Idiot, Lucy berated herself as she waited for Walden to pick up. What the hell had she been thinking? Believing for an instant that the psycho who'd taken and tortured her would ever keep his word? Fear and guilt collided. Walden finally answered but was cut off almost immediately as the call was dropped.
"You won't get any reception," the nurse said, sliding the phone from Lucy's hand and pocketing it. "Can't have it near the MRI battery, anyway."
The elevator doors opened and they entered a dimly lit hall. It smelled less hospital and more moldy basement. The tiny squeak from the chair's wheels on the dingy linoleum echoed and bounced from the exposed pipes overhead. The walls were cinder block, painted an institutional pale green meant to be calming but that reminded Lucy of baby puke.
Which made her think of Megan. Wished she'd had time to talk to her. But they'd be here soon-it was only a fifteen-minute drive.
But what about Mom? "Is there another phone I can use?" she asked the nurse. "I really need to check in with my family."
They reached the far end of the corridor, where the MRI suite was. The deputy opened the door to a waiting area, took a look inside, saw the room was empty, held the door as the nurse pushed Lucy inside, then closed the door to stand guard outside.
A row of chairs stood along the near wall. The far wall had several curtained changing areas. A reception desk, empty except for a phone and a computer terminal, guarded a large solid door leading to the MRI examination area. On the wall behind the desk was an emergency call button with a small intercom speaker.
"You can use the phone as soon as we get you prepped," the nurse told her.
"How long will this take?"
"Thirty-forty minutes." The nurse scrutinized the bag of IV fluid hanging from the pole extending up from the back of the chair. "All done. That's your first dose of antibiotic." With swift fingers, she detached the tubing from the IV, leaving Lucy's hands free. "Your vitals have been fine, and they have a special monitor of their own." She removed the sticky monitor leads from Lucy's chest and unhooked her from the portable monitor that hung from the back of the chair.
"Okay, now I need you to answer this questionnaire." She took a clipboard from a hook on the wall. "You work on that while I go check on the tech." She nodded to the large red-and-white sign on the opposite wall, warning about the MRI's powerful magnet. "Don't skip any questions. We don't want any surprises. I once had a patient who forgot about a dental bridge-not a pretty sight."
Lucy nodded and took the pen she offered. The nurse left, and Lucy began the slow process of wheeling the chair with her one good hand, ignoring the questionnaire, to head to the desk where the phone was. To her surprise, the deputy entered and moved to stand in front of her, thumbs hooked into his duty belt, fingers stretched along the wide belt buckle.
"You know officer safety comes first," he said. His way of apologizing.
"Of course," she answered. He'd done everything by the book. Wasn't anyone's fault that the book didn't cover situations like this.
"And after finding Lloyd like that … " His voice trailed off. "You sure he's the one did this to you? Sure doesn't sound like him. No history of violence. Bit of a prepper type, keeps to himself, except for his dogs of course. Trains them and rents them out as guard dogs. Loves those animals more than most humans."
A sudden thought speared through Lucy, distracting her from her mission to get to the phone. No-she couldn't have. But the barn had been dark. She'd never gotten a good look at man's face, just the faintest impression as they'd struggled. "Photo?"
"Of Lloyd Cramer?" He pulled a driver's license encased in an evidence bag from his pocket, held it in front of her. "This is him."
Brown hair. Brown eyes. Lucy hunched over the photo, studying it for clues, her stomach revolting as her fingers gripped the plastic bag so tight it almost slipped through them. This was not her man-not the man who'd kidnapped her.
The man was still out there. Her family was still in danger.
She'd killed the wrong man.
Now
7:38 p.m.
For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the buzz and crackle of the fluorescent lights. Lucy tried to gather her thoughts. Had she killed an innocent man? No, he had a gun, had attacked her … Farmers carry guns. She was on his land, hiding in the dark … No, the dog was his. He had to be working with the man who'd taken her.
The man who was still out there. Her family wasn't safe yet.
The phone on the desk rang, the shrill noise jump-starting Lucy's attention. She thrust her fear aside as the deputy answered. "Yeah, she's right here." He wheeled her to the desk and handed her the receiver. "It's Special Agent Walden."
Walden. The man had impeccable timing. "There's definitely one subject still out there," she said. "Where are you?"
"I'm on my way to Riverside." His voice sounded distant, heavy.
"Is my mother with you?"
A pause. "Lucy, I need you to wait at the hospital. Don't leave until I get there."
"Why? What happened?" Fear clenched her heart so tight she couldn't breathe. "Are Nick and Megan okay?" Then she realized he hadn't answered her original question. "Walden, let me speak to my mom."
"I can't. Lucy-"
She knew that tone. Had used it herself when preparing victims for bad news. The worst possible kind of news. "No. No, it can't be. He said-"
The man had said he'd go after one of her family. A man of his word.
Suddenly the deputy and everything else in the room seemed very far away as Lucy's world collapsed. Not her mother … Denial, always the first instinct. No protection against the truth revealed by Walden's silence.
Finally, Lucy found her voice again. "What happened?"
"The locals I sent to your house found her. She's on her way to Three Rivers."
Relief rushed over her. "She's alive. What did he do to her?"
Bastard must have gone straight to her home after leaving Lucy in the pit. Maybe seven o'clock wasn't a deadline but the time when his window of opportunity opened. Her mind picked at the tiny details, refusing to recognize the gruesome truth. Her mother injured, her home a crime scene … and all of it her fault.
Lucy closed her eyes, tried to see her mother's face. She couldn't. Her entire body was awash in cold, more numb than it had been when she climbed from the pit into the snow. She swallowed twice before she could force any words out. "How bad?"
He hesitated, and she knew it was worse than she'd dared think.
"Don't make me imagine it, Walden."
They both knew the things Lucy had seen in the course of her work. The stuff of nightmares. The truth could only be a tonic to whatever horrors her fear and imagination could conjure.
"A knife," Walden finally said. "He used a knife."
Christ. The phone slipped from Lucy's grasp. She fumbled for it on her lap.
"She was unconscious but still had a pulse," Walden continued. "But the medics-"
"She's not going to die." In Lucy's head the words translated to an anguished plea: she couldn't die. Not her mother. Not because of Lucy.
"Nick? Megan?" Lucy asked, both hands awkwardly gripping the phone. Please, God … She couldn't finish the silent prayer, too fearful it might not be answered.
"Just got off the phone with Nick. They were pulling into the Riverside parking lot. I told him to find you and stay there. I'm only a few minutes out, and the county is sending more men as well. I was just calling to make sure you were still there. I'll alert hospital security as soon as I hang up."
His voice, calmly delineating the mundane tasks associated with protecting her and her family, helped to keep her focused. It didn't stop the roiling in her gut or the chills that had suddenly overtaken her, but if Nick and Megan were safe, nothing else mattered. Except … Mom … No, she still couldn't quite make that fact feel real. Her mother. She clutched at the blanket over her chest with the fingers of her left hand, twisting it into a tight ball wedged against her splint. Not Mom. No. She was going to be all right. She had to be.
A knock came at the door, and the deputy answered. Nick and Megan?
"Talk later," she mumbled into the phone, then hung up. With her good hand, she turned the wheelchair around to face the door. Saw the deputy standing, relaxed. Couldn't see who he was speaking to but heard the words "FBI."
The deputy backed up, holding the door open for the people outside. Lucy straightened, anxious to see Nick and Megan but also haunted by the bad news she'd have to share with them.
The door clicked shut, and the deputy turned to her, leaving his back to the newcomer. A man in a conservative dark suit. Brown hair, brown eyes. Six feet. Caucasian.
Her captor.
Lucy's warning emerged in a rasp, too late to help. The gunshot was a mere muffled pop that would never make it past the thick walls of the MRI suite. The deputy's eyes went wide, then he slumped to the ground, a gaping bloody hole in the base of his skull.
"Nice to see you again, Lucy." The man stepped over the deputy's corpse. "Well, maybe not for you."
He glanced at his watch. "Good thing I was just down the road at the technical college. Remember the campus safety initiative you spearheaded? Hooking up all the local colleges with the NCIC and the Uniform Crime Reports databases so serial rapists could be identified and caught sooner? Can't tell you how helpful the folks over there were. So ready to help an FBI agent chasing a sexual predator."