"Yes, this is good." Elizabeth encouraged her to suck from the bottle.
Though he wasn’t a crier, Martin’s eyes watered watching her with Lola. "You're such a good mommy."
Elizabeth stared at her feet.
"You. Are. A. Wonderful. Mommy." He leaned down and kissed his girls.
"Marty, you’re such a wonderful father. Lola, I want to tell you a story from a long time ago. It was the first time your daddy was a hero. Memorial Day is a big to-do in Silverton. After the parade, we played with the little kids and listened to the older folks tell stories about the wars that were supposed to be the last ones. At dark, the older kids went to build a bonfire at Susie Perkin's barn." Their baby girl seemed enthralled with Elizabeth's voice, and Martin's eyes shone with love.
"Susie was a snobby girl. Your daddy won't stand for that. Susie liked to be popular, and her mom liked Susie to be popular too. Susie served fruit punch at her parties, and her mom used to buy alcohol for her to put in it. A bunch of us were all cuddled up around the fire when Susie went off with a boy. They’d both drunk too much when they crawled up into the silo. Suddenly, the boy came flying out, jumped in his car and left.
“When Susie didn't follow him out, your daddy was the only one who thought something was wrong. He went into the silo, looking for her. A part of Susie's shirt was sticking out of the corn. I called the fire department. Your daddy found a rope, lowered himself into the dark hole, and rooted around until he found Susie's hand. With the help of a couple of the other boys, they pulled her out. That was the night I decided I wanted to be a doctor. I did CPR until the fire department came. From that night on, your daddy never stopped being a hero.”
Monday, August 14th
The two-week recovery period went too fast for Martin. Their time together was more fairy tale than reality. Discussions with hospital administration proved they were worried about image and that, to them, Elizabeth was disposable. They had a routine divided between visiting Lola and Austin, and Martin helping her rebuild her stamina—sometimes in creative, sensual ways. When Elizabeth insisted on returning, he took a play from Ian's book and asked Julian to protect her. His colleagues were correct— he'd crossed the line.
They cuddled on a picnic blanket beside the pond, gleaming in the early afternoon sun. Elizabeth rested on her belly and leaned on an elbow. "Marty, I promise, if I don't feel well, I'll pull the plug."
"It doesn't make it any easier. I worry." Martin wove his fingers with hers. "Promise me you won't ditch Julian."
Laugher floated on the breeze. "Where am I going to ditch him? He makes you look tiny. He told me he's going to follow me like a puppy on a leash, just like any other medical student."
"Julian said ‘puppy on a leash’?"
"I added that," she giggled.
"Don't tell him. You'll insult his ego."
"Ha, you’re all softies."
Martin clutched his chest. "Our reputations are destroyed." His expression turned dark. "You're all right?"
"I guess. I mean physically, yes. I won't know otherwise until a patient or a colleague says something about me being mentally ill."
"Henrietta Krump is a mean woman. And she works the day shift." The thought bubble floated above his head. Going off the rails to defend her would only hurt her, thanks to the charges her father was holding over his head. Reed was taunting him, knowing the police wouldn't act until he signed the actual complaint.
Daily briefings solidified the bottom tiers of the pyramid, but they still were unable to climb the next rung. Surveillance showed nothing pertinent. The briefing after Elizabeth left for work provoked Martin to ask Mike to call an immediate meeting. Hailey Ullman and Pietra Hahn remained missing. Wes reported Troy made two more films, each film containing more violence than the previous. Each time, he was coerced with a threat to the female prisoner's life.
Thirty-four days in, he still couldn't make a legal connection to the person at the top. Suppositions remained the same. The other undercover operators advised that things at the jail were quiet—too quiet.
Patrick reported there were no odd admissions. The few had medical ailments. Sutton's report troubled him the most—Troy seemed anxious and jittery. Martin's instincts fired, and Mike agreed. They decided to get Troy out within forty-eight hours.
Julian pulled into the garage. "You stand out like a sore thumb. They’ll recognize you as a bodyguard." Elizabeth shook her head at Julian.
Julian spent the two weeks Elizabeth was recovering changing his own appearance. "No one will think I'm not a student. Put together this incredible Cajun accent, the short jacket, the shaggy hair, the beard, and I can look dumb," he said.
"No one is going to believe you're stupid."
He turned away from her and opened a bag. Turning to face her, he now sported contact lenses, changing his blue eyes to a vivid green; then he shoved a pair of thick black-framed glasses against his brow.
"Shit, you do look stupid."
He winked. "Chère,my call name is Smooth for a reason."
The ER shift was slow; the steady flow of patients didn’t tax Elizabeth's skills. She sat at the nurse's station charting the disposition of her latest patient. Julian played the medical student well, his service training providing a strong background that he appeared and sounded convincing. His body language and posture made others take his hypervigilance as nerves.
One of the nurses answered the phone. "Dr. Reed, paramedics are bringing in a prisoner from the jail. They’re asking for a trauma alert."
