“Professionally, she talked about her white whale:The Adorationby Caravaggio. It disappeared in 1967 from Palermo, Sicily. It’s a big painting—six square meters—and worth about twenty million.”
“Any idea why?” Ian asked.
“She never said. Everyone in the unit has a crusade—one piece that means something to them.”
“And personally?”
“She always talks about our fantastic analyst, Sophie Garland. Poor girl is champing at the bit to get here. Her replacement landed in London this morning, and she should be here tomorrow. Her family. The Paulsens. Knight, their dog. No one else. I always got the feeling someone hurt her. Never has an issue working with men, but she never stops out for a drink after work. I’ve never seen her date, never mention a relationship. We’re a small group. We work in close quarters.
"On the other end of the spectrum, she remembers everyone’s birthday and anniversary. She attends every family function. Loves children. She always plays an elf at the FBI children’s Christmas party. I found out a couple of years ago, she sends gifts to Children’s Hospital in her brother Thomas’s name. The way I found out was my granddaughter was a patient at the time.
"The guys are very protective of her. They want to lynch Wilds.” Yates brushed Cassie’s cheek. “I was hoping she had a secret someone special. She deserves to be loved.”
The rhythmic churn of the ventilator was the only sound in the room as Yates patted Ian’s shoulder. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Take care of her.”
It was clear by his tone Yates meant as more than a security detail. The two men shook hands again.
“I will.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Sir, I am sorry for the delay. When I got there, her home was destroyed. I found this under the floor in the bedroom closet.” Monte placed a pale blue book in front of his boss.
“Thank you, Monte.” A review of the contents produced chills. It held a lock of black hair, a photograph of a perfect infant wrapped in a blue receiving blanket, two tiny handprints and footprints, and a death certificate:William Thomas Ensworth. Buried Mount Hope Memorial Cemetery, San Diego, California.
“Monte, this is a huge problem.”
“Yes, sir. What do you need?”
“I’ll be in touch.” When he was alone in his office, he picked up his phone.
* * *
Adrienne Whitman picked at her nail polish. “Joe, she’s still alive. What are you doing to fix this?”
Joe Maddox's voice trembled. “Ade, I can’t get near her. She has private duty staff; her family or Ian Chase is with her all the time. Even her supplies and meds are brought in. We need to hope she never wakes up.”
“I can’t believe you couldn’t do such a simple job. I should have done it myself.”
“I’m sorry, Ade. I did the best I could.”
“Well, it isn’t good enough. We have to try a different tactic.”
* * *
Twelve days after Cassie was admitted, Ian joined Luke Paulsen as he notified the hospital Cassie was being transferred to Johns Hopkins in Baltimore.
Barbara, the nurse administrator, pursed her lips. “She’s on life support. Every time they reposition her, her body undergoes distress. She needs dialysis, and she’s burning with fever. This move will threaten her life.”
“My daughter has two awful bacteria running around her system she didn’t come in here with. And she has a third bug from her injuries. Explain to me how she received an overdose of potassium? Don’t tell me she’s safe here. I won’t even go into the sponge left in her wound. That’s three times she was hurt on your hospital’s watch. I assure you; she will be better off where she’s going,” Luke said.
“Mr. Paulsen, you leave the hospital no choice but to seek a court order to prevent you from doing so.”
Luke stood to his full intimidating height. “You do what you have to.”
After a quick discussion with Ian, a decision was made to execute the move before the hospital could get their plan together.
* * *
