Just a Memory (33 page)

Harry grunted more than he spoke his agreement to help. He stood and walked around to the other side of the bed from the one Carolyn was on. Kneeling opposite her, he lifted Mac with an arm under his shoulders, letting his head flop back and then forward as he rose.

"Careful!" she shouted.

Harry held Mac up while Carolyn pulled the shirt off his uninjured arm. Then he pulled it across Mac's back and handed it back to her across Mac's chest so she could pull it off the other arm. She saw blood on his back, but could not see any evidence the bullet had come out. At least there wasn't another wound to worry about bleeding. Or was it worse that the bullets had stayed in him? She didn't know.

"Hold him a minute longer while I wash the blood from his back."

That done, he held Mac's limp body a few moments more while she pulled the bedspread out from under him. There were no sheets. With painful abruptness, he dropped Mac back down to the bare mattress. Carolyn gasped.

"Not waking up, huh?" Harry asked, watching Mac for a sign of any reaction to his abuse.

"No, but with the pain you just caused, it's probably a good thing."

Carolyn threw the blood-soaked shirt into the far corner of the room beyond the bed. Harry went back to watching television. She discovered that under the dried blood she washed from his arm, there were two more holes where another bullet had gone in and out. One wound was smaller than the other and not so jagged. They weren't more than two inches apart. The area between and around them was swollen and purplish, but she was fairly certain the bullet had missed the bone.

As she washed his arm she felt some resistance from his muscles for the first time. Was he coming to? Her gaze flew to his face, and she could see his pain mirrored there.

Taking a clean strip of towel she had ripped apart, she wrapped it around the wounds on his arm and tied it. It made a bulky knot. She worried about the lint from the terry cloth getting into the wound, but it would be better covered. The pressure would help to keep it from bleeding again when his arm was moved. If only she could do the same for his shoulder.

"I should have bandages and antiseptic to clean the wounds better. The bullet in his shoulder has to come out. He has a fever. We must get him to a doctor right away," she insisted.

"You're kidding, right?"

Carolyn turned to argue with him but found the gun pointing at her. She turned back to Mac. Maybe later she could talk him into getting some antiseptic and something for the fever.

Mac's head began twisting from side to side. She stroked his forehead lightly while taking his good hand in her free one and holding it between her breasts. "You're going to be all right," she whispered to him. "But you must lie still."

When Mac lay quietly again, Carolyn went back to the kitchen. She washed the face cloths with some dish detergent she found there and turned back to caring for Mac. He seemed to be getting hotter, and yet he was shivering as if cold. She'd been trying to cool him, wiping his brow with a cool cloth, but now she worried he was getting chilled with no shirt on.

Carolyn turned back to Harry. "I need your help again. It's too cold in here for him to be without a shirt, so I want to put my smock on him. It's a man's shirt. It'll be small on him, but better than nothing."

She turned her back to Harry to remove the smock. Even though dressed in slacks and a blouse under it, she didn't want to give any suggestion of disrobing in front of him.

Harry got up and shuffled over to the far side of the bed again. As they succeeded in getting Mac into the shirt and under the cleanest section of the bedspread, he groaned with the pain.

"Hey, way to go!" Harry said triumphantly. "The sonofabitch is comin' to. Shouldn't be too long now 'til the boss gets here." Harry returned to his post on the other bed. "Damn snow."

Carolyn closed all but the top two buttons of the shirt on Mac, hoping the tight fabric would keep in place the piece of towel she'd folded over the wounded shoulder. She tucked the spread under his good arm and across his chest. It was very dusty, but it might help make him warmer.

With just enough room to sit on the edge of the bed beside him, she leaned against the headboard.
Oh God, help me. Pleased don't let Mac die
. She took Mac's hand and verbally tried to reassure him. There was no response from him now.

Carolyn inhaled deeply to maintain the self-control and confidence in herself she felt slipping away. She loved Mac so much and she felt his pain on top of her own. There was nothing she could do for him.

Or was there?

If she could escape and get help…

Chapter Twelve

From the moment Mac saw the third flash from the gun and the frigid blackness closed in around him, his body started to fight back.

Harry had left him where he fell in the snow while he shut off the house lights and quickly searched the empty rooms. He pocketed Mac's handcuffs and searched for their key, which he finally found in Mac's pocket and put into his own.

Now Mac was hearing voices. He even thought he heard Carolyn's voice, but that was impossible. The pain was so bad–his head–his shoulder. He couldn't move his arm. The whole side of his chest felt so heavy, so hot.

The darkness crept in again before he could open his eyes, but this time it was spotted with dark dots. Eyes. The eyes were laughing. He saw his partner Sam. His eyes were wide with surprise. Then there were dark eyes. Why were those so familiar?

Mac twisted to get away from them, but they followed him. There was no escape. The eyes were right in front of him and then the darkness blew up in a red-hot flame.

Those eyes. Those eyes were ones he had seen before. "Sam!" he tried to shout. But Sam didn't move. The dead couldn't move. Mac was too tired to think, too tired to open his eyes. Why wouldn't they leave him alone? It hurt so much to move. He felt so hot.

Caro's voice again? She couldn't be close enough for him to hear her voice. Those eyes would hurt her. Those eyes had shot Sam. They shot him so easily as he sat on the crates because Sam and Mac never thought they had to fear them.

Suddenly the pain in Mac's heart lifted and he remembered. He knew who had shot Sam. "Have to tell. Tell Hines. Have to tell Hines," Mac mumbled as he tossed his head and pushed at the confinement barring his consciousness.

"Mac, it's all right. Lie still. Don't move or your shoulder will start bleeding again. Please, Mac. Rest."

A cool hand smoothed back the hair from his forehead and stroked his hot cheeks with a cool cloth. Mac struggled to open his eyes. "Caro?" His voice was hoarse and not much above a whisper.

"Yes, Mac. You've been shot and you must lie still."

Harry came up behind her. "Well, well, well. I see Sleeping Beauty woke up. It's about time."

The instant Mac was aware of Harry, he struggled to focus his energy on moving. Harry was behind Caro and that could mean nothing but harm for her. He pulled his aching body up from the bed and tried to reach past her. "You–"

Mac cried out and clutched his arm just below his hurting shoulder, arching his body back against the bed in pain. He slumped against the mattress.

Carolyn moved the cloth back over the wound and pressed on it. "Mac, don't move. The bullet wound is starting to bleed again." She stood up to get another cloth to replace the bloody one, when Harry grabbed a handful of her hair and pressed her back down on the bed. She cried out in pain and shock.

"Where do you think you're goin' now?"

Tears stung her eyes. "To the kitchen. I have to get another cloth to stop the bleeding. He…he can't lose any more blood."

"You pull one funny trick and what you seen here is just the beginning of what is gonna happen to your boyfriend. Got that?"

"Yes," she managed.

He pushed her toward the end of the bed, using the handful of hair he still held tightly as a handle. Then he turned to Mac and threatened him with what he knew would keep him in line the best. "You stay put, cop. I'd have to rough the lady up some more if I thought you wuz gonna give me any trouble."

"You keep your filthy hands off her, Harry, or I swear I'll–"

Harry's loud laugh cut him off. "Big talk from a man who can't even sit up."

Mac closed his eyes and sank back on the pillow. Their paths had crossed before, and Mac knew Harry was not smart enough to be doing this on his own. Before he pieced together what was happening, Mac had to know how badly he was hurt. He knew his arm wouldn't function because of his aching shoulder wound. His head was pounding. He felt hot and weak. He wanted to go to sleep, but he knew he only had a chance if he stayed alert. So hot. He licked his lips. Hot and dry.

Did that mean he had a fever from the wounds already? How long had it been since he'd been shot? What the hell was Carolyn doing here? God, he would never rest if anything happened to her. It would all be his fault. He had to figure a way to get her out. Hell, how could he? He didn't know where he was. He didn't even recognize the shirt he had on.

Carolyn returned and wiped up the smeared blood and then pressed the new nearly dry cloth squarely on the wound. "I know this hurts, but I have to press it just until it stops bleeding. Just don't move again, all right?"

"I don't think I can," Mac told her weakly, trying to smile to soften the concern he saw in her face.

With her free hand, she took a clean wet cloth and wiped his forehead and cheeks. "You're running a fever. Does this feel better?"

"Yeah." Mac glanced over at Harry and saw he was engrossed in a movie. "Where are we? How long have I been here?" He captured her hand with the damp cloth in his uninjured one. "What are you doing here? Has he hurt you? Has he–" He swallowed hard and couldn't ask the rest of the question he started.

"Please, Mac. Every time you move you make the wounds bleed more. I'll tell you everything you want to know, but just lie still."

"Water. Can I have some water?" Mac saw the worry etched in the frown on Carolyn's face. If he was going to be of any use in getting her out of here, he had to maintain what strength he had left.

"That I can do," she said, managing a smile. "Here. Can you hold this?"

She lifted Mac's good arm and pressed his hand on the toweling bandage over his shoulder. After explaining the nature of her errand to Harry, she got a glass of water and returned. Lifting Mac's head, she held the glass up to his lips, letting a few drops fall into his mouth. He strained to lift his head to drink more.

"A little at a time, Mac. We'd better be sure your stomach is ready for this." She helped him patiently until he swallowed. She lowered his head to the pillow and kissed his forehead.

Then positioning herself between Mac and Harry, she sat against the headboard with her legs up on the bed. She returned to wiping Mac's face and neck with the cool cloth. She told him all that had transpired since Harry had brought her here. "He won't let me take you to a doctor," she complained.

Mac ran his tongue over his parched lips. "God, my mouth feels like cotton."

She helped him drink another swallow. He watched her and marveled how well she was holding up under the strain. Next he asked questions specifically about his bullet wounds.

"I'm no doctor, Mac. I don't know what to say."

"I need to know everything that's wrong with me."

"You're computing the information like a machine. How can you be the victim of such violence and remain in control?"