Killing Season: A Thriller

“Friend.”

“You’re not a relative?”

“No.”

“Where are her parents?”

Oh shit!

What the hell was he going to tell George and June?

“I’ll get her parents down there.”

“I can’t do anything without her parents’ permission. What’s her name?”

“Lilly Tafoya.”

“Her parents?”

“George and June Tafoya.”

“And your name again?”

“Benjamin Vicksburg. As in the Civil War battle.”

“And give me a couple of phone numbers where I can reach you or people who are involved in this.”

Ben gave him his cell number, but he couldn’t think of any other number aside from Haley’s. He looked up and Sam was nearby. He shoved the phone in his hand. “This is a throat doctor for Lilly. Please tell him I’m legit.”

Sam took the phone. “This is Detective Sam Shanks of the River Remez PD. Who am I talking to?”

Ben went back to Lilly, who was now on a gurney. He took her hand. “I’m coming with you, baby.”

Sam went up to Ben and gave him back the phone. “How’d you find that guy?”

“The wonders of the Internet. I’m going with her to Albuquerque.”

“To the medical center?”

Ben nodded.

“We need to talk, but first you need to get yourself treated.”

“Whatever.”

“Not whatever. Now.”

They were loading Lilly into the ambulance. “I gotta go with her, Sam. I’ll meet you in Albuquerque.” Ben climbed inside.

No one bothered to object.

The hatch closed. The sirens blared and the ambulance took off. Ben closed his eyes and prayed.





Chapter 15




They were separated as soon as they hit the emergency corridor in the medical center—Lilly to the OR and Ben into an ER examining room. Slowly, he took off his clothes and put on a robe.

Suddenly he was a patient.

A nurse swabbed his chest. He hadn’t really felt the stab beyond the initial jolt, but he sure as hell felt the cleansing. He was dressed with a temporary bandage to stop the bleeding, although by that point, it had trickled down to a slow leak. With an IV in his arm, he waited on an examining table—alone and utterly depleted.

He reached into the back pocket of his pants and made the hardest call of his life. How the hell did Shanks or any of them do this? The line clicked in. He heard himself talk although he didn’t even recognize his own voice.

“George Tafoya, please. It’s an emergency.”

“Name?”

“Benjamin Vicksburg.”

Several minutes later: “Ben, what’s going on?”

His throat momentarily seized up. Then he said, “Something’s happened to Lilly—”

“Oh my God! Is she okay?”

“She’s . . . in surgery at the Albuquerque medical center. You and June have to come down—”

“What the fuck happened?” When the kid didn’t answer immediately, George said, “Ben, what the fuck happened? Tell me!”

A long pause. “She was attacked, George—”

“How?” Then a gasp. “Is it the guy you asked me about? Kevin Barnes?”

“Yes.”

“Is she okay?”

“She’s in surgery—”

“Answer the fucking question, Ben!” His voice became clogged. “Is my baby okay?”

“I rode with her in the ambulance. When they took her into surgery, she was alive and conscious. You’ve got to get down here. The surgeon is going to need your permission to operate on her beyond emergency measures.”

“Oh my God! How the fuck did this happen?” Ben heard panting over the line. “Fuck this. June and I will be down as soon as I can figure out—”

“I’m sorry, George.” But the line was already dead.

Detective Milton Ortiz came into the room. Ben hadn’t seen him since Katie Doogan’s body had been found. The detective’s eyes went to Ben’s bandaged chest and then to his face.

“Sam asked you to keep an eye on me?”

“He asked me to check in on you—make sure you got treated.”

“I got treated.”

“Are you all right?”

“I think it’s going to be a very long time before I’m all right.” He swiped at his wet face. “Have you heard anything about Lilly?”

Ortiz shook his head. “Sam’s on his way.”

“I’ve got to call my parents. Let them know I’m okay.”

“They’ve been contacted.”

“I can talk if you want to ask me questions.”

“I’ll leave that up to Sam.”

“He’s mad at me.”

“You scared the shit out of him.” Ortiz looked at him. “We all know it was self-defense.”

With a gun down his throat?

Ortiz went on. “He stabbed you, and you were jacked up, not in your right mind. It was self-defense and that’s all there is to it. I don’t want to hear anything else. Got it?”

Ben got it. “What’d they do with Barnes?”

“I’m sure he’s locked up somewhere, demanding to speak to his lawyer.”

“He is a lawyer.”

“Then I’m sure he knows the ropes.”

“I fucked up, Detecive. He got her right under my nose. It’s totally my fault.”

Ortiz’s eyes narrowed. “Son, you listen to me and listen good. You need to put the blame where it belongs. On Kevin Barnes. He did it. He is solely responsible. Not you.”

“But—”

“There are no buts, Vicksburg.”

Ben didn’t answer. Nothing was going to help until he was sure that Lilly would be all right—at least medically. She’d never, ever truly be all right again, and that was on him.

Some guy in a white coat came into the room. His name tag said dr. norman millstein. He looked about sixty: steel-wool thinning gray hair and a mustache. He washed his hands, introducing himself, and then he started to peel away the gauze. “You’ve got quite a fan club out there asking about you. There must be over a dozen kids clogging up the waiting room, wondering if you’re okay.”

“You mean if Lilly’s okay . . . the girl who came in with me. Do you know what’s happening with her?”

“She’s still in surgery.”

“Is she okay?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know who’s doing the surgery?”

“There is a team.”

“Is she stabilized?”

“I don’t know.” He took off the bandages. “You need stitches, young man.”

“Whatever.”

“Not whatever. You may not realize it, but you’ve got some pretty nasty-looking wounds.”

“I know. I hurt.”

Ortiz took out his phone. “I’d like to take pictures before you close him up. It may help him down the line . . . with the case.”

“Go ahead.”

As the detective zeroed in on the wounds, Ben looked down. He had been stabbed and sliced in several places—nasty-looking gashes.

Ortiz finished up his photo taking. To Millstein he asked, “Do you know if the River Remez police have arrived?”

“Not sure.”

He turned to Ben. “I’ll go see if I can find Shanks. I know he wants to talk to you.”

“Thanks,” Ben said, although he didn’t know why. After Ortiz left, he said, “Could you find out about the girl?”

The doctor was opening drawers and taking stuff out, preparing to sew him up. He said, “I’ll do what I can, but truthfully, you’ll know when I know.”

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