When Carter awoke she was relieved and a little surprised to find herself still in the hospital bed, Doctor Gilford and General Hammond's earlier assurances notwithstanding. She glanced at the bedside clock and started a little. Had she really been asleep for over three hours?
Hell, she shouldn't have gone to sleep. There were still too many variables to take into account. She didn't know what Makepeace's status was. She didn't know when Hammond would arrive with reinforcements. Damn it, she didn't know anything at all, she thought foully.
Now that she could think clearly again, it occurred to her that the treatment she had received had been quite unusual. Privileged, even. Doctor Gilford had pulled off an unusual coup. The police hadn't been allowed to question her, and no one had gotten a single iota of information from her. The hospital had treated her and Makepeace without any kind of signed consent, or proof of ability to pay, or even a home address or next of kin. They'd both been taken care of without question.
That knowledge made Carter nervous.
She wondered about Doctor Gilford. The woman had appeared so conveniently, just when Carter had needed help to avoid the cops' questions. Was Gilford really nothing more than a kindly doctor, or was she one of those "people" General Hammond had said would be mobilized to keep an eye on things?
The aggravating thing was that she didn't dare ask. Suppose Gilford wasn't working for Hammond? Uncomfortable questions could be raised if Carter wasn't careful.
She let out a frustrated sigh. She might not be able to ask about her medical benefactress, but she could at least find out how Makepeace was doing. She pressed the call button for the nurse. While she waited, she heard voices outside. One sounded familiar. She sat up in bed, hardly daring to hope.
The door flew open, and there was none other than General Hammond, bigger than life and decked out in an expensive Western-style business suit the likes of which Carter had only seen on television shows like "Dallas."
"Becky, honey!" he boomed in the broadest Texas accent Carter had ever heard. "Thank Heavens you're all right." In three enormous strides he was at her bedside and enfolding her in a tender embrace. "Give your daddy a hug, Becky."
Gingerly, Carter hugged back. "Daddy?" she said, somewhat bemused.
"That's right, darlin', your daddy's right here to take care of his little girl."
Knowing now what was expected of her, Carter hugged him tighter. "Daddy," she sniffled, willingly falling into the role Hammond had defined for her. "I was so scared."
"Ah, darlin', don't you cry. It's all over. Daddy's gonna take care of everything."
"What about Zach?"
Hammond rubbed her back in a fatherly way. "He's okay, hon. The docs here tell me he got out of surgery a little while ago. Jan's with him in Recovery now."
Jan? Did he mean Janet Fraiser? Had she been dragged into this, too? Carter didn't dare ask aloud. Instead, she snuggled deeper into her "father's" embrace. "Thank goodness."
"It'll be all right," Hammond said comfortingly. "We'll be going home soon. Everything's fine now."
Carter looked beyond Hammond's shoulder and saw two dark-suited men standing on either side of the open door. She didn't recognize either of them. "Bodyguards?" she asked.
"Can't take any chances with my baby girl, now, can I? Don't you worry your pretty little head, honey. The FBI's here, too. Between us, we've got people all over the hospital."
Carter's eyes widened. He couldn't mean the real FBI, could he? No, that would be too risky. It had to be some act to fool the local police. "Thank you, Daddy," she murmured, finally pulling out of his arms. The role of spoiled little daddy's girl was getting a bit hard for her to maintain with a straight face.
As Hammond settled himself into a chair, two voices drifted in from the hallway. "Well, Doctor Moore would rather you didn't move him so soon, but we all certainly understand the need for security in this case. I assure you, Doctor Forrest, you'll have our full cooperation."
"Thank you, Doctor Gilford, I knew you'd understand." That was Fraiser's crisp voice. "The extra security is quite important. Also, it's been a horrible trauma for them both, and I'd like to get them into comfortable, familiar surroundings as quickly as possible."
"Of course."
The two doctors stepped into Carter's room. Fraiser dropped a small bag by the door and waited patiently. Doctor Gilford smiled and said, "Ah, a happy reunion, I see."
"It's just perfect, Doctor." Hammond stood courteously and grinned at her. "I was afraid I'd nevah see my li'l girl again." He was laying the urban cowboy accent on pretty thick.
"Well, she's safe and sound, now."
"That she is." Hammond beamed at Carter, then turned to Doctor Fraiser. "How's it going with Zach, Doctor Forrest?"
Carter started a little at the general's sudden formality of address. Up until now he had, rather amusingly, been referring to Fraiser as "Jan." She realized this must be another cue for her; Hammond was taking a small risk to let her know Fraiser's assumed identity. Of course. Sam Carter might not know who "Doctor Jan Forrest" was, but "Becky Abernathy" certainly would.
"My team is prepping him now, Mister Merriman," Fraiser reported. "We should be able to leave within the hour."
"Good, good. The sooner, the better." He shook Gilford's hand solemnly. "I can't thank you people enough. I'm sure there must be something I can do for you. How 'bout a nice donation for your fine hospital here, in my Becky's name, of course."
"That's really not necessary, Mister Merriman," Gilford protested, but Carter thought it was only for form. Small hospitals usually needed all the help they could get.
"Oh, it'll be my pleasure."
"Then thank you, very much."
"Jan," Hammond said to Fraiser, "why don't you help Becky here get ready to go?" He gestured to the two guards and added to Carter, "Dave and Mitch will be just outside the door, hon. No need to worry."
"Thank you, Daddy," Carter said meekly, fighting laughter at his solicitousness.
Hammond, Gilford, and the two guards left the small room. Carter looked at Fraiser and raised her brows. "Jan?"
Fraiser retrieved the bag and plunked it onto Carter's bed. "Your father's been worried sick, Mrs. Abernathy. We all were."
Carter took that response to mean she should stay in character and save the questions for later. Jeeze, this was worse than any prime time soap. Fraiser was being the perfect "Dallas" family doctor, referring to her "employer's" daughter so formally. Carter decided to take her cue from Hammond's over-the-top behavior and resolved to treat Fraiser just as casually as the general had. Playing a stuck-up daddy's girl had its perks. "It was awful, Jan," Carter sniveled. "I thought those horrible men were going to kill us."
Fraiser gave her an evil look, but continued to play her own role to the hilt. "Well, it's all over now. Don't you worry about a thing. Your father's got it all under control." The doctor dug into the bag and pulled out a designer jogging suit. "Here you go, Mrs. Abernathy. I figured this would be more comfortable for you after your ordeal than those tight jeans you like so much."
Carter bit her lip at Fraiser's disapproving tone, so at odds with the way the doctor's eyes were twinkling. "It's perfect, I'm sure," Carter said, putting a tiny cowgirl twang into her inflection.
In a voice choked with repressed laughter, Fraiser said, "Here, let's get you out of those scrubs." While Carter changed her clothes, the doctor fussed at her about how worried her father had been, and how he'd pulled out all the stops to find her and Zach.
Through Fraiser's carefully constructed chatter, Carter was given the pertinent facts of the cover story being employed. It also came straight out of "Dallas," she realized with amusement. Hammond was playing the role of a wealthy Texas oil man—although not wealthy enough to attract national headlines. His daughter and son-in-law—herself and Makepeace—had been kidnapped for ransom while on their way to a friend's ranch, the pretext for the two of them being in Montana. Hammond's people had already taken care of the police and FBI, as well as two local reporters who'd heard about the evening's excitement.
The town of Eddington would no doubt be gossiping about this lurid melodrama for years to come.
There was a knock on the door, then Hammond called, "Y'all decent in there?"
"Your father gets more impatient every day." Fraiser tsked as she opened the door and ushered her charge out of the room and into her "father's" care. A white-garbed man pulled the doctor aside. After a brief conference with him, Fraiser nodded at Hammond and followed the man down the corridor.
"Becky, hon, I know you're still upset, but we need to get going now." Hammond placed a fatherly arm around her shoulders and steered her down the hallway, alternately comforting his "daughter" and chatting amiably with Doctor Gilford the whole time. The two guards flanked them, and were joined by several others as they walked through the hospital.
Just outside, the group caught up with Fraiser. She supervised as Makepeace was loaded into a private ambulance, then climbed in after him. She was joined by two of her team, both white-uniformed men who looked more like they should be carrying M16s than stethoscopes and tongue depressors.
Hammond led Carter to a black limousine, parked to one side of the ambulance. Two more black cars completed the picture, one to the front, and the other behind the limo and ambulance.
One of the guards stood by the limo and opened the door politely. "Ma'am?" he said with a respectful little bob of his head.
I could get used to this royal princess treatment, Carter thought with a tiny smile. After a final farewell to Doctor Gilford, she climbed into the car and settled back against the comfortable seat. A moment later Hammond joined her, and the guard cum doorman sat across from them. Another guard was up front with the driver. The others got into their own designated automobiles.
As the cavalcade got underway, Carter finally allowed herself to believe that the nightmare might really be over.