C Box - Below Zero

“We’re not her parents,” Marybeth said, shaking her head. “We’re here as, well, what are we, Joe?”

Joe shrugged. “We thought she was someone else,” he said to the hospital staffer.

The staffer, whose hospital ID read SARA MCDOUGAL, waited for more explanation with her eyebrows arched.

“I’m sorry,” McDougal said, finally, “so you’re not related or friends with Janie Doe in any way?”

Joe and Marybeth shook their heads, but Marybeth said, “We want to be here for her, though.”

“Even though you say you don’t know her?” McDougal said gently, trying to tamp down the doubt and suspicion that lurked beneath her question.

“That’s correct,” Marybeth said.

“Well, that’s interesting.”

Joe said, “Yup.”

McDougal made a point of reading the document on her clipboard studiously, although it was apparent she was really trying to figure out which way she wanted to go with the discussion. She said, “I hate to ask you at a time like this, especially given your, um, lack of a relationship with Janie Doe, but do you know who is responsible for paying for her medical care? Does she have insurance?”

“We have no idea,” Marybeth said flatly.

“Is she a resident of the county?”

Marybeth said, “I doubt it. We heard a rumor she might be from Chicago, but we’ve got no proof of that.”

“Does she qualify for Medicare? Medicaid? Does the State of Illinois have some kind of insurance for its residents?”

“I don’t know,” Marybeth said, steel in her voice.

“How are we going to resolve this?” McDougal asked. “Someone’s got to be responsible.”

“I’m losing my patience with you,” Marybeth said to her. “I know you have a form to fill out, but this is a very difficult situation without easy answers. We’ll work something out, I’m sure.”

After McDougal walked away, her heels clicking down the hallway, Joe asked Marybeth, “Work it out how? This is going to cost thousands of dollars. And if she requires long-term care… how can we help her?”

He was surprised when Marybeth responded with a slight conspiratorial smile. “I’ve got an idea,” she said.

Before she could explain, Coon stormed down the hallway. “Joe, there you are. Stenko and Robert’s trail has gone cold and we need to talk. Do you have a minute?”

“Slow down,” Joe said to Coon. “Let me introduce my wife, Marybeth. Marybeth, this is Special Agent Chuck Coon of the FBI.”

Coon took a breath and said to her, “I’m sorry I was rude. I have better manners than that.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said. “Thank you for what you did to rescue the… girl in here.”

Joe could tell she struggled through the last few words.

Coon was confused and looked to Joe for an explanation.

“It’s not April Keeley,” Joe said. “We don’t know who she is and we won’t know unless she comes out of her coma.”

“What?” Coon cried, and bent forward at the waist with his palms out, as if someone had delivered a blow to the back of his neck. “I was hoping she could help us find Stenko. She’s the only one who knows what they’re up to or what they might do next.”

“She can’t talk,” Joe said.

“She may never talk,” Marybeth added softly. “She has very little brain activity. They don’t know if they can bring her back.”

He turned and walked away, cupping the top of his head with his hand, saying, “Jesus, help us.”

Joe said to Marybeth, “I’ll just be a minute.”

“Take your time,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

JOE FOLLOWED COON down the stairs and out through a heavy door marked EMERGENCY EXIT-DO NOT OPEN into a side parking lot of the hospital. The night was crisp and cool, the stars beaming through light cloud cover.

Coon fished a pack of cigarettes out of his sport coat and tapped one out.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Joe said.

“Officially, I don’t,” Coon said, lighting up. “I haven’t for the past year. Want one?”

“No thanks.”

“So did she say anything at all before she went under?” Coon asked. “Anything at all?”

Joe shook his head.

“Man, this is terrible. Portenson sent me here to question her. We need to know what she knows.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, me too. Like I said, Stenko’s trail has gone cold. Portenson’s pulled out all the stops to find him as fast as we can. His name and photo is out nationwide, and he’s doing press conferences and interviews one after the other. We’ve got the national cable news networks interested, and they’re lining up.”

Joe said, “I saw it on the news. I was surprised you guys went so high-profile so fast.”

Coon nodded and sucked on his cigarette. “Yeah, me too. We’ve really got our necks out there this time. With all the stuff that’s been happening with the Bureau in general and our incident this morning in particular, we can’t afford to screw this up worse than it’s already been screwed up. And my boss is nearly crazed. He knows if he doesn’t deliver Stenko within twenty-four hours and make that incident this morning peripheral to the big arrest, he’ll look like an idiot. We’ll all look like idiots.”

“But if you find him,” Joe said, “it may turn out to be Portenson’s ticket out of here.”

“That’s what he’s thinking,” Coon said. “You know how the bureaucracy works. He doesn’t even want to consider any other outcome at this point. Which brings us back to the situation at hand. Is there anything we can do to get that girl to talk?”

Joe said, “You’re starting to piss me off, Chuck. There’s an unknown teenage girl in there fighting for her life. As far as we know she’s completely innocent-maybe even a kidnap victim. My family’s been turned upside down. Show a little compassion, will you?”

Coon stopped pacing and looked Joe over. He said, “I’m sorry. You’re right. But I’m not sure what to do. Every minute Stenko is getting farther away and we don’t even know what direction.”

Joe leaned back against the brick wall of the hospital and bent a knee so his boot rested against it as well. “Are you searching the area of the crash?”

Coon said, “The sheriff has his people all over it. Your governor agreed to send troopers and DCI personnel. So far, no one’s reported anything.”

“Have they checked with all the local ranchers? Found out if they saw Stenko or Robert?”

“Yeah, all of that. Not all the ranchers were there, though, which leads us to believe that maybe the Stensons found a vehicle somewhere and took the owner with them.”

Joe whistled. He knew it would be a matter of time before someone local reported a missing person. But given the isolation of the area where residents might not see each other for days-or realize someone was not there-the delay could be fatal to the investigation.

“The pressure’s on,” Coon said needlessly, tossing the cigarette aside and digging for another. “When we left the crash scene with the injured girl, we might have lost our chance to get on top of Stenko and Robert. They couldn’t have gotten very far at that point. We might have been able to run them down.”

“You did the right thing,” Joe said. “You saved her life bringing her here.”

Coon snorted. “Fat lot of good that’s going to do me now.” Then, looking up, “I’m sorry I just said that. Really. You’re right, Joe. But you don’t have to be the one to tell Portenson what’s happened.”

“I’d like you to find them, too,” Joe said. “The only way we might be able to learn about who is up there in that hospital room is to find out from Stenko.”

“I might need a couple of drinks before I tell Portenson,” Coon said. “I’ve seen him blow up a couple of times and it’s not a good experience. I think my skin actually blistered the last time.”