CHAPTER IV

“What have you done?” Thomas Harding exclaimed, as he opened the door of his car to allow Tony Adams entry. The call he had gotten earlier had given him some idea of what to expect, but this topped what his active imagination had come up with.

“It was an accident,” Tony Adams insisted. “Unfortunately, this type of thing can’t be explained away very easily.”

“I can’t imagine why not,” Thomas Harding retorted in a sarcastic manner. “People get shot by accident quite often.”

“Well, you better hope the stupid bitch doesn’t die or we will both be implicated in her death,” Tony Adams reminded Thomas Harding.

“You think I can’t turn this in without getting burned?” Thomas Harding stated. “I would be doing my civic duty, nothing more.”

“Believe me, Tom,” Tony Adams warned. “If I go down, you are coming with me and so is half of your family. I have enough on all of you to take you with me, and I will.“

Thomas Harding took a quick glance at Tyndal, as Tony Adams settled her onto the back seat of his car and swore quietly under his breath. She was still bleeding, albeit not much, which meant if the police were to get involved, his part of this would become very serious. They would have a ready connection between him and her corpse with signs of her blood in his car. He was willing to wager Tony Adams would find a way to come out of this clean as a whistle. There would be no signs of this woman’s blood in or on anything he owned.

Thomas Harding didn’t look too closely at Tyndal, or he might have panicked on the spot. Her complexion had a greyish-white tinge to it, and her breathing was shallow. She needed blood, and she was in danger of dying from lack of care. If anything happened to her, Tony wouldn’t care, although he might be angry for whatever reason that he had gone through all he had and still ended up with her in this condition. He got into his car and drove to his home, where he figured he might as well put her in one of his spare rooms. There was no one living in the house but him, so it was safe enough.

“How much do you know about her?” Thomas Harding asked.

“As little as possible,” Tony Adams admitted. “The idea was to scare her into giving me the information I wanted. I didn’t think the gun would go off. In fact, I thought the safety was still on,” he lied.

“Right,” Thomas Harding muttered to himself, “And I am the Easter Bunny.” The moment he got a chance, he was going to find out all he could about this woman. Then he would think about what kind of action to take.

Thomas Harding drove as fast as he felt he dared without catching the attention of the police, something Tony Adams wasn’t too happy about. The man sounded scared, and he figured this was probably with good reason. It took him forty-five minutes to get to his home, park his car in the attached garage, and then help Tony get Tyndal into the house. By the time she was set onto a surface to be examined, he was beginning to worry too. She hadn’t spoken, not even to give a whimper of distress. He was afraid she was in a coma because she wasn’t reacting to the pain she had to be feeling. She needed to be in a hospital where there was the proper equipment and people to care for her, not in his guest room.

As Thomas Harding saw to Tyndal, Tony Adams returned to the car to get her backpack. He wanted to check out the contents closer, to see what else he could find out about her, beyond what he already knew. Brad had seemed to be thorough, but even he must have missed something for her to be so close to those he had wanted a location for. What made her so different that they would allow her close to where they disappeared? What did she know? He needed to find out.

Tony Adams dumped Tyndal’s belongings onto the kitchen table and began to rummage through them. She hadn’t brought any more than three changes of clothing, her phone and her wallet. Nothing told him any more than he already knew. Her phone was shut off and locked with a password, which he knew she hadn’t had time to do anything with before he had shot her. This meant the device was worthless to him. Her wallet held approximately five hundred dollars, a couple of credit cards, and a ticket with proper identification. He tossed everything back into the bag and tossed it aside as Thomas Harding came into the room.

“What have you found?” Tony Adams wanted to know.

“She is in severe shock, dehydrated, beginning to show signs of infection and needs blood badly,” Thomas Harding stated angrily. “What were you thinking of to bring her from wherever you were without getting some help for her first?”

“I figured you could handle the problem,” Tony Adams replied.

“You are an idiot. Now, I need to go out and get some supplies. Can I trust you alone with her?” Thomas Harding asked. “I hope I can get enough blood from her to get a type with.”

“Right here,” Tony Adams stated, as he tossed Tyndal’s wallet at him. “She is a constant donor and her blood type is on a card inside.”

Thomas Harding checked on the information, even as he shook his head in disgust. It wasn’t going to be easy to get some of the supplies he needed, but he would manage somehow. The most difficult would be the blood, the rest he could pullout of the hospital supplies. It all depended on who was in charge.

After an hour of pulling favors, Thomas Harding returned home with everything he needed and prayed with all he was worth that his patient was still alive. He then spent the next half of an hour stitching her up and pumping blood and fluids into her.

The moment Tyndal seemed to be stable, Thomas Harding walked into the outside room where Tony Adams was sitting, playing a game of solitaire. The moment Adams stood up, Thomas clenched his fist and punched him in the face.

“What was that for?” Tony Adams complained, as he covered his bloody nose with his hands.

“For putting her and me in a position like this. You realize you almost killed her?” Thomas Harding yelled loudly enough so that if they had lived a little closer his neighbors would have heard him.

“You think I give a damn if she lives?” Tony Adams could barely make himself understood speaking through his injured nose. “All I want is the information she is hiding, then she can drop dead as far as I am concerned.”

“Which you will probably help her do,” Thomas Harding accused Tony Adams prematurely.

“Why do you care?” Tony Adams question sounded muffled. “She is going to die anyway.” He then realized he had confessed to what could be considered premeditated murder and added, “We all do sooner or later. It is a fact of life.”

“Don’t hand me that bullshit,” Thomas Harding replied, as he figured out what was going on. “This woman must have something very bad on you for you to take things this far. Or she has knowledge about something you want badly enough to kill for. Which is it, Anthony? You might as well tell me, because we both know that when this is over, you intend to kill us both. It is the way you operate. When the rest of the world hears about it, the report will read that it was the result of a lovers quarrel or something equally tacky. Am I right?”

“I don’t know what I am going to do,” Tony Adams admitted, but he figured Thomas Harding was probably right about what had to happen in the end. Even if he disappeared, he was going to need to make sure he covered his trail well after this.