoulder gently.

“What?”

“Come here.” He put his hand under her arm and guided her to
her feet, then he took her in his arms and held her close to his chest. “Cass,
you’re going to have to let him go.”

She pushed back. “What?”

“Come here, come here.” He held her again. “You’ve got to let
Jake go. They don’t want you to find him. It’s no use trying.”

“But …” She could feel heat rising in her face.

“Listen, sweetheart. You need to just let him go. Let the
Bureau do what they need to do. Let Jake hide somewhere. Don’t try to find
him.”

She pushed him away. “You don’t understand! You don’t know
what I did to him! This is all my fault!”

“What are you talking about?”