“Can you carry him?” Natasha asked.
Mayes knelt, picked Ward McCarty up from the floor, and carried him. Passing the front door he began to run, with Alice and Natasha at his side. Natasha had the defibrillator case under her arm.
“Stay with us, Ward,” the FBI agent said.
The man put Ward in the rear of his car, then ran around and pulled him completely inside.
Natasha climbed in the backseat and kneeled on the floorboard. The agent slammed the doors and, as Alice Palmer climbed into the passenger seat, he placed a blue light on the dashboard, flipped it on, and roared out in reverse, turning the heavy sedan out onto the road. He jerked the shifter down and peeled rubber heading down the highway. A mile down the road, he picked up his phone and dialed 911 without looking.
“Please hurry,” Natasha commanded.
“I'm hurrying as fast as I can,” he replied, the speedometer passing rapidly through eighty miles an hour.
“Don't you like have a siren?” Alice asked him. And she realized, to her amazement, that she was crying.
EIGHTY
When Ward opened his eyes slowly, the first thing he saw was Natasha, sitting beside the bed holding his left hand.
“Welcome back,” she said, wiping away a tear from her cheek.
He turned his head the other way to see Alice Palmer asleep in the reclining chair by the window. There were small droplets of blood, like freckles, dotting her lax features.
A tall, stooped man in whites, with a gleaming bald head, finished checking the machines. Ward looked across the bed, fixing him in his gaze. He recognized the man, but couldn't seem to remember his name.
“Ward, you're in the hospital and you're fine. Don't try to talk. You need to rest and gain your strength. Your injuries are very serious, but you're going to be fine.”
Ward tried to speak, but all that came out was a croak.
“Don't try to talk,” Natasha said. “You're safe. We're all safe.”
“I was dead,” Ward managed to say. “I was with Barney,” he told her. “I really was.”
“Your heart stopped,” Natasha told him. “But just for a few seconds.”
“I saw…” Ward started. “I saw you put the garbage bag around me. I was watching from…” He tried to point up, to remember more, and did. “I was with Barney and I saw you leaning over me trying to help me.”
Natasha's perplexed expression reflected confusion, but he was sure she believed him.
“You have to get some rest. You can tell me about it later.”
“We repaired everything, Ward,” the doctor said. “You're stable, and your vitals are getting stronger by the minute.”
“Thank, you, Scott,” he said, his voice cracking with gratitude. Scott Boggs was the doctor's name and his son had played Little League with Barney. Ward's right hand was throbbing and he looked down at the encasing bandage. He remembered the knife. “My hand…”
“There's extensive damage to your hand. Dr. Levingston, our orthopedist, took a look at it, and he's going to operate to reattach the tendons when you're stronger. Hopefully the nerves will grow back together in time.”
“I understand,” Ward said. “Thank you, Scott.”
Boggs put a hand on Ward's shoulder and squeezed gently. “You are so welcome, Ward. Mind your wife and get some rest. We'll manage the pain, and get you back on your feet in no time.”
“It could use some pain management,” he said.
“We're on top of it,” Natasha said.
A nurse had come in and Natasha stepped back to let her take her place. The nurse raised a syringe, looked at it, and inserted it into the IV tube culminating under the bandage on Ward's hand. As she depressed the syringe, Ward felt a cool sensation in his right hand as the pain faded.
He was aware of Natasha kissing him on the cheek as he floated away.
EIGHTY-ONE
Outside the overcast sky was cooling the summer air, and a pair of deer grazed without fear on grass near the tree line. FBI Agent John Mayes stood in the McCartys’ den watching the FBI's crime scene technicians gathering evidence. The case wasn't federal, but Mayes had decided that the least the FBI could do was process the scene to make sure things were done right, and the local authorities would be able to close the case as soon as possible.
He turned to see into the kitchen where Dr. McCarty sat looking out the window, her hand trembling as she brought a bottle of water to her lips. The rectangular bandage that covered the sutured knife wound on her neck was visible- that would be lasting evidence of the events of the night before.
Alice Palmer sat on a stool beside Natasha, playing her video game, lost in her own thoughts. The odd young girl had killed an extremely dangerous man, and had she not done so, she and the McCartys would be dead. And maybe he would have even killed Mayes.
The sheriff's deputy had driven the women back to the house. Mayes had arrived a few minutes earlier, so the two could give their official statements. Mayes and Firman would get Ward McCarty's side when he was no longer in and out from painkillers.
Alice had remained at Dr. McCarty's side, and she'd been a comfort through the long morning hours while Ward McCarty had been in surgery.
Dr. McCarty locked eyes with Mayes. She smiled weakly and nodded at him. She'd gone without sleep since the morning before, had gone through hell the night before, and had been in the OR observing her husband's touch-and- go surgery until ten that morning. She had only left him after he was out of surgery and had spoken to her. Despite the circles under her eyes, they remained bright, though worried.
John Mayes closed his notebook and signaled Bill Firman. Together, they walked into the kitchen.
Alice broke her concentration on the tiny screen to look up as they entered. Just for a second, though. The girl seemed no worse for the ordeal she'd been through, but he thought she might be in shock.
“Alice, this is FBI Agent Bill Firman,” Natasha said.
“Okay,” Alice said.
“This won't take long,” Mayes told the women.
“That's fine,” Natasha told him. “I'd like to get cleaned up and get back to the hospital as soon as possible.”
“Me, too,” Alice said, without looking up. “I stink like a pig.”
Alice's video game emitted a series of musical notes and she smiled broadly before turning the screen toward Dr. McCarty
“I beat it,” she said, proudly.
“That's good, Alice,” Dr. McCarty told her, smiling.
Alice turned the machine off and placed it on the counter. “You can give it to one of your sick kids or something.”
“I had your car pulled out of the hole. You can go whenever you like,” Mayes said.
Alice shrugged. “I told my mother I'd come home tomorrow. I thought I'd stay around to keep Natasha company-if she wants me to, I mean.”
Dr. McCarty placed her hand on the girl's. “That's absolutely fine. My parents are coming in tomorrow, but until they get here, I could use the company.”
Alice beamed.
“Dr. McCarty,” Mayes said. “We need to get an official statement if you feel up to it.”
