The firemen were rolling their hoses back up, satisfied that Cynthia’s house was safe from smoldering back into flames. Water dripped from the eaves like tears over the gaping wound of the front window, exposing the now hollowed, gutted living room inside, strewn with soggy, smashed debris. At least it was repairable. Cynthia had been wheeled away, still unconscious, but stable. Nick had hoped she would wake enough to offer some explanation, but all he could do now was hypothesize.
Something had come for her. Likely a goon of Drake’s. The question was, why? Laurel had come to stop him. How had she known? What was happening on the other side? How? He wondered about Reg. He generally had the beat on anything ghostly going on. It worried Nick that nothing had been heard from Reg for a while now, and his call to him earlier had gone unanswered. Deadworld was becoming the great unknown factor in all this. Drake’s trump card. It was all a matter of blood. Nick turned away from the ruins of Cynthia’s bungalow, hands thrust in his pockets, and made his way toward the street.
Shelby’s motorcycle was gone. She had left almost immediately to check on Cynthia and then head out to look for Drake. Jackie sat in the front seat of Belgerman’s car, parked behind the paramedic’s truck. She had refused to go to the hospital, even though the knot on the side of her head likely indicated a mild concussion. She should have been in the damn hospital. Against his better judgment, he approached and squatted down next to her, holding on to the open door for support.
“Not going to the hospital, are you, Agent Rutledge?”
She opened her eyes and lifted the cold pack from the side of her head. “Would you?”
Nick grimaced. “No, but that’s beside the point. You might have a concussion.”
“And a little eight-year-old girl might be dead by tomorrow if we don’t figure out what the fuck to do.”
The better part of him knew to just get up and walk away. There was no point arguing with her-stubborn to the bone, which likely accounted for her appeal in a frustrating-beyond-reason kind of way. She would keep going until she collapsed, and in her current condition would likely serve the case little good.
“You aren’t going to catch anyone at the moment, Jackie. You need rest. I’m surprised Belgerman hasn’t ordered you home.”
She stared at him for a moment, mouth working in furious silence. “You done being good samaritan now? Do you feel better that you’ve checked up on me? If you hadn’t been playing the fucking hero, I might have gotten out of there without getting waxed.”
“Hero?” He bit back the rest of his retort. No point fanning flames. She was hurt and pissed. “It was a bad situation in there, Jackie. It could have been a lot worse.”
“I’m not blind! Christ, I saw what was going on,” she snapped back but then sagged into the seat with a groan, putting the pack to her head. “What the fuck was going on in there?”
Nothing like a concussion to batter the bravado down. He just wanted to make sure she was going to take care of herself. She looked so small and fragile now, battered, bruised, and emotionally wrung out. If he had been Belgerman, there was no way he would have let her continue. Beyond the fact that the case was too dangerous, she had lost her partner. He had figured there was mandatory leave when events like that happened, unless of course Belgerman was letting it slide until the case was over. Nick would have to ask him about that. If she could be forced to sit the rest of this out, all the better.
“My guess is Drake sent someone to get Cynthia, and Laurel came to stop him.”
Jackie was quiet for so long, Nick thought she had fallen asleep. Finally, she said, “How? Why? I don’t get it.”
“Neither do I,” he said. “I’m going to the hospital after this to check on Cyn. Hopefully, she’ll be conscious and be able to shed some light on things.”
Jackie nodded. After a moment, a single tear trickled out of a closed, puffy eye, and Nick resisted the urge to reach out and wipe it away. “Laurel’s dead, and she’s still working the case.”
He had not even considered that line. So much for sending Jackie home. She would probably kill the person who tried. “It seems Laurel is trying to help us. I am, too, Jackie. I’ve been dealing with this kind of thing for a long time. If I tell you to keep back, it’s not to play hero-”
She sat up, eyes suddenly alive with indignation. “Are you running the FBI now, Nick? Did Belgerman die and make you boss?”
“Look, Jackie-”
“No! You look.” She threw the pack at him, and Nick stumbled back, catching the pack against his shoulder. “You’re just a fucking civilian PI. This is my case! You don’t give the orders around here, Sheriff.” The last came out with a nasty sneer in her voice. “You want to play hero, go… just go! Leave me the fuck alone.”
Nick stood up. It was time to bail before things got even uglier. “All right. When you’ve got things situated again, call me. I’ll be out looking for Drake.”
“Everything okay over here?” Belgerman walked up and stopped behind Nick, his face heavy with worry.
“It’s fine,” Nick said. “I was just leaving.”
Jackie reached out and yanked the car door closed. “Can we get the hell out of here?”
Belgerman cocked an eyebrow at Nick. “Sure. Things appear to be under control here. We need to get that head of yours looked at.”
Jackie looked incensed. “The paramedics already-”
“Looked at it and said you should go in to make sure you don’t have a concussion or cracked ribs or anything else. So just sit back and relax, Jack. I’m ordering you to have it looked at. Better?”
“Fucking-A. Fine!” She fumed in silence as the window went up.
Belgerman gave her a sarcastic little smile and laid a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Call Gamble and check in with him to see what’s going on, if he needs your help with anything. You got his number?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“Was this Drake’s handiwork, Mr. Anderson?” he wondered, waving his arm at the house.
“Looks that way.”
“Okay, I think we need to have a little more informative briefing from you on things. Like this afternoon.”
Nick agreed. “Tell me when. I’ll be there.”
“Good. I’ll let you know by noon.”
Belgerman walked around and opened up the car’s door. “Hey, you got a ride back?”
“I can bring Agent Rutledge’s vehicle in.” He hoped that was all right. He had no other transportation available.
“Just take it to your place and lock it up. We’ll send someone out later to pick it up.”
“Will do. Thanks.”
Jackie was shaking her head, muttering something under her breath, and Nick was glad the window was up so he didn’t have to hear. He felt bad for her, and the guilt ate at his insides. He had tried to keep them out of this, tried to keep her away, but there was no denying a woman like Jackie Rutledge. She was like the hunting dog who had found itself in a losing battle with a bear, but once latched on to it, she was not going to let go until either she or the bear was dead.
Nick shook his head and headed for the Durango. The bear was winning.