“Any knives or needles?”
“No,” she repeated in the same tone of voice.
Wilson conducted a thorough search. Nothing was found. “Are either of the Butlers known to carry weapons?”
“What? Are you crazy?” the woman demanded. “They’re doctors, for God’s sake! No, they don’t carry weapons.”
Neither Wilson nor Rogers reacted to her statement. Rogers pointed at the door at the back of the small office. “Does this lead back to the treatment room?”
“Yes,” the woman said.
“Why are there treatment rooms here, anyway?” Wilson asked.
“This is a clinic for those who don’t feel comfortable going into traditional treatment facilities where they ask questions that many of our patients can’t answer.”
Wilson laughed. “Yeah, like why they’re unconscious on a plane.” He nodded toward the door. “Move.”
Delta
From Burke’s location just within the mouth to the hallway, he saw his two teammates approach the white SUV from behind it, a woman beside Wilson, whom he held by her upper arm. As they rounded the front of the SUV, just steps away from a position that would allow Tom and Valerie Butler to see them, both men drew their weapons. Wilson nodded at Burke and Tessman, indicating they should join them as they converged on the treatment room and the Butlers.
“Move forward now,” Burke whispered to Tessman, whose gaze was still on their six.
Burke set the camera onto the floor and pocketed Tessman’s phone, and then drew his weapon in the span of about a second and a half as he took his first step forward. He could feel Tessman moving with him. Neither of their footfalls were heard.
As Burke came into view of the Butlers, so did Wilson, Rogers, and the woman. Both of the Butlers reacted with startled expressions on their faces and gasps. “Let’s keep those hands where we can see them,” Wilson said. He released the woman. “Go over there and join your friends,” he said to her.
Burke fell in beside Wilson and Rogers. Tessman remained with his back to them, his weapon at the ready, scanning the interior of the warehouse for any threats as the woman walked towards the Butlers.
“What is this?” Tom Butler demanded.
“That’s them, the two men who visited me at the urgent care,” Valerie chimed in.
“So much for you being a frightened domestic abuse victim in need of our services,” Burke remarked harshly. “You have a lot of explaining to do.”
“Who are you?” Tom Butler spat.
“The men with guns who have questions you need to answer,” Wilson answered.
“What’s wrong with this man?” Rogers asked, stepping towards the unconscious man on the table.
“He’s merely sedated,” Tom Butler said.
“Who is he, and why is he sedated?” Rogers asked.
“He’s a patient, and this is a private clinic and you’re trespassing,” Tom Butler said.
Burke always found those types of responses comical. “This is a warehouse, and you dragged his unconscious ass from a Cessna out at the municipal airport and transported him here in the back seat of your SUV,” he said, pointing to the car.
“They said they’re law enforcement, but they refused to show me badges or a warrant,” the woman from the front office said.
“I am a medical doctor and I demand,” Tom Butler began, but Wilson interrupted him.
“Shut up, Doc. As a matter of fact, both of you, hands behind your backs.” Wilson was losing his patience.
Burke and Rogers re-holstered their weapons and rushed forward. They had the two secured with their hands bound in zip ties behind their backs seconds later, despite the pair arguing with them, demanding to know who they were, and physically resisting. They forced them to sit in chairs.
“Stay there,” Burke warned, with a hand on Tom Butler’s shoulder when he tried to stand.
