SIXTY-FOUR
They didn’t have a plan. They parked around the corner and kept to the shadows as they jogged up to the hospital grounds. There were a half dozen cop cars in the parking lot, but only one of them was running. Lonetree pointed out the fire escape he’d used to break into the third floor on his first visit to Huckley. Framed in the window was the silhouette of a man in uniform. Lonetree looked through his field binoculars.
“That’s a cop watching the window.”
“Now what?” Jack asked.
“Don’t worry about him. A little diversion in the front of the hospital and he’ll go check it out.”
Jack asked the question that had been nagging at him. “Why didn’t you kill Huckley when you sneaked in there the first time?”
“I needed to find out who would protect him. I knew about Janney, Max and Butcher, but I needed to see who else came out of the woodwork. The Boss is the one I’m looking for. You have to understand, I don’t want to just kill these people. I want to punish them. What happened to your buddy Max back there is fine with me.”
Jack didn’t argue. As long as Lonetree was after the same people he was after, he didn’t care where he got his motivation. Besides, if the unthinkable were to happen and Sarah were killed, he would welcome any punishment Lonetree meted out. In fact, he would be right next to him. “From what Max said, it sounds like Huckley has turned into a loose cannon. I’m surprised someone didn’t finish him off while he was in the coma.”
“I’ve thought about that. I’m guessing the Boss has a use for him. Max said Huckley can communicate with the Source. Either Huckley is insane and he’s imagining things or the Source possesses some kind of sentient intelligence. Either way, I think it’s time to screw with the Boss’s plans. He wants Huckley alive. For me, that’s a good enough reason to kill him. At least it will force the Boss to react.”
Jack nodded, vaguely aware how he now talked about death and killing as easily as if he were planning strategy for a road trip. Still, something bothered him about Lonetree’s first visit to Huckley’s hospital room. “So if you weren’t trying to kill him, what were you doing in his room?”
Lonetree looked away uncomfortably. “I did a ritual my father taught me when I was young. Wards off evil spirits.”
“Huckley said there was something stopping him from getting to you. Called it Indian magic.”
Lonetree shrugged his shoulders. “He hasn’t bothered me at all.”
“Except for almost killing you in the cave.”
“I blame you for that. Maybe I should do the ritual to keep me safe from you and that trigger finger of yours.” Lonetree’s smile stood out in the dark.
Jack laughed. “Don’t try to bond with me.” Then his tone turned more serious. “If Janney’s here, then I’ve got to get to him and make him talk.”
“You think all those deputies with guns are going to let you do that?”
Frustrated, Jack said, “All right, you’re the commando military guy. What should we do?”
“Like I said, it’s time to do away with Huckley. Once he’s gone, we might have a better chance to spook the others into the open. Maybe even give up your daughter.”
Jack realized it was the first time Lonetree had mentioned Sarah in any of his plans. He appreciated the gesture but wondered if the big man was patronizing him. “Why would they do that?”
“No one wants to die. But I imagine guys who have to opportunity to live forever want to avoid death that much more. With a choice of facing me, or releasing Sarah, they might let her go.”
“But you’re not going to stop if I get Sarah back.”
“They don’t know that, do they?” Lonetree said with a smile.
A shiver passed through Jack’s body and every hair stood upright on the back of his neck. He reached down for the gun Lonetree had given him and held it out. “Maybe you should take this. What if it happens again? What if Huckley forces me to use it on you?”
“He hasn’t tried anything since we left the cave, so…” Lonetree said with a shrug. They were both in uncharted territory, the blind leading the blind. “Besides, the first mention of glowing bodies floating through the air, I’m just going to shoot you in both arms. Just to be on the safe side.”
“Before you do that, try disarming me first.”
“I’ll try,” Lonetree said, his tone suggesting that his solution was much easier and more likely his first choice.
Jack looked back at the squad cars in the parking lot beneath them. He saw two uniformed police walk by the glass doors that lead to the emergency room “How about a plan?”
“Well, that depends on you.”
“How so?”
Lonetree nodded to the gun in Jack’s hand, “It depends. Would you rather go to the front of the hospital and create a massive diversion and then hold off about two dozen cops who will be trying to kill you.”
“And option two?”
“Climb up that fire escape, sneak into Huckley’s room and squeeze off five or six rounds into his chest.”
Jack thought through his answer. A week ago he could never have contemplated taking another man’s life. But things were different now. The bastard had his daughter. He nodded toward the fire escape. “Option two. I’ll take Huckley.”
“Are you sure? We’re only going to get one shot at this. I can’t have you getting in there and find you don’t have what it takes to pull the trigger.”
“He wants to torture and kill my daughter. Trust me, I won’t have a problem.”
Lonetree stared into Jack’s eyes for several long seconds. Finally, as if satisfied with what he saw in his companion’s expression, he clapped him on the shoulder. “All right. Here’s the plan.”
SIXTY-FIVE
Lauren hung up the phone with Sushma, thankful that at least Becky was safe. Her eldest daughter had been quiet on the phone, but didn’t seem mad at her anymore. Lauren figured it was one more thing to thank Sushma for. She imagined that her friend had used the three hour car ride to help Becky understand that her mom was just looking out for her.
Whatever she said, it worked. The last words her daughter said were, “I love you, Mom. Find Sarah for us.”
It had taken everything Lauren had to keep her composure. She managed to talk in spite of the few tears that broke through the emotional wall she’d erected around herself. She told Becky she loved her too, and that she would call again in the morning.
She looked around the room. Police and hospital staff were scattered around, all trying very hard to appear that they had not heard the whole conversation even though the room was small enough and quiet enough that not hearing every word was impossible. It was an act of kindness, this false privacy, but, like everything that night, it took on a devious quality in her mind. Instead of politeness, their faked indifference seemed like spying to her. How gullible did they think she was anyway?
A quick glance at the clock told her it was almost midnight, six hours since her phone call from Jack. She was beyond rationalizing the meaning of his disappearance. Five hours ago she was convinced that he was in traffic somewhere. That he didn’t want to take the time to pull over to a pay phone.
Four hours ago she thought he might be in a car accident, again without a phone. She was worried for him and listened to the police scanners in the room, sure that word of a terrible accident would be announced any second. After that, her excuses for his absence ran out. She’d spent the last couple of hours facing the fact that perhaps her husband’s mental illness was worse than she thought. Maybe Scott Moran wasn’t a liar. Maybe Jack’s delusions were really a leading indicator of more profound psychological issues. He’d sounded so manic on the phone. So paranoid.