The Chase

Beck hadn’t lied to Esther. He had packed the supplies to perform any number of surgeries. Unfortunately, without conclusive information from an X-ray, CT scan, or MRI, he had no clue what other trauma Dean had suffered.

As the two men across the table finally peeled back the bulletproof vest, Beck scowled. The uneven rise and fall of Dean’s chest confirmed he had a collapsed lung. Grabbing his stethoscope, Beck listened to his respiration, then quickly scrubbed in and gloved up.

After grabbing a string of rubber tubing, a couple of iodine caps, and his scalpel, he peered up at Seth. “Grab my phone from my pocket and scroll through my contacts. Find Dr. Litchfield and call him. Tell him we need a chopper to take Dean to LA stat. And ask him to reach out to Dr. Tran since he’ll need a pulmonologist, too.”

“You got it.” The big PI rounded the table, fished out the device, and got down to business.

“Is he”—River gripped the table and gulped—“going to make it?”

“Probably. He’s got at least one broken rib. I can reinflate his perforated lung and splint his arm, but beyond that...” Beck shrugged. “I don’t know what the fuck we’re dealing with.”

In the background, Beck heard Seth filling Brad Litchfield in on Dean’s condition, communicating their urgency for a medical chopper. While Seth roped Liam into supplying their exact location, Beck tilted Dean slightly onto his side and draped a couple towels beneath his torso.

The cop’s cell phone began to ring. River quickly fished out the device and answered the call. “Hey.” Pause. “No. Name’s River. Who’s this?” he asked suspiciously. “Yeah, well…you’re a little late, Jericho. The fight’s over.” River paused and mouthed FBI before glancing down at Dean. “He can’t talk right now. He’s pretty messed up. There’s a doctor working on him.”

Beck tuned out the conversation and swabbed the iodine caps over Dean’s ribs before gripping his scalpel and carefully slicing through the soft cartilage in between. Focused on working the rubber tubing through the incision, which allowed the escaped air to drain and the affected lung to reinflate, Beck barely noticed River dart into the great room. But he heard the man’s edict loud and clear.

“Stash the illegal weapons now!” River barked. “Dean’s friend from the FBI and a bunch of agents will be here in less than twenty.”

“Shit! Move, gang!” Seth shouted.

As the flurry of heavy footfalls echoed around him, Beck listened to Dean’s lungs again. Satisfied he’d been successful, he taped the tube in place and examined the angry laceration on the man’s head. After flushing the wound, Beck sterilized the site before stitching it. As he tied off another suture, he wondered how rigorous the FBI’s investigation would be. Would they realize the few legal weapons to be found wouldn’t at all match the ballistics around the scene and inside the fallen bodies? There’d be billions of questions, but at that particular moment, Beck couldn’t care.

River returned a few minutes later to clutch Dean’s hand, taking up silent sentry.

As Beck snipped off the last stitch and turned his attention to the cop’s broken arm, Seth emerged from the wine cellar and closed the door behind him.

“Everything stashed away?” Beck asked.

“As much as it can be. Now we’ll have to hope they don’t do more than a cursory search.” Seth strode toward the table. “How’s he doing?”

“Vitals are stable, but he’s still unconscious.”

The PI’s subtle nod told Beck he didn’t need to voice his worry. “The chopper should be here soon.”

Beck winced. “Christ, I haven’t had a chance to consider… Where the fuck are they planning to land? There’s nothing but hills and trees and rocks up here.”

“Buddy and River will put Dean in the back of River’s truck and drive him to the bottom of the hill. There’s a flat area, and the power lines will be well away from the rotors.”

“Thank fuck.”

“We’re going to send River on with Dean. Buddy will bring the truck back.” Seth hesitated. “But I need to talk to you about Adam.”

“Where’s his body?”

“On the porch. I don’t want Ngaire to see him like this, but we can’t tamper with a crime scene…”

Guilt sludged through Beck. There was no way for him to atone for the pain he’d caused today, but he could try to ease their suffering. “All we can do is cover his wounds.” With a last glance at Dean, he backed away. “I’ve done what I can here. Let’s go.

“Yeah. Ngaire is already asking to see him.” To say goodbye. “I saw a big blanket while I was searching for towels.”

“Grab it. I’ll meet you out front.”

When Beck glanced around the family room, Heavenly lifted her head and sent him an encouraging smile. All he wanted to do was gather her in his arms, carry her upstairs, and hold her. But he couldn’t steal selfish minutes now when those who’d risked their lives for him still needed help. Just being near her bolstered him.

With a last heartfelt stare in her direction, he stepped onto the porch.

Liam and Seth stood beside Adam’s body.