And that triumph paled in comparison to what it was going to feel like to make sure Sophia Reilly got to see tomorrow morning’s sunrise.
CHAPTER 48
Reilly must have lost consciousness after Veck got her down from the chains in the cave, because when she came to again, there were red lights flashing all around and she was stretched out on something relatively soft.
“Veck . . . ?”
“Ma’am?”
Definitely not Veck’s voice. Frowning, she forced her eyes to try to focus . . . and got the blurry picture of an EMT leaning over her.
“Ma’am? What’s your name?”
He did it, she thought. Veck had somehow gotten them out.
“Ma’am? Can you hear me?”
“Reilly. Sophia . . . Reilly.”
“Do you know what year it is?” After she told him, there were a couple more how-many-of-your-marbles- have-you-lost questions.
“Where is . . . Veck?” Why the hell wouldn’t her eyes work—
A brilliant light exploded on one side of her vision. “Hey!”
“Just checking your pupils again, ma’am.”
She fought to bring her hand up, and found that they’d run an IV into her arm vein.
“We’d like to take you to St. Francis,” the man said. “You’re on the verge of shock, you may need a transfusion, and you have a concussion.”
“Where is . . .”
She turned her head . . . and there he was.
Veck was standing off to the side, just on the verge of being outside of the light thrown by the open double doors of the ambulance. His forearms were crossed in front of his chest and he was staring at the ground at his feet. He looked like he had been through a war, big patches of sweat staining his shirt, his pants splashed with dirt and ripped in places, his hair sticking straight up. Dimly, she had to wonder where his windbreaker had gone.
A CPD officer with an open pad was next to him, obviously taking a statement, and there were several members of Search and Rescue who looked like they were about to go down into the quarry.
To get Bails, no doubt.
Veck was shaking his head. Then nodding. Then speaking.
Tears cheated her of the sight of him.
He had carried her out of there. And he had done the right thing . . . he was not a killer at heart.
As if he felt her eyes on him, he lifted his stare and met her own: Instantly, she was back to that night in the woods, when they had looked at each other over Kroner’s body.
When he seemed to hesitate, as if unsure of whether she’d want him, she tried to reach out her hand. “Veck . . .”
He took a step forward. Then another.
The police officer let him go and the medic got out of the way and then he was beside her in a rush, taking her palm in a squeeze that faded to a gentle holding.
“How you doing?” he asked in a ragged voice, as if he had screamed a lot, or maybe panted like a racehorse getting her up the rough slope.
“Head . . .” She tried to lift her free hand and found that her arm weighed four hundred pounds. “You? Are you . . .”
“Fine.”
He didn’t look fine. He looked gaunt and washed-out. Matter of fact, if it had been any other man, she would have said that he was . . . lost.
“Bails,” she said, and then tried to swallow. Her throat was so dry, she felt like she had been in a forest fire, breathing smoke. “He shot himself—”
“Don’t worry about—”
“Shh—”
“He was at the prison. For your father. He was . . .” An abiding cynicism eclipsed Veck’s exhaustion. “One of the legions.”
“I know . . . you didn’t plant the earring. Bails . . . Had to have been him. He shot himself . . . in front of me. . . .”
“None of that matters—”
“I’m sorry.” Those damn tears returned, but she did nothing to stop them. “I’m so very sorry—”
“Shh.” He placed his fingertip on her lips. “Let’s get you out of here.”
“You already did.”
“Not far enough.”
For a long moment, they just stared at each other.
“I’ll call your parents.” He brushed her hair back. “And tell them to meet you at the hospital.”
“And what about youhS”
“I’ll make sure they’re there.” He stepped back and glanced at the medic. “You’d better get going.”
Not a request. A demand.
“Veck . . . ?” she whispered.
His eyes avoided hers. “I’ll call your parents.”
As she started to try to sit up, the medic and his partner began rolling her to their vehicle. Meanwhile, Veck just took another step back.
There was a bump and a smoother roll as she was packed inside.
“I love you,” she shouted as loud as she could. Which turned out to not be very loud.
The last thing she saw before the doors were shut was Veck’s expression of pain . . . and then him slowly shaking his head back and forth . . . back and forth.
Good-bye, she realized in a cold rush, didn’t have to be spoken in order to be real.
Veck breathed in sweet diesel fumes as the ambulance trundled off the shoulder and onto the dirt road that led away from the quarry. As it took off, its engine growled loud and then settled into a softer hum that gradually disappeared.
“Detective?” his fellow CPDer said behind him. “I just have a couple more questions.”
Good luck with that, he thought. He wasn’t sure he could remember how to speak English.
“When you arrived, Bails was holding Officer Reilly—”
“She was strung up,” he gritted. “By the wrists.”
“And then what happened. After you arrived.”
Yeah, how to explain all that. “I was set up . . . to kill her.”
“Officer Reilly?”
“Yes.”
“But why?”
In this he could tell the truth: “Because like everyone else . . . he wondered how much like my father I am. I disappointed him. Gravely.”
Might as well leave out the woman. Obviously, she didn’t really exist—at least, not in the conventional, 3-D, police-report kind of way.
