Chapter 13 - THE WRONG BADGE
“Hands where I can see them!”
Mave kept pressure on Vincent’s wound.
“Get a medic!”
Walsh approached.
“Step away from him.”
“He’s bleeding out.”
“Not my problem.”
Leo raised his weapon.
Ten rifles immediately aimed at him.
Walsh smiled.
“Don’t.”
Leo lowered the gun.
Mave looked at Walsh.
“You’re in the files.”
His smile faded.
“What files?”
“The ones I just sent to half the country.”
That got his attention.
Walsh grabbed her arm.
“Where?”
“New York Tribune.”
He tightened his grip.
“Where else?”
“Federal prosecutor’s office.”
Harder.
“Where else?”
“A server you’ll never find.”
Walsh swore.
Mave stared directly at him.
“You’re done.”
He leaned close.
“So are you.”
A woman’s voice came from behind him.
“Take your hand off her.”
Walsh turned.
A dozen more agents entered from the opposite side.
At their front stood a woman in a navy coat.
“Assistant U.S. Attorney Julia Reyes.”
Walsh’s face changed.
Reyes held up her phone.
“Your name is all over three hundred pages of financial records.”
Walsh reached for his weapon.
Bad decision.
Agents tackled him.
Chaos returned.
Mave barely noticed.
“Medic!”
Reyes pointed.
“Get Costa help.”
Two paramedics rushed inside.
They cut open Vincent’s shirt.
One shook his head.
“Bullet entered high. We need to move.”
Mave climbed into the ambulance.
An agent tried to stop her.
“She’s coming,” Leo said.
The agent looked at Reyes.
Reyes nodded.
“Let her.”
Inside the ambulance, Mave held Vincent’s hand.
Cold.
Just like the first morning she had handed him coffee.
“Vincent.”
No response.
“You don’t get to die.”
The monitor beeped rapidly.
“You hear me?”
Nothing.
“You told me you loved me and then got shot. That is not a complete conversation.”
One paramedic looked at her.
“Ma’am, let us work.”
“I am letting you work.”
“You’re threatening the patient.”
“He responds to threats.”
The paramedic almost smiled.
Vincent’s eyelids moved.
Mave leaned closer.
“Vincent?”
His voice was barely there.
“Too loud.”
She laughed and cried at the same time.
“You idiot.”
“Probably.”
His eyes opened slightly.
“Mave.”
“I’m here.”
“Did it upload?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Then the monitor changed.
A long alarm filled the ambulance.
“Move!” the paramedic shouted.
Mave was pulled backward.
Hands pressed against Vincent’s chest.
“Vincent!”
“Ma’am!”
“Vincent!”
His eyes closed.
The paramedic began compressions.
May you like
Mave stood frozen as the man she had spent three years pretending not to care about disappeared beneath doctors’ hands.
And then the monitor became one long, unbroken tone.
