“There’s the hospital,” Dennie said. “Are you taking me to the ER?”
“No,” Dalton said. “Told you, that’s not an option.”
“Man, I’m in trouble. I’ve lost a lot of blood.”
“Hold on, little brother.”
Dennie moaned. “I’m trying but I don’t think I’m going to make it.” A louder groan. “Just drop me at that ER. I’ll say I accidentally shot myself or that someone tried to mug me.”
“And when they connect your blood to the stain you left on the carpet at Tommy Findley’s place? Along with four bodies? What then?”
“Jesus. I’m going to die.”
Dalton continued past the ER entrance. A block later he swung through a bank parking lot and climbed back on Main Street, heading back east.
“What are we going to do?” Jessie asked.
“If we can’t take Dennie to the hospital, maybe we can bring the hospital to him.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Dennie asked.
Dalton explained his plan.
“You think that’ll work?” Jessie asked.
Dalton shrugged. “Fifty-fifty. It either will or it won’t. Keep your fingers crossed. We’re going to need a little luck here.” The luck he didn’t believe in.
Dalton swung into the ER parking area just as a nurse walked through the double automatic doors and angled toward a gray Toyota.
“Her?” Jessie asked.
“She’ll have to do,” Dalton said.
He tapped the accelerator and the vehicle moved forward. The plan was to slide behind her vehicle until Jessie could jump out, introduce her to his Glock, and let her know what was what. The nurse, now unlocking her car door, looked over her shoulder in their direction. Dalton slowed. But before he could pull in behind her car, a better option appeared. A much better one. A doctor. Had to be. Scrubs, stethoscope draped around his neck, white coat over one arm, briefcase in his other hand. Dalton hit the brakes.
The taillights, then the backup lights of the nurse’s car snapped on and she backed out.
“She’s getting away,” Jessie said.
“Sit tight,” Dalton said.
The nurse drove by, cell phone to her ear, not paying attention to them.
“Now what?” Jessie asked.
Dalton pointed ahead. “Him.”
The doctor walked to a white Toyota Land Cruiser with North Carolina plates and unlocked the door. He placed his keys on the roof, then tugged open the back door and tossed his coat and briefcase inside. Dalton turned into the slot next to him and jumped out of the Navigator.
“Are you a doctor?” Dalton asked.
The young man looked up. “Yes.”
Jackpot. Maybe some luck was coming their way after all.
“Can you help us?” Dalton asked. “It’s my brother. He’s been injured.”
Concern settled over the doctor’s face as he walked toward him. “What is it?”
Dalton lifted the rear gate of the SUV exposing Dennie, still on his side, still clutching bloody hands to his belly. The doctor seemed to study the situation for a beat and then looked at Dalton.
“I’ll get a stretcher and get him inside.”
“I don’t think so.” Dalton raised his Glock. “Do everything I say, no questions, and this will work out for you.”
The doctor recoiled, taking a step back.
Dalton clutched his arm. “Get in.”
The doctor hesitated. “What is this?”
“My brother needs help and you got elected.”
The doctor looked back toward Dennie. “What happened?”
“Hunting accident.” Dalton pressed the muzzle against the doctor’s ribs. “No more talk. Get the fuck inside and help my brother.”
CHAPTER 8
PRESENT
“Thanks so much for calling, Mr. Cain.” Dr. Frank Buckner’s voice fell somewhere between panic and exhaustion.
“Please, call me Bobby.”
“Okay. Thanks for taking this on.”
”Hopefully we can help.”
“From what I hear, that’s a given.”
“I’m curious,” Cain said. “How did you find us?”
“Colonel Walter Fromeyer. He was a college classmate. An old friend. I didn’t know what to do. This being far away and in a small town. Probably with limited resources. I knew Wally would know how to proceed.”
Cain knew Colonel Fromeyer. From his military days. He had run a couple of Cain’s missions. Back in the day.
Buckner continued, “He told me about you. What you do. I called Mr. Milner.” He sighed. “And here we are.”
“You’re on speaker. Me and my partner, Harper McCoy. We’re leaving Nashville. Should take a couple of hours to reach Tanner’s Crossroads.”
Cain was driving. Harper held her phone, speaker mode.
“What do you know so far?” Harper asked.
“Buck—his name’s Bradley, but everyone calls him Buck—is doing temporary work in the ER over there. A locum tenens situation. Are you familiar with that?”
“We are.”
“Only been there a few days. He apparently was leaving work and was abducted at gunpoint. Taken away in an SUV or something.”
“Witnesses?”
“Only one that I know of. I got a call from the chief of police. Her name’s Cassie Crowe. She and her officers are looking for him now.”
“I take it they have no suspects?” Harper asked.
“Not when I last talked to her. An hour ago now. And they still have no clue where to look.”
“When did she first call you?” Harper asked.
“Maybe three, four hours ago.”
“The abduction was just a few hours before that? Correct?”
“That’s right. Around seven p.m. Local time.”
Cain mulled that. Witness to the kidnapping, calls cops, who call father, who tracks down Cain and Harper. All in a few hours. “That’s good,” Cain said. “Means we’re entering the fray early on. Not the next day, or the next week.”
“Was Buck injured or harmed in any way?” Harper asked.
“I don’t know. The witness couldn’t be sure.”
“Do you know if he had any issues with anyone there?”
“None. Like I said, he’s only been there a brief time. I don’t see how he could.”
“Tell us about him,” Harper said.
“Buck is a bright young man. Always near the top of his class. High school, college, med school. He attended Duke for undergrad and med school. Did a couple years of surgical residency, then left the program.”
“Why?” Cain asked.
“I wish I could answer that. Believe me, I’ve tried to fathom it. You see, I head a medical group over here near Charlotte. Multi-specialty. We have twenty-two docs now. Buck’s two older brothers and sister
