Capturing Kate (22 page)

“Kate!” Sloan’s voice was weaker but emphatic. “Watch for Allison.”

Kate darted her head around just in time to see Allison come around the side of the vehicle. She was still in her khaki pants and white top and that neat bun. Her makeup was intact.

“Oh, Kate,” she said in a mock sympathetic voice. “What a stupid girl you are, fucking the help and getting all distracted by YouTube. No wonder you need a sitter.” She had a gun at her side, but she held it casually, as if it were a dog leash and the dog was meandering around, sniffing. Kate couldn’t take her eyes from the gun. Beside her, Sloan’s breathing became more labored. To her horror, he sounded like the red foam man seconds before death. He coughed, and blood trickled from the side of his mouth—but the gun. The gun.

“Oh, this?” Allison gestured, pointed the gun at Kate, then at Sloan, then back at the ground. “I’m not going to hurt
you
. I need the information from you. Where is it? What did you get?”

“I don’t know.” Kate shifted. Her gun was under the car. She stretched out her hand. “It’s under here. Please, I’ll give it to you, all of it, it’s an envelope. I don’t know what it is, just take it and don’t hurt me or Sloan. Please.”

“You can trust me.” Allison’s voice was soft. “I just want the envelope. We’ll trade. You give me the envelope, I won’t hurt you.”

“Okay. I’m getting it. It’s just a little dusty. Okay. Please don’t shoot me.” Kate eyed Allison, trembling.

“Good girl,” coached Allison, twirling the gun in her fingers. “Reach out slowly.”

Kate took a deep breath, wrapped her fingers around the barrel of the gun. With her index finger, she found the trigger. Beside her, Sloan lay gasping, his face gray, arm twitching sporadically.

“Here it is,” said Kate, her voice soft.

She pulled the gun out and aimed, but Allison was too fast. Pain pierced her stomach and she doubled over. It was fire, pure fire in her belly, a gasoline fire that burned hotter than the sun. The kind of fire that could burn in water. It was death fire. And as Allison came closer, the fear in her body increased along with the pain.

Sloan moved fast; a shot rang out and Allison was on the ground, gasping, moaning. The three of them were a sick orchestra of pain, and Kate figured the sounds would be stuck in her brain as long as she lived, whether that was a minute or a hundred years. But she needed to focus, because Sloan’s eyes were closed and Allison’s were open. Those pale gray eyeballs were focused on the gun, on the dusty road between Kate and Allison.

All Kate knew was that she had to get it first. It was the only thing in the world, more fundamental than oxygen. It was all. And some monumental burst of energy sang through her when she saw Sloan there, knowing he’d taken the previous bullet so she wouldn’t, seeing how gone he was. She dragged herself forward and put her hand on the barrel of the gun, and Allison’s head was right there. She raised her arm and brought the gun down on Allison’s temple like Sloan had told her, over and over, until Allison stopped coming and the gray eyes flickered shut. And then she lay back herself and faded into the fire licking behind her own eyes.

Chapter Seventeen

Her mom was thinner, aged, but the same woman, and Kate hugged hard, unable to let go. Her mom smelled the same as usual, of her basement where she hung clothes to dry, her laundry, and her own body. Kate buried her face in her mom’s shoulder, crying, laughing, reaching up to pull her mom down even though her entire body hurt.

Lila was there, too, later. Kate’s stepdad. Kate didn’t remember the order of things. All the events happened at once, in the same instant. She was the one with an IV in her arm. Her mom was fine. Her mom had never suffered a heart attack, never been in a hospital bed, hooked up to poison. It was all lies. Nobody had known she was missing until they received calls from the hospital. Lila’s hair was still purple. Mac visited, face worried. Sloan was there, too, hovering, a dark presence in a sling, giving orders.

She asked about Ella, but nobody knew anything. Then Sloan told her: Ella had been found dead in her home the day Kate was abducted; the coroner said reported natural causes. Sloan thought Ella had died the day Kate was kidnapped because there were no signs of torture. Kate didn’t know whether to be grateful for that on Ella’s behalf.

Eli was in foster care. He was continuing lead chelation therapy and might be adopted by some distant cousins in Montana. The medical documents that Ella had included? They were ones she’d never shown Kate—a report about intestinal surgery for Eli to remove a batch of lead BB pellets he’d swallowed. It was the lead in the BBs that had caused his seizure, although the lead in the water supply was still at levels higher than EPA limits. Ella must have kept that a secret for her own reasons. Kate would never know them. And she couldn’t process this right now; her sadness over Ella and Eli was pushed away as she dealt with her own immediate situation.

She met with FBI people she’d never heard of, including Sloan’s boss’s boss, and answered the same questions over and over from the bed. On video. Signed things, many times. Sloan had a lawyer for her; he made sure to be there during questioning.

Her stomach was bandaged and had a drain, which seemed perverse. She hid it under the blankets when anyone came, and hid the urine bag, too, by pulling a sheet down over the edge of the bed. She didn’t think people should be bothering her like this, but they were.

Allison was in a different hospital; she’d be transferred to a federal prison later. She hadn’t given a reason for what she did, wasn’t talking at all. They thought she might have been working for Mancini, but Allison was silent.

There would be no charges filed against Kate for attacking Allison, it was credible self-defense, although she needed to give several more depositions.

The nurses were wonderful. When she got too tired, all she needed to do was look over and someone was there, adjusting her drip, arranging her blankets, snapping at people to leave, let her rest.

A therapist started coming. Her name was Mildred Fairweather and Kate didn’t like her, but Kate didn’t like anyone. All she’d wanted was to see her mom and Lila and Sloan, and here they were, and she was empty. Her emotions were gone. She was watching things happen like on that video phone, Allison’s video phone, Allison’s video phone, Allison’s video phone, Allison’s gray eyes, Allison’s gun, the man putting her into the car—

* * *

She woke up screaming, again. The sheets were soaked and her IV was twisted and her arm was on fire. She was sure the vein was bursting, it had burst, it was dying. The nurses said it was fine. The nurses rushed to fix it, adjust it, soothe the torn skin. She just wanted to go home.

She called for Sloan, and he was there, but he was floating above her, his face foggy. Someone said the word infection. She didn’t know what that meant anymore. The sounds around her were a cacophony of underwater blurs, she could see them like color splashes, primary colors in the rain. She fell into it.

* * *

This time when she opened her eyes, things were different. She was herself again, and she was alone. She moved her arm, felt the IV zing. She touched her stomach through the blanket, shifted experimentally. A twinge. The fire was out.

This tired her, so she lay back, shifting her legs, and examined the room. Monitors. Whiteboard with scrawled information. The gown was blue with white dots. Ugly. The sheets were scratchy, kind of. She shifted, wondered if she could sit up; she could. She pulsed her stomach muscles and they felt all right, and she wondered if she should try standing. She didn’t know what day it was, or what time it was. Her toes were bare, and she wondered if standing on the floor was hygienic. Then she laughed. The sound was sad and thin and startled her because it didn’t sound like a laugh; more like a bray of a hyena. She cleared her throat.

“Kate.” Sloan was there, on the other side of the room.

“Sloan!” She wanted to go to him, but her body resisted, and she wasn’t sure how to move with the wires and monitors. She was tethered. “Sloan, please come here.”

He rushed over and she grabbed at him. “I missed you. I needed you. You saved my life.”

“You saved mine, too.” His eyes met hers, and he looked sad. “You saved mine, too.”

“That’s good, right?” She grabbed his hand. She never wanted to let him go. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. You’re the one I—we’ve been worried about.” He searched her face, touched her arm, winced. “You’re pale. I’ll call the nurse.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Don’t. I’m okay. Just sit by me, okay?”

“You get back on the pillows.” He helped swing her legs back onto the mattress, and shifted her before pulling the thin blanket up. “Are you sure you don’t need someone?” He looked worried, helpless. There were dark bags under his eyes and he was older. “Your mom and Lila are in the café. I can get them.”

“I need just you.” The words came out fast, almost garbled. She closed her eyes, leaned back. The effort of sitting up had her wiped out, and her stomach throbbed, sharp stabs and knives. She gave a small moan and touched the bandages. “Ouch.”

He pressed a button, then got up to call out into the hallway. “Nurse, please?” He turned to her. “Katie, I’m getting someone.”

“No, it’s just—come back here.”

He sat beside her, shooting looks toward the door. She touched his hand, feeling the IVs travel along like vines, external veins, dripping clear blood into her body. She was all inside out. She didn’t know which way was up.

“What happened, exactly?” She frowned.

“Allison betrayed the team. She isn’t saying why, or who she was working for. They’ll figure it out.” His voice was dark, and she shuddered, not just at the memories of what Allison had done, but that gruesome future for Allison, filled with nothing but despair and pain. Allison was a monster, but more monstrous things were coming, things that shouldn’t exist in the world, even if Allison deserved them, and—the bleakness of the whole thing pressed down on her and she started to shake.

“Kate. Nurse, now!” His voice was full of anger, frustration, and the room filled with medical staff out of nowhere, like wraiths appearing out of thin air. Blood pressure, heart monitor—panic attack.
Ativan, 2mg. Set up psych counsel ASAP. Do you have the chart? Where’s the chart?
And then, when the thing settled, an undertone:
You going to Carol’s goodbye thing on two? There’s chocolate cake.

The medicine made her drowsy, and when she opened her eyes, Sloan was still there.

“Kate.” He shifted. “Rest.”

“No. I need to know things. Then I can rest. Tell me about Mancini.”

He touched her hand. “Later.”

“No, now.” She struggled to sit up. “So what happened to him?” She thought she knew this, but everything was uncertain in her mind.

“We got him and his buyer and a few other bidders. The material is safe now, off the market. The information you got us at the pawn shop allowed them to get into the auction on the dark web and find the people we needed.”

“So we did it?”

“Yeah.” He gave her a sad smile. “We did it.”

“So I’m safe?” She blinked.

“Yeah. You are. Allison’s in custody. Mancini and his crew are gone, Kate. The board of directors took over the water plant and I’m sure they’re going to fix things up there. A new CEO has been appointed and she’s already taking steps to fix things.”

“Does she know that it was dirty water?” She coughed, swallowed some water from the cup on her nightstand. This water tasted pure and clean. The cup was a sterile beige, and she shuddered.

Sloan nodded. “Yes. In fact, once you’re well, they’re eager to talk to you. Mancini destroyed all of the internal data, so your copy of the data from Ella is the only existing record of their original lead values and the fake ones, too. They’d like to work with you to reconstruct the timeline of what happened and when in the factory. She wants to partner with you to come clean about the plant and the way it’s going to be different in the future. You can write your articles about how the water was dirty, and interview the new board on how they’re going to fix it. Go back to work. Your life.”

“My apartment?”

He winced. “It got tossed, but your mom and Lila have been working to fix it up. I promise, it’ll look great.”

“You were hurt, too. Were you hurt badly? Is it your shoulder?” She peered at his arm, touching the sling.

“Yeah, and my neck. I lost a lot of blood, but it will heal up. You took a bullet to the stomach and it got infected. Thank God you’re okay now.”

“I guess I should have asked the surgeon to put you on the team,” she joked. “And your shots of penicillin.”

He didn’t smile. “It was close, Kate.” His face twisted. “I can’t stay here with you. I need to go back.”

“Back to what?” Her voice was hollow.

“My job. My life. I told you that we’d get out of this, and we did. You’re free now. I’m sorry for what you had to go through, all of it, from the beginning to the end. I think you’re ready to heal now.”

“But—but—” She didn’t know what to say. “But I thought. We… we…”

“You thought we’d have a relationship?” His voice was gentle. “Kate, what you felt for me was situational attachment. It was Stockholm syndrome, pretty much. Once you get back on your feet, you’ll realize that, and be glad I left. It’s better for you to have me out of your life. I’ll just be a reminder of the pain and the struggles.”

“No!” She sat up, batting at the IV line to get it out of her face. “Sloan, no. That’s not true. I care for you! I love you.”

He looked away. “You don’t, Kate. You just think you do.”

“No, I do. I really do. I—liked what we did. What you did. I mean, not the first time when you spanked me. But later on, it helped, okay? And I liked it! And we made love. Sloan, don’t go!” Her voice rose.

“Katie. I did that to settle you down. It was a risk and it worked. In my job, I have to read people and do what’s necessary to help them in each situation. With you, I spanked you and had sex with you so you wouldn’t go insane.”