Chapter Twenty-Eight
Pandemonium.
Mike made it to the porch, leapt onto it in one stride, and felt his knees creak and snap as they took his weight. He almost fell, but grabbed a railing, regained his balance, and pushed his way through the swarm of men. He scanned the area for Caitlin.
“Rafferty!” Mike stopped and turned toward the handcuffed man, not looking so threatening in his restraints. “She’s a redheaded she-devil, that bitch.” Then Schwartz grinned, a twisted parody of the worst kind of evil. “But I had her.”
Mike’s hands fisted. “Shut up, Schwartz. I’ll see you rot in hell,” he shot back as two officers shoved Ivan toward a waiting squad car.
Not waiting for permission, he entered the room. Acrid tear gas permeated the air. Once his eyes adjusted to the stinging air and the gloom, he spotted Vince and three other men. They bent over Caitlin like hovering angels in black uniforms. Vince’s jacket covered her. One man appeared to be kissing her, one held a fragile looking, bloodied limp wrist. Mike spotted a third man, his hands carefully placed on Caitlin’s chest. That man carried out a rhythmic thumping on her while he counted cadence.
CPR.
“No!” His heart lurched inside him as he scrambled toward the couch. He searched Vince’s face. “She’s not…?”
“No,” Vince rasped.
Mike heard sirens, close now; then they stopped. Seconds later, heavy footsteps raced across the porch. Carrying medical equipment, three paramedics rushed through the front door. Vince moved aside as they took over, replacing the SWAT members at their tasks. Oxygen, a hurried assessment of Caitlin’s condition, a quick rundown taken from the SWAT crew, and then a radio call to the emergency room. The EMTs raced through procedures to save Caitlin from whatever was wrong.
The dingy room quickly filled up. A gurney appeared. The young resident with the paramedics removed a hypodermic syringe from his bag, prepared it and Caitlin for its contents. To Mike the needle looked lethal; he flinched as the resident injected it straight into her heart. The paramedics’ quiet, running commentary kept the people in the room abreast of what was being done and what they should do.
The organized confusion drowned Mike into his deepest fears. What exactly had happened to Caitlin? Mike asked whoever came near him. No one gave him any answers.
After what had to be a thousand hours, the paramedics lifted Caitlin from the broken down sofa, never exposing her body, placed her on the gurney, and whisked her from the room. Within seconds, the siren again wailed and the ambulance sped away. With Caitlin gone, the room emptied.
Despite the team’s quickness in moving her, Mike had noticed Caitlin’s tattered clothes, the blood on her arms. Growling, he turned to Vince. “What the hell happened? Don’t sugarcoat it for me.”
Vince guided him toward the door, now torn off its hinges. They were the last ones left in the foul smelling room. “Don’t know all of it yet, Mike. Come on, we’ll talk in the squad car on the way to the hospital. When Caitlin comes around, she’ll want to see you there.”
****
Vince drove to the hospital in record time. A siren and blinking lights had advantages. On the way, he explained to Mike what facts he knew. That information proved too scant to suit him.
Four SWAT men had rushed Ivan from the back entrance after the tear gas. Three of the SWAT team members subdued him. That hadn’t been easy. The whole time the officers spent cuffing and reading him his rights he raved about being beaten by a woman as he bellowed like a castrated bull.
The fourth SWAT officer had rushed to Caitlin. He found her unconscious, bleeding from several wounds, and her clothing slashed to pieces.
“Had Schwartz…?” Mike fought to control his fury. Instead, he slapped his hand against the dashboard.
Vince shrugged his shoulders. “She was unconscious and Schwartz stayed mute. We’ll find out at the hospital when the ER staff runs a rape kit. That’s standard in situations like this. What we do know is she was unconscious, barely breathing, her clothes were in threads, and she looked like she might have been beaten with all those bruises and knife cuts.” Vince glanced sideways at Mike. “I’m sorry.”
He shifted uncomfortably. “Torn clothes…he must have…”
“Don’t go there. Focus on what we know. Judging from Schwartz’s ravings outside, we can’t even begin to determine what happened. Not yet. Not till Caitlin tells us.”
“Why’s she unconscious? We heard her screams. She had a reason for that.”
“Only the doctors can tell us why she’s unconscious now. We wait until she wakes up for the rest.” Vince shrugged his shoulders and pulled into the emergency entrance. Neither spoke while he parked in a designated parking space.
“Those doctors better have some facts pretty damn soon,” Mike muttered as he headed toward the reception desk.
“You better prepare yourself. The doctors might not even talk with you regarding her condition. You’re not a spouse, relative, or investigating officer.”
Vince identified himself to the clerk behind the emergency room reception desk. He asked about Caitlin Donnelly and where she had been brought. The woman directed them down the hall where several people milled about, including the officers from inside the farmhouse who had found Caitlin.
“Why don’t you call Pat and Jan? They can let the family know. Call Rachel, too. I’ll let you know what I find out.” Vince turned toward his officers standing in the hall.
Once he finished the phone calls, Mike ambled toward Vince, still standing with other officers in the hallway. Soon the place would be filled with Caitlin’s family and Rachel. Feeling like a selfish jerk, Mike figured he’d never get to Caitlin through her family and friends.
He reached Vince. “What’s the word?”
“A team of doctors is working on her. They’ve called in a heart specialist. That’s all we know right now. Why don’t you have a seat over there? I need to finish giving these guys orders.”
Feeling like a schoolboy dismissed by the principal, Mike trudged across the waiting room and sat down. He observed Vince and his men. Each had a clear function for which he envied them.
In a few moments, they disbanded and Vince walked across the hall to the coffee machine to get two cups of coffee. Then he shuffled toward Mike, handing him a steaming paper cup.
“Things are breaking quickly at headquarters. I’ll stay only until I can talk with the doctor. The guys are questioning Schwartz right now. Seems he’s singing quite a tune. Clicked off his mute button once he got in the interrogation area. I expect he’s looking for a deal.”
“Don’t do it, Vince.”
“That’s not my call. Times like this I wish it were. But we should have the whole story pieced together soon, if we get the truth.”
As Mike listened to Vince, his gut twisted. “Why the heart specialist?”
“She might have had what they’re calling a ’cardiac incident’ while Ivan had her.”
“Cardiac incident? What the hell does that mean?”
Vince clapped his shoulder. “It’s something to ask the doctors, Mike. For now, focus on the fact Caitlin’s tough. She’ll make it.”
“She better.” He bowed his head and waited, but not before he saw Vince closing his eyes. He was shutting down, too.
Within an hour Rachel and Jan had arrived, and Pat was on his way from work.
“I persuaded Mom and Dad to wait by the phone instead of here. I’ll get them later, once we know something.”
Rachel comforted her. “Caitlin always says you’re a miracle worker, Jan.”
“Some days the miracles come easier,” Jan admitted and sank into a chair.
The four of them waited, not talking much, just staring at the boring walls and listening to the pages and codes along with the squishy squeak of rubber-soled shoes. Twenty minutes later, Pat rushed in. “She’s okay?” he directed his breathless questions to Vince.
“We’re waiting for the doctor. What I can say is she’s alive,” Vince answered.
A slow grin spread across Pat’s face at the news. “I’ll bet she beat the crap out of the bastard.” Then he plunked himself down in the chair next to Jan and pulled her into his side.
Mundane tasks filled their time. Rachel made a coffee run. Vince called the station. Jan worked a number puzzle. Mike stared straight ahead, a year old sports magazine lying unread on his lap. Pat paced. Mike would have, but his knees protested his earlier run to the farmhouse. In those endless minutes, he thought only of Caitlin’s piercing scream.
“What did you hear when she screamed, Vince?” Mike could stand it no longer. Since not much had been said about what had happened at the deserted farm, all eyes and ears tuned to them.
“Your name, Mike. That’s what she screamed.”
“Damn, that’s what I thought. Do you think she sensed I was there? And not helping?” He groaned and ran his fingers through his hair.
“Don’t you go getting all weird on us, Mike,” Pat cautioned. “I don’t want this being any crazier than it is.”
Rachel moved toward Mike, took his hand, and pressed it to her cheek. “She knew you were always trying to help her, Mike. Maybe calling your name proves thoughts of you were helping her get through what was happening.”
“Thoughts weren’t much help to her,” he muttered, “but thanks.”
Rachel patted his hand and turned to Vince. “You may be on duty, Detective Bertoli, but I need to hug you for saving my boss.” She leaned into him and held him close. “I love you.”
Vince wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck. “I needed that more than you know.”
After a few moments, she gave him a second hug. “Me, too; thank you.” She patted his back and slipped from his arms.
Not two minutes later, the doors to the trauma room opened. Three figures dressed in scrubs emerged and talked quietly among themselves for a few seconds. Then one detached himself and headed toward the waiting area. The other two entered an elevator.
“Detective Bertoli?”
“I’m Bertoli.” Vince stood with his hand extended.
“I’m Dr. Mandel. Is Ms. Donnelly’s family here?”
With a sweep of his hand, Vince pointed to the anxious group. “Her family…”
“Good, I can say this once.” The doctor pulled up a chair. Vince did the same. “She will live…”