From what little I’ve uncovered today, her dad was a real piece of shit. Like the rest of the junkies that live in Whiskey Rivers. It’s possible he had lots of other enemies who wanted him dead and were coming after her too.
She did say when Ethan stopped her from leaving this morning that she didn’t have any money to pay his debts. That would make sense that the man in question is her father. I’m going to have to get the girl to talk even though I can see in her eyes that she doesn’t trust me.
“Either you or Emma need to get her full story. She will be staying with us until I figure out what to do with her.” I need to know everything about the possible fugitive I’m harboring in my home.
“Whatever you say, boss.” Ethan might be my nephew, but when he is not out fucking the community, he is really useful at being my right-hand man. The thing I like most about him is that while he is a cocky, walking testosterone stick, he never questions my orders.
If she is guilty, there’s one thing I know how to do and do well, and that’s cover up a crime.
The girl looks and acts like she’s been through hell and back. Maybe saving her will be my one good deed in life. Ugh. I don’t have room to be a fucking softy.
Several drinks later, Ethan and I head back to my three-story house with a private beach. I bought all the vacant lots within a mile on either side of me so I wouldn’t have to worry about close neighbors.
Emma rushes to greet us at the door. “Something’s wrong. She hasn’t eaten all day and when I went to check on her again, I couldn’t wake her. Her lips are blue and she’s very pale. She’s breathing but barely. Dr. Bennett will be here in five minutes.” Her eyes are full of panic.
Ethan and I rush to her room. She’s lying on the bed, unresponsive to light shaking and the sound of her name. I ball my hand into a fist and rub the tips of my knuckles on her sternum. Nothing. I rub again, this time harder. Her head lolls to the side.
I’m not sure if she moved her head or it moved on the account of me trying to stimulate her flaccid body. I gave her one hell of a sternal rub. That should have woken her up.
I check her pulse, it’s rapid and thready. Her skin is hot to the touch. She’s in trouble. “Where the fuck is Dr. Bennett?” I snap.
No sooner do I get the words from my mouth, he comes barging in the door. After a quick set of vital signs and focused assessment, he issues orders of his own.
“We have to get her to the emergency room as soon as possible. You start an IV while I prepare to intubate to protect her airway.” He starts pulling medications out of his bag as I start an IV.
Imight not be a nurse or doctor, but I’ve had lots of practice starting IVs when my men are brought here after being injured on one of my missions.
Hospitals draw too much public attention and they keep records that can be subpoenaed to court. Unfortunately, I am going to have to take that risk, this girl is too sick to be treated here. Dr. Bennett is partially retired. He no longer works for the hospital but has a particular skill set for fixing people who fuck up at night, so he stays on call for me.
“Put these in her IV as fast as you can and push this saline flush in after to make sure there’s none left in the line,” Dr. Bennett orders, handing me the syringes.
Once they’re in, he gets to work intubating and hooking her up to a portable ventilator. Ethan brings in a backboard. We can’t risk dislodging the endotracheal tube by carrying her out of here unstabilized.
Emma is waiting in my parking garage with the SUV. We load the girl in the back, and I climb back there with her and Dr. Bennett, letting Ethan take the front seat.
Dr. Bennett calls the hospital to let them know we’re on our way. I knew a time would come when I would have to get her documents for a new identity, but that time came quicker than expected.
I phone my buddy James in New Orleans and order Ethan to wire the money for an expedited order. $25,000 later, her new identity will be ready in the morning.
Welcome to the family, niece, Emily Ryker.
What the fuck am I doing? My blood boils with annoyance and I clench my jaw. I pride myself on not being a hero in anyone’s story, but I worked too hard pulling her out ofthe river. Risking sacrificing my life for her to lose hers this easily would be a wasted effort if she dies now. I have to see this out.
It’s been three days since we rushed the girl to the hospital. They’ve kept her ventilated and sedated to give her body time to heal. She’s also required multiple antibiotics.
Dr. Bennett said she developed secondary drowning from inhaling river water. If it wasn’t for him, she might not have made it to the hospital. He was the chief trauma surgeon here for over thirty years, so they didn’t question his story when he said she’d fallen out of a fishing boat earlier that day.
Ethan brought her new identities yesterday. He’s a genius with technology so, hopefully, he will be able to hack the hospital’s database and wipe her information after this stay because even I can’t fake insurance coverage.
I’ve stayed by her side every day to play the part of the concerned family member whenever the nurses and doctors come in the room as a diversion, hoping my engagement keeps them from studying her too closely.
Her face has been plastered all over the news as a missing person and now is a potential suspect in the explosion. Police identified the body of the person killed as her father.
I even had her nurse teach me how to do her oral care, which I have meticulously done several times a day. Ethan brought his laptop and spent hours scouring her life outside of here.
Her background check came back unremarkable. Twenty-three years old, mother died in car accident, quit school at sixteen, took the GED, worked at a local diner. There aren’t any previous police reports or hospital stays, which isn’t unusual for Whiskey Rivers since most things go unreported there.
Her school record was squeaky clean. Decent grades, fair attendance, never even served a detention. How boring.
