“Put her on a heart monitor and start a large bore IV.”
Another man in uniform shined a light into Jessie’s nose and mouth, assessing the damage.
“Smoke around the nostrils, but rest of upper airway is clear. Voice okay. No need to intubate this one.”
She had cuts and bruises on her body, but most critical were the head wound and smoke inhalation. Her head had been bandaged with trauma dressing, and at the hospital she’d need X rays and maybe a CAT scan to determine if she had a skull fracture.
Although Payton had been reluctant to leave her side at the makeshift triage area, he had to look for Joe and Sam, and refused medical treatment for himself until he found them. A barricade had been set up to keep nonessential personnel from getting too close to the fire. Sporadic explosions were still happening deep inside the collapsed structure. When Detective Garza arrived, he helped establish the police barricade, but the fire department was in charge of the scene—a remarkable lesson in controlled chaos.
Payton felt bombarded by the intensity of noise, even with his ears ringing and out of commission. Ambulances came and went, carrying victims. Radios crackled and blared in all directions, filtered through sirens and air horns. Shouts from firefighters and medics could be heard over the racket of generators running lights.
He’d never seen a fire up close. Firemen came in and out of the triage zone needing medical evaluation to keep going. With gear soaked and smoking, each man clamored to get back into the fight. Empty water bottles and discarded dressing wrappers littered the scene, with emergency strobe lights strafing the night sky. And across the asphalt, the fire reflected off the ponds of accumulating water, runoffs and leaks from a series of large and small hoses used by the firefighters. The smell of diesel fuel hung heavy in the air as fire engines operated on high idle, the odor competing with the smoke. Payton doubted he’d ever get the stench of smoke from his nostrils and off his hair and skin.
With all the upheaval, he had a hard time sifting through the crowd, until he found Seth. The kid helped him search the faces of the injured, hoping they’d locate Joe and Sam among them. So far that hadn’t happened. And the more time passed, the more Payton lost faith in finding them at all.
Then, silhouetted against the flames, he saw a man and a woman, walking. He couldn’t make out their faces but recognized a familiar gait and manner. He squinted into the bright light, narrowing his eyes for a better look at the pair. Slowly, he walked toward the man, not taking his eyes off him. And as he got closer, Payton started to run. By the looks of him, Joe Tanu had been hurt. He leaned on Sam Cooper, grimacing with every careful step.
“Seth!” Payton yelled over his shoulder, slowing down as he got close. “They’re alive.”
Then he muttered under his breath, “Damn it! They’re alive.”
Joe was in pain but looked damned glad to be on the right side of the turf. A regular sight for sore stinging eyes. Payton hugged him, fighting the lump in his throat. And as he held Joe, he whispered in his ear, “Good to see you, old man.”
“I thought I’d lost you too.”
Payton’s eyes brimmed with tears as he hugged the man he thought of as his father. When he pulled back, he looked down at Sam and kissed her cheek.
“Thanks…for everything.”
The detective smiled. “How’s Jessie?” she asked.
“She’s over here, Sam,” Seth cut in, then led them to the tarp where he’d last seen her.
Joe needed help to the triage area, and Payton lent a hand, setting him down on a tarp close to Jessie as Sam knelt and took her friend’s hand. Jessie opened her eyes and started to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.
“Don’t try to speak, Jess. You’re going to be okay.”
Jess shook her head and tried again, this time reaching for Payton. Her urgency caught him by surprise. He turned from Joe and leaned closer, clasping her trembling hand.
“You don’t know me, but my name is Payton. I—”
“I know…who you are.” She swallowed and pulled down her oxygen mask, wincing at the pain when she lifted her head. “I found…Nikki.”
At first he thought he hadn’t heard right, but his confusion was quickly replaced by urgent concern.
“What? She was in there?” He squeezed her hand when she started to fade. “Did you talk to her? Is that how you knew it was her?”
He had bombarded her with too many questions. And he wasn’t sure she heard him until she spoke again.
“I found Nikki. Did I already say that?”
“Yeah, you did,” he replied, recognizing her confusion. He’d seen it on the football field, when a guy got his bell rung.
“Here…take these.” She fumbled for something under her blanket, then retrieved crumpled and bloodied papers, and thrust them at him. “Keep ’em. I’ll explain…when I can.”
Turning her attention to Sam, she insisted, “Don’t let anyone take ’em. We need to know…” She laid her head back down, unable to finish.
“But they’re evidence, Jess,” Sam said. “We need to process the paper for fingerprints.”
“Then please…promise me you’ll make a copy…for me,” Jessie persisted, with a crazed look in her eye.
Sam gave in, reassuring her, “I promise, we’ll process the originals, but you’ll get a copy. You’ve got my word, honey.”
“What’s this?” Payton glanced at the pages in his hands before he handed them over to Sam. “And what does it have to do with Nikki?”
“I found her…Nikki.” Jessie struggled to tell him more. “The Russian. He left her…in the control room.” She choked and nearly lost it. A paramedic rushed over to adjust her oxygen mask, but she held him off until she finished. “She was…unconscious.”
Jessie was practically delirious from head trauma, leaving him to wonder. Had she only imagined seeing Nikki?
“No, that can’t be,” he insisted, but doubt crept into his mind. “I was there.”
Had he checked the control room well enough? Had he somehow missed her? The possibility that he didn’t see Nikki through all the smoke made him sick. He stared off toward the burning building and shook his head in disbelief.
“This can’t be right…we looked.” A tear drained down his cheek. He couldn’t breathe. “Dear God, she can’t still be in there.”
In that moment, his world stopped. The noise and the fire, everything faded to a pervasive emptiness—a hollow no one could fill. Sam reached for him, and he became aware of Joe’s voice, but nothing sank in.
CHAPTER 21
University of Chicago Hospital
All hospitals smelled the same to Payton—a medicinal tang mixed with odors he didn’t want identified. Joe Tanu had been admitted to an area medical center with burns and a broken leg that required surgery. Med staff had him hooked to an IV and a machine for him to administer a dose of morphine at the push of a button. His leg had been propped up and bandaged. Between the flight from Alaska and what happened last night, neither one of them had gotten much sleep over the last two days. It was beginning to show.
As Joe rested in a fitful sleep, Payton kept watch in a chair by his bed, dosing himself with bad coffee laced with liquor from the minibar at his Oak Brook hotel room. He’d cleaned out the stash of tiny bottles and brought a handful with him after making a taxi run to his hotel to clean up and scour the grime off. Even though he’d taken a long shower, he still smelled the smoke from last night. And unfortunately, looking more human, he got attention from hospital staff and others after he returned to the medical complex. Many recognized him from the time he’d played for the Chicago Bears. It surprised him to see how many remembered him in a favorable light, but the critical armchair sports fanatics were more vocal than casual fans.
He had too much on his mind to care one way or the other. He had copies of the pages Jessie Beckett had given him at the textile plant fire, and while Joe was in surgery, Sam made sure he got a set for Jessie. By the look
