Breaking Away (8 page)

“I’d take it easy if I were you, sir. You forgot to sign in when you first arrived. I’ll make a note that you’re on board. Be sure to sign in the first opportunity you have. We like to keep a record of who’s on the premises so we won’t keep checking the boats over and over.”

Flash nodded. “Roger that. And I’ll sign in when I gas her up tomorrow morning, Ed.”

“Thanks. Appreciate it. You have a good evening.”

“Will do.” Flash released a breath as the man turned away.

After closing and locking the cabin door, he slumped onto the bunk and cradled his throbbing head in his hands. Adrenaline spiraled from his system, leaving him jittery. But the pumped, high-alert feeling, as though his body were poised for action at any moment, lingered. It was like being back in Iraq all over again. Except he was in his own back yard and someone he’d trusted had screwed him.
God damn it!

He had to have an exit strategy in case what he’d planned went south. He had to think this through.

Would Gilbert try to play it straight and turn him in? Somehow Flash doubted it. As long as the cash and artifacts were out of reach, he’d be covering his ass. FBI never admitted mistakes. If Gilbert weren’t involved in Dobson’s death, he’d be pulling out the stops to find Flash.
And the goods.
Then he’d lay every fuck-up on Flash and try to bury him.

After their conversation on the phone, there was no doubt left in Flash’s mind the man was involved. Had they been able to take Flash out along with the others, they’d have the money and the artifacts. And could make up any story they wanted. After all, they had three suspects down; the lead in the investigation was dead, and the only ones left standing would have been the guys in partnership with Gilbert.

Flash dragged his backpack over and removed the FBI badges from an inner pocket. Why would they be fool enough to carry their ID if they were going to assassinate someone? And that’s exactly what they’d done. They’d shot down the smugglers in cold blood.

They hadn’t counted on his survival. And they’d been arrogant about their success. Their overconfidence had saved Flash’s life at the time. But now it raised the threat level to DEFCON 1.

These two assholes, he glanced down at the names on the ID, Harrison and Ballard, would probably get a fucking commendation for being injured during an operation.

He reached for the prepaid phone, one of several he’d purchased earlier in the day, flipped it open, and keyed in a number. He’d hoped never to have to make a call like this. Especially not to him.

“This better be someone I know,” a voice grated in his ear.

“Travis, this is Flash.”

“Hey, son.” The man’s tone changed immediately. “What’s happening?”

“I’m in trouble. And I need help.”

CHAPTER 7

Las Vegas

S
amantha Cross studied Dr. Simons’ face. In the last four years, she’d learned to read quick changes of expression to avoid a shove, a slap or a beating. She’d honed her powers of observation to a fine point. Dr. Simons wasn’t really sorry for ignoring her concerns and warnings, he was pissed that he had to apologize to her for ignoring them.

“Is the nurse okay?” she asked.

“Nurse Gooding will be off work for about a week.”

“I’m sorry. I hope she’ll file charges.”

“The hospital is going to see to that.”

“Until Chaney comes in and offers them a ton of money to build a new wing.” There was an edge of bitterness in Sam’s voice.

“We have to guarantee our patients’ and employees’ safety, Mrs. Cross. That includes yours.”

“Sure.” She looked up at him. “You’ll tell the nurse thank you for me.
She
tried to protect me.” She allowed a smidgeon of emphasis to color the word “she.”

The doctor eyes shifted away. “I’ll tell her.”

“When can I get out of here? I have to file the paperwork for the restraining order before Will gets out of jail.” She eased further onto her left side. Her ribs screamed in protest. She shut her eyes against the pain until it eased.

“The hospital has filed a restraining order. Should he come within five hundred yards of the building, he’ll be arrested again.” The doctor’s eyes trailed over her arms, and face. “Should you need me to testify on your behalf, Mrs. Cross, I’ll be available.”

Sam focused on one of the uneven circular bruises that marked her forearm. Last night adrenaline had partially numbed the pain of her injuries. Today she felt each and every one of them. Tears blurred her vision and she touched the patch over her injured eye.

“Now that the hospital has gotten involved, the police have sent a forensic specialist to take pictures of your injuries and gather a copy of your medical files for evidence.”

Will had finally taken on someone with more power than he had. If only he could go to jail for a long, long time. Maybe she could stop being afraid. Anxiety raced along her nerve endings and she gripped the thin blanket on the bed and held it against her. Her throat grew tight and her breathing uneven. “They’ve sent a woman?”

“Yes, of course.”

This was just the beginning of the long road to putting her life back on track. She had to suck it up and do whatever it took for Joy’s sake—and her own. The shame of having people see her like this turned her stomach. She had to have a moment before facing that humiliation. “When will I get this patch off?”

“Dr. Greenway, one of our ophthalmologists, will be in to do a thorough exam later today. You still seem to have a lot of swelling around the eye socket.”

Dr. Simons stepped to the door and motioned for someone to enter.

No!
The word rose in her throat and she bit it back. She could do this. It would be proof they could use against Will in court. Maybe.

Her mouth grew dry and she clutched the blanket harder. A small woman of Asian descent, perhaps Japanese or Korean, entered the room, a satchel hanging across her narrow shoulder and a large camera in her hand. Ink-black hair cupped her chin in a soft bob and bangs brushed her brows. Her dark eyes settled on Sam while Doctor Simons introduced her.

“This is Tammi Mai, Mrs. Cross. She’s a police department evidence recovery technician.”

Sam tipped her head in acknowledgement.

“If there’s anything you need, just page the nurse,” Simons said. He left and closed the door behind him.

“I’m just here to get some photographs and take your statement about what happened last night, Mrs. Cross,” Tami said. “Your earlier statement has already been filed.”

Sam nodded.

The woman pulled a straight-backed chair close to the bed and sat down.

Sam studied the young woman’s face with her one eye. “Can I see your identification?”

“Sure.” Ms. Mai reached into her satchel, pulled a small wallet free and extended it to her.

Sam studied the ID. “I suppose you have to do this a lot.” She handed the badge back.

“More than I want to.”

Sam remained silent for a moment. Could she trust this woman? Did she have a choice? “What do you want to know?”

“Is it okay if I tape our conversation?”

Sam nodded.

“How long has your husband been doing this? Tammi asked.

“Three and a half years. We’d been married about six months when he slapped me the first time.”

“Why did you stay?”

“He was so sorry, he begged me to forgive him. He swore it would never happen again. And, like a fool, I believed him.”

“Then?”

“I was seven months pregnant when Will slammed my head into a wall and gave me a concussion. I pressed charges and he was arrested. When I showed up in court, I was told the time of the hearing had been changed and, since I hadn’t shown up, Will had been released. He came home that afternoon while I was packing to leave and told me if I ever tried to have him arrested again, he’d kill me. If I tried to leave, he’d kill me. I believed him.”

“What triggered his latest attack?”

“He was already upset about something. I have no idea what. The angrier he became, the more our daughter Joy did her babbling baby talk. I could see the violence building, so I got the car keys and was going to take Joy to McDonalds until he either left or calmed down. He grabbed the keys out of my hand and locked Joy in her room, said I was treating her like a baby and that was why she was talking like one.”

“How old is she?”

“She’s four. But when she senses he’s angry, she starts using baby talk. I tried to explain to him when he gets angry he frightens her. He said I blamed him for everything and punched me in the stomach. I went down and curled into a ball. Will has been fixated on having a son lately. I think his father’s been harping on wanting a grandson to follow in their footsteps. Will threw away my birth control pills three months ago, but I got a refill and hid it. But the month I missed my pills—” She swallowed against the pain. She should have run away the moment she suspected she was pregnant. The baby would still be alive if she had run.

Sam swallowed and looked away. “I knew I was pregnant. I tried to protect the baby. He kicked me in the ribs and told me to get up. I couldn’t. The last thing I remember is his fist coming at my face. When I woke up, I was hemorrhaging, the living room was destroyed and Joy was still locked in her room screaming. The neighbors found me and called 911.”

“What happened last night?”

“I had called my grandmother. I wanted to check on her and Joy because I was anxious about Will locating them. He’s threatened to kill them both if I talked to the police. I was so tired and my ribs hurt, so I couldn’t reach the phone, so the nurse helped me. After I was through talking, I pushed the off button and pressed the call button for the nurse so she could hang it up for me.”

“When someone came into the room, I thought it was her. The person hung up the phone, but stood next to the bed and waited. I opened my eyes and it was Will.”

The room blurred. Her breathing hitched. Will’s hand covered her mouth. She could taste the sweat on his hand as he pushed against her bruised face. Pain shot up through her eye, her temple, and she touched the patch.

Tammi rested her hand on her arm.

Sam jerked. She stared down at the small hand with its perfectly trimmed nails as it rested on her skin. She clung to the reality of it, until the flashback receded.

The woman’s chocolate brown eyes held hers for a moment. “Just take it slow. I’m going to ask you some questions.”

“Could I have a drink of water?” Her mouth was dry as the Nevada desert.

“Sure.” Tammi rose and filled the plastic cup from a small, insulated pitcher and handed it to her.

Sam cupped the container in her hand and allowed the solidity to ground her.

The woman’s gentle, unhurried technique pulled every detail of the assault from Sam’s memory. After she’d gone over every moment of the attack the night before, every muscle in her body felt weak from the constant tension. Her legs shook beneath the blanket.

“I need to take some photos of your injuries,” Tammi said. She turned off the recorder. “Do you think you can stand?”

Though she wasn’t sure, Sam nodded.

Tammi lowered the side of the bed. Sam flipped back the covers and slid free of them, her movements careful. Her hand went to her ribs. Her legs felt spongy and weak.

The nurse had given her a sanitary napkin and a belt. Every time she felt the flow between her legs, a fresh wave of regret and guilt engulfed her. She should have run away. She should have left the moment she thought she was pregnant.

“Who is going to see these pictures?” she asked.

“Possibly only the lawyers and the judge. Most assault cases are settled outside a courtroom.”

Sam swallowed against the knot of tears in her throat. “If it goes before a jury?”

“They may see them, or the defense may try to suppress them. But before it goes to trial the attorneys have to go before a grand jury. If the defense sees these pictures, they may decide to take a plea. But at least what Will Cross did to you will be on the record, and he’ll have to face the consequences of what he did.”

Tears clouded Sam’s eyes. “He won’t care. If he cared, he could never have hurt me like this.” She pulled the string at the back of her neck and tugged at the front of the hospital gown to free her arms. She let it go and the gown fell to the tile floor. “The only thing he’ll care about is that someone finally knows what he does in his spare time.”