He wasn’t surprised Scott had left. He’d heard the man make a low strangled sound when he’d lifted the blanket. From the other room, he heard Scott tell Jason he was leaving and to not let Henry out of his sight. Scott said he’d be back sometime in the morning.
He was concerned enough about this man to kidnap me at gunpoint but won’t stick around?
Jason entered the room and dropped the duffel of medical supplies beside Henry. He pointed his flashlight at the patient. It wasn’t enough.
“Can I get another flashlight?” asked Henry. He touched the patient’s forehead. Hot. He checked the man’s pulse. Too fast.
He’s compensating.
The high fever, fast pulse, and rapid breathing meant the man’s body was doing its best to stay alive. Henry preferred to see that than a patient decompensating, which meant everything was spiraling down toward death.
He gently shook the patient’s shoulder and tried to wake him. The man was silent.
Jason went into the other room and immediately returned with a second flashlight. He moved to the other side of the patient on the floor and pointed both beams at the wound. Henry glanced up and saw Jason’s gaze on the silent man’s face. The worry in the lines on his forehead and the tension in his mouth spoke volumes.
“His name is Mark?” asked Henry.
“Yeah.”
“He’s your brother,” said Henry, going with his gut. “You’re all brothers, aren’t you?”
Jason met his gaze. “Yeah.”
“How old is he?”
Jason grimaced. “Twenty-two.”
“Scott’s the oldest?”
He nodded.
“How did he get shot?” Henry put on a pair of gloves and continued his assessment of the young man. The bleeding seemed stable for the moment, so he pulled out what he needed to start an IV.
Jason pressed his lips together, looked away, and said nothing.
“You don’t need to tell me,” said Henry. “I’ll do what I can.” He wrapped a tight tourniquet around the young man’s arm and ripped open a package of IV supplies. “Point the light here,” he told Jason, who moved the beam to the inside of his brother’s elbow. Henry ran a gloved finger over a fat vein and pierced it with the needle. Blood immediately flowed to the chamber. He slid the needle back a bit and moved the cannula into place.
I could do this in my sleep.
He released the tourniquet, flushed the line, and hooked up the bag of normal saline. Henry handed the bag to Jason, who took it reluctantly. “Maybe there’s another nail you can hang it on?” Henry asked him. “It needs to be elevated.” He peered closely at the line in the poor light to check that fluids were still moving, and Jason tentatively hung the bag on a nail.
Henry injected a broad-spectrum antibiotic into the IV fluids.
Now the wound.
He lifted the sleeping bag and towel and kept his expression neutral. It would take a miracle to save the young man. Or at least a hospital. “Flashlight here,” he ordered.
Jason moved the lights to the wound and turned his head away.
Fuck. It’s worse than I thought.
Henry rolled the patient to one side to see the exit wound. The towel under Mark was soaked with blood. Henry eyed the wound for a few seconds and determined that the bleeding had mostly stopped. “Hold him up.” Jason set down the flashlights with the beams aimed at Mark’s back and held him in place. Henry ripped open several packages of clotting gauze, pressed a wad into the wound, and taped it in place.
I can’t fix what’s going on inside.
Mark probably needed surgery to repair his intestines—but Henry suspected it was too late. Essentially, poison had been leaking into his body for two days. No doubt his fever was the result of sepsis.
Henry sat back and wiped his wrist across his forehead.
Not good.
He could suture the wounds closed. But that would be the equivalent of putting a Band-Aid on a broken bone.
“Bring in a couple of those water jugs,” he directed Jason. He handed Henry one of the flashlights and went in the other room.
Henry leaned close to his patient. “Okay, Mark. I’m going to help you in every way I can,” he whispered. “But I need you to help me by staying alive.”
Mark won’t survive for long.
Which meant Henry didn’t have long.
He was positive Scott would kill him if his brother died.
6
Cate rolled over and checked the time. 4:47 a.m.
I’m done trying to sleep.
She lay on her back and stared at the ceiling, feeling the gentle breeze from the overhead fan. It’d been a shitty night. She’d been awake for hours, and when she had finally drifted off, she’d slept fitfully. Henry had raced through her thoughts all night.
Is he safe? Is he alive? Is he dead?
Tears had leaked constantly. Cate and Henry had planned a December wedding. She and her grandmother, Jane, had spent the last few weeks pulling things together. They’d reserved a meeting room at the Harbor View Inn with a view of the bay for the ceremony and reception. Jane would make the cake. A local florist would do the flowers. Cate had gone to Seattle and bought a wedding dress off the rack. She’d hung it in the guest room closet and ordered Henry not to look, even though it was in a bag.
Will I ever wear it?
Nausea gripped her, and she fought down the bile that tried to rise up her throat, remembering how a month ago she’d sat talking with Henry over cocktails—and abruptly it’d hit her how happy and content she felt. How much she’d looked forward to building a life together. How peaceful she’d felt since leaving the FBI. How deeply in love she was with this man who had been placed in her path. They’d talked nonstop about the future.
Two children.
They’d agreed to have kids immediately. Both of them were in their midthirties and saw no point in waiting. Neither felt a need to travel and see the world first. They wanted a swing set in the backyard and toys in every corner of their home.
While working at the FBI, Cate had never envisioned having children. But she’d thought about it more in the last month than she wanted to admit.
Henry will be found today.
He has to be found today.
They had a future to continue building.
Tessa had updated Cate twice during the night. The boat that had rapidly left the marina had been tracked down. Kurt and Bruce had interviewed the owners, who had promptly woken their son. The twenty-something young man had sheepishly admitted he had taken the boat without permission and had been rushing to get it home before his parents returned that evening.
Lead number one eliminated.
Tessa had contacted the owner of the store who sold the T-shirt that the man casing the medical clinic had worn. The shop didn’t have video, and they’d sold at least a dozen of the same shirt in the last few days.
Lead number two eliminated.
Instead of calling Cate last night, Special Agent Isla Ross had sent a text stating she was flying to the island first thing in the morning. Her team would arrive later that day on the first ferry.
I’m not waiting around for Isla to get here.
Cate sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She was determined to not sit on the sidelines during the search for Henry. She didn’t care about bank robberies; she wanted Henry back. Special Agent Ross would have to accept that Cate would be her shadow until Henry was found.