The faces of those missing girls were being kept from the public while their families were told in private of their recovery. Three couldn’t wait to get home, but two had refused to go and insisted on staying with Eden.
The final count was five dead, all men. Four were guards protecting the perimeter, and the fifth was Adrian, down in the cave. Two women were still in critical condition with third-and fourth-degree burns, and thirteen more of various ages and injury had been treated and released.
Lauren had been hurt badly. Fletcher’s bullet caught her in the shoulder and she’d landed awkwardly when she fell from the tree, breaking both legs. She was being held in the prison ward of the hospital. She’d shot a police officer, and was going to be in jail for a long time.
Curtis Lott was telling all sorts of tales, magnanimously praising the FBI for their actions in freeing her people from the tyrannical clutches of the madman, Adrian. She claimed she was a peaceful preacher, only doing what was best for her flock.
Eventually a jury would decide her fate. After a night of interviews, she’d made her first appearance in federal court, and a bail hearing had been scheduled in three days’ time. Sam truly hoped she’d be kept behind bars. She couldn’t imagine this woman walking free, out on bail, but anything could happen.
Curtis Lott was a sudden anticelebrity, the object of scorn and derision and fascination across every news outlet in the country.
What was even more worrisome, while Xander was getting X-rayed and casted the previous night, Sam had gone to visit Kaylie, only to be told she’d checked herself out against doctor’s orders and was nowhere to be found.
Sam didn’t know if they would ever have all the answers she wanted. June Davidson was working on tracing every detail surrounding Doug Matcliff’s life in Lynchburg, but there were holes in his story, holes so big and deep it seemed unlikely they’d ever get the whole truth.
They needed time to unravel everything, to put all the pieces together, to have it all make sense. She knew one thing—she was going to be on her guard until Kaylie resurfaced.
The doctor huffed out of the room, followed by Fletcher, wearing clean clothes. She wondered for a minute how, then saw Jordan bringing up the rear, a hospital bag in her hand.
She saw Sam and waved. “Talk to him. He refuses to stay, refuses a wheelchair. Maybe he’ll listen to you.”
Fletcher turned and saw Sam and Xander sitting in the chairs outside his room. He went to Sam, pulled her to her feet and kissed her on the lips. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“You saved my life.” He slapped Xander on his good shoulder. “I’d hug you, too, if it wouldn’t hurt us both. Where’s Thor? I need to kiss that dog, too.”
“Jordan’s right, Fletch. You’re clearly out of your mind. You need to stay,” Sam said. But she was grinning. He was okay. She’d saved him.
“We’re not done. This case isn’t finished. We need to get the rest wrapped before things fall apart. Let’s roll.”
He took two steps and his legs buckled. He started to go down. Sam and Jordan caught him, got him into the chair Sam had been sitting in. He was pale but began to laugh.
Sam touched the bandage on his neck. It was much bigger than her own. “Slow down there, cowboy.”
“Okay, maybe I need that wheelchair, after all.”
Jordan shook her head and went to get the nurse.
“You should stay another day, Fletch. Maybe I didn’t stitch you up tight enough. Your blood pressure could drop. You could throw a clot. It’s better for you to stay in bed, rest.”
“You did it all right and you know it. I trust you more than these yahoos. Nurse showed up in the middle of the night, woke me up and said it was time for my enema. She had the wrong freaking room. I just want out.”
“Okay. We’ll get you out. What did you mean, the case isn’t finished?”
“June Davidson called me. He hasn’t called you yet?”
Sam shook her head.
“You can stop fretting about why Doug Matcliff contacted you. It was Rolph Benedict. He sent the letter. He was under instructions to put the game into play if Doug ended up dead. I don’t think he knew he would be a target, as well.”
“Fletch, you aren’t talking sense. Slow down, breathe and explain.”
“All right. Davidson got into Benedict’s computer. Mac Picker wasn’t lying. He didn’t have Savage’s, or Matcliff’s, will on the firm’s computers.”
“So Doug Matcliff didn’t make a will?” Sam asked.
“He did, but Benedict did it for him. Privately. According to Benedict’s notes, Matcliff was sick. Leukemia. He didn’t have long, and he must have decided it was time to set things right.”
“So who killed him?”
“It must have been Adrian. There was a note in Matcliff’s file. It said, ‘I’m coming for you. Don’t make me kill you. Do the right thing.’”
Sam shook her head. “Adrian whispered something to me as he died. He said he didn’t kill Doug.”
“I don’t know what to believe. We’ll have to keep on it, try to solve the case.”