Taken Hostage

The officer glanced at Colby. “And you are?”

“Colby Waterson.”

And in that instant Regan knew she didn’t want to be separated from the one man who’d already proved he’d risk his life to protect hers.

TWO (#u20509d6e-778b-550c-85d8-a4af69833862)

Colby cinched the gray wool blanket the police officer had brought around Regan and then placed his hands on her shoulders to steady her tremors. “You’re okay. They’re gone. I’m not leaving you.”

She looked at him with grateful eyes, and he paused a moment to try to ascertain their exact color. Gray? Green? Right now as dark and brooding as the clouds that had released their payload of rain.

One of the responding officers handed Colby a basic first-aid kit. He popped open the tab and grabbed a package with a large square of gauze, removed it and pressed it gently to her cut. The rain mixed with blood and trickled down her face, making her injury appear more severe than it was. She winced at the pressure and covered his hand with hers in response.

“Sorry,” Colby said.

She shook her head. “I don’t know what to say. ‘Thank you’ seems hardly adequate.” Her teeth chattered, and Colby sent a dismayed look to the police officer.

“Any chance we could get her out of the rain?” he asked, his tone edgier than he wanted it to be.

Not only was she trembling from fear but the withdrawal of adrenaline from her system exacerbated her unsteadiness. Add that to the cacophony of voices around her and he was surprised she hadn’t shut down completely.

The black GMC had vacated the scene, and Colby gathered from police communications that no one had spotted it. Two paramedics carrying orange trauma packs weaved their way at a jog toward their position.

“Ma’am, can you describe to me what happened?” Officer Johnson asked.

A paramedic kneeled next to her. “Hi, I’m Leonard. What hurts?”

Johnson’s partner asked, “Did you get a look at the driver of the other vehicle?”

Colby’s chest ached and he could feel his blood just about to boil. He stood and motioned everyone back. “Give her some space,” he ordered. “This is what we’re going to do.” He turned to Johnson. Thunder boomed, and Regan huddled farther into the blanket. “First, out of this rain before it starts to pick back up again. Then, medical gets to take a look at her.” He pointed his finger at the officer. “Then a witness statement. Are we clear?”

All nodded, though Johnson narrowed his gaze in a who-does-he-think-he-is glare, but they looked in agreement enough to comply with his demands.

Colby held his hand out to Regan, and she took it willingly but stood too fast. Colby stabilized her with a quick arm around her waist before she fell back down. Regan gripped his arm tightly until her trembling eased. She stood straighter and gave him a gentle smile. Threads of her red hair stuck to the wound on her forehead, and he took his finger and gently eased them away.

He kept his arm around her waist until she was safely sitting in the back of an ambulance, on a gurney. Leonard took the blanket off her shoulders, pushing up Regan’s sleeve to take her blood pressure.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Shaky,” Regan responded, her voice clearer, in control.

Johnson stepped into the back of the ambulance and Colby traded places with him so he could get close. The officer would be able to get some of the information he needed just from listening to the paramedic’s interview.

“Is it all right with you if the officer is here?” Leonard asked.

Regan glanced at her watch. “Whatever speeds this up. I do have patients to see at the hospital. I’m late.”

Colby checked the time, as well. Had it been twenty minutes since this thing unfolded? It seemed like just a few had passed. “I’ll call the hospital and tell them you’re going to be delayed. Be right back.”

He stepped down from the rear of the ambulance and walked back to the scene of the crash. Something was going on here—something bad that involved this doctor. His gut was tossing up so many red flags that all he could see was red. The maneuver to push her off the road, in the middle of rush-hour traffic no less, cried of either desperation or determination. Both of which could have proved deadly. He found his cell phone among the shattered glass of his windshield on the floor of his passenger seat and dialed his mother.

“Colby? Are you all right? Where are you?”

Not even a hello. Ever since Sam’s cancer, his mother had been a prickly ball of hypersensitive worries, as if at any moment she knew the other shoe was going to drop. Actually, he had himself to blame. His military career had precipitously aged her even before Sam’s diagnosis.

Even though his mother was strong in her faith, she seemingly didn’t get a dose of the whole “not worrying” thing when God had made her. Maybe worry was an inherited gene as Colby struggled to let God control things, as well.

“I’m fine.”

“As in uninjured?” she pressed.

“Yes, not injured, but I’ve been involved in a little dustup on the highway driving in for Sam’s meeting.”

“Sam’s still in the ICU. These seizures just won’t relent. Her doctor’s not here yet.”

“I know. I’m with her,” Colby said.

“With Dr. Lockhart?”

“Yes...it’s hard to explain. We were involved in...an accident.”

“You hit her? Is she all right? Is she alive?”

The shrill tone of his mother’s voice caused him to ease the phone away from his ear. “Mom—”

“Colby, I’d never forgive you. We’ve been waiting to hear her final decision for weeks.”

He got it. He’d never forgive himself if he’d been the one to take away Sam’s only hope at living a full life.

“Mom, Sam’s doctor is fine, but it’s going to be a few hours before we can be at the hospital.”

“You’re staying with her?” his mother asked, her voice maintaining the same high pitch.

“It’s complicated. I’m going to make sure she gets to the hospital okay. Will you tell Sam’s nurse, so she can tell whoever else needs to know, that Dr. Lockhart is going to be delayed?”

Colby neared Regan’s SUV.

“She can’t call herself?”

Colby reached across the driver’s seat and found Regan’s purse, its contents strewed across the passenger’s floor mat. “She doesn’t have her phone at the moment. Please, Mom? I need to go.”

“All right. Be safe.”

Her classic sign-off. It was her habit never to say goodbye. Too much finality, he guessed. She’d once told him she’d only say it if she was sure he was never coming back. Maybe that was what military life did to families. Another reason why she rarely said, “I love you.” Even though she did fiercely.

His next call was to his associate, Daniel Green.

“Aren’t you at the hospital?”