Forgotten Son. Linda Warren

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Forgotten Son - Linda Warren


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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.”


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