[8]
The commotion woke her. For a moment, she was in full-blown panic, then felt the leather under her fingertips and paused, her heart slowing slightly. If she were still in the cave in the woods, she’d not be sleeping on leather.
Slowly her mind started working again. She felt her face and realized her fever had broken. A sheen of sweat covered her and she decided she simply wanted a shower. Then she tuned in to the noise. She sat up to find law enforcement officers everywhere. One spotted her and nudged the guy next to him. He left the room and she figured he was alerting someone to the fact that she was awake.
Her left arm was wrapped snug against her chest and her shoulder ached only a little. Aggravating, but not the blinding pain she’d had.
When she moved, something tugged at her thigh and she looked down to find the leg of her sweatpants cut away. A white bandage wrapped around her leg. She briefly mourned the loss of the jogging pants, as they’d been her favorite. Then again, she probably wouldn’t have been able to wear them again without being reminded of the ordeal. With her good arm, she reached behind her and felt a bandage covering the wound on her lower back.
And finally it hit her. She was safe and she’d been medically attended to. She stood, her legs shaking. And then Quinn was at her side, one hand under her elbow, the other encased in a white bandage. Before she could ask what happened, he was pushing her back toward the sofa. “You need to sit back down.”
“Actually, I need a bathroom.”
“Ah.” He stopped pushing and started tugging. Gently. He led her down the long hallway. “You’re in luck. That was the first room I had them process for evidence so you can use it.”
“So,” she said. “They found us. We’re actually still alive.”
“They did and we are.”
“How?”
“I discovered a satellite phone in the lunatic’s office and got ahold of Bree. She’s here somewhere. So are the Monroe County Sheriff’s Office and the FBI.”
“FBI?”
“It was a kidnapping, Maddy. Interstate. We’re in Florida. Off the coast of Key West to be exact.”
“Florida. Yeah, that makes sense. The island was very tropical.” She closed her eyes for a moment. Then opened them. She shook her head. “My brain will kick in, in a moment.”
He paused at a door and pointed. “There’s a bathroom through there. It should have everything you need.” When she glanced at his clean-shaven jaw, he rubbed his hand against his chin. “I’ve already raided it. Once the local officers got here and collected all the evidence from it, I slipped in and cleaned up. There’s hot water and everything.”
“So Miami’s FBI Evidence Response Team has jurisdiction because it was an interstate kidnapping, right?”
“Yes, they’ve been called in and are on the way. Bree is going to represent South Carolina law enforcement involvement, so she’ll be in close contact with the sheriff here. His name is Greg Danvers.”
“Okay then. Who does this place belong to?”
“A guy by the name of Keith Hogan. But he’s dead.”
“Oh.”
“While you were catching up on your sleep”—she punched him only a little gently in the stomach and he gave a low grunt—“I was gathering information. This place—the house and the island—is in probate. Hogan’s wife died three years before he did, and now his heirs are battling it out to see who gets what. But before they can settle anything, they have to find a missing sibling who’s been doing mission work in Africa for the last couple of years. No one’s heard from her since before her father’s death.”
“She didn’t come to the funeral?”
“Apparently not.”
“So, the house has been sitting empty.”
“That’s what the family claims.”
She looked around. “Doesn’t feel like it’s been empty very long.”
“No. It’s pretty obvious our attacker has been living here.”
Her eyes went to his bandaged forearm where Watson had gotten ahold of him. “Who took care of us?”
“Bree flew a doctor in, along with a SWAT team I requested. They’re covering the island as we speak. They didn’t want to go with my assumption that he was long gone. Anyway, the doc checked you out, bandaged you up, and even gave you a shot of antibiotics. You took it like a champ. Never even flinched.”
She rolled her eyes, then pressed a hand to the shoulder that hadn’t been hurt in her fall. “So that’s why this shoulder hurts now?”
“How long have I been out?”
He shrugged. “About four hours.”
“Right. Okay.” She touched his smooth face. “You look awful. I’m guessing you didn’t have the benefit of passing out?”
“That bad, huh?” He huffed a humorless laugh and gripped her fingers in a squeeze. “I can always count on you to keep me humble.” But he hadn’t taken offense. “No, I cleaned up, but I haven’t slept.” He touched her cheek with his free hand. “I will.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
She gave a short nod, still trying to process the fact that they were safe.
He nodded to the bedroom. “Bree brought you a change of clothes too. There’s a small overnight bag with all kinds of things you females think you need.”
“A toothbrush?”
“Yep.”
She let out a small sigh. “Bless her.”
“Go. You’re safe. You’re fine. We both are. Even Watson’s going to make it.”
“You’re going to keep him, you know.”
He shook his head, then gave a slight smile. “Yes, it certainly looks that way.”
“I figured when you named him Watson, you would. What about the golden retriever? Have you seen him?”
“No, he hasn’t shown up.”
“You think the guy who did this took him with him?”
“Probably. He’s evidence, especially if he’s chipped.”
“Watson,” she said. “We’ll need to check him.”
“We will.”
“All right. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” She stepped inside the room and started to shut the door behind her.
He stopped her and gestured to the sling holding her injured arm. “You can take that off to shower. It’s got Velcro. I can help you get it back on when you’re ready.”
“Thanks.”
Once she was alone, Maddy started toward the bathroom, then stopped and leaned against the wall. Slowly, she slid down it until she sat on the hardwood floor. Then she lowered her head and didn’t try to stop the tears.
Seconds after the storm started, she felt hands on her shoulders and stiffened. She looked up to find Quinn staring down at her. She bowed her head again. “Go . . . away.”
He slid down beside her. “Not a chance.” His strong arms pulled her close and he pressed his lips to her head. “I’ve already had my meltdown. I figured you were due, so I waited.”
He was absolutely right. She was definitely due. She cried into his chest and soaked his shirt. Finally, she caught her breath and stilled. Then sniffed and wiped her nose with her sleeve.
“You’re never going to wear that shirt again, are you?” His breath whispered across her ear.
She hiccuped and sniffed again. “How’d you know?”
“You wiped your nose with it. You’d never do that if you intended to wear it again.”
She gave a soft, shaky laugh, pulled the sling off, then let Quinn help her get the long-sleeved shirt over her head. She gave it a toss. “You’re right. I never want to see these clothes again.” In the short-sleeved shirt she still had on, she shivered, but warmth radiated from him and she soaked it up. “What kind?” she murmured against his chest.
“Huh?”
He cleared his throat. “Uh, well, you know. The guy kind.”
She hiccupped a laugh. And remembered another reason she liked him so much. When she didn’t want to smack him silly, she usually found herself laughing at him—and even with him sometimes. “What’s a guy meltdown?”
He sighed. “You’re going to make me tell you, aren’t you?”
“No, I already know.”
“Do not.”
“Do too.”
He reared back to look at her. “What is it then?”
“You punched a wall.”
His brow shot up. “Huh.”
“It’s simply observation. Your hand wasn’t hurt the last I remember.” He held it up and looked at it. “Oh right.” He sighed. “Yes, I punched a wall. Or three.”
“So, did it help?”
He tried to flex his fingers and winced. “Naw. It was a dumb thing to do.”
“But it helped.”
He gave a low chuckle. “I can’t get anything past you, can I? All right. Yes, it helped. It was still dumb, but at least I didn’t break anything and it’s not my gun hand.”
“I think I like crying better. It doesn’t hurt.” She pressed a hand to her aching head. “At least not as much.”
“Nope, crying makes you stuffy. I prefer pain.”
She gave a little laugh, sighed, and started to pull back, then decided she liked where she was better and stayed put. “When have you ever cried, Quinn?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“’Cuz.”
“I . . . don’t remember.”
“Yeah.”
“What about when your sister died?”
He stiffened, then sighed. “I . . . no. No, I didn’t.”
She stilled, but didn’t pull away to look at him. “Why not?” she murmured against his chest.
“I couldn’t.”
“You need to, then.”
“Probably.” He tapped her chin and stared down at her. “I cried when I thought you were going to die.”
“You did? Why?”
“’Cuz,” he mocked her gently. His eyes dropped to her lips and his head started to dip.
She frowned at him even as her heart picked up a beat. “Don’t even think about it.”
He paused and a gleam she’d never seen before entered his eyes. She could see him trying for an innocent face. “Think about what?”
“You know what.” There was no way their first kiss was going to be this moment. As much as she didn’t want to, she pushed away from him and stood. “I need to brush my teeth and take a shower. I’ll see you in a little while.”
A smile played at the corner of his lips, then he turned serious. He stood too and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Want me to help you wash your hair?”
She blinked. “Uh . . . no. I can do it.”
“Or I could help you.” His eyes widened and he flushed. “Do it in the sink, I mean. I wasn’t suggesting—”
She placed a finger on his lips. “I know, Quinn. But I’ll manage. Thanks.”
“All right then.” He paused and placed another kiss on the top of her head. “I’m glad you’re all right,” he whispered.
She felt the tears threaten again. “Yeah,” she whispered back. “I am too. I’m glad we’re both still alive.” She glanced at her bandaged thigh and gave him a tight smile. “And I’ve never been so glad to get stitches.”
But she knew the person who’d done this was still out there, and until he was either behind bars or dead, she didn’t think she’d ever be able to live without looking over her shoulder.
Quinn found the doctor who’d patched them up. He was in the office, talking to one of the special agents. They stood next to the couch Maddy had recently vacated.
The doctor was a young guy in his early thirties with a military buzz cut, blue eyes, and a dimple in his left cheek. He’d introduced himself as Joshua Ayers. Quinn had liked him instantly, and when he’d seen how respectful the man had been while treating the unconscious Maddy, his admiration had increased exponentially. Quinn touched the man’s shoulder to get his attention. “Dr. Ayers, are you sure Maddy doesn’t need a hospital?”
“It’s Joshua.” The doctor shook his head. “And no, she’s a little dehydrated, but while her wounds were heading toward infection, the antibiotics should take care of that. There’s no head trauma or internal injuries that I could see. Her shoulder’s going to be sore for a while, but you did a great job getting it back in place. As long as the infection clears up soon, she should be fine.” He tilted his head. “Now, if she starts spiking a fever, then she should see her doctor.”
Quinn nodded. “Okay, thanks.”
“Same with you and your arm.”
“I’ll keep an eye on it.” He lifted a hand, then dropped it. “How did Bree convince you to fly all the way out here at the last minute?”
“Bree’s brother, Jeff, is my best friend. I’ve known Bree since kindergarten.”
“And you dropped everything to come?”
He shrugged. “Bree’s like family. I’d do anything for her.” He flashed a smile. “And she knows I’m a good doctor with an excellent partner who doesn’t mind taking up the slack when I have to run to a friend’s aid.”
“Glad to hear it.” Quinn took in the military haircut, the way the man carried himself, to the slight shadow in his eyes that hadn’t faded since he’d arrived. “So where’d you serve?”
Joshua’s lips flattened. “Afghanistan. Two tours as a medic, then I got out and opened my own practice.”
“Thought so.”
“It’s what God had in mind for me. Not sure I agree with the way his plan played out, but looking back I can see some of his purposes.”
“You believe that?”
Joshua raised a brow. “Sure. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t believe it.”
Quinn gave the man a slight smile. “Okay, good enough. Have you seen Bree?”
“Think she was outside meeting with some of the FBI agents. She doesn’t have jurisdiction here, but that doesn’t seem to matter to her.”
He laughed. “No, it wouldn’t.”
“Sheriff Danvers is here too. I overheard him say that the crime scene unit is on the way. Along with a medical examiner. She was at another site, so they had to wait on her to finish and that took some time.”
“Thanks.” He shook the doctor’s hand and walked out the front door to find Bree. He spotted her talking to a woman with an FBI vest on and a man he assumed was the sheriff.
Bree saw him and waved him over. “Hey, this is Special Agent Lydia Collins with the Miami FBI office. She’s with ERT. This is Sheriff Greg Danvers with the Monroe County Sheriff’s Office. Lydia was telling me that the sheriff here is a graduate of the FBI’s National Academy. Lydia, Sheriff, this is Detective Quinn Holcombe, my partner.”
Quinn shook hands with the sheriff and then the pretty blonde. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her green eyes were sharp and intense. The sheriff’s tight jaw was rock hard, his brown eyes like granite. He had a feeling neither one of them missed a thing. “Glad you’ve got the training you have, Sheriff. I can see why they’d want you on this case. Nice to meet you both.”
“Likewise,” the special agent murmured. The sheriff nodded.
“Did Bree fill you in?” Quinn asked them.
Lydia nodded. “We’ve found the spear pits you told us about. There’s one about every five yards around the perimeter of the island. It’s amazing neither one of you fell into one.”
Quinn felt himself pale. “We came really close to dying.” He knew it, of course. He’d just lived through it, but saying the words out loud was like a punch in the stomach.
“Several times, it sounds like,” Bree said. She reached out and squeezed his nonbandaged hand.
“Yes. Several times,” he said. Quinn shook his head. He’d faced death before, simply due to the nature of his job. But never had he been the object of a deliberate, personal attempt to wipe him out. Even the act that had broken his legs and put him in the hospital and rehab for the past six months hadn’t been targeting him specifically. He’d just gotten in the way. But this . . . this was personal.
“Hey.”
He turned to find Maddy limping toward them. She’d dressed in a pair of khaki knit pants and a pink short-sleeved shirt. She wore matching pink tennis shoes with white ankle socks. Her wet hair was pulled back into her perpetual ponytail. She carried her sling in her hand.
“Hey. What are you doing out here?” he asked.
“I want to be involved in this investigation every step of the way.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I want to catch this guy and I want to do it yesterday.” She shot him a wry look. “If this is your serial killer, it looks like I’m going to be on your task force after all.”
Quinn almost smiled to see the fire back in her. He had to admit he’d been worried she’d survived one terror-filled event only to let this one claim her spirit. He should have known better. Maddy was a fighter. The youngest of ten children, she’d had to be. “How did you manage to wash your hair with one hand?” he asked.
She gave a choked laugh. “You’d be surprised at what I can do when I put my mind to it. I managed.”
Because that’s what she did. Quinn shook his head. “Stubborn.” She bit her lip. He figured it was to keep from sticking her tongue out at him. “This is Special Agent Lydia Collins and Sheriff Greg Danvers.”
Maddy nodded, took a deep breath. “Nice to meet you.”
They exchanged handshakes, then Lydia turned to Quinn. “We found that mass grave you saw.”
Maddy tilted her head. She held her sling out to Quinn. “A little help, please?”
Once she had her arm immobilized once again, he turned to Lydia. “Lead the way.”
Lydia walked to the edge of the woods where they’d found the grave and stopped when she reached the large hole in the ground. “I don’t want to disturb anything until the medical examiner gets here. But I noticed something.”
“There are ten crosses.”
“Yes.”
“But, if you count the skulls, there appear to be only eight bodies.”