CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
It was almost six-thirty when the strategy session ended at police headquarters. Adrenaline had kept Ami alert for hours, but Brendan Kirkpatrick saw her eyelids droop and her head nod more than once.
“You must be wasted,” he said.
“It’s starting to catch up with me,” she conceded with a weary smile.
“I’ve arranged a room for you at the Heathman,” Brendan said, naming a fine hotel that was only a few blocks from the Justice Center.
Ami looked alarmed. “I can’t afford to stay there.”
“Don’t worry. The county is paying the tab until we’re sure that it’s safe for you and your son to go home. I also asked a policewoman to pick up some of your clothes from your house. They’re in your hotel room along with your toothbrush, a comb and brush, and some other stuff from your bathroom. She also packed some of your son’s clothes. If you need anything else, I’ll send you home with a police escort.”
“Thank you, Brendan.”
“Hey, you’re an important witness.”
“It was very thoughtful.”
“I’m glad you approve. Just don’t drink too much booze from the minibar.”
“I don’t think I have the strength to open it, right now.”
“Then I’d better walk you over to the hotel.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I’m starving and we can both use some breakfast.”
Ami had not realized how hungry she was until Brendan mentioned eating. Suddenly the prospect of a decent meal and clean sheets sounded like heaven.
Outside the Justice Center commuters were drifting into downtown Portland, but the streets were still quite empty. There were no lines at the parking garages, and only a few pedestrians, many clutching steaming lattes, walked toward their office buildings. Ami paused and blinked in the sunshine. She found the cool breeze blowing inland from the Willamette River refreshing after being cooped up in the interrogation room all night.
“It feels good to move,” Brendan said.
“It would feel better to sleep.”
“I know what you mean, but I don’t think I’ll be indulging in that luxury much until we catch Rice.”
Brendan was being so nice that Ami felt guilty about not telling him that Carl and Vanessa were staying at the cabin. She had debated telling him where to find the fugitives more than once since walking into the Justice Center, but-despite what Hobson said-she believed that Carl and Vanessa had risked their lives to save her and she wasn’t prepared to give them up.
“Do you agree with Hobson’s take on what happened at my house-that Wingate sent men to rescue Vanessa and Carl killed them and the officers?”
“It makes sense.”
“Why do you think Carl let me live? Why kill Dr. French and the policemen and not me?”
“Who knows how the mind of someone with his mental wiring works? Maybe French said something that made Rice think he was working with Wingate. Maybe Rice distrusts psychiatrists but sees you as one of the good guys.”
“I guess that’s as good an explanation as any, but I still think it’s possible that he did save me. If he’s telling the truth, General Wingate has a powerful motive to kill Carl and anyone else, like George and me, who Carl told about the Unit.”
“If the Unit exists. We only have Rice’s word for that.”
Ami was too tired to argue and she was relieved when she saw the Heathman across the street. The hotel restaurant had just opened and there were only a few other diners. The hostess seated Brendan and Ami by the window and a waiter brought them water. Ami ordered a light meal and Brendan ordered pancakes.
“I want to see Ryan,” Ami said as soon as the waiter left.
“He can stay with you until it’s safe to go home. I bet he’ll get a kick out of living in a hotel for a few days.”
“He will. He’s very curious.” Ami smiled. “Sometimes he drives me crazy with all his questions.”
“I understand he was pretty upset after the game.”
“He’s better now, but it’s been tough on him. He really likes Carl and he still has nightmares about what happened. He doesn’t need more violence in his life. It took him a long time to get over the death of his father.”
“That must have been tough for both of you.”
“Chad was a great father. A great husband, too.”
Ami choked up for a moment. She was tired and it was tough to control her emotions.
“I know. Betty Sato told me,” Kirkpatrick said so that she wouldn’t have to talk about something that obviously still hurt.
“Ryan was my lifeline, Brendan. He kept me going. If he hadn’t been there I don’t know what I would have done.”
“You would have done okay. You’re tough. You don’t take shit from anyone, certainly not from me.”
He smiled. Ami thought of Brendan’s own situation, carrying on bravely despite losing someone he loved.
“How did you do it, all by yourself?”
“I put one foot in front of the other and kept walking. I’m still walking. I’m afraid to stop. I guess I don’t have to tell you.”
The waiter appeared with their order. They both looked grateful for the interruption.
“I’ll check you in after breakfast,” Brendan said as soon as they were alone. “Then I’ll arrange to have Ryan picked up from school and brought here.”
“This is awfully nice of you.”
“I’m trying to make up for the way I treated you when we first met. I feel guilty about that.”
“Yeah, you were a bit of a shit,” Ami answered with a grin. “But I forgive you.”
“Good. I don’t want you mad at me, at least, not when we’re out of court.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Carl had doubled back after laying a false trail that he hoped would lead his trackers south. From his position behind a tree several yards away, he’d heard everything that Sam Cutler said to Vanessa and he’d seen Cutler give the order to inject her.
Carl was certain that he had met Cutler twice before, only Wingate’s man had called himself Paul Molineaux during Carl’s first combat mission and the mission to rescue the MIAs. Carl debated killing Cutler and the man who was holding Vanessa, but he rejected the idea. Cutler was right. Carl was out of practice. In his twenties, he could have taken both men out with a handgun from this distance, but Vanessa might die if he couldn’t get his shots off quickly enough or-which was equally possible-if he missed. Carl decided that his best course of action was to wait until Vanessa’s guard took her to the car, but he had to reject that plan when two more men materialized at Cutler’s side.
“We lost him,” one said.
“Okay,” Sam answered. “We’ll never get him in the dark after he’s had this much time to get away. Let’s bring the General’s daughter home.”
Carl watched them go. He’d heard what Cutler had said about the tracking device. When he was certain that Cutler and his men had gone, he disabled it. As he drove, he started working on a plan for rescuing Vanessa.
Carl abandoned Vanessa’s car in a supermarket parking lot, stole a nondescript Chevrolet, and headed south using back roads. It took him a full day to drive down the coast. On the way, he listened to the radio for the political
