this moment. So long, in fact, that she had to wait for him. It made her smile.
Then he was serious, again. 'We heard the fourth bomber was a false alarm. Are you okay?'
'A few bruises. I'm fine.'
'Listen, Jerry and I just learned a few interesting things. I know we're all meeting over at the command center in a little bit, but I thought you might like a heads-up.'
'So what did you learn?'
He told her about the bomb expert's findings. It only confirmed her suspicions, that the young men carrying the backpacks had no clue what was to happen today.
He told her that Jerry was downloading the best shots they had found of the five suspects and ended by asking if there was anything else she wanted them to bring.
'How 'bout a burger and fries,' she said.
'I'll see what I can do.'
He hung up before she could tell if he knew she was joking. With Morrelli it was hard to decipher. There had always been chemistry between them but otherwise they seemed out of sync with no common ground to rely on. Maybe she'd simply given up trying to figure it out.
She finished peeling off the rest of her clothes. Ironically the chase had been good for her, mentally as well as physically. A month ago she wasn't sure her body would hold up to those sorts of challenges ever again. She had felt weak and nauseated. A fever and nosebleeds sent her into a tailspin of panic, constantly wondering if the virus she had been exposed to might be replicating itself inside her body. At times she believed she could feel it exploding her blood cells. But she'd been lucky. She'd gone past the incubation stage and still showed no signs of the virus. Yes, she'd dodged yet another bullet, unlike Cunningham.
Now as she examined her injured right side she could see it had already started to turn blue and purple. Next to the scars on her torso, the bruises looked mild. No big deal. She'd accepted the fact that her body was becoming a road map of past cases. Told herself it came with the territory. When you tracked killers for a living, sometimes it got rough. Most of those memories had been safely compartmentalized. Eventually the fear and panic of the exposure would find its own compartment. Now if only she could do the same with her personal life.
Her friend Gwen Patterson, the professional psychologist whose past client list included killers as well as five-star generals, didn't believe in compartments. She oftentimes reminded Maggie that stuffing everything behind doors and into convenient little compartments of the mind sometimes had a way of backfiring.
'One of these days a few walls may crumble. Then what?'
She suggested Maggie find a way to sift through the good and bad. Learn how to hang onto the good stuff. But what if the good?those memories of her father?only reminded her of what's missing in her life? Maybe that's what Nick Morrelli was reminding her of, again. Too many things missing.
Maggie checked the time. A five-minute shower would definitely do her wonders. And then she needed to learn some things on her own. She pulled out her laptop and plugged it in on her way to the shower.
CHAPTER 41
Henry Lee sat next to his wife's bed, staring at the tubes connecting her to a half a dozen machines. The biggest tube that came out from under the covers at the foot of the bed held his attention. Yellow and red fluids pumped through it, mixing into a spiral of pink. It nauseated him whenever he let himself think that fluid was actually being pumped out of Hannah.
He watched the tubes because he couldn't quite look directly at her. She was bloated beyond recognition, thin lips shoved apart by more tubes down her throat. Her eyelids fluttered and sometimes he caught her looking for him. Did she know he was here? He grabbed her hand and squeezed.
'That's good.' The nurse noticed as she came into the intensive care room. 'She's going to be a little uncomfortable as she starts to notice the tube down her throat. We're easing back on the morphine so she'll wake up.'
'Uncomfortable?' He didn't like the sound of that. He didn't want her to be in pain. He stood and wrapped Hannah's hand in both of his.
'It's okay.' The nurse recognized his angst. 'We need her to be a little more awake and alert so when we pull the tube out she'll breathe on her own. Otherwise heart patients want to sleep and let the machine continue to do all the work for them.'
'But she'll be in pain?' He wasn't satisfied.
'Uncomfortable.' The nurse corrected him. 'As soon as we get it out, we'll be able to increase the dose again. It won't take long.'
Hannah was staring up at him now, eyes blurred but she looked like she was trying to tell him that she hurt. Though her arms were poked with needles and tubes she was attempting to reach up to her throat, glassy eyes imploring him to help her. It killed him to see her like this.
'She'll be okay,' the nurse said. 'I'm going to need you to step out of the room while we take the tube out.'
He didn't move. He didn't want to leave her. Her eyes kept pleading with him. How could he leave?
The nurse put a hand on his shoulder.
'It'll only be a few minutes. I'll come get you just as soon as we're finished.'
He tried to keep his face from wincing or showing his concern. No, it wasn't just concern. Who was he fooling? It was fear?pure and simple. He could not lose this woman. Losing a daughter was one thing, like cutting off one of his arms. But Hannah? That would be like ripping out his own heart. You can survive without an arm. It's tough as hell but you find a way. Without Hannah? No, he'd never be strong enough to survive without her.
'I'll be right here, Hannah. The nurse is going to take good care of you.' Then he added as if he needed to hear it out loud, 'You're going to be just fine.'
He walked out of the room, his knees so weak he had to put his hand up against the wall to steady himself. He made it through the double-wide doors that took him out of the Intensive Coronary Care unit, and he felt like he couldn't breathe. The waiting room was still empty. He dropped into one of the unyielding vinyl chairs.
He glanced around. Still no Dixon. Henry hadn't seen the boy since he left with Henry's cell phone to call his friends. He still couldn't believe that they had found a way to use Dixon, to suck his own grandson into this. My God, they went so far as to seek out and target the boy's friends. And why? Because of Henry's apprehension? Because they wanted to ensure his silence?
He closed his eyes and shook his head. He still couldn't believe it. He wanted to call Allan again. Ask him if he knew. Find out what the hell was going on? How could something that had begun with such honorable intentions turn into a greedy and disgusting grab for power and money?
The boy's absence only made Henry more anxious. He was relieved to have Dixon safe and with him, but now he grew impatient with the boy. Of course, he was concerned about his friends but his grandmother had just come out of major heart surgery. He should be here at her side?at Henry's side.
He absolutely hated to admit that he needed someone to be at his side. For forty years he had worked his way up to establish a successful business, a national success. A Fortune 500 success. Even in retirement he had refused to hand it over, insisting on remaining chairman, casting the deciding vote, always in control and on top of things. Or so he believed until now.
Hannah's emergency surgery had certainly caught him off guard. Just like his daughter's death. He had believed there could be no worse day than that dreadful one in April back in 1995. The difference?Hannah was there with him, by his side.
Right now he didn't care about anything else. Didn't care that their strategy had gone so terribly wrong. Or had it? Is this exactly what they wanted to happen?
Henry was beginning to understand that what he considered patriotism and honor, his so-called business associates appeared to see as only methods to raise profit margins and leverage political power. Henry had made a mistake. He realized that now. Family was what mattered most. Family was the most important thing. Everything else?country, business, even honor, were secondary. The tragic irony was that it was his sense of family that had sent him down this path in the first place. Only he had strayed too far. He'd forgotten what his original mission was,
