Chapter Sixteen

Art paced outside of the hospital room, brow creased with worry. He paused to check his watch, then started pacing again. Rachel rounded the corner with two cups of coffee in her hands and passed one to him. Distracted, he took it, making a face as he took a sip. It was hot and bitter. He blew over the top of it to cool it.

Rachel sat carefully on an orange plastic seat and balanced her coffee on her knee. "How is she doing?

"The doctor is still with her," Art said. "I don't think it'll be much longer before we can talk to her."

Rachel sipped her coffee. "I hope she can tell us where the house is."

Art met her eyes for a beat, nodding once. "Me too."

Silence fell for a long moment, broken only by the far off clack of someone's shoes. The intercom buzzed, calling for a doctor to go to the ER. A nurse opened the door at the end of the hallway, shooting them a curious glance when she passed.

"Do you think he's still alive?" Rachel frowned, drawing her eyebrows together.

"Raylan?" Art pursed his lips. "I think that son of a bitch will keep him alive as long as he can. He's a bargaining chip while he's alive. Dead, he's just years on the bastard's jail time."

The female doctor poked her head out of the door. "You can talk to her now."

Rachel dumped her coffee into a rubbish bin. "How is she doing?"

The doctor stepped out of the door, closing it behind her. "Physically, she's pretty beaten up. Looks like someone really smacked her about one or two days ago. The bullet just grazed her arm. That should heal fine." She bit her top lip. "There are signs she had rough sex within the past week or so. I can't tell if she consented to it, but given the bruises everywhere else..." she let the sentence trail off.

"How is she mentally?" Art asked. "She sounded pretty damn calm on the phone."

The doctor tucked her hands into her pockets. "She is very shaken up, I think. Could be delayed shock. We're keeping her in for a few days to observe her, just in case."

Art nodded. "Thanks."

She inclined her head. "You're welcome. Ten minutes, okay? I don't want her tiring out too much."

Rachel smiled as the doctor walked past, heading towards the nurse's station a little way down the hall.

Art opened the door and stepped into the room. He stayed a few steps away from the bed.

Hope looked up from the bed. Her arm was in a sling. Stark white bandages covered the cuts on her face and arms. She looked pale, but composed, lips pressed tightly together.

"Who are you?" she asked quietly.

Art smiled. "I'm Art Mullen. This is Rachel Brooks. We're with the Marshals service. You wanted to speak to us?"

Hope clenched the sheet in her hand, eyes fixed on his face. "I want to see some ID."

Rachel pulled her badge from her belt, passing it over. Art held his up, waiting while Hope read it.

She sighed, relaxing. "Okay. The chief has Raylan and the coroner. She was shot." She sucked in a breath. "I tried to tell them, but they won't listen to me. You have to go and get him before the chief kills him!"

Rachel sat next to the bed. "Where is the chief keeping him?"

Hope leaned forward. "I don't know... I can take you though." Art exchanged a glance with Rachel. Hope sighed. "You don't believe me. You think I'm making this up to get attention or something, don't you?"

Art shook his head. "No, honey. We don't."

"Then let's go!" she slammed her good hand down on the bed.

"It's not that simple," Rachel said. "We need time to get a team together. We have to do this properly."

Hope shook her head. "You're going to be too late."

Rachel leaned closer. "We have to do things by the book. If we don't, if we screw up, he'll get away with it. We have a team searching the area you told us about. We'll find them, don't worry."

"You'll help the other girls too?" Hope asked. She sniffed, blinking back tears. "Some of them are only kids, you know? And he's using them to make money!" Her voice rose. "That bastard is using them... hurting them so he can make money!"

Tears poured down her face. She closed her eyes, tilting her face away as she sobbed silently. The tears dripped off her chin and landed on the crisp sheet, making a small damp circle.

"We catch him, he'll never see the outside of a prison again," Art promised.

She lifted her chin. "I want you to kill him."

Art shifted, uncomfortable. "That would make me just like him."

Rachel pulled a notepad out of her pocket. "Hope, I need you to tell us everything you can remember about the place. How many girls is he holding?" she asked gently.

"At least five... he keeps bringing new girls in." Hope laughed bitterly. "Gotta give the customers new product, right?" She scrubbed a hand over her eyes, stifling a yawn. "I'm so tired. I just want this all to be over."

Art nodded. "I can understand that."

"Will it get easier?" Hope asked, eyes wide and dark. "Every time I close my eyes, I'm back there. Tell me it won't always be like this."

"It gets easier. You go on living... making new memories to push those bad ones back. It's how you beat the bastards, honey," Rachel murmured. "If we get a map, can you show us the route to where you were held? It's our best chance to find them quickly. The team is searching, but that takes a lot of time."

"And you don't have time to spare, right?" Hope nodded. "I'll do my best."