Susie Banks pushed a button to raise her hospital bed so she could peer out the cabin window. She liked the woods, the birdsong, everything about this place. It was so quiet here, so peaceful.
But nice as it was, what she wanted more than anything was to be back home with her parents. In the kitchen, Josh was brewing a pot of coffee and cooking something for dinner. The delicious smells made Susie think about all the times she had cooked with her mother. A lump formed in her throat, so large that for a moment it was difficult to swallow or breathe. Funny how a simple smell could cause a flood of painful memories.
Tears flowed.
Gone. They’re gone.
A few minutes later, Josh brought over a tray holding a plate of pasta in red sauce, a leafy salad in a ceramic bowl, and some meatballs steaming in a clear glass dish.
“I didn’t know if you were a vegetarian, so I put the meatballs on the side,” he said, carefully setting the tray on Susie’s bed.
“Thanks,” said Susie, feeling famished for the first time. “It all looks great.”
Josh scrutinized his handiwork. “Hold on a second,” he said.
Josh scampered back to the kitchen, returning moments later with a small glass vase containing a single yellow flower.
“I picked this for you,” he said. “Thought it might brighten your meal.”
Susie’s smile was wide and deeply appreciative. She knew she looked awful, pasty, with no makeup, her hair a mess, but Josh did not seem to notice, or care, and this made her feel relaxed around him.
Valerie Cowart returned from outside and lifted Susie’s arm, the one that had vascular access for dialysis. “How are we feeling?”
Susie liked Nurse Valerie immensely. In a way, she reminded Susie of her mother, only twenty years older. Valerie managed to keep in great shape thanks to a dedicated regimen of walking. She was tall and long-limbed, with a glowing, round face, deep brown eyes, and short dark hair streaked throughout with gray. She always dressed for outdoors, not in some nurse’s uniform or scrubs, which made Susie feel a little less like a patient.
“What’s wrong with me?” Susie’s voice had become quiet.
Valerie pulled her lips together. “I don’t know the answer to that one, I’m afraid. But I do know you’re a fighter. You’re going to pull through this. I can feel it.”
Valerie checked Susie’s vitals, which were holding steady. She retreated to the kitchen, where she washed the dinner dishes before sitting down to the meal Josh had left for her on the dining room table.
Josh stayed on the front porch while Susie ate, keeping lookout, eyes fixed to the vast forest before him, alert as an eagle guarding its nest. When he came back inside, Susie called him over to her bed.
“Why are you here?” she asked. “And why is the Secret Service involved?”
Josh lifted Susie’s tray off the bed and set it on the floor. Susie sensed his reluctance to answer.
“We think somebody is trying to hurt you,” he finally said.
“Who?”
“We don’t know.”
“Was the gas leak an accident?”
“We don’t know.”
A word flashed in Susie’s mind.
Murder.
“Tell me the truth,” Susie said. “Does Cam Hilliard have what I have? Does this have something to do with the TPI?”
“Guess my answer.”
Josh’s broad smile was the best part of Susie’s day. A spark flared in her eyes. “You don’t know,” she said.
To Susie’s surprise, Josh brushed a strand of hair that had fallen in front of her face, and his touch sent shivers through her body. He was older and extremely handsome and if she ever had a serious boyfriend she’d want him to be like Josh—strong and confident, not like the cellist she had once dated whose hand got sweaty whenever she held it.
“Just know I’ll be here, watching over you. I might not be Secret Service like my mom, but the army trained me pretty good.”
“Pretty well.”
“Yeah, that too,” Josh said, not skipping a beat. “Well or good, believe it when I say you’re safe with me.”
She believed him.
Josh pulled up a stool, sat down beside Susie’s bed, and the two of them spent time talking as though they were out on a dinner date. She was curious about him. If he was going to guard her life, she wanted to know him better. Susie shared stories of her family that brought tears to her eyes, while Josh told her of his time in the military, his love of skiing, and mentioned a recent breakup with a woman named Hannah. Susie was not at all displeased by this breakup news. Their banter was effortless, and twice he made her laugh hard, something she had not done in ages.
Susie surveyed the room, taking inventory of all the belongings Dr. Blackwood had brought from home. The books and clothes were comfortingly familiar, but her eyes went to another object on the floor next to a stack of books—her violin case.
“Could you please hand that to me?” She pointed.
“Sure thing,” said Josh.
Josh retrieved the violin and handed it to Susie. She sat more upright in bed. After undoing the metal clasps, Susie opened the case, brushing her hand against the soft, velvety interior, feeling the plush texture tickle her fingertips. She took the instrument, her backup violin, in her hands. The burnished wood gleamed brightly when it caught the glow of the powerful portable lamps near her bedside.
“Do you play any instruments?” she asked.
“Does Spotify count?” Josh’s half smile was endearing.
“Not really,” she said, crinkling her nose at him. “What do you like to listen to?”
“Um … Metallica?”
Her expression turned playfully curious. “Are you saying you listen to Metallica, or are you unsure of what it is you listen to?”
“I’m sure I listen to it, but I’m unsure if you’ve heard of them.”
“Just because I play Bach doesn’t mean I don’t know who Metallica is,” said Susie playfully. She paused, pondering something. “You do know who Bach is, don’t you?”
“You mean my man, Johann?”
Susie’s eyes went wide with surprise. “I’m impressed,” she said.
She removed the bow from the case and ran her fingers along the thin ribbons of fine horsehair before placing her chin on the chin rest. Touching her instrument reset Susie’s mood.
“My parents loved it when I played,” she said.
Gone. They’re gone.
But she could still play for them.
Susie pulled the bow across the strings and felt her spirits soar as the notes spilled out. Out of the corner of her eye, Susie saw Josh smiling at her as she played, and it sent her spirits soaring even higher.
* * *
MAUSER WAS sleeping on his couch when a phone call woke him. He checked the number and became fully alert in a blink. Rainmaker did not call often, or without good reason.
“I told you, I have no idea where the girl’s gone to,” Mauser said in response to Rainmaker’s question. “I’ve checked all over. One of my best customers is a hacker working for the damn NSA.… Hey, easy, easy, he’s not some outsider, I’m not an idiot.… You know him, hell, you hired him, remember? Anyway, I gave him a few freebies and he got into the electronic records systems of the largest hospitals. They all share patient information these days. He went looking for new patients with those symptoms you told me about, or close to it, and I’ve checked them all out, but none of them match our girl.”
More grumblings from Rainmaker. Mauser was getting edgy. Meth was a steady trade, and access to the drug had certainly come in handy when he had tried to do away with the girl. But the real cash cow these days was in opioids. Synthetic crap, a lot of it coming from China, was flooding the market, driving up the price for the real deal. If he lost his oxy supply, which Rainmaker threatened would happen, it would crush his profits. Rainmaker warned him again of the coming drought.
“Well, what do you want me to do?” Mauser asked. “I can’t find her.”
Rainmaker expressed his displeasure at Mauser’s failure to do away with the girl—again.
“Look, you agreed to the plan, it’s not all on me,” Mauser said.
Rainmaker thought it was all on him.
“Whatever,” Mauser said. “The dose of meth she got should have killed her, but then again the gas should have killed her, too. What can I tell you, there’s something weird with her. The doctor—Blackwood—I bet you anything he’s the one who saved her.”
Apparently that doc had been a source of surprise all around. Rainmaker went off on him for a while. Even gave Mauser a detailed dossier on Blackwood, including revelations that his ex-wife was Secret Service and his kid ex-military, all of which could complicate matters.
“So is that what this call is about?” Mauser asked. “The doc? He’s got you that spooked?”
More chatter. Yeah, Rainmaker was spooked all right. If Rainmaker had given orders to do away with Doc Blackwood, he’d have died in that hospital stairwell, but no such mandate had been issued, and Mauser did not kill for sport.
“I’ve got bigger fish to catch and fry,” Mauser said, thinking now was not the time to add a new target to his hit list. “I can’t be stretched that thin.”
Wrong answer.
Mauser sat up, rubbing at his face to wipe the sleep from his eyes. Light streamed into his apartment overlooking the D.C. cityscape from a bank of west-facing windows. By D.C. standards, Mauser’s home was a pretty nice place to live. It had two generous-sized bedrooms, and the airy layout with high ceilings and wood floors was nicely furnished with a modern, industrial flair. The couch where Mauser had fallen asleep (low to the ground with durable red cushions) cost over two thousand dollars. The idea of trading these digs for a concrete cell made Mauser shudder.
“Why don’t you listen before you get all crazy on me,” Mauser said in an angry tone. “I can still do it. I can still handle Doc Blackwood and the other job, but I don’t have to be the one to do it. I got a guy, name’s Willie Caine. He rides with me. Kid’s got a crazy long rap sheet, but he’s also got skills. We’ll take Doc Blackwood out at his practice. Bait him there if we have to. If something goes wrong—and I’m not saying it will, but if it does—the police will think Caine’s a junkie looking for a fix.”
At last, Mauser had said something Rainmaker agreed with.
“Now, what about the boy?” Mauser asked. Obviously, Rainmaker knew he was referring to Cam Hilliard. Rainmaker told him what was going to happen.
Mauser smiled to himself. It was cool to know the biggest news story in the world hours before it happened.