chapter 39
Tucson, Arizona
Sonoran Medical Center
She’s pretty banged up.”
Gabe stared through the windows to the emergency room unit where three doctors worked on Summer. She was shoving away their hands, groggy but complaining loudly, demanding to see Gabe and Izzy. “Give me the details, Teague.”
“You want the technical stuff, I can throw that on you. Trust me, it won’t amount to more than this. She has a head wound, substantial blood loss, but nothing invasive. She narrowly missed a broken rib, and she has a broken arm, which they’re preparing to set right now.” Izzy smiled slightly. “If she stops raising hell long enough, that is. She’s also got extensive lacerations on the chest and neck from breaking glass.”
Gabe swallowed. “How bad?”
“She’s going to need some cosmetic surgery. Nothing crucial that has to be sewed back on, if that’s what you mean.”
Gabe closed his eyes. “Yeah. That’s what I meant.” He forced away nightmarish visions and told himself sternly that she was alive. That was the bottom line. “Anything else?”
“Mild concussion. Some evidence of shock. Significant blood loss, which is being managed aggressively. The good news is she has no sign of hemorrhaging, no sign of internal injuries. If you hadn’t been airlifted to the hospital and stabilized so fast . . .” Izzy shrugged, letting the words trail away.
Gabe knew it was true, but seeing Summer pale and struggling didn’t seem to be cause for rejoicing. “What about Underhill?”
“He didn’t make it. Never regained consciousness, I’m afraid.”
After a moment Gabe shook his head. “So we didn’t get that name he promised us, after all.”
“Summer did. It was the first thing out of her mouth when she woke up in the chopper. Not panda, pal. Underhill was trying to say Amanda.”
Gabe stared at Summer, his leg throbbing in spite of the massive amount of painkillers the orthopedic specialist had ordered for him. “Tate Winslow’s mother? What does she have to do with this? The woman’s got to be seventy years old.”
“And sins are confined to youth? I just spoke to the senator in Laramie. Right now Cara O’Connor is in intensive care undergoing treatment for leptin poisoning induced by ground-up rosary pea seeds, courtesy of Amanda Winslow. None of us saw it coming.”
“That’s crazy.” Gabe rubbed his neck. “What’s Cara’s prognosis?”
“Too soon to say. She threw up fairly soon, which limited the amount of toxin she ingested. The ER team gave her gastric lavage and now she’s on IV fluids to stabilize her blood chemistry. So far, there’s been no sign of convulsions or cardiac involvement. The big question is whether she’ll lose kidney function, and that’s going to take time to assess.”
Gabe still couldn’t imagine the charming and stately Amanda Winslow planning anything like this. “I still can’t get a grip on this. I’ve known the Winslows forever, and they’re a great family.”
“From what Cara told Tate, his mother was irrational, afraid that news of Cara’s abortion would destroy his shot at Pennsylvania Avenue. To her, that meant everything. But it’s over now. Amanda and Patrick spun out on a mountain road. By the time they were found, both of them were dead.”
Gabe was silent for a long time. “I still don’t see how Amanda knew about Cara’s visit to Mexico.”
“You ready for this? She was working with Costello.” Izzy’s face hardened. “The chef was one of Costello’s people, too.”
“Patrick?” Gabe couldn’t hide his disbelief. “The man had the disposition of a pet rabbit.”
“A good actor, and hardly tame. Costello had every detail of Cara’s past researched during his trial. Eventually he discovered those missing weeks she spent in Mexico and he planned to blackmail her into working for him. That meant probing the evidence and testimony of key prosecution witnesses. The scary thing is, he might have succeeded, too. Apparently, the old forensic lab in San Francisco was a nightmare, because a leaking roof contaminated dozens of lab samples, invalidating some of the evidence actually gathered in the case. Thanks to Costello, two key witnesses also announced they wanted to change their testimony. Yes, he might have walked away, free and clear.”
“If Cara O’Connor hadn’t stayed tough,” Gabe said quietly. “How are Sophy and Audra?”
“Shaken up, scared crazy, but physically fine. They’re not leaving their mother’s side.”
“And the senator?”
“I spoke to him briefly. He told me exactly what he knew and exactly what Sophy had told him. None of it was pretty, considering that his mother appears to have arranged a complicated plan to murder his bride-to-be. The media is already on the scent, and they still don’t know the half of it.”
“Let’s hope they never do. Amanda’s dead and so is Patrick. I suppose they’ve paid their price.” Gabe grimaced as the wheelchair he was sitting in brushed the wall. “Damned chair. Damned knees.” He stared impassively at Izzy. “How much did they tell you?”
“That you’re going to be immobilized for two, maybe three months. After that there’s an experimental bone implant technique they want to try out.”
“The relevant word is experimental.” Gabe turned away, looking through the window at Summer, who had finally stopped arguing with the nearest doctor. An IV line hung from her arm and she was fighting to keep her eyes open.
Stubborn, difficult woman.
Wonderful woman.
“Don’t tell her about me, Izzy. I don’t want her to know.”
Izzy frowned. “What do you mean?”
“It was time to leave, anyway.” Gabe’s hands tightened on the arms of the wheelchair. “This makes things cleaner.”
Izzy glared at Gabe. “Cleaner for who?”
“For both of us,” Gabe said quietly. “You think I should hang the hell around? Hold her hand and act warm and fuzzy? Sorry, but I don’t do warm and fuzzy.” Gabe’s jaw worked up and down. “I may not walk again, Teague. We both know that changes everything.”
Izzy crossed his arms in stony silence.
Gabe snorted. “I figured you’d say that.”
“I said nothing, Morgan.”
“That ugly, beat-up face of yours said it for you. You think I’m some kind of shit for cutting things off with her, and that’s too damned bad.” Gabe gripped the big wheels and started down the hall, moving awkwardly in a wave of unrelenting pain.
“That’s right, you are a first-class shit. Even more, you’re a fool. Now stop trying to run into a wall and let me help you.”
As Izzy took charge of the cumbersome chair, Gabe glared down at his legs, immobile in horizontal hip-to-ankle casts. “You’re wrong, Izzy. For once in my life, I’m being smart. And for the record, I can manage just fine.”
“Sure you can. I hear they’re holding a spot for you in the Boston Marathon, too.”
Gabe’s face was dotted with sweat. His hands fisted in his lap as he fought through a wall of dizziness and pain. “Damned straight they are. I just might win.”
At the end of the hall, a Navy orderly was waiting. He saluted Gabe smartly. “The helicopter is ready, sir.”
Gabe looked back at Summer. For a moment the silence hung heavy, and then he cleared his throat. “Take care of her,” he said hoarsely. “If she asks, tell her you don’t know where I am. Tell her I dropped out and started a new religion down in South America somewhere.”
Izzy shook his head. “You’re a real hard-ass, Morgan. I’ll tell her, but don’t ask me to like it.” Izzy hit a button on the wall, and the automatic door opened with a hiss. “And just for the record, my face may be busted up, but it still looks better than your ugly-as-sin mug.”
A hint of a smile brushed Gabe’s mouth.
He turned back for a last look at Summer, motionless in a white bed, a monitor beeping beside her, and his smile faded. “She’ll forget about me in a week, anyway. Couple of clean-cut young suits will whisk her back to Philadelphia, give her flowers, take her out to a fancy restaurant, and I’m history.”
Guys with whole bodies, Gabe thought grimly. Guys who can still walk. Young guys with some kind of future to offer a woman who didn’t need more pain and uncertainty in her life.
“In fact, I’m probably history already,” he muttered. His jaw locked hard as he gripped Izzy’s hand for a moment. Then the orderly pushed him over the threshold, out to the waiting military transport.