Incriminating Evidence (25 page)

His feral grin said he was far too happy to see her.

Chapter Nineteen

A
lec sat on the bench and grabbed a towel and the gun oil. He
should
let an employee clean the weapon, but he needed to think, and he was used to strategizing while cleaning guns.

He should be thinking about the training, his abduction, the campaign, or any of a dozen other things, but Isabel Dawson was first and foremost in his mind. Insane as it sounded, falling in love with her seemed like more than a possibility; he had a feeling it was inevitable. But damn if he was going to let her hide behind her reservations. She would break through them, and he’d be waiting on the other side.

The door to the firing range opened, and Ethan stepped inside. “I’ll clean the guns, Rav.”

Alec frowned at the pistol, then made eye contact with his employee, a man five years his senior whom he’d known since he was twenty-two and the worst shot at boot camp. “How’d she do?”

“Really well. She’s methodical. Like you. With practice, she’ll be a crack shot.” Ethan paused. “Be careful, boss. She’s more fragile than she seems.”

Alec had figured that out already but was curious to know why Ethan would warn him. “What do you mean?”

“Isabel needs to be around people but holds herself back from them. She goes to the Tamarack Roadhouse every week, but more than once I’ve caught her hanging out front, trying to decide if she can step through the door. I figure she’s afraid of connecting to people. Afraid of caring.”

Ethan wasn’t the first person to make that point, and yet Alec had seen little of that side of Isabel. When she was around him, she was all heat and energy.

“I’ll clean the guns,” Ethan said again.

Alec nodded. He really needed to meet Keith in God’s Eye, to give him a brief introduction to the control room. “I won’t hurt her,” he said, as he opened the door. The moment the thick steel portal opened, he heard a loud, piercing scream.

I
sabel stared in shock at Chase as the man dropped to his knees, his hands gripping his head. He sucked in a deep breath and let out another screeching wail. He whimpered and said, “I can’t! I can’t! I’m sorry! I can’t!”

Was he being hit with infrasound? What was happening to him?

“Isabel!” Alec’s shout echoed across the basement.

Chase opened his eyes—bloodshot and watery—and met her gaze. “I’m sorry, boss!” he said through tears. “I can’t do it. I won’t!” Then his body convulsed three times, and he made a gurgling sound that ended abruptly as he teetered, then fell to the floor.

Isabel drew in a deep breath and shouted, “We’re by the elevator!” She dropped to her knees and checked for a pulse. She couldn’t find one. She pushed him over until he lay flat on his back, her heart hammering as she tried to figure out what had happened and what she should do.

One moment Chase was giving her a look of mixed fear and loathing; the next he’d seemed to argue with himself, in a freakish Gollum impersonation, if the
Lord of the Rings
character were a six-foot-tall mercenary. And now the man wasn’t breathing and had no pulse.

Chest compressions first. She’d recertified in CPR last year and knew the drill. Thirty compressions and two breaths—but breathing only if she had a partner. She placed her hands in the center of his chest, one hand on top of the other, and started compressions at a hard, rapid pace, chanting “Another One Bites the Dust” to get the rhythm.

Footfalls sounded and she glanced up to see Alec and Ethan racing toward her at a dead run. “What happened?” Alec asked.

“I don’t know! He has no pulse. He’s not breathing.” She didn’t break stride with the compressions as she answered. The rhythm was fast. She’d begun to sweat as she tried to keep the young operative’s heart beating.

Alec hit the intercom button next to the elevator and relayed the emergency to the communications operator. Ethan knelt beside her and touched Chase’s neck with two fingers.

“You’re doing good. I’m getting a pulse with each compression.”

“You know CPR?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“You can breathe for him, then.”

“You got it.” He positioned Chase’s head to open his airway. “Just tell me when.”

“On thirty.” She’d been counting silently but now she said, “Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.”

Ethan gave Chase two quick breaths, and Isabel returned to counting silently.

“Doc’s on his way,” Alec said as he knelt down across from her. “Do you want me to take over?”

“Not yet. Soon.” She focused on Chase’s face as she counted chest compressions. He was so young. Twenty-two or three? Far too young for his heart to stop. Something had been
done
to him. But what? Why? And how did it connect to what happened to Vin? To Alec? To her?

Isabel’s forehead was slick with sweat by the time the elevator door opened. Doc Larson and his assistant stepped out, followed by a gurney being pushed by someone from security. The gurney was loaded with equipment.

“Keep doing chest compressions,” Larson said as he grabbed his equipment from the gurney. Alec moved out of the way, and Larson took his spot. While Isabel pounded on Chase’s chest, Larson used a blade to slice open Chase’s thick camouflage shirt, starting at the sleeve and cutting from hem to the neckline. He repeated the action with the other arm.

Isabel reached the end of the cycle and stopped compressions so Ethan could breathe. Larson took the opportunity to pull the shirt down, exposing Chase’s chest. He quickly placed a small square patch in the middle of his chest, then nodded to Isabel.

She positioned her hands again, this time above the square pad, and returned to the fast beat as Larson placed a larger square patch to the upper right on Chase’s chest that was connected to the smaller one under her hands. He then placed a final large square patch on Chase’s left side, just below the nipple line. He quickly placed four small electrodes—two on Chase’s upper hip bones, two on his collarbones—and the monitor sprang to life.

Larson paused and studied the screen. “Patient is in V-fib. On my count, Isabel will stop compressions and switch positions with Ethan.” He counted down, then nodded to Isabel, who scooted back so Ethan could take over chest compressions.

“Charging to 200 Joules… Everybody clear… Delivering shock.” He pushed a button.

Chase’s body contracted, his whole body jolting—almost levitating from the floor. Larson kept his gaze on the monitor. “Ethan, begin compressions,” he instructed.

Ethan took over the job of pounding on Chase’s chest, while Isabel moved to take over breathing, but Larson’s assistant brushed her aside and put a manual resuscitator mask over Chase’s nose and mouth.

She slumped backward and took her own deep breath.

When Ethan reached the end of the cycle, he counted aloud, and the assistant pumped the air-filled bag two times. Meanwhile, Doc Larson was in the process of setting up an IV. He injected something into the line.

“You both have done great,” Larson said without taking his gaze from the monitor.

The minutes moved slowly, and she wasn’t even doing the compressions any more. She met Ethan’s gaze. With a quick nod, she indicated she could take over after the next round.

Larson’s gaze never wavered from the screen. Finally, he spoke. “He’s in sinus rhythm now. Stop CPR.” He pressed fingers to Chase’s throat. “Strong carotid.” He shifted to his wrist. “Weak radial.”

Instant tears sprang to her eyes. She scooted backward to get out of the way so the security officer and Larson’s assistant could lift Chase to the stretcher.

“If his heart keeps going, he may be solid for airlift to Fairbanks.” He nodded to his assistant, who’d been busy in the background, handing the doctor the various patches and tools necessary, and it vaguely registered that he’d been on the phone, calling for emergency airlift. She’d been so focused on Chase, the rest was a blur.

“Let’s get him up to the clinic. Isabel, Ethan, Rav, ride with us and tell me what happened.”

Everyone crammed into the elevator, a tight fit due to the gurney carrying Chase. Isabel gave a brief rendition of Chase’s screams, disoriented speech, convulsions, and eventual collapse. The only time the doctor looked away from the heart monitor was when she mentioned infrasound and added that she thought he’d been hit with a frequency that caused an abnormal heart rate and eventual cardiac arrest.

Larson’s eyes widened, and he turned to Alec with an accusing gaze. “Infrasound? I thought you stopped the experimental weapons program.”

“I did. It appears someone decided to continue it without my knowledge.”

The elevator doors opened, and Larson pushed the gurney into the corridor. “We’ll discuss this later, Rav. Right now I have a patient to take care of.” His angry tone made it clear he was as suspicious of his boss as Isabel had once been.

The elevator doors closed, leaving Isabel, Alec, and Ethan inside. No one had pushed a button. They didn’t move. Isabel was at a loss for where they should go. What they should do. Alec opened his arms, and she fell into them. The tears she’d been holding back burst through her control. She had no clue why she cried. It could be the shock of watching a man collapse before her, the relief his heart had restarted, or the fear his heart would stop again.

“You did great, honey,” Alec murmured as he stroked her back. “If he lives, it’s thanks to you and Ethan.”

She pulled back and met his gaze. “He’s what, twenty-three? His heart never should have stopped. What the hell is going on?”

The intercom inside the elevator beeped. Behind her, Ethan pressed the button and identified himself.

“This is Hatcher. Is Rav with you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell him Markwell and I are in Chase Johnston’s quarters on the fourth floor, and we need him. Now.”

A
lec flipped through the pages of Chase Johnston’s most recent journal. Anger mixed with horror caused his stomach to clench with each turn of the page. Johnston had been stalking Isabel. For three months. Page after page showed photos of Isabel. Handwritten underneath were dates, times, and locations.

“He must have set up cameras in town,” he said to Nicole and Keith. “He had to be working some of these dates and times.” He closed his eyes. This was worse than bad. Isabel had claimed—several times—that in addition to someone shooting off bear bangers on her property, she was being monitored by Raptor personnel. Of course the claim made her look like a nutcase or a liar. This was proof she was neither, and the fact that one of his employees had been stalking the woman who’d been on a crusade to shut down the compound wouldn’t look good, no matter what his relationship with her was now.

His campaign could well fall apart. He was already slipping in the polls. His opponent had raised questions about his missing hours, and voters were echoing them to the pollsters. Stimson had cast suspicion on the silence from the campaign on the subject, and it didn’t help that Alec was still in Alaska, and not in Maryland working damage control. A full seven percent of the registered voters who’d been firmly in the Ravissant camp had moved to the undecided column.