The ambulance doors opened the moment the vehicle pulled beneath the awning of the hospital entrance. Black gun barrels appeared from both sides of the open doors. FBI operators in full tactical gear, vests, and helmets emblazoned with the HRT logo of the fed’s elite hostage rescue team trained their weapons on the occupants.
The EMT in the ambulance shrank back into a corner with his arms held high. John wasn’t surprised by the show of force. As soon as the feds had found out Winnow still had a pulse, they’d sent in the tactical team. John moved slowly, not offering the HRT gunmen any excuse to shoot.
“Got him,” one of the operators called out.
John noticed Special Agent K. Lincoln, decked out in a tailored, tight ballistic vest that looked more like a corset than a piece of personal protective equipment. Next to her, two camera crews from local news stations televised the takedown.
The television camera panned toward the back of the ambulance, where hospital staff swarmed to help the EMTs unload Tommy.
Someone from one of the news crews shouted, “Where is the killer?”
Once the first-question barrier shattered, reporters jostled for the best camera angles, and the air filled with a mass of adverb-laden mush. No single question was discernible in the fray, but a few words pierced through: “letdown,” “snipe hunt at Raley Field,” and “FBI failure.”
The cameras turned on Agent Lincoln, and the rehearsed speech announcing the capture of Brice Winnow wasn’t going to help her now. Color drained from her face as she struggled against the jostling media. “We recovered the boy, and the killer is in custody—that’s all that matters,” she said as she retreated inside the hospital doors.
HRT shielded John and Tommy’s gurney from view. They pressed through a sliding-glass partition into the emergency room. Moments later, a second gurney with an unresponsive Winnow rolled into the room. A second team of medical staff attended to his injuries.
“Thanks for keeping him at a distance,” John said.
An HRT operator nodded. “We’re glad you got your boy back.” The HRT members left the room, and John glimpsed Melissa standing near the nurses’ station. Her face was red and blotched from sobbing. Their eyes met, and her shoulders fell in relief. Melissa came to John and hugged him while a medical team examined Tommy.
“I thought I lost you both,” Melissa said.
“We need to talk.” John took her by the elbow and led her to an isolated corner of the emergency room but still within view of the doctors tending to Tommy.
“I know what you did,” John said in a tired voice.
Melissa’s lips tightened. “John, you’re exhausted. Let’s talk about all this later.” She turned to leave, but John took her arm and pulled her back to him. “You’re hurting me.”
John hadn’t realized how hard he clamped onto her arm, and he let go. He stepped closer and said, “I know about the ten-thousand-dollar payment.”
Her eyes hardened. “At least I did something. Why didn’t you?”
“You can’t make deals with these people.”
“We’re just supposed to sit and pray something good happens? That’s not enough.”
“Where did you even get the money?”
“I borrowed it from my sister.”
“Why would you do this?”
“I couldn’t see my son get passed over on the transplant list again. It’s not right. He deserves a chance.”
“It almost got him killed. Don’t you get that? It’s the black market.”
“I couldn’t just stand around and wait for him to die, John.”
“Hey, guys,” Paula said. The couple hadn’t noticed Paula approach or the stares from hospital workers within earshot. “Keep it down, would ya?”
“I tried to tell you when Tommy’s transplant fell through. I couldn’t,” Melissa said.
“How’s Tommy?” Paula asked.
“They’re checking him out now. He’s gone through hell,” John said.
“I’m glad you’re both back. When you disappeared from the ice plant, I thought you—you had me worried.”
“You and me both. How did you find me?”
“Like you figured. Winnow only had so many places he could hide. I went back to the live camera feeds. I caught Winnow digging something up in the barn, and then just a few minutes later, he was with you on the wine-cave camera. They had to be in the same place—at the Layton farm.”
The curtain from around Tommy’s bed split open, and a doctor joined them.
“Mr. and Mrs. Penley, I’m Dr. Philips, the emergency attending—”
“How is he?” John asked.
“Tommy is in serious condition. He’s dehydrated, his kidney function is bad, and the surgical incision shows signs of severe infection.”
“Can we see him?”
“Yeah, come with me.”
A groggy Tommy lifted a hand. “Hi, Mom.”
Melissa went to her son and stroked his cheek. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
“I’m not a baby.”
“I know, I know.”
“We’ve started a course of antibiotics for the infection, pumped a couple liters of fluid in him, and we’ll need to get him on dialysis as soon as possible. I’ve notified Dr. Anderson, and he’s arranging for in-room dialysis in light of what happened.”
“But he’s gonna be okay, right?” John asked.
“Your son is in serious condition, Mr. Penley. The next few hours will be critical. If we can beat back the infection, he’s got a chance of pulling through.” The doctor looked at John’s lacerated scalp. “We need to get this taken care of too.”
“Thanks, Doc,” John said.
“We’ll get him moved out of the ER and into a private room as soon as one opens up. Mrs. Penley, get some rest. He’s going to need you for the long haul. Meanwhile, Mr. Penley, you come with me, and I’ll get a couple of sutures in that mess.”
With Tommy settled into a room, the activity quieted and left John and Melissa with uncomfortable silence. The common bond between them—their children—pried them apart. They sat on opposite sides of the room, each with the burden of a broken promise. They had failed to keep their children safe. Evidence of their failure lay on the hospital bed. John stood and pulled aside the blinds. First light was a few hours away. John felt as dark as it was outside. Melissa wasn’t the target of his anger, but she was in the room. That kind of anger cuts through silence, and it cuts deep.
“Say what you have to say,” Melissa said.
“What’s left to be said?”
“That is exactly how we got here. You won’t say anything. You don’t tell me what’s going on, and you keep it all bottled up inside until something rotten escapes.”
“I’m only trying to keep you safe.” He rubbed the stubble of the stitches on his scalp.
A knock at the door announced a uniformed officer. The officer extended his hand when John approached. It was Officer Tucker, Stark’s younger partner. He had Kari with him.
“I’m glad to see the boy back.”
“Me too. Thanks for picking up Kari,” John said.
“Detective Newberry said my life depended on it.”
“She has people skills.”
“I’m sorry. If I’d done a better search of that ice plant, this might not have happened. We could have gotten Winnow sooner, and he wouldn’t have been able to take your son.”
John shook the younger officer’s hand. “Winnow was two steps ahead of us the entire time. There was nothing you could have done to change that. We got Tommy back, and that’s what matters most. Winnow’s out of moves now.”
“Winnow got his,” Tucker said.
“He’s in a coma. They don’t know if he’ll regain consciousness.”
Tucker waved at Tommy when he entered the room. “How ya feeling, buddy?”
“Tired.”
“I’m not surprised after what you went through.”
“Thanks again, Tucker,” John said.
Tucker nodded and left the room.
Melissa gave her seat by the bed to Kari and walked over to John.
“This is all my fault. I’m so sorry. I should have trusted you.”
“Trust is a bridge that goes both directions. It doesn’t matter which side gets burnt—it makes the bridge impassable. I should have shared what I’d found with you. I thought I was shielding you from the pain, but all I did was cause more.”
“Is that man still out there?” Tommy asked. The boy’s eyes were puffy and yellowed.
“He’ll never bother you again.”