“A dream,” I said finally. “It started with a dream last night. I dreamed about drowning, or about someone drowning. I think it was Jilly.” I told them everything I could remember, which was nearly all of it. I shrugged and said, “That’s why I called so early this morning. I found out the dream, or whatever it was, had happened. She’s in a coma.” What is that going to mean? I wondered yet again. Will she live but be a vegetable? Will we have to decide whether or not to unplug her?
“I’m scared,” I said, looking at Sherlock. “More scared than I’ve ever been in my life. Facing those terrorists with only a.450 Magnum Express wasn’t even in the same ballpark. Getting blown into the air in that car explosion didn’t come close to this, trust me.”
“You wasted two of them, Mac,” Savich said, “including the leader, and you would have been blown into a thousand pieces if it hadn’t been for a bit of luck-the angle of the blast was sharper than they intended-and a well-placed sand dune.”
I paused a moment, then nodded. “That I understand, but I don’t understand this dream; it’s just plain scary. I felt her hit the water. I felt pain, then nothing, like I was dead. “I was with her, or I was her, or something. It’s crazy, but I can’t pretend it didn’t happen. I’ve got to go to Oregon. Not next week or even in two days. I’ve got to go today.”
Because Sherlock was right here with me, because I was so scared I wanted to howl and cry at the same time, I leaned over and pulled Sherlock up against my good side. One skinny little arm came around my neck. I felt tears clog my throat, but I wasn’t about to let them out. I’d never live that one down, even if neither of them told a single soul. No, I just held her close, felt that soft hair of hers tease my nose. I looked over at Savich. The two of them had been married a year and a half. I’d been Sher-lock’s Man of Honor at their wedding. Savich was well known and well liked in the Bureau. Both Savich and Sherlock were in the CAU, the Criminal Apprehension Unit, headed by Savich, who’d created the unit some three years before. I managed to get myself together and said, “You’ve got a good one here, Savich.”
“Yeah, on top of everything else, she gave me the neatest little kid in all of Washington. You haven’t seen Scan since he was a month old, Mac. It’s time you did. He’s pushing five months.”
“I’ll get over as soon as I can.”
“See that you do. Hey, Sherlock, you okay? Don’t worry about Mac. He’ll go to Oregon and see what the hell’s going on. We’ll be here if he needs backup, not more than a five-hour plane ride away.
“Mac, are you sure you’re ready to climb back onto your horse? You still look a bit on the weedy side. How about coming to stay with us for a couple of days before you take off? We’ll put you next to the baby’s room. Too bad you can’t breast-feed. That would make up for us having to take care of you.”
As it turned out, I ended up staying at the hospital for another day and a half until, frankly, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I spoke to Paul twice a day. There was no change in Jilly’s condition. The doctors were still saying there was nothing they could do but just wait and see. Kevin and his boys were in Germany, and my sister Gwen, a buyer for Macy’s, was in New York. I told them I’d keep them posted as often as I could.
I flew west that Friday, on an early morning flight from Washington Dulles. I rented a light blue Ford Taurus at the Portland International Airport without much hassle, which was always a pleasant surprise in my experience.
It was a beautiful day, not a hint of humidity, no rain clouds, a mild seventy degrees with a light breeze. I’d always liked the West Coast, especially Oregon with its raw, wild mountains and deep-cut gorges with rapids roaring through them. And the ocean, sweeping against the coast for some three hundred miles, all of it savage and magnificent.