Chapter 63
Jack hit speed dial on his encrypted cell phone as he jogged through the darkness, Heather’s unconscious body cradled in his arms.
“Yes?” Janet’s voice in his ear sounded good.
“Alert the rest of our team that we need a cleanup at the location I just uplinked before this call.”
“I’ll get them moving. Harry?”
“Gone. Anyway, it’s a cave and there has been some wet work in it. I want both bodies gone and the place wiped clean ASAP. Let the team know vehicles won’t make it out here. They’ll need a chopper.”
“Got it.”
“And they’ll need to clean Harry’s telephone company van, too.”
“I’ll take care of that myself. Where is it?”
“No. It’s parked too close to the McFarland home. I don’t want to risk your being seen. Let the boys do it, but tell them to hurry.” Jack rattled off the address where the van was parked.
“It’s going to take a couple of hours to get the team out here. They’re in Santa Fe, but the chopper will have to come from Albuquerque.”
“I want it done tonight, both places.”
“Anything else?”
“That’s it.”
The phone disconnected as Janet terminated the call from her end. Jack knew she would be efficient. She always was.
Jack glanced down at the young girl in his arms. Her pulse was steady, although shock had clearly set in, dropping her blood pressure to a dangerous level. Her head had a bloody welt where she had been struck, probably a slap across the face that bounced her head back against the rock wall. Jack wanted to get her to the emergency room as quickly as possible, so the doctors could get her stabilized. A concussion wasn’t usually deadly, but if there were other internal injuries, they could be.
Jack reached his car, which was several blocks closer than the McFarland house, and gently laid Heather in the backseat, belting her prostrate form to the seat. Then, carefully stowing his holster and special equipment deep in some nearby bushes, he slid into the driver’s seat and fired the engine, sending the car roaring through the sleeping neighborhoods on its way toward the hospital.
The Audi squealed to a stop in front of the emergency entrance. Within seconds, Jack lifted Heather’s limp form and walked into the emergency room. Two alert nurses grabbed a gurney and helped him lay her down, then wheeled her away. Another nurse looked at the blood-soaked rags knotted around his arm, her gaze then passing across his naked upper torso. Suddenly Jack was very glad that the emergency room was largely empty at this hour of this night.
“Doctor, would you take a look at this man?”
“Take care of the girl first,” Jack said.
“She is already being looked at by another physician,” said the doctor, a young man who appeared to be an intern. “Since you can obviously walk, please follow me to the examination room.”
Jack paused momentarily. “Nurse, the police are going to want to be involved in this incident. Also, please call Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert McFarland in White Rock. That’s their little girl in there. Her name is Heather.”
“Sir.”
“Yes.”
“If you’ll give me your keys, I’ll have someone move your car and park it for you.”
Jack reached into his pocket and set the key ring on the counter.
The nurse's face tightened as if she were about to ask more questions, but Jack turned and followed the doctor from the room. Behind him, he could hear the nurse pick up the telephone and dial.
The doctor’s office was a typical windowless room, just large enough for a bed-table and chairs. Jack took a seat on the table as the doctor retrieved some scissors from the cabinet and set to work cutting away the blood-encrusted scraps of his shirt.
The doctor frowned at the long wound, which once again began bleeding freely. Grabbing a squirt bottle filled with Betadine, he poured it liberally over the arm and then scrubbed vigorously at the wound with some sterile pads, tossing them into a biohazard bin near his feet. Satisfied with the cleaning, he grabbed a needle, injected a deadening agent along the length of the cut, and set to work stitching.
“That’s quite a cut there.”
“Yes.”
“It looks like you have had a few scrapes in your day.”
Jack nodded. “I was an Army Ranger when I was younger. The short version of a long story is that I took a few bullets and managed to get myself captured.”
“Most of those look like knife wounds.”
“Yeah. Let’s just say that the Geneva Convention gets loosely interpreted in some parts of the world.”
The intern’s eyes widened momentarily, and then he resumed his stitching. “I’m sorry. This is going to leave a scar.”
Jack’s grin made the young doctor realize how absurd the statement was. He chuckled softly.
“How’s the girl doing?” Jack asked.
“I’ll check on her as soon as I’m done here.”
Just as the doctor finished with the last of the sixty stitches, the police arrived, one officer heading off to check on Heather while the other approached Jack, now wearing an airy hospital gown in place of his shirt.
Jack had barely started his statement when Gil and Anna McFarland arrived, panic-stricken looks on both their faces. They walked directly to the nurse's station, oblivious to Jack or the policeman at the side of the room.
“We’re the McFarlands. You have our daughter here. How is she?” Mrs. McFarland’s voice broke.
Just then, Jack’s doctor reappeared, making his way immediately up to Anna and Gil McFarland. “I am Doctor Forsythe. I just left your daughter’s room. She is in shock with a mild concussion and some minor scrapes and bruises. Otherwise, she’ll be just fine.”
“Oh, thank God. Can we see her?”
“In a few minutes, but you won’t be able to stay long. She just regained consciousness.”
Anna McFarland turned and buried her head in her husband’s shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, her sobs coming in great shuddering bursts of relief.
Suddenly Gil McFarland saw Jack and the policeman holding the clipboard. Gil grabbed Anna’s hand and led her toward them, his eyes both questioning and accusing.
“Jack, what happened to our daughter?”
Jack stood, glancing at the policeman, who nodded an okay.
Jack’s story spilled from his lips, his hand shaking in a seemingly involuntary reaction as he spoke. He told how he was returning late from a water sampling survey down in one of the deep canyons near the McFarland house. As he reached his car he saw someone run into the woods carrying a small person’s body.
Concerned, Jack had chased the guy, finally catching up to the man in the deep woods, a mile or so along. As Jack got close, he yelled for the man to stop, and the fellow had tossed Heather down, then turned to attack Jack. It was the Rag Man.
Only Jack’s old army training had saved him, although he had taken a nasty cut on his arm. In the end, the Rag Man had run off, disappearing into the darkness. Jack had rushed Heather here as fast as he could.
As he finished the tale, Anna McFarland threw her arms around Jack, hugging him hard enough that it threatened to break open his stitches.
“Oh, Jack. Thank you so much for saving our little girl.” She kissed him firmly on the cheek, her tears leaving a wet saltiness that dripped into the corner of Jack’s mouth.
As she released him, Gil McFarland stepped in and gave him another bear hug.
Then the doctor interrupted. “Mr. and Mrs. McFarland, you can see your daughter now.”
With one more grateful glance at Jack, the McFarlands turned and disappeared down the hall after the doctor.
The policeman cleared his throat. “Now, Mr. Johnson. If you don’t mind sitting back down, let’s go through all this from the beginning, for my report. Then, if you don’t mind, I would like to have a look through your car.”
“Certainly, officer.”
Jack took a deep breath and began the story from the beginning, pausing to answer questions and to let the officer scribble notes onto the forms on his clipboard. It was going to be a very long night.