Grissom (In the Company of Snipers #26)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It was hard dialing 911 with his hands full and his heart breaking, at what Grissom had let happen to his boys—in their house! Luke had gone stock still in his arms. He was so pale. Whatever Pam gave him was killing him. Alex had her face down on the floor, his knee in her back and her hands cuffed behind her. But the shrew was still breathing and cursing and—!

That was more than what Luke was doing. Damn her!

Maverick hadn’t called about that damned black sedan, either.

“Central dispatch, what is your emergency?”

“My son’s been poisoned! Send help!” Send everyone!

Instead of continuing to rant like a maniac at the end of his rope, Grissom calmed himself enough to relay his address, phone number, and Luke’s symptoms. He answered every question the polite woman asked. Luke’s age, weight, if he had any allergies, if he knew what his son swallowed. How he got hold of the poison. “I have no idea what he swallowed! I wasn’t here. His fucking mother gave him—hell, I don’t even know what she—!”

“Candy, Dad,” Tanner interrupted, his sweet face masked by tears and sweat. “She gave Luke that bag of gummies over there, and she told him not to share with—”

“Gummies?” Grissom barked. Could it be? Had that lousy excuse of a mother—of a woman!—of a gawddamned human being!—given Luke THC-laced edibles? Jesus!

Tanner pulled out of his father’s arm and pried the plastic sandwich bag out of his little brother’s rigid fingers. “These icky things, Dad. Mom gave him all these and told him he was a good boy and not to share with me cuz I was a worthless bastard.”

Grissom had no more than passed that horrific intel to the operator when Eric Reynolds charged into the chaos and gently lifted Luke out of his hands. Stuffing his phone into his rear pocket, Grissom pulled poor Tanner back against his chest, praying for his baby boy. That there, at what felt like the end of his world, with Tanner tucked in his arms, God would be merciful and kind. That He’d be what Grissom had failed at being—a perfect father.

“She poisoned him. She poisoned my boy.” Tears fell and Grissom didn’t care. He never should’ve left his sons alone. This was his fault. All of it.

Calmly, Eric laid Luke on his back on the floor, then adeptly snapped on a pair of surgical gloves. Tilting Luke’s head back, he inserted an index finger into Luke’s mouth and scraped out a congealed mass of half-chewed red and yellow gummies, along with a puddle of drool. “Could be,” he replied noncommittally. “Legalizing pot hasn’t made stupid parents any smarter.”

Pressing the business ends of the stethoscope around his neck to Luke’s tiny chest, Eric cocked his head and listened intently. “I’d give this little guy a dose of Ipecac if I knew for sure what he ingested. That was the paramedics you were talking to, right?”

“Yes,” Grissom confirmed.

A shrill siren screamed nearby. What a fucked-up Christmas. He scanned the room and his back deck, searching for the sweet comfort and calm only Tuesday could give. But he didn’t see her. She was probably in the kitchen, grabbing bottled waters for everyone, or doing something just as thoughtful. Tuesday took care of folks. She stepped up when others didn’t. But not having her by his side or anywhere in sight wasn’t like her. “You seen Tuesday, Boss?” Because I can’t find her and I need her. She should be here, damn it. With me.

Alex still crouched alongside Pam. He’d secured her pistol, a pair of leather garden gloves, and was emptying her pockets. That sight was enough distraction for Grissom to ask, “You find a receipt for the shit she gave my boy? What the fuck is it?!”

Alex shook his head. “Not yet. Give me a second. And no, I haven’t seen Tuesday, but she was just here. She can’t have gone far.”

A receipt for the crap in Luke’s system would be helpful, but Grissom knew a piece of paper wouldn’t save his tiny son’s life. This time, Pam had gone too far. But where’s Tuesday? She should be here hugging Tanner. Hell, hugging me. I need her. We all need her!

Four emergency responders hustled through the open front door, two medics and two firemen. Howie, the local sheriff, followed. He went straight to where Alex crouched over Pam, while the medics took control of Luke. Grissom sat there in everyone’s way, his arms around his oldest son, watching what could be the end of his and Tanner’s world.

If Luke died…

No! Not happening! It can’t! I won’t let it!

His youngest boy’s life flashed through his mind. The day Luke was born. Grissom had been there, trying like hell to be a good husband to the deceitful woman who’d brazenly cheated on him. He’d always known Luke wasn’t his biological son, sure. Wasn’t hard to do the math, not considering he’d been out of the country the ten months before Luke’s birth.

Yet never had Grissom felt anything but love for the little redhead. It wasn’t Luke’s fault his mother was a tramp. Biology be damned. When the nurse handed that perfect, wet, little baby into Grissom’s trembling hands—the kid was only seconds old—the purest, unadulterated love had washed over him like an out-of-control grassfire. It had sparked a surge of fatherly endorphins or hormones or—whatever. That was the second time Grissom understood how fierce fatherhood could be. And how damned rare.

He hadn’t been there to experience that sense of wonder when Tanner was born. No, he’d been denied the priceless gift of holding his firstborn son, fresh out of his mother’s body, on Tanner’s first day of life. And now that same innocent boy might be witnessing his baby brother’s death. Hell, they both might be watching Luke die.

Jesus! Help me save Luke, damn it! Help everyone!

Hopelessness stormed over Grissom again. Where is Tuesday? She’d know what to do and say. She was smart like that. Maybe she’d hustle Tanner out of the room and into a safer, quieter place where panic didn’t steal every last breath from a guy. Where there was still hope. Where prayers were still answered.

“Ready to transport,” one of the medics reported into the radio clipped on his shoulder. Luke was on oxygen and an IV by then. “One, two, and three,” the medic said, as the scissor-lift beneath the gurney holding Grissom’s tiniest boy prepared to take his baby away.

Like hell.

Grissom looked one last time for Tuesday. He needed her. Tanner and Luke needed her. Where was she? Was she hurt? Had Pam shot her? God, no. A weapon had been discharged, but after that, everything happened so fast, he couldn’t be sure. It couldn’t have struck Tuesday, not as quickly as she’d shoved him out of her way and attacked Pam with that damned fine karate chop to the neck. That head-butt of hers was another phenomenal offensive tactic. Good on Tuesday. He’d lost track of her when he’d dived into the fray to take the hit he thought Pam had intended for Tanner. By then, Grissom had been running on pure adrenaline. Even now, a sneaky panic attack was creeping up the back of his neck, making all those tiny hairs stand on end.

He looked up into Maverick’s rugged face. Why was Cowboy here? Damn. His house was overflowing with TEAM agents, men and women he hadn’t seen come in, all dressed in black denims and TEAM polos, as if this were just another mission and not Christmas Day. He’d been so focused, so lost in the what-ifs of a father losing his child and the woman he loved deserting him in his time of need, that—

“I can’t find Tuesday,” he told the powerful male hunkered down at his side, instantly forgiving Maverick for not calling about the sedan. “I’m going with Luke. Take care of him until I get back. I mean Tanner. Take care of Tanner for me,” he clarified, transferring his oldest into Maverick’s beefy arms.

“You bet. Anything you need, brother,” Maverick answered, as a tearful Tanner latched onto his favorite cowboy’s neck.

Leave it to Maverick to use that word. Brother. It meant so damned much to the unwanted son Grissom had always been. A brother at his side growing up would’ve been damned nice. But now? Maverick had just thrown Grissom the lifeline he hadn’t realized he needed.

“But Dad, I want to stay with you,” Tanner whispered, even as he settled onto Maverick’s knee.

“I know, Scooter, but there won’t be enough room in the ambulance, and…” I’ve got to go.

Grissom damned near burst into tears at the decision he was making, to leave Tanner and Tuesday behind. “You gotta find her for me, Maverick. Find Tuesday. I don’t know where she went. She was right here, but then, she was gone, just gone…” His voice trailed away as his gaze scrolled over the hectic scene in his house one last time, searching for signs of blood. The only blood he saw was still gushing out of Pam’s ugly, whiny face, and…

Damn it! Now Tanner would have questions. He’d think his dad lied when Grissom said his mother would never hurt him again, that she was gone for good. Why the fuck was Pam even here? How could she be in his house? Why wasn’t she dead? How the hell was she still alive?

Grissom’s jaw cracked as it shifted to one side in his big dumb head. If Pam hadn’t been in Estes’ plane when it went down, then who was? Some woman who looked like her? Was this one of Pam’s elaborate schemes to destroy everyone Grissom held dear? How had that she-devil even tracked him down? Shit!

“She might be outside, Dad. It was kinda noisy in here, and I think she has a headache,” Tanner offered quietly.

“Who?”

“Miss Tuesday.” Tanner frowned. He didn’t understand how frazzled his father was, now, when Grissom needed to man up and be everything to everyone, to be everywhere at once. Now, when panic was storming the fragile hold he had on his control. To stay or go, the eternal dilemma of every service man or woman with orders to deploy. To leave behind the people he loved most. To have to choose between them and all that was good in the world. To fight the evil that threatened everything, damn it. This couldn’t be happening again, not on Christmas Day.

Tanner tipped forward and pressed his sweaty hand to Grissom’s cheek. “Dad, I’m a big boy now, and me and Maverick’ll go find Miss Tuesday for you. Don’t worry. We got your six.”

Grissom grabbed his six-year-old boy into a tight hug at the manly words of comfort pouring out of him.

“Yeah, Grissom,” Maverick added. “Go with Luke and let us guys locate Miss Smart. The medics are waiting. I’ll stay in touch.”

“Thank you.” Tousling Tanner’s head one last time, Grissom ran for the door, knowing Tanner would be okay and praying with all his heart that Luke would be, too. Hoping Tuesday hadn’t left him. She wouldn’t do that to his boys, would she? To him?

Grissom looked back one last time, not sure he was making the right decision. Never sure that he ever had. Lord help me. Do I stay or do I go?