Page 67 of Facing the Enemy

“Sure. Friends can find out later.”

“Sorry to spoil your Christmas.”

“We didn’t even put up a tree this year. We’re fine with a different way of celebrating our Savior’s birth. Plenty of churches in Charleston.”

“Love you. Pray all the people working this case are successful. It would be my Christmas gift to you.”

“Stay safe, Risa. We love you. We can’t lose you too.”

After Dad texted that they were on I-10E for a road trip, I snatched my keys. First stop was the Methodist Hospital in the medical center to see Jack. A nurse stopped me at the nurses’ station, and two police officers met me outside Jack’s room. I appreciatedtheir diligence and told them, yet neither officer budged until my creds were approved.

“Has Agent Bradford received visitors today?” I said to a female officer, about my height, highlighted hair, and earth-brown eyes.

“A brother to the patient who stated he’d return tonight and a woman whom we refused entry. Claimed to be a niece. She wasn’t on the list the brother provided us. The patient was asleep, and we refused to wake him for clarification or entry.”

Her photo would be on the security cams. “Do you remember her name?”

“Yes, and the front desk would have it too. Mary Smith.”

Right. “Thank you.” I texted her name to the office techs and gained permission to view the security cams. I sent her image to SAC Dunkin, ASAC Kendall, and Gage.

The female officer approached me. “Agent Jacobs, the patient is awake. You have five minutes.”

I entered Jack’s private room to the sound of life support equipment, vital monitors, and the drip of two IV bags offering healing fluids to his battered body. I stood over his bed. “Hey, Jack. It’s Risa.”

He opened his eyes to reveal slits of recognition. I expected a pale face but not the gray gathering darkness of death and the craters beneath his eyes. I inwardly shuddered and forced a smile to shake off my concerns. I leaned closer so he wouldn’t need to move. He opened his mouth but nothing audible met my ears.

“No need to talk,” I said. “Just checking on you.”

He wet his cracked lips. “Ice,” he whispered.

A paper cup of chipped ice and a spoon sat on his nightstand. I spoon-fed a small amount, and he nodded his appreciation.

“We will find who attacked you,” I said.

He blinked and mustered strength to whisper. “How?”

“I’ve been on leave. Only the SAC was aware of my true status. I had great difficulty sorting out my life and career after my brother’s death. I’ll explain when you’re feeling better. Now I’m back to work. What can I do besides spoon you ice?”

He shook his head slightly. “Nothing.” He closed his eyes. “Brother ... takin’ care of things.”

“I’ll be back to see you. I’m sure Gage will too. We’re praying for a speedy recovery. Get some rest.”

“Luke?”

“Luke Reardon?” When he mouthed a yes, I understood. “You want me to contact him?”

“Yes ... I ... suspect.”

“Who?”

His eyelids struggled to stay open. “Worried ... Gage ... I know link.” Jack drifted off to sleep.

“Jack. What’s the link? Do you have a name?” But I couldn’t rouse him. The female police officer informed me that my five minutes were up.

I thanked her and waited at the nurses’ station for the nurse who’d talked to me earlier. “Excuse me, I just visited Jack Bradford, and he fell asleep. Can you tell me with his meds when he’ll waken? I’m with the FBI and would like to ask him a few questions.”

The nurse pulled up Jack’s file on his computer. “The doctor prescribed sleeping medication, and those were administered about ten minutes ago. He may be out for hours.”