He smiled as the moon rose, soaking up the pale light. While others chose to frolic in the bright sunshine, he preferred the night, had since she had left him. Dark sky and quiet streets, windows cracked open to reveal sleeping people, exhausted by the day. Nighttime was his time now, time to come alive, time to work. He lifted himself over the wall, moving carefully to avoid hitting the aluminum foil covering the alarm sensors mounted on the brick. Rustling noises told him he'd been heard, but that didn't bother him; he was prepared. He'd been planning this job for days. His hand was already in his pocket as he dropped to the ground, and, as the dogs came bursting out of the underbrush, he whipped out the aerosol and pressed the button. The dogs scrambled to a stop, pawing at their muzzles and whimpering before dropping to the ground, breathing heavily and out cold.
He smirked, looking at them with cold eyes. They were no better than the man who owned them, expending all their energy running around in the sun and utterly useless come nightfall. He strode away from them, moving fast, silent on rubber soles, but stopped abruptly as the house came into sight and he saw light blazing in the windows. He froze, unwilling to leave but not wanting to risk a confrontation. The aerosol was only good for canines, and he didn't have a weapon apart from a small pocket knife that he usually used to jimmy open latched windows. Faint sounds of music came drifting over to him on the gentle breeze, and he swore viciously.
A party? Not enough that the place was full of staff during the day, but now it was full at night too. A party meant people and light and noise, three things he was always desperate to avoid. Then his head tipped to the side as he considered his options. A party in a place like this probably meant serving staff too. Lots of new faces that no one would expect to recognize. Maybe he could get close enough to pick out some of the more valuable pieces, save himself some time when he returned. Because he already knew that he would be coming back. It was too easy a job, and there was far too much money to be made for him to let one little setback deter him. It was risky, walking in without knowing whom he'd be bumping into, but, as long as he projected the right air of belonging, he was pretty sure he could pull it off.
Decision made, he crept closer to the house, one big, uncurtained window drawing his eye. He could see people milling around, passing in front of the glass, and he stopped to try to do a quick headcount. Two people? That couldn't be right. He moved closer, risking being seen but desperate to know what was going on. He knelt by the side of the nearly floor-length window and used the voices he could hear as a point of reference. Four or five, that still seemed odd. Not enough for a party, certainly not one involving catering or waiters. He risked a quick glance in through the window, stretching his head slowly to the side, peering through and dropping quickly back to his knees.
Four of them, all sitting around a table playing some sort of card game. He'd never cared for gambling, but he guessed they were playing poker. Each had a pile of coins in front of them. Raucous laughter burst out, spilling into the night around him. Figuring the group would be too distracted to notice, he leaned over again, looking longer this time. In front of him was the dark-haired man with the loud taste in shirts. He knew from the days he'd spent reconning the place that this guy was something to do with the security of the house. On either side of him were his friends, the pilot and the nightclub manager. Which meant the blonde with her back to him was the property manager. He frowned at the four of them; he hadn't realized they were all so close, and he wondered what else he might have missed.
"Honestly, boys, when you said cheating was the name of the game, I expected you all to be much better at it."
Her accent made him snarl. Just listening to her talk was enough to tell him that she was stuck-up, that she thought she was better than everyone else. Although if that were true, she wouldn't be playing card games with these guys at one in the morning, would she? It took a phenomenal effort not to groan out loud. Clearly their friendship wasn't the only thing he had missed. This was a nightmare. He couldn't depend on the information he had gathered at all.
Frustration made him punch the ground in front of him, forgetting for the moment to be quiet. His entire body froze as he heard one of the men say, "Did you guys hear that?" He didn't even breathe. Then the voice continued. "Higgy here wants us to believe that she has the third ace." Relief washed over him, and his body sagged. He couldn't stay much longer, the Dobermans were bigger than his usual targets, and he wanted to make sure he was well away before they even started twitching. But he couldn't resist one more look through the window, puzzling over what else he might have overlooked.
He saw the three men throw their cards down, laughter ruining the disgusted looks on their faces. He heard the woman, Higgy apparently, say, "Are you gents certain you've played this game before?" as she pulled the pile of coins from the center of the table to add to the rest of her winnings. "Cheer up," she said, standing. "I'll get you all a beer."
He watched as she walked away, shrinking back in case he was spotted but keeping his eyes on her. He hadn't paid much attention to her, dismissing her as 'not-a-threat,' and he was struck by her slender figure, her easy laughter at the men's continued good-natured grumbling. When she turned back, beers in hand, for just a fraction of a second he thought they locked eyes with one another, and he jerked back as though he'd been burned. His recon was always at a distance and never for longer than three days, so he hadn't been close enough nor interested enough to see her face clearly before. He ran back toward the wall where he had left the dogs, his heart pounding.
It was her. It was Libby. She'd come back to him!
He spent the next day in bed, tossing and turning, filled with a restless energy that had made sleeping impossible. He'd always known Libby hadn't really left him, always known she'd come back to him sooner or later. They were soulmates, she'd always said so, and no power in the universe was strong enough to keep soulmates apart. But why was she living with that idiot P.I.? When did she start drinking beer? Why hadn't she come to him? He had so many questions tumbling around in his mind that his brain started to stutter and dark thoughts started to creep in through his feverish excitement.
Maybe she hadn't bothered trying to find him. Maybe she had decided that the fool was her soulmate now. But that couldn't be right. There must be an explanation. Amnesia, like in the movies. She didn't leave because she wanted to; she left because she didn't remember him. All he needed to do was remind her of who she really was, who he was, and his life could go back to normal. No more skulking around at night, breaking into homes and stealing trinkets. With Libby back in his life, he could face the sun again. They could walk out into the daylight, hand-in-hand, like they had before, and he could rejoin the world. He just needed a chance to help her remember their life together, the life they should still be living.
He scrabbled about on the bedside table for a pen, notebook already on the bed beside him. His hand was practically shaking as he scribbled notes on the page. Everything he remembered about their relationship: how they'd met, the topics they'd discussed, the food she'd liked. Everything went onto the pages to be broken down later. He'd look at everything, every detail, and come up with a plan. He would be methodical and orderly, her memory would come back to her, and she would come back to him.
List complete, page after page filled, he dropped back against his pillow. His hand was aching from the death grip he'd had on the pen, but he didn't care. He knew what he was going to do. His mind quiet, his eyes closed, he drifted off to sleep.
The dead woman in the bathtub didn't intrude upon his dreams at all.
Higgins smiled as her eyes left the laptop screen and landed on the flowers again. They'd been delivered just as she'd finished breakfast, a stunning arrangement of plumeria and light pink roses. The card attached had said only, "For Higgy." She wasn't sure which of her boys had sent them or why, but she didn't really care. They were beautiful, and she'd happily taken them through into her study. Looking away from the flowers left her staring at Zeus and Apollo, still lying where she'd left them as she'd gone to open the door for the florist. They hadn't even lifted their heads as she'd left the room, and she was worried about them.
Turning back to her work, fingers flying over the keyboard, she wondered idly if the flowers were the boys' way of cheering her up, knowing how worried she was about her dogs. She smiled again in spite of her concern. It wasn't all that long ago that she had been nearly totally alone on this island, surrounded by people and yet utterly isolated from them all. She knew exactly how lucky she was to have found a place within this little family, and she reached out to run a gentle fingertip over a soft petal. Kumu had given the bouquet a knowing look and said that plumeria represented love, and Higgins knew that if anyone would know what they were talking about it was Kumu.
'That's it, then,' she decided. 'The boys were trying to make me feel better. And after listening to me moaning about the lads for so long this morning, too.' Rick and T.C. had both ended up in guest rooms the previous night, leaving all three men trapped that morning, listening to her repeated concerns about the dogs. Making up her mind to thank them in a way she was sure they would appreciate, she quickly saved the spreadsheet she had been editing and grabbed her keys and phone.
"Come on, lads," she called, clicking her fingers and watching with a frown as the normally lithe creatures pulled themselves slowly upright, clearly suffering in some way. "I'll drop you both off for your appointment at the vet first, and then I have an errand to run."
He watched through the binoculars as she stood from her desk and left the office, looking down to his laptop to watch the feed from the security cameras as she walked out of the house. His eyes were fixed on her as she helped one of the dogs clamber through the door of her car, and he grinned to himself, happy to see his knockout gas worked as well on larger dogs as it did smaller breeds. He knew from experience how this would play out; the vet would keep the dogs for at least one night and run all kinds of tests before concluding it was probably a viral infection of some kind. Meanwhile the estate would be free of sharp teeth and loud barks.
He watched through the stolen feeds until her car was lost behind the trees and then looked back to the room she had spent the morning in. The flowers he had sent had been given a place of pride on her desk, and oh! how good it felt to see that. Plumeria for love and pale pink roses for desire, the same flowers he had given Libby on their third date. He had watched her carry the bouquet into her office and tracked every time her eyes had wandered away from her work to look at them admiringly. It had to be a sign. She was giving him a sign that she did remember him, that she wanted him back. And she was clearing the dogs off the property for the night. Oh clever little Libby, doing everything she could to make sure he could reach her.
He wondered why she didn't just leave, only to find his thoughts interrupted by the roar of an engine. Of course, it was all the fault of the idiot. He must be keeping Libby trapped somehow. He glared through his laptop screen as the man pulled up to the front of the house, switching back to his binoculars to follow that ridiculous yellow shirt around to the door of man's area of the estate. At least he wasn't forcing Libby to live in the same rooms as he did. But whatever hold he had over her must be strong. Strong enough that she had to resort to signaling for help.
And he would help her. He would do anything for her. And, this time, he was sure it would last.
He packed up his things and carefully slunk away. It was still early, but he needed time to prepare. On the rocks at the bottom of the cliff off to his left was sprawled the body of a young blonde woman, dragged from the bathtub to be tipped over the edge with no more consideration than a piece of garbage. Over the next hour, the tide would come in and the ocean would lift her battered and broken body from the rocks and carry it out to sea. He didn't look back. She had lied to him, pretended to be his Libby, and she wasn't worth thinking about.
Beers and steaks had turned out to be a perfect idea. The boys had been thrilled, even after Higgins had told them the cooking was down to them. They had nominated T.C., reasoning that he had always been an excellent cook in the past and was unlikely to ruin the meat or give anyone food poisoning. And yes, there were stories attached to both those statements. They'd ended up lounging around Magnum's TV with some truly terrible action film serving as a foil for sarcastic comments. Rick had them in fits of laughter with his complaints about improper weapons handling and Higgins had happily backed him up, as well as moaning about the incorrect noises people were making after being shot.
It wasn't until the film had nearly ended, the hero lifting the female lead in his arms, that Magnum asked Higgins what the occasion was.
"I just wanted to thank you all for being so sweet this morning," she replied, not making eye contact with any of them. Expressing emotions was not her strong point and it was still hard not to feel that she was leaving herself too vulnerable. "It can't have been a pleasant start to the morning, having to listen to me whining about the lads." It was said with a huff of self-deprecating laughter, but none of the men laughed.
"Those dogs mean a lot to you," T.C. said, waiting for her to look at him before smiling and saying, "Besides, what else is family for?"
Her answering smile was blinding, but anything she was going to say in response was lost to Rick's proclamation that family was apparently good for beer and food. They all grinned, and the conversation moved on without Higgins getting the chance to mention the flowers.
The gathering broke up early; Rick was needed at the club, T.C. had three full tours booked for the following morning, and Magnum had a meeting with a potential new client first thing.
The house was dark by half past ten; he counted the lights as they went out, but he waited until it was nearly midnight before moving. He crept slowly around to the window of the idiot's bedroom, open to the night air. It was on a latch, but that didn't matter. It didn't need to open any further. He fed the end of the thin pipe through the narrow opening and pressed the button on the attached spray can.
He'd spent all day mixing the gas. It had been highly recommended by more than one of his contacts, and he'd been assured that the very least it would do was keep a full grown adult asleep for several hours. There was a chance the guy could simply stop breathing from too large a dose, but that wasn't any sort of a deterrent. As much as he wanted this moron to suffer when he realized he had lost Libby, part of him would be happy to kill the guy instead, fitting punishment for daring to keep Libby away in the first place.
When the small canister was empty, he let it fall, not caring about leaving evidence of his visit behind. There were no fingerprints on it and so no need to worry about taking it with him. He walked away quickly, headed to the front door of Libby's house. He knew a guy who worked for a locksmith and had access to all the equipment needed to make a copy of a key from nothing more than a photograph of the original. It was costly, but it would be worth it if it worked. The alarm system on the building was extensive and impressive, and he didn't want to run the risk of tripping something in the main lobby, an area he hadn't had the time to study closely.
The key stuck halfway in the lock and took several nerve-wracking seconds of jiggling and shoving before it was finally all the way in. It turned easily though, and he felt a rush of adrenaline. Just a few passageways to walk down, and he would be in Libby's bedroom. He would have her back!
It took longer than he expected to find the right door, but finally, finally! he was standing at her bedside. He stared, drinking in the sight. Her hair was fanned out over the pillow, her skin pale in the moonlight slanting in through a gap in the blinds, her breathing soft and slow. He felt his own breathing pick up as he reached out a hand, trembling from excitement, and ran his hand down her cheek. She shifted, stirred, and opened her eyes.
And all hell broke loose.
A gasp of terror escaped her, and he felt as though he had been punched. His hand, withdrawn when she moved, shot back out, but she was already rolling away, throwing off the blanket and dropping to the floor with the bed between them. He stepped up onto the mattress and jumped, lunging for her, but she was moving too, running along the side of the bed. He landed awkwardly, one foot on the bed and the other in midair, sending him crashing to the floor. He scrambled back to his feet and turned to see her run through the door.
Rage, violent and red hot, flooded through him, and he ran after her with a snarl. She couldn't run away from him, not again, not after last time. His longer legs gave him the advantage, and he caught up with her halfway down the hallway, stretching out and catching her shoulder. He gave a savage tug, and she fell back into him. He wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides.
"Don't run from me!" he hissed in her ear, squeezing his arms together.
She gave a cry of pain and then kicked back. The heel of her foot slammed into his knee, and his grip loosened as he stumbled slightly. Her arms flew up, and she spun and gave a mighty shove that sent him reeling before she turned to run again.
He bent himself forward and grabbed her ankle just as she lifted her foot, bringing her crashing to the floor.
He crawled forward, looming over her and she flipped onto her back, ready to fight. He wrapped his hands around her wrists as her fists flew toward him, then dragged one knee up, planting it in her stomach. Her struggles became more frantic, but he ignored her fear, bending her one arm at a fierce angle in order to press his forearm against her throat.
"You need to remember!" he panted, her choking gasps fueling his anger. "Remember!" he screamed the word at her, pressing harder against her throat.
Using a strength he didn't know she had, she brought her leg up and threw her knee into his groin.
It didn't hurt much, the movement was weak, but the shock made him jerk away from her.
Her body arched as she gasped desperately for breath, and she couldn't stop him from tangling his fingers in her hair, yanking her head up, and slamming it down to the floor.
He couldn't remember taking his knife out of his pocket, but suddenly it was in his hand and the blade was glinting in the dim light. He raised it high above his head, fury pounding through him as he looked down at her, dazed and barely conscious beneath him. "I know you remember me. Why are you lying to me?" he shrieked as he brought the knife down, burying the blade in her stomach.
Her scream echoed off the walls, and her hands fluttered over the handle protruding from her flesh. He pulled himself to his feet, all at once drained and exhausted. Bending down nearly sent him tumbling over, but he took a deep breath and straightened up again, her ankles in his hands. He set out back toward the front door, dragging her behind him.
His arms were shaking from the strain even though she weighed so little, and her struggles, though weak, were enough to nearly make him lose his grip. He looked back over his shoulder in time to see her seize the knife and tear it from her own skin, her grunt of pain and exertion ringing in his ears.
As he stared in shock, she lifted her upper body off the floor and lashed out, whipping the knife in a semicircle and splitting the skin on his wrist.
He screamed in pain, dropping her ankles in favor of cradling his bleeding arm, and she scrambled away from him. He watched her go dumbly, unable to move, unable to fathom what had just happened. An alarm started blaring, snapping him out of his dazed state. There must have been a panic button somewhere.
He peered down the corridor and could see Libby sprawled on the floor. He wasn't sure if she was still conscious or even if she was still breathing, and he didn't care to find out. He hauled himself to his feet and moved to the door as quickly as he could. He would figure out what had gone wrong after; now he just needed to get home.
Katsumoto was proud of his rank. He had worked long and hard to attain his promotion. He had a reputation for being tough but fair, and even his C.I.s showed him respect. So, when he found the person responsible for spreading rumors about him being friends with Thomas Magnum, he was going to make sure no one would ever find their body. He glared at his phone again, the text notification still on the screen.
'Alarm at Robin's Nest. Thought you'd like to know.'
"I'd like to know what I've done to deserve this," he groused to himself, even as he was grabbing his sidearm from its drawer. There was a lot of security at Robin Masters' estate, but most of it was handled by a private security company. Only one system connected to HPD, a panic system that, to the best of his knowledge, had never been activated before. He liked Magnum just fine as long as he wasn't actually anywhere nearby, and he had a lot of respect for Higgins; he'd be lying if he said he wasn't the least bit concerned. He wasn't going to go speeding through the streets, though. He was a quarter of the way through a rare night shift and this was a welcome distraction; that was all.
He'd give the uniforms time to arrive on scene, figure out whatever Magnum had done this time, and show up just in time to send the P.I. off with a flea in his ear for wasting police time. He certainly wasn't going to go blowing through red lights or ignoring stop signs. He wasn't all that worried. He was more concerned with what Higgins might do to Magnum for waking her up when it was past midnight.
And that thought lasted until his radio squarked with updates from the patrolmen who had been dispatched to the estate. He listened with growing horror as the men reported finding two victims, male and female, both unconscious, the female suffering from at least one stab wound. Ambulances were demanded, and Katsumoto nearly pushed his foot through the floor.
He arrived after the ambulances and forced himself not to rush straight into the house, wary of getting in the way of the EMTs. A sergeant he thought he vaguely recognized was walking out of the front door, and Katsumoto walked over and demanded a full report.
"Male vic is in bed around the back; we aren't sure why he won't wake up. The woman was in a small library on the second level of the main building. I did what I could to stop the bleeding."
Katsumoto looked down at the man's hands to see they were streaked with blood that he had obviously made an effort to clean off. Katsumoto wasn't as hard a man as some people thought, and he felt a shock of sympathy for the younger man and nodded at him to stop. "That's enough. I'm sure you did everything you could."
There was a noise from behind them, and they turned to see a gurney being pushed toward the waiting ambulances. Katsumoto couldn't help but stare in confusion as the stretcher drew near. He automatically looked for bruises or cuts, but Magnum looked fine.
"Any idea what's wrong with him?" the detective called as the two EMTs moved past him.
"Looks like he was drugged with something. Doctor will probably order blood work," came the slightly distracted reply. The stretcher was quickly loaded into the back of the ambulance, the blonde EMT moving to the front while the darker-haired one made to climb in next to Magnum. A shout made all four of them turn to the front door to see another stretcher being pushed out.
This time the EMTs looked slightly frantic. "Let us pull out first; she can't wait!"
Katsumoto caught a glimpse of Higgins' face, looking far too pale, of the blood staining her pajamas, and then she was being lifted into the back of the second ambulance. It took off with its lights flashing, followed at a more sedate pace by Magnum's ambulance. The night went from full of activity and light and noise to oppressively silent, and Katsumoto glanced down at his watch. He wasn't sure about T.C., but Rick worked at a club and was bound to be up. With a deep sigh, he pulled his cell out and scrolled through his contacts. He always hated this part of his job.
It took Rick almost twice as long to make it to the hospital as he'd expected thanks to a power outage causing havoc with the traffic lights along the road he needed to take. He spotted T.C.'s van and swung the wheel to pull into the space next to it. He didn't even bother locking the car, just grabbed the keys and ran, nearly going straight into the automatic doors as they opened too slowly. He saw T.C., looking tense and upset, standing with a stern-looking nurse, and called out.
"There he is!" T.C. said to the nurse. "That's Rick, Higgins' brother." Rick didn't even question it, just nodded as he reached his friend's side. "So he can go up and sit with her, right? Because he's family."
Both men watched as the nurse glared at them, seeming to be trying to tell them she didn't believe a word of the hasty story before she finally nodded.
"Very well." She turned to Rick. "Your sister is currently in ICU. You can sit there with her until she's taken to the operating theater, but make sure you don't get in the way of the staff. They won't hesitate to throw you out if they think it's in their patient's best interests."
"Wait, why isn't she already in surgery? Wasn't she stabbed?" Rick's conversation with Katsumoto had been brief with very few details, but Higgins having been stabbed was one of them.
"Her blood pressure is too low for us to operate. The wound has been packed, and we're pushing transfusions as fast as we can. They're keeping a close eye on her; don't worry. As soon as she's stabilized, she'll be taken to surgery." She gave a vague wave, and a porter appeared as if summoned. "ICU, room 12."
The porter started to walk away, and Rick was forced to hurry after him.
When they reached the room, Rick stopped in the doorway for a moment. The lights were glaringly bright, so the nurses could see the readouts from the various machines clearly, he realized. But it was making Higgins look so pale that, for that one heart-stoppingly long second, he thought he was too late. As one member of the medical team noticed him standing there and waved him in, he heard the steady beeping of a heart monitor and let out the breath that had frozen in his throat.
"You can sit over there," the nurse told him with a sympathetic smile. "I'll have to ask you to stay away from the bed for now." She turned back to Higgins as Rick nodded dumbly and crossed the room to the chair.
He stared hard and quickly realized the lighting wasn't to blame for Higgins looking like death. He shifted his gaze to the equipment; they had all had plenty of time to figure out how to read various bits and pieces of medical paraphenalia after they'd left the Korengal.
Higgins' pulse was rapid, and her oxygen levels disturbingly low, but it was the bluish tint to her lips that scared him the most.
'Hypovolemic shock,' he told himself in a surprisingly calm voice, one that reminded him of Nuzo. 'The bleeding needs to be controlled so the blood volume can be replaced; otherwise she'll probably die on the table.' Nuzo would never have been so callous, though, and Rick surprised himself with the thought. A touch on his shoulder brought him back with a jerk, and his head snapped up to see the same nurse from before; he glanced over at the monitors again and realized with a shock how much time had passed.
"The theater's being prepped now; we'll be taking her down in just a moment. You can wait here; the surgeon will be in to see you after."
"Can you…" He swallowed hard, worried he wouldn't like the answer if he finished the question. "Do you know what her chances are?" He hated the look she gave him.
"The surgeons here are first-rate," she told him quietly. "We'll take good care of her."
And then the room was empty.
Rick spent some time in Magnum's room, where T.C. told him they were pretty sure their friend had inhaled whatever had knocked him out and that they had no idea when he would wake up. Rick didn't stay long; he felt antsy, like leaving Higgins' room would somehow cause problems. It was irrational and absurd, and he only felt slightly better when T.C. didn't try to argue with him about going back.
There was a clock in the room, but he made a conscious effort to ignore it, so he had no idea how long he had been waiting when someone, he thought they were a porter, came in with an IV pole.
"Surgery must be nearly finished," the man remarked with a smile at Rick. "Bet you're glad to hear that." He strolled off, leaving Rick to wrestle with the anxiety he had been feeling since seeing Katsumoto's name pop up on his cell. When Higgins was finally wheeled back in, he was shocked at how much better she looked. She was still pale, but the blue was gone from her lips and the numbers on the machines were all much closer to what he recognized as normal.
The surgeon came in as promised and explained that the knife hadn't done as much damage as they had first thought.
"We were expecting organ damage," she told him, "but the biggest issue was a nicked artery. We'll be keeping her in ICU, at least for tonight, for close observation, but I'm cautiously hopeful that we'll be moving her to a regular ward tomorrow."
Rick was so dizzy from the relief he nearly forgot to thank her before she left. He waited until the staff had gone before standing by the bed and resting one hand on Higgins' shoulder.
"Come back to us," he told her quietly. "We're all waiting."
He stayed in her room all night, not leaving her side until her doctor came in the next morning. The man was impressed with whatever readings he checked and gave Rick a smile.
"Everything's looking good. We'll be moving her soon, and visiting hours won't be starting for a while yet. Maybe you should take the opportunity to get some sleep? Maybe some food?" He held up a hand, stopping Rick's protest before it could even start. "We'll call if anything changes."
Katsumoto swore as he heard Rick's voicemail kick in again and hit the steering wheel in frustration.
"Call T.C." he snapped at his bluetooth mic, swerving around a Land Rover that hadn't managed to clear the lane before stopping in the face of the police lights racing up from behind.
"Katsumoto!" T.C. sounded almost jovial, and a faint call of "Morning!" came across the line from what sounded like two different voices.
"Where are you and Rick now?" Katsumoto's tone was brusque, almost angry.
"We're on our way to Robin's Nest with Thomas. He's been discharged. We were gonna get some breakfast before we head back to see Higgy. What's up?" The levity had left T.C.'s voice. Now he sounded tense.
"The lab ran blood taken from the scene, and it threw up a match to a federal case. Five other home invasions in five different states. Each time a young woman, slim, blonde, five-four to five-six, has gone missing. Only two of the bodies have been recovered, but the feds suspect they're all dead." There was silence on the line as Kastumoto focused on not crashing into an SUV that had tried to beat him to the light and the three men on the other end of the line tried to digest what they had been told.
"So what happens now?" That from Magnum who sounded like he had suddenly gotten a lot closer to T.C.'s cell. "Is Higgins in danger?"
"She may have been this guy's target. I'm on my way to the hospital, and I've called for a unit, but there's a lot going on today." He was about to ask them if they could meet him there and provide unofficial backup, but Rick beat him to it.
"We're turning around."
A screech came over the phone, like tires on a car making an illegal u-turn. Katsumoto chose not to comment and simply ended the call. Whoever this man was, he had had all night to patch himself up and come up with a plan on how to get through the, admittedly limited, hospital security. Katsumoto pressed down hard on the gas and spent the rest of the drive hoping he wasn't going to be too late. He would happily admit he cared for Higgins, and even Magnum, if it would spare the young woman from becoming the next sickeningly battered body this disturbed criminal left in his wake.
The hospital parking lot was already half-full, but Katsumoto wasn't looking for an actual space and pulled in by a row of bollards, flashing his badge at the security guard who called after him. He flashed his badge again at the nurse behind the desk and demanded Higgins' room number in his best 'you do not want to mess with me' voice. She gave him hasty directions, and he jogged quickly through the hallways, calling in his updated location as he went.
He hoped that he would walk into Higgins' private room and find her wide awake and surrounded by her trio of willing bodyguards. Instead, he reached her room just in time to see a porter walking in. Before the door swung closed, Katsumoto could see Higgins and the porter were the only two people in the room. Why did she need a porter when she was obviously still unconscious? The thought had the detective reaching for his sidearm. The worst that could happen was that he would scare a hospital employee and be forced to apologize.
Ignoring the wide-eyed looks of the other people in the corridor, Katsumoto carefully pushed the door open with his left hand, the gun in his right, aimed at the floor. At first glance, it looked as though the porter was simply staring down at the unconscious Higgins. Then Katsumoto saw the tension in the man's shoulders, and every instinct he possessed screamed at him that this was his guy.
"HPD!" he called, taking one large step into the room and raising his gun. "Step back!"
The man's head lifted, and he turned his face slightly. Katsumoto saw a grin spread across the other man's lips and noticed his hands, one heavily bandaged, were wrapped around Higgins' throat. The skin around them was white from the pressure, and adrenaline surged through Katsumoto.
"Let her go!" The detective took a step closer to the bed, wary of opening fire with his target so close to Higgins but knowing he could hit the man if he needed to. "I won't tell you again!"
The other man didn't respond, didn't even react, but the monitors around the bed were starting to beep and flash.
Katsumoto took a breath, checked his aim, and fired.
The man fell to the side with a yell of pain, pawing uselessly at his ruined shoulder with his bandaged hand. Katsumoto hurried over and pushed him roughly to his stomach, ignoring his whimpers. As the door opened and two nurses came running in, summoned no doubt by the frantic tones of the equipment, Katsumoto pulled the man's hands behind his back and cuffed them tightly. He was just about to call it in when the door burst open and Magnum rushed in, Rick and T.C. hot on his heels, all three looking nearly frantic.
They stopped as they surveyed the room, bumping into one another in a move lifted straight from a Laurel and Hardy film. Under different circumstances, Katsumoto would have found it funny. On the bed, Higgins was stirring as her body's adrenal response fought off the sedative effects of the painkillers she was on. Katsumoto was still crouched on the floor with one hand on the back of his prisoner, keeping the man from moving around too much.
"Nice of you to join us." If the situation hadn't been so serious, Katsumoto could have laughed at the looks he was getting from the three men.
"Magnum?" Higgins' voice was so quiet it was nearly drowned by the beeping of the heart monitor.
The nurses stepped aside as Magnum moved to the side of the bed, one of them whispering a warning about too much excitement to him.
"Hey, Higgy." He took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb over her fingers. "You had us worried."
She frowned a little at that, peering up at him. "What happened?"
That drew a snort from someone, although, later, no one would admit to it being them.
Magnum just shook his head. "That's a long story."