Chapter 7

 

Judy and Dr. Jackson left the two of them alone for a few minutes, and Mary continued to hold Owen while the nebulizer did its work, easing his pain and helping him to breathe more naturally. She’d always been a source of comfort for him, but he wasn’t sure she’d ever held him like this. He hadn’t allowed her to, even after she’d saved him a second time. He’d had too many issues to work through at that point, but now he craved her presence. It soothed him as much as anything could, and the irony of the situation was not lost on him. Lena was the only reason he was able to tolerate Mary’s touch for any extended period of time, and the only reason he needed that touch now was because he was in danger of losing Lena.

“The nurse thought I was your son,” Owen rasped, still trembling in her arms.

“You are my son. I don’t care what your birth certificate says,” Mary replied firmly. She leaned down to press her lips to his forehead, ignoring the soot and heavy stench of smoke. “I couldn’t possibly love you any more than I already do, Owen. I should’ve been your mother from the first time I met you.”

He closed his eyes, savoring her words but unable to find the coherency to form a response. His mind was overloaded, and he couldn’t think of anything but Lena. A new pair of doctors appeared at the foot of the bed, and Owen sat up quickly, his eyes wide with fear as he pulled the mask away from his face. He recognized one of them as one of the people who had moved Lena out of the trauma room.

“Is Lena okay? What’s happening? Where is she?” he demanded rapidly, halfway to his feet before Mary put a restraining hand on him.

“You came in with Eleanore Gardner?”

“Yes! I’m Owen Langford, her fiancé.”

To her credit, Mary’s expression did not waver in the slightest at what she knew to be an exaggeration.

“I’m Dr. Thompson, and this is Dr. Sharpe. We have a Nathaniel Gardner as her emergency contact,” he pressed.

“He’s… I think he’s dead,” Owen said hollowly. “He was with her when… when it happened. I pulled her out, but I didn’t see him anywhere. Please, just tell me how she is. Is she alive?”

“Yes,” the doctor reassured him. “But her condition is critical. She was coding when she arrived, but we got her back fairly quickly. She has a fractured clavicle and three fractured ribs that will need to be repaired in the OR. She also has a head laceration, and the CT indicated some swelling in her brain. We need to get that under control first. Everything else is secondary, but before we can operate, we need some more information about what happened. It could affect the surgical plan. The EMT told us it was some sort of explosion?”

Owen nodded weakly, still trying to process the information they’d given him. Coding… Swelling in her brain… Head laceration... Fractures that had to be fixed surgically… Mary nudged him gently, and he blinked spastically as he broke through his distraction.

“Um… I don’t know what caused it. I guess maybe a gas leak or something, but… Yeah, explosion is the best word for it. I was in another room when it happened, but it looked like it came from the room where Lena and her dad were talking.”

“So, she was in the room when it happened?”

“I found her in the doorway with the door laying on top of her. I thought maybe she’d been on her way out of the room. It looked like the door shielded her a little… Just not enough.” Owen shuddered at the memory of his love lying unconscious beneath the burning wooden door. “It was on fire. Is her back okay?”

“Her burns will be debrided and treated properly, but the head injury is the biggest concern, and time is of the essence. You said you pulled her out of the building?”

“Yes. I got her as far away from the fire as I could and checked for a pulse… applied pressure to her head… Oh, God, did I hurt her head worse by doing that?!”

“No,” the doctor held up a hand to calm him. “You did the right thing. Head wounds tend to bleed a lot, but she didn’t lose as much blood as she could have. Thank you for the information, Mr. Langford. Miss Gardner is being prepped for surgery now, and we’ll get you an update as soon as possible.”

“Page me if you can’t find us,” Mary directed them. “If I’m not with him, my husband will be. He’s on his way.” Both surgeons nodded in acknowledgment and left. Owen watched them disappear with a fresh surge of anxiety.

“I want to see her before she goes into surgery,” he pled brokenly, wincing at the rawness in his throat.

“There isn’t time, dear. I’m sorry. They have to get in there right now so they can relieve her intracranial pressure. If they move quickly enough, Lena has a good chance of full recovery. We have to let them do their jobs, alright?”

Owen’s pulse jumped on the monitor as the severity of the situation hit him full force. It had been terrifying not to know, but having the information about her condition had done nothing to ease his mind. She could die… He wanted to scream, cry, and hit something all at the same time.

Through the haze of renewed panic and despair, he saw more people step into the limited space around his triage bed. When he looked up, he was only mildly surprised to see Sean Langford and Seth Wyatt standing with a pair of uniformed police officers. What did surprise him was the speed with which Sean’s arms were around his shoulders. He was hugging him the way a terrified father would hug a son he’d nearly lost.

“Thank God you’re alright,” Sean breathed.

“Sir, I apologize for the delay in getting to you,” Wyatt greeted Owen with a nod. He shrugged dazedly, not having noticed Wyatt’s absence. Until he saw Lena again, there was very little that could penetrate his anxiety. “The police need to speak to you, but I wanted to give you an update on the situation as well.”

“Me?”

“Yes…” Wyatt shifted nervously. “With Mr. Gardner… missing... and with Ms. Gardner incapacitated, the next in the chain of command would be Mr. Phelps. However, being aware of Lena’s disposition toward him, I thought it best to make sure you’re kept in the loop as well.”

Owen’s frazzled brain struggled to sort through the information, finding only the ability to nod in acknowledgment before his eyes moved to the police officers.

“And you are…?”

“Officers Parks and Lechner, Mr. Langford,” the man nearest to him replied. “Am I to understand that you were present when the incident occurred?”

Owen nodded, feeling overwhelmed and exhausted. The breathing treatment had eased his coughing fits, and the fluids and anti-inflammatories were helping his throat somewhat. His adrenaline levels had begun to decrease as well, and if it weren’t for his sheer terror at the thought of losing Lena and his determination to be at her bedside when she came out of surgery, he might have given into the urge to close his eyes. Officer Parks encouraged him to relay the story yet again, so Owen painstakingly went over the details of the explosion and the ensuing fire and rescue, ending with their arrival at the hospital.

“We’ve already spoken with Mr. Jeffrey Phelps as well as the others who were at the scene. Everyone’s stories corroborate, and once the fire department has given the all clear, forensic teams will begin processing the scene. Someone will contact you once we have more information on that front, and one of the techs should be in shortly to collect your clothing and other samples from your skin and hair. So, we ask that you wait a little longer to clean yourself up, Mr. Langford.”

Owen said nothing.

“Forensics?” Sean spoke up. “You suspect foul play?”

“Too soon to tell, Mr…?”

“Langford. Sean Langford. I’m Owen’s father.”

Mary looked up at her husband, smiling softly. They exchanged a significant glance before turning to look at Owen, who seemed to be too distracted and agitated to do more than nod and listen to the conversation around him. Every so often, his eyes would dart to the hallway Lena’s surgeons had disappeared into, silently begging one of them to return with an update.

“Right. Well, at this point, the investigation has only just begun. The fire and police departments are working together to ascertain the nature of the explosion. The FBI may be stepping in to lend a hand as well. I’m afraid I can’t share more than that with you at this time.”

“I understand. And the press camped outside?”

“Nothing has been released publicly yet,” Officer Lechner shook his head. “They’ve figured out whose house blew up, but beyond that, everything they’re saying is merely speculation.”

“And Mr. Gardner…?” Mary asked cautiously. The officers looked reluctant to divulge the information, so she added, “When his daughter wakes up after surgery, she’ll be asking for him. What can we tell her?”

“At this time, we suspect he was killed in the blast, ma’am. We were unable to locate a body once the flames were extinguished, but it’s possible the forensic team will find his remains.”

Mary winced sympathetically for Lena and gently rubbed Owen’s back, pleased when he didn’t flinch away from her. He was staring fixedly at the hallway, just as he’d stared at Lena’s trauma room, anxious for a sign that his love was still alive, still fighting.

Not long after the police officers took their leave, Judy returned to check on Owen. He answered her questions brusquely, only making eye contact with her when she inquired politely after his fiancée.

“She’s in surgery. Can you find out what’s happening? It feels like it’s been hours, but no one has come out to tell me anything.”

“It’s been about forty-five minutes,” Mary clarified. “Why don’t I go see what I can find out, alright?”

“Yes, please,” Owen urged.

“Alright. Now, if I leave, will you promise to behave yourself? You’ll listen to the staff and stay put?”

“Yes, please just hurry.”

Mary nodded and glanced at Wyatt and her husband, and a silent understanding passed between them. They were now on Owen watch.

“So… ‘fiancée?’ When did that happen?” Sean asked hesitantly.

“It hasn’t yet,” Owen admitted under his breath. “Nate gave me his blessing, but I haven’t asked her yet. I just bought the ring…” He squeezed his tired eyes shut for a moment at the thought that she might never get to see it. “I’m all she has left now. They weren’t going to let me ride with her to the hospital, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let her go alone.”

As he said the words, he realized belatedly that there was one other person Lena considered family. Unfortunately, he’d lost his phone at some point, and he had no idea where Lena’s was either. Owen got Wyatt’s attention.

“Do you have Logan’s number?” Wyatt nodded and pulled it up on his phone before handing it to Owen, whose finger hovered reluctantly over the green call button.

“Hello,” Logan’s voice answered, sounding cautious.

“It’s Owen. I need you to get yourself to Northwest Hospital right now. Come to the ER.”

“What the hell’s going on, man?! There’s shit all over the news about Phelps’ house catching fire. I’ve been trying to call you guys nonstop! What happened? Is everyone okay?”

“No,” Owen whispered hoarsely before succumbing to a fit of coughs that sounded only slightly better than his previous ones.

Sean took the phone from his hand and introduced himself to Logan, giving him instructions on where to find them once he arrived. He told Logan what he knew about Lena’s condition, which wasn’t much, and avoided answering his questions about Nate. Sean handed the phone back to Wyatt once he’d ended the call.

“He said he’s on his way. That was Lena’s friend who was in the Army?” he asked Owen, who merely nodded in response. Sean eyed him thoughtfully, assessing everything from the nervous fidgeting of his hands to the tormented expression on his face as he watched for Mary’s return.

He’d known Owen for fifteen years, first as a malnourished and neglected preschooler, then as an abused boy who had suffered in silence, and finally as a young man whose maturity rivaled that of many adults. In all of those years, Sean couldn’t think of one instance that Owen had actually looked and acted his age. It was often easy to forget that he was only nineteen. He’d always been stoic, composed, and guarded, even after the truth of Vera’s abuse had come out.

Until now. After overcoming so much in his young life, Owen had finally reached his breaking point. Gone was the air of responsible, poised maturity; now fear and anxiety radiated from every inch of his body.

Losing Lena Gardner was something he would never survive. It would destroy him.

 

 

Wyatt looked up from his cell phone some twenty minutes later, recognizing the agitated voice of Logan James drifting in from the ER waiting area. They had moved Owen out of triage and into a temporary room, but Logan’s voice was loud enough to carry even through the glass walls. Wyatt finished his text to Cook, who was on his way to the hospital as well, and excused himself briefly. The nurse Logan was arguing with was insisting that anyone not related to a patient needed to stay in the waiting room. Valerie stood at his side, wincing at her boyfriend’s hostile tone. Wyatt interrupted as politely as possible and assured the nurse that one of the patients was expecting Logan. She did a quick confirmation with Owen, who did little more than nod in assent, before waving Logan and Valerie through.

“Any news on Lena?” Logan asked hopefully, not bothering to greet anyone properly. Owen didn’t respond in any way, still gazing around anxiously for Mary. He had insisted the privacy curtains be left open, and he squirmed impatiently on the bed.

“My wife went to check for an update, and she should be back soon. I’m Sean Langford. It’s nice to meet you.” Sean and Logan shook hands.

“Logan James. And this is my girlfriend, Valerie Bennet. Has there been anything about Nate? Any clue as to how this happened? Anything?” His frustration seeped into his tone again, and Valerie put a calming hand on his back.

“A little,” Sean hedged, gesturing for them to pull up a chair. “The police have been by to talk to Owen, but we’re still waiting on the forensic technicians they’re sending to collect evidence. That’s why he still… looks like that.” Everyone’s gaze flickered to Owen’s filthy clothes and skin.

“Forensics…? Wait, one thing at a time. What about Nate?” Logan watched Sean’s face fall, and his eyes widened in shock. “He’s…”

“The police and fire department believe he was killed in the blast. Last we heard, they were waiting for the fire department to clear the scene so the forensic teams could take over.”

Logan rested his forehead in his hands and took several deep breaths, too stunned to speak.

“Do you know if it’s just the police forensic unit doing the investigating?” Valerie asked quietly.

“They mentioned the FBI, but I don’t know who is supposed to be leading the investigation.”

“You get any calls?” Logan asked her.

“Not yet, but it will have to go through the channels.” At Sean’s confused expression, Valerie added, “I work in the forensic lab at the FBI Seattle field office. I don’t usually visit the scenes firsthand, but I’m sure I’ll be called in to help with the analysis if the Bureau is being asked to assist.”

“What about everyone else? There were others in the house, right?” Logan inquired, glancing between Sean and Owen. He noticed Owen’s odd demeanor, and his frown deepened, realizing that Owen hadn’t said a word since they’d arrived. Wyatt spoke up to answer his questions.

“As far as we know, Mr. Phelps, his staff, and Mr. Gardner’s security are all being treated for smoke inhalation and shock. Mr. Langford’s was the worst case, though, having been exposed for a longer period of time. Everyone else seems to be fine.”

“Why was he exposed for longer?” He felt odd discussing Owen as though he weren’t in the room, but at the moment, from a mental perspective, it seemed he wasn’t.

“He pulled Lena from the fire and got her out of the building.”

All eyes shifted to Owen again, who appeared to be ignoring them completely now. His heart rate had been rising steadily, and although no one in the room had medical training, it was clearly too high to be healthy. Logan sighed in commiseration, acknowledging that his own vitals probably wouldn’t look too good on a monitor either.

“Why are they getting forensics involved so quickly?” Logan wondered aloud.

“I’d venture to say it’s most likely due to Mr. Phelps’ standing in the community. The home of one of Seattle’s elite just blew up. It’s big news, and the I’m sure the police are being pressured to handle it quickly,” Sean replied.

“That’s a good thing. If there was any sort of foul play, the toxicological analysis will point us in the right direction,” Valerie assured them.

“How do you mean?”

“We’ll test everything for chemical residue, and the evidence will help us determine what caused the explosion. There will be chemical traces not only in the house, but also on the bodies and clothing of those who were inside at the time. We’ll be able to tell if it was something as simple as a gas leak or…”

“Or?” Logan prompted.

“Or something else,” Valerie explained reluctantly. “Like a bomb.”

A nervous silence permeated the room. Valerie’s words barely penetrated Owen’s haze of adrenaline and fear, but Logan’s brain shifted gears quickly. He sat up in his chair, drawing on the part of his military training that had taught him the skill of compartmentalization.

Of course, Logan nodded thoughtfully. Someone would’ve smelled gas, right? The cause of the explosion had been a secondary factor compared to his concern for Lena, but he realized now that a bomb would probably make more sense than a gas leak. As he followed the logic of that conclusion, he realized that as things stood right now, Phelps was in charge of coordinating with the authorities. But would the man really have gone so far as to plant a bomb in his own house? It seemed ludicrous, but they already suspected him for the shot that had been fired at Lena. That attempt on her life had failed. Could this have been his contingency?

Holy shit…

Logan looked at Owen, curious as to whether their thoughts were in sync, but to his consternation, he realized that Owen was still trapped in his own misery and anxiety over Lena’s condition. He was watching for Mary the way a toddler might watch for his mother when he expected her to pick him up from daycare. Logan pursed his lips in determination. If Lena was his sister, then Owen was his brother. He pulled his chair across the small room to sit in front of Owen, not quite blocking his view of the hallways and triage area beyond the glass walls.

“Listen, man… You need to snap the fuck out of it.” Logan’s tone held no trace of condemnation, but Owen frowned irritably anyway. His eyes flickered to Logan’s face briefly, but he said nothing. “I can’t even imagine what you’re feeling right now. Because as much as I love Lena, it’s not the same way I love Valerie, and if this had happened to her…” he couldn’t even finish his sentence, shuddering as his eyes met Valerie’s. She reached out to hold his hand in sympathy.

“It’s been hours since the explosion,” Logan continued. “You saved her life, but now you’re falling apart. I get it. I really do… But it’s time to get up off the mat. Lena needs you. She needs all of us. Because right now Phelps is in charge of GC. If it’s even remotely possible that everything we suspect about him is true…”

A slight shift in Owen’s expression made Logan pause, and he nodded in approval as Owen seemed to give himself a mental shake, working to unearth himself from his despair. Although his concern for Lena was still paramount, he forced himself to focus on the bigger picture. There was nothing more he could do to keep her safe at this point; she was in the hands of the doctors now. But there was something else he could do for her. And for Nate, Owen added silently. He had to stop Phelps from ruining Nate’s legacy. With a new determination in his eyes, he finally met Logan’s gaze head on.

“I’m going to need your help.”