High Intensity (High Mountain Trackers HMT 2G #2)

Chapter 23

Twenty-Three

Jillian

Eleven hours earlier

“What do you mean she hasn’t been eating?”

The man introduced to me as Agent Williams, an FBI EMT who apparently had taken over the care for Hayley, looks sheepish.

“Are you kidding? She’s been in your care since last week; are you telling me she hasn’t had anything since then?”

I’m pissed. Beyond angry they would let this carry on for so long.

“According to Dr. Chahal, she’d been eating at the hospital, but since we moved her to the safe house on Wednesday, she barely even picks at her food, no matter what we put in front of her.”

“And you didn’t think perhaps to move her back to the hospital?”

“We contacted Dr. Chahal; it was her suggestion to get in touch with you. Apparently, you built up a rapport with the girl.”

“Her name is Hayley,” I snap, upset these people seem to care so little. “And clearly she should’ve been returned to proper medical care.”

This time it’s Bellinger who answers.

“We didn’t feel it was safe at the time, we were able to apprehend a nurse who appeared to be the leak at the hospital, but can’t be sure she was the only hospital employee on the Ovando family payroll. And now the girl’s uncle is scheduled to pick her up tomorrow, and we haven’t been able to interview the girl. She still isn’t talking.”

I narrow my eyes at him.

“You sound more concerned about getting information from her before her uncle takes custody of her, than you are about the fact she hasn’t eaten a proper meal in almost a week?”

Agent Williams is clearly uncomfortable with my accusations, but Bellinger’s expression doesn’t waver. The man exudes arrogance and clearly feels entirely justified.

Suddenly the picture becomes clear.

“You want me to help get her talking and are only using the fact she’s not eating to get my attention, aren’t you?”

He shrugs. “This is still a very active investigation, the girl is a potential witness, and you are the only one she’s spoken to, from what I understand. I’m only doing my job.”

Only doing my job , my ass.

As much as I want to slam the door in his face, I can’t turn my back on a starving young girl who is traumatized, scared, and alone, when I may be able to help her. With a little help from Nugget, of course.

“Where is she?”

I curb the urge to swipe that smug grin off Bellinger’s face.

“We’ll drive you there.”

I plant my hands on my hips. “I don’t think so. I can drive myself.”

I’m getting the feeling everything with this man is a power struggle, as he tries to stare me down. Not sure what he thinks he’ll achieve by doing that, since it only makes me dig my heels in.

“I can’t simply give out the location of our safe house,” he finally sputters.

I bark out a laugh at that.

“Are you serious right now? Unless you propose I communicate with Hayley telepathically, I have to know where she is.”

“She’s got a point,” Williams, who has stayed quiet and in the background for most of this exchange, volunteers.

It earns him a dirty look from his colleague.

“Besides,” I add. “I need to know whether I’m going to be two hours from home or five minutes so I can make appropriate arrangements for my animals.”

“Fine. It’s in town. You can follow us,” Bellinger concedes, already walking down the porch steps.

“I just need a few minutes to get ready,” I call after him.

“Williams, you drive with her. I don’t have the time to wait,” he orders without even turning around.

As Bellinger drives off, I invite Williams inside to wait while I feed the dogs, clean up, and pack a few things in my backpack. The dogs give him a good sniff down, but to his credit he tolerates their, at times, invasive scrutiny.

“Do you have dogs?” I ask on a hunch as we walk to my SUV.

“I do. Well, technically my wife does. They came as a package deal,” he explains, a faint smile on his face. “Gibson is a twelve-year old chocolate Lab and spoiled rotten.”

I instantly revise my initial impression of the man to one a bit more favorable. After all, he clearly cares for his wife and the dog.

He directs me toward Libby, but I’m surprised when he tells me to turn left on Break Road, only a few miles north of my place. I can see why they picked this location; it’s the last house on a dead-end street and far from prying eyes.

The SUV Bellinger drove off in is parked outside, but when we enter the house there is no sign of him. A woman is getting up from the kitchen table when we walk in.

“Any luck?” Williams asks her.

The woman shakes her head. “Only a few sips of milk and one bite of toast. She went back up to her bedroom.”

“This is Ms. Lederman.”

“Jillian, please,” I correct him as I face the female agent.

She offers her hand and I take it.

“Stephanie Kramer,” she introduces herself. “I hope you have more luck with Hayley than we’ve had.”

I hope so too, but I’m afraid what little gains I had made with her in the hospital will need to be rebuilt, if that’s even possible. I can imagine Hayley might feel like I abandoned her and I may have to earn her trust again. That takes time. Time I may not have.

“I want to be realistic,” I caution her. “I understand from Agent Bellinger, her uncle is to pick her up sometime tomorrow. That’s not a lot of time for me to gain her trust, let alone get her to talk to me.”

“We’re trying to delay him as best we can under the guise of security, but Mr. Vallard is getting very impatient.”

She leads me up a set of stairs and stops outside a door, knocking softly.

“Hayley? There’s a visitor here for you.” Then she turns to me and whispers, “Good luck,” before heading back down the stairs.

I open the door a crack and see the girl lying on her side on the bed, her back to the door. My heart breaks for her; she must feel so alone.

“Hayley?” I alert her. “Can we come in? Nugget really wants to say hello.”

The moment I mention the dog’s name, Hayley turns her head and shoots up in bed.

“Nugget?”

I open the door farther so she can see the dog I’m carrying, but I have to steel myself when I get a good glance at Hayley. She looks gaunt, her beautiful copper-colored eyes dull and sunken, her skin pasty, and her hair looks greasy and stringy.

When I ease into the room, I notice she scoots with her back against the headboard and grabs one of the pillows, cradling it in front of her like a shield.

Everything in me wants to run up and gather this child up in my arms, but I don’t think she is ready for that. If she ever will be. Instead, I put Nugget down at the foot end of the bed and mentally cross my fingers he can work his magic again. I swallow hard when she lowers the pillow as he scoots up the bed toward her.

When I last saw her in the hospital, she’d still been confined to her bed hooked up to an IV and monitors. She’d been limited in her movements, but not so today. The pillow falls to the side as she scoops Nugget up in her arms. But I know I shouldn’t be cheering just yet when she throws an angry look my way.

Nugget may be forgiven, but I’m not.

I glance around the basic guest bedroom. There’s not a hint of personality in here, just a bed, a dresser, and a small desk holding a few old copies of Nancy Drew books and a pen and notepad, and I get angry all over again. No computer, or even a tablet, no pictures on the wall, nothing to make this a welcoming room for a young girl.

The only redeeming feature is the view. Her window faces the rear of the house and has a clear view of the Big Cherry Creek, and the mountains beyond.

“Oh wow. Your view is almost the same as the one from my house. Same creek too. My place is not that far from here.” I pull out the desk chair and take a seat facing her. “In fact, I was walking the dogs along the creek earlier this morning. If I’d known you were this close, I’d have walked a little farther. I could’ve waved at you, and you could’ve seen my other dogs.”

She doesn’t look at me—her face is buried in Nuggets shaggy coat—but I can tell she’s listening to every word.

“You see, I would’ve loved to have stayed in touch, but the FBI felt it was safer for you to be brought here and keep your location a secret. Even from me. I didn’t even know you were still in town, Hayley.”

When her eyes lift to mine, I’m afraid to breathe. It feels like the silence stretches forever, but it’s worth it when she asks me a question.

“How many dogs do you have?”

I have to swallow the lump in my throat before answering.

“Five, including Nugget. He’s the smallest of the bunch though.”

I go on to tell her their names, breeds, how I got them, and the kind of work they do, although I don’t mention Emo is a cadaver dog. That’s probably information she can do without. She seems to listen with interest, even occasionally asking a question.

I hesitate to ask her questions though, afraid it might either remind her of what she lost, or send her back into the silence I just lured her out of. However, I do really want to get her to eat, but I have to be careful how I approach that.

“I’m getting hungry,” I announce, rubbing a hand over my stomach. “It’s gotta be close to lunchtime.” I lean forward and lower my voice conspiratorially. “Do they have any decent food here?”

She shrugs. “I dunno.”

“Okay, well, if you keep an eye on Nugget for me, I’ll go see if I can scrounge something up for us.”

I get up and move to the door when I hear her behind me.

“You’re coming back, right?”

When I look over my shoulder, I catch a look of concern on her face.

“Of course I am. I’ll just be a few minutes.”

Bellinger has made an appearance and is in the kitchen with Agents Williams and Kramer. All three of them are looking at me expectantly.

“And?” Bellinger prompts. “Is she talking?”

“I’ve been here all of an hour. I’m not a magician,” I tell him. “My first concern is to regain her trust, and to get some food into her. What have you got?”

A few minutes later I head back upstairs with a tray holding a few Pop-Tarts, a banana, two small containers of yogurt, a piece of cheese for Nugget, and two bottles of water. Hayley’s eyes zoom in on the tray the moment I walk in. Instead of going back to the desk, I slide the tray in the middle of the bed and take a seat at the foot end.

“Unless you want that piece, Nugget happens to love cheese,” I tell her casually while I grab a spoon and start on one of the yogurts.

From the corner of my eye, I see her reaching for the cheese, breaking off a piece to feed my dog. I don’t let on I’m watching her every move, and pretend to be focused on eating. But it’s not until I rip open the package of Pop-Tarts, I see a reaction to the food when she furtively licks her lips. I fish one pastry out of the package and leave the rest on the tray. Then I take my Pop-Tart and walk over to the window, looking out at the view while keeping an eye on Hayley in the reflection.

“Did you know there’s a herd of elk that sometimes comes down to the creek?”

“Isn’t the creek frozen?” she asks from the bed.

“It is, but they seem to like to eat the fresh snow off the rocky shores. I guess that’s how they keep up their water intake in winter.”

With my back turned, I ramble on about other wildlife and tracks I’ve seen on my hikes along the creek, while I watch her lean forward toward the tray of food. I keep talking even when I see her hand tentatively reach for the second Pop-Tart I left in the package.

It’s hard not to get excited when I see her take her first bite, but I don’t want to make this a big deal. I feel it would likely backfire and we’d be back where we started. So, I’m not going to focus on it, and instead hop onto a different subject as I casually turn around.

“So do you like dogs?” I catch her with her mouth full, looking guilty, but I ignore it. “Because if you do, maybe next time I visit, I could bring Peanut along as well.”

“I like dogs,” she mumbles, her hand covering her mouth.

“Good. Peanut will love it. Word of warning though, she likes to cuddle as much as Nugget does, but she’s the size of a calf and partially blind, so at times a bit clumsy.”

“I’m used to big dogs,” she volunteers. “We used to have a Great Pyrenees. His name was Max, but he died last year.”

It’s like a switch is flipped. She claps a hand in front of her mouth as her face crumples, and her eyes well up. All of a sudden, the stubborn and resilient mask falls away, revealing the devastated and scared little girl underneath.

This time I don’t hesitate. I shove the tray out of the way and climb on the bed, pulling her rail-thin body into my arms.

“I’ve got you. Let it out, sweetheart, just hold on to me.”

Her sobs, quiet at first, turn into deep guttural wails, as the full force of her pain and trauma seem to be ripped from her innocent soul. All I can do is hold on as her body shakes and heaves with the violence of it all. During the worst of it, the door opens a crack, and Agent Kramer sticks her head in, alarm on her face. I give her a light shake of my head and she slowly closes the door again.

At some point, I manage to move us in the bed, so I’m a little more comfortable with my back resting against the headboard. Hayley is plastered to my side, her head against my chest, while Nugget presses up against her back, anchoring her.

I don’t really know this girl, but my heart is open, and will every ounce of love I have in me to surround her. It takes a while, but eventually the storm of grief wanes and is replaced by sniffles and occasional hiccups.

She never moves in my arms, and I’m not sure how long we sit like that. At some point I may even have dozed off, but then I notice—glancing at the window—the sun is sinking lower in the sky already. I have four dogs I need to get home to, but I hate leaving her here.

She’s asleep when I carefully ease myself out from under her. I set the tray on the nightstand so it’s right there for her, and write her a quick note.

Then I tuck her under the covers as best I can, lift Nugget under my arm, and stick my note under the corner of the tray, so it’s the first thing she sees.

Hey, Sweetheart, I had to run home to look after the dogs (I’m afraid their bladders are about to explode), but I PROMISE I will be back in the morning, and will bring Peanut too!

If you need me for any reason, my number is 406-554-3911.

See you in the morning.

xox Jillian

I take one last look and slip out the door.