The administrator blinked then rallied to inform him, “Dr. Hughes is an exceptional pediatric critical care doctor. We’re lucky to have her.”
Chace held her gaze, nodded and replied, “Glad to hear that. But if there’s more that can be done for him, I want it done. Even if he has to be transferred to another hospital.”
Quickly, she gave him information he didn’t give a fuck about, “We’re a fully-equipped Level II Trauma Center. The only one in the mountains outside Loveland and Grand Junction.”
“He’s beyond trauma care,” Chace reminded her.
“We’re an excellent facility,” she pressed.
“I believe you. I still want everything that can be done for Malachi done,” Chace returned.
“It’s my understanding the boy cleaned the wounds and treated them. Gangrene didn’t set in. He may lose some mobility but the threat of him losing them entirely is over.”
“Ma’am,” Chace leaned slightly toward her, “for an indeterminate amount of time, that boy has been livin’ in a shed in the woods by himself with no light, no heat and the toilet he used was a hole he dug himself in the corner. He does not need to endure that only to endure learnin’ to live without a limb or, possibly, losin’ some use of a limb. I get you got pride in your hospital. What you need to get is that I got the funds to see to it that boy gets the best care he can get. So I’m askin’ you to help me get him that. If you don’t, I’ll find a way to do it myself. Now, please, talk to Dr. Hughes and save that kid’s hands and foot.”
She held his gaze and whispered, “I’ll speak with Dr. Hughes.”
“Obliged,” Chace replied.
She got his point loud and clear and he knew this when she reached directly for her phone.
Chace gave her a nod, got out of the chair he was sitting in opposite her at her desk and walked out of her office. As he did, his phone rang.
He pulled it out, looked at the display and took the call.
“Keaton.”
“Blood’s a dead end, brother,” Deck said in his ear.
Deck had called earlier informing Chace he’d be with the officers who combed the woods that morning. Now, he sounded like he was in his truck.
“Nothing?” Chace asked.
“Few drops like they said, leadin’ northeast. Then they disappeared. Maybe he saw them and covered them. Don’t know. Just know there’s nothin’.”
“Tracks?”
“None of those either,” Deck replied. “Wind, snowmelt and settling, even efforts to cover them disappeared. The only thing we found is a trail leadin’ to the north side of town, goin’ in at the Carnal Hotel end and another leadin’ toward the library. Both sets, deep, back and forth, packed. But, you didn’t know he was out there, could be anyone’s since there were so many of them, packed in the snow with snowmelt wiping out individual prints so now it’s just a trough in the snow. But when he got close to the shed, he started to erase them. Smart kid. Didn’t know the trajectory, didn’t know the shed existed, which probably no one knew, by the time he made the effort to get rid of his trail, it could lead anywhere. No one would know where he was heading.”
Chace stopped at the elevator but stood to the side and didn’t tag a button.
“Your take?” he asked quietly and Deck answered immediately, knowing what Chace was asking.
“No fuckin’ clue. Cops say in those hills there are two housing developments, one upscale, one middle income and a bunch of older, individual residences not contained in a development. Beyond that, mountain’s too steep to build homes. Even so, cops say, and I could see for myself, it’d be near on impossible for him to climb up to any of those residences. Slope of the hill gives way to sheer rock face. I’m gonna grab some lunch then go back and look around more, see if there’s some opening where he could climb. If there is, see what it leads to and if he didn’t bother to cover those tracks. It was me, I was nine and someone was beatin’ the shit outta me, I’d be gone. I wouldn’t stay close. But for whatever reason, he went back for more. None of his prints, no one else’s either. No one found him at his shed and did that shit to him then left him there. So, I had to go with my gut, he was stickin’ close for a purpose. What that is, no fuckin’ clue.”
“Siblings,” Chace whispered.