The Gatekeeper

Forty-One

Jake sat by Kelly’s hospital bed, head in his hands. He’d had to fight to enter the ICU. In the end, George’s badge got them through before Jake punched a nurse.

George stood by the window, gazing out at the setting sun. They’d taken the first flight out of Dallas, arriving in San Diego around noon. George periodically excused himself to field some calls, then returned with updates on the bomb investigation. Jake didn’t even bother processing those, he just sat staring blankly at the motionless form on the bed. Kelly looked so small lying there. Part of him didn’t believe it was really her, she looked too frail, her skin so pale it was almost translucent.

A hole had been torn in the truck by the force of the blast, but the C4 didn’t ignite. Leonard died instantly, along with two other agents. Two more were touch and go. Apparently Kelly had shouted out a warning that gave the rest time to take cover at the front and rear of the truck, which shielded them from the worst of the explosion. All that was left of Dante Parrish was a shoe and a necklace. He’d spent his last moments reciting the same poem Timothy McVeigh read during his execution.

Kelly had been found nearly thirty feet away, one leg trapped under a hunk of metal from the side of the truck. She was suffering from massive internal bleeding. After the first round of surgeries they induced a coma and crossed their fingers. Every hour someone came to check her right leg, which produced a noticeably lower bump in the sheet than the left. There were murmurs about removing it, but when they tried to wheel her to surgery Jake almost had to be restrained. George talked the doctors into waiting. What was left unspoken was that in the end, the leg might be irrelevant. There was a good chance Kelly wasn’t going to survive.

Every so often Jake broke the silence. Random childhood memories, past cases, how he pictured their future together. They said she might be able to hear him, but holding her hand, he knew it wasn’t true. He kept stroking the ring he’d put on her finger, the canted edges of the ruby hard and cold against his thumb. He could feel it through her slender fingers-her hands were always so cold, even when it was warm outside-there was no one in there. Kelly’s chest rose and fell, but she’d already checked out.

George reentered the room. “Burke’s dead.”

“What?” Jake looked up.

“They went to arrest him at his place in Virginia -after the guy in Dallas talked they finally got a warrant. Looks like a heart attack.”

“That’s convenient,” Jake said. The bastard was lucky, because Jake had already planned on making sure he felt every bit of the pain Kelly was experiencing. A heart attack was merciful in comparison.

“And whoever prepared the iridium for the dirty bomb screwed up-it was packaged in such a way that it wouldn’t disperse. So they’ve given the all clear for Phoenix.” George rubbed his eyes as he spoke. He appeared to have aged years in the past two days.

“Randall,” Jake said, thinking that maybe he hadn’t given the guy enough credit. Despite everything, he’d made sure the bombs wouldn’t wreak as much havoc as they could have.

“I’m headed to the cafeteria, you want anything?” George asked.

“Not hungry.” Jake rubbed Kelly’s hand again to warm it. The blip on the monitor kicked up. His eyes darted to it, but almost immediately it settled into the familiar rhythm.

“C’mon, just a banana or something.” George paused at the threshold. “Doctors said there probably wouldn’t be any change tonight. You might as well eat something, or try to get some sleep.”

“Leave it alone, George,” Jake said, more forcefully than he’d intended.

George raised both hands in defeat. “Fine.”

He passed Rodriguez on the way out. Jake heard them exchange a low murmur, then Rodriguez entered, looking concerned.

He wished people would leave them alone. Jake wanted to bar the door and keep everyone out, stop them from poking and prodding her every five minutes. He imagined scooping her up in his arms, tucking her in the car and driving away. They could go to the beach-Kelly had grown up on the East Coast, she’d never seen the sun set over the ocean. He could give her that.

Jake couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow this was his fault. If he’d refused to get the company involved in Syd’s private bullshit, then maybe Kelly wouldn’t be lying here. She would never have heard of Dante Parrish, wouldn’t have been in San Diego, miles away from him, when that maniac set off a grenade. Part of him knew it was ridiculous, but the guilt was tough to shake. Plus he had to admit, the past few days he’d spent more time thinking about Syd. If Kelly didn’t make it, he’d never be able to forgive himself.

Rodriguez was still standing by the door looking uncomfortable.

“You can go home, you know,” Jake said without looking up.

“Yeah, I know,” Rodriguez said, eyes locked on Kelly’s inert form. “She was a great agent.”

Jake wanted to throttle him for using the past tense. But he took a deep breath, nodded and said, “Yeah.”