intervention, and by all accounts, including yours, she's pretty damn damaged anyway, so it's a small risk compared to what else and who else could be at stake if we don't get them." I heard his business-like tone but it sounded pretty fucking callous to me.
"She's not damaged. She's recovering. You mean I saved her life only to risk it again to catch the... potential terror suspects who tried to kill her the first time? I can't ask her to do that... she'll never agree to be bait in a trap. Especially not if it means they'll get near her again!" I barked into my phone. Some hospital visitors carrying flowers looked at me in alarm, before hurrying off down the ward.
"Fuck, Nathan, you're not stupid enough to think we're going to tell her, are you? She'll go home and we'll just keep an eye out for anyone suspicious approaching her house. We'll send a team in and we'll have our suspects!" He laughed. I wanted to smash his phone through his teeth. Maybe calling in reports wasn't such a bad thing, after all. I'd hate to find out what ASIO would do to me for punching my superior in the face.
I tried to keep my voice down, but it was bloody hard. "And what if our team is slow and doesn't get there in time? What if they reach Caitlin before we can stop them?"
He'd stopped laughing. "That's a risk we'll have to take. If she won't tell us what we need to know, then she's more valuable as a possible target than as a source of information. Don't make this personal, Nathan. She's not your sister. She's a girl you barely know."
I lost it. "Yes, sir, I know Caitlin's not one of my sisters, because Alanna died in a lot of pain at the hands of your suspects and Chris will be next if we don't find them. Caitlin's the miracle girl who managed to survive, despite everything they did to her. We owe her for any info she can give us on the suspects – I owe her, if she can help me keep them from Chris." My voice broke. "Please – let me stay with her for another week or two, in case I notice anything the surveillance guys don't pick up. Maybe... maybe she'll tell me more and we can still go with the original plan, finding out where they are so we can arrest them before they reach her."
"What'll you do if I say no?" He sounded amused, but it wasn't fucking funny.
"I'll..." Obey orders and let Caitlin die? Ignore my orders and protect her anyway? Beg you to change your mind? Shoot her myself because it's more humane than what they'll do to her? "I'll take personal leave and do what I can on my own time."
There was silence, then another slurp. "You have two more weeks, tops. But you tell her nothing about who you work for or that she's under surveillance. I want her to look scared and worried, like an easy target. You'll have to use every bit of your charm on this one, if you expect her to let you live in her house." He took a deep breath. "Fuck. Good luck keeping her alive, Nathan. It'll be bloody bad press for our department if we manage to accidentally kill the girl on the front cover of tomorrow's West."
Oh, shit. My charm wasn't worth shit with Caitlin. And she'd never survive without me. "I'll do my utmost," I swore, desperately hoping it would be enough to keep Caitlin alive.
"You do that," he said before he hung up.
I let out a long-held breath, wondering what the chances were of me not fucking this up. Slim to none, was my best guess. And I was betting with Caitlin's life. The stakes were far too high for me, and I couldn't even tell her what I'd done. Fuck, I wouldn't want to, either. If I failed, she'd kill me.
50
She'd had her fingers free for two days, so they discharged Caitlin that afternoon, before any more press turned up. I offered to give her a lift home right away and, rather than have to call anyone else and wait longer, she accepted.
Now that her stitches were out, she could walk a little, but I was the one who walked alongside the unfamiliar nurse pushing her wheelchair. She was slow, but I kept pace with them until we reached the outside doors. I saw Michael take up his position on a couch in the foyer. He nodded to me once before turning his eyes back to Caitlin.
Secure in the knowledge that she was under surveillance still and she'd be safe 'til I returned, I asked Caitlin to wait while I brought the car to her. She nodded and shifted to a seat by the door, before the nurse whisked the wheelchair back inside. I set off across the car park, my swift strides carrying me quickly across the tarmac. Surveillance or not, I didn't want to leave Caitlin alone for long.
I pulled the car up under the portico at the entrance, but there was an ambulance in my way. I could see Caitlin sitting on the bench beside it, looking little and vulnerable. She stared at the paving below her dangling feet, for the bench was too high for her toes to touch the ground. She wore clothes I'd hurriedly bought from the nearest supermarket and they didn't fit her. Even the cheap pair of thongs hung from her feet, a few centimetres of green foam rubber clearly visible past her heels. An abandoned waif in oversized clothing, looking as lonely as if she'd been left there for good. My heart ached for her as I waited and watched.
Michael caught my eye and nodded again as he stood up. He stuck his magazine under his arm and marched out of the hospital, without another glance at Caitlin or me. His watch was over for the day – now it was my responsibility to get her home, before the next surveillance shift started at her house.
I waited patiently until the ambulance officers headed off. I drove into the space they'd sat in, right in front of Caitlin. From forlorn to frantic, the change was as sudden as cutting the car's engine. I stopped and she panicked, lurching to her feet and nearly tripping as she tried to retreat inside the hospital foyer.
I got out of the car, running around to her. "Caitlin, what's wrong? What are you doing?"
She shook her head. "They're not going to take me back. I'll die first!"
I looked around wildly, scanning the car park for any sign of danger, but I saw none. What had she seen that I'd missed?
I approached her slowly, but she shrank away, backing up against the window beside the automatic doors. "I won't get into their car again. Not you – you can't take me back!" Her eyes were huge with horror.
Their car? My car. Oh, fuck, I forgot about the car.
I stood in front of her now, shaping my expression into a smile to mask my desire to smack myself in the head for being so stupid. "It's not their car. It's mine."
"No – I trusted you!"
I started to understand the extent of her terror.
Through the glass behind her, I saw the hospital security guard speaking to the receptionist as she pointed urgently at us. He turned to look and started toward the entrance, looking grim. He wasn't the guard who'd been on duty that morning, keeping the reporters from Caitlin. This was a new bloke who didn't know me or her, and this scene looked bad from any perspective. Oh, shit.
Every instinct went against it, but I forced myself to back away from her, my hands up in a gesture of surrender. Behind her, one security guard had become two and the newcomer knew me on sight, not least of all from his help that morning. I could see him speaking urgently to the first bloke, his hands waving wildly as he shook his head.
The helpful one... I struggled to remember his name. I knew I'd spoken to him before and he'd had a distinct accent... Sam? No, Sean. The dark-haired Irish bloke.
Sean the security guard looked enquiringly at me and I gave a slight nod, which he returned, walking away. His colleague looked grumpy, but headed away, too.
Right, that sorted security escorting me off the premises and leaving Caitlin with no one else to watch over her. I still had to get her into the car and home.
Looking at Caitlin again, I pointed at the bench. "I'm going to sit down. If you want, you can join me," I told her evenly, as I took careful steps to the bench and plonked my bum on it.
She was slower to move, but it was only a few seconds before she slumped down heavily on the bench next to me. I regretted letting her stay on her feet so long – she looked pale and clammy already.
"This is my car. It's been my car since I turned twenty-one and my parents bought it for me for my birthday," I said steadily. Yeah, they'
d bought me a blocky, conservative car that said I had money but couldn't take off fast, for that wouldn't mean a smooth ride in the luxury bloody sedan.
It had a comfortable back seat, though, that'd seen some use... I shut that thought down before it went any further.
Focus. Caitlin.
She stared at it, licking her lips nervously. "They had a car just like this one. They pulled me into it and drove me there... and..." She gulped back tears, not wanting to finish her sentence.
"Check the number plate, if you like. Then you'll see they probably just had the same car as I do." If you know the number plate, now's the time to tell me.
She shook her head. "I never saw the number plate. I wouldn't know."
"Would you like to check the car? I'll pop the bonnet and the boot and open all the doors. If you find any of them, I will happily beat the crap out of them for you, with the tyre iron, even," I offered cheerfully. Behind my back, I crossed my fingers, desperate for any luck I could get.
She let out a held breath and laughed, a little nervously, but it was a laugh, nonetheless.
"But... you swear you don't work for them?" She smiled as she spoke, as if she felt silly even voicing the words.
I did my best to take her question seriously, clearing my throat before I replied, "No. And even if I had, I'd say that arrangement would have ended about the time one of them