Part 26 (2/2)

A single key dangled from the chain.

Bonnie had been in the fields--it was part of her job. The key ring wasn't proof positive of any wrongdoing. Her job required her to examine the weevils. But what the key might open could be the coup de grace for the CDC scientist. If this linked her to the weevils in any criminal way, the proof of her complicity would be irrefutable.

The suit was hot and uncomfortable, and I started to rise. The house needed to be searched, just in case. While I certainly hadn't done a thorough job of the fields, it would take longer than a day to walk a thousand acres. I had to get the key back to town and into Coleman's hands.

As I lumbered toward the house, the first blow landed on my left side at my waist. It came out of nowhere and knocked me sideways. The next one caught me in the stomach, and I blindly grasped what felt like a baseball bat.

Through the tiny window of the suit, I couldn't see anything except dead plants and dirt.

My body doubled over, and though I hung on to the weapon, I couldn't retain my grip. The last thing I felt was a whack to the head that sent pain sparkling behind my eyelids. Starbursts gave way to blackness.

”Don't move, Sarah Booth.” Coleman's face peered down at me through the face mask of a hazmat suit. His voice sounded almost strangled.

When I tried to sit up, his hand pressed me back into the dirt. ”Be still, you're bleeding.”

I reached up to touch my face, but could feel no blood. ”Where am I?”

”Be still, Sarah Booth. Please. The ambulance is coming.” His hand on my chest held me motionless.

Sirens whined in the distance, and I squinted against the bright sun. I was outside. I turned my head and saw the dying cotton. Beside it was the helmet for a hazmat suit lying in the dirt.

My hands moved down my body and I felt the silken material, ripped in places, and realized where I was and what had happened just as a sharp pain tore through my abdomen.

”I've got to pick you up,” Coleman said. His arms slid beneath me. ”I have to get you out of here so the paramedics can work on you. I'm sorry.” When he lifted me, the pain was unbearable and I couldn't stop the cry that escaped.

When I glanced down, I saw the blood. Dark and red it saturated the ground. A pool of it. My blood.

”What's wrong with me?” I gasped the words as he carried me away from the fields toward the house, toward the approach of the sirens.

”Someone hit you and left you to die in the fields.”

”They took my helmet off.”

I felt the muscles in his chest contract. ”I know.”

We both knew the implications of that.

”Doc will take care of you, Sarah Booth. You'll be okay. And when I find the person who did this . . .”

The fingers of my right hand clutched some object. I tried to lift my hand, to show him, but neither my hand nor arm responded. No amount of concentration could force my fist to rise to my chest.

”I'm paralyzed,” I told him. Additional observations and complaints were cut short by the kind of pain that felt as if my torso were being squeezed by a giant. I had no doubt my pelvic bones would snap in two. ”What's wrong with me?” I demanded.

”Save your strength.” He kept walking, his steps steady, determined. ”Don't worry about a thing, Sarah Booth. I've got you. Just don't worry.”

He spoke to me as if I were a small child and he soothed my fears. When he'd carried me all the way to the main gate, he stopped but continued to hold me in his arms. ”Just hang on a few more minutes. Help is on the way.”

The ambulance drew close, and when it stopped, he gently deposited me on the stretcher. The eyes of the EMTs, visible through the helmets they wore, were grave as they set up a drip. So Coleman had gotten suits for emergency personnel as well as the sheriff's office. That was smart.

”She's bleeding out,” one of them said.

”Stop it.” Coleman's voice wasn't raised, but it was clearly a command. ”What ever you have to do, stop the bleeding.”

”We've got to get her to the hospital,” one of the paramedics said.

”I'll ride with her.” Coleman wasn't asking, he was telling.

There was no argument. Coleman climbed into the ambulance beside me, his strong hand gripping mine.

The ambulance took off, and though I tried hard to stay awake, I couldn't. I heard voices, soft and glowing with warmth, calling me into the safety of sleep. The pain was unbearable, and I yielded to the peace offered by unconsciousness.

When I came back to myself, I was some place quiet and cool. There was a tiny beeping noise, the shush of some pneumatic machine. In the distance I could hear people talking. Tinkie--I recognized her voice. And Cece. She was there, too. A masculine voice. Doc.

”Don't tell her until she's stronger,” Tinkie said.

”Sarah Booth is tough,” Doc said. ”She'll handle this.” There was a pause. ”She was due to come in for tests tomorrow morning. I never suspected.”

”I called Graf,” Cece said. ”He's in the desert without phone reception. They promised to get word to him and get him on a flight.”

”Did you tell him she lost the baby?” Doc asked.

”I did. I wanted him to know, but it won't matter,” Cece said. ”His concern will be Sarah Booth. She was out in that field, with all that stuff. Someone hit her, took off her protective gear, and left her out there to inhale that mold and die.”

Tinkie lowered her voice. ”I wouldn't want to be the person responsible for this when Coleman catches him.”

The conversation made no sense to me. I felt like I was disembodied, floating around a room where people spoke of me as if I were dead. But it couldn't be me they were talking about. Someone had lost a baby, and I'd never been pregnant.

”Wait, she's moaning,” Tinkie said.

Her cool hand, so small, stroked my forehead. ”Sarah Booth,” she whispered, ”you're going to be okay.”

”Tinkie . . .” That one word cost me a lot. I tried to open my eyes, but they wouldn't cooperate. ”Paralyzed?” I had the sense that no part of my body would respond to any command.

”No, darling, you're not paralyzed.” She kissed my forehead. ”You're hurt, but you'll heal just fine.”

”Happened?” If I could formulate a sentence it would be nice. I sounded like a poorly trained parrot spitting out one nonsensical word after another.

”You were attacked in the Carlisle cotton fields. Luckily Dewayne knew where you were. Coleman found you and got an ambulance. Someone hit you very hard with something. You're mighty bunged up, but you're too tough to kill.”

She sounded so spritely and upbeat that I knew I was badly injured. I felt another pair of hands lift my wrist, and Doc leaned down.

”Gave us a scare there, Sarah Booth. You lost a lot of blood, but you're going to be fine.”

There were more questions to ask, but I couldn't hold on to one long enough to speak it. ”Graf?” I asked.

<script>