Author's Note: Thank you to all who have read and/or reviewed. Marbro, yes, Mike put in the call to Roy. Chet and Roy would not share their conversation with me, but I'm sure he did as you hoped. Roy feels really bad about how he behaved with JoAnne. He pleads temporary insanity due to the stress and worry he's been feeling over Megan. I'm pretty sure they'll patch things up. Mike also drives a pickup truck, but Hannah is special. The car is based on my husband's first car, a powder blue '69 Dodge Dart that his parents bought new when he was three years old. Shawna didn't want to try leaving the cabin because she's not much for hiking, especially with a sick kid in tow, and there's only the one road, so she was afraid she'd encounter Eddie on it. She figured she can confront him better if she's not holding onto Megan at the same time. Plus, if something happened to her out in the wilderness, Megan wouldn't have much of a chance — better to stay where her note said they were so they can be found. Thank you also to Piscean6724 and katbybee, beta-readers extraordinaire! Kat contributed immeasurably to this chapter with her idea for Rose's Garden! Kat, I absolutely love how that scene turned out.
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Roy sat stiff and nervous in the backseat of Crockett's unmarked Dodge Charger as the detective turned off of the narrow truck trail. Detective Fritz Meyer, a recent transplant from San Diego, sat in the passenger seat. Meyer was a quiet sort, tall, thin, and balding, with a comforting way about him that Roy appreciated. A prowl car rumbled along behind them, backup for whatever they might find. The Charger wasn't the best car for this road, which accounted for their slow progress. More than once over the past hour, Roy had thought he could probably walk faster than Crockett was able to drive. But he wasn't about to complain. Crockett had allowed Roy to come only because he had an idea where the cabin mentioned in the note might be. He'd been up here with Johnny before.
The private road they were on belonged to the man who boarded Johnny's horse, Minko, and Johnny was among a few people who had permission to use it any time. Fresh ruts in the grass back at the turn out on Big Tujunga Canyon Road were a sign that someone had skirted around the barricade several times recently. The road forked after a couple of tight curves. The right fork led to Jim Peterson's small horse ranch, and it was possible to drive from there up to the meadow above the ranch, a peaceful place where Johnny loved to camp and fish; to the left, the road was a well-maintained truck trail that wound for miles before dead-ending at a trailhead. Crockett had taken the left fork after Roy explained there was no cabin to the right. Roy had never traveled the entire length of this road, but Johnny had told him there were five or six old, abandoned cabins scattered along the way, set back in the trees. Any of them would make a great hideout. They'd already checked the first two, with no success.
I sure hope the third time's the charm. Roy watched out the window, but he was seeing Jo as he had left her back at Rampart. She'd argued about Roy going without her, but Crockett put his foot down. She'd just stood there, rigid, when Roy hugged her and whispered in her ear. "I'm sorry, but I've gotta go. Please, stay here and… uh… keep prayin'." Roy had given up praying when he was just fifteen and his dad died of a heart attack. Well, maybe he'd prayed a few times in 'Nam, but the horrors he'd seen there had left him pretty sure that if Anyone was there to hear those prayers, He sure the hell wasn't doing anything about them. But if there was Someone to hear, He was bound to listen to Jo.
Every once in a while, though, Roy wished he could pray. If he had Jo's kind of faith, maybe he wouldn't be going out of his mind with worry right now. Not that Jo never got scared or worried or angry — Roy rubbed his cheek, thinking about how she'd slapped him just a few hours ago. But she could close her eyes and say a prayer and somehow in the midst of all the chaos and tragedy, find a measure of peace. It baffled Roy. If he were completely honest, he would have to say he was even a little jealous. OK, God. Show me what You got. Let this be the place and I promise I'll start goin' to church with Jo, at least on the Sunday's I'm off. Jo would have frowned at that prayer. She was forever telling Chris he shouldn't bargain with God.
The winding, bumpy drive led to a small cabin. Crockett stopped when the cabin came into view through the trees, about thirty yards ahead. Roy hoped no one inside the small structure could see their car. He could see two vehicles parked in front of the cabin — one a battered old VW bus that looked like it had seen better days; the other was covered with a tarp so he couldn't tell exactly what it was, but the shape sure made him think of Johnny's Land Rover. He shifted uneasily in his seat, hope stirring in his heart, though he was not quite ready to admit that maybe God had answered his prayer, even if he had used the barter method. "Could be Johnny's Rover covered up there," he told Crockett, keeping his voice low, even though there really wasn't a reason for it.
Crockett nodded. "Thanks, Roy. Meyer, you and Fedderle take the front; Jefferson and I will go round back and see what we find there." Crockett reached for the door handle, but turned to Roy first. "Stay here."
Roy winced, suddenly understanding why Jo got so mad when he spoke those words to her back at 51's. He didn't have long to ponder it though. Just as Meyer opened his door, they heard the crack of a gunshot. Crockett grabbed the two-way radio and held it to his mouth. "This is Lt. Ron Crockett. I'm about three miles west of the Peterson Horse Ranch above Sunland-Jurupa, investigating the DeSoto kidnapping. We have a shot fired. We're going in." With a nod to Meyer, he jumped out of the car. Roy knew that they could communicate with just a glance, same as he and Johnny did. Using trees for cover, the detectives and their backup moved methodically toward the cabin. Approaching from the sides as they did, Roy figured they were trying to avoid being seen through the front window. Their pace seemed excruciatingly slow, like someone was running a filmstrip at half speed. Then there was a second gunshot. Crockett, Meyer, and the two officers stopped where they were, holding completely still for a moment that seemed to stretch into years. Without a second thought, Roy reached for the medical kit he'd brought with him, just in case. Crockett had told him to stay, but his own kid's life was at stake, his 'Princess Meggy Moo.' He had to go in, in case she needed immediate care. Keep prayin', Jo. He opened his door, jumped out, and ran for the door of the cabin, taking the same serpentine route the police had taken before him.
Meyer and Fedderle were pressed up against the cabin on either side of the doorframe, their weapons at the ready, when Roy climbed up the steps. "Police!" Meyer shouted. "We're coming in! Put your weapons down."
By this time, Crockett had come all the way around and he followed Roy onto the porch. He kept quiet, but his glare spoke volumes. He gently but firmly pushed Roy away from the door and held up a hand. "Stay here," he mouthed. Roy reluctantly obeyed.
Meyer forced the door open, and the detectives and officers disappeared into the cabin. Roy waited outside, arms crossed, pacing back and forth. A moment later, Crockett finally called, "Roy, get in here! We need you."
Roy stepped across the threshold and took a quick glance around. In one corner of the front room was an old army cot with a pile of blankets on the floor next to it. The cot appeared to be bolted to the floor, and there was a set of shackles chained to it. What the hell?! On top of the blankets, Roy spotted Megan's little Winnie the Pooh backpack. His heart caught in his throat. His little girl was here… or she had been. "Megan?" he called as he turned about, looking for her. He stopped when he saw Meyer kneeling beside a man with long red hair, who lay motionless and pale on the floor at the back of the room. Hefting his bag, he moved in that direction.
Meyer waved him off. "Eddie Guinness. He's gone. GSW, center mass. Victim in the back room needs you." Roy's stomach churned, but Meyer shook his head. "Not your daughter. An adult female. Looks like he bashed her head into that door."
About two-thirds of the way up the door, something had crashed into the plywood, leaving a hole. Roy stepped over the man's body — that was a death he would not waste time regretting — and entered the bedroom. There he found a young woman, face down and very still, though he could see her back slightly rise and fall with her rough breathing. Her platinum blonde hair was stained red with blood. She lay with one arm stretched out toward a closet door, like she was trying to tell him something. Crockett must have noticed the message too because Roy heard him inside the closet, rummaging through it.
I guess this must be Shawna. Roy swallowed hard. His father-heart just wanted to find Megan, gather her up in his arms to take back to Jo, and leave the rest to someone else. But this woman was hurt. As far as Roy knew, she had been trying to help Megan, and even if she wasn't, he couldn't just walk away from someone who needed him. The whole scene made Roy sick to his stomach. He was pretty sure from the look of things that it was her head that made the hole in the door.
A moment later, Meyer appeared at his side. "How can I help?"
"I've gotta get a c-collar on her — get it outta my kit there." He nodded in the direction of his pack, thankful he kept a couple of the collars in the emergency kit he kept in his car.
Meyer searched through it for a minute, then held up the cervical collar. "This?"
"Yeah." Meyer tossed it over and Roy caught it. Once he'd applied it, he enlisted Meyer, Ledderle, and Jefferson to help him logroll her. "Great, thanks," he told them. While Meyer released the two officers to start cataloging evidence throughout the cabin, Roy took Shawna's vitals and examined her carefully. From the bruising and swelling that was beginning to appear around her neck, and the petechiae sprinkled across her face, he had a feeling Eddie Guiness had attempted to strangle her. What worried him most was, she wasn't starting to come around yet. She was moving air, even if her breathing was a bit ragged — she should have started to revive. Maybe her head injury was keeping her unconscious.
"Meyer," he called, "let Dispatch know we need a chopper for her ASAP. They can land in Peterson's high meadow and hike down here faster than trying to drive up. I'm pretty sure it's not more'n half a mile. Other than that, just find my little girl. I've gotta stay where I am. I don't have a full kit here, and she needs help fast. I've gotta talk to Rampart, and I… I need…" Roy forced himself to slow down and take deep, even breaths. He couldn't risk passing out from hyperventilating. I need Johnny here. I need Megan safe. I need to do my job. But all he said was, "I want to get her on oxygen, but I don't have any."
"Roy, I've got Megan!" Crockett shouted while Roy was checking Shawna's vitals again. "She's OK!" A moment later, the detective emerged from the closet, cradling the little girl in his arms. "She was sleeping in a crawl space, safe and sound. She's running a fever and she's dirty, but she doesn't appear to be injured."
Relief washed over Roy. He rubbed a sleeve over his eyes and tried to focus on his patient, but tears blurred his vision. He looked to Crockett. "Trade places with me? I've done everything I can for Shawna… can you sit with her? Let me know if she starts havin' more trouble breathin'."
Crockett nodded. "No problem. Take care of your girl."
Roy scrambled to his feet and pulled Megan into his arms. She was burning up and needed a bath and a change of clothes, but all that mattered was, she was alive and safe and back with him. "Daddy's gotcha, honey," he soothed. "You're gonna be just fine."
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Joe Early breathed out a sigh of relief as he took the last stitch. "There we go. Now the rest is up to John Gage."
"If I know Johnny," Dixie replied, "he'll surprise us all."
With a quiet chuckle, Joe agreed. "He usually does. I'd better go talk with Hank, and Roy if he's here. Why don't you escort our friend up to Recovery and stick close to him, Dix? He'll benefit from seeing a friendly face when he wakes up."
"Sure thing, Joe." Dixie smiled down at their patient. Joe knew that Johnny had been one of her favorites from the beginning. One of his too, The earnest, enthusiastic young man had proved a real asset to the paramedic program, but more than that, Joe felt he had become a good friend.
While Dixie took charge of moving Johnny to Recovery, Joe peeled off his gloves and surgical gown, then headed out of the OR to the waiting room, where it seemed the crowd of off-duty firemen waiting for news had grown exponentially.
Joe searched the room for Johnny's captain. After a moment, he spotted him in a corner with JoAnne DeSoto, Mike Stoker, Marco Lopez, and Chet Kelly, and he headed in that direction. Johnny's station mates all looked up at his arrival. "He's stable and he's in recovery. We got the bullet out. It was a pretty straightforward operation. Textbook, even. Now it's a waiting game. Once the swelling around his spinal cord has gone down, we'll have a better idea of his prognosis."
Captain Stanley rubbed at the bridge of his nose. He still looked worried. "What about the rest, Doc? Did they really drug him? And what about his mouth and throat?"
"His stomach too. It'll be a while before he can handle anything more than a soft, bland diet. As for drugs, yes, he was injected with a mixture of sedatives and stimulants, but they're working their way out of his system. He might feel pretty nasty while he's coming off them, but we'll keep a close eye on him. I think he'll be all right as far as that goes."
"But will he be able to walk, Doc?" Chet Kelly asked.
"I'm sorry, Chet. I can't say. If the bullet had actually torn through the spinal cord, the answer would be no. Johnny would certainly be paralyzed from the waist down. But it didn't do that. It fractured the spinal column and as far as we can tell now, bruised the cord. That means he has a good chance of recovering full function. We should know more in a week or so."
Chet nodded mutely, then shambled off toward the vending machines, leaving a seat free next to JoAnne, who had pulled her knitting needles out of the blanket she was knitting and was unraveling several rows. Joe sat, angling his body slightly so he was looking at Roy's wife. "JoAnne, how are you doing? Has there been any word?"
She looked up at him, tears in her eyes, and shook her head. "Nothing yet." Her eyes went back to her knitting. "I've redone this five or six times already… I just can't seem to get it right."
Feeling suddenly fatherly, Joe put an arm around the young woman's shoulders. He had enjoyed getting to know her and Roy over the last several years. He knew the DeSotos had hit a rough patch over the last week — not surprising considering the circumstances — but he'd seen more than once how Roy looked at JoAnne when she wasn't looking. He pulled a clean linen handkerchief out of his pocket and offered it to her. She accepted it and used it to dab at her tears. "JoAnne, you're going to get through this. You and Roy, together. You've got your 51's family and your Rampart family all gathering around you, ready to help any way we can."
She sniffed and nodded. "I know, Doctor. Thank you." She offered him back his handkerchief.
"Keep it," he said, a slight smile tugging at his lips as he stood. "I have a whole drawerful at home."
He was walking towards the elevator when Officer Vince Howard came into the waiting room, making a beeline for JoAnne. Joe turned and followed the policeman back, curious, but also concerned.
"Mrs. DeSoto," the officer said, "I just got word. Your daughter has been found. She's safe and with your husband, and they'll be on the way here soon." JoAnne dropped her knitting altogether, then leaned forward, her hands over her face, and sobbed.
With a glance and a nod from Hank, Joe maneuvered through the crowd and put a hand on her back. "JoAnne, why don't you come with me to the nurses' lounge. Roy can find you there when he gets back."
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JoAnne had barely gotten settled on the sofa in the lounge when a voice over the intercom summoned Dr. Early to the nurse's station. She thanked him, then watched as he hurried away. Hank Stanley had followed them in, and he hovered at the door now. "I'm fine, Hank," Jo assured him. "I'd just like to be alone for a bit. You can go back and wait with the guys till you can see Johnny." Her cheeks warmed a bit at the thought of the spectacle she'd made. This pregnancy had been harder on her than the first two. More morning sickness, more exhaustion, more anxiety, and definitely more hormonal mood swings. The news that Megan had been found should have brought smiles, not tears, but suddenly all those emotions she had been working so hard to hold back had burst the dam and flooded out in spite of her. She was still a bit shaky, but at least the flow of tears had stopped.
"Are you sure, JoAnne? I mean… I'd be glad to sit with you. Make you a cup of tea if you want it."
She shook her head. "Really, Hank. I'm sure. I'm sorry about making such a fuss out there."
Hank stepped toward her and pulled over a chair to sit facing her. "You listen to me, JoAnne DeSoto. You don't have anything to apologize for. You've been working so hard on not breaking down, and all those emotions… well… they're bound to come out one way or another, and, well… it's better to let them out in tears than to end up with an ulcer or worse."
JoAnne twisted Dr. Early's handkerchief in her hands. "Thank you." She looked around the small lounge. It was a comfortable place, but she felt like the walls were closing in on her. A surge of nervous energy propelled her to her feet. She wanted to be outside right now, breathing fresh air. "I'll tell you what you could do, Hank. I need to get some fresh air. I've heard there's a lovely courtyard garden near the chapel. Let Roy know he can find me there, please?"
"Sure, I can do that," Hank said.
"Thank you." Jo stood up, gave Hank a quick hug, and then hurried out the door, taking a left and heading down the long corridor toward the hospital chapel. Passing by the chapel doors, she turned at the end of the hallway and came to a door with a sign over it reading, "Rose's Garden." She pushed the door open and entered to find the late summer air laden with the fragrance of roses. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, letting the sweet scent fill her senses.
When she opened her eyes again, she turned in a slow circle, just taking everything in. She almost missed the small, unobtrusive plaque, on the wall close to the door, but she caught it out of the corner of her eye and moved closer to read the words engraved on it: For my beloved Rose. Until we're together again. Your Joe. Simple, but beautiful.
Jo followed the garden path, meandering among the roses and the lavender. The path brought her to the very center of the garden, where a few park benches were arrayed around a large rosebush cascading with yellow roses in full bloom. There, sitting on a bench, a single yellow rose in his hand, sat Joe Early.
"This seat taken?" JoAnne asked tentatively as she approached. He shook his head and scooted over a bit to make more room for her, and she sat down next to him. After a silent moment, she put a hand on the doctor's arm. "You're Rose's Joe, aren't you?" she asked. She had never heard Joe Early mention a lost love, but more than once, she'd thought she glimpsed a loneliness in his eyes.
He squeezed her hand and nodded. "Sometimes I come here and talk to her, especially when I lose a patient."
Jo caught in her breath. "Not Johnny?"
"No. A ten-year-old boy. Brain tumor. Just got the news at the nurse's station after I left you in the lounge." He sighed. "Yellow roses were her favorite. I always wanted to get her red or pink… something that spoke of the passion and fire of love. But Rose loved yellow most. She said friendship ran deeper and lasted longer than passion. We were friends long before we fell in love. That friendship brought us through trials that probably would have killed passion by itself."
"Like Roy and me." JoAnne smiled at the memory of the day she first walked into Mrs. Waite's fourth-grade class and was assigned the seat next to Roy DeSoto. Within the week, he had become her best friend and her protector. Over the years, love grew naturally out of a friendship that had deepened with each passing year. Who am I kidding? I loved Roy the first time I laid eyes on him, even if I didn't tell him till tenth grade. But maybe that wouldn't have lasted if I hadn't let the friendship grow first. Things had been tough when he came home from Vietnam, but she had never given up on their friendship or their love. She never would.
Joe handed her the rose. "Someday, JoAnne, I'll tell you more of the story. Right now… well… I guess I'm not ready yet. Besides, I'd better get to Emergency before Dr. Brackett sends out a search party." He patted her on the shoulder. "Enjoy the garden. I'm sure Rose is glad you're here." With that, he got up and moved toward the door.
JoAnne remained on the bench, content to soak in the peace and the beauty of the place for a little while. "Thank you, God," she breathed out, blinking back tears. It was finally sinking in that her baby girl really was coming back to her. She knew there were still struggles to face, and she and Roy needed to figure things out between them, but they had survived the worst of the nightmare and they were going to be OK. She loved him, and she always would.
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"Jo?" Roy stepped through the door into Rose's Garden. He couldn't see his wife right away through the maze of rose bushes, some as tall as he was, but he followed the neatly groomed dirt path, hopeful it would lead him to her. Cap had told him that she had come here, a part of the hospital he'd never visited before, to get some fresh air. "Jo, are you out here?"
"Roy?" She came barreling suddenly around a hedge, right into his arms. "Roy, where is she? Is she really OK?"
He pulled her into an embrace and kissed the top of her head. "She's with Doc Brackett and Dixie," he said. "They're checkin' her over and gettin' her cleaned up. Let's go back to the waiting room so we're ready when they call us."
With a brisk nod, Jo slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and together they walked out of the garden.
Thirty minutes later, they were sitting in Kelly Brackett's office, their hands clasped. Jo sat forward in her seat, clearly nervous about what Brackett would tell them. Roy couldn't blame her — he was nervous too.
The doctor smiled warmly at them. "JoAnne, Roy… I want to assure you that, other than an ear infection, your daughter is in good shape physically. We've done a thorough examination and run all the necessary tests, and I can tell you that someone took pains to protect her."
Roy felt the tension melt away, not only from himself, but from Jo. They hadn't talked about it, but both of them had been afraid of what might have been done to their little girl. "Johnny wouldn't have let anyone hurt her."
Brackett shook his head. "Johnny was in no shape to protect her. Oh, I'm sure he did what he could — probably that's why he cooperated to the lengths he did. But the drugs they were shooting into him would have kept him thoroughly confused and incapable of acting on his own volition. My guess is, the young woman you brought in kept the worst from happening to Megan."
Roy nodded slowly. "Was Megan drugged too?"
"She was." Brackett opened a file on his desk and glanced at it briefly. "The bloodwork shows it was not to the same extent Johnny was. She was kept sedated — my guess is to keep her quiet. We'll keep her here while the drugs work their way out of her system. Now, I do suggest some sessions with a child psychologist to help her through the emotional trauma, but on the whole, I believe your daughter is going to be just fine."
The phone on Brackett's desk rang, and he picked up the receiver. "Kelly Brackett." He listened for a moment, then nodded. "Thanks, Dix. We'll be right up." After hanging up, he looked at Jo and Roy. "All right, Megan is settled in the pediatric unit, room 217. We've given her a room to herself, and one of you can take the second bed. Let's go see how she's doing."
When they got to Megan's room, Roy wanted to pick her up and hold her close. He'd been hard-pressed to let the other paramedics who responded to the cabin take her from him and put her in the Stokes for the hike up to the meadow, but at least he'd gotten to hold her for a while. Jo needed that time too, and Roy intended to give it to her. So he let his wife surge past him to sit on Megan's bed and pull the little girl into her arms.
"Mama, Mama," Megan whimpered drowsily, and she snuggled up against her mother's chest.
"Careful of the IV, Jo," Roy said softly.
"I know." JoAnne held their daughter close and kissed her head and began singing her favorite lullaby. Roy just watched, entranced. He'd never seen anything more beautiful.