Thick fog penetrated my thoughts, its tentacles clawing at my memories. It wasn’t new, my mind knew its tricks. I’d played this game before. Steel shutters of internal defenses snapped shut and barricades went up. From somewhere deep I knew to stop the invasion. Its deception was difficult to fight. There was a tunnel and a light. The brightness enticed, pulled me closer, and my battered, exhausted body longed to surrender.
The promise of reprieve it offered was real. All I needed to do was lift the shutters and allow the fog to infiltrate. My reward would be rest and time to heal. The appeal grew as pain from my back and cramping from my midsection remained on my side of the barricades. If only I could open them a little, enough to allow the fog to enter, it would save me from the pain.
My desire grew . . . maybe I could allow just a little . . .
CHAPTER 39
Jacoby
Pictures from the home in Bloomfield Hills came via the agents’ cell phones as Adler and I were driven back to the airport. I lost any semblance of professionalism as Sara’s picture materialized.
She was there and she was alive, unconscious and alone in the house.
I didn’t know why Richards had left her, but at that moment I didn’t care. My cheeks dampened as tears of relief freely flowed. I wiped them away, watching as Agent Adler’s iPad continued the slide show of images. As they materialized, I saw her bandaged eyes and my gut twisted. Thankfully, even though her eyes were once again bandaged, I didn’t see injuries like those of the other women at the Eastern Light. What I did see, what made my heart skip a beat, was the bag of clear liquid hanging from the pole near her bed.
“Tell them to disconnect the medicine, immediately,” I said, my body shaking with fear. That motherfucker had told me he’d try to keep her off the medicine. Now there it was.
“But Jacoby, you don’t know what it is—”
“I do.” My volume grew. “I don’t know the name of it, but it’s a memory suppressant. I’ve seen it attached to more women than I want to admit. Tell them to disconnect it immediately.”
Agent Adler handed me the phone. “Here, you’re not only an agent, you’re her husband. You tell them.”
“Agent?” I said, speaking to someone in Bloomfield Hills.
“Yes, sir, this is Agent Billings.”
“Billings, disconnect the medicine immediately.”
“Sir, by what authority . . .”
“I’m Agent Jacoby McAlister.” My name had made the rounds. They all knew I was the one who’d been inside The Light.
“Sir, it’s an honor—”
“Disconnect the medicine. As soon as the paramedics get there, have them start her on IV fluids. We need to dilute the medication in her system. Make certain that they only give her clear fluids. How is she?”
“She’s unconscious and, well . . .”
“Tell me, Agent.”
“Sir, her eyes are covered, but there appears to be bruising around one eye that has drifted down her cheek. I’d assume it’s not new.”
I shook my head. “It’s not. She was struck on Friday. Is there anything else?”
“We haven’t tried to move her, but there’s blood on her dress.” He gasped.
“What?”
“I haven’t removed her dress.”
“Don’t!”
“Sir, her back is bloody. I’d wager to guess she’s been whipped.”
My teeth clenched together as rage surged through my veins. I was going to kill Richards when I saw him. The asshole got all up in arms over a blackened eye and he whipped her! “Get her to the hospital. I want an agent beside her every minute. Do not let anyone prescribe any medication. There’s a possibility that she’s pregnant.”
“Yes, sir, but . . .”
“What is it?”
“I’m not a doctor, but she’s bleeding, and not just from her back.”
My chest became tight. “Get her to the hospital. Make sure she’s safe. That’s all that matters.”
When the line was disconnected I handed the phone back to Adler and turned toward the window. The sun was rising in Anchorage, creating long shadows over the streets as we neared the airport.
As I fought the overwhelming sadness of the loss of something I hadn’t realized I wanted, I tried to concentrate on the positive. Sara was alive. I cleared my throat. “What about Richards?” I asked.