After several of hours of surgery, the doctors came out and talked with Mike. Many of the team members were waiting at his side.
"Mr. Ramsey?" said Dr. Orsburn as he walked into the room.
"Yes sir, I'm Mike Ramsey, how is she doctor?" Mike was so anxious, his breathing was labored. He had never been this scared since his wife died.
"She's one tough lady, living after taking a shot like that is remarkable. We had to remove her left kidney and spleen. Her lung was punctured by part of the bullet, but it was in a place where we could remove it. Internally, she's banged up pretty bad, and the next day or two we'll know more. She has lost a tremendous amount of blood, and that doesn't help. One thing that did help her was the freezing weather. It slowed down the flow of blood. But I think she'll pull through just fine. Keep in mind… she won't be ready to run marathons any time soon. But I think she'll be up to par in a couple of months."
Mike walked over and shook the doctor's hand and thanked him. "I need to get to her immediately, she's in protective custody." Thank you God! She's alive, and it looks as though she'll live. This is nothing short of a miracle. The next step was to protect her.
"She's in room 200, but we have her listed as 314 on the books. It's an empty room, and it's in a part of the hospital that's quiet. So you may want to place a guard at that room."
Thank God Dr. Orsburn was on duty, no other doctor would have thought about changing room numbers. "I appreciate all you've done for Lana."
"I hope you catch the son-of-a-bitch who shot her," the doctor said with anger for the shooter.
Immediately, Mike headed to room 200. There laid his precious Lana with tubes running out her side. He laid his head down next to her and cried his heart out while holding her hand.
Joe put his hand on his shoulder, and he too had tears running down his cheeks. "Mike, why don't you go in the bathroom and shower? I brought you a clean change of clothes. I'll watch her.
A hot shower will make you feel better."
"Sure, I would be glad to do that. Ask Dane to sit at room 314 and have someone get him a doctor's uniform. Also, put men at every entrance and make sure someone monitors all the cameras. Get someone to sit outside this room. Nobody… and I mean nobody gets through without the hospital administrator approving them. Give him a call to get photos of all nurses and doctors who will be attending to Lana." Mike's cop mode set in, giving orders. It was second nature to him.
"Consider it done. I brought you some food and coffee," said Joe.
"I'm not hungry, but the coffee sounds good." Mike looked at the black coffee, and he noticed Joe brought french vanilla cream. Seeing the cream choked him up, it reminded him of Lana and their first morning together. After all these years of drinking black coffee, this precious girl changed him.
"I'll get busy setting everything up in the hospital. I'll let you know when everything is in place." Joe wrote down all that needed to be done. Before he left he walked over to the bed and held Lana's hand. "Mike she really is a special lady. It could have been me. Mike, I would be at the morgue right now. She saved my life."
"What do you mean she saved your life?" Mike asked while looking confused.
"Right before the gun shot she pushed me out of the way. She must have seen something,"
said Joe as he noticed the bloody the tubes sticking out of her side. It was difficult to look at them.
Mike's looked at Joe, and he reassuringly said, "Yea, she's a remarkable lady, and she did what any loving person would do. That's the mom in her—that protective instinct. Joe, I don't want you to feel guilty. Nor would Lana want you to feel guilty. She thinks the world of you."
Mike knew Joe would feel guilty the rest of his life, and he hoped if Lana died Joe can come to terms with his feelings.
"Raymond told me the same thing."
*****
Colby a senior agent and long range weapons expert called Raymond to the side, and said,
"I've been measuring the distance of the shot, and it's almost a mile to that light house. That is not an easy shot, and I think we need to start researching who could shoot that far. Also, we've had agents outside for several days, and they didn't notice anyone lingering near the lighthouse.
If someone had been after an agent, he had many opportunities to shoot one of us. My guess, he was after one person. That leaves you, Mike, Joe and Lana. Anyway, that's my theory."
Raymond thought a minute. "Keep in mind it's been cloudy and windy the last several days.
The investigator in me would agree, except Ken says the shooter was after Lana. But we need to keep all options open until we find evidence. Let's go to the lighthouse and double check forensics. Find us a car equipped with forensics materials. I don't think they missed anything, but we are the experts and if we're lucky we might find a clue."
"Yes sir."
Raymond and Colby were both on the Marshals terrorist sharp shooter team and experts in long range weapons. They drove to the lighthouse and quickly ran up the steps two at a time.
They could see fingerprint dust on the center of the double windows. "Colby I want you to see if you can find any tripod marks. I don't think anyone could make that shot without that extra support."
Colby got down on his knees far from the window so he wouldn't contaminate the marks on the floor. He grinned at Raymond. "I see marks of a tripod Raymond. Two marks by the window are clear, but this other has footprints on it."
Raymond got on the floor, took out his flashlight and looked. He also saw three spots.
Colby took several pictures of the untarnished marks. He scratched his head while thinking.
"If you don't mind Raymond I'm going to have forensics checks the outside to find anything like wrappers cigarette butts or anything like that? Also, I'm going to have them check the building for marks and break-ins."
"Good idea. Maybe we'll get lucky, and he threw out some chewing gum," Raymond answered.
Colby walked around and looked at the position where he would make that shot. "I'm guessing he stood right here because there was no wind this morning. Remember we were talking about how perfect the water would be for water skiing, it looked like glass. So he wouldn't have to consider wind, only the velocity for dropping."
Raymond's mind was thinking a mile a minute, and said, "I'm going to try out a theory. I want you to act out this killer's movements from start to finish. Pretend you're using the Remington R700 with a Millet TR1 scope. Show me how you would shoot. Please go through each step from the moment you walk into the room." Raymond carefully shut the windows without touching the glass. Looking across the cove reminded him of the incident. He too saw the glare, but everything happened so fast he didn't have time to react.
Colby went through all the motions; setting up the tripod, putting the gun together, and loading the bullets. Then he pretended he sat in the chair and waited for Lana to make her appearance on the porch. When she sat in the chair on the porch he set the sights, then opens the window, and shoots. The killer did do one thing that was extremely important—it was the same thing Colby did. He took his gloves off to pull the trigger. Many shooters get used to shooting without a glove, and he hoped this shooter did the same thing. Colby used his right hand to pretend to push the window open. Colby pushed it from the hinge side instead of opening the window from the middle. Colby grinned.
"Did you touch the window?" Raymond asked.
"No sir I did not."
"Let's get forensics here."
When forensic arrived they dusted the other side of the window, the hinge side. It appeared as though they got three fresh and clear fingerprints. Raymond got excited. "Process these immediately. And before you leave I want you to scour the grounds for anything; gum wrappers, cigarettes, candy wrappers. And you may check down the side of the far window for rope marks or anything unusual." Raymond stood there for a few minutes and looked at Colby. "Colby, I just had a thought."
"So share it." Colby packed up what few cases they got out of the car.
"How could he possibly know Lana would sit on the porch?"
Colby thought for a minute. "If the Marshals allowed someone under protective custody to go outside; they only allowed them to walk around in the least vulnerable place. In this case, it's the porch."
"I agree, so don't you think it's someone who knows the routines and policies of the marshals? How could this hit man know what we would do?"
"Oh shit Raymond, you don't think a marshal or law enforcement had anything to do with this?"
"Think about it. When we move someone in protective custody we will go miles out of our way if we think it's the best and safest route. How would this guy know if Lana would come out and then sit on the porch? The whole time it looked like he pointed it to the porch," said Raymond.
"You're right, that tripod was locked in on the porch. To add to this theory, all the beach chairs are all at the opposite end of the house. Most people would think if she went outside she would be sitting on one of the chairs basking in the sun. But the tripod was set directly at the porch and not at the beach chairs. Who do you think is involved?" Colby asked intently listening.
If the culprit were a marshal, he wanted the first punch.
"I'm not sure anyone is, but I'm sure whoever shot Lana has knowledge about the marshals.
Colby don't let me forget to tell Ken so he can add that to his computer."
"I won't."
The forensic people were driving off as Colby and Raymond headed back to the house.