In his ear, the operator was speaking. ‘Are you there, Detective?’
Rafe held his hand up to Sasha, silently asking for her patience. ‘I am.’
‘I have an ambulance en route and I’ve notified the airport security to send any medical personnel they have on duty. I’ve also put out a BOLO on Harry Franklin, aka Ephraim Burton. Is he armed?’
‘He must have been. His victim is bleeding from a wound in her side.’ He looked around and saw a blade on the floor, having skittered up against the wall when he’d taken Burton down. He pointed it out to the officer, who’d returned and was doing a good job with crowd control. ‘Make sure no one touches it. Please.’ To the operator he said, ‘He had a switchblade. He dropped it. It’s here and needs to be taken into evidence.’
‘I’ll inform the first responders. Can you stay on the line?’
Rafe had to focus, a difficult task with Mercy sitting beside him like a doll, staring at nothing. ‘I need to contact the FBI. They’ve been searching for him. But I can use my sister’s phone for that.’ He held out his hand and Sasha dropped her phone into his palm. He almost called Gideon but decided against it. Gideon would be too frantic to think clearly if Rafe blurted out that Mercy was here and had been hurt. Rafe had known that Mercy was coming because Sasha had told him, but they’d agreed not to tell Gideon, as Mercy had specifically asked that she be allowed to contact him herself when she arrived.
She hadn’t told Sasha anything about informing Rafe, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. All of his anxiety had been wrapped around seeing her again – would she be glad to see him or would his presence cause her to run back to New Orleans again?
Six weeks ago he’d pushed her for more than she’d been comfortable giving him, kissing her when he’d known he needed to give her more time. More space. She was a survivor of rape, for God’s sake. But he hadn’t been able to resist her lips when she’d smiled at him on that last day. But then she’d run, leaving him to curse himself for his clumsiness.
Why she’d returned was still a mystery, but Mercy wasn’t saying anything right now, even though her friend from New Orleans was pleading with her to speak.
I can’t do this to Gideon. Not right now. He found the contact information for Special Agent in Charge Molina, Gideon’s boss.
He handed Sasha his phone. ‘Stay with the 911 operator, please.’
Sasha swallowed hard. ‘What’s going on, Rafe?’
‘Just wait. I need to make another call.’
The woman who’d followed Sasha dropped to her knees on Mercy’s other side, gently lifting the hem of her blouse. ‘It doesn’t look deep. I don’t think it’s bleeding anymore.’
Rafe exhaled, too relieved to speak for a moment. ‘Good. Just . . . I don’t know. Watch her for a minute.’
He dialed Molina’s number and a crisp male voice answered. ‘Special Agent in Charge Molina’s office, this is Jerry Fowler speaking. How can I help you?’
‘This is Detective Sokolov, SacPD. I just saw Ephraim Burton in the airport, aka Harry Franklin. He’s a fugitive, wanted for—’
‘I know the name, Detective,’ the man interrupted. ‘Where are you, exactly?’
‘In Sac airport, at baggage claim. He was trying to abduct Mercy Callahan, who just arrived from New Orleans.’
‘I see,’ the man said. There were clacking keyboard noises on the other end. ‘Have you notified SacPD?’
‘Yes. They’re en route. Miss Callahan was injured, but it doesn’t appear to be life-threatening.’
‘May I speak to her?’
Rafe studied Mercy, who still stared sightlessly. ‘No. She’s conscious, but appears to have disassociated.’
There was a long pause with more keyboard clacking. ‘I see,’ the assistant finally repeated. ‘I’ve notified SAC Molina and our dispatch. Will you be available for interview?’
‘Of course. Whatever you need. But I’ll be at the hospital with Mercy. I’m leaving as soon as SacPD gets here and cordons off the crime scene.’
‘I’ll send whatever agents SAC Molina assigns to the hospital. Do you need me to know anything else?’
Rafe made himself think. ‘I don’t think so.’ But his mind was coming off the adrenaline rush and he began to remember the things he’d forgotten to tell the 911 operator. ‘Oh wait, he didn’t have an eye patch, like in his photo from the locket. He had a glass eye. It reflected the light. But his face had tan lines. The area around his eye was lighter, like he still wears the patch sometimes. He also has a little gray at the temples.’
‘Noted. Thank you, Detective. Can we reach you at this number?’
‘No, this is my sister’s phone. My phone’s still tied up with 911 dispatch.’ He gave Molina’s assistant his cell phone number.
‘Thank you. We’ll be in touch very soon.’
The call ended and Rafe handed Sasha her phone before holstering his weapon and turning to the woman still kneeling at Mercy’s side. She was sheltering Mercy from the barrage of clicking camera phones, and for that Rafe was grateful. Mercy had just been assaulted. She’d hate having her privacy violated as well.
‘I’m Rafe Sokolov,’ he said.
‘Farrah Romero. I’m Mercy’s friend from New Orleans.’ Quiet tears were running down her face, and the woman’s Southern drawl was currently thin with fear and panic. ‘What happened?’
Sasha had crouched in front of him, sheltering him from the camera phones as well. ‘Why isn’t she responding?’
‘I don’t know.’ He gently pushed Mercy’s hair away from her face and cupped her cheek. ‘Mercy, honey, you’re safe. It’s okay.’
‘What happened?’ Farrah asked again, more forcefully this time.
‘She was coming out of the ladies’ room and . . .’ Rafe hesitated, not knowing how much Mercy had told her friend. He opted for discretion. ‘Someone from her past was there. He tried to drag her away. He had a knife, but it looks like we were lucky and she’s not hurt badly.’
Farrah met his eyes and somehow he knew that she knew about Eden. About Burton.
‘You told the FBI that he had a glass eye,’ Farrah whispered. ‘He didn’t when Mercy knew him. You’re sure it was Burton?’
He nodded. ‘Absolutely positive. Sasha, can you get my wheelchair?’
‘Of course.’ Sasha stood, then laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Are you all right, Rafe?’