Kara jumped straight up, grabbed the pitcher off the bedside table and hurled it across the bed at him, yelling at the top of her lungs. An arc of water splashed on the man, and the pitcher hit him square in the chest. He leaped back, cursing, but came at her. She reared back and smashed her fist into his chest, sending him reeling off-balance, and the syringe went flying. She grabbed a chair and kept yelling, screaming, until finally he cursed and ran from the room.
When Savich and Sherlock burst into John Doe’s room fifteen minutes later, Kara was still holding him pressed against her. Two nurses, an orderly, and two security guards were trying to reassure her the danger was over, that she could let him go, but she was refusing, repeating over and over he wasn’t safe, until she saw Sherlock.
Sherlock made her way through the crowd, held out her hand to Kara, and gently pulled her away. She held her close, whispered, “It’s all right now, it’s over.” She eased her back. “Tell me what happened, Kara.”
Kara drew a steadying breath. “A man came into the room dressed like a doctor or a nurse. Sherlock, he was holding a syringe in his hand and he was going to inject something in his IV line. I knew he was going to kill him. Officer Rickman never came. Where was he?”
An excellent question. Sherlock cupped Kara’s shocked white face between her hands, kept her voice calm, matter-of-fact. “But you stopped him, Kara. You saved him, all by yourself. You are very brave. When John Doe wakes up, I’ll tell him all about how you saved his life.”
Sherlock saw Dillon on the phone and looked around for the Metro night guard, Rickman. She asked the night nursing supervisor checking John Doe’s vitals, “Have you seen the police officer assigned to guard John Doe?”
Nurse Ellerby cocked her head. “I don’t understand. You didn’t know? He got a phone call an hour ago, said he was told to go home, that he was off duty because John Doe was an FBI case now. He stopped by the desk to tell us Ms. Moody was with John Doe.”
Savich came over to Sherlock and Nurse Ellerby. He knew who had called off the guard. He felt such rage at Mayer it was a good thing for Mayer that he wasn’t there. He’d bet Mayer had been watching baseball, drinking a beer, when he’d decided this was how he’d get back at Savich, not a thought in his head about John Doe’s safety.
Of course Mayer hadn’t called Savich, but he had to know he could be in real trouble if he didn’t make any effort to contact him. Savich scrolled quickly through his emails. Sure enough, there was a late email to him from the CAU secretary, Shirley, informing him Detective Mayer from Metro had awakened her, told her she needed to let Savich know that since John Doe was an FBI case now, he was pulling the Metro officer off guard duty.
Savich was still so angry, his hand was shaking as he punched in Jimmy Maitland’s number. It was nearly two o’clock in the morning. Maitland answered on the third ring, sounding like a bear pulled out of hibernation. “What’s the matter?”
Savich told him what Mayer had pulled, and what had happened, which brought Maitland straight out of bed. Maitland’s anger was legendary, and Savich found it calmed him knowing his boss would see Mayer got what he deserved. Should he suggest that a firing squad sounded good? If not a firing squad, then a solid street fight, nothing off-limits. Maitland asked for more details, then said, “I’ll have two agents guarding John Doe around the clock, beginning now.”
He looked up to see Kara and Sherlock standing over John Doe, Kara holding his limp hand. He heard her say, “He’s so very quiet.” She looked over at Savich. “When that man came in I saw he wasn’t wearing rubber-soled shoes and knew something was very wrong. And that the police officer was gone.”
Sherlock hugged Kara to her side. “Believe me, that won’t happen again.”
Sherlock saw Dillon slowly nod. She saw the pulse pounding in his throat, knew something bad had happened that had made him really angry. It had to do with the missing guard.
20
DANIEL BOONE NATIONAL FOREST
EARLY TUESDAY MORNING
Cam heard a noise, only a slight rustling sound, and instantly awoke, her Glock in her hand. She looked through the netting of her bivvy sack into the darkness and made out a man’s shadowed face inches from her nose. She almost screamed.
“Morning, Special Agent, it’s me, Jack. Time to rise and shine.”
She wanted to clock him for scaring her. “I could have shot you, idiot.” She couldn’t see his expression in the dark, he’d turned away to wake up Chief and Duke. There was an urgency, a near crackling of energy in him, and she felt herself responding to it. Jack turned on his headlight. “I’ve checked; there’s no one nearby,” he said. “Safe to use these now. There’ll be enough light in about fifteen minutes to look for their tracks.”
After an oatmeal and coffee breakfast and a quick wash in the cold creek, they moved out along Denny Branch, slowing now and then to walk upslope in search of tracks. Even close to the creek, where they believed Manta Ray’s group should have passed, they had to slow enough to study the terrain for any sign of another human’s passing. They finished off their breakfasts with power bars and drank from their canteens as the temperature slowly climbed under a brilliant morning sun. They saw deer, a fox, and three squirrels staring down on them from a dogwood branch, but no tracks.
At eight o’clock straight up, Jack peeled off one more time away from the creek and upslope into the trees. He saw a set of boot prints and a crushed shrub. He felt a surge of excitement, called out, “Come look.”
They gathered around Jack, saw the boot prints heading east. “They’ve been walking up here, parallel to the creek.”
“I wasn’t expecting that,” Duke said. “Still, I guess it makes sense. It’s an easier route, with enough cover to reduce the chance of being seen. You’re right, Jack, they’re going east, up toward the ridge. I hope they don’t hook up with a hiker trail. What made you come this far up, Jack?”
Jack never looked up from the tracks. “We should have seen their tracks by now if they’d been hiking along the creek.” He shaded his eyes, looked upward. “I can’t see them going all the way up to the ridge, though, unless they have to for some reason we don’t know.” He pointed. “See how one set of prints is weighted on the right foot. I think Manta Ray is limping in those new hiking boots. The other two tracks show an even stride, and they’re taking their time.” Jack looked over at Cam, grinned. “We’re going to catch them.”
Duke had walked ahead, studying the tracks. “My guess is they passed here before dark last night. They had to come down close to the creek to get a quicker crossing over to Indian Creek Road—that’s Highway 490. They’ll have wanted to get over it as close to dark as possible, less chance of being seen. Once they got past there, they’d be in less-populated country, and that’s where they’ll have stopped for the night.” Duke rose, wiped his hands on his pants. “If we hurry it up, we’ll get to Highway 490 in about fifteen minutes.”
“Let’s make it ten,” Jack said. “From here it’ll be easy to keep the tracks in sight.” He took the lead, jogging at a smooth, steady pace.
Ten minutes later, they reached Rockcastle River, and once across, they reached Highway 490. They saw one car cruise by but no one else, no campers, no hikers, only a lone doe leading her fawn across the road.
Jack pulled out the sat phone, handed it to Duke. “Time to contact your rangers, tell them we’ve tracked them to the highway and we’ll be picking up their trail on the other side. Chief, go ahead and check in with your deputies, tell them we’re going to be moving north from the highway. They need to focus their patrols on the roads they can get to north of here.”
After Chief and Duke took turns with the sat phone, they crossed the highway to find the trail again. It was the same kind of terrain, shrubby, with sparse trees, an occasional maple thicket. They walked along the creek, where the trees and vegetation grew thicker. Still no tracks.