He heard the sound of medical staff rushing in, of voices calling his name. Max whimpered nearby, dragging himself closer to Carson despite his injuries. The dog saved the dog Carson managed before darkness claimed him.
Carson awoke to steady beeping and the antiseptic smell of hospital disinfectant. His body felt leaden, his mind foggy from painkillers. Slowly, memories filtered through his mind.
Max, he tried to say, but his throat was too dry for more than a rasp. He’s going to be okay. Sarah Harrison sat beside his bed, looking exhausted but composed.
She offered him water, helping him drink through a straw. Max has a fractured rib and a concussion, but the veterinarian says he’ll make a full recovery. They’re keeping him at the animal hospital across town.
And the chief? Sarah’s expression softened, stable. The doctors are cautiously optimistic. He regained consciousness briefly yesterday, asked for you and Max.
Yesterday, Carson had lost time. How long have I been out? Almost 36 hours. The bullet went clean through your shoulder, but you lost a lot of blood.
Parker. Sarah’s face hardened, but the syringe worked quickly. And Kingfisher? He’s in surgery.
He’ll live to stand trial, with her hand tightened around the water cup. It was Judge Collins, Michael the Judge Collins who’s been on the bench for 20 years, the one who married Richard and me. Carson closed his eyes briefly.
The betrayal would cut Harrison deeply when he learned of it. I know. They’ve arrested Robert this morning.
The FBI had been building their own case, apparently. Richard had been working with them for months. She shook her head in disbelief.
A judge and the mayor, both on a cartel’s payroll. It doesn’t seem possible. Money corrupts, Carson said simply.
And Collins and Hastings had expensive tastes. A soft knock interrupted them. Officer Ramirez entered, as Carson felt.
Sir, glad to see you awake. She handed Sarah a paper cup of coffee before continuing. Thought you’d want an update.
The FBI has taken over the case. They’ve made 17 arrests so far, including three more officers from our department and the county commissioner. Carson nodded, unsurprised by the extent of the corruption.
Harrison had uncovered something far larger than the level of Riverside’s power structure. Collins is talking, Ramirez continued, trying to cut a deal. He claims Parker was the primary contact with the cartel, bringing him and Hastings in later when they needed judicial and political cover.
And the attempt on Harrison’s life? Parker’s idea, apparently. The chief was getting too close, had too much evidence. Collins provided the poison and said, Sir, there’s something else.
They found a detailed burial plot in Collins’ home office with your name on it. You were next. The revelation sent a chill through Carson, despite the room’s warmth.
He’d suspected as much, but confirmation brought the danger into sharp focus. There’s more, Ramirez said, her voice dropping. The toxicology report was in small doses over weeks, most likely in his coffee.
They found residue in the break room coffee machine at the station. It was targeted specifically at him. Who had access to the break room? Everyone in the department.
But the machine was replaced three months ago. Only four people knew the specific brand Harrison preferred you Parker, the chief’s assistant, and… Sarah Carson finished Sarah Harrison’s face drained of color. No, that’s impossible.
I would never. Not you, Carson interrupted gently. Your sister.
She’s been staying with you, hasn’t she? Since before Richard got sick? Sarah stared at him, uncomprehending. Linda? But why would she? Ramirez nodded grimly. We found payments to her account.
She’s been dating Collins because of his position and connection to your family. The coffee cup slipped from Sarah’s fingers spilling across the sterile hospital floor. Her hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide with horror and betrayal.
She brought coffee to Richard every morning, she whispered. Said it was, was our special way of showing we cared while he was under so much stress. Carson reached for her hand, his own pain forgotten before she could respond, alarms blared throughout the hospital corridor.
A voice over the intercom called urgently for medical personnel to report to the ICU. Harrison, Carson realized, struggling to sit up despite the searing pain in his shoulder. It’s the chief.
Ramirez, already moving, hand on her weapon. Stay here, I’ll check. But Sarah was on her feet, already rushing toward the door.
Richard, T.E. Carson forced himself upright, ignoring the pull of stitches and the wave of dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him. Harrison was still in danger, would remain in danger as long as anyone connected to Kingfisher’s operation remained free, and if Linda had been working with Collins and Parker all along. The realization hit him with sickening clarity.
She would have access to guard rotations. Ramirez, he called, staggering toward the door. Find Linda Harrison now.
The ICU corridor had transformed into a scene of controlled chaos. Medical personnel rushed in and out of Harrison’s room, their faces tense with urgency. Monitors wailed in electronic distress as a crash cart was wheeled through the doorway.
Carson staggered forward, each step sending waves of pain through his injured shoulder, which signified around his knees. Sarah stood frozen in the hallway, one hand pressed against the observation window, her face a portrait of renewed anguish. Inside the room, doctors performed CPR on Harrison’s still form, his body jerking lifelessly with each compression.
What happened? Carson demanded of the nurse attempting to block his approach. His heart stopped suddenly. He could not get the sound of the defibrillator charging inside the room.
A doctor called. Harrison’s body arched as electricity coursed through it. The monitor continued its flat, merciless tone.
Carson scanned the crowded hallway, searching for Linda Harrison among the hospital staff and security personnel. No sign of her. Had she already fled? Or was she watching from somewhere while Sarah whispered, her voice hollow with disbelief.
Ten minutes ago, she brought coffee for the officers on duty. Said she was giving me a break that I should get some air. Ramirez appeared at the end of the corridor, shaking her head grimly.
No sign of her on this floor. Security is checking the exits. Inside Harrison’s room, they were trying again.
Clear. We’ve got him back, someone called. Sarah sagged against Carson, her relief palpable.
But the respite was brief. A doctor emerged, pulling his mask down his expression grave. Mrs. Harrison, your husband is stabilized for now, but his condition is extremely critical.
The toxicology team believes he’s received another dose of the same compound. We’re administering the first, clutching Carson’s arm for support. The first poisoning caused significant organ damage.
This second exposure, his system may simply be too compromised to fight anymore. Her words fell like stones. Carson felt Sarah trembling beside him, her composure finally beginning to crack under the relentless assault of betrayals and near losses.
There must be something more you can do, Carson insisted. The doctor hesitated. He suggested a treatment protocol.
It’s aggressive, with significant risks, but it might help neutralize the toxin more effectively. Do it, Sarah said immediately. Mrs. Harrison, I need to be clear, this could save his life or the strain could kill him outright.
And even if he survives, the combined neurological damage from both poisonings might be substantial. Meaning? He might not fully recover consciousness or he might wake up with significant cognitive impairment. There’s no way to predict the outcome.
Sarah straightened, finding steel within her grief. Richard would rather fight, no matter the odds. He’s never given up on anything in his life.
Do whatever you can. As the doctor returned to Harrison’s room, Ramirez’s radio crackled. He spotted Linda in the parking garage.
She’s in custody. I need to see her, Sarah said, her voice suddenly cold. That’s not advisable, Ramirez began.
She’s my sister. She poisoned my husband. I need to know why.
Carson understood her need for answers, however painful they might be. Bring her to the security office. We’ll meet you there.
The small security room was lighting harsh against Linda Harrison’s tear-streaked face. She sat handcuffed to a metal chair, her designer clothes incongruous with her circumstances. When Sarah entered, Linda’s composure crumbled entirely.
Sarah, please, you have to believe me. I didn’t know what they were planning. I thought it was just to make him sick enough to retire.
You poisoned him. You poisoned my husband. Linda’s shoulders slumped.
Colin said it was harmless, just something to cause stress symptoms, force Richard to step down before he ruined everything. Before he exposed the judge’s corruption, you mean Carson interjected. Linda shot him a venomous look.
Michael doesn’t understand what it’s like for people like us, Sarah. Living on a teacher’s salary, a cop’s pension? Colin’s offered me us a way out, comfort, security, in exchange for helping a drug cartel operate in our city, for poisoning my husband. It wasn’t supposed to go this far.
Linda insisted, desperation edging her voice. When Richard didn’t retire, Colin said they needed something stronger just to put him in the hospital for a while. But then Parker came to me yesterday, said the plan had changed.
So you tried to finish the job today, Carson said coldly. Linda’s face crumpled. He threatened my son, said if I didn’t give Richard one final dose, they’d go after Tommy next.
What choice did I have? Sarah stared at her sister, a stranger wearing a familiar face. You could have come to me, to the police, to anyone. And say what? That I’d been poisoning the chief of police? That I was sleeping with the judge and protecting drug dealers? Linda’s laugh held no humor.
I was trapped. Before Sarah could respond, a sharp knock interrupted them. Dr. Miller entered, her expression somber.
Detective Mrs. Harrison, I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s a situation with Chief Harrison. The dread in Miller’s voice sent Carson’s pulse racing. What’s happened? The experimental protocol caused a severe reaction.
The antibodies are failing. And the latest brain scan shows she hesitated, glancing at Sarah. There’s evidence of significant damage to the frontal and temporal lobes.
Sarah pressed a hand to her mouth. What does that mean? If when he regains consciousness, he may not recognize you. He may not remember his life, his career.
His personality could be fundamentally altered. The news settled like a physical weight on Carson’s shoulders. Chief Harrison, the man who’d saved him as a teenager, who’d mentored him, whose integrity had been the backbone of the department, might effectively be gone even if his body survived.
There’s something else, Miller continued. Max was brought in this morning for follow-up treatment. He’s exhibiting concerning symptoms as well.
The impact trauma was more severe than initially diagnosed. It was too much damage. It was too much Harrison’s condition, Max’s uncertain fate, the conspiracy that had hollowed out Riverside’s institutions like a cancer.
Carson felt the room tilting, his injury and exhaustion finally overwhelming his determination. Detective? Miller’s voice seemed to come from a great distance. You need to sit down before you fall down.
He allowed himself to be guided to a chair, Linda sat stone-faced, the full consequences of her actions finally sinking in. I need to be with Richard, Sarah said finally. Of course, Miller nodded.
But there’s one more decision that needs to be made urgently. The hospital has a limited supply of specialized dialysis equipment with both Richard and Detective Carson requiring treatment. Carson understood immediately.