Blake squatted on the opposite side of the injured man. He opened the black leather wallet and flipped to the ID. “The driver’s license says his name is Norman Franks, and he’s from Denver.”
She took a water bottle from her backpack and twisted off the cap. “Norman,” she said loudly. “Norman, I want you to take a drink.”
His eyelids pinched but there was no other reaction to his name. His breathing was quick and shallow. Knowing that dehydration was an issue, she held the bottle to his mouth and tilted his head so he wouldn’t choke. He barely managed a sip.
Blake leaned over him. “Too bad you can’t talk to me, Norman. I’ve got questions.”
“You’ll have to wait,” she said.
Blake didn’t give up. “Norman, who are you working for? Give me a name.”
“Stop it. He can’t talk.”
“I guess not.” Blake moved down the body to inspect Norman’s ankle. “There’s a lot of swelling. I should get his shoe off.”
“There are supplies in my pack for splinting.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
It made sense that Blake would know how to handle emergency procedures; he was a soldier who had gone to the aid of those injured in battle. While she cleaned the head wound, he used bandages and an inflatable splint to immobilize the injured ankle so Norman could be transported when the rescue team got here.
After she bandaged the bloody gash on his forehead, she made another attempt with the water bottle.
Norman grabbed her arm. His eyes flashed open. His mouth gaped. He was trying to speak.
“What is it?” she asked. “What do you want to tell me?”
Blake was close beside her. “Talk to us, Norman.”
His fingers were like claws digging through her parka. His body convulsed. He shivered from head to toe. Then his eyes slammed shut and he released his grasp.
He lay very still, barely breathing.
Chapter Twelve
If there had been a way to keep score, Blake would have said that his team was winning. Kovak and the mountain rescue team had evacuated Norman Franks, aka the kidnapper, aka the intruder, to the hospital in Aspen. His injuries had been treated. He was under guard and still unresponsive. There was no indication that he had been working with an active partner. The arrest status of his dupes, Farley and his friends, hadn’t changed. And there hadn’t been any other threats.
On the minus side, a search team from the sheriff’s department failed to find the bomb. Their theory was that when Blake threw it, the pack had gotten hung up in high tree branches. When the weather cleared, they’d come back with a chopper to search from overhead.
At two o’clock in the afternoon, a light snow was beginning to dribble down from cloudy skies. The forecast for tomorrow was eight to twelve inches. The morning after that was the wedding ceremony, and then he’d be leaving on Sunday. Not sure how he felt about that.
Blake stood on the landing at the top of the staircase in the B and B and rested his elbows on the rail as he looked down at the front entrance. Senator Hank Layton and his wife, Rebecca, were expected to arrive at any minute.
He quietly watched as Sarah steamed across the entryway and caught up to Alvardo, who was on his way out of the front room. She waved her mobile phone, connected with the landline, at him. Her angry voice carried.
“I’ve got a bone to pick, Alvardo.”
He slowly turned to face her. His jaw was tight. His earlier appreciation of her charms was no longer evident. “What’s your problem?”
“You called the florist and told them they weren’t allowed to enter.
Really?
Do you
really
think that somebody who works for a shop named Roses and Ribbons is dangerous?”
“I ran a background check,” Alvardo said. “Two employees have criminal records. They were arrested for causing a public disturbance four years ago.”
“So what?” Sarah planted one fist on her hip and gestured with the phone. Though Blake couldn’t see her face, he knew she’d be glaring, shooting lightning bolts from her dark eyes. “Emily has a worse criminal record than that, and she’s the most innocent person I’ve ever known.”
“I’m doing as I was ordered. Nobody with a record gets access to the house.”
“Then, you’re going to meet the florist’s truck at the kitchen door and unload all the flowers yourself. I’ll inform you when they arrive.”
She turned on her heel and stalked down the hall toward the kitchen. Alvardo cursed under his breath at her retreating form.
Blake almost laughed out loud. As far as he was concerned, Alvardo had gotten the dressing-down that he deserved because he hadn’t followed orders precisely. Blake had said to inform him before taking action, and he would have given a pass to the Roses and Ribbons crew. Alvardo’s obsessive-compulsive behavior was annoying. Still, it was better for him to be too careful instead of too lax.
The honking of a car horn from the front brought Emily running from the kitchen. She unlocked the front door and dashed onto the porch. Her shouts of delight rang through the house as she dragged a tall, thin man with graying hair inside and hugged her mother—a slender, graceful woman in a white ski jacket with a fake fur collar. When Jeremy joined them, there were hugs and kisses all around. Everybody talked. Everybody laughed.
The touchy-feely reunion of the Layton family contrasted the air of formality when the general had made his entrance. If it was true that opposites attracted, these two families would be bonded in no time. Blake doubted that would happen.
He noticed Sarah standing at the edge of the excitement. She wore her professional, innkeeper smile, welcoming her guests and assuring them that they’d be well cared for. She was good at masking her deeper emotions under a layer of efficiency and practicality, but he’d seen a different side to her. In the cave behind the waterfall, she had relaxed her guard. Last night when they’d kissed, he had felt her passion.
She glanced up and saw him on the landing. Her lips curved in a smile that seemed to be meant only for him. He might have been reading too much into her expression, but he imagined that she was thinking of their kiss. Holding her gaze, he came down the staircase and was immediately engulfed in a whirlpool of Layton family goodwill with introductions and hugs, even from the senator. Sarah had also been sucked into the happy vortex.
A young blond man with puppy-dog eyes came through the open door, carrying two large suitcases. “Hate to interrupt,” he said, “but there are six more of these to unload.”
“Eight suitcases?” Emily rolled her eyes. “Mom, you’re only going to be here for three days.”
“Half of it is yours,” Rebecca Layton said. “I have your bridal gown. And a perfect dress for you, Sarah. And I brought supplies for a spa day tomorrow.”
Under her breath, Sarah said, “Please don’t tell me you packed your own masseuse.”
“Lotions, potions and oils,” Rebecca said. “We’re going to smell like a garden.”
Blake introduced himself to the blond man—the senator’s speechwriter, whose name was Horatio Harrison Waverly-Smythe III. He asked to be called Skip.
Blake waved him toward the door. “Come on, Skip. Let’s get that van unloaded.”
“Their rooms are upstairs in the left wing,” Sarah said. “I’ll show you when you come back in.”
“Where’s Jeremy’s father?” the senator asked. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting him.”
The happy merry-go-round stalled. The senator versus general confrontation wasn’t anybody’s idea of a good time. In the back of their collective minds, they’d all been dreading it. The time was almost here.
Emily giggled and laced her arm through her father’s. “Daddy, I want you to come upstairs with me first. Let me show you around. You’ve never been here.”
Her mother backed her up. “That’s right, Hank. You weren’t able to come with me when I visited Bentley’s B and B. You’re going to love the history. Teddy Roosevelt slept here. Isn’t he one of your favorite presidents?”
“I like Teddy.”
“Lots of celebrities have stayed here,” Emily said. “Sarah has a wall of photos in her office. Clark Gable and Marlene Deitrich and Gregory Peck.”
“Oh, I’d like to see those pictures.”
“First, we go upstairs,” Rebecca said. “Let’s unpack.”
The senator allowed himself to be dragged up the staircase.
Crisis averted.
Outside in the light snow, Blake hoisted a trunk-size suitcase from the airport van and glanced at Jeremy. “What do you think is going to happen when they meet?”
“They’re civilized men,” Jeremy said tentatively. “They have their differences, but they won’t lose control. They’ll probably just stare at each other in icy silence.”
“You think?” Blake went up the steps to the porch. “I’m betting on a slap fight.”
“I’ll take that bet,” Skip said as he met them at the door. “Senator Layton has been working out. Fifty bucks says they never get past the handshake that turns into a test of who can squeeze harder.”
Inside the house, Sarah heard just enough to guess what was going on. In a whisper, she said, “I can’t believe it. Are you betting on what happens when they meet?”
Blake nodded. “What do you think—icy silence, slap fight or aggressive handshake?”
“None of the above,” she said. “The general has been drinking since lunch. He’s going to throw his single malt whiskey in the senator’s face.”
“No way,” Jeremy said. “Not my dad. Throwing drinks is too girlie, and he never wastes his single malt.”
Skip was keeping score. “Care to make it interesting, Sarah? Fifty bucks?”
“Why not?” She shot them all a stern gaze. “Don’t say anything about this to Emily.”
Upstairs, they went to the bedrooms on the left. Sarah had thought far enough ahead to house the general and his aides in the right wing on the opposite end of the house. The last bedroom on that side would be occupied by the twins, who were moving in later today to provide full-time security until after the wedding.
When they unloaded and shuffled things around, it became apparent that the Laytons’ luggage would require its own room.
“We’re going to need a full-length mirror in here,” Rebecca said. “And a freestanding rack to hang the gowns.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Emily said.
“Don’t worry,” Sarah reassured her. “Blake can help me move things around.”
He nodded agreement. Until now, his primary concern had been security for the B and B. He hadn’t realized how much effort had gone into the wedding preparations. He’d gotten off easy. His only duty as best man was planning the bachelor party, and he’d delegated the finding of a stripper to Alvardo. Maybe he ought to check with Sarah about beer and snack food.
“The B and B is almost full,” she said to him. “If the snow gets bad and the women I have helping with the cooking and housekeeping have to stay, I’ve got one vacant room downstairs and one at the end of this hall.”
“Plus the dormitory space in the attic where the band is staying.” He stood beside her and watched as Emily and her mother tried to divert the senator with unpacking duties. “And you’ve got that big bedroom in the downstairs south wing.”
“That’s the nicest suite in the house,” she said. “I’m keeping it open, just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“If we get hit by a blizzard, the airport will close down and the newlyweds will have to stay here after the ceremony.”
“And the big bedroom becomes the honeymoon suite.”
She nodded. “Not as good as their planned trip to Jamaica. At least, they’ll have some privacy.”
The senator had changed from his parka to an argyle sweater vest worn over a dark brown turtleneck and jeans. He straightened his narrow shoulders and hitched up his belt. “I’d like to meet General Hamilton now. Jeremy, does your father go by Charlie or Chuck?”
“You’ll have to ask him, sir.”
Blake suppressed a chuckle. If the liberal senator marched up to the general and called him Chuck, the odds were good for a slap fight.
With the senator and Jeremy leading the way, they filed down the staircase and went into the front room. The general sat in the heavy leather chair beside the fireplace. Alvardo was opposite him. Maddox was nowhere in sight, and Blake assumed he’d taken a position in the office where he could monitor all the camera feeds.
The general rose to his feet. He wasn’t a particularly large man, but he was solid as a brick wall. His neatly trimmed white hair caught the light from the fire. His nondescript expression reminded Blake of a man facing a potential foe, ready to smile or to snarl.
The senator approached with hand outstretched. “I’m Henry Layton. Call me Hank.”
The general darted a glance at Sarah, perhaps recalling their first meeting when she teased about his name. Calmly, he said, “I’m Charles.”
When they shook hands, the air in the room felt electrified. Blake wouldn’t have been surprised to see sparks flaring between them, but the handshake ended without incident. Hank introduced Rebecca and his speechwriter, Skip. The general did the same with Alvardo.
Then it was quiet—the icy silence Jeremy had predicted.
Emily tried to start a nonconfrontational conversation. “Jeremy and I thought we could have the ceremony in this room. The justice of the peace can stand right over here, and I can come down the staircase.”
Hank hadn’t moved away from the general. He stood a few inches taller. His graying hair was longer and fell across his forehead. There was something of the trustworthy small-town lawyer about him, and Blake remembered Jeremy telling him that Hank Layton liked to think of himself as a modern-day Atticus Finch. Though his argyle sweater vest was more casual than Charles’s tweed jacket, the senator held himself with an air of authority. After all, he was a senator, and it took a high degree of determination to reach that political station.
Likewise, the general was a leader, accustomed to having men jump to do his bidding. They faced off like a couple of old lions. Not growling at each other, but wary.
Hank spoke first. “I want you to know that I don’t blame you for the attempted kidnapping, Charles. In fact, I’m not sure that the perpetrator wasn’t coming after me.”
The general lifted his chin. “You have enemies. I’m aware of that.”
“Some are violent,” Hank said. “I’m not accusing anyone, but I’ve angered some groups that are armed and dangerous. You see, I’m pro–gun control.”
“Of course you are.”
Blake could see the gloves coming off. His bet on a slap fight was looking more likely.
“I’d like to suggest,” Hank said, “for the duration of the weekend, that we follow the example of Emily and Jeremy. We can agree to disagree, without discussion or rancor.”
“You’re quite a little mediator,” Charles said.
“That’s my job.”
“Glad you told me. I’ve often wondered what you people do in the Senate.”
“As opposed to what you do in the Pentagon.” Hank’s gray eyes turned to flint. “That’s pretty damned clear, isn’t it?”
“Protecting human rights,” the general said, “making the world safe for democracy. That’s what I do.”
“Agree to disagree.”
Emily attempted to insert herself between them. “Okay, you two. That’s enough.”
The general squared off. “If you senators took the time to understand what we do at the Pentagon, you wouldn’t be so quick to chop our funding.”
“If you learned to spend responsibly, we wouldn’t have to treat you like spoiled children.”
“Unbelievable. You’re lecturing me about responsibility when you can’t even pass a budget.”
“Stop it,” Emily said.
“Take off the blinders, Charles. The army works for the people of this country, and that’s who I represent.”
“Don’t do this.” Emily stamped her foot.
“Honey,” her father said, “I’m being more than fair.”
“For a change,” Charles said.
“Don’t interrupt when I’m speaking to my daughter.”
“Stop.” Emily grabbed the general’s drink from the table and threw it at her father. “Listen to me.”
Charles smirked. “You heard the little lady.”