Part 23
"That girl was confessing before we even got around to askin' her any questions," Vin said with a certain grim satisfaction. "She was still talkin' when I left. And Marcus Hoyt's in shit up to his eyebrows."
"Hoyt ordered her to kill Buck?"
"Yeah. And Buck wasn't the only one. Two other people she's killed under orders from Hoyt, patients in this hospital."
"But I don't understand," JD said. It was the first thing he'd said since Vin's return. "She's a nurse. Why would she kill people? What kind of hold did Hoyt have over her?"
"Long story. For one thing, though she went by 'Ava Ortiz', her real name is Yvette Morales. She's one of Pedro Morales' kids."
Chris frowned deepened. "That doesn't make sense. Morales isn't into gunrunning. He doesn't even like guns."
"Too busy killin' off people with his drugs and prostitution," Vin agreed. "But apparently Yvette-or Ava-tried to break with the family. Changed her name, went to nursing school. Got into some kind of trouble-guess we'll find out more about that later-and Hoyt helped her out. She said-an' I believe her-that she didn't realize he was 'buyin' her soul' until he came around for repayment. And then he had a double hold over her-he knew who she really was. The right word to the wrong person and she'd have lost everything she'd worked so hard for. Least, that was the way she looked at it." Any sympathy Vin might have felt for the young woman vanished as he looked at the peacefully sleeping Buck Wilmington and realized-had Chris been just a few seconds slower in reacting-Buck would be dead now.
The ICU was finally calming down from the horror of the afternoon. Still, no one had made any attempt to kick either JD or Chris-or now, Vin-out of Buck's room. On the contrary, one of the nurses had even brought in more chairs. JD sat in one, as close to Buck as he could manage, holding his "big brother's" hand clasped tightly in his. Buck had woken up briefly in all the commotion after Chris had stopped Ava Ortiz from killing him. He'd managed a wink at JD-greatly relieving that young man-before slipping back into sleep. A stunned Dr. Culver-apparently having a hard time believing a hospital staff member could be a killer-had taken the time to reassure them Buck's condition continued to improve and his vital signs were stronger every hour. The surgeon had even mentioned possibly removing the respirator as early as tomorrow afternoon.
Vin frowned as he looked at his best friend. Chris still sat in the same chair where he'd spent so many hours keeping vigil. He'd turned it a bit so he was facing Vin at the foot of the bed, but every few minutes he'd look over his shoulder at Buck's face and the monitors mounted over the bed. And he still clasped Buck's right hand as tightly as JD did the left.
'Stubborn cuss is goin' to collapse himself if he don't get some sleep soon,' Vin thought. He'd tried to get Chris to go out to the waiting room for some rest and had been firmly rebuffed. Chris wasn't ready to leave Buck yet. Hell, Vin knew how he felt. Even with the doctor's reassurances that Buck was improving, Death still hovered too closely. Buck was still on that respirator. Vin-for one-wasn't going to rest easy until Buck was breathing on his own. Not to mention out of ICU. Couldn't relax with those damn monitors beeping and chirping. It was impossible not to look at them.
But there was something else, a look in Chris' eyes Vin didn't recognize and didn't like. Something bleak and bitter and deep. Something that reminded Vin of the stories he'd heard about the "old" Chris Larabee-the man who had nothing left to live for, the man on whom everyone had given up.
Everyone except Buck Wilmington.
Vin's eyes strayed back to the figure in the bed. 'Do you have any idea how much he cares about you?' he silently questioned the sleeping man. 'How much he depends on you? You're always tellin' me I saved Chris. Or "the team" saved him. No way, Pard. We had the easy job. You did the hard part. You pulled him back from that cliff he was standin' on. Hell, Buck, you're still his anchor. And not just his. You're JD's anchor. Ezra's, too. Maybe even mine. You're the glue that holds us together, Pard. And don't ever doubt that...'
"Hoyt's SOB attorney's going to have a hard time getting him released now." Chris' voice was cold.
Vin shivered at the look on his friend's face-a look of hatred and vengeance that was unfortunately mirrored on JD's. He knew how they felt; he felt the same. Hoyt's attorney shouldn't even try to get him out of jail. His client was safer where he was.
"Anything new on the actual bomber?"
Vin shook his head. "If it was Bolo Orlowski, we can't prove it. The Miami ATF did send a couple of agents to talk to him. 'Course he says he hasn't left home in a week; his wife backs him up." Vin shrugged. "They're checking airline records and credit card charges, but if it was Bolo, he hasn't stayed in business this long by leavin' a trail."
"Buck had to have seen something," Chris insisted.
"And we'll just have to wait until he can tell us what it was," Vin pointed out.
"How much damage was there to the apartment?' JD asked suddenly. He flushed uncomfortably as the other two turned to look at him. He looked even younger, suddenly, and miserable. "I mean, I know it's not important, not with Buck...but...I'm sorry..."
The harsh lines the last few days had carved into Chris' face softened slightly. "Hell, JD, it is important. It's your place, too. No need to apologize for worrying about your home."
JD stared down at his hand clasped with Buck's. He wouldn't look at either of them.
"JD," Vin said softly. "It is your home. Nothin' wrong or bad or selfish about carin' about it. And the good news is, the damage can be fixed. They've already done some emergency repairs so that the rain can't leak in. The worst of the damage was confined to Buck's bedroom. Pretty much everything in there was destroyed. But I bet we can salvage most of the rest. One of the investigators told me the neighbors can probably go home next week. It'll take a while longer to fix your place back up, but you will go home again, JD." He smiled. "You and Bucklin both."
"Vin's right. And in the meantime, you'll stay at the ranch," Chris offered. He rummaged in the bag of food Vin had brought and snorted. "Ezra doesn't get back here soon, his salad'll wilt."
Vin had worried about the undercover man's absence as well. "I'll go call him," he said, standing up. Sitting had stiffened his muscles again and he winced. "He probably conked out for a nap at his place. Don't think he was feelin' at all well when we left."
"Wait." JD looked startled, and alarmed. "Didn't you say Ezra was driving Buck's pickup?"
"Yeah. So I could have the Jag. Why?" Vin was starting to get an uneasy feeling.
JD's eyes widened. "The pickup's here. In the parking lot. I saw it when we came in from the airport."
Chris shot to his feet. "Shit!"
"JD, where?" Vin snapped.
"The parking lot to the east of the main entrance. Almost at the end, the last row. About halfway down, I think."
"Stay here. Don't you leave Buck!" Chris slammed out the door. Before Vin followed him he took one last look at JD. The younger man was standing, holding Buck's hand but facing the door.
Vin nodded at him grimly. He didn't need to say anything. JD would protect Buck with his life if need be.
Vin followed Chris out the door.
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Nathan Jackson turned from the reception desk in the ICU waiting room as Chris Larabee shot past him. "Chris?" he started.
Vin grabbed him. "Nathan! When did you get-never mind. Come on!"
Not having the slightest idea what was going on, Nathan shrugged and followed his two teammates to the elevators.
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The sun was setting behind the hospital and the parking lot was already filled with the lengthening shadows of dusk. "I don't see it," Chris snapped.
"See what?" Nathan was giving up hope that anyone was ever going to answer his questions.
"Damn!" Vin turned and started running in the opposite direction. "We came in the other way," he yelled over his shoulder. "JD would have been looking on the other side of the lot."
Chris spotted Buck's pickup first. "There!" But Vin was closer, so he got there first. Running up to the driver's side door, he looked in the window. "Shit! He's in here!" He pounded on the window. "Ezra!"
Ezra was slumped across the seat, his head on the passenger seat. One arm was pulled over his head in such a way they couldn't see his face. Vin stared at the still figure intently, but he couldn't tell if Ezra was breathing or not. "Ezra!" He tried the door again. "It's locked."
"Stand clear," Chris ordered. Before Vin could stop him, or even realize what he was about to do, Chris drew back his fist and slammed into the window with all the force given him by the last stressful days. The window shattered into tiny fragments. Ignoring the blood streaming down his hand, Chris reached in and released the lock on the door. "Ezra!" he snapped, yanking the door open.
Nathan pushed past the other two men. One foot on the running board, he leaned in over the unmoving figure. "Ezra?" he said, shaking the still form, "Can you hear me?" He looked up. His two friends could see the fear in his eyes. "Vin! Go get some help from the hospital. We need a stretcher now!"
Vin took off without a backward glance.
"Nathan?" Chris' voice demanded answers.
"His heartbeat's too fast, Chris. Feels like it's skipping. And he's barely breathing!"
~+~+~+~
'This is a nightmare. This has to be a nightmare.'
Chris stood just inside the treatment bay and for the second time that day watched as hospital personnel fought desperately to save one of his men.
Nathan stood next to him. The paramedic kept his eyes glued to the cardiac monitor. Ventricular tachycardia. Chris had heard a doctor say it, Nathan had repeated it.
The doctors had quizzed them about Ezra's health. Any history of heart trouble? Any recent illness? Chris had told them about the food poisoning, the fact that Dr. Baker had commented about Ezra's irregular heartbeat. "This isn't food poisoning," one of the doctors had muttered.
Vin had gone upstairs to check on Buck and let JD know what was going on. The lanky sharpshooter hadn't said a word since they'd found Ezra in the parking lot.
Chris rubbed a hand across his stinging eyes. He was so exhausted he couldn't think past Ezra lying in front of him and Buck on a respirator upstairs.
Chris' carefully constructed world was falling to pieces around him.
And this time, he wasn't sure he could survive it.
A high-pitched buzzing pulled his eyes to the monitors. "Oh, shit, no, Ezra, don't do this," he heard Nathan mutter.
"What?" Chris demanded.
An alarm blared loudly.
"V-fib!" yelled a doctor.
Chris stared at the monitor. "Oh my God," he whispered.
Ezra was dying.
Lakewood-Saint David's Hospital:
Dr. Craig Baker parked his car in the physician's parking lot at five-thirty. He wasn't due on duty until six, but after spending most of the afternoon trying to tell himself he had to be mistaken about Ezra Standish, he'd finally accepted the fact he wasn't going to be able to let go of his curiosity until he knew for sure.
He didn't think he'd get anywhere if he called Standish and asked him to drop by for a checkup and some blood tests, but if he asked Chris Larabee to get his agent to come in, that might work. He'd understood from both Lauren Murray and the ATF agent Montgomery that Larabee was the one person Standish might listen to. And even if he didn't agree, he might at least obey.
Maybe.
He decided to call University Medical Center and check on Buck Wilmington's condition. If Larabee was there-and he had the strong feeling he was-he'd ask to speak to him.
University Medical Center
Intensive Care Unit:
JD looked up as the door opened. His eyes widened as he took in the look on Vin's face. "Vin?" he asked, rising to his feet.
Vin's eyes flickered to Buck's sleeping face. "Come on out here, JD."
Scared, JD followed Vin out into the corridor to see his friend lean against the wall, then slide down to the floor. Vin buried his face in his hands.
"Vin?" JD knelt at his side, desperately needing to know-and at the same time fearing to hear-what was going on. "Did you find Ezra?"
Vin nodded.
"What!" JD reached out and shook his shoulder. "Is he okay?" 'Stupid question,' he told himself. 'If he was okay, he'd be here. And Vin wouldn't be acting like this.' "Vin," he whispered, aware that one of the nurses was watching him from her desk, "just tell me what's wrong."
Vin rubbed his hands over his face and then dropped them. He stared straight ahead at nothing, avoiding JD's worried gaze. "We found him in Buck's truck. He's unconscious, they've got him downstairs now. Hell, JD, he must of been there for hours! Why the Hell didn't I go looking for him earlier?"
"Unconscious?" JD slid down next to Vin with a thump. "But...what's wrong with him?"
"I don't know." Vin shook his head. He took a deep breath. "It don't look good, JD. That's why I had you come out here. Don't think we need to risk Bucklin hearin' somethin's wrong right now."
"Agent Tanner?"
Both men looked up. The nurse behind the desk was holding the phone out. "It's a Dr. Baker over at Lakewood St. David Hospital. He asked for Agent Larabee, but-"
Vin nodded. "He's the doc that took care of Buck and Ez after that food poisoning." He made to stand up. JD was quicker and got to his feet, then helped his friend to stand. Moving slowly, Vin took the phone from the nurse.
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"Charging!"
"Three hundred!"
"Clear!"
Ezra's body arched as the electrical current flowed through his body.
"No conversion."
"Push one amp sodium bicarb. Raise to three fifty."
"Charging-three-fifty!"
"Clear!"
Ezra's body jerked again.
"Come on, you SOB!" Chris Larabee yelled at his friend.
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"Agent Larabee, this is Craig Baker, I'm the physician that treated-"
"I know who you are, Doc," Vin said tiredly. Lord, his head hurt and suddenly all he wanted to do was sit down somewhere and quietly pass out, then wake up to find he was still at the cabin in Wyoming and all this had been a dream. "But I'm not Larabee. This is Tanner. Chris can't come to the phone right now."
"Oh. Well, maybe you can help. I think I might have figured out what was wrong with Agent Standish-although it doesn't really make any sense-and I was wondering if you could-"
"Wait," Vin interrupted him, his heart starting to pound. "Did you say you know what's wrong with him?"
His change in tense hadn't gone unnoticed. The doctor's voice sharpened. "Agent Tanner, has something happened to Agent Standish?"
"He's down in the ER here right now, we found him passed out-he was probably out for a couple of hours, at least. They're calling it-" Vin had to stop to think of the words. "Ventricular...something...tachy-"
"Ventricular tachycardia?"
"Yeah. That's it." Vin drew in a shaky breath. "Does that-"
"Agent Tanner, I need to speak to the doctor in charge, now!"
Vin stared at the phone. "But-"
"If it's what I think it is, normal treatment could kill him. I don't care if you have to pull your gun on the doctor, I need to talk to him!"
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"Pulse eighty-eight and steady, Doctor."
The ER physician stepped back from the examining table and turned to face Chris and Nathan. "Interesting bedside manner you have, Agent Larabee," he said with raised eyebrows and a small grin.
"Whatever works," Chris said, his eyes on his agent. "How is he?"
"He's stable for now. Pulse is steady, breathing fine. We'll be moving him up to ICU soon. I want a close eye kept on him until-"
"Doctor! Pulse is dropping!"
The man whirled back around to the table. "What the-"
The door slammed open and Vin Tanner barreled in. "Stop!"
"Stop what? Who the hell are you?"
"Vin-" Nathan started.
"He's one of my men," Chris snapped. He stepped forward and grabbed Vin by the arm. "What's wrong?" He took in a deep breath. "Is it Buck?"
Vin shook his head. "No, he's the same. Chris, Dr. Baker called. He needs to talk to whoever's treating Ez, right now!"
"Pulse down to fifty, Doctor."
The doctor stared from Vin to Chris back to Ezra. "Who is Dr. Baker?"
"He's the one that treated Ez at Lakewood-St. David. He knows what's wrong with him! He says if you treat this like-whatever it looks like-you could kill him!"
"Vin!" Nathan croaked, scandalized. Bad enough his teammates were known throughout Denver for being the world's worst patients, now they were critiquing treatment protocols?
Another alarm sounded. The doctor looked up at the monitor, then grabbed his stethoscope. "Get me ten CCs-"
"No!" Vin yanked his gun from the holster. "Don't do anything until you talk to Baker!"
Everyone froze.
Chris looked at Vin, then at the doctor. "Do as he says." His voice was chipped ice.
The doctor hesitated, eyed Vin cautiously, then yanked the stethoscope from around his neck and stepped back from the table. Without a word he stalked to the door.
Minutes-probably no more than two but it seemed like a lifetime as Ezra's pulse gradually slowed and no one in the room seemed to be able to move-went by.
"You want to put the gun away, Cowboy?" Chris asked calmly.
Vin flushed and holstered the weapon quickly. "Sorry," he muttered sheepishly to the medical personnel who were all staring at him as if he were some sort of wild animal. "Had to make sure he'd listen to me."
"What did Baker think-" Chris started.
He was interrupted when the door swung open again and the doctor rushed back in. "Stop the IV. NOW!"
tbc...