Blindside by Catherine Coulter
Miles carried Sam up onto the front porch. He saw Beau lying on his back, not even twitching, and he handed Sam to Savich.
He went down on his hands and knees, closed his fist around Beau’s shirt collar, and jerked him up. “Hello, you miserable scum.”
“Get off me, you bastard!”
“Oh, I’m lots more than a bastard. I’m your worst nightmare, Beau. I’m meaner than the man who just kicked your ass. I’m Sam’s father and do you have any idea what I want to do to you?”
“Get him away from me!”
“Oh, no,” Savich said, Sam now hanging about his neck, held real close. “You deserve whatever he wants to do to you. If he wants to, he can kick your tonsils out the back of your neck.”
Miles Kettering pulled Beau to his feet and sent his fist into his jaw. Beau went down and stayed down.
Miles gave him one more dispassionate look, then turned to take Sam from Savich.
“You walloped him good, Papa,” Sam said, and he patted his father’s face, dark with five o’clock shadow. “Can I hit him, too?”
“Nah, he’s had enough. You just stay real close to me until I get over being so scared.”
Sam hugged his father’s neck, really hard. “This is Katie, Papa. She helped me a whole lot.”
Katie stuck out her hand even as she held Keely against her with her other arm. “Mr. Kettering, you’ve got some brave boy here.”
In that instant, Katie saw black smoke billowing up around the front of the van. “Oh no—Fatso, I can’t even see him through that smoke! I forgot about him! I’ve got to get him.” She pushed Keely into Miles Kettering’s arms, and took off running toward the van.
Savich, who saw flames licking up from beneath the van, yelled, “No, wait! No, Sheriff!” He leapt off the porch and ran after her. He yelled over his shoulder, “Miles, protect the kids!”
Katie was no more than twelve feet from the van when she was tackled from behind, hard, and smashed facedown into the wet ground.
In the next instant there was a loud explosion, and the van blew up in a ball of orange, parts flying everywhere. He was covering all of her, his head on top of hers, his arms covering both their heads. The heat whooshed toward them, sucking the air out of their lungs, heavy, scalding.
She heard him grunt. Oh God, something had hit him. She heard him suck in a breath, then she did the same.
Then it was over. Everything was still again, except she could hear Keely crying, “Mama, Mama.”
He’d saved her life. He’d known the van was going to blow, and he’d brought her down.
Katie said, trying to turn over, “Agent Savich, are you all right?”
He grunted again, then she felt his determination as he pulled himself off her.
She was up in an instant, standing over him as he remained on his knees, head down, breathing hard.
“Your back. Oh God, your back!”
She looked up to see that Miles Kettering had both children pressed against the side of the house, protecting them, just as Agent Savich had told him to. Had he known, too, that the van was going to blow?
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, I’m so sorry.” She was on her knees beside him now. “Just hold still.”
But Savich rose slowly, managed to straighten. “I saw the flames, you didn’t. We survived it. I’m all right.” He could feel the rain hitting his back, feel the pain building and building. He could also feel his blood flowing, and that wasn’t good. He looked over at the van, engulfed in bright orange flames, black smoke sizzling into the air, rain mixing with it, making it filthy black soot.
“Yeah, sure you are, Agent Savich. You just come with me.” She was leaning down to grasp him under his arm, when she heard Beau yell, “All right, you jerks, it’s my turn now!”
She whirled around to see Beau leaning against the porch railing, his own gun in his hand. She should have cuffed him—even if she believed he was dead, she should have cuffed him. “You bastard, you killed Clancy! Ain’t nothing left of him but vapor. But now I’m gonna take that boy.”
Sam was tucked against his father’s leg, Keely against him. Miles pressed the children more firmly against the side of the house, shouted over his shoulder, “Give it up, Beau, just give it up.”
“Send the boy over, or I’ll have to kill you, Mr. Kettering.”
“Then do it,” Miles said. “Neither Sam nor Keely is going anywhere.”
Katie could tell that Agent Savich was going to go after Beau again. She couldn’t let that happen. She watched Beau raise his gun, watched him aim that gun at Miles Kettering. She leaned down, smoothly pulled her derringer from her ankle holster, and fired.
She got him through the neck.
“Ah” was all Beau said, clutched his throat, and turned to face her, the gun swinging her way.
She fired again, this time a death shot, even for a derringer, through his chest. Beau fell off the porch, landing on his back, his eyes open to the rainy night. The orange ball of flame flickered in his open eyes.
Miles Kettering said, his arms wrapped tight around the children’s heads, “Sam, I’ve got to see to things here. Promise me that you and Keely won’t move an inch. Keep your faces against the house, that van just might blow up some more. Do you hear me? Not an inch.”
Miles raced down, pulled Savich over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and went into the house. Both children raced after him. Good, she didn’t want them to see Beau.
“Put him on his belly on the sofa. I’ll call nine-one-one,” Katie said and quickly dialed. She got Marge, who always sounded breathless, told her to get an ambulance out here, and Wade, too, then hung up. “Not more than ten minutes. Now, let’s see how bad you’re hurt, Agent Savich.” But first she’d have to move her daughter aside.
Savich said, “You’re Keely?” One of his arms was dangling over the side of the sofa, and his feet hung off the other end.
The little girl gently smoothed her fingertips over his face. “I’m Keely and my mama will take care of you. She takes care of everybody. Do you know they pay her to do that?”
Savich didn’t want to laugh, but it came out of him anyway. It died in a gasp. His back was on fire.
“I’m glad they pay her, Keely. How bad is it, Sheriff?”
It was Miles who said, “You’ve got a long horizontal gash, middle of your back, just above your waist, probably from a piece of flying metal. It doesn’t look too deep, Savich, but it’s nasty. You just hang on. Here’s the sheriff.”
“We need to apply some pressure, Agent Savich—”
“Just Savich. Or Dillon, that’s what my wife calls me.”
“Okay, Dillon, I’ll be right back. I’m going to have to put some pressure on this wound and it’s going to hurt, I’m sorry.”
Savich closed his eyes and willed himself far away, back with Sherlock and Sean, his own little boy.
“Miles?”
“Yes, I’m right here, Savich.”
“You sure Sam’s okay?”
“I’m here, Uncle Dillon,” Sam said, and patted Savich’s shoulder. “Keely and I are both fine. Did you see the sheriff shoot Beau? Whap! She got him right in the neck, then shot him again when he turned that gun on Papa.”
So much for protecting the children, Katie thought as she came back into the living room with a thick towel. She leaned down and pressed the towel hard against the wound.
Savich didn’t know where the moan came from, didn’t know he had it in him. The woman was very strong.
“Tell me what happened, Sheriff,” Savich said.
Keely, her fingers still touching his cheek, said, “I heard that bad man talking to Mama in the living room, and I knew he wanted Sam.”
Katie said, “And so you made a lump in your bed with a pillow, and went to wake up Sam.”
The little girl nodded. She stuck her hand out to Sam, who took it. “He shoved up the window in my room and we climbed out on my oak tree.” She frowned. “Sam wanted to help you but
“That’s his sorry self, yes,” Katie said. “Now, Dillon, how are you doing?”
“Okay,” he said, and she heard the pain in his voice.
“You don’t seem to be bleeding through the pressure. The paramedics should be here any minute. You’re going to be okay.”
“Make sure you keep the kids with you.”
“You can count on that,” Miles said, and he knew that all the adults wondered what could possibly motivate those two to come after Sam again. Money, there had to be lots of money in it for them.
Katie looked from Keely to Sam. “Now we’ve got two heroes. Well done, kids.”
They heard the sirens in the distance.
Katie lightly patted his shoulder. “Just another minute. I guess Clancy is dead. I can’t get near the van, the flames are just too hot and the smoke’s too thick.”
“He couldn’t have survived that blast,” Savich said. “Don’t worry about it.”
She heard men’s voices outside, one she recognized. “It’s Wade, one of my deputies.”
“Ho! What the hell happened here? You got a dead guy out here drinkin’ rain.”
Katie walked to the front door. “Bring everyone inside, Wade. The paramedics will be here momentarily. Agent Savich’s back was cut by a piece of metal.”
9
Mackey and Bueller helped Savich to the ambulance—it felt like a five-mile hike to Savich, who didn’t think he’d ever want to walk straight again—then eased him down on his stomach onto the gurney.
“It’ll be all right, Special Agent, sir,” said Mackey, so impressed with having a federal officer as his patient that he nearly stuttered. “Sheriff, are you coming with us?”
“Oh, yes. Give me a minute, Mackey.” She turned to Miles Kettering who was holding Keely in one arm and Sam in the other. “Could you bring the children to the hospital, Mr. Kettering? Oh goodness, they’re all wet. Could you change them into dry clothes? As you can see, Sam’s wearing my sweats. You’ll find another pair in my bedroom, folded in the second drawer of the dresser. They’re drawstring, so you can pull them tight enough for Sam. All of Keely’s clothes are in her dresser.”
“Don’t worry, Sheriff, I’ll see to both of them. Just go with Savich. And thank you.”
She kissed her daughter’s cheek, wishing she hadn’t witnessed all the violence, and knowing she’d have to deal with it sooner rather than later. As for Sam, at least he was with his father now.
As she walked quickly back to the ambulance, Katie said to Wade, “Glen Hodges, FBI Special Agent in Charge from Knoxville, will be here very soon with a couple of agents. Just secure the scene and if any idiots chance to come out here to stop and gawk, threaten to toss them in jail. Oh yes, Wade, do give the FBI all your cooperation. It’s their case since it’s a kidnapping, and it happened in Virginia.”
“No problem, Sheriff,” Wade said, and walked over to where Beau still lay on his back, rain splashing off his face.
“He won’t be causing any more trouble. As for that van, we can’t get close yet, it’s still burning too hot.”
“The guy inside was Clancy,” Katie said. “Call the fire department, have Chief Hayes come out here and clean up the mess.”
Keely called out, “Mama, you take care of Uncle Dillon.”
“What?”
“That’s Agent Savich,” Miles said.
“I will, Keely, don’t worry.” So many new people in her life in a very short time, and one of them hurt because of her. She jumped into the back of the ambulance, closed the doors, and settled herself in. “I’m set. Let’s go, guys.”
Mackey had Savich propped up on his side and Bueller had unbuttoned his shirt and scissored his undershirt open down the front so he could attach the EKG monitors. He said to Savich, “We’ll let the doctor take care of getting the clothes off that wound. Just a moment more, Agent, sir, and you’ll be better. It’s important to keep you still now.”
Savich grunted.
When they at last settled him on his stomach, Mackey slipped oxygen clips into his nostrils. “That should feel a bit better.”
It did, thank the good Lord.
“Just a little nip here in the arm, Agent,” Mackey said. “I’m going to start an IV.”
Mackey got it on the first try, for which Savich was grateful.
“Now, Agent, sir, we’re going to apply a little more pressure to the wound,” Mackey said. “You just try breathing as normally as you can and hold still.”
When Savich had the pain controlled, he opened his eyes to see the sheriff on her knees beside him, holding his hand, which was hanging off the side of the gurney. Katie saw his control. He was a strong man, not just physically. She said, “Thank you for saving my life, Agent Savich.”
“It’s Dillon. You’re welcome. You didn’t have to come in the ambulance. There’s lots to do back at your house.”
“Oh, yes I did.” She smiled at him and kept stroking his hand. She said after a moment, “I should have realized that where there’s smoke—”
“Gasoline was leaking out, and the heat was building up fast. I just didn’t know how long it would be before it blew. A little more time would have been nice, though.”
“I wonder if that could happen with my big Vortec V8 engine.”
Savich couldn’t help himself, he smiled through the god-awful pain. If she’d come along to distract him she was doing a good job. “Yeah, it could even happen with that engine.”
Katie said, seeing that reaction, “She’s got three hundred horses at forty-four hundred rpm. Isn’t that something?”
“She?”
“My truck. I know she’s female. She just doesn’t have a name.”
“Three hundred horses, yeah, that’s something, all right.”
His eyes closed a moment; it was time for her to move on, time to get serious here. She said, “My mom told me once that learning lessons always hurt, only this time you took the hit for me. I owe you, Dillon. You saved my life.”
“Everything’s looking good, Agent, sir,” Mackey said. “Your EKG’s A-okay, and the bleeding’s nearly stopped. I’m sorry we can’t give you anything for the pain. You hanging in there?”
“I’m hanging in,” Savich said. “Katie, would you please call my wife in Washington, D.C.? She’s not much into truck engines, though, so you might not want to go there.”
Katie pulled out her cell phone from the T-shirt pocket beneath her wet sweatshirt. “I could teach her.”
He smiled. That was good.
“Okay, give me the number.”
Savich closed his eyes as he gave her the phone number, to keep the moan in his throat.
“What’s her name?”
“Sherlock.”
Katie guessed he wasn’t kidding about her name. One ring, two, then “Hello? Dillon, is that you? What’s going on? Are you all right? What about Sam—”
“I’m calling for your husband, Mrs. Savich,” Katie said, and automatically lowered her voice to make it soothing and calm. “I’m Sheriff K. C. Benedict calling from Jessborough, in eastern Tennessee. Your husband asked me to call you, ma’am. Let me assure you that he’s all right, Mrs. Savich. He—”
“Put Dillon on, please, Sheriff.”
Katie held the phone to his ear.
Savich drew a deep breath, hoping he was wiping all the damnable pain out of his voice. Sherlock could hear the smallest sound; she could even hear Sean’s breathing change before he hollered. “Sherlock? It’s me. No, no, I’m okay, just a little problem. Yes, we got Sam back. He’s fine. So is Miles. What little problem? Well, you see this van blew up and I was a bit too close to it. I got hit in the back by some flying metal.”
He closed his eyes, feeling the pain trying to draw him in. He really wanted to give in to it, but he wasn’t about to scare Sherlock out of her wits.
Katie simply took the cell and said
Savich managed to say “Tell her not to come here” before his brain swam away.
He heard the sheriff talking, but he didn’t know if she was still speaking to Sherlock. He knew Sherlock was scared. If he’d gotten a call like this about her he would freak himself. He saw the sheriff lift her wet sweatshirt and slip the small bright blue cell phone back into the T-shirt pocket.
He couldn’t seem to stop looking at that cell phone even after she’d pulled the sweatshirt back down over it. Blue, it was a bright blue, ridiculous, really, but on the other hand, she’d never lose it. Blue for cops. He liked that. He closed his eyes, wanting very much to control the blasted pain. He could picture the sharp slice in his back, not an appetizing image. He really wished Sherlock were here even though he’d asked her not to come. Of course she’d be here as soon as humanly possible.
He was vaguely aware that Katie was speaking in a slow deep voice. “—my truck also has stainless-steel exhaust manifolds.”
Manifolds?
“And a high-capacity crankshaft that’s internally balanced. That reduces stress on the crankshaft, don’t you know. Did I tell you it was raining so hard this afternoon that I could barely see ten feet in front of me, even though I have the remarkable high-speed and twice-as-thick grade F windshield wipers on my truck?”
He wanted to laugh and she saw it.
But Savich didn’t hear any more after that, just sounds that were soothing, as she was used to speaking to someone who was hurt or not quite with it. Like him.
He didn’t rouse his brain until they were in the hospital emergency room and a nurse came forward and directed the four men to lift him from the gurney onto one of the narrow beds.
He heard the nurse speaking to the paramedics, heard Bueller give her a report on what had happened, heard the nurse greet the sheriff. She checked his IV and began cutting off his clothes. “Goodness, you’re dirty, Agent Savich. Not to worry, we’ll clean you up. You just keep holding on to his hand, Sheriff.”