Deadly Shadows (23 page)

Aiden sat in the waiting room of the Gunnison County Hospital’s ER. He’d alternated between pacing, standing and sitting. It had taken too damn long to get here. Why in the hell hadn’t they flight lifted Jesslyn?

He checked the circular black and white clock hanging on the pale green wall. After midnight. Over an hour, and no one had told them a damn thing. Tim and T.J. sat in the corner on worn frayed chairs. His parents weren’t here, but he knew they were around somewhere. His mother, using her career as a prominent surgeon in one of the nation’s leading hospitals, finally found out that they were trying to stabilize Jessie.

Stabilize? Aiden leaned his head back against the wall. A dark-headed woman across the way moaned between sobs and incoherent Spanish babbling. She rocked in her chair and held a beaded rosary between her fingers. He stared at her, wondered what she was doing here, who she was praying for. Her crying and rambles grated on his nerves, but considering his own state he couldn’t blame the woman for her obvious worry, hope and concern.

Garrison would occasionally stick his head in, then just as quickly leave. Garrison … He knew the town, the people. Doubt crept in where the Chief of Police was concerned. Aiden closed his eyes. Doubt.

Where the hell had Tim been before? Something about dogs? No, not Tim. Then there was Kirk. Or just some village citizen who simply got off on killing women.

Damn it.

He had to see Jesslyn. What was going on?

The creak of the chair beside him opened his eyes. His mother stared at him and Aiden’s stomach dropped. He couldn’t move, only stared back, willing her not to shatter his world.

“They’ve managed to stabilize her.” She put his hand on Aiden’s arm. “Her unconsciousness was not so much from hypothermia as from her head wound. They performed both a CAT scan and a MRI to determine the damage. We’re waiting on the results. I told Dr.

Williams to let me tell you. I didn’t think you’d yell at me, but would listen.” His mother gave a small grin, but Aiden didn’t return it.

“Is she going to be okay?” That was all he wanted to know, all he cared about.

She sighed. “I don’t know, Aiden. Jesslyn still hasn’t regained consciousness and they’re worried about that. Dr. Williams called in a neurologist from Montrose, or Mongose or something like that.”

“Montrose,” Aiden told her.

He needed to make a phone call. A very important phone call. Standing, he patted her shoulder, walked past everyone and out into the cold, night air. Around the side of the building, he paced down the sidewalk, debating. Ah, hell. Quickly, he punched the numbers he’d memorized from the last ambiguous postcard he’d received in the mail weeks ago.
Please, God.

Let this one be the right number. Don’t let Ian have changed it
. After the first ring was answered by silence, he gave a sequence of numbers. His voice was followed by a series of

133

different decibels of beeps and whines. Finally, a computerized voice came on and he only said,

“A.I.” No names that was the rule. That and no one else in the family could know that he ever had contact of any kind with the black, disowned sheep of the family.

His thumb pressed END. Now what? Hopefully, it wouldn’t be long. Aiden didn’t want to be gone long. Hurry, up. Hurry, up.

His phone rang.

“Hello.”

“What’s going on? Is it the same as before?”

Aiden sighed. Ian’s voice soothed like nothing else had thus far. A quick glance around showed him he was alone. The last time he’d made a call had been almost a year ago when their father had a heart attack.

“No. I just need your help.”

A throaty chuckle answered him. “Well, that’s good news. I was hoping it wasn’t anything important.”

His brother had a dry sense of humor. “I don’t have time for this. I need to get back inside.”“Tell me,” Ian said in his deep gravelly voice.

And Aiden did. Everything in a quick, condensed version.

“Well, this is interesting. Hell, I’m sorry. What do you want me to do?”

Aiden shook his head. Another ambulance, its siren blaring, turned the corner and pulled into the entryway of the ER.

“I don’t know.” A visage of Jessie’s face flashed in his mind, bloody and deathly pale. “I want this bastard found.” He bit out.

“And when he is?” Ian asked.

Truth or lies? Truth. “I want to kill him with my bare hands. Slowly.”

“Well, if he’s found, that can be arranged.” His brother cleared his throat. “Give me twenty-four hours to find something out. I’ll call you tomorrow at this time.”

“That’s fine.” Aiden somehow knew that Ian could find out things no one else could.

Probably in unorthodox ways. Aiden didn’t give a damn.

“Where are you again?” Ian’s question pulled Aiden’s thoughts back to the conversation.

“Colorado.” He filled him in on the particular location.

“Hmm … They have a state level sort of FBI. Actually, it comes up that a certain Chief of Police has already requested their assistance in this case.”

That was a surprise. And how had Ian found that out this damn quick?

“Dare I inquire how you know that?”

Another gravelly chuckle was his answer. “I have all sorts of toys.”

“I’ll just bet you do. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Tomorrow.”

“I owe you,” Aiden told his brother over the phone.

“Well, perhaps one day you can repay. For your sake, we’ll hope not.” The smile in Ian’s voice almost had Aiden returning it, but he couldn’t.

The line went dead.

The sky overhead was still inky black with no sign of clearing off. A light mist started to fall again. On a curse, Aiden hurried back into the hospital. The doors whooshed closed behind

134

him. His strides paced him down the line of chairs and back up. Finally, he sat down in the chair he’d vacated earlier.

He wearily ran his hands over his face and leaned forward. Elbows dug sharply into his knees as he rested his forehead head on his clasped hands.

Thank God, he’d gotten hold of Ian.

The speckled beige linoleum glared back at him. The Hispanic woman started in on another
Hail Mary
. At least, he thought that’s what it was.

“Aiden?” He lifted his head as his mother crouched before him, lacing her fingers to cup his knee.“Mom, you and Dad should really head back, get some rest.” It was almost one in the morning for God’s sake.

She merely quirked a brow at him. “That, dear, is a stupid thing to say.” Her gentle reprimand pulled a small smile from him. “I wanted you to know, the boys will be here in the morning, early, probably.”

“The boys?”

“Your brothers. Your father called them during the search and told them to get their asses here, that you needed them.”

He moved his hands to cover hers and sighed. “I wish he hadn’t done that.”

“Why? Kinncaids stick together, or have you forgotten?” His mother’s eyes studied him, and she rubbed the back of his hand absently.

Aiden shook his head. “No, I haven’t forgotten. How are they getting here so fast?”

She smiled. “Your father sent Rodger home with the jet this morning when we got here.

Bray wanted to fly up to Maine or something.” Her hand waved absently. “They were coming anyway in two days, they’ll just be coming a little early.”

“What do you mean Jessie hasn’t woke up yet?” The deep resonating voice brought Aiden’s head around, and he saw his father, his arms crossed over his massive chest, talking with Tim. His mother said, “Do you honestly think he’s going to go home? He’s worried about you, about Jesslyn. For all his bluster, I think he actually likes her. I told him he needed to rest. With all the excitement today, it would be good for him to lie down.”

Aiden smiled at the thought of that. “I see he listened.”

His mother’s dimple peeked out. “You know your father.” Her voice lowered, her smile eased away. “He said he wasn’t there for you when you needed him before, and he was damn well going to be here for you now. Please don’t be too hard on him, Aiden, he’s being hard enough on himself.”

“For what?” Aiden asked.

“For not supporting you completely when you called off the wedding to Brice, for taking her word over that of his own son, explanation or no. His words not mine, by the way.”

“And he wonders why he has high blood pressure? The man worries too damn much.” A huge breath puffed out.

For a moment, neither spoke. His mother cleared her throat.

“Things have been hectic and we haven’t really talked. Honey, do you know what happened? Do you want to talk about it?” she asked. “I know you found her and she’s in serious condition. I know too from what the doctor has told me that someone inflicted her head wound with a long, dull instrument.”

135

Aiden’s stomach rolled at her words. His father walked towards them, and the chair squeaked when his father lowered his considerable build into it.

For a moment Aiden couldn’t speak. In his mind he saw Jessie curled up, her lips blue, the blood staining her face and neck. His eyes never left his mother’s. A muscle bunched in his jaw.

“She was so cold, Mom. So cold, I thought she was dead when I touched her and everything in me just stopped.” He didn’t see his mother, only saw Jessie, hurt and alone. He told her how he’d found Jessie, and where, amazed still he hadn’t stepped on her. “He cut….”

Aiden stopped, cleared his throat and shook his head. “He--the son of a bitch cut her across her throat, not deep, but it’s there.” Rage conquered the fear. “The bastard hit her with something, the whole side of her face was bloody.” Aiden bit down.

“This I’ll defend,” he murmured. “Great damn job I did. They haven’t even let me see her since they loaded her into the ambulance.”

He needed to pace, but without toppling his mother over, he didn’t know how to extricate himself. Aiden wanted to see Jesslyn and he wanted to see her now.

His father cleared his throat, coughed and cleared it again. Aiden felt his father’s hand on his arm. He looked at him, saw the weariness in his father’s eyes, the lines more haggard than he remembered. Jock’s flaming blue eyes bore into him.

“Son, this is not your fault. I don’t want to hear something that stupid again. I raised an intelligent man. One more intelligent than myself, it seems. Now quit beating yourself up and concentrate on Jesslyn.”

Aiden really hated when his father used that don’t-give-me-that tone of voice, usually because it was honest and made sense. Concentrate on Jessie? What the hell had he been doing?

Instead of the terse remark that immediately came to mind, Aiden found himself saying,

“I can’t lose her, Dad.” Aiden shook his head. “I just can’t lose her.”

A squeeze of hand from his mother and a slap on the shoulder from his father. The entire evening seemed surreal.

“Mr. Kinncaid?”

“Yes?” came two male replies.

A short, balding man in blue scrubs gave a tired smile. “Travel in pairs, huh? Usually do in this place. I’m Dr. Williams.”

Aiden, along with everyone else stood. He stared at the doctor, waited to see what he was going to tell them.

“Why don’t we all sit down?” The doctor gestured to the chairs.

“Why don’t you just spit it out?” Aiden said. He’d had enough. “I want to see Jesslyn.

Now.” The doctor merely raised a brow at him. “I understand your anxiety, Mr. Kinncaid. Let me say that Jesslyn is stable, all her readouts are well. We were initially concerned with her EKG.” He waved a hand absently and clarified, “Her heart beat. Ms. Black’s body core temperature was low enough that we were worried about several things. However, the transport went well, no real jostling before the blood started flowing good again. Actually, her body core temp, though low, wasn’t as bad as we thought. Once on heated, moist oxygen--which, by the way, she’s still on--her temp rose and some of the worries decreased. We’re also giving her warm IV fluids. Her temperature is almost back to normal. So, as far as the hypothermia goes, we’re pretty much out of the woods on that one.” The diminutive man rubbed the back of his

136

head. “When can I talk to her, Doctor?” Aiden glanced to see who’d asked the question, Chief Garrison.

“You won’t be, Chief.” The doctor’s tone brooked no argument. “Right now our biggest concern is the head wound. Ms. Black suffered from a concussion, slight swelling and a little hemorrhaging. The bleeding stopped a while ago, the swelling is going down. However, all that said, she still hasn’t woken up. The longer she’s unconscious, the more likely….” He trailed off, frowned as three high notes whistled from the beeper clipped to his drawstring pants. Looking down, he punched a button.

“The more likely what?” Aiden bit out, almost at the end of his patience.

“Oh, sorry. Well, in cases like this there is often memory loss either of the accident itself or of events prior to. Between the head wound, shock, and hypothermia, I wouldn’t be surprised if when Ms. Black wakes up, she’s fuzzy or blank about certain things.”