Page 74 of Ace
‘What about you? How are you feeling? You need to be tested, too.’
‘Yes, sir, Keller’s attending physician did draw my blood. I’m quarantined with Keller, but I’m not sick. The entire hospital’s prepared to react quickly if anyone so much as sneezes.’
‘Good,’Tucker said before he turned back to Collins. “I want your director’s name and number.”
“Sure thing, Director Chase.” Collins never batted an eye as he handed over a business card. “I answer to Director Carl Simmons, sir. He’s a former SEAL. Like you.”
By then, Savannah couldn’t help but smile. Brinkman had turned gray. She’d stopped rolling her eyes and huffing like a spoiled teenager.
Tucker stabbed the business card into his rear pocket, then snarled at Brinkman. “Get the hell out of my way.”
She stepped aside, but her deference to a Bureau director had come too late. Tucker hadn’t risen to where he was because of political aspirations. He’d earned his title through more blood, sweat, and tears than she’d ever know. Now he meant to ruin her, and he could do it. Savannah just wanted to be there when he did.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
A soft knock at Keller’s door roused Savannah from a worrisome dream of Gran Mere racing after horned warlocks through a hundred thousand rose bushes, all decked with blood-red blossoms. After Tucker’s altercation with Collins and Brinkman, she’d fallen asleep in the chair at Keller’s bedside, her arm stretched alongside his body, her hand on top of his on his chest. But her arm had fallen asleep. It tingled when she peeled her cheek off her bicep.
Her doctor had notified her that her tests came back clear. She didn’t have the virus that had nearly killed Keller. He wasn’t contagious anymore, either.
“Come in,” she called out quietly, swiping her other hand over her mouth to banish any drool along with the dream. Man, she’d been out of it. She sat back in the chair as the door opened.
Tate Higgins filled the entrance like a linebacker. Wearing what she now recognized as typical FBI uniform, namely black everything, he came in and closed the door quietly behind him. From his boots to his head, the shaggy-haired man was a mountain of squared-off angles. Thick, black brows shadowed intense brown eyes that shifted from Keller, the ventilator tubes and mask taped to his face, the machines helping him breathe, then back to Savannah, sizing her up, assessing, and deciding. His tanned face sported a trim beard and mustache. He’d pushed his dark glasses under his chin like a strap instead of on top his head. His neck was clean-shaven but his black shirt was too tight over his chest.
He doffed the black ball cap with FBI stenciled in bright gold caps above the brim and said, “Don’t get up. I can’t stay long. Nurse said to make it quick. I’m Tate Higgins, and you’re Savannah Church, Keller’s girl.”
By then, she was on her feet. “Yes, I’m Savannah,” she admitted that much. “Eden thinks a great deal of you.”
“Yeah, well, that’s her problem. Eden likes everybody. How’s my boy?”
“Better today. He’s no longer contagious, and his doctors started him on an experimental antibiotic early this morning.”
Tate went to the other side of the bed, worrying the cap in his hands. “Seem like it’s working?”
“It’s too early to tell,” she said as a yawn got away from her, “but he is resting more comfortably. Lastnight he seemed anxious, but that may be because of the ventilator.”
“But he’s still unreachable?” Tate tapped his temple. “Up here?”
Savannah made eye contact with Agent Higgins. “Yes and no. I keep a thread cast out in the universe feeling for him, but the drugs they’ve got him on must be too strong. He’s not answering, but he’s still alive.”
“Keller’s stubborn. Don’t worry, he’ll come around when he’s ready.”
Which told Savannah that Keller was fighting his own internal battles. He wasn’t ready.
Tate nodded at the chair behind her. “Sure wish you’d sit down, ma’am. You’re tired. Try to rest while you can.”
“I am tired,” she murmured, sinking into the chair. But sleep wasn’t her friend right now. She was afraid of it, afraid of those dreams and that Keller would leave forever if she relaxed too much. If she let him go.
Tate cocked his head. “You use threads? Like spiders? You build webs?”
“More like fishing line. I’m not a spider, I’m fly fishing. I cast threads into the universe, hoping for an answering vibration.”
Tate’s brows leaned into each other as if he were considering what she’d said. “What kind of vibration?”
Savannah shrugged. “A sigh. A cry. A whisper.”
“What do you use for bait?”
That made her smile. “It’s not like I’m trying to hook anyone, Agent Higgins. And I don’t use bait, I use prayers.”
