Then Jamie was there, nearly hyperventilating, her jean jacket and purse falling off her, like she had climbed a rope ladder to get there. She was thin and pale and weak but still she ran and stumbled to Bailey, hitting the floor on all fours and crawling the last step to her. Bailey said, “Mama,” and slung her arms around Jamie’s neck, and Jamie grabbed her and moaned, her mouth open, cupping Bailey’s head and sweeping her hands over Bailey’s hair.
Then everyone was in the administrator’s small office: Traynor, Junior, Gail and Arlen, Maggie, two doctors and two nurses. Gail went to Jamie and Bailey and started hugging them too and thanking God, and Cap started to back out and make his way to the door.
Then Arlen was in front of him, pumping his hand, saying thank you and asking how can we thank you and remarking on what a blessed day this was. And Cap thought the day was blessed until it turned on you, and if they couldn’t find Kylie it would turn quick, sweet cream into bad milk.
A blessed day. Well, whatever you say.
Then a dark blot clouded the corner of his eye, and he turned and saw that it was Vega, standing against the wall at the end of the hallway. Dressed in her black uniform, the pants and sleeves coated with dust and dirt from the Macht cabin. Her face was scabbed and scraped on one side, a bandage over her eye where McKie had hit her with something hard and sharp.
Gail White called for her husband, her voice strongly reminiscent of a bow saw on plywood, and Arlen immediately stopped thanking Cap and God and hustled into the office.
Cap turned back to Vega and took some steps, and then she took some steps until they were close, and he could really see the scratches on her cheek like an animal skin pattern and the gloss of the bacitracin, the gray-blue bruise rising around the puncture wound, swelling her eyebrow.
“I didn’t think they’d let you out so soon,” said Cap. “They said you were dehydrated.”
“I’m okay,” she said, pressing her lips together. “They got me on some kinda painkiller.”
She squinted one eye at him and looked a little tipsy.
“You’re not supposed to be up, are you?” he said.
She shrugged, nodded to the office.
“They all in there?”
Cap nodded.
“Bailey tell you anything?” Vega said.
“Not really. We were holding questioning until Jamie could get here.”
“Where’s Dena?”
“In ICU. Which in this hospital is a room with a sign on the door that says ICU. She’s conscious but not at all lucid.”
“What about McKie?”
“He’s in a bed. Local sheriff’s watching him.”
“Awake though?”
“Yeah. Concussed,” Cap said, then smiled at her. “What’d you do to him anyway?”
“Hit him with a plank-a-wood,” she said, words running together. Then she pointed to the bandage. “Same one he got me with.”
Cap looked at the bandage, imagined a plank of wood hitting him in the forehead, a jagged edge or a nail punching a hole in his skull. He took in the parts of Vega’s face, including the puffy eyebrow and scrapes, and did not think he would look as good in such a situation. The kiss in the woods came back to him fast, his embarrassment and desire taking the form of a stomach cramp. He pulled at his belt.
“You okay?” Vega said. “What’s wrong with your pants?”
“Stomach thing,” he said.
She ignored him, because she was either high or disinterested, and he was grateful. Then he wondered if she remembered it at all, the kiss, if it had been wiped away by the trauma or if she’d slipped it into the inside pocket where she kept all things vulnerable and emotive.
Then a crowd came out of the office: Traynor and Junior and the Fed, the doctors and the nurse, the hospital administrator, and Maggie Shambley. The administrator shut the door.
“Family needs a few minutes,” said Traynor in Cap’s direction.
“Miss Vega,” said Maggie, rushing up, then to Cap, “Thank you both. I knew you could do it,” she said to Vega, taking one hand in both of hers. “I read about how you found that boy in Modesto, and I just knew it.”
She whispered the last few words, overcome. Vega gave a mandatory smile, and her eyes were lazy from the drugs, also sad because she was Vega—it was Friday and they were still one girl down.
—
After everyone had thanked everyone two or three times, and Traynor and the Fed had laid out the schedule, they’d all decided that it made sense to do the interviews right there in the hospital to (a) get the freshest statements; (b) play keep-away from the media; (c) get McKie and possibly Dena to talk before they figured out they wanted lawyers.
They were gathered in the hospital staff room, just marginally larger than the administrator’s office. The Brandt-White family lawyer was named Sam, tall and horsey with blond highlighted hair and a blouse with a silky ascot attached. Gail White had whispered to Vega in the hallway, “She’s from Philly,” to explain the sophistication, foreign and apparent. As Sam spoke she held out one hand and cut across it with the other, like she was chopping onions.
“Jamie’s ready, and Bailey’s ready,” she said. “You’ve got to wait for the social worker from CPS or you’re going to get heat from your DA.”
“We’re fine with that,” said Traynor. “We know most of them. Do we know if Dena Macht’s awake?”
“In and out,” said Cap, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet. “McKie’s awake.”
“Anyone coming for either of them?” said Traynor.
“Hospital notified Dena’s parents,” said Junior. “They’re on their way. Still looking for next of kin for McKie.”
“I’ll take McKie,” said the Fed, fairly definitive. Then, “My supervisor’s meeting us in Denville.”
“I’d like someone in the room,” said Traynor. “Junior?”
Junior nodded. Cap cracked his neck to one side quickly, without sound. Vega recognized it as a signal that he was getting ready to be pissed off.
“Hey, we brought him in,” he said, looking at Vega. “We should be in there too. At least one of us.”
Traynor shrugged very gently and said to the Fed, “I have no problem with that.”
The Fed thought about it for a minute and then said, “I lead.”
“Of course,” said Cap.
And Junior will be there as window dressing, thought Vega.
“You can’t interview McKie right now,” said Sam the lawyer to Cap.
He shook his head, incredulous, preparing again to be pissed off.
“Why the hell not?”
“Because the Brandt-White family wants you to interview Bailey. With the social worker,” she said.
Cap was confused now. All the men were, actually, but Vega knew exactly what was coming. She’d seen it when she’d come down the stairs from the Macht cabin, the blurry vision of Bailey’s arms linked around Cap’s waist, the little girl’s face turned up to him, making a study of his chin.
“Jamie Brandt asked for me?” he said.
That made Sam the lawyer smile, tickled that he didn’t understand.
“Jamie agreed, but it was Bailey who asked for you,” she said.
They all took a second to absorb that. Vega watched as Cap’s brow softened.
“Fair enough,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Then Vega can be the third with McKie.”
Junior bristled and said, “Maybe not the best idea seeing she so recently beat the crap out of him?”
“I’ll stand somewhere where he can’t see me,” she offered.