Hush Little Girl

by Lisa Regan

  They shouldn’t have been out there.

  She should have sent Lisette back to Griffin Hall with Sawyer. Emily would have been long gone from the place Lisette had last seen her. What did it matter where she went into the woods?

  But what was Rory doing there? Why was he at Harper’s Peak? He couldn’t have known that Emily was there. Could he? Why had he shot at them? Maybe it hadn’t been Rory. But who else would be wandering around in the woods with a shotgun? Mettner had driven Pax back to the produce market after he gave his statement. Had Josie misread Pax? He had been in the woods earlier that day the first time Josie was shot at.

  “Josie!”

  She looked up, fighting her mental fog, and saw Noah rushing toward her. Behind him was Trinity, Drake, Shannon, Christian, Josie and Trinity’s brother, Patrick, and Misty.

  Misty’s hand flew to her mouth.

  Trinity said, “Is any of that your blood?”

  Shannon leaned down and put her arm across Josie’s shoulder. Into Josie’s ear, she said, “Where’s Lisette?”

  “Mom,” Trinity said. “Don’t.”

  Christian said, “I’ll go find a doctor or something and see what we can find out.”

  Josie wanted to tell him to ask for Dr. Nashat, but her mouth wouldn’t work. Noah knelt in front of her. In his hands were her phone and gun. She made no move to take them. He pocketed them and touched her face. “Josie,” he whispered. “Can you talk to me?”

  She said nothing. He palmed her cheek. “Sawyer told us what happened. He’s outside.”

  Finally, words came. “Someone should be with him,” Josie said. “Gram would want someone to be with him.”

  Christian appeared again with Dr. Nashat by his side. “I didn’t have to look far,” he said.

  Dr. Nashat looked down at Josie, concern creasing his features. “Detective, are you okay?”

  Josie looked at Noah. “Sawyer,” she said. “He shouldn’t be alone.”

  Shannon said, “Let’s hear what the doctor has to say, and then Drake and your father can go sit with Sawyer.”

  Dr. Nashat said, “Mrs. Matson is in surgery. While most of the buckshot injuries were superficial, and I was able to remove the pellets myself, she did sustain severe damage to her right radius and ulna. We’ll have an orthopedic doctor look at it, but right now the priority is trying to repair the internal damage. Scans show multiple perforations of her liver and intestines. There are two bullets lodged within her anterior inferior right ventricular wall.”

  Trinity said, “For non-medical professionals, please.”

  Shannon said, “Her heart wall.”

  “Oh my God,” Misty squeaked.

  Dr. Nashat said, “The good news is that there’s no active arterial hemorrhaging in her chest cavity. But she’ll be in surgery for some time. She’s quite advanced in age, and while she was very lucky—these were not close-range shots—the odds of her making it through the stress of multiple surgeries to remove the pellets and repair the internal damage are, I’m afraid, quite low. If she does survive, post-surgical complications could—”

  Trinity said, “That’s enough. We get it. Is there somewhere we can wait or get updates from the surgeons?”

  Dr. Nashat nodded. “Fourth floor. There’s a surgical waiting area. She’s the only one on the floor right now. Dr. Justofin is the trauma surgeon. He’ll either send someone out to update you or see to it himself. It will be several hours, though.”

  Josie heard footsteps behind Dr. Nashat. Dr. Feist pushed her way past him and rushed toward Josie. “My God. I just heard what happened. Josie—”

  She stopped and looked around at all of them. Meeting Dr. Nashat’s eyes, she said, “I just spoke with the surgical resident. She let me know what was going on. I’ll show them to the waiting room upstairs.”

  Dr. Nashat nodded and left. Drake nudged Christian’s ribs and said, “Why don’t we see if we can find Sawyer.”

  As they walked off with Patrick in tow, Dr. Feist put a hand on Noah’s shoulder. He stood and moved away. Dr. Feist said, “I don’t suppose anyone assessed you, did they?”

  She placed two fingers on the side of Josie’s throat.

  “I’m fine,” Josie rasped.

  Trinity said, “You’re a mess. We have to get you out of these clothes.”

  Dr. Feist slid a warm hand under one of Josie’s armpits and drew her to her feet. “Come downstairs to my office. I’ve got an extra pair of scrubs that will fit and a private bathroom.”

  “Josie,” Noah said.

  Her mind fought to focus. “I think it was Rory,” she told him. “Maybe. I don’t know. I didn’t see anyone, but it was a shotgun. Lorelei was killed with her own shotgun. Rory’s out there.”

  “We’re working on it,” Noah said. “That mountain is crawling with police. Anyone who’s out there will be found. I’ll call Mett and Gretchen. They wanted an update right away.”

  “Emily?” Josie asked hopefully.

  He shook his head.

  “Let’s go,” said Dr. Feist. “Lieutenant, you know where to find us when you’re done.”

  Noah leaned in and kissed Josie’s forehead. “I’ll find you,” he said.

  Surrounded by Shannon, Trinity, Misty, and Dr. Feist, Josie found herself herded into an elevator. A few minutes later they were in Dr. Feist’s office. Josie’s gaze fell on her wedding dress hanging in the corner. She should have gotten married, she thought dimly. She should have let Mettner and Gretchen handle the case; walked down the aisle, and watched Lisette beam as they exchanged vows. Instead, she’d been plunged into her own personal hell.

  Misty placed a hand between Josie’s shoulder blades and gently nudged her in the opposite direction, toward Dr. Feist’s private bathroom. “Don’t look at it,” Misty said. “One thing at a time, okay? First, we get you cleaned up.”

  The women crowded into the bathroom. Although it was the same as all the other sterile bathrooms in the hospital, Dr. Feist had added a few personal touches including a small bench and cabinet. While she took towels and a set of scrubs from the cabinets, Misty sat Josie on the bench. Shannon and Trinity began peeling her shirt off. Then Misty was back with a warm, wet towel, carefully wiping away Lisette’s blood.

  Shannon held up Josie’s shirt. “What should we do with this?”

  “Throw it away,” said Trinity, now kneeling in front of Josie to take her sneakers off.

  “No,” Josie cried. “Don’t!”

  She couldn’t bear the thought of losing the shirt she’d been wearing the last time she was close to Lisette. What if that was the last time she would ever hold her grandmother? Misty, Trinity, and Shannon all stared at her. A long moment stretched out, filling the room awkwardly. Finally, Dr. Feist said, “There are patient belonging bags in the exam room. I’ll go get one.”

  Silently, the women scrubbed away the blood until there was a pile of white towels stained red in the corner of the bathroom. Dr. Feist took each piece of Josie’s clothing and placed it into a bag, as promised. Josie did everything they told her to do until she was clean, her skin was damp, and she was dressed in Dr. Feist’s scrubs. Misty brushed her hair while Shannon and Dr. Feist used washcloths to clean her sneakers. They only talked to ask where something was or to give each other instructions. No one demanded anything of Josie, and for that she was glad.

  Then they were back in the elevator, Josie buffeted by the four women as though they were her bodyguards. In the fourth-floor surgical waiting room, Noah waited. “No news yet,” he said.

  She sat down on one of the couches and Noah sat beside her. Curling up, she rested her head in his lap. She didn’t want anyone to talk to her. She didn’t want to answer questions. She didn’t want to think. Still, a voice in her head spoke on a loop: they shouldn’t have been out there.

  Twenty-Seven

  Josie woke with a start. In her dreams the gunshot had gone off again and again. Lisette fell. Lisette rose. She fell again. No matter how many times it h
appened, Josie couldn’t change the outcome. Noah’s hand stroked her hair. “Hey,” he said.

  Josie blinked and sat up. All around the room, her family dozed. Dr. Feist was no longer there. Misty had gone, probably to be with Harris and Trout, but Christian, Patrick, and Drake had brought Sawyer to sit with them. Only he was awake, slouched in his chair and staring straight ahead with glassy eyes. She looked at the clock. It was after five a.m. Eight hours had passed. “No updates?” she asked.

  Noah shook his head.

  She didn’t know whether to take this as a good sign or a bad sign. They were still working on Lisette, which meant she was still alive, but no updates one way or the other in over eight hours couldn’t be good, could it?

  As if reading her mind, Noah said, “I’ll go see what I can find out.”

  He returned twenty minutes later with a nurse. Behind them trailed Misty, who had come with a box of coffee and several breakfast items from Komorrah’s which she placed on one of the tables. As everyone began to wake up, stretch, and fix their coffees, the nurse gave them the update that Lisette was still hanging on. They’d gotten most of the pellets out and repaired as much of the damage as they could, but part of her bowel had to be resected. It would be a few more hours before she went into recovery.

  Josie sat back down on the couch, waving off coffee and food until Misty insisted she eat, sitting beside her and watching her chew each bite like a mother hen. People drifted in and out, but Josie stayed on the couch, sleeping when she could because her reality was so horrific, she didn’t want to stay in it.

  Finally, four hours later, a tall, burly doctor in blue scrubs and a surgical cap with dolphins on it came into the room. “Josie Quinn?” he asked.

  Josie raised her hand. “I’m here.”

  He walked over and shook her hand. “I understand you’re Mrs. Matson’s granddaughter.”

  Josie nodded. Her gaze found Sawyer across the room and she pointed to him. “This is her grandson, Sawyer Hayes.”

  “Very good. I’m Dr. Justofin. Your grandmother is in recovery in the ICU right now. We had to remove a portion of her liver, and she ended up needing two bowel resections. Then ortho came in and did their best to reassemble her arm. She’s got rods and pins in it. Your grandmother was extremely lucky to survive this, but she is in critical condition.”

  Noah said, “Will she live?”

  Dr. Justofin frowned. “She’s alive now. If you’re asking for a long-term prognosis, I can’t tell you with any degree of accuracy. A lot will depend on the next couple of days. She’s in her eighties and this has been a lot of stress to put on her body. Risk of infection is extremely high, and we’re still worried about internal bleeding. I’ve seen a few hunting accidents by way of shotgun in my time. Younger, healthier people have died with far less serious injuries. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think you should be prepared that the next few days with your grandmother may be her last.”

  Josie swallowed. She was so dehydrated, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. “When can we—when can we see her?”

  “A few hours,” said Dr. Justofin. “You can go downstairs to the third floor where the ICU waiting room is and someone will come get you when it’s time.”

  Someone thanked him, and Josie watched him walk out of the room.

  Sawyer stood up. Glaring at Josie, he said, “She’s going to die. We have a few days with her, if we’re lucky. I hope this case—whatever the hell you people are working on—was worth her life.”

  “Hey,” Noah said. He put himself between Sawyer and Josie. “I know you’re suffering, but you’re way out of line.”

  Sawyer’s voice was so calm, it felt like a knife straight to Josie’s heart. “She didn’t have to be out there. No one did. You two could have had your wedding like normal people, but no, the great Josie Quinn couldn’t stay out of the spotlight.”

  A chorus of protests went up around the room. Drake tried to insert himself between Noah and Sawyer, but it was too late. Josie never even saw Noah’s hand leave his side, but then his fist smashed into Sawyer’s face. Misty cried out, then clamped her hands over her mouth. Shannon said, “That’s enough.”

  Drake dragged Sawyer toward the door while Christian and Patrick restrained Noah.

  A hand slid into Josie’s. She looked over to see Trinity beside her.

  One of Sawyer’s hands shot over Drake’s shoulder, pointing an accusing finger at Noah. “You know I’m right. She’s nothing but trouble, man. You’re lucky you didn’t get married. She’ll probably get you killed, too.”

  Drake pushed Sawyer through the doorway and out into the hall, leaving the rest of them in silence. Noah stood behind Christian and Patrick, chest heaving, fists clenched at his sides. “You better hope he doesn’t press charges,” Christian muttered. “Your career will be over.”

  “I don’t care,” Noah snapped.

  Shannon said, “Everyone just needs to calm down. Take some deep breaths. Has everyone eaten?”

  Taking her cue, Misty opened another of the boxes of food and offered some to Christian, Patrick, and Noah. Noah refused and went to sit in the corner of the room. Josie stood up, sliding her hand out of Trinity’s grasp. “I need to get some air.”

  Everyone stared at her, but no one argued or tried to go with her, for which she was glad.

  She went through the Emergency Department, striding through the lobby doors unnoticed. Outside, she walked several feet from the doors, sucked in the cool, fresh air and turned her face to the sun. It was amazing the way things worked, she thought. Her entire life was being shattered into pieces and the sun still came up, still shone indifferently onto the world.

  “Quinn.”

  Josie looked over to see Chief Chitwood walking toward her. Dread settled in her stomach. For the first time in hours, sensations returned to her body again and she felt like she might pass out. She should have eaten more. She didn’t want to, but whether she liked it or not, her body demanded it.

  “Sir,” she said.

  He kinked a bushy brow as he looked down at her. “I’m not going to ask you a bunch of dumb questions,” he said. “I was just up in the ICU waiting room looking for you. Got a full report.”

  “Then you know that Noah hit Sawyer?” Josie asked.

  He waved a hand in the air. “I don’t care about that right now.” He held out a set of car keys. Her car keys. “Brought your car back from Harper’s Peak. It sat there all night. I thought you might want it. You know, in case things get too intense in there and you need a break. Parked it in the visitor’s lot.”

  Josie took them. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Something else.” He dug into his jacket pocket and came up with what looked like a set of thick beads which he deposited into her hand.

  “What’s this?”

  “Rosary bracelet,” he said.

  “I’m not Catholic, sir,” Josie said.

  “Neither am I.”

  She stared at the bracelet. There was a medal with a woman in flowing garb on it. Around her were the words: “Our Lady Untier of Knots.”

  Josie was too tired to figure out what Chitwood was doing. “I don’t understand, sir.”

  He reached forward and curled her fingers over the bracelet. “Someday, I’ll tell you the story of how I got that thing. All you need to know right now is that even if you never prayed a day in your life, when someone you love is dying, you learn to pray pretty damn fast. Someone who believed very deeply in the power of prayer gave that to me, and at the time, it was a great comfort. Maybe it won’t mean shit to you. I don’t know. Regardless, if this is Lisette’s time, nothing’s gonna keep her here, but you? You’re gonna need all the help you can get. You hang onto that until you’re ready to give it back to me, and Quinn, I do want that back.”

  “How will I know when I’m ready to give it back?” Josie asked.

  Chitwood started walking away. Over his shoulder, he said, “Oh, you’ll know. See you in the ICU?”
/>
  “Yeah.”

  When he was gone, Josie opened her hand and stared at the bracelet. The beads were green and polished and warm against her palm. It was quite beautiful. She squeezed it again and put it into the pocket of Dr. Feist’s scrubs. She had prayed to God so many times during her childhood to save her from so many horrific situations. It had almost never worked. Even Lisette, in spite of all her machinations, had not been able to save Josie from the worst of what happened to her. Josie had learned to rely on herself. Still, she appreciated whatever it was Chitwood was trying to do. Offer her comfort in his own bizarre way, from what she gathered.

  Fingering her car keys, she took a walk through the parking lot until she found her vehicle. She always kept a change of clothes in a bag in the back. As she got closer to the SUV, she hit the unlock button on her key fob. She heard the metallic clink of the locks disengaging. She looked up, something on the driver’s side window catching her attention. For a second, she wasn’t sure exactly what she was seeing. Then a gasp escaped her lips. Her keys fell to the ground.

  There, on the windshield, was a pinecone doll.

  Twenty-Eight

  A half hour later, Josie, Noah, Chitwood and Gretchen crowded inside the hospital’s security CCTV room and watched as the security manager on duty brought up black and white footage from the parking lot. The angle was from a light post that extended high above the ground and sat several yards away from where Chitwood had parked her vehicle. They had waited until Hummel arrived to take the doll into evidence before requesting the CCTV footage. Josie doubted they would get anything useful from either the doll or the footage, but Chitwood wanted everything documented nevertheless. Gretchen had arrived in the ICU when Josie went back there to get Noah and Chitwood. Her khakis and Denton PD polo shirt were wrinkled and covered in dirt. Her brown and gray spiked hair was unusually unkempt, and the dark circles under her eyes told Josie that she hadn’t slept in at least twenty-four hours. She was probably going off shift but had detoured to the hospital to check on Lisette. Josie felt relief at her presence, although now she was maybe looking at another seemingly endless shift on the Mitchell case.