Rescue Team Page 7

  Lauren nodded. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d wanted to trade places with her younger sister, spare Jessica pain. “They arrested the man who rigged that gun?”

  “Right.” Wes half groaned, half laughed. “He’s been feuding with his brother for, like, ten years. Over something he can’t even remember. But he sure wasn’t going to let him come ‘poking around’ his property. Can you believe that? Gabe got shot—could have been killed—because this lunatic can’t forgive his brother?”

  “Don’t get me started.” Lauren shook her head. “Last summer one of the ER techs got in a phone argument with his ex, put his car in reverse, and backed over a pharmaceutical rep in the parking lot. Fractured leg—and the lawsuit that welcomed Kate to her new job.”

  Wes’s brows drew together.

  “She got you past security to see your friend before surgery?”

  “Yes.” Something that looked like a smile played across his lips. “And helped me with another problem—long story. I’m surprised, considering all she had to say against what we’re doing with the ER staff tomorrow.”

  “You’re still planning to be there?”

  “Yes. Gabe will be upstairs, so it works on all counts. Do you know how many people will attend the debriefing?”

  “About nine, I think. Counting the facilitators, you, and me. And Kate.”

  Wes’s eyes widened. “How’d you manage that? Hypnosis?”

  Lauren weighed her response. “I told Kate it might score points with her team. It hasn’t been easy to take the lead after Sunni. They have different styles of leadership, and—” She stopped, catching a glimpse of scrubs in the distance, then waved her hand. “Kate. Join us.”

  - + -

  Wes could tell by the look on Kate’s face that joining them wasn’t something she wanted to do. Even less when Lauren got paged and had to return to the ICU within minutes. He had a quick, irrational wish that Nancy Rae were here to mediate. He tried to remember how Kate’s face looked, transformed by that unexpected smile in the chapel. Not possible.

  Kate cleared her throat. “Horses?”

  “Beg your pardon?”

  “You and your friend were on horseback when he was shot?”

  “Right.” Why did he have the feeling Kate was about to add tetanus exposure to his growing list of Gabe guilt? But her eyes softened instead. Big, dark, vulnerable . . . beautiful. He’d be laughed out of the county if anyone knew he’d just thought of Bambi.

  “My father and I used to ride,” Kate told him, voice as soft as her eyes. “Summer vacations when I was little. We rented a cabin near Donner Lake in the Sierra mountains. He bought me fringed chaps with my initials made to look like a brand. Mom didn’t ride, but she’d pack us a lunch, and . . .” Kate swallowed, glanced across the room. When she met his gaze again, the vulnerable softness was gone.

  “Duster and Clementine,” Wes offered. “My sorrel gelding and my father’s young mare. Gabe was helping me put Clem through some field training. For a search-and-rescue demonstration we’re doing Saturday—I’m doing—on my folks’ ranch.” Wes took a chance, stubbornly holding on to the image of a little cowgirl with her daddy. “If you’d like to come by, the horses will be there. Saddled and ready to go.” He hoped she heard a shrug in his voice—and couldn’t tell he was holding his breath.

  “I don’t ride anymore,” she said abruptly, checking her watch.

  “Does your father?”

  Kate frowned, pushed her coffee away. “I don’t know. We don’t talk.”

  Wes thought of the hermit and the rigged shotgun.

  “So,” Kate said, standing, “I suppose I’ll see you at the debriefing tomorrow.” She looked at him like she was imagining a scorpion in her shoe.

  “Yep.”

  Her shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. “I guess it won’t be only the baby they’ll talk about. With all that news coverage this afternoon.”

  “News?”

  “About Sunni Sprague.”

  Wes’s pulse quickened. “I heard there might be a new development, but I didn’t see that report. What’s going on?”

  “The sheriff said there could be a break in her case. And that there would be more information coming soon. I got the impression they thought they’d be locating a body.” Kate’s eyes clouded. “I think not knowing is worse.”

  Wes wasn’t sure if he nodded. But finally they agreed on something.

  His mother’s body hadn’t been found for nearly a year. Not knowing—searching, struggling to hope against worsening odds—was far worse.

  - + -

  “You’re still here?” Kate asked, spotting Judith in the hospital gazebo. “You’re making me feel like a slacker. I’m on my way home.”

  “Me too.” Judith’s smile was warm. “I was sorting through some photos I took of Harley a few minutes ago.”

  “But she was discharged hours ago. She’s having trouble again?”

  “No. Her grandfather’s rehab appointment,” Judith reminded. “Trista drives him here every weekday. Harley’s fine. But when Trista told me that she didn’t have a camera and hadn’t had any photos done since her baby was born . . .” Judith’s earrings swayed as she shook her head in obvious disbelief. “Of course I took some. And said I’d e-mail them. Want to see?”

  “Sure.” Kate sat down beside her, scrolled through the digital photos as Judith narrated. “These are great. She’s such a cute baby.” She kept going and found shots of lush foliage, hills, and water. “These landscapes are nice too. Where is that?”

  “I took these along the Barton Creek Greenbelt. It’s beautiful along there and it goes all the way to Zilker Park. Which is quite lovely too. There’s a botanical garden, an outdoor theater, so many great things for families.”

  Kate nodded. “I’m embarrassed to admit that I live within walking distance. Lauren’s been badgering me to jog with her at the park. I think you’ve convinced me.” She scrolled back to the baby photos, smiled. “This was really nice. You’re completely amazing, Judith. What would we do without you?”

  “You’ll never have to find out,” the volunteer promised as if she were making a sacred pledge.

  “Good.” Kate noticed the sun glinting off Judith’s wedding ring set. “Though I would think your family might object if we abuse your generosity.”

  The woman’s barely perceptible wince was enough to make Kate wish she could take the words back. “I’m a widow. Three years this month. My daughter’s in San Antonio; Molly and her husband are attorneys. They’ve been trying to make me a grandmother for nearly two years. Now they’re talking about adoption. . . .” Judith lifted her chin, the smile returning. “So you see, I have plenty of time on my hands.”

  “Maybe the next time I need an espresso Doubleshot and you get a yen for a pumpkin spice latte, we should walk over to Starbucks and have it there. Away from the hospital. Where we can really talk.”

  Judith’s gaze held Kate’s for a moment. “I like the idea.”

  “Me too.” Kate glanced at her watch. “I’d better get going. I need to hit the computer at home, do some planning. We have a meeting tomorrow.”

  “That critical stress debriefing. Beverly told me. It’s not my place to say so, but I think it can only be good to foster a cohesive team. Taking care of yourselves—and each other—is part of that. Healthy staff, happy patients.”

  “I . . .” Kate hesitated, then decided to go ahead. “Did you know Sunni Sprague?”

  Judith’s expression clouded and Kate felt certain she was struggling with a polite way to say what everyone else had. “You’ll never compare to Sunni.”

  “I’m sorry,” Kate apologized. “I can only imagine how awful it was—still is—for everyone. She was probably a personal friend.”

  “No.” Judith sighed. “You don’t need to apologize. I know how difficult your position is in light of that situation, Kate. No person is perfect. No place is perfect. But we all have to try to be the best we can be.�
�

  Kate was halfway down Ben White Boulevard and starting to think about dinner when she noticed that the young woman was gone. The corner empty. No grieving mother, no candle, no heartbreaking poster with its painful plea for a funeral. She wondered if the woman had finally accomplished that—buried her baby. Gone home.

  Then Kate remembered what she’d told Wes Tanner about the break in Sunni’s case. That she thought it meant they were close to finding a body. And that finding out something awful was better than . . . not knowing. Her heart crowded her chest and she wasn’t sure if the sudden ache was for the young mother or Sunni or . . .

  She glanced at the empty corner and let herself imagine for just a moment—like Judith’s camera capturing baby Harley—an image of a happy ten-year-old boy riding a horse alongside his very proud grandfather.

  “OW—HEY!” Wes jerked upright in the lumpy visitor’s chair and retrieved the hurled Kleenex box. He grinned at Gabe. “You’re obviously feeling better.”

  “And you slept here all night?” Gabe shook his head. “Call the nurse. I’m having a fatal flashback to Scout camp.” He lifted a container of green Jell-O. “Except the food was better there. You can’t call it breakfast without bacon.”

  Wes chuckled, relief washing over him again. “Don’t complain. Looks like you’re down to one IV, and you’ve traded your oxygen for coffee . . . and a Statesman?” He glanced at the newspaper open on the tray table.

  “Yeah. And we’re in it.” He lifted the paper. “‘Local Businessman Victim of Shooting.’ Could have been worse: ‘Funeral Director Escapes Coffin.’”

  “Did they mention search and rescue? We don’t need that. Hard enough to recruit volunteers already.”

  “Nope.” Gabe tapped the paper with his plastic spoon. “Far more interest in details of how our crazy hermit rigged the shotgun.”

  “No mention of why we were out there?”

  “You mean Nancy Rae?” Gabe peered at him over the paper. “Thank you, by the way, for getting her back to Mrs. Braxton.”

  “No problem.” Wes remembered Kate’s smile. “Who told you?”

  “Nobody. I read it in the paper.”

  “You just told me the article didn’t say any of that.”

  “It didn’t. But . . .” Gabe refolded the paper and held it out. “This one did. Complete with pictures.”

  “Gimme that.” Wes grabbed the paper, eyes widening at a close-up shot of Lily and Amelia Braxton. Smiling bookends to a doll’s face. The caption below read, “Grateful ladies laud local heroes—Nancy Rae is found.”

  Gabe clucked his tongue. “Apparently our newest ‘live find’ offered plenty of human interest.”

  “Great.” Wes was quiet; the faint hum of the intermittent compression device on Gabe’s legs filled the short stretch of silence. “Did you hear that the sheriff made a statement about Sunni Sprague? It sounds like you could be right about evidence from an inmate. Though I got the impression his statement was more to stop rumors from spreading at this point. He said he wasn’t prepared to make anything public yet, but that they were ‘hopeful to have some new information soon.’”

  “He wouldn’t have come out at all if they didn’t have something.” Gabe pushed his hands against the mattress, grimacing as he slid higher in the hospital bed. “Looks like I won’t be there for the callout when they organize a search.”

  “They’ll need help at the command trailer with search management. You’re certified. And we don’t even know that this so-called information will point to anything local.”

  Gabe pinned Wes with a look. “I know. You know.” He glanced toward the doorway. “Every staffer at this hospital knows it. Sunni disappeared after leaving a shift right here. Her car was abandoned in Barton Springs, only a few miles away. If there’s something to find, it’s close by.” He raised his brows. “Hey . . . you’re doing that debriefing today.”

  “Right.” Wes frowned, remembering what Kate Callison had said the last time he saw her. “I suppose I’ll see you at the debriefing tomorrow.” There had been no smile on her face that time. “I’ll tell you the truth: it’s the last thing I feel like doing.”

  - + -

  Kate peeked into the conference room. The chaplain and social worker were already seated. She turned back to Lauren. “I see you’re providing Kleenex.”

  “Tissues, water, an opportunity to feel heard and supported.”

  “Even if we have nothing to say.” Kate stopped herself from crossing her arms.

  “Even then. I never thought to ask—have you ever attended a critical stress debriefing?”

  “No.” Now Kate’s arms crossed of their own volition. “Or had teeth pulled without anesthetic or set myself on fire.” She dredged up a smile, reminding herself of her upcoming performance review. She needed staff morale to improve. Or else she’d be scheduling a plan B interview with that Dallas recruiter. “First time for everything.”

  Lauren squeezed her arm. “No worries. No one’s going to put you on the spot. I’ll be there with you. And so will Wes.”

  Kate decided Lauren didn’t need to know that having Wes Tanner anywhere close created critical stress of its own. She was still kicking herself for telling him about riding horses with her father. How had she let that happen? Never again.

  She checked her watch. “This will take an hour?”

  “Approximately.” Lauren smiled to acknowledge the arrival of Albert the janitor and one of the registration clerks. Neither of whom made eye contact with Kate. “Well, I think I’ll find a seat since folks are starting to arrive. Are you—?” Lauren’s brows pinched together. “Heads up; Lyon on the prowl.” She escaped into the conference room.

  “Kate, glad I caught you.”

  Kate turned to see Barrett Lyon’s ingratiating smile. “I only have a minute. Meeting.” She pointed at the conference room, suddenly eager to join the group. There were worse things.

  “Yes. The debriefing. About the Baby Doe incident.” Barrett’s smile stretched wider, gray eyes almost glittering. “I just heard about it. It’s why I wanted to catch you.” He glanced toward the doorway, then took hold of her elbow and guided her a few steps away.

  “What?” Kate slid her arm from his grasp.

  “It could help,” he said, lowering his voice, “if you let me know if any staff member mentions feeling personally responsible.”

  “Are you serious?” Kate felt blood rush to her face as Barrett signaled for her to keep her voice down. Several employees filed by. She backed toward the doorway and Barrett followed.

  “I’m completely serious,” he told her, stepping close enough that she could smell his citrusy cologne. “I believe I told you that our preference would be the prosecution of that teenage mother. But so far there have been no leads on her identity. And if the hospital incurs—”

  “No. This is a confidential meeting. For mutual support,” Kate emphasized, surprised to hear herself parroting Lauren. “If you think I’m going to be some sort of spy—”

  “Kate, Kate . . .” Barrett grasped her shoulder, flashed his smile. “I’m—”

  “Excuse me.” Wes Tanner’s deep voice interrupted. “I just need to get through.” His gaze swept past Kate to Lyon, eyes narrowing a fraction.

  Barrett stepped away from Kate.

  “Best not to be late,” Wes said tersely, moving into the doorway.

  “Right,” Kate agreed, grateful for the reprieve.

  Wes stepped aside for Kate, followed her in, and took the last seat at the table. Directly across from her. She reached for her bottled water, wishing it were coffee. Then started to consider which was the worse fate: being asked to be legal’s snitch or finding herself trapped in a room with a mountain of Kleenex.

  Someone closed the door and the chaplain rose from his chair. “Let’s get started.”

  - + -

  Wes studied Kate covertly, deciding that though the smile in the chapel had almost changed his mind, prickly was still the perfect adj
ective for her. Even her hair seemed at odds with the world. Like right now, with the short, dark tufts sticking up. If she were a cat, her ears would flatten and she’d hiss. Apparently no one had explained to her that crossed arms sent a distinct message—after nearly half an hour, her muscles had to be cramping. Wes looked down as she glanced his way.

  “And now we begin the third phase of our debriefing.” Cynthia McConnell’s expression was warm, compassionate, as she glanced around the table at the gathered staff: the janitor, the registration clerk, a NICU nurse, a respiratory therapist, Lauren, and Kate. “I remind you once again that we’ve gathered together for mutual support. That no one has any rank here, and everything we say will remain completely confidential.”

  Kate’s lips pressed together in a tight line.

  “As we go around the table this time,” the chaplain explained, joining in, “we’ll ask you to share your first thought after you stopped functioning on autopilot.”

  Wes knew the question well; it would be a tough one for the staff. Their first thought when they stopped doing and started feeling.

  Kate fidgeted, swallowed, and reached for her water bottle.

  “I’m not sure it really hit me how tragic it was,” Lauren began, pressing her palms together, “until after I’d done what I could to help Albert.” She turned to meet the man’s gaze, empathy in her eyes. “And saw—really saw—the blood on your hands.”

  “I . . .” The janitor cleared his throat. “I surely did appreciate your helping me. And . . .” He glanced at the chaplain. “I remember handing that babe to Mr. Tanner, thinkin’—right before I passed out—that I shoulda been checking that bathroom an hour earlier. I always do the cleaning in emergency about 4:30 a.m., you see.” He pressed a trembling hand to his forehead. “I changed up my routine that night. For no good reason changed it.”

  Lauren put her hand on Albert’s arm as a tear slid down his face.

  “I’m a grandpa, nine times. I keep thinking, why didn’t I find that precious baby boy sooner?”

  “I thought of my daughter,” the registration clerk, Teresa, offered, barely above a whisper. “I opened the door for Mr. Tanner and Kate so they could rush that baby back to the ER. I did it without thinking. But then, afterward, I saw a trail of blood drops. Little splashes going past my office and all the way down the hall. There was one on my shoe.” She clutched at a small cross on a chain around her neck. “My daughter’s lost three babies. The one she’s carrying now still has four months to go. I’m so afraid she’ll lose this one too—it would kill her.” Her face contorted. “How could a mother leave her baby and walk away?”