Secure Decision (Chase Security Series Book 5), page 29
“Oh, God, Mama. She was shot in the gut. It was a mess; there was so much blood. She stopped talking. Her skin was so pale. We dropped her off and drove away. We ditched the car and stole this one.” Tripp was shaking.
“Tripp, change your clothes. We’re bugging out,” Conrad yelled at him. “Crawford, you too. And, Weaver, come with me, let’s burn the car.”
At her son’s shouted orders, she snapped out of her worried trance. There was nothing she could do for Belinda now.
Duncan Mulligan flew out of the OR, running past the surgical waiting room and heading toward the ER.
Kyle ran after him. “Doc, what’s going on? Is it Wes?”
“No, he’s still on the table. They need a trauma surgeon in the ER, gunshot wound.”
Kyle stopped. Placing his hands on his thighs, he caught his breath.
“Kyle?” Christian Paulsen whispered.
“He’s still in surgery,” Kyle said.
“His parents are on their way,” Christian said.
“Good, c’mon, let’s get coffee.”
Duncan Mulligan ran into the trauma room. The smell told him his victim was shot in the abdomen, and her intestines were torn.
The ER attending had her hands buried in her chest. “I cross-clamped her aorta. We’re on the fourth unit of blood.”
Duncan gloved and approached the woman on the bed. “Pack her off. Let’s go.” They popped the wheels and ran the stretcher to the OR.
After the victim was transferred to the OR table, the floating nurse announced, “Time 1735, thirty-year-old female, name Eleanor West, repair abdominal wound from a gunshot.”
“Say that name again,” Duncan said. He walked around and stared at his patient’s face.
“Duncan, you know her?” the circulating nurse asked.
“Um, not sure. Could you dial a number for me?” He gave the number for the clinic.
“Health. Operator Cohen speaking.” Andi’s voice was bright.
“Hey, Andi, it’s Duncan. Is Pete or Sam there?” Duncan asked as he worked. “Hemostat.”
“Both are with a patient. Do you need a health provider? Or Mr. Wentworth and Mr. Clarke are here?” she asked.
“Either will do. Andi, is the patient in Room 2 still there?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. Hold, I’ll connect you with Mr. Wentworth.”
“Allis clamp.” Duncan cut free a large piece of Belinda’s intestine. “Irrigation and suction. Let’s see if we can get a better look.”
“Her blood pressure is in the can. You need to move, Duncan,” the anesthesiologist said.
“I hear you.” Duncan stared into the field. “How long since the aorta was clamped?”
“Going on eleven minutes,” a surgical technician said.
“Get ready to run blood. Releasing the clamp on three, two, one.” Blood spurted like a sprinkler. “Lap pads.”
In the middle of the chaos, Zach’s voice filled the OR. “Wentworth.”
Alarms fired as Duncan tried to stem the bleeding. “Wentworth, I’m in the OR with a gunshot victim named Eleanor West.”
“Confirm, Eleanor West,” Zach’s voice was emotionless.
“Affirmative.” Duncan’s voice grew stressed.
“Authorities will be notified. She is wanted on a Department of Homeland Security warrant,” Zach advised. “The bullet is evidence.”
“More lap pads, hemostat. Come on, honey,” Duncan continued fighting for her.
The group of Chase Executives sat in silence. All dressed professionally, they were garnering the attention of other waiting families. Every time someone stepped into the room, all heads turned to the door. This time, Ian Chase joined the group. The entire group stood to greet the boss.
“I flew down with Montgomery. He’ll run Wes’s care. As soon as Wes is stable, we will deal with the woman pretending to be Eleanor,” he whispered.
The door opened again, and a petite woman dressed in scrubs entered. “I’m looking for Wes Crockett’s family.”
Ian stood. “We all are.”
The neurosurgeon’s eyes opened wide. “Step out with me.” Inside the corridor, she looked up at the group. “Mr. Crockett came in unresponsive and unable to breathe on his own. At this time, he remains so. He suffered a subdural hematoma, a pooling of blood beneath the brain lining. I performed a keyhole occipital craniotomy, removed the clot and relieved the pressure. He’s on a ventilator. When the anesthesia wears off, we will see where he’s at. He also suffered severe bruising to his upper and mid-back, likely from a baseball bat. Considering the severity of the injury, finding him as timely as you did may have saved him debilitation if he survives.”
“If,” Ian said.
“I wish I could offer a better prognosis. One of you can sit with him. A nurse will be out when we get him settled in the ICU.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Saturday, March 31st
Zach watched the monitor while TJ Poole sat at his side. “Look at her. She’s acting like she doesn’t have a care in the world,” TJ said, watching Tara Blanchard working in Eleanor’s room.
“Eleanor is aware someone’s there,” Zach said. TJ crunched his brows. “Look at the monitor. Her heart rate and breathing rate bumped up.” Zach leaned over and raised the volume.
“Elora, you are starting to piss me off. Wake up and talk to me.” Tara filled a basin with cold water. “I’d let you rot, but I need to keep you clean as ordered.”
“Wes…save…puppies…corn…no…no,” Eleanor mumbled. “Wes…run…save…Wes.”
“Mumble, mumble, damn it, Elora, we need to know where you hid the damn chest.” Tara slapped Eleanor’s cheeks.
Eleanor feebly raised her hand to push Tara away. “Wes…no…die…”
“Maybe this will help you,” Tara said as she pulled a vial and syringe from her pocket.
Zach and TJ were on their feet. They tossed open the door, weapons drawn. “It’s over, Tara,” Zach said.
TJ grabbed her wrist, forcing the syringe out of Tara’s hand. “What are you doing? It’s a flush for the IV,” Tara maintained.
Zach picked up the vial from the counter. “When did saline flushes start being called sodium thiopental? TJ, take her to holding.” He moved over to Eleanor. “I need some help in here.”
Eleanor’s head rolled on the pillows. “Wes…save…Wes…” she moaned.
Kip sat across from Tara. Kyle sat beside her and yawned. “I’m getting tired. What about you, bro?” Kyle asked.
“Actually, I’m hungry. What about you, Tara? Tara is your real name. Now Blanchard, that has to belong to the sick piece of shit you married,” Kip said.
A flicker of light moved across her face.
“Yup, you’re going down for attempted murder. And accessory to kidnapping, assault, murder. Am I missing anything?” Kyle asked.
“All the crimes are federal too. She did cross state lines,” Kip said.
Tara squirmed in her seat. “I want a lawyer,” she asked after four hours with Kip and Kyle tag-teaming her.
“Okay, Kip, I’ll call Agent Murrow. He’ll be ecstatic we have a lead in his daughter’s disappearance,” Kyle said.
“No… Wait.” Tara yanked at the cuff holding her to the table. “Please, he’ll hurt me. She said he’s evil.”
“Who, Tara?” Kyle leaned in toward her.
“Theresa Murrow.” Tara dropped her head between her hands.
Troy sat beside Wes in the ICU. “Your mom and dad are coming. They want you to know they love you. I spoke to your grandma too. She says you need to recuperate at the lodge. She’s got to be fun at parties. She wanted to know if you had someone special in your life. When I dodged her, she wanted to know if we were a couple. You do have a cute ass and great hair,” he teased, “but I told her you weren’t my type.
“Ice found the mole. It was the PA, Tara Blanchard. Seems Tara is married to another Drake—Weaver. Matches what Ellie said about integrating into the community. There was nothing in her background that should have been flagged. She was normal until she met Fred Blanchard while working at a community center. And, yes, it’s the same community center Ellie volunteered at. This was a coincidence. Tara and hubby worked there first. Tara applied legitimately. My guess, there were more applicants from the Divine End. DC is rerunning every applicant.
“She confirmed that Theresa Murrow went from victim to willing participant. Theresa married Conrad Drake, whom we know as Dixon Knolls. Theresa stole Ellie’s little ones for her own. The infant girl is still critical with encephalitis. A little boy was admitted last night; we are waiting for the confirmation, but I’m sure he’s Ellie’s. He’s battling. The newborn didn’t make it.” Troy swallowed hard, trying to control his emotions.
“Brandon Finch came back to work. He cares a lot about the program. He said all the patients are making measurable progress. You did it. Um, Gwen and I, we spent the night in the motel before we headed to the hospital and Shepherdstown. I felt at peace lying beside her while she slept. No bad dreams.
“I’m gonna talk to Finch. I decided, when I get to San Diego, and after the colostomy reversal, I’m thinking about trying…well, you know. I do need an XO. Ugh, I already hear your voice in my head.
“I need your help on something else. We talked to the administrator at the senior center where Ellie and Belinda volunteered. I need to replay a few things. I don’t know how the story took on the lie, but Belinda was not the loving sister Ellie made us think she was. I think Belinda is running this ring with her parents.
“Ellie’s still out of it. But when she wakes up, how do I tell her you’re here, and her sister is the cause of her misery?” Troy lowered his head in prayer.
Chapter Forty-Four
Wednesday, April 11th
The sun shone brightly on a perfect spring day. Sitting on the rail of the corral, the smell of sun-warmed earth and manure wafted around her. Eleanor watched the second group of veterans working with the horses. She smiled seeing Troy working with Brandon. Today, Kyle was his companion.
Kyle was splitting his time with Gwen. Everyone on the executive staff wore the weight of Wes’s trauma across their backs. All she was told was he’d been struck in the head and had to have surgery to relieve the bleed. She begged to see him. They wouldn’t let her, for both their security.
She hopped down and walked into the stable. “Hey, boy. Doc Baker said I could go for a slow easy ride.” Her voice cracked. “I miss him too.” She petted the blaze on Alamo’s Pal.
“Hey, lovey, Mr. Stone said he’ll be happy to ride with you,” Luke said.
Eleanor concentrated on the gait of Alamo’s Pal beneath her, the swish of his tail, and the colorful wildflower-speckled pasture. Josh Stone rode beside her, an occasional butterfly circling their heads.
“When did you learn to ride?” she asked him.
“High school. I wanted to impress a girl,” he chuckled.
“That’s sweet.” Her mind drifted to a memory of a soft kiss shared with Wes.
“Never had a boy try to impress you?” he asked, scanning constantly.
“No, I wasn’t that type of girl.” Eleanor shrugged.
“Too smart to be fooled,” Josh stated.
“Quite the contrary.” She squeezed her thighs against Alamo’s Pal’s flanks, asking for him to pick up the pace.
Josh’s skill level was stronger than Eleanor anticipated. She couldn’t outpace him, not that she was sure she wanted to. She needed to outpace her grief. She slowed to a walk and stretched along the horse’s neck. All she could do was sob.
On foot, Josh returned to the barn, holding the reins of his mount and that of Alamo’s Pal. Troy, Kyle and Kip stood waiting. “C’mon, Ellie.” Josh helped her down.
The three executives surrounded her. “Come with us. You need to get some rest.”
Eleanor let them lead her to Wes’s home. Since she was well enough to leave the clinic, Troy insisted she stay in a guest room. She did her best to avoid Wes’s parents. They were warm and caring, but she didn’t have the strength or desire to face another loss. She was already losing Wes. She didn’t want to like them and lose them too.
They walked her to the elevator, but only Troy stepped inside with her. She didn’t notice Troy press three. The doors opened.
“Hey, Curly.”
She turned and stepped into Wes’s suite. She watched as Troy gave Wes a two-finger salute and a wink as the doors closed.
Her chest expanded and shrank in little stalls of air. She opened her mouth to try to breathe, her nose stuffed, and tears poured. Her hand reached for his cheek.
He turned into it and kissed her palm. His other arm wrapped around her, his lips against her head. His legs wobbled, and he held her tighter. “Come, we both need to sit down.” He smiled.
Once on the loveseat, she ran her fingers over the bandage protruding from a thick hat. “I thought I’d lost you. That day…in the cafeteria, I made my decision. I told Starr I wanted to give us a chance. My last chance. And I almost lost you,” she repeated.
He hugged her. “I’m here.” His hand rubbed her back.
She pushed back to look at him. His eyes were still blackened, and it felt as if he lost twenty pounds. “What are the doctors saying?”
“The bleed has subsided. Rest and more rest. Walking to start. The see food and eat diet. And to hug my girl as much as possible.” He pulled her to him again.
“Your girl?” she asked tentatively
“That is, if you want to be.”
Eleanor answered him with a hug, her warm tears shared cheek to cheek. She pulled back. “Are you hungry?”
“Tired.”
“Let me help you get into bed.”
“Only if you rest with me.”
Eleanor turned down the bed, and after taking off Wes’s shoes, she removed her own and slid beside him. “I have you.” She wasn’t sure if she said it to reassure him or herself.
Wes opened his eyes and saw a shadow by the window. “Curly?”
“Hi, did I wake you?” She turned.
The waning afternoon sun highlighted her face. “No. It felt good to sleep in my own bed.”
“I bet it did.” She wrapped her arms around herself.
“What were you looking at?” He watched her carefully.
“The trainers are walking the puppies.” She walked over to him and sat beside him.
“You realize they are about fifteen months old,” he chuckled.
“They’re all fluffy and cute.” She sat beside him.
“Like you.” He pulled her down and nuzzled her hair.
Eleanor sat up. “Are you hungry?”
“I am.” With some exertion, he sat up too.
“You okay?” she worried.
“Yeah. Not dizzy today. Let’s go see what those piglets did to my food stores.”
Downstairs was empty. A note in Kip’s handwriting advised that the group, including Wes’s parents, were eating with the new group of veterans. “Wow, I forgot. The second group started. How are they doing?”
“The program is working. And I heard Jeff Pruet was discharged to a program in his hometown. His treatment team said he’s making huge strides.”
He closed his eyes and opened them. “That is all you.” He rifled through the refrigerator and laughed. A note attached to the vegetable drawer said, Asshat, apologize to Kip and me. Do you think we’d leave Mr. Chef without food? T.
Eleanor looked over at the note and laughed too. “Gwen told me the first two days he didn’t leave your side. Mr. Chase had to order him to get rest.”
“And he listened to Kieran?” Wes pulled out a zucchini and some tomatoes.
“Not Kieran. Ian Chase. Gwen said Ian didn’t leave the hospital until you woke up. Are you able to tell me what happened?” She hugged him.
Wes looked down. “Help me cook, and then we can talk.” His head hurt, not from the healing hole the neurosurgeon drilled, but from the truth he had to make Eleanor confront. He asked his colleagues to keep her in the dark until he grew stronger.
After their dinner, Eleanor carried two mugs of tea into the living room area of Wes’s suite. He leaned over and started a fire. His head felt like it was filled with cement, and his legs tremored beneath him.
The doctors promised he would grow stronger with time, but they were stunned his memory was intact. How could he forget that the last thing he remembered was firing a shot at Belinda West?
Wes waited for Eleanor to choose her seat. He sat beside her and pulled out his phone. “I’m going to record our conversation.”
“Things must still be foggy, huh?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Curly, you were so sick. First, you almost bled to death. Then you contracted the measles. I never had the chance to tell you I decided to fight for you. And you never told me what you decided.” He grasped her hands.
“The night you collapsed in your room, I thought I’d lost you. Tuck told me about the uterine mass and how you developed it. I can’t imagine how afraid you were to tell anyone. It wouldn’t have changed the way I felt about you.
“Gwen broke down. She was torn about breaking your confidence. She values you as a friend, and she made the difficult decision to help you. You only regained consciousness for a fleeting moment, and then your already weak body was taken over by the measles… We traced them back to the day of your accident. You were right about hearing voices. A child at the accident scene gave you the disease.”
“This was supposed to be about you, what happened to you.” Her voice shook. She stood and walked toward the fireplace.
“It is. The voices you heard at your accident belonged to Dixon Knolls—your brother Conrad. The infant, the one who gave you the measles, was a child from the Divine End. And the woman was Belinda.” His chest tightened.
