“If they find Suggs, I’ll have them turn him over to you, okay? I have Shelby back. All I care about right now is making sure she’s okay.” I choke on the last word, and this time I’m not faking. “I gotta get back inside. I still need to call her mother.”
“First, tell me something.” He holds up his hand in a stop gesture. “How’d you know where to find her?”
“We searched the house. Saw the hidey-hole he had in the closet, so I just started moving furniture to see what other hidden spaces he might have.”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”
I shrug and back into the elevator, jabbing the ‘close’ button before Agent Jackson decides to join me. “Had a hunch and it paid off.”
The door shuts as he’s opening his mouth to respond.
Later, Jackson.
Upstairs, I find Greg in the waiting room, fretting and staring at his cell phone. “It’s out. The story’s out. Shit! This isn’t good, Logan.”
As if I give a single flying fuck about his PR problems. “Did anyone call her mom yet?”
He shakes his head miserably. “I didn’t know what to say to her.”
Yeah, neither do I. “It’s all right. I’ll call her now.”
“Thank you. Someone needs to let her know before she reads it online. It’s going to be everywhere in a couple hours.” He’s obviously too much of a coward to be that someone.
“Are they reporting where she is now?” People trying to get information or sneak a photo is the last damn thing we need.
“I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway. But the story about her being kidnapped from the arena is big news.”
“Shit.” I yank out my phone and search for a quiet place to make my phone calls and arrange some travel. The sun’s barely peeking above the horizon. Exhaustion settles over me but I push it away. I locate an empty room and make some arrangements before settling in to call Lynn.
“Rooster?” she answers with a yawn. “You know I work the late shift. Why the hell are you callin’ me at this hour?”
Can’t say I feel good about fucking up her morning. But better she hear it from me than someone else.
“Lynn.” I grit my teeth and decide to get straight to the point. “Shelby’s in the hospital.”
“What?” she shrieks so loud I pull the phone away from my ear. “What happened?”
Shit, how the fuck do I explain the kidnapping over the phone?
“She’s had this obsessed fan following her.” Bare details. Just give her the few pertinent facts. “He got to her last night. Gave her something that knocked her out. We don’t know what yet. The doctors are working on her now.”
“Can I talk to her? What do you mean an obsessed fan? Who?”
“She’s unconscious.” I swallow hard. This has to be the worst phone call I’ve ever made. “I’m waiting for an update from the doctors.”
“Rooster.” She sobs and I feel like fucking shit for doing this to her over the phone. “Is my baby going to be okay?”
“Shelby’s a fighter.” I choke on the last word. “You know that.”
“I…I need to be there…I—”
“I know.” Finally, I can be useful. “You got a pen nearby? I have you booked on a flight this afternoon. It was the first one I could get you on. You’re going to need to give them your I.D. and check in as early as possible. I’ll have someone at the airport here to pick you up when you land and drive you to the hospital.”
She’s silent for a few seconds. It’s hard to tell if she’s writing something down or absorbing the information. “You have me booked…what?”
“Can you get ready and leave soon?”
“Y-yes,” she stammers.
“All right. When we hang up, I’m going to arrange a car service to take you to the airport. I’ll text you the information.” I read her the flight info. “Call me if they give you any trouble.”
Another long pause. “Thank you.”
“No problem. I’ll see you soon.”
I hang up and make the arrangements for the car service. As I finish texting Lynn the details, a shadow passes the doorway then returns.
I glance up and Jigsaw smirks at me. “Want me to pick up Mom?”
“If you promise not to be a creep to her.”
He shakes his head, all humor melting out of his expression. “I don’t have it in me today, brother.”
“Thanks. Any word from the doctors yet?”
“Nothing. Greg was gettin’ on my nerves and that FBI jackoff keeps eyeballin’ me in a way I don’t particularly care for.”
I drop my gaze to his bloodstained knuckles. “Might want to wash your hands.” No doubt that’s the blood of Martin Suggs, and the last thing we need is Jackson getting ideas to examine Jiggy or something.
He huffs a laugh. “Good point.”
I copy Lynn’s flight information and hand it to him. Next on my list is a phone call to Z.
“You all right, brother?” he answers right away.
“Yeah. At the hospital, waiting for news about Shelby now.” I share a brief outline of what happened, leaving out the extra-incriminating details.
“Give me the address of the hospital. I’ll send it to Dex. Last time they checked in with me, they weren’t far from you guys.”
I have to find the nurse’s station to locate something with an address and recite it to Z.
“Got it,” he says.
We talk for a few more minutes, but there’s not a lot I can say with so many people around. I think Z understands that.
Finally, we hang up and I return to where Greg and Trent are waiting. “Any news?”
“They’re running tests. Trying to eliminate different things,” Greg answers. He cocks his head and stares up at me. “How did you find her?”
I take the chair next to him, leaning back and stretching my legs out, resting one ankle over the other. “You really don’t want to know.”
I close my eyes and immediately drift into an uncomfortable sleep state. Aware of the sounds and activity around me but since none of it has to do with Shelby, I’m unable to open my eyes or give a shit.
At some point, I pick up Agent Jackson’s voice, speaking in low tones to Greg.
I crack open one eye and listen to Greg whine about the bad publicity for a few seconds before Jackson realizes I’m awake.
“We need to speak.” He jerks his head toward the hallway.
“Do we?” I ask in a lazy tone, adding in a yawn.
He scowls and glares at me. I follow him into the hallway, and together we trudge over to a window overlooking the parking lot.
“Did Shelby say anything when you found her?” he asks.
“No.” My fists clench and my throat tightens. “She was unconscious. We almost didn’t find her.” I haven’t stopped thinking about what would’ve happened if we hadn’t looked under the bed. If I’d believed Martin’s story about her not being at the cabin.
“I got a look at the cage under the bed. Fucking sick.”
Unable to form any words, I nod.