Andrew’s team might have needed some work when it came to stopping the enemy, but they were good at running interference. They had a Guardian named Stella who was a wonderful liar, though most of what she said to the police and the hospital officials was actually true. She explained that they were a special government agency sent there to protect Gibbon and that they happened to pull up just as the assailants were fleeing the hospital. There were no longer fifteen LIGHTS members present, however, by the time the police had arrived, as that would have been too difficult to explain. Only Stella, Andrew, and Reggie had stayed behind to help police and assess the situation.
GeeGee had been rushed off to the Philadelphia Area headquarters, and their resident Healer had begun to work on her leg. There was no open wound, since the bullet had bounced, but GeeGee was young and had been more frightened than anything else. Though Scarlet was no Jamie, she was able to put GeeGee under so she was no longer in pain. The Hunter who had shot her, Malcolm, was beside himself and inconsolable at making such a careless mistake.
Andrew stood in the middle of the aftermath on the sixth floor, surveying the area. He ran his hand through his short blond hair and shook his head. The blood didn’t really bother him; he’d seen his share of that. But the fact that the dead were police officers, security guards, and nurses—people who dedicated their lives to helping others--that was difficult.
There were two police officers covered by sheets directly outside of Gibbon’s room. They had identified the two security guards on this floor and two on the roof. There were two nurses in the stairwell that must have been the first victims according to the timeline the police had established. However, a replay of the surveillance footage showed two of the victims had been taken with the intruders. There was no camera angle to show exactly what had happened to the nurse and the detective that were missing, but the police had assumed they had been shot.
While there were other patients and staff members on the floor during the assault, all of them had hidden in fear, except for Detective Abby Watson, who was being interviewed by police in another waiting room on the other side of the floor. Andrew was hopeful that he would also get an opportunity to speak with her before the sun came up.
There had been no sign of the hospital helicopter that the intruders had stolen once it departed from the woods near the Delaware River a few minutes after it left the hospital. Likewise, there was no trace of the SUV that had sped off with the rest of the men dressed in black. Andrew’s bikes had lost them near Seventh and Walnut, and while Andrew wanted to go back to his own headquarters and regroup before going out and starting a manhunt, he didn’t think his team was capable of that. He was fairly certain their best option at this point was to wait for Aaron and his A-Team to arrive.
Stella, who had been talking to a detective over by the nurses’ station, approached him. She was an African-American woman with a blond afro and a gentle smile. She stepped over, careful of the areas that the forensics’ team was analyzing, and said quietly, “I think we’re good.”
Andrew nodded. “They all believe we’re a special branch of the government sent here to protect Gibbon?”
“Yes, and they also think he was taken by terrorists,” she affirmed.
“Interesting,” Andrew replied, his eyebrows knitting together. “Did you plant that?”
“I didn’t have to. One of the patients down the hall said she heard them speaking in some foreign language. She was calling them terrorists, so the police were already prone to believe that. The FBI is on the way, however. So, we should probably get out of here.”
“Right,” Andrew agreed. There was no reason to take a chance on having to explain their presence again. “Where’s Reggie?”
“He’s downstairs helping console some of the patients and staff who saw us burst through the door. We can get him on the way out,” she explained.
Andrew looked around the area one more time, and when his eyes turned toward the nurses’ station, he saw Abby Watson standing there in a crumpled suite with a lost look in her eyes, which were focused directly on him. “Let me…” he began, but before he could finish the sentence, he was crossing over to her, leaving Stella watching him with a puzzled look on her face.
“Detective Watson?” he said quietly. “I’m Andrew Cooper. I’m with….”
“I think I know who you are,” she cut him off. “I want to talk to you. But not now. Not here.”
She had a look about her that resembled a sapling in a windstorm, bent and weathered, but not broken. He slowly nodded his head, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a business card. “Call me when you’re ready.”
Watson took the card and slipped it in her pocket with an absent nod. As he turned to go, her hand caught him, and Andrew turned back to face her. “Do you think… do you think there’s a chance that Dixon might still be alive?” she asked.
He considered her question carefully. Aaron was with him on the IAC, and before he replied, he wanted some advice from his superior. Finally, after a brief conversation, he said, “No, miss. I don’t think so.” There was no reason to tell her that he was probably still breathing, but he would never be the same again.
Watson’s head dropped, and her hand slowly fell from Andrew’s arm. “I didn’t think so,” she said quietly. “I still want to help you if I can—tell you what I know.”
“You call me when you’re ready,” he replied with a weak smile. “Take care, Detective Watson.”
He turned and walked away, meeting Stella in the hallway and making his way back downstairs, all the while knowing that if Abby Watson saw what he thought she must have seen, there was no way she would ever be the same again either.