“Goddamn it,” he muttered, recognizing the nurse who had cooked him fish at Drew Elliott’s lake house. “Melba Price . . .”
He knelt over the supine form, certain that Nurse Price was dead, but when he touched her arm he felt warmth in her skin, not the marblelike otherness of death. Encouraged, he patted her cheek, then pinched it.
Melba flinched, then began to cough.
“Melba?” he said. “It’s Walt Garrity. You’re safe now. Can you hear me?”
Her eyes opened, bloodshot and filled with fear.
“It’s me, ma’am, Tom’s friend.”
“Captain Garrity?” the nurse rasped.
“That’s right. Do you know where Tom is?”
She shook her head, then gripped at her right breast. “Oh, Lord, it hurts. They shot me, I think.”
“Move your hand,” Walt told her, noticing something odd on her blouse. As carefully as he could, he tugged at a small bloom of orange and red. As soon as he touched the filaments, he knew he was holding a tranquilizer dart.
“They shot you,” he told her, “but not with a bullet. They darted you, like they would a dangerous animal.”
She blinked in confusion for several seconds. “I guess I didn’t turn out to be very dangerous.”
Walt tugged out the dart, and the nurse barely noticed. “Did you see anybody before they got you?” he asked, tossing the dart against the wall.
“A man in black. He had a black mask on, and he was holding a gun. That’s all I know. I didn’t even have time to shout a warning.”
“Sounds like a police SWAT team. And I know there’s one working for the other side. I was pinned down less than fifty yards away from them last night.”
Melba carefully raised herself on one elbow. “Tom’s not here?” she asked, clearly afraid to hear the answer.
“No. They took him. But since they darted you, I’m hoping they only did the same to him.”
“God, I hope I didn’t lead them to him.”
Walt didn’t care what had led Knox’s storm troopers here. It had always been a matter of time, and he told Melba as much, not that it made her feel better.
Getting to his feet, Walt helped the nurse up and into the living room. He laid her on a large sofa, then quickly searched the rest of the house, but he found nothing useful.
“I hope they took his medicine,” Melba said when he returned to the living room.
“I didn’t see any, so I assume they did.” What should I do now? Walt wondered, fighting the exhaustion that last night’s tense hours had caused.
“Have you talked to Caitlin Masters?” Melba asked.
Walt’s eyes popped wide open. “Caitlin? What would she know about Tom?”
“She was here last night.”
He couldn’t believe it. “How did she find this place?”
“She had somebody following me. Tom asked her not to tell anyone where he was, not even Penn.”
“I’ll bet she didn’t. Otherwise Penn would have been here long ago.” Walt took out his safest burn phone and called the Natchez Examiner. The receptionist told him Caitlin wasn’t available. It took some time, but he finally persuaded Caitlin’s editor to call her wherever she was and tell her to call the number Walt gave him.
While Walt waited, he got Melba a tall glass of water.
She took a long sip. “What do they mean to do to Dr. Cage, Captain? He seemed to think they wanted him dead.”
Walt wanted to reassure her, but he found that his breath wouldn’t come. His diaphragm felt paralyzed. After years of thinking of his friend as invincible, he suddenly realized that this time Tom’s luck might have run out. “I hate to say it, Melba, but . . . depending on Forrest Knox’s plans, Tom could be dead.”
Melba covered her eyes with her free hand and shook her head.
“But don’t count him out yet,” Walt added. “Not till you see him laid flat in a coffin. Tom could talk a fox out of eating a chicken if he put his mind to it. If he can get in front of Knox, face-to-face, then maybe he can talk his way into a deal. I’ve been in some pretty tight spots with him, and we always found a way out.”
“He’s old and tired now, though, Captain. Bone tired. I saw it in his eyes.”
Walt gave her a fierce grin. “He’s no older than I am, girl. We still got some kick left in us.” He squeezed Melba’s hand. “You watch and see.”
Walt jumped when his burn phone rang, but it was only Caitlin calling him back.
“Tell me it’s not bad news,” she said.
“It’s not the worst,” Walt said. “Not yet, anyway. But I’m where you were last night, and our mutual friend is missing.”
“Oh, God. What about Melba?”
“She’s here. Hurt, but not permanently. It sounds to me like a SWAT team took Tom, but I’ve heard nothing about any arrest. What about you?”
“No. Oh, Walt . . . this was my worst nightmare.”
“I’ll bet it was.”
“Real cops would have arrested Melba, too, wouldn’t they?”
“That’s affirmative.”
“Jesus. Have you spoken to Penn yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Walt, please . . . don’t tell Penn I was there last night. I haven’t told him, and if he finds out I kept that from him, he’ll never forgive me. Never. It was a hard decision, but Tom made me promise not to tell Penn anything.”
“I won’t tell him you were here, if I can avoid it.”
“God, thank you. What are you going to do now?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve got a line on Forrest’s location, so I’ll probably go to where he is. If Tom is still alive, he may be with or near that bastard. Where are you now?”
“Almost down to the Lusahatcha Swamp. John Kaiser’s wife is with me, but Kaiser doesn’t know that. I don’t want Penn to know, either, unless you’re forced to tell him I’m down here.”
“Got it. But what are you looking for? I was just down there myself. You don’t need to go anywhere near that Valhalla camp.”
“I’m not. But I am following a story. Are the Knoxes at their hunting camp?”