Linda Warren - Forgotten Son

A hum in the distance was a welcome relief. He pulled away. “A car is coming. Stay put and I’ll check it out. Don’t stand on your feet.”

He stood and walked to the edge of the road, recognizing the car immediately. It was Tuck. What the hell was he doing here? He had his own job to do. Then again, Eli was glad to see him.

Tuck pulled over and jumped out.

“Call the FBI and an ambulance,” Eli shouted.

Tuck dashed into his car and was back in a minute. He stopped short when he took in Eli’s appearance, especially his bloody arm. “What happened to you?”

“It’s a long story and I don’t have time to get into it.”

“You found Ms. Whitten?”

“Yes. She’s over here.” They walked toward the bushes.

“What are you doing here?”

“Surly as ever—still the same old Eli. For a moment there I wasn’t sure. But to answer your question, I offered my help. The lieutenant and captain agreed that the FBI could use all the help they could get.”

“What happened to one riot, one ranger?”

“Well, it took one ranger to get her out of there, and Congressman Whitten will want answers as to why the FBI didn’t find her days ago.”

That would certainly come up in the investigation that was to follow, but right now, Eli’s main concern was still Caroline.

They walked up to her. “Caroline, this is Jeremiah Tucker, and Tuck, this is Caroline Whitten.”

“Howdy, ma’am.” Tuck tipped his hat, staring at her bandaged hands.

A string of cars came roaring down the road, and Eli reached down and lifted Caroline into his arms.

“Put me down, Eli,” she ordered. “You can’t carry me with your arm like that.”

He didn’t oblige, but just kept walking.

“Eli,” Tuck called after them.

Eli didn’t pay any attention to him, either. He seemed to stroll effortlessly toward the road, but she knew he had to be in a lot of pain.

Tom and Bill ran up to them.

“We need an ambulance,” Eli said.

“It’s on the way,” Bill replied, his eyes on Caroline. “Are you okay, Ms. Whitten?”

“I am now.”

“Where did he have her hidden?” Tom asked.

“In the cellar.”

“We checked there.”

“One of the walls moves in slightly, just enough for a person to squeeze by, and it’s very hard to detect.”

An ambulance pulled up, followed by a black car. Paramedics jumped out with a gurney and rolled it up to Caroline. Eli gently laid his burden on it. Before the paramedics could take her away, she grabbed Eli’s left arm.

“No,” she cried. “Eli has to come, too. He’s hurt and he needs attention.”

“Caroline, just go and get taken care of. I have things to do.”

“No,” she said again, and held on tight even though her hand was hurting like hell.

Bill was looking at Eli’s blood-soaked sleeve. “That arm does look bad. We’re going in to make the arrest, and you’re not any help to us in that condition. Go to the hospital and take care of your arm. We’ll check in later and get a full report. Your job here is done.”

Eli gritted his teeth. He wanted to go back and arrest Buford himself, but knew that wasn’t going to be possible. “The dark-haired woman isn’t one of them, so go easy on her. She helped me find Caroline.”

“Okay,” Bill said. “We’ll make sure she gets special attention. I’m just hoping this goes peacefully. Did you notice any weapons?”

Eli shook his head. “No. I searched a lot of places and never saw any type of weapon, but they’re good at hiding things so be careful.”

“You take care of that arm,” Tom interjected. “Great job—now relax and let us handle the rest.”

Stephen Whitten got out of the black car, ran to his daughter and embraced her. Still Caroline did not let go of Eli’s arm.

“Oh, Caroline,” the congressman said, his voice cracking. “What have they done to you?” His gaze swept over her. “You need medical attention.”

“I’m fine, Dad,” she said. “And, yes, we’re on the way to the hospital.”

“We need to get going,” a paramedic said to no one in particular.

“Go to the hospital,” Tuck whispered, and Eli wanted to punch him like when they were kids. But he didn’t have any strength left and knew it was time to give in. It wasn’t easy.

“You can let go of my arm,” he said to Caroline. “I’m going.”

She complied and the paramedics pushed the gurney into the ambulance. Eli took a seat on the side. Stephen stood at the doors, talking on a cell phone.

“Where’s Colin, Dad?”

Stephen clicked off. “I’m not sure, Caroline. The press will be at the hospital. Don’t say a word to anyone about what happened. Your mother, Grace and I will meet you there.”

Why wasn’t he going in the ambulance with her? Eli wondered. And why in hell was he worried about the press? Caroline needed her family, but Congressman Whitten went back to his car and his bodyguards. Eli saw the hurt look on Caroline’s face and suspected it had less to do with the congressman than with the fiancé. Where was he?

In the ambulance, a paramedic was taking her vital signs and another was taking his. “I need to remove your shirt, sir,” the man said. “Or what’s left of it.”

Eli unbuttoned his shirt and removed it, trying not to flinch as he pulled the bloody fabric from his arm.

The man glanced at the wound. “What happened?”

“A dog, a Doberman to be exact, tried to keep me from going over a fence, and almost succeeded.”

“Then this was done by a dog?”

“Yep.”

The paramedic moved and Caroline saw Eli’s arm. “Oh, my God. Can’t you do something?” she cried to the paramedic.

“We’re almost at the hospital, where a doctor will take care of it. I’ll wrap it in the meantime.”

Eli hadn’t looked at his arm and he knew he had to. Big, fearless Elijah Coltrane was afraid. But fear never had much of a hold on him for long. He turned his head and forced himself to look down at where the dog’s teeth had sunk into him, pulling flesh and muscle from the bone. He wasn’t sure how he was still using his hand.

He’d never been sick a day in his life. The cold and flu bugs always got Tuck, but never him. Pa used to say Eli was tough—even germs were afraid to live in him. But what if his arm was permanently injured now? And it was his right arm….

No. His arm was fine. It would heal in no time.

The paramedic bandaged him and he shifted his thoughts elsewhere. The other technician was attending to Caroline.

“How are her feet and hands?” he asked.

“Scraped, bruised and cut. No deep lacerations, so they should heal without a problem.”

That’s what he wanted to hear. She would be fine.

“Eli,” she said in a soft voice. “Are you upset with me?”

He knew what she was talking about—her refusal to let go of his arm. “No, Caroline. I just wasn’t thinking too clearly. I’ve waited a long time to put handcuffs on Amos Buford. I didn’t want to miss that, but I’m in no condition to put handcuffs on anyone.”

“They’ll get him.”

“I just hope the arrest goes smoothly.”

There was silence for a moment and he heard a whimpering sound.

He frowned. “Are you crying?”

“No. Yes,” she sniffled. “And I don’t know why. I’m out of that place and I should be happy but…”

“It’s an emotional reaction,” he said, the sound twisting his gut. “You’ve been through a lot. Soon we’ll be at the hospital and you’ll see your fiancé, your family, and you’ll feel better.”

“I don’t think so,” she mumbled. “I feel as if I’m never going to be the same again. Somehow I’m different.”