Chapter Twenty-Four
Eleanor’s alarm went off. She opened two crusty eyes. “Yuck.” She swiped at them, and after sitting up, she charged into the bathroom, nauseated and stuffy. “Body, I don’t have patience for this.”
After a shower, she dressed in jeans and a t-shit with a warm wool fisherman’s style sweater. Digging through her bag, she pulled out a pair of thick wool socks. Slipping on a pair of duck shoes, she crunched her curls and opened the door.
“Morning, Ms. West. I’m Hazel Cortez from Tango Team. I relieved Adina,” she said.
“Good morning. I’d like to eat something. Then I need to head to the stables.” She made her way to the stairs.
Troy, Kip and Wes were sitting at the kitchen table. All three looked exhausted. “Hi,” she greeted them.
“Hey, Ellie,” Kip said. “Join us. You too, Hazel.”
“Is it okay if I eat something?” she asked.
Wes stared up from his mug. “Sure, Curly. Help yourself. I’ll see everyone in a while. I want to check on the injured.”
Hazel stepped from the room. Eleanor pulled out a container of milk and poured a bowl of granola, then filled the seat Wes vacated. “The weather seems to have let up.” Her eyes focused on the exit Wes used.
“We should be able to start moving the injured. The doc will decide if it’s safe to move Tobey,” Kip said.
“How is he?” Eleanor looked sad.
“He had a rough night, but the doc said it was expected.” Troy looked down.
Eleanor placed her hand on top of Troy’s. “Make sure you eat well, get some sleep, and if you want, stop by. I want to know your feelings about starting the program on time. I’m heading to the stables.”
* * *
Eleanor looked pale, and her eyes were puffy. He wanted to scoop her into his arms and hold her. She was a comfort to him.I wonder if she feels the same way.
Instead, he ignored her. His own emotions were too brittle. Guilt handcuffed him. The FBI abused her, and the helicopter crash could’ve killed her.
Blowing out a breath, he walked into the clinic. Their second medical director made it in from Inova. Duncan Mulligan stood with Sam Baker outside O’Mara’s room. “How is he?”
“Holding his own. The vent helped his oxygen levels. Hanlon is flying in to replenish our supplies. And then we will make a final determination to send him out. We’re sending Hopper and the others to DC by land,” Mulligan said.
“I’m gonna check on North and then try to catch four hours. She should be good to come off observation. Give her a week, and we will reassess,” Sam said. “You need some sleep too.”
“Thanks, Doc. Can I see him?” Wes asked.
“Full isolation precautions,” Mulligan stressed.
Wes completed his visits and headed to his office. A sheriff’s department Ford 150 pulled up to the front door, and Keith Hartung climbed from the truck. “Morning.”
“Morning,” Wes said, holding the door.
The offices were buzzing with Eagle’s Talon and level-three staff. “Morning, everyone. Hang tight, I’ll be with you as soon as I can.” Wes unlocked his office and welcomed Hartung inside. “Coffee?”
“If I drink another cup, my heart will blow out. How are your injured?” Hartung asked.
Wes gave him an overview.
“Heard about yesterday. You met the boss.”
“I did.” Wes said.
“He’s a stuffed pig. Drinks too much and beats his wife. She won’t report, and he keeps getting re-elected. His behavior is an open secret.”
