CHAPTER FORTY

Theo had made one more detour before he drove to the hospital. He stopped at a Pak Mail store, made copies of the papers Rosa had given him, and then, using the store phone, he called his superior in Boston and told him what had happened. As he was talking to him, he had one of the store's employees fax the papers to his boss.

Then he called the local FBI branch, got their fax number, and sent copies to their office as well. And because he was tired and feeling a little paranoid, he faxed a set to his home.

By the time he reached the outskirts of St. Claire, the signal on his cell phone was fading. The battery was almost out of juice. He wanted to call Ben and ask him to meet him at the hospital so he could give him copies too, his intent to include the chief in the investigation. Theo decided he would have to wait and call him from the hospital. While he waited at a stoplight, he stacked the papers and put them into the glove compartment.

Now that he felt he had covered all the bases-his boss was going to fax a copy to a friend at the IRS— Theo once again went over the conversation he'd had with Rosa Vincetti. The poor woman was terrified of the police, and based on her past experience, he certainly didn't blame her. They had broken down her door in the middle of the night and, with their guns drawn, had rushed through her home, dragged her son out of his bed, handcuffed him, and taken him away. Ever since that night, Rosa had been living in terror that it would happen again.

"Did Catherine know about your fear of the police?" he'd asked.

"Yes, she did," she'd answered. "I told her everything. We were very close, like sisters. She depended on me."

Then, as Theo was leaving, Rosa told him she kept expecting to read about John's arrest in the papers because Catherine had

told her that the copies she'd made of her husband's secret files would put him in prison for the rest of his life.

"What were you supposed to do with your copies?" he asked.

"I don't know. She told me to keep them in a safe place. I've been praying… and waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

"God to tell me what to do," she answered.

After assuring her that the papers were safe with him, he'd thanked her and left.

He was just a couple of blocks away from the hospital when he glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard. Nine-fifteen. Time flies when you're having fun, he thought. No wonder his stomach was growling, and he was yawning every other minute. He hadn't had anything to eat or drink all day. He needed food and caffeine. Maybe after he checked on Michelle and talked to Noah, he could grab something in the hospital cafeteria.

He drove along the hospital drive, noticed there weren't any cars under the canopy outside the emergency entrance, pulled up just beyond the No Parking sign, and parked the car in the slanted slots reserved for police.

A male nurse was coming out of the entrance as Theo was going in. "Hey, buddy, you can't park your car there. You'll get ticketed."

"FBI vehicle," Theo called back.

"Damn," John muttered when he saw Buchanan park his car next to the building and go inside.

Dallas opened the car door. "Call Preston and Monk. Have them meet me in the stairwell, north side. I want to synchronize this just in case Buchanan gives me trouble."

As Dallas slammed the door and took off running, John made the call. After he disconnected, he reached into the backseat and pulled his laptop into the front. Then he opened the glove compartment, got out the other set of keys he'd requested when he'd rented the car, and put the car key in the ignition.

Dallas was only just now beginning to distrust him. John smiled as he thought about that. All of them— even cynical, burned-out Cameron-for all their illegal wheeling and dealing, were naive when it came to understanding John's capabilities. They actually believed that he couldn't get the money without them. What was even more amusing to him was the fact that his worker bees thought he would share the fortune. Ah, trust. What a wonderful weapon.

He leaned back and waited. It was a beautiful sultry night. Maybe it all would work out and he wouldn't have to go to his contingency plan. Preston was acting like a hothead now, though. John was pretty sure Preston wouldn't be able to stop himself from shooting someone. It would go bad then. Maybe all of them would die.

Wouldn't that be a stroke of luck.

Theo was going to take the stairs to the second floor, but as he was crossing the hallway to get to the stairwell door, Elliott Waterson shouted at him.

"Coach? My parents are upstairs."

The teenager was standing inside the elevator, holding the door open. He obviously thought that Theo had come to sit with Cherry and Daryl while John Patrick was in surgery.

Theo joined him. "How are you holding up, Elliott?"

The teenager began to cry. He looked like he'd been through a war. His eyes were swollen, his nose was red, and there was a

sad and haunted look about him.

His head bowed, he whispered, "Did you hear what I did to my little brother?" He began to sob then. "I hurt him, Coach. I hurt

him bad."

"I'm sure it was an accident, Elliott."

Theo knew that Michelle had rushed to the hospital and that the patient was John Patrick, the little boy who wanted him to shoot Lois, but when Michelle's brother had called, he hadn't given any details about the extent of the injury or how it had happened.

Still, Theo knew Elliott would never intentionally hurt his brother. Elliott was a decent kid and came from a loving, close-knit family.

"I know you didn't mean to hurt John Patrick."

"But it's my fault and now he's gonna die."

Elliott nearly knocked Theo over when he threw himself against him. He was sobbing uncontrollably now, his face buried in Theo's shoulder. Elliott was a big, strapping boy who outweighed Theo by at least thirty pounds, but he was still a kid who needed to be comforted.

"Let's go find your mother," Theo suggested.

Barely coherent, Elliott stammered, "I never should have… I didn't mean to…"

Theo's heart ached for him. He put his arm around him and patted. "It's going to be okay." It wasn't a promise; it was a prayer. "You've got to have hope, Elliott."

He realized then that the elevator wasn't moving. He stretched his other arm around the teenager so he could reach the button.

"Tell me what happened."

"Mom told me not to get him the dartboard. She said he was too little and he could cut himself on those sharp darts, but John Patrick really wanted it for his birthday present, so I got it for him anyway. Mom was really mad at me," he stammered. "I should have taken it back… but I didn't. I hung the board with some rope off the big tree in the front yard. I put it down low so John Patrick could use it, and when it started to get dark and he got tired of playing with it and climbed up in the tree like he likes to do, I picked up the darts and I started throwing them. I got back real far, and I was really hurling them."

Theo winced. He knew what was coming. Elliott was too distraught to go on. The elevator doors opened, and Theo pulled him along as he stepped out.

Noah was leaning against the wall feeing the elevators. When he saw Elliott with Theo, he immediately went down the hall to get the boy's parents.

"John Patrick jumped down out of the tree just as I hurled a dart," Elliott sobbed. "I got him in the chest, maybe his heart… I don't know, but he didn't cry. He just looked so surprised. I was screaming 'no' and running to him 'cause I knew what he was going to do. He tried to pull the dart out… but it didn't come out… just the fuzzy end… and he closed his eyes and went down on the ground. He… just… crumbled. I thought he was dead. Daddy saw it happen too. He had just gotten out of the van and was going up the steps. John Patrick's gonna die, isn't he, Coach? I know he is."