Fifteen
Claire paced the floor of the waiting room outside the surgical ward of Desert Hills Hospital. Ben had just gone into surgery. She had no idea what was happening behind the closed double doors at the end of the hall. All she knew was that Ben had been covered in blood and unconscious when she had roared up to the door of the emergency entrance and slammed on the brakes, jumped out of the car and burst through the doors, shouting for help.
On the way to the hospital, she’d hit her cell number for Detective Fred Owens of the LAPD, and though he was off duty this late at night, he had answered on the second ring.
“I saw Bridger, Detective,” she’d said. “Sam was with him. I got the license number of his truck.” She had rattled off the plate number, told him about the cockfight, and that she was on the way to the hospital with Sam’s father, Ben Slocum, who had been shot trying to rescue his son.
“I’m on it,” Owens had said. “Good luck with Slocum. I’ll be in touch.” She had called the LAPD detective instead of 911, certain Owens would have a far better chance of getting the cooperation of the El Paso police department than she would. She prayed the local authorities would find the pickup Troy was driving before he could escape with Sam.
The waiting room was a little chilly. A heavyset black woman and her daughter were the only other occupants. They sat quietly at the other end of the room, talking in whispers.
Now that there was nothing more she could do for Ben except wait, she dug out Ben’s iPhone, retrieved from his pockets along with his insurance information. The only person she knew to call was his friend Sol Greenway, whose name was in his contacts.
His voice sounded groggy when he answered. “Greenway.”
“Hello, Sol. My name is Claire Chastain. I’m calling for Ben Slocum. There’s...there’s been a shooting.”
“Jesus. Is Ben all right?”
“He’s in surgery. I’m at the hospital in El Paso.” Her voice broke. “I’m sorry to...sorry to bother you so late. But I didn’t know who else to call.”
“It’s all right...it’s not a bother. Ben’s a friend. Just tell me what’s going on.”
She told him about Sam and the cockfight and the shooting and that Ben was in surgery. She told him she didn’t know much more than that. Then she started crying. “I’m so worried. I just want Ben to be okay.”
“Take it easy, Claire,” Sol said gently. “I know who you are. I know you and Ben have been working together to find his son. Ben doesn’t have any family but he has lots of friends. We’re all here for both of you.”
She took a deep breath and forced herself under control. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall apart.”
“It’s okay. Sounds like it’s been a hard night.”
“Yes...”
“They’re going to call you, Claire. Once they know Ben’s been hurt, there’s no way I can stop them. Odds are some of them are going to show up in El Paso. All you have to do is hold on till they get there.”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “The name of the hospital is Desert Hills. As soon as he’s out of surgery, I’ll call you.”
“That’s good. I’ll tell the others. Take care of yourself, Claire. I know that’s what Ben would want.”
She cried for a couple of minutes after she hung up and was glad the waiting room was as large as it was and that the woman and her daughter were far enough away to give her some privacy.
During the next thirty minutes, she heard from the owner of the company Ben worked for, Trace Rawlins, a friend named Jake Cantrell and another named Alex Justice, both investigators in his office. Justice was on his honeymoon in Costa Rica. He offered to cut the trip short if Ben needed him. She’d told him the same thing she had told the others, that there was nothing he could do until Ben was out of surgery and she had spoken to the doctors about his condition.
A woman named Annie Mayberry was the last to call. “Don’t you worry, honey,” she said. “Ben’s too tough to let a little thing like a bullet take him out. Besides, all of us here’ll be prayin’ for him.”
“Thank you, Annie.”
“Ben’s family. Family sticks together. You just let me know if you need anything.”
“I will.” She didn’t know why, but she felt better after she talked to Annie.
Another hour slid past. Claire shoved to her feet as the surgeon, Dr. Garcia, a silver-haired man in a set of green scrubs, older, with a kind face and weary expression, shoved open the waiting room door.
“Doctor...how is he? Is Ben going to be all right?”
Garcia smiled, a good sign. “He’s in amazing physical condition. He came through the surgery extremely well. There was no artery or nerve involvement, and the damage to his spleen was minor. The path the bullet traveled missed any vital organs and bones.”
Her legs went weak. She sat back down in the chair. “Thank God.”
“Your husband is a very lucky man.”
The doctor had assumed Ben was her husband. It was easier than trying to explain their complicated situation. And being his wife allowed her visitation. It bothered her that the sound of it felt somehow right.
“Ben’s lost a lot of blood,” the doctor said, “but aside from that, he’s doing fine. Assuming there’s no infection, he’ll be out of here in a couple of days.”
A second shot of relief slid through her. He was going to be all right, and he would be getting out very soon. Still, it was a gunshot wound, which by law had to be reported to the authorities. She had told the doctor the truth of what had occurred, but she would have to go over the details again when the police arrived. She was hoping Detective Owens’s phone call would help smooth the way.
Feeling somewhat better, she rose on legs a little less shaky. “May I see him?”
“At the moment, he’s in recovery. You can see him in a couple of hours. I’d suggest you go back to your motel room and get some sleep.”
Of course she didn’t have a motel room. And she wanted to see Ben, make sure he was all right and let him know she was there. “I’ll wait here, if you don’t mind.”
Garcia nodded. “The cafeteria’s down the hall. Why don’t you at least get something to eat?”
She wasn’t hungry. But it had been hours since she’d put anything in her stomach and she was beginning to feel light-headed. “All right. I have a call to make first. Thank you, Doctor. For everything.”
“I’ll let you know when you can go in.” The doctor left the waiting room.
As soon as the door closed, Claire dug Ben’s phone back out and phoned Sol with the news that Ben had come through surgery very well. That, if all went well, he would be released in a couple of days.
“That’s great news. I’ll call the others. Let me know if either of you needs anything.”
“I will. Thank you, Sol.” Ending the call, she dropped the phone back into her purse.
Ignoring the way her stomach rebelled at the thought of food, Claire left the waiting room and made her way down to the cafeteria. The smell of fish and fried chicken made the bile rise in her throat, but she had to eat something. She forced down a bowl of soup and drank a glass of milk, then purchased a cup of coffee to go and went back upstairs to the waiting room.
She had just stepped inside when a towering man in a T-shirt and jeans pushed through the door. He was at least six-five, with an even more muscular build than Ben, and a beautiful dark-haired woman on his arm.
“Are you Claire?” the man asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m Jake Cantrell, and this is my wife, Sage. We thought you might need some company.”
Her eyes welled. Sol had said Ben had friends. Apparently very good ones. “Thank you so much for coming.”
Sage stepped forward and gave her a hug, and Claire gratefully returned it.
Jake led her over to the sofa, gently urged her to sit down. “Sol just called. He said it looks like Ben’s going to be okay.”
Claire nodded, a lump lodged in her throat. “Yes...”
“How about you?” Sage asked gently, her eyes on Claire’s bruised cheek and swollen lip. “Are you all right?”
Claire swallowed. “I’m okay. It’s just... It’s been a really hard night.”
Sage sat down next to her, and Jake took a seat in the chair across from them. “Why don’t you tell me what happened,” he said.
“It’s a long story.”
Sage reached over and took hold of her cold hand. “I gather you’re waiting to see Ben.”
“That’s right.”
“Then we have plenty of time,” Jake said.
Claire looked up at him. He was amazingly handsome, the perfect match to his lovely, sophisticated wife. “You came all the way from Houston. How did... How did you get here so fast?”
“Company jet,” Sage answered with a smile. “It’s one of the perks of being the granddaughter of the CEO.”
“Don’t let her kid you,” Jake said with a hint of pride. “Sage just got promoted to president of the company. She’s Marine Drilling’s top dog. She earned the right to use that jet.”
“It’s only temporary,” Sage said. “I’ve decided I want more time with my husband. But it’s an exciting challenge right now.”
Claire studied the woman sitting next to her, impressed, but not really surprised. Sage Cantrell had the poise and confidence of a woman who could succeed at whatever she wanted. And apparently, she was also a great friend to Ben. “I’m so glad you came.”
“Me, too,” Sage said. “We heard about Ben’s son and that the two of you have been trying to find him. Tell us what happened.”
For the next half hour, Claire told Ben’s friends about searching for Sam, about the cockfight and that the boy had been there with Troy Bridger, who had taken him from his foster home in L.A. She told them how a friend of Bridger’s called Duke Hutchins had shot Ben, and how Bridger had gotten away with Sam.
By the time she had finished, she felt drained, and the guilt she felt in failing Sam had resurfaced. Claire shoved the emotion away.
“I talked to Detective Owens,” she said. “He’s in charge of the case in L.A. He got in touch with the local police here in El Paso.”
“That’s good,” Jake said. “They’ll want to talk to you. Maybe I can help with that.”
“Jake specializes in private security,” Sage explained, squeezing Claire’s hand. “He knows how to handle situations like this. You aren’t alone now, Claire. We’re here to help.”
They had come for Ben, but they were here to help her, too. For the first time since all of this happened, Claire thought maybe everything was going to be okay.
* * *
Ben woke up feeling groggy, barely able to open his eyes. His side ached like hell, but the pain was numbed by the drugs dripping through the tube going into his arm. It took a moment to sort out what had happened and where he was. For an instant, he thought he was back in the jungle, in a makeshift triage tent being treated for the knife wound he’d received on a mission gone bad.
“Ben, it’s Claire.”
The soft sound of her voice floated over him. The feel of her hand gently holding on to his brought the night’s events rushing back.
“You’re out of surgery, Ben. The doctor says you came through really well. The bullet missed any vital organs or bones. You’re going to be okay.”
His eyes slid closed. Good news. Damned good news. He hadn’t been sure how bad he’d been hit, but he knew one thing for sure. He wouldn’t be in the hospital. He’d be lying dead in some ditch if it hadn’t been for Claire.
“That’s...good,” he managed to say.
“They’re hoping to release you in a couple of days.”
He nodded, relieved by the words. He moistened his lips, which felt dry and chafed, and his words came out rusty. “Did the cops...get Bridger?”
Claire shook her head and he caught the glint of tears. “No.”
“We’ll find him...Claire. I...promise.”
She managed a smile, but it looked tired and strained. “Your friends are here, Jake and Sage. They flew down from Houston.”
He nodded, wasn’t surprised. He was glad they were here to help Claire. He thought of how close she had come to being hurt or even killed. He couldn’t remember a time he’d worried so much about a woman.
He heard the door open. Saw Jake walk in. Sage, the classy brunette Jake had fallen head over heels in love with, was beside him. Both of them looked worried, but they were smiling.
“The doctor says you’re going to be okay,” Sage said, leaning over to brush a kiss on his cheek.
“That’s what...Claire...tells me.”
“She’s been really worried about you.”
He’d been downright terrified for her when the shooting had started, but he didn’t say that.
“I guess you didn’t see this one coming, hey, Ice?” Jake said.
“Should have. Stupid...mistake.”
Jake shook his head. “According to Claire, you were busy trying to save her from Bridger. She said it was a good thing you showed up when you did.”
“Should have been...watching for...Hutchins. Tell me they’ve...got him in...custody.”
“Sorry. I talked to one of the El Paso P.D. detectives half an hour ago. Hutchins is in the wind, just like Bridger.”
Ben’s hand fisted where it lay on top of the sheet. He wanted Bridger. Wanted Hutchins. More than that, he wanted his son.
“You’ll find them, Ben,” Jake said, reading his mind. “And when you do, you’ll find your boy.”
Ben’s jaw felt tight. “Count on...it,” he said before his eyes slid closed and he gave in to the pull of the drugs flowing through his veins.