Forgotten Son

“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.”

“Give it time.” But he felt the same way. For years he’d held on to Ginny’s love, her memory. That was enough.

Until now. Now…

He closed his eyes, forcing the feeling away, striving, struggling to see Ginny’s face. No matter how hard he tried it wasn’t there. Caroline’s was. That frightened him more than the damage to his arm. Caroline was seeping into his system and he didn’t like that. He didn’t want it. He barely knew her, but he was powerless to change whatever was happening.

He didn’t like that, either.

CHAPTER FOUR

WHEN THEY REACHED the hospital, things happened fast. Reporters and TV crews were everywhere, with the police trying to push them back. Attendants whisked Caroline away, and above the noise Eli heard her call out to him.

He didn’t respond. She needed her family now—not him. Stepping out of the ambulance, he saw an orderly with a wheelchair. His first response was to object. Then he glanced at all the people clamoring to get a statement from him. He sank into the chair without protest, wanting to get away from the crowd as quickly as possible. Reporters were shouting questions at him and flashbulbs were going off, but he ignored them.

The orderly quickly took him to a bed in the emergency room. Eli stood and lay down there, feeling totally spent.

“The doctor will be in here shortly,” the attendant said.

“Thanks,” Eli replied, and stared up at the fluorescent ceiling lights. Had the arrest been made? He hoped this wouldn’t take long because he had to get out of here and give the FBI a full report. They had to know everything he’d learned as soon as possible. Where in the hell was the doctor?

A doctor who barely looked old enough to be playing in Little League came into the room. Eli knew he had to be much older, or at least hoped he was.

“I’m Dr. Fisher, Mr. Coltrane. I’m going to look at your arm.”

“Sure. Stitch it up or whatever you have to do because I have to go. I have an investigation to finish.”

“Yes. I heard,” the doctor said, unwrapping his arm.

“It’s been in the news all week and the hospital is inundated with reporters. Everyone is very relieved Ms. Whitten was found alive.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” Eli watched as he examined his arm.

“How long is this going to take?”

The doctor made a grunting sound. “I’m not sure. I have to get a surgeon down here.”

“A surgeon! What the hell for?”

“Your arm needs special attention, Mr. Coltrane.”

“That’s why I’m here. Stitch the damn thing up so I can go.”

“It’s not just the skin that’s been damaged—muscles and nerves have been ripped apart and it will take a specialist to put it back together.”

That still didn’t deter Eli. “It can’t be that bad. See? I can move my hand.” He raised his arm—it was beginning to feel heavy—and moved his fingers.

“Look closely at your fingers,” the young doctor said patiently. “They’re starting to swell and so is your arm. With this type of injury, surgery needs to be done as soon as possible so you can maintain full mobility.”

“Are you saying if I don’t have the surgery, I’ll lose the function of my right hand?”

“Yes. That’s what I’m saying.”

There was silence as Eli battled with what he had to do and what he wanted to do.

“Surely you’re not thinking about not having the surgery?” The doctor was clearly shocked.

“How long will the operation take?” he asked instead of answering.

“The surgeon will be able to tell you that.”

“Well, get him in here. I don’t have a lot of time.”

Dr. Fisher gave a long sigh. “Mr. Coltrane, you’re not going anywhere for a while. It would be best for you if you started thinking in those terms.”

“And it would be best for you if you got the damn surgeon in here.”

The doctor was scribbling in a chart and he didn’t look up. “I’m attributing your bad attitude to the pain you’re in. I’ll have the nurse give you something.”

Eli took a deep breath. “I don’t want a damn thing for the pain. I just want to get this over with.”

“Yes. I think we’ve established that.” He closed the chart. “The surgeon will be in soon, Mr. Coltrane, so please try to relax.”

Dr. Fisher walked out and Eli knew he was being an ass, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d never been badly injured before and he wasn’t handling it well. Closing his eyes, he tried to relax as the doctor had suggested. This would be over in no time and he could finish the job he’d started. They had to have arrested Buford by now, and he wished someone would come and tell him how it went. He had to know Buford was in jail.

“Mr. Coltrane.”

Eli opened his eyes to see an older, bald-headed man reading his chart. “I’m Dr. Jim Stiles. I hear you’ve had an encounter with a mean dog.”

“Yes. You could say that.”

“Let me take a look.” He laid the chart down and moved to the right side of the bed, where he picked up Eli’s arm and examined it. “Mmm. Mmm. Mmm. A lot of damage has been done. We need to get you to surgery now before the swelling gets any worse. Has your wife been called?”

“I’m not married.”

“Family?”

“My brother’s working the same case that I was and he’ll be here as soon as he can.”

“We have papers that need to be signed. Do you think you can sign them with your left hand?”

“I can sign them with my right,” Eli said.

The doctor stared directly at him. “Ranger Coltrane, I hear you’ve been giving the intern a hard time. But you and I are of the same caliber—tough, determined men—and if you want me to save that arm then you’ll have to cooperate. That’s the bottom line for me—cooperation. My time is too valuable to waste on a man who is too stubborn to realize he needs help.”

Eli didn’t waver under that intense gaze. “Dr. Stiles, I’ve always been a survivor and a fighter, and I learned discipline, respect and honor from a man I worshiped. He taught me how to take a punch like a man, how to give in without giving up, but he never taught me how to handle anything like this. So you’ll pardon me if I’m not on my best behavior.”

Dr. Stiles picked up the chart. “It’s all over the news that the Whitten woman was found alive by a Texas Ranger. Something the FBI hadn’t been able to do.”

“I was working with the FBI.”

“Don’t know how to take praise, either, do you?” The doctor scribbled something in the chart.

“Guess not.”

“Let’s go fix that arm so you can pin on that medal they’re going to give you.”

“Just do it as fast as you can.”

“I’ll do the best job I can in the amount of time it takes,” Dr. Stiles retorted.

“You don’t cooperate very well, do you, Doc?”

The doctor smiled. “I said I demand cooperation. I didn’t say I gave it. I’ll see you in surgery.”

After that Eli relaxed. He didn’t have much of a choice. They removed the rest of his clothes and gave him a hospital gown to wear. A nurse started an IV and he signed papers with his left hand, and another doctor came in to explain what was going to be done to his arm. Soon he was rolled to the operating room, where the anesthesiologist explained how he was going to put Eli to sleep.

Eli stared up at the bright lights, realizing he’d never felt so alone in his life. He had no family, what with Ma and Pa gone. It was just him and Tuck.

A man should have a family. He shouldn’t be alone. Where had that thought come from? He’d always been a loner. Maybe it was the drugs starting to flow through his system. Maybe it was his age. Maybe life had just caught up with him.

It would be nice to have someone here, though—someone to wake up to. Caroline’s face swam before him and he squeezed his eyes tight. No. He didn’t want to see her. Then he pictured Jake McCain. No. He didn’t want to see him, either. But Jake was his brother, his half brother. He was family. He was blood. No. Eli wasn’t a McCain. Joe McCain had denied his existence, and Eli would never admit that the man’s blood ran in his veins.

Never.

That thought lasted a second, then everything went black.

CAROLINE LAY QUIETLY as the doctors and nurses attended to her wounds. She wondered where her family was. Where was Colin? She felt so alone in this roomful of strangers. They quickly took her to a private room, and Caroline kept looking for her mother, father, Grace and Colin, but all she saw were people she didn’t know.

She had an IV in her arm because the doctor said she was dehydrated. They’d given her something for pain and she was beginning to feel woozy and disoriented. But she had to stay awake and find out how Eli was.

Her hands and feet were bandaged, and a nurse removed her clothes and helped her put on a hospital gown. After making sure she was comfortable, the woman left the room.

Caroline licked her dry lips as tears gathered in her eyes. She felt alone and abandoned and she wanted to touch Eli—to feel his strength. She didn’t even know him, yet she felt a connection she couldn’t explain.

Her eyes grew droopy and she forced them open. She wouldn’t close them. She never wanted to see darkness again—not ever. “Amazing grace” hovered at the back of her mind and she wanted to give in and sing to block everything out.

She heard voices in the hall and that weakness dissipated. Grace was here. She’d know her sister’s voice anywhere. The door burst opened and Grace ran in and grabbed her.

“Caro, Caro,” she cried, holding her tight. “Thank God you’re okay. Thank God you’re alive.”

“Yes. I’m very lucky.”

Grace drew back and brushed away a tear. The sisters looked very much alike, with the same blond hair and green eyes and body shape, except Grace wore her hair pulled back while Caroline’s was usually loose. Their personalities were so different, though, that people often said they didn’t resemble each other.

Caroline was soft and giving, but had an inner strength. Grace was studious, career driven and very much like their father, whom she spent most of her life trying to please. Caroline was just the opposite—needing to be on her own, needing to be her own person.

“My,” Grace said, “look at you. You have scratches on your face and arms, and the doctor said your hands and feet have bad lacerations.”

“They’ll heal.”

Grace frowned. “Couldn’t that Texas Ranger who found you have done more to keep you from getting hurt?”

“I’m alive,” Caroline stressed. “I’m alive. If not for him, I’d be dead.”

Grace shivered and ran her hands up her arms. “Don’t say that. We’ve been so worried and I—”

“Where’s Mom and Dad?” Caroline asked, before they both started bawling like babies.

“You know them. Dad’s giving a news conference and Mom is right beside him, as always. It makes good politics—gets the sympathy of the voters, and that’s top priority—the voter.”

Caroline heard the bitterness in her voice. “Do you think we’ll ever get past the resentment of not having normal parents?”

“Probably not.” Grace sat on the bed beside her. “But, you’re thirty and I’m twenty-nine so we should probably try.”

“Yeah,” Caroline answered quietly.

Grace rubbed Caroline’s arm. “Are you okay?”

She smiled at her sister. “Yes. I’m a little shaken still, but I’ll be fine.” She glanced at the door. “Where’s Colin? I thought he’d be here waiting for me. I’m anxious to see him.”

Grace looked away.

“Grace, where’s Colin?”

“He should be here soon.”

Grace was trying not to tell her something.

“Why isn’t he here now?”

“You know he had that new store opening in Houston.”

“Yes.”

“The opening was today.”

“And he went!” Caroline knew the answer before Grace spoke.

“Yes. We’d been waiting for days, and like I said, we were so worried. I think he just needed to do something. The wait was getting to all of us. Mom called him and he’s on his way back.”

“Oh. I guess that makes it all right then.” She couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice.

“Caro, please don’t—”

“I’m so tired.” Caroline cut her off. “I want to go to sleep, but I’m afraid to close my eyes. They kept me in a cellar with nothing but bread and water. There was no light.” She had to take a deep breath as the suffocating memory filled her. “I think I went insane for a while. I sang hymns and I want to start singing again. That way I can stay awake. I feel as if I’m losing it. I can’t…”

“Shh,” Grace murmured, stretching out beside her. “Remember when we were kids and I was afraid of the dark and I’d sneak past the nanny to sleep with you?”

“Yes.”

“Now I will protect you from the dark.” She snuggled against her. “Just close your eyes and go to sleep. I’ll be right here and I’ll leave all the lights on.”

“I don’t think I can sleep. I can still feel the terror of that room—of him.”

“Caroline, try to put it out of your mind.”

“I can’t. He picked me to be his seventh wife—to bear his seventh son. If he had touched me in that way, I would have died. I couldn’t have lived through that.”

“It’s over. Try to think of something pleasant.”

Eli was pleasant and nice and…

“Shut your eyes,” Grace coaxed. “I’ll be right here.”

“Sisters first,” Caroline mumbled, remembering a pact they’d made when they were nine and eight years old. Her eyes closed.

“Sisters first—always,” Grace echoed, as Caroline let go and drifted into a restless sleep.

She didn’t know how long she’d slept, but she woke up screaming. Grace quickly calmed her. “It’s all right. You’re in a hospital. It’s all right.”

“Oh, God,” Caroline whimpered, feeling the remnants of the nightmare about Amos Buford. “I could see him so clearly, as if he was in this room with me.”

“He’s not. I’m the only one here.”

Caroline scooted up in bed. “I can’t sleep. I just can’t.”

“Okay.” Grace pushed up beside her. “Then we’ll talk. There’s a new chick flick out—the mushy, happily ever after stuff that you love. We can go see it as soon as you feel up to it.”

“Okay,” Caroline mumbled.

“And, oh, there’s a new suit at that little dress shop we love. It’s a light mint-green with a lacy camisole. Absolutely fetching. I love it, but its kind of bright and I wanted to get your opinion. Tell you what, I’ll buy the suit and you pick out something equally charming and we’ll dress up and go out to a movie and dinner.”

Caroline rested her head on Grace’s shoulder, relaxing at her easy, nonsensical chatter. “Keep talking.”

“I was thinking about joining one of the fitness places for women. I don’t get much exercise and at my age I should start thinking about that. I hate getting all sweaty, though, and I haven’t figured out a way around that. Maybe you could join me and we…”

The thought of Grace exercising was hilarious—Caroline couldn’t even picture it. She’d join just to get a glimpse of her sister working out. Grace’s voice drummed on and Caroline smiled, letting go of the fear and easing into sleep once more.

CAROLINE AWOKE TO VOICES, familiar voices, and saw that her mother and father were in the room. Joanna was sitting in a chair talking on a cell phone and Stephen was pacing back and forth, talking on his own cell phone. Grace sat by Caroline’s bedside, holding her bandaged hand.

“You’re awake,” Grace said. “Feeling better?”

Caroline didn’t get a chance to answer as her mother jumped up and ran to her. “My baby, my baby,” she cooed, brushing back Caroline’s hair. “Don’t worry about a thing. You’re going to be fine. I’m making arrangements to fly you to Washington to a private clinic, where you’ll get special attention and a qualified therapist to help you deal with this.”

What was her mother talking about? She wasn’t going anywhere.

“Caroline.” Her father came to the bed. “You look much better. Agent Caufield is outside waiting to speak with you. You can handle it, right?”

He didn’t ask how she was, or if she was up to facing anyone. He wanted her to do it because he expected her to. Stephen Whitten’s daughters always did what was expected of them.

She pushed herself into a sitting position and winced.

“Stephen, I don’t think she can do this right now.” Her mother spoke up.

“Yes, I can. I want to tell them what happened.”

“See?” Stephen said. “She’s made of strong stuff.”

Her father opened the door and two men came in. Her father introduced them as Agents Tom Mercer and Bill Caufield. She remembered them from the road where the ambulance had picked her up. Tom sat and began to ask her questions. He took down her answers, recording everything she said about what had happened after the men took her from her apartment.

“That’s good, Ms. Whitten,” Tom said.

“Have they arrested him?”

“Yes. Amos Buford and his men are in jail. The women and children are in another location, and several agencies have been called in to help gather information. We’re hoping to place the children with relatives—we just have to locate them.”

“I hope Amos Buford won’t be able to do this to another woman.”

“Amos will not be on the outside for a while,” Bill promised.

“You make damn sure they put him away forever,” her father ordered.

“We’ll do our best, Congressman Whitten.”

Her father’s eyes narrowed. “Sometimes your best isn’t good enough.”

“How is Eli?” Caroline asked, before her father could demean the agent more than he already had.

“He’s in surgery,” Tom answered, as Bill turned away.

“Surgery?” She sat up straight. “Oh, no.”

“The dog did some damage to his arm and a surgeon’s repairing it.”

“Will he be okay?”

“Now, Caroline,” Stephen interjected. “Don’t upset yourself. I’m sure the man will be fine.”

“Will Eli be okay?” She spoke to Tom, ignoring her father.

“The doctor is very confident, but Eli will be out of commission for a while, at least until his arm heals. I’m not sure who’s going to be brave enough to tell him that, though.”