Lethal Legacy: A Novel (Guardians of Justice) (29 page)

At the bottom, he stopped to catch his breath. A necessity he despised but accepted. People got old. And no amount of money could return the youth that had been stolen from him during his years in prison.

Money could solve some problems, however. Fix some injustices. It was doing so at this very moment. But that was smaller consolation than he’d expected on the eve of a holiday meant to be shared with loved ones.

He flipped on the light in the kitchen. Spotting the jar of antacids on the far side of the room, he started toward it—until the sudden ring of his cell phone shattered the tomb-like silence.

Pulse pounding, he jolted to a stop. Then he shook his head. A Rossi, spooked by a ringing phone. How sad was that?

He crossed to the counter and pulled the phone out of the charger. The ID was blocked, but he knew who it was. His colleague had wasted no time. “Yes?”

“I have confirmation the document was delivered. Final arrangements have also been made to handle the other matter. It will be disposed of by dawn.”

“Excellent.” Vincentio picked up the bottle of antacid tablets. “I’ll be in touch should I have further need of your services in the future.”

“Always happy to oblige.” The man hung up.

Vincentio settled the phone back in its charger, shook out four tablets, and popped them in his mouth. He chewed them as he retraced his steps across the kitchen and turned out the light, anxious now to go to bed. Perhaps, with the Walsh matter finally resolved, he would sleep better than he had for the past few nights.

At the base of the stairway, he grasped the railing and hauled himself up to the first step. The second. The third. Pausing, he drew in a deep breath. Coming down had been much easier.

He looked up at the remaining nine steps. Maybe he should get one of those stair-lift contraptions so he could ride up and down while he debated whether to sell the house. Too bad he didn’t have one now. But wishing wasn’t going to get him to the top.

Sighing, he began his ascent, taking one step at a time.

Five steps from the top, Vincentio suddenly felt as if a sumo wrestler had belly flopped onto his chest.

The crushing weight sucked the air from his lungs and he clutched at his throat. His legs gave out, and he sank to the steps. He tried to remain upright. Tried to hold on to the spindles in the railing. But there was no strength in his hands. He felt himself sliding down . . . down . . . down.

So this was how the Rossi legacy—and his life—were going to end. The heart his son claimed he didn’t have was going to betray him.

And as the world around him faded, he welcomed the darkness.

Cole dropped the last three feet from the serpentine bluff-side trail to level ground. His ankle twisted when he landed on a rock, and he winced. He’d made it all the way down the treacherous descent in ill-fitting boots and
now
he messes up his ankle? But at least they were at the bottom. And the sleet had stopped.

Ignoring the ache in his shin, he pulled the flashlight out of the backpack Rick had given him and set a course straight for Kelly, pushing through the leafless saplings and dense brush in his path, Mitch on his heels.

They didn’t talk on their trek.

Instead, Cole used the time to pray. Hard.

When at last he spotted the deputy’s flashlight at the top of the bluff where Bo had delivered the bad news, he felt as if they’d been walking for an eternity.

He also had a better perspective on the height of the cliff—and the length of Kelly’s fall. How could she possibly have survived?

But she had. He’d think about the
how
later.

He aimed the flashlight at the base of the tall pine tree and swung it back in Kelly’s direction.

The instant the beam of light caught her, Cole began pushing through the brush that separated them. She didn’t seem to have moved since he’d spotted her from above, fifteen minutes ago, and her absolute stillness set off a tremor in his hands. She looked limp. And lifeless.

When he reached her, he handed the flashlight to Mitch. “Hold this, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Mitch circled around behind her and dropped to one knee as Cole did the same on her other side. His colleague positioned the light on her upper body, giving Cole his first clear, close-up view at the woman he’d hoped was destined to play a major role in his life.

If he’d eaten any dinner, he’d have lost it.

She lay half on her side, half on her stomach, her hair tangled around her head, ice pellets clinging to the russet strands. Her eyes were closed, and her death-like pallor emphasized the angry purple discoloration on her jaw and temple, as well as the long, bloody scratch that ran from her forehead to the bottom of her cheek.

“Check her respiration and pulse.”

At Mitch’s quiet comment, Cole leaned closer and put his unsteady fingers against her neck. Nothing. He probed harder.

Finally he felt a faint, irregular flutter against his fingertips.
Thank you, God!
“I’ve got a pulse.”

He checked her chest, watching for a rise and fall. Again, nothing. If there was movement, it was too small to see. He leaned down, putting his cheek beside her mouth and nose. He felt no breath, but a slight, pulsing warmth told him she was breathing. Barely.

“I’ve got respiration.”

“Okay. Let’s take a look farther down.” Mitch swung the light over the rest of her body. No skin was visible beneath her jeans and hiking boots, but a bulge around her right knee had tightened the jeans, and the leg had an odd twist.

“I see it.” Mitch spoke as Cole pointed out the injury. “But I’m more worried about stuff we can’t see. Fractured skull, punctured lungs, ruptured spleen, broken ribs.” He swung the light back to her face. “Hold on to this while I see what’s in Rick’s medical kit.”

Cole took the flashlight as Mitch opened the backpack, trying not to think of worst-case scenarios as he leaned down. “Kelly? Can you hear me?”

No response.

She’d been conscious fifteen minutes ago, though. That had to be a positive sign.

Didn’t it?

“Let’s put this over her.” Mitch handed him one end of a mylar blanket. “It will help preserve body heat and protect her from the wind.”

Cole took the blanket and stretched it over Kelly, gently tucking it under her. “How much do you know about first aid?”

“I learned some basic stuff in SEAL training for field emergencies, but not enough to help much in this situation. My recommendation is to keep her as quiet and warm as we can until the experts get here. They shouldn’t be that far behind us.” Mitch gestured to her torso. “Did you notice her jacket?”

In truth, nothing much had registered in Cole’s consciousness except Kelly’s visible abrasions and her unnerving vital signs. “No.”

“There’s a hole in the front. Like the jacket got snagged on a limb from one of the scrubby trees growing on the face of the bluff as she fell. That branch could have gone through
her
. But it seems to have pierced the jacket instead. That would have broken her fall. Crashing through all that scrubby stuff would have slowed her down too. That’s the only explanation I can come up with for how she survived.” He looked down at her again. “It’s about the closest thing I’ve ever seen to a miracle.”

Cole touched Kelly’s cheek. He could buy a miracle. He’d been praying hard enough for one.

And he wasn’t about to stop praying until he knew she had not only survived the fall, but that she would survive
beyond
the fall.

“They’re here.”

At Mitch’s terse comment, Cole shifted his attention from Kelly to the dark woods behind him. A light bobbed among the bare trees in the distance, identifying the location of the rescue team. “It’s about time.”

Mitch checked his watch. “We’ve only been here fifteen minutes.”

It felt like forever.

Cole dropped his gaze to Kelly again, keeping his hand cupped over her cheek and the top of her nose. Warming such a small area of exposed skin wouldn’t help much, but it was better than doing nothing. With the high probability of spinal and neck trauma, moving her to check for injuries had been out of the question.

The sound of crashing brush grew louder, and Mitch stood to aim the flashlight in the direction of the new arrivals. “Over here!”

“Hang on, Kelly.” Cole braced himself with a hand on the ground, dead foliage crunching under his fingers as he leaned close to whisper in her ear. “Help is here. You’re going to be okay.”

His encouraging words produced no response from her, but
he
believed them.

He had to.

“Sir, please move aside.”

The authoritative command came from behind him, and with one more stroke of Kelly’s cold cheek, Cole stood and stepped away.

The paramedic was already assessing Kelly as he drew close. “You two . . .” He gestured to the uniformed firefighters behind him. “Give us some light.”

One of the firefighters positioned himself at Kelly’s feet, the other at her head. The two beams in tandem from the powerful electric torches created a circle of illumination almost as bright as sunlight. Highlighting every visible injury in excruciating detail.

Cole groped for the trunk of the bare tree beside him and held on.

The lead paramedic—Adam, according to his name tag—dropped to his knees beside her and pulled back the mylar blanket. Then he reached for her bare right hand and pressed his fingers against her wrist, assessing her breathing at the same time. “Airway’s open, but let’s get a mask on her. High flow O-2.” He repositioned his fingers on the carotid artery in her neck.

The switch from wrist to neck meant he was having difficulty getting a pulse.

Cole’s own pulse kicked up a notch.

“BP’s low. She’ll need a large-bore IV, normal saline. Let’s cut that pant leg and splint the knee first. Same with the left wrist. Then we’ll get her on a board and in a collar.” He flicked a small penlight in each eye, examined the bump on her forehead, and carefully ran his fingers over her scalp. “No evidence of a depressed skull fracture.”

Leaving the other paramedic to deal with her wrist, he shifted down to her knee. As he split the leg of her jeans, revealing a mass of swollen bruising where her kneecap should have been, Cole closed his eyes. Sucked in a lungful of air. Tightened his grip on the tree.

“Did you notice the broken brush?”

It took a moment for Mitch’s quiet question to register. When it did, Cole opened his eyes. His colleague gestured to the fringes of the light. For about six feet, a narrow section of the ice-encrusted brush was broken and trampled. As if something had been dragged across it.

Or some
one
had dragged herself across it.

Mitch nodded to the pine tree a few feet behind him. “My guess is she was trying to get to some shelter.” He shook his head. “Amazing.”

No kidding.

Cole looked back at Kelly. The paramedics were using elastic wrap to secure the fiberglass splints encasing her leg and wrist.

When they finished, Adam reached for the backboard and glanced at Cole and Mitch. “You two take over the lights for a minute while we immobilize her.”

Sleet started to spit again as Cole took the torch from one of the firefighters, glad to have something useful to do. The paramedics situated a backboard beside Kelly, and the two firefighters took up positions on her other side.

“On the count of three. One . . . two . . . three.”

They log-rolled her onto the backboard and strapped her in place.

“Get the cervical collar on.” Adam shot one of the firefighters a glance. “Check with medevac. If they’re not still grounded, get a helicopter out here stat.”

As he spoke, the other paramedic fitted the collar on Kelly. Then he pulled an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth while Adam prepared to start the IV.

The sleet intensified as the minutes ticked by, only the spatter of ice crystals against the dead leaves breaking the silence.

Finally Adam straightened up. “All right. Let’s get her out of this weather. Bring the basket over.”

One of the firefighters retrieved the plastic litter, and, working together, the four men lifted the backboard into it. Once she was secure, the paramedics tucked another thermal blanket around her.

“Okay.” Adam grasped a handhold on the basket, and the other three took up positions around it. “On three. Nice and smooth. One . . . two . . . three.”

As Cole watched, they lifted in unison—a well-oiled team that had been through this exercise many times. At least Kelly was in skilled hands.

“We’ll move forward on three. Steady as possible.” He gestured toward Cole and Mitch. “Keep the light focused on our path. Okay. One . . . two . . . three.”

Cole aimed the beam on their path as they began their trek through the dark woods, but at every slight jolt of the basket on the rough terrain, he cringed—and wondered what additional damage Kelly might suffer from even this highly professional rescue effort.

It was the longest walk he’d ever taken.

When they emerged from the woods, both patrol cars, the conservation vehicle, and the K-9 unit vehicle were parked beside the ambulance and a fire truck. One of the deputies joined them. “The helicopter’s still grounded.”

“Okay.” Adam continued toward the ambulance without slowing. “Let’s hook her up to a cardiac monitor and some warm saline and get her out of here. We need a Level 1 trauma center. Alert Mercy we’re on the way.”

“I’m assuming you’re going in the ambulance.” Mitch’s comment was a statement, not a question.

“Yeah.” Cole watched them load Kelly as he stripped off the borrowed cold-weather clothing and passed the items back to Rick Stephens with a quick thank-you.

“I’ll get one of the deputies to give me a ride back to your car and meet you at the hospital.”

“Why don’t you take it home?” His fingers fumbled the laces as he tried to tie his shoes. “I can get it tomorrow.”

Mitch pulled the keys out of his pocket. “You’re not getting rid of me yet. And if I follow you, your car will be at the hospital when you need it.” He gestured toward the ambulance. “Go.”

He didn’t waste time arguing. But as he climbed aboard, he called out to Mitch. “Thanks.”

The other man lifted his hand in acknowledgment, then turned away and walked over to the young deputy.

As the paramedic closed the ambulance door and the vehicle began to roll, Cole didn’t relish the thought of hours in the ER. Pacing. Worrying. Praying.

On the other hand, he hoped he wouldn’t need his car anytime soon.

Was that Cole’s voice again? Or was she only imagining it?

Kelly tried to pry her eyes open. No luck. So she concentrated on listening instead. The wail of a siren dominated, but in the background she could hear the rumble of male voices—none of them distinguishable.

Until one asked a question. “What’s her BP now?”

It
was
Cole!

Fighting a mind-numbing lethargy and the radiating pain that had turned her whole body into one big, throbbing ache, she tried again to lift her eyelids. But all she could manage was a flicker. And every breath sent another wave of pain crashing over her.

Last she’d checked, though, her voice had worked—and talking didn’t require much effort.

“Cole?” The muffled word vibrated in front of her face, as if her mouth was covered. She tried again. Louder. “Cole?”

The murmur of masculine conversation stopped. She heard a shuffling sound. Felt a gentle touch on her forehead.

“Kelly?”

Was that Cole? It sounded sort of like his voice, but it was tighter than usual. And hoarse. And raspy.

Once more willing her eyelids to lift, Kelly tried again. This time she managed to raise them.

Cole’s face, inches from her own, wasn’t quite in focus. But it was clear enough for her to distinguish the lines etched at the edges of his eyes and the corners of his mouth, as well as the twin vertical crevices imbedded in his forehead.

“Welcome back.” His mouth twitched, as if he wanted to smile but his lips wouldn’t cooperate.

“Where . . .” She couldn’t muster the energy to formulate the rest of her question.

“You’re in an ambulance. Kelly . . . who did this to you?”

Talking sapped her energy more than she’d expected, but his urgent tone told her she had to answer his question now . . . in case she didn’t make it. “Carlson. Dad . . . too.”

A muscle clenched in Cole’s jaw and his expression hardened. “That’s what we figured.”

“Stay?” She wanted to reach for his hand, but it hurt too much to move.

As if sensing her intent, he found hers instead and linked their fingers. “Count on it.”

“I need to get back in there.” The terse comment came from above her head.

Cole gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “The paramedics have to do their job, but I’ll be right here. Close enough to touch. Okay?”

“’Kay.”

He relinquished his grip, and she missed the warmth of his hand at once. But as she began to drift back into pain-free oblivion, a sense of peace settled over her. No matter what happened now, she’d accomplished the goal she’d set the day her dad’s note arrived in the mail with the tulips. She’d identified his killer. Even if she wasn’t able to see this through to the end, Cole would make sure justice was done on her father’s behalf. He was that kind of man.

And because he was that kind of man, she hoped she’d be around not only for the conclusion of her father’s case—but for the beginning of a romance with one very special detective.

As the ambulance backed toward the doors that led directly into the ER treatment area, Cole angled away from Adam to continue his phone conversation with Lauren. “We just arrived at Mercy. I’ll call you with the email address and fax number in a few minutes, since you have health-care power of attorney.”

“Okay. I’ll authorize them to give you info too.” He heard her exhale. “What about Carlson?”

“The BOLO alert’s been issued. We’ll get him.”

“I still can’t believe he did all this. He was supposed to
protect
people, not kill them.” Her words were laced with incredulity—and revulsion.

“Yeah.” Cops like Carlson made Cole sick to his stomach. They were the rare exception, but they gave all of law enforcement a black eye.

“What’s your own assessment of Kelly’s condition?”

He refocused as the paramedics prepared to open the back doors of the ambulance, picturing the horrendous bruises on her ribs that Adam had found after he’d cut away her clothes en route. But on the plus side, there’d been no evidence of a punctured lung.

“I don’t know. She was conscious for a couple of minutes during the ride here, and I saw her move. But she fell more than forty feet. And she’s really beat up.” His voice choked. “Look, I need to go. Are you sure you want me to call again when we get an assessment? It could be the middle of the night.”

“I don’t care how late it is.”

“Okay. I’ll be back in touch.”

By the time he scrambled out of the ambulance, the paramedics were wheeling Kelly through the double doors. The instant they stepped inside, two nurses converged on them, with a white-coated physician not far behind. Cole followed as they rolled her toward a treatment room, but it was too crowded inside the small space so he hovered at the door.

“Are you a relative?” A black-haired nurse paused on her way into the room.

He did
not
want to be booted, courtesy of HIPAA rules. Pulling out his badge, he flashed it at her. “St. Louis County detective.”

“Okay. You might want to hang out in the waiting room. It’s a lot more comfortable.”

Cole eyed the hard plastic chair in the corner of the treatment room. Not appealing, even if there
was
space for him, and he did need to talk to Mitch. But he couldn’t leave Kelly yet.