Part 20
Chris looked up as Buck shifted again. He stood up, ready to move into Buck's line of vision. His friend had woken three times since that first time early this morning. Each time he had started to panic when he registered the invasive tube in his throat, realized his breathing was not his to control. Each time Chris had managed to calm him but it was taking longer as Buck became more aware. He also seemed to be in a lot of pain. They were having to be careful how much pain medication to give him in order not to depress his respiratory system any further. Chris understood that but it was hard for him to see Buck so uncomfortable.
Buck also seemed to be trying to tell Chris something but Chris couldn't figure out what it was. He'd reassured Buck that Ezra and Vin were okay; told him JD and Nathan were on the way back from Florida (he still hadn't been able to reach Josiah. (Which didn't really surprise him: that area of Mexico was notorious for "dead" zones). Buck's eyes were glazed with pain and shock but he kept trying to communicate something to his old friend.
Chris felt helpless. He hated it.
He looked up as the door opened and Dr. Culver came in again. He glanced at Chris and then stepped to Buck's side. "The nurse says he's agitated," he said in a low voice.
"Keeps getting that way when he tries to wake up," Chris admitted.
Culver finished examining Buck and stepped back, frowning. "We've increased his pain medication but he seems to be fighting it." He gestured to the broken leg, encased in plaster and slightly suspended. "That's a bad break...not even considering his other injuries. And then there's the respirator."
"He doesn't like that much."
"I don't imagine he does, but I don't want to try to wean him off yet. He's lucky only three ribs were broken, but they're on the same side as the lung that collapsed." Culver looked up and studied Chris' face. "Mr. Larabee, you need to take a break."
Chris felt his spine stiffen. "No." It was curt.
"You won't help him if you collapse."
"I won't."
Culver narrowed his eyes. "You know I could have you forcibly removed."
If it was meant as a threat, it backfired. Exhaustion cleared the path for anger. Chris eyes flashed green fire as he growled, "You don't want to try that."
Culver held up a calming hand. "Let's not get into a snarling match, okay? Believe it or not, I am not the enemy. Yours, or his."
The anger ebbed, leaving Chris feeling drained. "I know that," he admitted tiredly. He rubbed his eyes with the back of one hand. Part of him knew the doctor was right-he had to get some rest, but every time he closed his eyes the nightmares came.
And he couldn't stand the thought of leaving Buck alone.
There was a tap on the door and it opened. Chris looked up to see the very welcome form of Vin Tanner step in. "Hey, Cowboy," he greeted Chris, blue eyes in his swollen face keenly assessing him. A slight grin quirked his lips. "To quote you...you look like shit."
"I just made the same diagnosis," Culver said dryly. He started to leave. "Please consider getting some sleep, Mr. Larabee, before I have to pick you up off the floor in order to reach Mr. Wilmington."
"He's right, you know," Vin said quietly after the door closed. He walked to the head of the bed, resting a gentle hand on Buck's shoulder. "Hey, Bucklin."
Chris quickly looked at Buck's face. There was a flicker of movement but he didn't wake up. Feeling worn out, Chris dropped back into the chair. "Where's Ezra?"
"He's out in the waitin' room. AD Travis and that Montgomery fella are here too. Want to talk to you, said they want to update you on the status of the case. Team Three arrested Hoyt and his guys this mornin' but Hoyt's swearing he didn't have anything to do with bombing Buck's place, and his lawyer's tryin' to get him released on bail, or even ROR."
A spurt of fresh anger gave Chris energy. "What?" He growled. He hadn't thought too much about Hoyt during the long night, but now the thought of the arms dealer was enough to give him a focus for his rage. 'Montgomery, too. I owe that SOB a punch in the jaw for letting Ezra find out what was going on.'
He looked at Vin. "You'll stay with Buck for a few minutes?" It wasn't really a question.
"Make it longer, get yourself some sleep. And Ezra's got you some coffee; we stopped on the way in."
'Coffee.' Coffee was good. Caffeine would help to clear his head. "I don't want to be gone too long, Buck gets really agitated..."
Vin snorted. "Hell, Chris, he's probably seein' you and thinkin' the worst. You look bad, Cowboy."
Angry words came to Chris's lips, but he stopped them with an effort and considered what Vin had said. 'Maybe,' he thought reluctantly. He nodded. "You come get me if he needs me."
Vin gestured for him to leave. "Better get out there 'fore Ez gets himself suspended-don't think he's real high on Montgomery's list of favorite people right now."
Ezra took the last swallow of cooling tea from his travel mug and sat it on the floor at his feet. He flipped through the sheets of paper he held in his hand-Xerox copies of the police surveillance logs on his and Buck's homes.
Nearby, AD Travis was talking with Chris about the status of the investigation into the bombing. Marcus Hoyt's attorney was raising Cain downtown about his client's arrest, trying to say there was no evidence linking Hoyt to the bombing and therefore he should remain free while awaiting trial on the illegal arms charges.
"We don't know for sure Hoyt was behind it," Montgomery pointed out.
Chris Larabee fixed him with a poisonous glare. Ezra struggled to suppress a grin: he knew that look well. "Who the hell else could it be?"
"Your team has a high 'case solved' rate," Montgomery pointed out. "That tends to piss people off. Not to mention your winning personalities." He pointed at Ezra. "Standish, here, probably has a personal enemies list longer than the current POTUS."
Chris' eyes flicked to Ezra. "What about the bombs?" He choked a little on the last word. Ezra looked at him in concern. He could tell his boss was exhausted, but he knew Larabee well enough to know he wouldn't want to show any weakness in front of Travis or Montgomery.
"They were the work of a pro. Deliberately designed to do minimum collateral damage, but more than enough to kill the person that set them off."
"But they didn't kill," Ezra said, the thought suddenly occurring to him.
"Wilmington was on the bomb squad before he joined the ATF; he's specialized in demolitions. He probably realized he'd set off the fuse and jumped back a few steps."
Ezra winced. He hated the thought that Buck had realized what was about to happen. Although if it ended up saving his life..."I didn't mean Mr. Wilmington. I meant the device the Bomb Squad found in my own abode."
All three of the other men frowned. "What about it?" Chris said impatiently. "You were in the hospital." His eyes narrowed. "We didn't even know where you were, there was no way Hoyt could have known."
"Possibly true," Ezra admitted, "But once the explosion occurred at Mr. Wilmington's, any miscreant with half of his gray matter intact should have realized my home would be searched. Likewise, had the bomb at my home been the first to be detonated, Mr. Wilmington's home would be searched. It just seems to me that a 'professional' wouldn't have been so lax."
"He has a point there," Travis admitted.
"And I believe I may have deduced how someone gained admittance to my home." Ezra held up the sheet of paper he'd been reading. "At approximately nine-thirty yesterday morning, a van bearing the logo 'City Professional Cleaning Service' parked in front of my building and a man wearing a white coverall carrying what was assumed to be cleaning equipment gained entrance into my apartment. The officer on duty started to inquire into his bona fides, when he ran across the maintenance man for the complex, who confirmed I did have a cleaning person that always came on Wednesday." Ezra held up another sheet. "However, my cleaning woman, Mrs. Seburn, comes on Wednesday afternoons, not mornings-and as a matter of fact, she did arrive at 1 p.m.-by which time the bogus cleaning person had already departed."
Chris frowned. "Sloppy police work," he growled. "He took a chance, though, the police should have at least noticed him fumbling with the lock. Your cleaning woman has a key, doesn't she?"
"She does. However, if one thinks about the circumstances of my departure from my home on Tuesday-with Mr. Wilmington in attendance-it stands to reason he didn't lock the dead bolt or set the security system. The standard lock on the on the front door is flimsy. I could pick it in under twenty seconds-indeed, I have done so in the past. Someone not watching that closely could be forgiven for supposing the impersonator was simply fumbling for the correct key."
"Did the same cleaning service show up at Wilmington's building?" Montgomery asked.
Ezra shuffled through the other stack of papers and shook his head. His mouth was suddenly very dry. 'Dr. Baker did instruct me to drink voluminous amounts of fluids today.' Picking up his mug, he remembered there was a water fountain out in the hallway.
7777777
Montgomery flicked his eyes at Chris as the southerner left the waiting room. "For the record, Larabee, I did try to make Standish stay in the hospital. I even resorted to giving him a direct order." He gestured. "You can see how much good that did."
Travis chortled. "Mr. Standish doesn't respond well to orders," he said ruefully.
"He wouldn't have tried to leave if he hadn't overheard you talking about Buck," Chris snapped, although he knew if the idea had occurred to Ezra he would have done it anyway. He mentally grinned at the thought Ezra might try the same move the next time he was hospitalized. 'Won't work, Standish,' he gloated. 'I'll handcuff you to the bed if I have to. You know it, too.'
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Out in the hallway, Ezra uncharacteristically gulped cold water from the fountain, then filled his mug. He took a few steps back toward the waiting room, then went back to the fountain for more water. Not only was his mouth dry as dust, his throat burned as well. 'Must be from that oxygen they had me on in the hospital,' he thought.
He dismissed any more thought about it from his mind and returned to the waiting room.
"Chris!"
Everyone looked up at Vin Tanner's voice. "Come quick!" He disappeared back into the double doors leading to ICU. Larabee was right behind him and Ezra followed.
Vin leaned forward. Buck had been quiet since Chris left, but now he was starting to shift restlessly again. Eyelashes fluttered and he moved his head back and forth, grimacing around the respirator tube.
"Easy, Buck, relax," Vin said, keeping a reassuring hand on Buck's shoulder. He remembered waking up with a tube in his throat after getting shot once. It hurt like hell, worse than the gunshot wound itself.
Buck's eyes snapped open. He looked at Vin and relaxed for just a moment, then started struggling harder as his eyes darted wildly around the room.
"Easy, easy," Vin breathed. "Chris is okay. He's just out in the waiting room."
That didn't seem to calm the patient. He couldn't move much of his body but what he could he was moving violently. One hand reached up and tried to grab the respirator.
"Buck! No!" Vin grabbed his hand.
The cardiac monitor started beeping wildly. The door crashed open and two nurses ran in. "What happened?" one demanded of Vin.
"He's upset about something." Vin kept trying to soothe Buck but he could tell the other man wasn't even hearing him. Buck's eyes kept flitting wildly around; the dark blue orbs were panicked.
Vin knew what he had to do. With a last squeeze of Buck's shoulder, he slipped out the door as another nurse came in. He ran out to the waiting room.
"Chris! Come quick!"
~+~+~+~
He struggled to open his eyes. He was so tired...it would be so easy to let go...but something kept bothering him. Something important...
Twisted wire. Three strands. Red, black, yellow. Coiled at the top...
Bomb!
Seen it before...seen it somewhere...
Tired...so tired...
Have to wake up. Have to tell them...have to tell Chris.
Have to wake up...
Can't breathe...choking!
Chris!
tbc...