His eyes bore into hers for a connection. He squeezed harder and she met him in the moment.

Fortin heard words – it could’ve been him – but someone said – “I’m Corporal Fortin. RCMP.” And recited his regimental number. Paramedics tried to quiet him but the trooper was making notes, her thumb holding Fortin’s badge and ID to her pad as she wrote.

The words continued.

“We were on a plane taking a prisoner to Seattle. We crashed up there. Others were killed. Prisoner escaped, that’s him, Yacine. Dangerous. Put him in custody. Alert FBI Seattle.”

Fortin repeated his regimental number.

Again, the paramedics tried to quiet him.

Fortin saw that the trooper’s eyes were green, intelligent. Absorbing his words, she reached for her radio.

Fortin lost consciousness during the ambulance trip to the county hospital. When he woke, a woman in a white coat was with him. Now she had his wallet, was studying it and flipping pages on a clipboard.

“Will, you’re in Ice Lake Memorial Hospital. I’m Doctor Niki Burton. Nod if you understand.”

Fortin nodded and Dr. Burton moved her clipboard closer. His ID, driver’s license, medical card, business card, and a card with numbers he’d penned on the back; records of his life.

“You’re hurt too badly for us to fix everything here. We’re going to airlift you to Seattle, is there someone back home we should call?”

Fortin touched his detachment number and the card with his ex-wife’s numbers. Then he brushed his license and medical card until the doctor understood then she glanced to someone; a nurse, holding another clipboard, who nodded and left.

Soon increasingly loud thumping shook the air.

The helicopter had arrived.

As they wheeled Fortin out, he glimpsed Yacine, on a gurney in the hall, handcuffed at the wrists and ankles while half a dozen deputies and troopers guarded him.

One of them looked back at Fortin with a sudden glance that telegraphed a mix of respect and sadness.

The helicopter landed on the front lawn, and a medical crew wearing helmets and headsets loaded Fortin through the clamshell door.

-Chapter 58-

Ice Lake, Washington

Inside the hospital, Dr. Niki Burton was in the quiet of her office, sitting before a computer screen displaying Fortin’s vital information, which she’d accessed with the help of officials in Canada.

She studied it for several moments.

Then she called a twenty-four-hour hotline for a national organ donor network and discussed Fortin’s situation.

“That’s correct,” she said. “The patient will not recover from his injuries.”