Don't Look Away (Veronica Sloan) (33 page)

Come on, come on, where are you?

Her hand hit the corner of a box that protruded out from the wall. She let go of Sykes, reached up and felt its outline, picturing what Daniels had seen. This one felt smaller, with a hard, metal front and a solid latch on the top.
Medical kit.

Not what she needed.

She grabbed him again, kept going. Three steps. Five. Ten.
Hell, is it higher? Lower? Am I on the wrong damn side?

Finally, her hand brushed something else. She sucked in a breath, released Sykes again, felt along the front, noting slick glass.

Yes. This might be it.

Her fingers worked the bottom latch and she rolled the door up. So far so good. She patted along the inside of the cabinet, praying she didn’t feel a fire extinguisher or a defibrillator.

“Bingo,” she whispered with a relieved sigh when her hands came in contact with what felt like a pair of binoculars.

“What?”

“Sight!”

She reached in, grabbing the night vision goggles. Though these were a different model than she’d ever trained on, she knew enough to get them strapped onto her head. She felt for the switch, found it, flicked it. A faint buzzing sound began, nearly inaudible, and suddenly a shadowy green world opened up all around her.

Smiling in relief, she started to tell Sykes what she’d found. But as soon as she turned toward him, she gasped in horror. Because emerging from the darkness, right behind Jeremy, was a large, black-cloaked figure wearing night vision goggles of his own.

It was Jack Williams.

Sykes was between her and the assailant, blind to his presence.

“Down!” she barked, swinging her weapon up instinctively. Sykes didn’t react at first, having no idea a killer stood three steps behind him. Ronnie tried to shove him out of the way, since he was blocking her shot. Before she could do it, though, Sykes shuddered. She felt a jolt as electricity zipped through his body, leaping into hers, shocking her so hard she stumbled back and dropped her Glock.

Sykes dropped like a stone to the floor, immobilized and defenseless.

She dropped, too, picking her legs up and landing on top of him just as Williams turned toward her and fired his gun. The noise inside this enclosed chamber was deafening, wall-rattling, and her ears rung.

“Bitch!” he screamed.

He’d obviously crept up with the stun gun, hoping to incapacitate one of them before having to give away his presence by firing a shot. And it would have worked, if Ronnie hadn’t found those night vision goggles and been prepared for the assault.

Now he wasn’t launching a surprise attack, and he wasn’t fighting someone who was totally blind. She wasn’t sweet, innocent Leanne Carr. She hadn’t been jumped in an alley, shot with a stun gun, incapacitated by a club to the head. She wasn’t her poor partner who’d been drugged.

She was tough. She was strong. And she absofuckinglutely furious.

She didn’t even waste time trying to find her weapon. She merely reacted, stayed alive, knowing she had to in order to keep Jeremy alive. He wouldn’t be able to defend himself; she was the only chance he had.

And damned if she was going to lose him, not now that she’d finally realized how very much she cared about him.

She instinctively rolled away just as Williams fired again. The smell of gunpowder choked her and she wasn’t hearing much. She could actually feel warm fluid running out of her ears and suspected her eardrums had ruptured. But that was okay. She still had the goggles. She could see that dark form in the eerie greenness. As long as she could see him, she could beat him.

She didn’t hesitate afterward the echo of that last shot ended. She launched off the floor, throwing herself at him. He let out a hard oomph, staggering backward. Ronnie flung her arm out and swatted the gun out of his right hand, then spun around and kicked the stun gun out of his left. He lifted his fists to fight her.

“Bring it on, you piece of shit,” she snarled.

She drew on every moment of training she’d ever had, punching him in the throat, throwing all her weight into the blow. She felt his windpipe crunch, heard the choking cough as he tried to breathe. But he didn’t go down, he continued to fight, hitting her in the midriff, then landing a stinging punch against the wounded side of her head.

That just pissed her off even more. She threw a punishing right in the area of his kidney, backed up and kicked him in the gut so that he flew back against the wall. He slid down it, but as his ass hit the floor, he reached down and drew a long, wickedly-sharp looking knife out of his boot.

“You like cutting up innocent girls?” she yelled, having to raise her voice to hear it. “You pathetic freak, why didn’t you just take a knife and slice your own throat?”

He roared, came at her from below. She leapt back, stumbled over Sykes’s prone form and lost her balance. Falling flat on her back, she felt the breath leave her lungs in a hot, painful gush. She looked up to see Williams crawling closer, the knife gripped in his fist.

Something bumped her arm. She felt the faintest brush of fingertips on her hand, then a hard, blunt object pressed her palm.

Sykes
. Handing over his own weapon.

She grabbed it, wrapped her palm around the grip and swung it straight up just as Williams launched toward her, wildly thrusting his knife in front of him. 

She squeezed the trigger.

Direct hit.

The bullet smashed into the right eye piece of the night vision goggles, through his eyeball and into Jack Williams’s brain. Glass flew, sparks erupted, and he flew back against the wall, sliding down it to a heap on the floor, leaving a trail of blood, skull and matter to mark his descent. 

His reign of terror was over. That offered a hint of satisfaction, but she wasn’t going to celebrate until she found out whether Williams had killed her partner.

Ronnie gave herself a minute—one—to mentally deal with what had just happened. She lay on the floor, gasping, Sykes sprawled beside her. His fingertips brushed her arm and his Glock was on her stomach, her hand still wrapped tightly around its grip.

Knowing Johansen was still out there, and could be injured, though, she forced herself to move. Her head ached, her ears were ringing uncontrollably and she thought she might have a couple of broken ribs where Williams had landed a powerful blow.

She got up. “I’ll be back,” she promised Sykes, whose eyes were opened, but who was unable to speak. “Gotta find Johansen. Get some help.”

He blinked a few times, those incredible blue eyes swimming not with pain but with gratitude. They’d come through this. Despite everything, they were going to be okay. Both of them.

She thought of Daniels and clarified that thought.

All of them. Please God.

Stopping by Williams’s body, she touched his throat and confirmed there was no pulse. Patting him down, she quickly found a phone in his pocket and pulled it out. She wasn’t exactly surprised to see there were no service bars down here—she hadn’t really expected them to be.
No luck but bad luck, right?

Well, no. She wasn’t ever going to think that again, not after how incredibly lucky she and Sykes had just been against a murderous psycho.

Ronnie stumbled up the tunnel, heading toward the Washington Monument. Turning a sharp corner not far from where the lights had gone out, she spied a crumpled heap on the floor ahead. She raced to Johansen, finding him alive, but badly wounded. She utilized one of those emergency medical kits on the wall to staunch the flow of blood from the stab wound in his chest. He was going to die without proper care, and she couldn’t get him out of here by herself. She forced herself to leave the unconscious man, heading down the tunnel, running as fast as she could, praying the goggles didn’t give out before she got to the end, not supposing the screen of Williams’s phone would have enough juice to help much.

At last, the exit. She slammed into the metal emergency bar, and burst into a small room. Spying a set of stairs, she hurried up them, then kicked open a locked door. The moment she was outside, she lifted the unfamiliar phone and dialed 911.

While the phone rang, she drew in several deep, desperate breaths, shaking, adrenaline still coursing through her system. The hot, dirty city air had never tasted so good in her lungs and she breathed deeply, loving every inhalation.

She glanced across the mall. Construction lights shone on the White House, and she couldn’t tear her eyes off it. So bright, so elegant, so beautiful. So cursed?

She didn’t think she’d ever see that building again, for as long as she lived, without her mind trying to paint it red.

As for the monument rising straight and proud, right above her head?

Ronnie turned around in a circle, looking up, seeing the white structure puncture the sky. Lights around the bottom shone up to keep it brightly lit, a symbol of rebirth, renewal and possibility.

She thought about those who had been blown off it, those who had been crushed under it. Those she would never see again.

And for the first time since that day, she felt at peace. Coming up out of that hell here, beside this place that had haunted her nightmares for almost five years, seemed somehow right. It was almost as though her Dad and Ethan had been down there in the blackness with her, urging her through, pulling her along. Bringing her up into the light.

“I love you all,” she whispered, staring past the white tip, up into the night sky, letting her heart say the goodbyes she’d found impossible to say until now.

“I miss you. I’ll never forget you.”

Feeling a warm night breeze blow across her overheated skin, lifting her hair off her neck, she smiled and added one more thing.

“Thank you.”

The first rescue crew took off with Johansen within minutes of hauling him out of the tunnel. Sykes and Ronnie weren’t far behind in a second ambulance. She felt okay—though she knew she probably needed a few stitches and might have to have her chest taped up. But she wasn’t about to let Sykes out of her sight.

Thinking about what could have happened, what
would
have happened if she hadn’t found those goggles and seen Williams right before he attacked, made her shiver with revulsion. She’d been devastated about Daniels. If Sykes had been brutalized, as well, she honestly didn’t think she would ever have been able to get over it.

The realization that his death would have completely destroyed her made her acknowledge she had a lot of thinking to do. But not now, not tonight. There was too much to be thankful for, and, regarding Daniels, too much to hope for.

She kept her hand entwined with Jeremy’s as they rode through the city, sirens and lights blaring. He had started to shake off the electric effects of the stun gun even before the EMT’s had arrived, following Ronnie down into the tunnel. The stronger he got, the more angry he became as he realized how helpless he’d been made by the man who’d killed so many. She tried to calm him down, playing down the danger, glossing over the violence and the pain Williams had inflicted on her. She hoped she didn’t show that her heart had cracked into a thousand pieces at the thought of losing him. She just wasn’t ready to admit that yet…to either of them.

The first person she saw when they pulled up to the emergency entrance was Lieutenant Ambrose. “Sloan!” he barked as they opened the back door and she hopped down, throwing off an EMT’s helping hand.

“I’m fine, sir.”

He grabbed her and pulled her into his arms anyway, like an overprotective Papa Bear. Considering he’d known her father, she figured that was to be expected.

“What the hell happened?”

“Long story.” She wrapped an arm around her aching ribs, trying to physically hold herself together. His hug had reminded her of the pain she’d been trying to conceal. “How’s Daniels?”

For the first time in hours, she saw a warm, genuine smile on someone’s face.

“He’s okay. He’s really gonna be okay.”

She sagged against a column. “Oh, thank God.”

“You’re hurt,” her boss said, taking her arm and supporting her while they watched Sykes being wheeled into the E.R.

“I’m okay. So’s Sykes. Daniels is the main concern. He’s really out of surgery?”

“Out of surgery, but not awake yet. Doctors say they think he’ll be fine. They’re not sure if the reattachment of his hand will work, if he’ll ever regain full use of it, but they are very confident that he’ll live.”

“Can I see him?”

“You’d better get patched up first.”

Knowing the lieutenant was right didn’t make it easier to find patience for the bustling, hovering treatment of the emergency room staff. They’d apparently heard a bit about what had happened and she’d swear every nurse on duty popped in to check on her, obviously wanting to hear some gossip about what was going on at the White House. It took a couple of hours for them to stitch her up, re-staple her head, x-ray her ribs and determine there was one hairline fracture, which they couldn’t do a damn thing about except give her pain pills. Finally, though, she was told she could go check on her partner.

Sykes had recovered from the effects of the electro-shock. While sore, and having shaky muscular control for now, he was going to be fine. He met her at the emergency room exit, asking if it was all right if he went with her to see Daniels.

She hesitated. A few hours ago, she would have said no, absolutely not. Her guilt over what had happened between her and Sykes while Daniels was being attacked would not only have made her be a raging bitch to him, it probably would have made her tell him to just leave town.

But she couldn’t do that. Now, having spent those minutes in the dark, desperate to protect him and make sure he didn’t share Daniels’s fate, she knew she cared much too deeply for Jeremy Sykes to let him walk back out of her life. He meant far too much to her for that.

“Give me a couple of minutes alone with him at first,” she said, hoping he understood.

He, being Sykes, did. “Sure. It’ll be better if you’re the one he sees first. But I do want to thank him—if he hadn’t found that key, we never would have cracked this thing.”

“The key was the key,” she said, trying to make him smile.

He did, at least a little.

They walked together to the ICU, where Daniels was recovering. A nurse saw her—the same one from earlier today—and she gasped at the bandages, bruises and wounds. “Oh, my goodness, honey, were you in a car accident?”

She looked at Sykes. He looked back. They both started to laugh.

Asking the nurse where she could find her partner, she followed the directions down to an open-curtained cubicle. Daniels was lying still and unmoving, monitors beeping beside his bed, thick bandages covering his left hand, all the way up to his elbow. His face was pale, bruised, sunken. His entire body seemed smaller than it had twenty-four hours ago.

But he was alive. Breathing. His heart was beating.

That was as much as she could ask for.

“Mark?” she whispered.

His eyelids flickered, then slowly opened.

She sucked her lips into her mouth, seeing those sad green eyes. Somehow, she knew that he’d been waiting to open them, waiting for hers to be the face he would see. She fought an inner battle against tears and won by reminding herself he would hate to see her cry.

“How are you doing?”

He swallowed, then whispered, “I’ve been better.”

“I’m sure.”

“Good thing I’m right handed, huh?” He glanced toward his bandaged left hand.

Ronnie feigned good humor. “Hey, all you ever do with that hand is flip people off, anyway.”

A rusty laugh emerged from his throat. “You look like shit,” he said.

“Had a little run-in with a friend of yours.”

His brow furrowed as he concentrated. “It’s fuzzy, damn, I can’t remember…”

“Don’t worry, there’s plenty of time.”

She heard the sudden uptick in his heartbeat on the monitor and worried as he tried to sit up on the bed. “Oh, God, Williams? It was Williams, right?”

“Stop it, you’ll tear some stitches.”

“I remember now—Williams was the one who tried to kill me. Jesus, Ron, did you…”

“I got him,” she immediately replied, putting his mind at ease. “Jack Williams is dead and good riddance to bad rubbish.”

He sagged back into the pillows. “Thank God. How?”

She quickly explained, telling him everything that had happened since the moment she’d spotted the key on his video download. She glossed over some of the details—including the few brutal blows Williams had landed on her. But she made sure he understood the most important part: that Jack Williams was dead and would never hurt anyone again.

“I’m glad and all, but it’s weird thinking you’ve been inside my head, Ron. You didn’t sneak a peek at my junk, did  ya?” Easy laughter said he really was on the road to recovery.

“Ha. You wish.”

His laughter slowly faded. “How’s Sykes?”

“He’s fine.” She tensed. “He’s waiting out in the hall. He wants to thank you.”

Daniels shrugged. “Sure. Bring him on in.”

She had to wonder if the pain meds were making her partner a little high, because he sounded perfectly sincere. She waited for a second, thinking he might change his mind, but he just settled more comfortably into his bed.

Taking him at his word, she stepped out, nodded toward Jeremy and gestured for him to join them. Once he had, he thanked her partner, insisting he didn’t know how long Williams would have gotten away with his crimes if Daniels hadn’t found that key.

“Hey, no problem. Just glad you gave Ron some backup. Though, it sounds like she saved your butt.”

“She definitely did,” Sykes said. “Mine and Johansen’s.”

“’Atta girl.”

Ronnie, uncomfortable with the praise, asked, “So, when did you figure out it was Williams? I couldn’t see anything that gave him away on your backups. Did he say something?”

He couldn’t answer right away, having to think about it, and she realized his memories were still very fuzzy. She almost regretted asking, hoping he
never
remembered some of what he’d been through.

“Yeah, I think…I’m pretty sure I recognized his voice right before he shot me.” Another of those painful-sounding, rusty laughs. “Guess you got my message, huh?”

She and Sykes exchanged confused looks.

“Message?” she asked.

“Am I losing it? For some reason I think I tried to spell out his name.”

Her mind spun, her thoughts churning as she remembered what she’d seen in that projection booth. Daniels’s hand and fingers had been twitching, but she’d definitely seen an I and an L….

“Williams! You were trying to spell Williams.”

“Well, yeah, of course,” he said.

Relief flooding her, she cast a quick, slightly triumphant look at Jeremy. Daniels had not gone down weak and emotional, torn up because of some feelings he might or might not have for her. He’d been a cop until what he’d thought would be the very last second of his life. Thinking about the case, about justice. Exactly as she’d known he would.

“Yeah, we got the message,” she said, so happy she felt like kissing him.

“Glad to hear it.” Daniels’s voice was getting softer, weaker, and his eyes drifted closed. They’d been in here almost ten minutes, which was the maximum amount of time allowed for visitors in the ICU. Judging by his weariness, that was for a very good reason.

Sykes cleared his throat. “We were a little confused about one thing.”

Daniels turned his head slightly, opening his eyes. “Yeah?”

“What was the V for?”

Her partner blinked once. Then again. Confusion was visible in his expression—his tight mouth, narrowed eyes. He was trying desperately to remember something. “The V. The V.”

Ronnie lifted her left hand, flashing the sign—pinky and ring finger down, thumb crossed over them. Middle and ring finger straight up. “A V.”

Another moment of concentration, then Daniels began to struggle, trying to sit up, his eyes darting frantically about. His mouth opened and closed a few times and the shrill beeps from his heart monitor suddenly began to race

“Mark, calm down. What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Not a V,” he insisted. “Wasn’t a V.”

She and Sykes exchanged confused looks. But keeping him calm was far more important than figuring out the last few details of the case.

“It’s okay, we’ll talk about it later, just rest now.” She smoothed his covers over him, taking care to avoid his left hand.

He reached for her with his right one. “Listen. You gotta listen.”

She took his hand, bending close. “I’m listening, please, calm down, tell me what’s wrong.”

Sykes came close, too, and Daniels looked back and forth between them, straining to speak, fighting against the pain and drug-induced fatigue. “It wasn’t a V I was making. I figured it out. Williams was with me and Kilgore right before I went down into the tunnel. He was with me, making the list of who knew about it.

She thought about it, considered the scene, began to grasp the timing.

“It was seven-thirty, Ron. He was with me at seven-thirty.”

Oh, God. That meant…

“He couldn’t have been in Richmond killing Eddie Girardo,” whispered Sykes.

“Right.” Daniels swallowed again, pushing words out from his tired throat. “That wasn’t a V, it was the number two.”

Two?

“There were two killers out there, Ronnie. You got Williams. But somebody else killed your Richmond victim. And, I think, Brian Underwood. It was somebody else…a second killer.”

He fell back on the pillow, exhaustion and medication taking him away. Ronnie didn’t move, clutching his hand, unable to speak just yet. His words swam in her mind, echoing and repeating.

She’d thought it was over. Thought she’d faced-and defeated—the demon in that dark hole under the ground. But she’d been wrong.

Evil was still out there.

And she had to stop it.