Matt (23 page)

L
uke was just greeting Reed, Colin, and Burke, when they looked up at the sound of a plane's engines. Seeing the Cessna in the distance, Luke dialed his grandfather's number and put the call on speaker as the others gathered around to listen.

Grace answered. “Yes, Luke? Any news?”

“Matt thought he saw a flash of light, so we've come here to back him up, in case he's found the kidnappers. We're all here now, at the mouth of the Glacier.”

“We're almost right above you. In fact, we can see your vehicles.” She glanced at her husband before adding, “Captain McBride reported that Nessa's phone was engaged for a minute before going dark. Could that be what Matt saw?”

“We'll find out soon enough. We figure Matt's somewhere ahead of us, though to be honest, I haven't heard or seen any sign of life.”

His grandfather's voice came on the phone. “I'm going to give your news to Sheriff Graystoke. He can send in backup while alerting the Chicago authorities.”

“The sheriff knows. We talked to him earlier.”

“Good.” The old man's voice was rough with impatience. “I'm going to land wherever I can find a clear spot. Keep us in the loop, son.”

“Will do, Grandpop.”

The group looked grim as Luke replaced his cell phone.

“It's too quiet,” Burke muttered.

“I'm thinking the same thing.” Colin motioned to the others. “Let's keep to the trees as much as—”

The report of rifle fire had them stopping dead in their tracks before they started out at a run.

Matt watched as the scene before him unfolded.

For the space of several seconds Jasper stood perfectly still as the bullet ripped through his chest. Then, as if in slow motion, blood spurted from the wound, and he staggered before falling face-first in the dirt.

Even before he dropped, Matt was moving forward, taking aim at the big man towering over Vanessa.

He blinked several times. When his vision cleared, he realized that the thug was holding a gun aimed directly at him.

“No.” With a shout, Vanessa kicked out with her foot, knocking the gunman off stride, and the shot went wide, spewing dirt several feet from Matt.

Before Homer could take aim for a second attempt, Vanessa grabbed up the rope that had been tied around her neck and whipped it at his eyes.

He cried out, half blind with pain as he reached out a hand to stop her.

Matt took that moment of distraction to charge the thug, taking him down and throwing several punches that had his already-broken nose streaming a fountain of blood.

The gun dropped from Homer's hand. Before he could snatch it back, Vanessa kicked it and sent it flying out of his reach.

Enraged, the thug pummeled Matt with several vicious blows that had his ears ringing and his vision blurring.

Unable to see, Matt struggled to protect himself while returning punches.

Once Homer realized that he had the upper hand, he moved in for the kill, pounding Matt's head against the ground, fists sending blow after blow to Matt's face and chest.

Vanessa could see the fight turning as Matt's strength began to drain away completely. She couldn't imagine how he was still moving. His wounds were too severe, his body too drained to continue. Yet she watched him fight on valiantly, presumably going on nothing but pure courage.

She picked up the gun and wondered what good it would do her. She'd never fired one and was terrified that she would hit Matt instead of the thug.

Desperate, she fired into the air, and at the sound of it Homer brought his head up sharply. As he knelt over Matt, he saw the way Vanessa's hand was shaking.

“Firing a gun is the easy part, Daddy's Little Girl. Firing it at someone you intend to kill is something altogether different. Especially if you hit the wrong target.” His evil smile spread across his lips and turned into a leer. “Now you give me that gun, and I'll show you how it's done.”

When she merely stared at him, face pale, lips quivering, Homer laughed. “I get it. You thought I'd just put up my hands and surrender, didn't you? But you don't have the guts to actually shoot.”

As he lifted a fist to Matt's face, Luke's voice broke the stillness. “Ask us if
we
have the guts to shoot.”

Homer turned to see the entire Malloy family, even Frank and Grace, who had landed their plane nearby, forming a ring around the area, and all of them holding weapons aimed directly at him.

He had no sooner raised his hands when Luke grabbed him by the front of his parka and hauled him to his feet. Then, before anybody could stop him, Luke drove a fist into the gunman's middle and dropped him to his knees, where he wheezed out a breath.

Luke was about to throw another punch when the sheriff's voice sounded from nearby.

“I'll take that piece of garbage…” He glanced at Vanessa before adding, “I'll handle the prisoner from here, Luke.”

Several police officers stepped forward to handcuff the prisoner and lead him away. And then the scene became one of complete chaos.

A team of state police sharpshooters, weapons still in place, surrounded the area. Another group of officials moved about. One checked Jasper's vitals and declared him dead, another bagged evidence, while others roped off areas of the ground darkened with blood to collect samples.

Vanessa raced to Matt's side and dropped to her knees. Feeling for a pulse she shouted, “He's alive.”

Her tears, held back for so long, now began streaming down her face, as she gave vent to all the raw emotions churning inside. Her composure, so tightly controlled, now slipped away completely. “He needs help. Now. Please. Somebody help him. You can't let him die.”

With the Malloy family standing anxiously by, a team of medics hurried over. When they attempted to move Vanessa, she clung to Matt's arm, her tears falling harder and faster.

“Please don't die, Matt. Please stay. You fought so bravely. You endured so much. Please…”

“You need medical attention, Miss.” A stocky medic wrapped his arms around her waist, and, with the help of a second man, attempted to place her on a gurney.

“No!” She fought off both of them and raced back to kneel beside Matt. “He's the one who needs help. Please. You can't let him…”

Her tears fell harder and faster as she saw just how badly wounded he was.

Frank dropped to his knees beside Vanessa. “Hush now, Nessa girl. Everyone's doing the best they can.”

The stocky medic hovered nearby, while the other took Matt's vitals and hooked up an intravenous tube to administer something for pain.

Grace looked at the man, who shook his head gravely. “I have orders from Chicago authorities to get Miss Kettering to the nearest hospital as soon as possible.”

“All we have in Glacier Ridge is a clinic,” Frank explained.

“Then we'll head there first.” The medic reached for Vanessa's hand, but she shrank back.

“I won't go without Matt.”

“He'll be on the next copter, ma'am. I promise you.”

“But what if he…?” She couldn't speak about her greatest fear. That he might not survive his terrible injuries. The words, once spoken, would be too final. “Please let me stay.”

“They can't do that, Nessa.” Frank studied the somber faces of the two medics. “They have their orders.”

Vanessa watched as a member of the medical team assessed her wounds. When she saw the way he shook his head, she dug in her heels. “I'm not going without Matt.” She turned, searching until she saw Grace kneeling nearby, fighting tears.

“Grace.” She stretched out her bloody hands and the old woman hurried over to embrace her. “Make somebody understand that I'm not leaving Matt. If not for him, I wouldn't be here. He sacrificed so much for me.”

“I know.” Grace stroked her hair.

“He's my hero. Please tell them…” Nessa's voice broke. “Please, Grace, tell them I need to stay with Matt. Oh, I love him so.”

The old woman sent a warning look to the medics, who nodded their agreement. “You'll fly to the clinic with Matthew. It's what you need. What you both need.”

“Thank you. Oh, thank you.”

Grace pressed a kiss to her tear-streaked cheek as the team lifted the gurney bearing Matt's unconscious form. “Go with them. And hold on to the thought that it's all in heaven's hands now.”

Minutes later the Malloy family watched solemnly as a medical helicopter lifted into the air with a flurry of blades that flattened the grass and had the trees bending in a furious dance.

While several police units remained to photograph the crime scene and scour the area for evidence, a convoy of planes and vehicles began making its way from the Montana wilderness, all of them bound for the distant town of Glacier Ridge.

The scene at the tiny clinic in town was even more chaotic than the crime scene. A team of medics kept getting in the way of the lone, aged doctor, Leonard Cross, who had single-handedly run the Glacier Clinic for more than fifty years. Dr. Cross delivered babies, set broken bones, treated infections, and helped his patients through terminal diseases, and all with the same optimistic good cheer. But today, that cheer was being sorely tested.

He'd just brought his niece, Anita, here from Boston's finest hospital, in the hope of persuading her to join his clinic. For the past few years he'd been thinking of a way of cutting back to take some time for himself without leaving the citizens of Glacier Ridge without a doctor.

Since Anita had arrived several days earlier, her uncle had been extolling the virtues of small-town medicine, boasting that she would find plenty of time to pursue her dream of practicing family medicine while also writing novels set in the Old West.

As he dashed from one examining room to the next, he muttered to her, “Sorry. This wasn't exactly what I had in mind for your first days on the job. This isn't the good impression I was hoping for.”

She shot him a sweet smile. “Uncle Leonard, no matter what life throws at me here, it can't possibly compare to my hectic hospital days in the trauma unit in Boston.”

“That's good to hear.” He led the way into the room where the entire Malloy family had gathered around the examining table.

Seeing them he skidded to a halt. “Is this Matthew?” The old doctor couldn't tell with all the blood and dirt that masked the patient's face.

Colin assigned himself speaker for the family. “My nephew Matt's been shot, Doc.”

“I can see that.” Dr. Cross watched as his assistant, Agnes, cut away Matt's bloody parka and shirt to expose his chest.

“And he survived a fiery truck crash.” Colin stared at his nephew lying so still on the table, and forced himself to swallow.

Anita Cross, noting his pallor, put a hand on his arm. “Sir, if you faint at the sight of blood, you may want to leave the room.”

He shook off her hand before giving her a look of pure outrage. “I've never fainted in my life.”

“There's always a first time.”

His eyes narrowed on her. “Look Miss…”

“Doctor. I'm Dr. Anita Cross.”

“My niece,” the old doctor said as he began to probe Matt's chest.

“Dr. Cross, I'm not leaving this room until I know my nephew will live.”

Colin's harsh tone would have been enough to frighten most people, but seeing the fierce look in his eyes had Dr. Anita Cross nodding. “I understand completely. If you could step back a pace, we'll share everything we can with you.” She turned to include the others. “With all of you. But this could be difficult, even painful, to watch. It might be better if you wait in the lobby.”

In answer, they crossed their arms over their chests and planted their feet.

It was answer enough for her.

When the young doctor turned to her uncle, she saw him vainly attempting to remove a young woman who was clinging to Matt as though to a lifeline.

Her voice lowered to a command. “Young lady, you have to give us room to do our job.”

As Vanessa looked up, her movements were slow and measured, as though she'd turned into a robot. Her face had gone ghostly white, and her hands were trembling.

Dr. Anita Cross took a firm hold of Vanessa's arm. “This woman is in shock and needs a bed immediately.”

Before she could press an emergency button, Colin stepped up and swept Vanessa into his arms. “Where do you want her, Doc?”

The doctor turned to Agnes. “Show them to examining room two, and I'll be there as soon as possible.”

As Vanessa was carried from the room, the others went deathly silent as the two doctors bent to examine Matt.

Dr. Anita spoke in low tones to her uncle. “Looks like he's been through a war. How is his heart?”

“Strong. But then, I'm not surprised. Some men might be taken down by a bullet, or a fiery crash.” Dr. Leonard Cross muttered, “Though he's been through both, I'm thinking it will take more than that to do in a Malloy.”

He stepped away and turned to the family, while his niece left the room to examine her next patient.

“I know you want to stay close. But I have to take Matt into surgery right now. We'll get that bullet out, set any broken bones we find, and deal with his burns and other wounds. Since it'll take the better part of the day, I suggest you return to the ranch, and I'll phone you when surgery is over.”

Frank said, “We're not leaving, Doc.” He turned to the others. “While you go to the waiting room, Gracie and I will head on over to the other room and check on Vanessa. She'll want to know that Matthew is going into surgery.”

The family made their way from Matt's room, and Frank and Grace walked down the hall.

Posted outside the door to Vanessa's room stood two uniformed officers from the Chicago PD.