Somehow, he managed to summon the strength to rise, casting a wary glance toward the house. But there was no more shooting. Lucy retrieved his gun, just in case, and together they hobbled to the Peugeot’s passenger door. Lucy opened it, and Bryan fell inside.
The keys were in the ignition, thank God. She ran around, jumped behind the wheel, cranked up the car, backed out of the drive and screeched off. It was only when the cabin was half a mile behind them that Lucy dared to breathe a sign of relief. “We did it,” she said, feeling only a mild sense of elation. One hurdle crossed, lots more to go. “Bryan?”
He was slumped in his seat, unconscious.
Chapter 12
The moment Lucy had reached Icy Creek, she tried her phone again, and it worked perfectly. She dialed 911, and in an astonishingly short time, tons of people came to her rescue. Two off-duty paramedics were summoned to administer emergency care to Bryan while arrangements were made to airlift him to the closest trauma center, Saint Francis Hospital in Poughkeepsie.
Someone had given her a map to Poughkeepsie, and Lucy had made it there in one piece only by the grace of God, because her mind wasn’t on her driving. When she arrived, she could learn nothing about Bryan’s condition other than that he’d still been alive when he’d arrived, and he’d gone almost immediately into surgery.
During the drive, which had seemed to take hours, Lucy had made a decision.
Bryan was close to death, and she did not want him to die alone, with his family blissfully unaware of his condition. So she’d called first Daniel Elliott, then Amanda, then Scarlet. Bryan might not approve; explanations would have to be made, explanations Bryan would have just as soon skipped. But he would just have to be mad at her.
When his mother and father arrived, at virtually the same time, he was still in surgery.
“We couldn’t wait,” the young E.R. intern told them as they stood together, gripping each other’s hands. It was the first time Lucy had seen Bryan’s parents touch, or even acknowledge each other. “We’ll let you know as soon as he comes out of surgery.”
After the doctor walked away, Amanda’s face crumpled. “I never thought we’d be facing this again,” she said to Daniel.
Again? Lucy thought. Then she remembered about Bryan’s childhood illness. He’d had high-risk surgery to correct his heart defect. His parents had probably spent more time than anyone should in hospital waiting rooms.
They both turned to her. “Lindsay, can you tell us more about what happened?”
“We were in a cabin in the Catskills,” she said, choosing her words carefully.
She didn’t want to lie, not anymore. But she revealed only as much as she had to. “There was an intruder. He shot Bryan.”
“How did you escape?” Amanda asked. “Did the intruder get away? Did you call the police?”
“I honestly don’t know how or why I was spared,” Lucy said, tears pressing hot and insistent behind her eyes. “All I remember is that I got Bryan into the car and got out of there. I contacted the authorities, but I don’t know what happened to the man with the gun.”
She hoped Vargov was alive. She wanted to testify and put him in jail for the rest of his life.
“I don’t understand,” Daniel said, giving Lucy a hard look. “First someone tried to kidnap you, then you had some kind of home invasion. Are you involved with criminals?”
“Not intentionally. I’m a material witness in a criminal case.”
“But how does that involve Bryan?” Daniel wanted to know.
Amanda laid a quieting hand on her ex-husband’s arm. “I should think that would be obvious, Daniel. Our Bryan is a spy.”
Lucy gave a little gasp of surprise, but other than that she didn’t confirm or deny.
“A what?”
“I should have put it together earlier,” Amanda said. “The frequent absences, the injuries, the security measures at his apartment. And that phone of his-that’s not an ordinary cell phone.”
Daniel stared at Amanda in amazement. “You’re telling me our son is a spy? How could you know that?”
“A mother knows these things,” she said mysteriously.
Scarlet arrived with John, and then other Elliotts began trickling in. Some of them Lucy had met, some she hadn’t. But apparently, when one of their own was threatened, they banded together, because she heard none of the bickering that had characterized previous family gatherings. There were lots of hugs and tears.
Even the mysterious “Aunty Fin” showed up.
Lucy sat in a corner, feeling like the outsider she was, as Daniel and Amanda filled in family members as they arrived.
When two men in suits showed up, the mere sight of them filled Lucy with dread.
They came straight for her, as she’d known they would.
“Ms. Miller?” one of them said.
Lucy rose and walked with them into a hallway, where the Elliotts couldn’t hear the conversation.
They gave their names, claiming they were with the CIA.
“Listen, whoever you are, I don’t care if you were sent by the president himself. I know you want me to go with you. I know you want me to tell you what happened. But frankly, I don’t trust anyone right now. In the last forty- eight hours I’ve been almost kidnapped, shot at, and very nearly eaten by a bear. A United States agent tried to kill me-and he shot the man I love, who is in surgery right now fighting for his life. I’m not leaving here unless you remove me bodily from this hospital. I will report to the closest FBI field office tomorrow morning and give you and anyone who’ll listen a full report. But not tonight. Is that clear?”
The two men looked at each other as they inched away from her. “Yes, ma’am.”
And, amazingly, they left. She wouldn’t have believed that little Lucy Miller from Kansas, dressed in shorts and a tank top, could intimidate two federal agents, but apparently she had.
She returned to the waiting room to resume her vigil. Scarlet sidled up to her, giving her torn, filthy outfit, her messy hair and her scratched and scraped skin a disapproving look. “If fashion is a religion,” she said solemnly, “you’ve broken virtually every commandment.”
Bryan’s first conscious feeling was one of panic. Shots fired. Pinned down.
Pain, blood-then nothing. Lucy! Oh, God, what had happened to Lucy? Was she dead or alive?
“Lucy,” he mumbled.
Gradually sensation returned. Someone was holding his hand, but he couldn’t quite summon the strength to open his eyes.
Next he became aware of sounds and smells. Alcohol. Betadine. Sterile sheets and beeping machines.
Suddenly he was ten years old again, coming out of surgery to repair his heart.
“Bryan? Are you awake?”
It was his mother squeezing his hand. Except he wasn’t ten years old anymore.
“Lucy,” he said again. “Is Lucy okay?” He pried his eyes open to see both of his parents. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice sounding wispy and weak.
“Lindsay called us. How do you feel?”
Like his head was full of cotton and his chest full of knives. But he remembered how his mother felt every little pain right along with him, so he didn’t tell her the truth. “I’m good,” he said. And he was alive, at least, which was something. Then it sank in, what his mother had just said. “Lindsay” had called them. Lucy had at least made it off the mountain. “Is Lindsay okay?”
“She’s got a few scrapes and bruises, but she’s fine,” Amanda assured him.
“What about me?” His body didn’t feel normal, but he knew the surgical anesthesia always made him feel not quite connected to his body.
“You lost a lot of blood,” Daniel answered. “The bullet nicked an artery, but it didn’t hit any major organs. You’ll be fine.”
