Seasoned paramedics, who had seen almost every kind of wound imaginable, had difficulty dressing Maureen DeCampe's wrists, ankles, her cheek, and several abdominal areas where the skin had broken down, where the pericardial glue of the cells had dissolved and become part of the decay. They were busy pumping her with fluids and antibacterial and antibiotic medications. She'd been hooked up to an IV drip. Jessica believed her to be in good hands. Looking down at the still figure beneath the blanket, flanked by Eriq and Keyes, Richard Sharpe asked, “Is she… do you have any hope for… will she make it? How bad is… the decay?”
“ It's not good, and she's damn near out of her mind, and she'll need repeated surgeries to repair the damage done her skin, but for now, she needs to be stabilized,” replied Jessica. “And she's going to need a great deal of psychological help, believe me.”
The medics began working furiously on DeCampe's heart, as it suddenly began to falter. The medics roared into life and rallied, pleading with DeCampe to stay with them as they did what they were trained to do. The scene riveted Jessica's attention, and she thought how very sad if that monstrous Isaiah Purdy had won after all.
These thoughts began to filter in when suddenly, from out of the flaming bam, a screaming, clothes-smoking banshee with a giant red poker-a flaming pitchfork that was scorching the flesh of Isaiah Purdy's hands-lunged straight at the ambulance holding DeCampe. Afire yet determined, Purdy came straight for DeCampe, resolved to drive the pitchfork into her where she lay. Eriq was thrown off balance when Jessica turned at the disturbance, her shoulder smashing into Santiva as she wheeled and fired a single round. The single bullet bit into the man's brain, precisely between his eyes, sending him and his pitchfork down with a thud. The pitchfork still smoldered in the cool night air. Richard Sharpe, who had also reacted with gunfire, had sent a bullet through the old man's heart. “God damn it! We should throw his stinking carcass back into the flames,” shouted Jessica, raising a fist to the dead man. “No, no… better that we can ID him beyond a reasonable doubt,” Santiva countered, as he climbed to his feet, his gun in his hand, looking dizzy now from loss of blood and the recent excitement. Richard Sharpe now took charge, running on adrenaline, ordering one of the medics to look after Chief Santiva's wounds. He and Jessica both realized only now that Eriq had been in a state of walking trauma, and that the loss of blood he had sustained threatened to kill him.
“ How is he?” Jessica asked the medic attending Eriq now, and she thought what a mess the lot of them were. All brought to you by the Purdys of Iowa City.
“ Bleeding badly. An ax on a pulley severed an artery in his arm, and the blow to the head is causing internal bleeding. I gotta tend the arm first, then we need to get him to Holy Cross stat-do something about the head injury.”
“ Get yourselves attended to,” said the medic. “You still haven't gotten an all clear for that smoke inhalation.”
Richard guided Jessica and Shannon back to their own waiting ambulance.
EPILOGUE
Three Months Later
Judge Maureen DeCampe sat up in bed, receiving visitors for the first time since her hospitalization. She would see no one except her immediate family until now. She had sent word that she wanted to see Dr. Jessica Coran. And now Jessica was here, looking in at the door, and DeCampe was smiling and laughing with her daughter. She appeared to be doing well in her therapy. She looked strong, and she was coping both physically and psychologically.
At least on the surface. Jessica wondered what it was like inside DeCampe's mind at three A.M., when she was alone. Jessica knew she needed extended, serious therapy, despite outward appearances. No one could suffer the indignities she had and come out unscathed.
She spied Jessica, who stood hesitant, not sure she wanted to intrude. But DeCampe called her name and waved her into the room, saying she must introduce her to her daughter.
“ Mother, Dr. Coran and I know each other.”
“ Of course you would have met.”
“ I'll just leave you two to chat.” Evangeline, the daughter, hugged Jessica and left.
The judge thanked Jessica for coming by.
“ No problem whatsoever,” she replied.
DeCampe pointed out a seat, and Jessica came further into the room. “I wanted to… well, I never had the opportunity to thank you, Dr. Coran.”
“ No need, Judge DeCampe.”
“ Oh, but there is. From what everyone tells me, you were the bulldog that never slept, the one who finally caught on to who had me and why and most importantly where.”
“ I did my job. I did what I am trained to do.”
“ Not from what I hear. You went without sleep, you put your life on hold for me, and then you put your life in danger for me, going into that bam for me, braving Purdy and fire.”
“ Please, I only wish I could've done more-a lot sooner.”
DeCampe waved this off. “I want you to know that if ever I can repay you… Well, we both know that is impossible.”
“ All of us down at the bureau just want to see you back on the bench, Judge. That would be reward enough.”
Jessica thought that DeCampe's skin grafts had healed beautifully, and that the healthy tissue below that which had decayed had bonded perfectly with the skin taken from other areas of the woman's body. “You look wonderful, by the way,” she told the judge. “Thanks, the doctors here are the best.”
“ I know. We flew them in from Johns Hopkins and the Mayo Clinic.”
“ Oh, I had no idea.”
“ The FBI and the U.S.A. are footing your medical bills, Judge DeCampe.”
“ So my daughters have told me.”
“ But there's a catch.”
“ And that being?”
“ You also continue with psychotherapy.”
DeCampe half smiled and nodded. “Thank you for caring so much, Jessica, and as it happens, I will have plenty of time to pursue psychological help along with the rehab.”
“ That's good to hear, Judge.”
“ Maureen, please… please call me Maureen.”
“ You do look remarkably well, Your Honor.”
“ You can stop that.”
“ But I mean it.”
“ I mean the 'Your Honor' stuff. I'm no longer a judge. I'm done with that life. I won't be returning to the bench, not after this.”
“ I… I had no idea.”
“ No one does. You're the first to know. I don't know why it is important for me to tell you this, but… well… you gave me my life back; you granted me a second chance with my children, with life itself. I'm retiring early to enjoy what is left to me.”
“ That's commendable… good news, I think.”
“ Well… when you've really got one foot literally in the grave-something few of us ever really experience-it does change your outlook.”
“ I just didn't want that bastard to win,” Jessica said through gritted teeth.
Maureen shook her head. 'Trust me, he didn't win. He isn't taking me off the bench. I am. I am taking control of my life again, and I'll never allow anyone ever to do it for me again in any way, shape, or form.”
“ There's someone I would like you to meet, Judge DeCampe,” said Jessica.
Kim Desinor entered the room, going to DeCampe and extending a hand that lightly fell over the judge's forearm. The touch was magical. Somehow DeCampe knew that Desinor was extremely important and instrumental in finding her, but only a handful of words were shared: “How are you,” and “You are looking fine,” and “I know you will be on your feet soon.”
Kim had made a full recovery, not a psychic wound evident, but this strange miracle had occurred only after Judge DeCampe was truly found. Kim had earlier thanked Jessica for “saving my life” as she put it. They had hugged and cried together, and Kim had wanted a full description of how they had found DeCampe, and how Purdy had been dispatched.