“Anything for you, Harper. What do you want them for?” Kieran’s expression was inscrutable.
“I’m going to put pictures of Pierre and Rosalind Rousselle with the caption ‘Thieves, frauds and murderers. Visit them in whatever prison they’re thrown into.’”
“Shouldn’t be a problem. They’ll likely be in one of the federal prisons. Killing a law enforcement officer is a death penalty offense,” Kieran said.
“Now that’s even much for you two.” Pierre looked at Julian and Kieran.
Julian reached into his pocket and removed a badge and ID case. “Kip Brennan, Special Investigator. Department of Homeland Security.” He showed him Kip’s badge and ID card.
“Pierre, we will release you and your wife into federal custody and be done with you. You will rot away the rest of your life, or we can let you see your granddaughter and take the federal death penalty off the table. The offer expires in sixty seconds,” Kieran said.
At the fifty-eight second mark, Pierre Rousselle gave them Kip’s location. Julian fled the room, leaving Kieran and his daughters with Pierre.
When Kieran knocked on the door, Tuck walked in carrying the baby. Pierre tried to get to the open door, but Tuck turned to his left, handing off Lisette to Harper, then his fist came up hard under Pierre’s chin. The awful sound of bone cracking echoed in the room. He followed it by the sweep of his leg, which sent Pierre hitting the ground in a limp ball.
Chantal laughed. “See, I told you.”
“Medic,” Kieran said with a chuckle.
“This is Medic 1, request assistance Interrogation Room Five. I need a long board and collar. We have a broken mandible.” Tuck rolled the dazed Pierre onto his back and began his assessment.
Chapter 45
Wednesday, September 12th
Greta T+14 days
Kip groaned. The fire burned itself out. He rolled to his knees and tried to stand, but he couldn’t coordinate his legs. Crawling, he vomited in the hole he had to redig every time the water came in. Some areas now had puddles; the ground was saturated. Sliding down against one muddy wall, he managed to drink the last of the Gatorade.
The tide cycled again. Water flowed in faster than the previous times, quickly passing his waist. He floated toward his makeshift shelf. Grabbing the small Bible and turning the penlight on, he found Psalm 23:4: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.” His voice was nearly inaudible.
Water continued to pour in, over his chest, over his shoulders and now over his head. Kip closed his eyes, and with what was left of his strength, he tread water. He pictured Harper’s beautiful face. Opening his eyes, he realized the water level made the opening to the crypt within reach. Kip dropped beneath the surface and kicked hard off the bottom, hoping the momentum would carry him high enough to grab something to escape.
His hands above his head, he grabbed ground beside the hole. With nothing firm to hold on to, he began slipping backwards. He jackknifed his body, managing to get one leg above ground. Exhaling, he lost consciousness.
“I’ve got him. Kip, c’mon, man,” Kyle begged. “Medic. Open your eyes, man.”
Kip’s eyes fluttered. He didn’t have the energy to open them. “Ky..le.”
“Hold on; help is coming.”
* * *
Friday September14
Greta T+16 Days
Beep,beep, beep, what’s beeping?His hands flailed, swatting at imagined bugs. Hands held him down.I can’t breathe.
“Kip. Open your eyes. You’re in the hospital. Nice slow breaths. It’s Hunt. Logan is here too. He’ll take the tube out if you open your eyes,” Hunt cajoled.
Hospital? Tube? Hunt? Logan?He forced his eyes open.
“There you go. Breathe. Again. Okay, big cough,” Logan said as he pulled the tube from Kip’s trachea.
“How’s the pain?” Hunt asked as Logan placed a humidified air mask on him.
“Hurts. Harper…Chantal…” He ripped the mask off and tried to get up.
