“No. Carl told me about that mission. He was very brave…”
“That’s true, but a lot of brave men have breakdowns after combat situations. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. For Carl, though…Well, I’m no shrink, but I guess he made up this fantasy world with this secret unit so he could handle it. He was at the language school until the army discovered how sick he really is and discharged him.”
“No. Those army records are false. My father made them up,” Vanessa said, but some doubt had softened her conviction.
“Look, we really don’t have time to discuss this now. Carl Rice is out there and he’s armed. He killed two policemen and two of my men at your house. I’ve got to get you to safety before he hurts you or any more of my men. So where is he?”
Vanessa was confused, but she was determined to protect Carl.
“I have no idea where Carl is. We split up. I told him to go. I knew I’d slow him down.”
Cutler studied her for a moment and Vanessa held her breath.
“Okay, I believe you,” Cutler said. “Carl’s got to be out of practice. My boys will find him soon enough.”
Sam looked at the man who was holding Vanessa. “Bring her to the car, and I’ll join the hunt.”
“How did you find us?” Vanessa asked to stall for time, knowing that every minute might help Carl get away.
“You made it easy. Remember when you called me from your hotel to tell me that you were okay?”
Vanessa nodded.
“After you hung up I hit Star 69 and read out your number. A pleasant young woman told me that I had reached the Portland Hilton. Once I knew where you were, one of my men followed you to your car and put a tracking device on it.”
“So that’s how you knew we were on that logging road behind Ami’s house,” Vanessa said.
Instead of answering, Sam Cutler nodded to the man who was holding Vanessa and she felt a needle prick her skin. She wanted to ask Sam what he’d done, but the words wouldn’t come. Seconds later, she was unconscious in her captor’s arms
Vanessa was semiconscious and disoriented when the car stopped. She thought she heard a small plane engine but couldn’t be certain that she wasn’t imagining the sound. The back door of the car opened. Cool air swept in and swept away a little more of the drug’s effects. Before she could gather her wits, strong hands grabbed her and she was lifted out of the car. She stood unsteadily and looked around. The sun was just rising behind a hangar at a small airport. Several yards across the tarmac stood a black helicopter with a Computex logo.
“She’s coming out of it,” said the man who was propping her up.
“That’s okay,” Sam Cutler answered. “She’s still too groggy to cause trouble. I’ll give her a booster shot before we take off.”
Vanessa was led across the tarmac. As she was lifted into the copter, Cutler pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and punched in a number.
“Mission accomplished,” he told the person on the other end of the line. “See you tomorrow.”
Cutler jumped into the copter and took the seat beside Vanessa.
“Where are we going?” she mumbled as Cutler strapped her in.
“Home,” Sam answered. Then Vanessa felt a needle prick her skin and once again she slid into a velvet darkness that lifted hours later when the chopper set down on the helipad at her father’s estate. Moments later, she was helped out of the plane and led across the lawn to the rear of the mansion. She knew she was home, but it felt as if she were dreaming.
“We’ve got a room waiting for you,” Cutler said as he helped her up the back staircase to the second floor and down the hall to a room that had been used by the maids when her mother was alive. The General’s staff was all male and former military.
“Your father is campaigning in Cleveland,” Sam said as he took off her clothes and put her into a pair of pajamas. She vaguely recognized them as nightclothes she’d worn when she still lived at home. “He’ll be here tomorrow and you two can get reacquainted. He’s really worried about you.”
Sam lifted the covers and helped Vanessa under them. It felt so good to lie down on soft sheets. Sam whispered, “Get a good rest, Van.” Then there was another needle prick and the door closed. Vanessa heard a lock click into place. The last thought she had before she drifted off was that her father had kept her pajamas all these years.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
It was almost six-thirty when the strategy session ended at police headquarters. Adrenaline had kept Ami alert for hours, but Brendan Kirkpatrick saw her eyelids droop and her head nod more than once.
“You must be wasted,” he said.
“It’s starting to catch up with me,” she conceded with a weary smile.
“I’ve arranged a room for you at the Heathman,” Brendan said, naming a fine hotel that was only a few blocks from the Justice Center.
Ami looked alarmed. “I can’t afford to stay there.”
“Don’t worry. The county is paying the tab until we’re sure that it’s safe for you and your son to go home. I also asked a policewoman to pick up some of your clothes from your house. They’re in your hotel room along with your toothbrush, a comb and brush, and some other stuff from your bathroom. She also packed some of your son’s clothes. If you need anything else, I’ll send you home with a police escort.”
“Thank you, Brendan.”
“Hey, you’re an important witness.”
“It was very thoughtful.”
“I’m glad you approve. Just don’t drink too much booze from the minibar.”
“I don’t think I have the strength to open it, right now.”
“Then I’d better walk you over to the hotel.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I’m starving and we can both use some breakfast.”
Ami had not realized how hungry she was until Brendan mentioned eating. Suddenly the prospect of a decent meal and clean sheets sounded like heaven.
Outside the Justice Center commuters were drifting into downtown Portland, but the streets were still quite empty. There were no lines at the parking garages, and only a few pedestrians, many clutching steaming lattes, walked toward their office buildings. Ami paused and blinked in the sunshine. She found the cool breeze blowing inland from the Willamette River refreshing after being cooped up in the interrogation room all night.
“It feels good to move,” Brendan said.
“It would feel better to sleep.”
“I know what you mean, but I don’t think I’ll be indulging in that luxury much until we catch Rice.”
Brendan was being so nice that Ami felt guilty about not telling him that Carl and Vanessa were staying at the cabin. She had debated telling him where to find the fugitives more than once since walking into the Justice Center, but-despite what Hobson said-she believed that Carl and Vanessa had risked their lives to save her and she wasn’t prepared to give them up.
“Do you agree with Hobson’s take on what happened at my house-that Wingate sent men to rescue Vanessa and Carl killed them and the officers?”
“It makes sense.”
“Why do you think Carl let me live? Why kill Dr. French and the policemen and not me?”
“Who knows how the mind of someone with his mental wiring works? Maybe French said something that made Rice think he was working with Wingate. Maybe Rice distrusts psychiatrists but sees you as one of the good guys.”
“I guess that’s as good an explanation as any, but I still think it’s possible that he did save me. If he’s telling the truth, General Wingate has a powerful motive to kill Carl and anyone else, like George and me, who Carl told about the Unit.”
“If the Unit exists. We only have Rice’s word for that.”
Ami was too tired to argue and she was relieved when she saw the Heathman across the street. The hotel restaurant had just opened and there were only a few other diners. The hostess seated Brendan and Ami by the window and a waiter brought them water. Ami ordered a light meal and Brendan ordered pancakes.