Enigma (FBI Thriller #21)(32)

Elena said, “No, not tomorrow. Consider this a camping and hiking vacation. All you need to know is that we’ll keep you safe from the FBI.”

“So we’re marking time in the forest until the heat is off? Not a bad plan. How long?”

“I’ll let you know,” Elena said.

Manta Ray hadn’t expected she’d tell him any more. He said nothing, took off his boot and his thick sock, and aimed his headlight at his foot.

Elena frowned, leaned toward him. “What are you doing?”

“My heel hurts.”

Jacobson was emptying a small bag of peanuts into his mouth. “What do you mean it hurts?”

“It’s red, and it hurts to touch it. I’m getting a blister. Why didn’t you get the right size boot?”

“It is the right size,” Elena said. “But you never can be sure about a fit unless you try the boots on and walk around in them for a while. Jacobson, give him the first-aid kit.”

Jacobson gave her a look but got the first-aid kit out of his backpack, tossed it to Manta Ray. Elena watched Manta Ray gingerly rub Neosporin on his heel, press some gauze over the blister, and wrap an Ace bandage over and around his foot to hold it in place.

It was all she needed, an infected blister. She’d intended to keep their pace slow, no reason not to, since they were trying to kill time anyway. He was looking at his foot, turning it this way and that. She couldn’t believe it, but even his feet were beautiful, like Michelangelo’s David. She remembered the first time she’d seen Liam’s photo, remembered her hormones had come to attention. He was a looker, no doubt about it. She bet he had phenomenal success with women.

She gave Liam a bright smile. “It’s been a long day. Your heel will be better in the morning. Get some rest.”

He started to open his mouth but decided against it. He eyed the sleeping bag. No way did he want to zip himself into that skinny confining coffin. No, he wanted to stretch out and fall asleep by a nice cozy fire. He ended up lying on top of the sleeping bag. He watched Elena pull off her boots, crawl into the sleeping bag. He went over in his mind how he would deal with the boss. He knew he was the golden goose. If the boss forgot that, he was the biggest fool alive.

The air was still and warm. Jacobson was snoring. Manta Ray closed his eyes and remembered himself as a young man of eighteen, at home in the underbelly of Belfast, and for a moment felt the glow of exhilaration. And the winning, he’d loved the winning, and seeing the faces of those who knew he’d bested them, even if he had to beat or bludgeon a few to make them understand. And of course the money. His mum had complained about where it came from but she took it anyway. Then he was nabbed after beating a stupid copper and sent to the Maze prison, where real hunger was only a small part of the endless misery. Liam Ryan Hennessey, you are hereby sentenced to five years imprisonment at the Maze prison, commencing immediately.

He could still hear the gavel bang down, hear his mum weeping.





19




WASHINGTON MEMORIAL HOSPITAL

WASHINGTON, D.C.

MONDAY NIGHT

Kara Moody had no more tears, not even anger toward the people who’d let that woman steal Alex. It hadn’t helped trying to fan her rage at the hospital, against fate, against God, against anyone she could think to blame. She found herself floating in a kind of blackness, with nothing to hold on to. Every few minutes a nurse came in to sit with her, repeating endlessly how the FBI would bring Alex back, and she pretended to listen, nodding her head occasionally. But deep down, she wondered if she would slowly dissolve into that blackness and let it carry her away. She stared across her room at the empty bassinet, Alex’s bassinet. Dr. Janice had been there, sitting with her, staying close, saying little. Of course everyone knew Alex had been kidnapped, because of the Amber Alert, and Dr. Janice had fielded calls for her.

It was late, but she couldn’t sleep, didn’t want to sleep really, so finally she got out of bed, pulled on the ancient pink robe Dr. Janice had brought her from home, slid her feet into her old tatty rabbit slippers, and slipped out of her room. The hallway was empty, the nurses’ station thirty feet away. She saw a maternity ward guard, not the same one who’d let them take Alex, but another, younger man who looked bored. She waited until he went to the break room and slipped down the stairs to the third floor.

When she stepped onto the floor, she realized she didn’t know what room John Doe was in. Then she saw a policeman down the hall, his seat tilted back against the wall, a magazine in his hand. She watched him awhile, decided he wasn’t going to go relieve himself anytime soon, and walked up to him. He saw her coming from the corner of his eye and became immediately alert, his hand going to the gun at his waist.

“Officer, I’m Kara Moody. I’m the woman the man in there tried to save.” I’m also the new mother whose baby was stolen. She couldn’t say those words aloud, couldn’t get them to even form in her mouth. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know his name.”

Officer Ted Rickman, night shift, said, “No one does. They’re calling him John Doe.” He eyed her up and down. “What are you doing here, Ms. Moody? It’s after midnight.”

“I know he’s unconscious, but I need to see him. However crazy he seemed, he believed he was saving me and my baby from something. May I see him?”