Chapter Forty-Four
River lay on a table near the X-ray department in St. Joseph’s Hospital. Turning his head, he looked to where Vicki sat in a chair next him. She held his hand, her fingers firmly entwined with his.
“Hey,” he said, pulling her attention from the doorway.
“Hey.” Her lips curved into a smile—an attempt to reassure him, but worry kept her brow furrowed. She peered at the door again. “I just don’t know what’s taking them so long.”
“X-rays, CAT scans. All that stuff takes time to review. The good news is the medication they gave me is really doing its job.” The gunshot wound in his side had dulled to a minor ache, and that alone was something to be thankful for. “Best I’ve felt in days.”
“Good.” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing an ugly purple bruise on her cheek.
“Did saving Dauscher cause that?” Unable to stop himself, he reached toward her but stopped short.
“No.” A rueful smile graced her lips. “When Kent stepped over the salt line and rushed us, you fell back. I was too close, and your elbow caught me.”
He winced. “God, Vicki. I am so sorry.”
“I’ll live. You’re the one I’m worried about.”
A tall brunette swept through the doorway, her white coat fluttering behind her. Two steps into the room, she paused, her head bowed as she studied the chart in her hands. After a moment, she looked up. “Well, Detective Chastain, I’m happy to say everything appears to be fine. Your wound should heal, but you’ll need to keep an eye on it for infection. We took a full complement of pictures, and even though there’s a huge contusion on your chest, the X-rays show your sternum is still intact. You’ve got one cracked rib, several others are bruised. Your sternum….” A thin, disapproving smile appeared on her lips. “Impacts of the sort you received can cause damage to the heart and lungs, sometimes even the esophagus which can lead to digestive problems. How did you say it happened?”
Though medicated, River had prepared for this question. “There was a struggle. In his attempt to get away, the perp head-butted me.”
She stared at him for a long moment, a single arched brow the only indication of her disbelief. He met her gaze and said nothing. He sure as hell wasn’t about to tell her the truth. She’d have his ass committed. The whole thing sounded insane, and he’d survived every moment of it.
“Well, you’re very lucky.” She glanced down at the chart. “The CAT scan of your heart came back clear as well.”
Air rushed through Vicki’s lips, and her nervous giggle filled the small, sterile room. “That’s good news.”
“Yes.” The doctor held up a finger. “But as I mentioned, an impact like this can cause unforeseen problems. Knowing that, we’d like to keep the detective here overnight for observation.”
“Of course.” Vicki nodded, her expression of relief and hope elevating his optimism.
“So, let’s get you to your room.” The doctor held out her arm to River for support, and she and Vicki helped him from the table into a wheelchair. With him settled, the doctor turned to Vicki. “I don’t suppose you’d like to elaborate on what happened out in the marsh?”
His gaze shot to Vicki. They’d concocted their story on the way to the hospital with Dauscher propped in the backseat of the Malibu next to an unconscious and half-naked Becca. After everything that had transpired in the marsh, would she remember what they’d discussed?
“You saw what we came in here with, Doctor.” Vicki’s eyebrows knitted. “My best friend was kidnapped. Detective Dauscher tried to save her, and a maniac strangled him. We got there just as he was about to kill Becca. River and the kidnapper fought, but the guy got away.” She squeezed his shoulder. “I’m not sure what you want me to say, Doctor. All I know is if River hadn’t risked his life, there’d be more bodies in the morgue instead of hospital beds.”
The doctor nodded and moved to the door. “You can come in now.”
Surprise rolled through River. He clutched the wheelchair’s armrests as the man from The Yellow Rose bar in Texas, the guy he’d believed to be the copycat killer, strode into the room.
Vicki gasped. “Matthew.”
“Good to see you, Victoria.” He smiled, smoothed the front of his boxy hospital uniform. Dressed like that, the guy blended right in with the staff. But River wasn’t fooled. The man was anything but a member of the medical profession, and his commanding demeanor confirmed the fact when he turned his attention to the doctor. “So?”
“Neither of them even hinted at the truth.” She snapped River’s folder closed. “Rebecca Carlson sustained a broken wrist and minor cuts and abrasions. The reporter, Lenny Johnston, has a broken femur, several cracked ribs. He put up a good fight.” Her gaze flitted to Vicki and then River, her face a mix of assessment and unabashed curiosity.
The hairs on River’s neck prickled. Well, hell. Seems more is going on than I realized.
The brunette turned to Matthew, her demeanor shifting back to doctor mode. “Chastain’s partner, Detective Theodore Dauscher, survived the incident, thanks to the two of them. Their combined efforts saved his life. Other than bruising on his neck, he’ll be fine.” She looked at River, her eyes bright with interest. “Rumor has it fire shot from your fingertips into your dead partner.”
He frowned. How the hell could she know that?
“Is it true?” she persisted. “You actually resurrected him?”
He met the doctor’s keen stare but kept his mouth closed. Let her figure it out.
“That’s what I thought.” She chuckled. “He’s all yours, Matthew.”
What the hell is going on?
“Thanks, Jana.” The tall guy moved aside, allowing her to exit the room, then stepped behind River’s wheelchair and pushed him through the doorway. He rolled him down the wide hallway at a leisurely pace, the rubber wheels squeaking against the polished tile floor. Stopping at the elevators, he pushed the Up button.
“What the hell are you doing?” River demanded, keeping his voice low so only the three of them could hear.
The metal doors opened, and Matthew wheeled him inside, Vicki trailing after them.
“Taking you to your room,” the man behind him answered. “Vicki, please push seven.”
She complied, and the doors closed.
“A lot of people have worked very diligently to get you and Victoria to where you are, Detective Chastain,” Matthew stated.
“You mean a lot of people manipulated us.” He tightened his fingers around the armrests. “People died.”
“And others lived. Rebecca, Lenny, your partner. Without the two of you, Kent Rowton would have killed them all.” He released an abrupt sigh. “My time to speak with you is running short, so let me cut to the chase.”
“Please do,” River said through gritted teeth.
“I am here to make you both a very unique offer. I work with people whose sole purpose is to stop psychopathic killers who, once dead, should remain so. Like Kent Rowton. My associates also hunt terrorists who not only infiltrate and overthrow governments by using paranormal warfare but also threaten the very fabric of time. In short, this was a test of sorts—”
“Of sorts?” Vicki’s sharp words cut Matthew off. “We were almost killed. More than once. My best friend was staked to the ground, meant for sacrifice. River’s partner was possessed and forced to endure things no one should ever have to experience.” She stepped toward the taller man, her eyes blazing. “You saved me more than once, Matthew. And for that, I’m thankful. But a freaking test?”
The elevator doors opened. Vicki leaned across River, slammed her hand against the panel, and they closed again. Without hesitation, she jabbed the button for the ground floor.
“We have to be sure before we make an offer,” Matthew answered once they started moving again. “Very few people in the world know about LightFall. Your parents were agents.”
Her entire body jolted at his words. “My parents?”
Matthew’s eyes filled with sympathy. “Yes. The official story is they died in a terrorist attack in Sweden while attending a financial conference. Terrorists were involved, but not in Sweden. The truth is your parents perished in Madrid, Spain, defending the world against terrorists intent on infiltrating the Russian KGB and starting World War III.”
“They fought terrorists?”
The elevator stopped on the ground floor, and the doors parted. The man stepped into the opening and used his body to keep the doors from closing.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” River demanded.
“I have other interests that require attention.” He waved to an attendant near the exit then turned back to them. “I’ve made my offer.”
“I’m on medication at the moment, so I can’t legally commit to anything,” River said, allowing the sarcasm to roll off his tongue. It wasn’t long ago he knew nothing more than being a cop. But here stood a man telling him there was a secret agency dedicated to stopping evil…and worse from the sounds of it. Oh, shit. There are more like Kent running amuck out there? He tried to wrap his spinning mind around the idea.
A rogue grin spread across Matthew’s face. “Think about my offer. Your decision could impact everything.”
The attendant moved behind River’s chair. Matthew stepped back, offering a parting nod as the doors slid shut. Everything the man had told them answered dozens of questions, yet left dozens more grinding in River’s mind. But somehow, after what he and Vicki had experienced, the idea of LightFall made sense. And, in a strange way, gave him back a good portion of his world of concrete and evidence—it just had a new depth of knowledge added. A different way to stop an evil most of the world knew nothing about. He swallowed. Isn’t that why I became a detective in the first place?
Reaching up, he took Vicki’s hand in his. Staring up into her soulful eyes, he had the uncanny sensation he could hear her thoughts….
What the hell?