I shifted into first, got my hands on the
wheel and pulled the car forward onto the road going the opposite
way. I was heading to the hospital. As I started forward, a fleet
of black cars swarmed up the road. After them came a couple of
forlorn sheriff’s cruisers with lights flashing and sirens blaring.
They didn’t block my way, so I inched past, risking a glance in the
rearview as I went. Hammie and Moose had completely disappeared. I
stopped the car and turned around, but it wasn’t my imagination.
They were completely gone. The four-wheeler stood where I left it,
Madison was still planted with gun leveled and the other two thugs
had their hands held high. I couldn’t see where the thug’s gun had
gone, but I assumed it was on the ground at Madison’s feet.
As I started forward again the armada came to
a halt, and almost immediately the area was crawling with agents.
Time for me to be gone. I eased the car forward and drove down the
hill like a little old lady. It took forever for me to reach the
freeway, and driving the interstate in handcuffs gave me the
heebie-jeebies. It wasn’t long before I reached the hospital exit
and finally pulled into the emergency parking lot. I slid into a
space next to the Jeep, pulled the keys out of the ignition, and
walked through the sliding doors into the emergency waiting room.
The handcuffs made me feel conspicuous, like a criminal, and I was
happy to see Wendy and Paris huddled in a corner.
“Do you need us to remove those cuffs?” The
receptionist sounded bored, like people with cuffs walked into the
emergency room every day.
“Uh, yeah. That’d be great.”
“You’ve got to register, then.” She handed me
a clipboard and a pen. Turns out writing with your hands in cuffs
is tricky when you’re trying to hold a clipboard. I set it on the
counter and had better luck holding the papers still with my left
arm while I wrote with my right. I skipped over the part about how
I got the injury. I had my doubts that they’d remove them if they
knew some kind of special agent put them on me.
“How did you get that bruise on your cheek?
That’s a doozey.”
“Had a minor fender bender. It’s
nothing.”
“Have a seat. It’ll be a few minutes.”
“Bree!” Wendy jumped up and threw her arms
around me. “We were afraid you wouldn’t be able to get away. I’m so
glad you’re here.”
“What’s this?” She grabbed my arm. “How did
you get cuffs on you?”
“Richard Hambecker. Where’s Beau? Getting a
new cast on?”
“They were giving him the third degree about
how he got all banged up.” Paris patted the seat beside her. Wendy
and I sat down, our backs to the room.
“But why did Richard cuff you?” asked
Paris.
“Didn’t want me to leave, I guess.” I decided
not to blow his cover in front of the girls. “But I took off
anyway. Didn't want to stick around for the firefight.”
“Firefight?” Wendy looked at me
wide-eyed.
“Madison Truefellow, I don’t know if you know
her, she’s the woman who showed up and locked Guy in her car. She
had her gun out ready to mow down anyone who moved, and I decided
that was as good a time as any to take my leave.”
“Wow.” Wendy looked shell shocked. “That must
have been frightening.”
“You said the doctor was giving Beau the
third degree. What did he say?” I was curious about how Beau would
play this, kidnap
vs.
accident victim.
“Said he jumped into the back of the Jeep
while Wendy was driving. She got startled and slammed on the brake,
and he got banged up. Don’t think they totally bought it. Looks too
much like he was beat up.”
“We were in with him, but they took him into
x-ray, and we came out to get something to eat. They said they’d
let us know when he got back.”
“Bree MacGowan?”
I turned around to see a male nurse dressed
in blue with a clipboard in his hand. I got up and went to him.
“I’m Bree.”
He looked down at my wrists, and his lips
twitched.
“Nice bracelets,” he said. “Who gave you
those?”
“Nobody important. I’d sure like to get rid
of them though.”
“We’re here to serve.” He swung around and
led me into the treatment area where he sat me on a bed and told me
to wait.
After about fifteen minutes I decided I was
tired of sitting and rested my head on the pillow. I was on the
brink of sleep when I heard a gurney wheeled into the next cubicle,
which wouldn’t have interrupted the sleep process except for a
familiar voice.
“You’re very good with your hands.” Beau’s
voice was clear from the next cubicle.
“I’ve been doing this for a while. Hold
still.”
This was too good. I pushed myself up off the
bed and walked out into the hall, around the glass partition and
into Beau’s room. Beau was lying on the gurney, eyes half shut, not
from his injuries. Painkillers, I thought. A hospital tech was
wrapping Beau’s leg in plaster. She was alternating strips of pink,
black and green.
“Wow,” I said, “that’s one colorful
cast.”
The tech jumped and dropped a swath of black
plaster onto the floor. Beau looked up and smiled. “Bree, you found
me. Come here and give me a kiss. I’m feeling very good.”
“Can’t,” I said. “I’ve got to go back and
have my cuffs removed.”
“Don’t bother,” said a voice behind me. “I
can do that in here. Didn’t know you two knew each other.”
“She’s my girl.” Beau’s voice warmed me for a
moment until I remembered the cuffs and the broken leg wouldn’t be
easy to explain away, besides the fact he was high on painkillers
and never talked that way about me normally.
“A woman in cuffs and a guy with a broken
leg. Actually, no. A woman in cuffs and a guy with a broken leg in
a cast that’s been totaled. You know what? I’m not even going to
ask. In fact, I don’t want to know. We’re keeping the paperwork
separate on this one.” He pulled out a key and released me from the
cuffs.
“I thought you were going to cut them
off.”
“We tell people that for effect, but we’ve
got handcuff keys here. You’d be surprised how often people get
themselves locked into them and lose the keys. Sign here.”
I signed my release papers and pulled up a
chair next to Beau. Wendy and Paris could wait in the lobby.
“Feeling pretty good, aren’t you?” I took
Beau’s hand and watched the tech finishing up the neon cast.
“Yep. Nothing hurts at the moment.” Beau
smiled at me. “But don’t worry, I know I’m going to be in a world
of hurt when the drugs wear off. You still owe me a kiss.”
I leaned over and kissed him gently on the
cheek. Painkillers or no, his mouth was bruised and swollen, and I
couldn’t believe that it wouldn’t hurt if I touched it.
“Right.” The tech gathered up the trash left
over from the re-casting. “That should be set by the time we get
the paperwork ready to be signed. Hang out for a while, and someone
will be back to sign you out.”
Beau nodded and closed his eyes. I leaned
back in my chair. The muscles in my neck were complaining again. My
face hurt, too. I needed heat and a really good massage, both of
which I could possibly get here, but it would mean checking back in
and waiting and God knew what else. I’d be okay. Maybe I could get
Beau to give me one of his painkillers.
I sat dozing beside Beau until the lady with
the discharge papers and a computer on a cart came rolling into the
room. Beau was still asleep, so I answered the questions and signed
the papers while she entered information into the computer. A nurse
showed up with a wheelchair just as the computer was being wheeled
away, so I roused Beau and helped him into the chair and rolled him
out into the waiting room where Wendy and Paris were talking to
Fogel.
Fogel must have caught sight of us from the
corner of his eye, because he swung around and jogged over.
“My God, Bree, I’ve been worried about you.
You wouldn’t believe the uproar your disappearance has caused. I’ve
got Brooks calling me every couple of hours. Steve Leftsky is
pretending to attend a law enforcement convention in Sacramento
while he haunts me and walks around the river looking under rocks
for your cold body. Tom Maverick calls more than Brooks does. Says
his wife is beside herself with worry, but I think he’s just as
concerned.”
“But you knew where I was, or at least who I
was with, didn’t you? Couldn’t you assure everyone that I was in
good hands?”
“I assumed you were with someone safe, but I
didn’t know who it was or where they’d taken you until I got a call
from Madison Truefellow alerting me you were in Sacramento. Today,
of course, I got a call for backup from her just a little while
ago. I sent backup and headed down here to make sure you’re okay.
The girls there,” he nodded to Paris and Wendy, “told me you were
handcuffed but that you weren’t harmed. That true?”
“I’m all right. I can’t say the same about
Richard Hambecker. I poisoned the whole household trying to get
away.”
Fogel reached down and shook Beau’s hand.
“Forgive me for ignoring you, Beau, I didn’t
know you were back in California. Were you in on the Bree search,
too?”
“I didn’t know Bree was missing. A day after
we flew home I was approached by a guy who wanted me to do some
stonework. I told him I wouldn’t be able to do any actual work for
several weeks, but he said come out and do the planning. So I did.
I had no idea I was a captive until Bree came to rescue me. Dense,
huh?”
Fogel turned his attention back to me.
“So where have you been? No, that I can’t
guess.” He glanced over to where Wendy and Paris were collecting
their trash.
“Senator Wallace’s house in Sacramento.”
Fogel looked like he wanted to slap a hand to
his forehead.
“God, that man has nerve. He must think we’re
stupid,” he said. “We’ve heard from the wife’s lawyer. She was
going to divorce him.”
“He’s trying to get me to finger a couple of
parolees for his wife’s murder. Tried to appeal to my sense of
community, my friends. He grabbed Beau, and then he tried to bribe
me. I don’t have any proof, but I’m pretty sure he killed his
wife.”
“I’m going to take you over to the office to
make a statement. Then I’m keeping you there until the situation at
the Wallace cabin is resolved.”
Paris drove the Jeep, Wendy drove Madison’s
rental car, and Beau and I rode in Fogel’s squad car. Fogel wasn’t
taking any chances on us disappearing between the hospital and the
station. Wendy and Paris decided it was in their interest to stick
with us until Fogel thought it was safe for them to go home—their
own homes, not back to Wallace’s.
Fogel sat me down with a female officer in
the squad room while Beau was led down the hall to a conference
room. I thought it was kind of funny that they separated us, but it
probably was standard operating procedure.
It took forever for me to tell the entire
story. I started with finding Lily Wallace and continued from there
into being abducted from my home. I could tell the officer didn’t
completely believe Hambecker existed, and Moose was a big question
mark in her mind, as well. She kept harping back to his association
with the FBI, but I knew less than nothing about him. I figured at
least half of what he told me was a lie, and Moose, too. I felt a
little sad about the loss of the blue shoes and matching dress. I
really liked those shoes.
I must have spent a little too much time
describing the shoes, because the officer was looking at me like I
was off my rocker. I got back to the point and finished my story,
ending at the hospital. She printed a copy from her computer and
gave it to me to sign while she went to check in with Fogel. I
could tell she didn’t like me. Everything about her, from the look
on her face to the way she held herself when she walked away, told
me that she didn’t approve.
I started to read, and the copy
editor/reporter in me compelled me to correct grammar along with
the details of my account. I scratched out “black dress” and wrote
in “blue dress and matching shoes.” I noted that the limo was
bulletproof and soundproof and that a passenger could be locked in.
I described the pictures of the two men Wallace was trying to
frame. When she returned I was describing the cabin and the road
that led to it.
The officer looked at the corrections and
sighed.
“Are those really necessary?” she asked.
“Only if accuracy is important. But I’ll make
the changes if you want. I’m good with a keyboard.”
“Sorry, I’m not giving up my keyboard to
anybody.” She sat and made the changes. I watched carefully, making
sure she got the details right, and I re-read the whole thing
before signing it.
“You know,” I said, looking up at her, “you
don’t really need to put a comma …”
The look she was giving me would freeze a
polar bear. Maybe a lesson in grammar wasn’t really appropriate
right now.
She led me back into Fogel’s office and left
me there while Fogel read my report. I sat quietly watching him
scan the document. It was about five minutes before he looked
up.
“You know what I find really interesting
about firsthand witness accounts? The different way in which people
see and describe the world. Beau says, and I quote, ‘Bree got us
out of there.’ You, however, go into a detailed description of how
you told Wendy and Paris to drive Beau to the hospital, what kind
of gun Ms. Truefellow was holding, how many people were on snow
machines, and how many were on the ATV. It fascinates me.”
“I’m a reporter. I can’t help myself.” I
shrugged.
“I gathered. Mary told me that you about made
her crazy with your corrections to your statement. Beau glanced
over his and signed on the dotted line. Like I said, people
fascinate me.” Fogel smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He
looked a little greyer around the temples than when I’d left
California the last time.