Blindside (7 page)

Savich said, “You're Keely?” One of his arms was dangling over the side of the sofa, and his feet hung off the other end.

The little girl gently smoothed her fingertips over his face. “I'm Keely and my mama will take care of you. She
takes care of everybody. Do you know they pay her to do that?”

Savich didn't want to laugh, but it came out of him anyway. It died in a gasp. His back was on fire.

“I'm glad they pay her, Keely. How bad is it, Sheriff?”

It was Miles who said, “You've got a long horizontal gash, middle of your back, just above your waist, probably from a piece of flying metal. It doesn't look too deep, Savich, but it's nasty. You just hang on. Here's the sheriff.”

“We need to apply some pressure, Agent Savich—”

“Just Savich. Or Dillon, that's what my wife calls me.”

“Okay, Dillon, I'll be right back. I'm going to have to put some pressure on this wound and it's going to hurt, I'm sorry.”

Savich closed his eyes and willed himself far away, back with Sherlock and Sean, his own little boy.

“Miles?”

“Yes, I'm right here, Savich.”

“You sure Sam's okay?”

“I'm here, Uncle Dillon,” Sam said, and patted Savich's shoulder. “Keely and I are both fine. Did you see the sheriff shoot Beau? Whap! She got him right in the neck, then shot him again when he turned that gun on Papa.”

So much for protecting the children, Katie thought as she came back into the living room with a thick towel. She leaned down and pressed the towel hard against the wound.

Savich didn't know where the moan came from, didn't know he had it in him. The woman was very strong.

“Tell me what happened, Sheriff,” Savich said.

Keely, her fingers still touching his cheek, said, “I heard that bad man talking to Mama in the living room, and I knew he wanted Sam.”

Katie said, “And so you made a lump in your bed with a pillow, and went to wake up Sam.”

The little girl nodded. She stuck her hand out to Sam, who took it. “He shoved up the window in my room and we
climbed out on my oak tree.” She frowned. “Sam wanted to help you but I told him that you're really tough, Mama, and that you would fix Beau's hash. Is that Beau out there?”

“That's his sorry self, yes,” Katie said. “Now, Dillon, how are you doing?”

“Okay,” he said, and she heard the pain in his voice.

“You don't seem to be bleeding through the pressure. The paramedics should be here any minute. You're going to be okay.”

“Make sure you keep the kids with you.”

“You can count on that,” Miles said, and he knew that all the adults wondered what could possibly motivate those two to come after Sam again. Money, there had to be lots of money in it for them.

Katie looked from Keely to Sam. “Now we've got two heroes. Well done, kids.”

They heard the sirens in the distance.

Katie lightly patted his shoulder. “Just another minute. I guess Clancy is dead. I can't get near the van, the flames are just too hot and the smoke's too thick.”

“He couldn't have survived that blast,” Savich said. “Don't worry about it.”

She heard men's voices outside, one she recognized. “It's Wade, one of my deputies.”

“Ho! What the hell happened here? You got a dead guy out here drinkin' rain.”

Katie walked to the front door. “Bring everyone inside, Wade. The paramedics will be here momentarily. Agent Savich's back was cut by a piece of metal.”

M
ackey
and Bueller helped Savich to the ambulance—it felt like a five-mile hike to Savich, who didn't think he'd ever want to walk straight again—then eased him down on his stomach onto the gurney.

“It'll be all right, Special Agent, sir,” said Mackey, so impressed with having a federal officer as his patient that he nearly stuttered. “Sheriff, are you coming with us?”

“Oh, yes. Give me a minute, Mackey.” She turned to Miles Kettering who was holding Keely in one arm and Sam in the other. “Could you bring the children to the hospital, Mr. Kettering? Oh goodness, they're all wet. Could you change them into dry clothes? As you can see, Sam's wearing my sweats. You'll find another pair in my bedroom, folded in the second drawer of the dresser. They're drawstring, so you can pull them tight enough for Sam. All of Keely's clothes are in her dresser.”

“Don't worry, Sheriff, I'll see to both of them. Just go with Savich. And thank you.”

She kissed her daughter's cheek, wishing she hadn't witnessed all the violence, and knowing she'd have to deal
with it sooner rather than later. As for Sam, at least he was with his father now.

As she walked quickly back to the ambulance, Katie said to Wade, “Glen Hodges, FBI Special Agent in Charge from Knoxville, will be here very soon with a couple of agents. Just secure the scene and if any idiots chance to come out here to stop and gawk, threaten to toss them in jail. Oh yes, Wade, do give the FBI all your cooperation. It's their case since it's a kidnapping, and it happened in Virginia.”

“No problem, Sheriff,” Wade said, and walked over to where Beau still lay on his back, rain splashing off his face.

“He won't be causing any more trouble. As for that van, we can't get close yet, it's still burning too hot.”

“The guy inside was Clancy,” Katie said. “Call the fire department, have Chief Hayes come out here and clean up the mess.”

Keely called out, “Mama, you take care of Uncle Dillon.”

“What?”

“That's Agent Savich,” Miles said.

“I will, Keely, don't worry.” So many new people in her life in a very short time, and one of them hurt because of her. She jumped into the back of the ambulance, closed the doors, and settled herself in. “I'm set. Let's go, guys.”

Mackey had Savich propped up on his side and Bueller had unbuttoned his shirt and scissored his undershirt open down the front so he could attach the EKG monitors. He said to Savich, “We'll let the doctor take care of getting the clothes off that wound. Just a moment more, Agent, sir, and you'll be better. It's important to keep you still now.”

Savich grunted.

When they at last settled him on his stomach, Mackey slipped oxygen clips into his nostrils. “That should feel a bit better.”

It did, thank the good Lord.

“Just a little nip here in the arm, Agent,” Mackey said. “I'm going to start an IV.”

Mackey got it on the first try, for which Savich was grateful.

“Now, Agent, sir, we're going to apply a little more pressure to the wound,” Mackey said. “You just try breathing as normally as you can and hold still.”

When Savich had the pain controlled, he opened his eyes to see the sheriff on her knees beside him, holding his hand, which was hanging off the side of the gurney. Katie saw his control. He was a strong man, not just physically. She said, “Thank you for saving my life, Agent Savich.”

“It's Dillon. You're welcome. You didn't have to come in the ambulance. There's lots to do back at your house.”

“Oh, yes I did.” She smiled at him and kept stroking his hand. She said after a moment, “I should have realized that where there's smoke—”

“Gasoline was leaking out, and the heat was building up fast. I just didn't know how long it would be before it blew. A little more time would have been nice, though.”

“I wonder if that could happen with my big Vortec V8 engine.”

Savich couldn't help himself, he smiled through the god-awful pain. If she'd come along to distract him she was doing a good job. “Yeah, it could even happen with that engine.”

Katie said, seeing that reaction, “She's got three hundred horses at forty-four hundred rpm. Isn't that something?”

“She?”

“My truck. I know she's female. She just doesn't have a name.”

“Three hundred horses, yeah, that's something, all right.”

His eyes closed a moment; it was time for her to move
on, time to get serious here. She said, “My mom told me once that learning lessons always hurt, only this time you took the hit for me. I owe you, Dillon. You saved my life.”

“Everything's looking good, Agent, sir,” Mackey said. “Your EKG's A-okay, and the bleeding's nearly stopped. I'm sorry we can't give you anything for the pain. You hanging in there?”

“I'm hanging in,” Savich said. “Katie, would you please call my wife in Washington, D.C.? She's not much into truck engines, though, so you might not want to go there.”

Katie pulled out her cell phone from the T-shirt pocket beneath her wet sweatshirt. “I could teach her.”

He smiled. That was good.

“Okay, give me the number.”

Savich closed his eyes as he gave her the phone number, to keep the moan in his throat.

“What's her name?”

“Sherlock.”

Katie guessed he wasn't kidding about her name. One ring, two, then “Hello? Dillon, is that you? What's going on? Are you all right? What about Sam—”

“I'm calling for your husband, Mrs. Savich,” Katie said, and automatically lowered her voice to make it soothing and calm. “I'm Sheriff K. C. Benedict calling from Jessborough, in eastern Tennessee. Your husband asked me to call you, ma'am. Let me assure you that he's all right, Mrs. Savich. He—”

“Put Dillon on, please, Sheriff.”

Katie held the phone to his ear.

Savich drew a deep breath, hoping he was wiping all the damnable pain out of his voice. Sherlock could hear the smallest sound; she could even hear Sean's breathing change before he hollered. “Sherlock? It's me. No, no, I'm okay, just a little problem. Yes, we got Sam back. He's fine.
So is Miles. What little problem? Well, you see this van blew up and I was a bit too close to it. I got hit in the back by some flying metal.”

He closed his eyes, feeling the pain trying to draw him in. He really wanted to give in to it, but he wasn't about to scare Sherlock out of her wits.

Katie simply took the cell and said, “Mrs. Savich, he's going to be okay. We're on our way to Johnson City Medical Center. Your husband will be all right. I'm not lying to you. I will stay with him. Don't worry.”

Savich managed to say “Tell her not to come here” before his brain swam away.

He heard the sheriff talking, but he didn't know if she was still speaking to Sherlock. He knew Sherlock was scared. If he'd gotten a call like this about her he would freak himself. He saw the sheriff lift her wet sweatshirt and slip the small bright blue cell phone back into the T-shirt pocket.

He couldn't seem to stop looking at that cell phone even after she'd pulled the sweatshirt back down over it. Blue, it was a bright blue, ridiculous, really, but on the other hand, she'd never lose it. Blue for cops. He liked that. He closed his eyes, wanting very much to control the blasted pain. He could picture the sharp slice in his back, not an appetizing image. He really wished Sherlock were here even though he'd asked her not to come. Of course she'd be here as soon as humanly possible.

He was vaguely aware that Katie was speaking in a slow deep voice. “—my truck also has stainless-steel exhaust manifolds.”

Manifolds?

“And a high-capacity crankshaft that's internally balanced. That reduces stress on the crankshaft, don't you know. Did I tell you it was raining so hard this afternoon that I could barely see ten feet in front of me, even though
I have the remarkable high-speed and twice-as-thick grade F windshield wipers on my truck?”

He wanted to laugh and she saw it.

But Savich didn't hear any more after that, just sounds that were soothing, as she was used to speaking to someone who was hurt or not quite with it. Like him.

He didn't rouse his brain until they were in the hospital emergency room and a nurse came forward and directed the four men to lift him from the gurney onto one of the narrow beds.

He heard the nurse speaking to the paramedics, heard Bueller give her a report on what had happened, heard the nurse greet the sheriff. She checked his IV and began cutting off his clothes. “Goodness, you're dirty, Agent Savich. Not to worry, we'll clean you up. You just keep holding on to his hand, Sheriff.”

“It's too bad,” he said. “Sherlock just got me these slacks.”

“They're sexy,” the nurse said, “but they've got to go, Agent Savich. Just stay still, Dr. Able will be here in a second to examine you.”

He heard Katie's voice and focused on it as the nurse checked his blood pressure, took off the old EKG patches, and put on her own.

Katie said, “My truck has two cup holders in her center console, great for the kids.”

“My car doesn't have even one cup holder,” Savich said. He felt cold wet cloths cleaning the mud from his legs. He wasn't cold even though he was naked, and that was odd. “I'd like to have one,” he said, frowning a bit.

He was almost with her again. She said, “What kind of wheels do you have?”

“A Porsche.”

“I should have known, a hotshot guy like you.”

He wanted to chuckle, but it was beyond him. The nurse
was talking to Katie, giving her his wallet and keys, and pulling a sheet up to his waist.

“Did you see Wade, my chief deputy? I just wish he didn't want my job so badly,” Katie said, and he heard the frown in her voice. “That means I can't trust him one hundred percent, and that's too bad. But I guess you have to take the good with the bad, don't you?”

“Kick Wade's butt out of Tennessee or one day you'll find yourself sabotaged but good.”

“I will surely think about that, Dillon. Thank you.”

“Agent Savich? I'm Dr. Able. Don't move now. I see Linda's got you all cleaned up. You've got no other wounds, just the one across your back. The EKG looks fine. You seem to be pretty stable, and that's good. Now, I'm going to give you some morphine for the pain and examine your back.”

Savich looked at the dark-faced man with tobacco-stained teeth leaning over him and wondered how a doctor could begin to justify smoking to himself. He wanted to tell him smoking was nuts. He wanted to tell him that he didn't want morphine, that he didn't want to lose himself, but maybe it would be good if he checked out for a while. He felt Dr. Able fiddling with the IV line they'd started in the ambulance. Savich hoped he knew what he was doing.

“Let's wait just a moment for the morphine to kick in,” Dr. Able said. “I'm going to draw some blood, see what's going on, okay? Also we need to type and cross you. I'd say that with this wound you might be a quart low.”

Savich wanted to smile because that was funny, but he could only manage a nod. He just couldn't do any more than that. He felt Katie stroking the back of his hand, and he focused on that.

As Dr. Able slipped a needle into his vein to draw blood, he said, “Sheriff, I understand there've been two fatalities?”

“Yes, Clyde. And I was almost the third. The only
reason Agent Savich is hurt is because he saved my life. He tackled and flattened me in the mud when the kidnappers' van exploded. I know I look bad, but it's all on the outside. Don't come near me with any of your needles, my innards are just fine.”

“Thank you, Agent Savich, for saving her neck. We need Katie. Linda said you were a mess, but not any longer. Nasty weather out there.”

Savich didn't answer, didn't ever want to move again. Then the morphine kicked in and it was like someone had pulled the monster's teeth out of his flesh.

“There, we've got the blood.” Savich felt a pat on his arm. “Just lie still, Agent Savich. Here's a pillow against your stomach to keep you up on your side. Another couple minutes, then we'll see what we've got. Katie, how is the little boy?”

“Sam's just fine. He and my daughter are probably out in the waiting room with Sam's father, Miles Kettering. He and Agent Savich flew from Colfax, Virginia, into Ackerman's Air Field. I'll tell you, Clyde, given the winds out there, that's quite an accomplishment.”

Everyone speaks so freely. Will she even tell him we flew in a Cessna?

“An accomplishment or just plain stupid. All right now, Agent Savich, let's see just how bad this is.”

The pain was a low throb, nothing more, thanks to the morphine. Only thing was, his head was emptying out and he couldn't bring himself to care a great deal about anything, himself included.