“Yes. His speech is impacted by the mutilation, but he is not unintelligent.”
Alace broke in. “The file said he was cognitively delayed.”
“Does not mean he is stupid.” Taking a seat on the treatment table, Owen wrestled with his growing anger, knowing the emotion was without a target. Kuellen is already dead. That’s a goddamned fact. Audibly, he whispered, “Rodney. Time to wake up, buddy. My friend is here. The doctor, I told you about him.” Owen adjusted the boy across his lap, setting him up straighter. “Rodney? Time to wake up. You slept the whole way. What a good boy. I’ve got you, remember? You’re safe.”
Confused brown eyes blinked up at him, taking a couple of deep, even breaths before Owen saw recognition set in.
“There you are. Did you have a good sleep?”
The boy’s mouth opened, jaw waggling side to side as his tongue worked at the back of his mouth. Almost as if it too were waking.
“Yes.” His slur was pronounced, the single word emerging as yaff. “Are…” His lips lifted and spread, as if he were stretching them in an effort to better pronounce the words. “Are.” More movement, like a physical and vocal tic. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay, Rodney.” He was touched by the boy’s remembered fear that Kuellen would somehow rise from the dead and hurt Owen. “This is my friend, Doc. Will you let us help you?”
Rodney’s head swung so he could look Doc’s direction, his mouth closing with a wet snap.
“Hey, Rodney.” Doc waved, hand low to the ground, as far from threatening as he could get. “How are you feeling?”
The two of them went on with their greeting, Owen gradually easing Rodney off his lap and onto the table. He stood, stretching, and activated the throat mic.
“Alace?”
“Yes?” Her response was immediate. Either she was closely listening to both communication channels as she’d promised, or August was in a quiet period so she could focus on Owen and Doc.
“Thank you for coming to my rescue tonight. We make good partners.”
“Thank your other partner. He’s the one who made the call.” Owen glanced down to see Doc’s gaze trained on him. “Also, what the actual fuck, Owen? You didn’t have an entry strategy, much less a planned exit.”
“He had video of Shiloh. I could not fail her. I was not there when it happened, and that has been killing me.” Time to open the door to his past a little, something Alace had no idea about. “I had a daughter, Emma. She was taken, like Rodney. They kept her alive for months. I was deployed, deep enough there were no messages in or out. I came back to find her dead and buried, the bastards who did it in the wind. My bosses did not give a shit. It was a turn and burn home leave, no exceptions made.”
Alace’s sigh held empathetic pain. “They redeployed you before you had a chance to come to grips with what happened.” It could have been a statement, but he answered as if it were a question.
“Yes. Sent me down to Central America, where I proceeded to lose my mind.”
“That’s the reason you went rogue on ’em. Your daughter, Emma, she’s not part of any official history for you.” He wished he could see Alace’s face, know if she were angry he’d never shared, hadn’t trusted her with this personal part of himself. If wishes were horses. The tone was plaintive when she asked, “Why, Owen?”
“Her mom put unknown on the birth certificate. I did not love the girl, and that lack was a two-way street. I loved my Emma, though. So, so much, Alace. From the moment I saw her, six months old and laughing, I loved her.”
“Did you find the guys who took and killed her?”
“Some, yes. But not all of them, no. I do not think so.”
“Sounds like we’ve got a joint mission. Let’s plan on talking this through after you and I debrief August. Can he stay with you tonight? Guest room or couch, he said he’s not particular.”
“Sure. Put him in channel when he is ready to head this way.”
As he and Alace had talked, Doc had made Rodney more comfortable with a clean blanket and bottle of water.
“My friend and I will be just a moment, Rodney. Can you stay here, please?” Rodney was again showing signs of exhaustion, his head wobbling as he nodded slowly, lifting the bottle of water to study the label. “It’s only water, promise. See how it’s sealed?” Doc pointed to the lid. “I haven’t opened it. It’s safe, Rodney.” He stood and motioned to Owen. “We’ll be right down the hall if you need us.”
In the kitchen, Doc leaned against the cabinet, his shoulders slumping as if he shared Rodney’s exhaustion. A glance at the clock on the microwave said he probably did, and had guilt stealing over Owen.
“He’s malnourished but is otherwise surprisingly healthy. Alace said he’d been kept in an enclosed small space, so little to no exercise, which, if he was regularly going without food, is probably a good thing. The amputations to his small toes and finger healed cleanly, and he remembers bandaging. They appear to have been cauterized, so I’m glad he doesn’t remember that part of the procedure. The tongue is more problematic. The split extends back into the root and severed the bundle of muscles underneath the tongue, but because the amputation was about half an inch forward of that, he has better speech than I’d expect. The continued irritation and subsequent bleeding is because the split was not stitched, and so hasn’t healed completely. He doesn’t know how old he was, but it was before Aldo, whatever that means.”
“Aldo Kuellen, the guy we dealt with tonight.”
“Did you know he had a prisoner when you went down there?” Doc scrubbed across his forehead with one hand, fingers repeatedly shoving through his hair. “No, don’t answer that. I’m sure you didn’t because you didn’t take the time to do your homework.”
“Doc’s not wrong,” Alace said in his ear, and Owen tipped his head back, gritting his teeth together. “Not part of this conversation, though. Doc, is he okay to transport? I hope he is. I’ve got someone on the way. ETA less than five minutes. Can you prep him to move?”
“Yes, and yes.” Doc leveled a finger at Owen. “I know you can see me, Alace. We’re not done with this topic. You and I have to work together on this one.”
“I hear you loud and clear.” Owen wished he could see Alace. “The lady’s name is Astrid, and she’s driving a gray sedan. She’ll take Rodney to the children’s hospital in Aurora.” Owen waited, knowing the pause meant Alace was about to disclose something either he or Doc wouldn’t like. Learnin’ the boss lady’s tells. Go me. “Doc, he needs to be asleep.”
“He is.” Doc stated it so baldly, Owen nearly missed the significance of the phrase.
“He is? How do you know? We’re in here.”
“The water was drugged. Little technique I learned in Thailand. Run the cap under hot water for thirty seconds, and it pulls straight off, but without breaking the seal ring. Insert the drugs and heat the cap again to get it back on.” Doc shrugged. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”
Ten minutes later, they watched through the open garage door as the woman backed out of the driveway. It had been fortuitous Owen’s car was parked on the curb after all.