Nothing.
Emily had left nothing in her condo to indicate where she was going. There were no voice mail messages on her answering machine, no jotted notes, no address book lying open that might offer a clue about her destination.
His anxiety mushrooming, Mark propped his fists on his hips and took one more look around her kitchen. Short of aimlessly trolling the streets and hoping to spot her car somewhere, there was little he could do to track her down. Except pray some law enforcement officer somewhere would spot her car and link it to the alert.
But the odds diminished as the minutes passed and the field of search broadened. According to Evelyn, she’d left—he checked his watch—an hour ago. She could already be fifty miles away.
Or gone forever.
He didn’t want to think about that possibility. Tried not to. But it was there, and he couldn’t ignore it. Edwards had tried to kill her once. And come very, very close. A second attempt would be carried out with as much care as the first—if not more—to ensure he didn’t fail again.
As a result, there was a high likelihood he would succeed.
Intellectually, Mark knew that. You couldn’t deal with the dregs of society for as many years as he had without knowing the odds in a situation like this. Realism turned to pessimism fast in the world he inhabited. If she’d been missing for an hour, the chances of finding her alive weren’t good.
But his heart wouldn’t accept that.
What kind of cruel twist of fate would allow him to reconnect with her after all these years, then snatch her away? God wouldn’t let that happen.
Would he?
Mark’s BlackBerry began to vibrate, and he whipped it out, trying to steady the tremor in his hands. “Yes?”
“We’ve got her car.” It was Steve.
The terse statement slammed him like a body punch. “Where?”
A single word was all he could manage. He was already moving toward the door as he spoke, gesturing to Kevin.
“The same church parking lot he used as a staging area for the first attempt.”
He sucked in a sharp breath at the frightening, perverted logic of the location. The guy was finishing the job where he’d started it. A rising swell of panic threatened to swamp him, and he broke into a sprint.
“We’re on our way. Is Emily there?” It was the hardest question he’d ever had to ask—and he braced for Steve’s response as Kevin slid behind the wheel.
“The car’s locked and appears to be empty. But the engine is running. The call came in from Frank Purnell. The same guy whose kid gave us the tip that resulted in the Eight List. His son saw the car turn in with a driver and a female passenger. Ten minutes ago the man walked out alone. The boy told his dad, and Purnell went over to check out the car, then called 911.
Oakdale is enroute.”
Mark gestured for Kevin to take the next left. “We’re two minutes away. I’ll call you when we have news.”
The next 120 seconds were the longest Mark had ever endured. Far worse than the brief HRT fire training exercise in Zthe three-story tower known as the hot house. Pitch dark, filled with caustic smoke that clawed at his lungs and heat that seared his eyes, the concrete inferno had left a lasting impression on him. Those few minutes had been as close to hell as he’d ever wanted to get.
Until now.
As they turned the corner onto the street where the church was located, he saw an Oakdale police car converging from the other direction. He and Kevin got there first and swung into the lot, the police close behind.
“In the corner.” Mark pointed to the far end. He recognized Emily’s car. Frank Purnell stood beside it.
Without waiting for the car to come to a complete stop, Mark pushed open the door and hit the ground running.
“Tell me what you know.” Mark grabbed the man’s flashlight and clicked it on as he swung the beam around the interior, then began to circle the car, Frank on his heels.
“Ever since you and your colleagues came to the house, David’s been into this surveillance thing. He and a friend have been watching the street from his tree house, hoping to spot that car we saw the day we left on vacation. I told him it was a long shot, but that didn’t stop him. Anyway, that’s why they were up there tonight and noticed that the driver turned off his lights when he pulled onto our street. At first, I thought it was their overactive imagination, but when they kept pushing I decided to come over and check it out. I’m still not convinced that—”
Mark’s sudden, explosive oath cut Frank off midsentence.
Kevin was beside him in two strides, pushing past the undergrowth around the rear of the car. Mark tossed him the flashlight as he bent down to yank at the hose that had been fed into the floor of the trunk.
“Either get a door open in the next ten seconds or smash a window,” Mark snapped at the cop who’d followed Kevin over.
“And radio for an ambulance.”
Two more police cars arrived, but Mark didn’t even notice.
He was focused on the trunk. “Emily? Can you hear me?” He leaned close, willing her to answer. But there was only silence.
The sound of shattering glass suddenly sliced through the darkness. A few seconds later, the trunk release clicked.
Mark yanked up the lid—and fought down a wave of panic as he caught his first glimpse of Emily.
Her hands were bound behind her with duct tape, her eyes were closed—and she didn’t seem to be breathing.
Fear coursing through his veins, Mark pressed his fingers against her neck, as he’d done three weeks ago just a few hundred yards from this spot. Her pulse that day had been steady, if a bit faint. Now, in addition to being faint, it was rapid and irregular. But at least it was there.
Sliding his arms under her knees and shoulders, he lifted her gently out of the trunk. One of the cops had already retrieved a blanket from his car and had spread it on the ground. Another produced a pair of scissors from his first aid kit. Mark reached for them, but Kevin intervened.
“Let me.”
Mark didn’t argue. Considering how badly his hands were shaking, he’d do more harm than good if he tried to use them.
Dropping to one knee, Kevin carefully cut through the tape, freeing Emily as the ambulance turned into the parking lot and pulled to the rear of the building.
Mark knelt beside her and took her hand, brushing the hair back from her forehead. “Hang in there, Em.” The hoarse entreaty was all he could manage.
“What do we have?”
The paramedics joined him, and he moved aside to give them room to work.
“Carbon monoxide poisoning.”
The two technicians went into action.
“Put her on 100 percent oxygen while I get her vitals.” The first technician pulled on a pair of latex gloves as he talked.
“Then get a blood sample. Let’s be prepared to intubate. And start a drip.”
A hand settled on Mark’s shoulder, and he looked up to find Steve at his side.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m the boss. I don’t have to do cleanup duty after an arrest.”
He dropped down beside him to balance on the balls of his feet.
“How is she?”
“Alive. Beyond that, I have no idea.”
“We’d better be ready for seizures.” The first technician pulled the stethoscope out of his ears. “And let’s get an EKG.”
“Is she going to be okay?”
At Mark’s question, the man turned. “Carbon monoxide poisoning is tricky. Any idea how long she was in the car?”
“Ten or fifteen minutes. In the trunk.”
The man winced as he turned back to prep Emily for the EKG. “High levels of CO can be fatal within minutes. I’m guessing you got to her just in time. Is there any chance this was a suicide attempt?”
“No.”
At Mark’s cold tone, the man shot an apologetic look over his shoulder. “Sorry. Most of these cases are.”
With an effort, Mark curbed his anger. The guy didn’t know Emily. Otherwise, he’d understand that suicide would be the last thing she’d ever contemplate. No matter how bad things got.
“Her wrists were bound,” Mark told him.
“But not her feet?”
“No.”
The paramedic glanced down at her hands, lifting one to examine it. “Odd that there’s no chafing on her wrists. You’d expect some if she’d tried to free herself.” He laid her hand down and gave the rest of her body a quick scan. “And there’s no visible trauma to indicate resistance or struggle. The unbound feet bother me too.” He refocused on the EKG. “She may have been drugged.”
“Does that complicate things?” The quiet question came from Steve.
“It can. It would help if we knew what was used.” He looked over at his partner. “Get some blood samples for toxicology.”
“Is that Frank Purnell?” Steve touched Mark’s shoulder again and inclined his head toward the man standing in the shadows nearby.
“Yes.”
“I’m going to talk to him. And his son.”
He should be doing that, Mark knew. No one wanted the guy who’d done this caught more than he did. And he and Coop had taken the lead on the case up until now. But he couldn’t leave Emily. And Steve didn’t seem to expect him to.
The paramedic checked the data being generated by the EKG, and Mark watched over his shoulder. It was gibberish to him.
“Is her heart okay?”
“So far, so good. I’m more worried about cerebral edema.”
“Give me that in English.”
“Swelling of the brain. It’s a common result of severe carbon monoxide poisoning. They’ll monitor for that at the hospital.”
He looked at his partner. “You ready to transport?”
“Yes.”
As they lifted the gurney and wheeled Emily toward the ambulance, Kevin joined Mark.
“I’m going with her.” Mark watched as they maneuvered the gurney into the vehicle.
“That’s what I figured.”
“Tell Steve I want to be there when we bring this guy down.”
“I’ll pass that on.”
Without waiting for a response, Mark headed toward the ambulance. He trusted the other agents to give this case their full attention.
Right now, Emily needed him more.
And once she was awake enough to understand his words, he was going to do his best to convince her she needed him for a lot longer than that.
Like forever.
Dale signed the tab for the rental car, lifted his tote bag, and headed toward the bus at Lambert International Airport that would take him to long-term parking.
His mission was over.
He hoped God was pleased.
But his own emotions were a confusing jumble. He’d expected to feel a sense of righteousness after he’d finished his task. Of completion.
Instead, he felt depleted.
And empty.
Since Ruthie’s death, his life had been filled with purpose as he’d focused on the mission God had given him. Now, God was silent, leaving him directionless.
What would fill his days in the weeks and months and years ahead? His work was meaningless. The home he’d loved was empty and silent. His family was gone.
Nothing mattered anymore.
All at once, the grief he’d held at bay for the past two months struck with sudden, sharp force. It was like a physical blow, and he stumbled as he boarded the bus. He’d have fallen if someone hadn’t reached from behind and grasped his arm to steady him.
“Careful there. That’s a tricky step. You okay?”
He looked over his shoulder at the thirtysomething man in a business suit, briefcase in his hand. Perhaps a hotshot salesman returning after a long day of travel, anxious to get home to his wife and family. There’d probably be a light left on for him, welcoming him back, and maybe a plate of food warming in the oven.
Ruthie had done that for him, on the nights he’d worked late.
But there was no one waiting for him now. The two people he loved most in the world were buried six feet under the parched ground. There’d be no light on for him, no plate set aside. The house would be dark and empty and silent. Tonight, and for all the nights to come.
Resuming his ascent, he shuffled down the narrow aisle and chose a seat in the back of the bus. The young man who’d assisted him sent a concerned look his direction, but he averted his head. He didn’t want the man’s sympathy. He wanted Ruthie and Bryan.
The bus jolted forward, and he gripped the bag in his lap as he stared out into the darkness, wiping his sleeve across his eyes. He couldn’t go back to the house yet. He needed to be with Ruthie and Bryan.
It was time to say a proper good-bye.
“How’s she doing?”
Lifting his head out of his hands, Mark raised bleary eyes to find Nick standing above him. “Holding her own. That’s what they tell me, anyway. They’ve been working on her ever since we got here. They’ve only let me stick my head in twice.” He checked his watch, surprised to find it wasn’t quite eleven o’clock yet. He felt as if he’d been in the ER waiting room for ten hours. “Why aren’t you home sleeping?”
“The adrenaline’s still pumping from the arrests.” Nick dropped into the chair beside Mark.
That was a lie. Nick had to be dead on his feet, considering all the hours he’d been putting in on the bank case. It spoke volumes about their friendship that he’d shown up to offer moral support.
“Thanks.” The word came out hoarse and barely there.
“No problem.”
“Any news on Edwards?”
“No.”
That was the answer he’d expected. Steve would have called if there were any breaks.
“Mr. Sanders?”
A nurse stood on the threshold of the waiting room, and Mark vaulted to his feet, his heart thudding against his ribcage.
“Yes?”
“Dr. Lawson is beginning to say a few words. Would you like to go in?”
“Yes.” He turned toward Nick. “I’ll be back.”
“I’ll be here.”
When they reached Emily’s curtained cubicle, the nurse turned to him. “The doctor will be by in a few minutes. He’d like to speak with you.” She held the curtain aside for him to enter.
From his youngest days, Mark had never liked hospitals. And his distaste for them had grown through the years. They were too often the source of bad news.
But not at the moment. On Mark’s last visit, Emily had been awake but unresponsive. This time, as he moved toward the bed and entered her peripheral vision, she turned her head toward him. And somehow managed a sleepy smile. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he smiled back.
“Hi.” He leaned down and brushed his lips over her forehead above the oxygen mask, grasping her cool hand in his.
“Take the job, Mark.”
“What?” He frowned and backed up to look at her face. Her muffled voice was weak, her words slurred, and he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly.
“Take the job here.”
Not quite willing to believe what he thought she was implying, he entwined his fingers with hers. “We can talk about that later.”
“I love you.” Her eyelids drifted closed as she whispered the words.
There was no doubt about the meaning of that statement. But she’d also been drugged and poisoned. He’d have to wait until she was more coherent to accept it as truth. Yet he couldn’t stop the surge of hope that filled him with warmth.
“I love you too, Em,” he whispered. If he’d had any doubts about the depth of his own feelings, they’d evaporated in the past several hours as he’d faced the possibility he might lose her.
“I hurt,” she mumbled, giving no indication she’d heard his declaration.
“Where?”
“Everywhere. My head.”
“Mr. Sanders?”
He turned to find a white-coated figure at his elbow. The doctor was dark-haired and fortyish, and the shadows under his eyes spoke of sleep deprivation or dedication. Probably both.
“She says she hurts.”
“I’m not surprised. But we’d rather not put any more drugs into her body. May I speak with you for a minute?” He motioned to a spot outside of Emily’s curtained alcove.
Relinquishing Emily’s fingers, Mark joined the doctor.
“Brendon O’Neal.” The man held out his hand, and Mark returned his firm grip. “You came in with Dr. Lawson, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Sorry it took me so long to catch up with you. Crazy night.
I understand you filled out a lot of the paperwork when she arrived.”
“Yes.”
“Are you a relative?”
“No.”
“Do you have medical power of attorney?”
A wave of panic washed over him. “No. Her pastor does. I can get his name for you. Is there a problem? One of the paramedics mentioned cerebral edema.” His voice choked on the last word.
“I see nothing to indicate any major trauma as a result of the CO poisoning, and she’s responding well to oxygen therapy. I’m more concerned about the drug that was used to subdue her.
We sent the blood samples the paramedics took to toxicology, and at their suggestion we ran some tests for GHB, rohypnol, and ketamine hydrochloride. A good decision, because those drugs only remain in the bloodstream in a measurable amount for a few hours. The test came back positive for GHB.”
“GHB.” Mark repeated the name. It had been a long day, and his brain wasn’t clicking on all cylinders anymore.
“Gamma hydroxy butyrate. On the street it goes by a variety of names, including Easy Lay, Liquid Ecstasy, Clear X, and Liquid X, among others.”
Shock rippled through Mark. “He gave Emily a date rape drug?”
“Yes. As you may know, victims of those drugs suffer antero-grade amnesia, meaning they have little or no memory of what occurred while the drug was active in their system. Dr. Lawson will never be able to give us a coherent account of what happened. After examining her, I think the drug was used strictly to immobilize her. But it would be prudent to confirm that.”
It took a couple of seconds for the doctor’s meaning to sink in, and when it did, Mark felt sick to his stomach. Surely Dale Edwards hadn’t . . . He tried to swallow past the bile that rose in his throat.
“I realize she’s already been through a lot of trauma today,” the doctor continued. “But the effects of the drug are just beginning to wear off, and she’ll remember little of the next few hours. We’ll check her out as quickly and painlessly as possible. If you’ll get me the name of her pastor, we’ll clear the procedure.”
Turning to look at Emily through the gap in the curtain, Mark took a deep breath. If Edwards had touched her, the prosecution would want to know. And there were health implications to consider as well. “I’ll have it for you in five minutes.”
The doctor nodded. “Will you be staying around?”
“Yes.”
“There’s coffee in the waiting room.”
“Thanks.”
He waited until the doctor left, then returned to Emily’s cubicle. She was sleeping again, her long lashes sweeping against her pale cheeks, the rise and fall of her chest reassuring in its steadiness. Beneath the sleeve of her hospital gown, he caught a glimpse of the scar on her left arm, and he reached over to trace it with a gentle finger.
She’d been through so much. Too much.
When this was over, if she’d meant the words she’d said a few minutes ago, he made a silent, fervent vow to do his best to protect her every day for as long as he lived.
Because he could no longer imagine his life without her.
“Mr. Sanders?”
Much to his surprise, Mark had dozed off in the waiting room.
Nick had too, he noted with a quick glance. But he came awake instantly when Dr. O’Neal addressed him.
“I have two pieces of good news,” the man told him. “First, the drug was used for one purpose. To immobilize. Period. Second, Dr. Lawson is awake and responsive, and she’s asking for you.
We’re about to move her to a regular room.”
Mark closed his eyes and drew a long, slow breath. Thank you, Lord.
Three minutes later, when Mark stepped into Emily’s curtained cube, he was astonished at the change in her. She looked much more alert, and the oxygen mask had been removed.
She reached out a hand as he approached, and he drew it to his lips.
“We have to stop meeting like this, you know.”
“I think I’ve heard that line before.” His lips quirked into a smile.
“You have. And I hope I never have to use it again.”
“Amen to that.” Perching on the edge of her bed, he assessed her. Her color was better and her eyes were focused. But he saw the strain in her features. Leaning over, he traced the faint twin furrows on her brow.
“Headache?”
“Yes. Thanks to the drug I was given, the doctor says I could have hangover symptoms for the next two or three days. That will be a new experience for me.” She rubbed her thumb over his knuckles and searched his face. “Did you find him?”
“Not yet. But we will.” His jaw settled into a determined line.
“Promise me something, Mark.” Her grip on his hand tightened. He hesitated, feeling her urgency, sensing he wasn’t going to like her request. “I’ll try.”
“Don’t hurt him.”
“Emily, the man tried to kill you. Twice.”
“He’s very troubled, Mark. And ill. He needs help. Please don’t let anyone hurt him.”
As far as he was concerned, the world would be better off without Dale Edwards. “If he pulls a gun on us, there’s nothing I can do to protect him.”
She gave a slow nod. “I understand that. But if he doesn’t?”
It was impossible to ignore the plea in her eyes. “I’ll do what I can.” It was the best he could offer.
“Thank you.” She squeezed his hand. “Now go home and get some sleep. You’ve got to be running on pure adrenaline. It’s one o’clock in the morning.”
“I’ll wait until you’re settled in your room.”
“That could be hours.”
“She’s right.” O’Neal joined them. “She’s out of danger. And the best thing for her to do is rest. I think she’ll find that easier to do if she knows you’re at home sleeping. You and your friend look dead on your feet.”
“Friend?” Emily sent Mark a questioning look.
“Nick’s here with me.”
Her face softened. “Thank him for me. And take him home.”
“Good advice. I’ll see you before they move you upstairs,”the doctor told her.
As he disappeared, Emily reached for Mark’s hand again. “Go home and crash. Just promise you’ll come back tomorrow.”
“Try and keep me away.” Leaning over, he brushed his lips across hers. There really wasn’t any reason for him to stay. An Oakdale cop was close by—and would remain that way until Edwards was arrested. Not that Emily needed to know that.
She’d had enough stress for one day. For one lifetime.
“You can do better than that.” She put her arms around his neck as he attempted to pull away. “I know that for a fact.”
“Don’t tempt me.” He chuckled and rubbed his cheek against her temple. Easing back a bit, he framed her face with his hands.
“Get well first.”
She touched his chin, now sporting a scratchy stubble. “I kind of like this bad-boy look.”
He took her hand and kissed her fingertips. “Stop that.”
With an exaggerated sigh, she retrieved her hand. “I guess I’ve lost my woman-in-jeopardy allure.”
“Trust me, Em. Your allure hasn’t faded.” And leaning over, he claimed her lips in a brief but intense kiss designed to erase any doubt from her mind. “Still worried?”
With a contented smile, she shook her head.
“Good. But if you need convincing again tomorrow, I’ll be happy to comply.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
And with that promise echoing in his ears, he knew he would sleep better tonight than he had in weeks.