Page 5 of Grissom
Jerking the unlocked door to the head nearly off its hinges, he charged back into his room, stark naked, and found Murphy there, along with some guy in gray scrubs. Must be the doctor, judging by the disapproval wrinkling his forehead and the way he held his hands on his hips, like he thought he was important.
“Mr. McCoy?”
The guy’s voice sounded familiar. Grissom had the faintest notion he’d met him before. “I’m Grissom McCoy. What do you want?”
“A word with you if I may—”
“No, you may not. I’ve got work to do, and if you think you’re gonna stop me—”
“I’m not, but I’d like to send you out of here with a bottle of—”
“I don’t do drugs!”
“These are only to relieve anxiety. They’ll help you focus and—”
“My focus is fine. I’m outta here and—”
“Your focus is shot to hell, Gris,” Murphy interjected quietly, but with enough authority to shut Grissom down. “And you know it. Else you’d remember the brawl in that bar andpunching the officer who tried to arrest you. You’d remember taking off on your bike and crashing into the rear end of that FedEx truck, which is why you ended up in here. And you’d remember to wear pants!”
‘Traitor!’the nasty voice inside Grissom’s head screamed, at the same time another calmer voice whispered,‘Murphy’s only ever been on your side. He’s not lying. Trust him.’
Murphy tossed him a pair of gray sweat pants. Grissom obliged and covered up. He swallowed hard, wishing his mind would engage all the way, damn it, instead of throwing opposing arguments that felt like grenades at him. Wishing he could remember, while striving not to look as weak and confused as he felt.
Doc Whoever-He-Was held out a small, green plastic bottle, the kind with a white child-proof cap and arrows that told you which way to turn, which way was up, and which way was down, and…Shit.Accepting help went against everything Grissom was and knew to be true. Men didn’t show weakness, damn it. They bucked up and carried on, and they—
Doc rattled the pills in that bottle, not impatiently, more like he was tempting Grissom.
“You don’t take them, you won’t be released,” Murphy said, “and I’ll make damned sure you take them if you’re going with me.”
Grissom snorted. “You’re going with me.”
Murphy shook his head. “No, Gris.You” —he pointed at Grissom’s chest— “are going withme” —he stuck a thumb at his own chest— “and that’s the only way this is going to work. You followmyrules, and we’ll find your boys and bring them home.”
A thousand questions whirred like an egg-beater gone wild inside Grissom’s head.What if we can’t find them? What if they’re hurt? What if their bitch of a mother sold them? Howwill I ever get them back then? What if I never find them? How can I live without them?!
What started as a string of logical questions morphed quickly into panic-laden shrieks that bounced inside his skull. Until Murphy landed a solid smack on his shoulder. The sting and warmth of that old man’s hand got through and… Grissom forced the frenzied panic back with a hard-earned swallow. It took everything he had to whisper, “Fine.”
“I want it clear that I’m releasing you against medical advice, Mr. McCoy,” Doc said. “Your friend here has already made several counseling appointments for you, and he promised you’ll keep them. Will you?”
Grissom finally met Doc’s gaze. The tag on his shirt saidDoctor Windhall. He had bright, brown eyes. Caring eyes. Not cold, but warm brown eyes. Tanner’s eyes were warm and brown and alive, just like Doc Windhall’s. Maybe those pills in that bottle would keep him calm enough to once again be a good operator.
He took the bottle. “I promise,” he told the man. “After my boys are home and I’m sure they’re okay, then…” He sucked in a breath, needing a minute before he revealed that he might just need someone else’s help after all. “Okay, yeah. I’ll come see you.”
The guy’s chest heaved as if he’d been holding his breath. “Thank you, Grissom. Ms. Ashlee Peyton is our family counselor, and I know she’ll love working with you and your boys. I imagine they’ll need a little help when they get back home, don’t you think?”
He extended his other hand, his right hand, and automatically, Grissom took it. Because that was what men did. Their word was their bond and a handshake sealed the deal. “You might be right. Yeah, sure.”
“I look forward to working with you,” Doc said. “I’m here for you and for your boys. All you have to do is call.”
Grissom nodded. Yeah, sure. He’d come see this guy again, but only after Tanner and Luke were back where they belonged. At home. With him.
Chapter Three
The flight to Costa Rica was long and tiresome, typical when flying AF transport. Grissom and his team were last-minute hitchhikers, traveling on Uncle Sam’s dime. The C-130J-30 Mother snagged their passage on, was the stretch version. A recent modification added 15 feet to its fuselage, increasing the bird’s usable space. Most of that usable space was currently occupied by four dozen active-duty US Army and Air Force members, three helicopters, a shit load of palletized disaster and first-aid supplies, bottled water, and other rescue and medical equipment. All were deploying to southern Costa Rica’s Peninsula de Osa, in response to extreme flooding and mudslides. While that unexpected disaster spiked Grissom’s anxiety into the red zone, Murphy insisted Luke and Tanner weren’t anywhere near there.
Grissom now knew Pam and Estes had gone down with his plane in the Pacific, twenty-some miles off the coast of Samara, a small village on the northwest coast, known for its palm-lined beach. Both were assumed dead, as well as the four tourists flying with them. According to the latest intel from Agents Shane Hayes and Beckam Garner, Luke and Tanner weren’t in Samara, nor were they in any of the villages along the coast. All that astute intel did for Grissom was eliminate one possible location out of thousands. Not good enough.
The further south the AF bird flew, the more stifling the air inside the noisy transport became, and the shorter Grissom’s temper. By the time they touched down in Puntarenas, he was half out of his mind. The aft loading ramp had no more than cracked far enough open to let in a rush of humidity when he wason the tarmac and antsy as hell. His boys needed him. He didn’t have time to waste. It seemed like hours before Murphy, Taylor, Cord, and Walker joined him. Where the hell was their ride out of here?
