“She’s going into anaphylactic shock,” she heard someone call out.
She? She couldn’t imagine who it was until they loaded her onto a gurney with an oxygen mask over her face. It was Taylor Reid.
“Was she shot?” she asked Detective Borden when he came toward her.
“No. What are you doing in here? I told you to stay back.”
“Why do you have Dustin restrained?” she demanded.
“He had a gun. We’re taking him to the police station.”
“I’ll meet you there,” she said. She started back to her car, then turned around. “Is the girl going to be all right?”
“They gave her adrenaline, and they’re taking her to the hospital.”
“Is she conscious?” she asked.
“Yeah, they said she came to.”
“Can I talk to her for a minute? I can call her sister if I can get her number.”
He shrugged, then waved her toward the ambulance. “Go ahead.”
When Jamie got to the ambulance, the EMTs were getting an IV started in Taylor’s arm. She lay on the gurney, her skin covered with red blotches and bandages. Her chest rose and fell rapidly with the struggle to breathe.
“Taylor, it’s me. Jamie Powell. I’ll call your sister if you can give me the number.”
Taylor looked weak as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and handed it to Jamie.
It was still taping. She’d had it on video. She had probably recorded the whole scene with Travis and Dustin as it had played out. Jamie turned it off and navigated to the contacts. She called Harper and told her to meet Jamie at the hospital.
She assured Taylor that Harper would be there, then opened up the video. She called out to the detective.
He came back to her as if ready to arrest her just to get her out of the way. “What!”
“Taylor was videotaping the whole thing. It’s a sixteen-minute video.”
He took Taylor’s phone and played the video. Jamie watched over his shoulder. They saw the trees as Taylor moved through the woods, heard the sound of men’s voices talking distantly. Then Dustin and Travis came into sight. Neither was armed.
Detective Borden turned up the volume as Dustin begged Travis to turn himself in. Then they heard Taylor screaming, “Look at me!”
Then came the gunshot, and the trek to the truck to get the plastic ties. They watched Travis knock the gun out of her hand, grab it, and turn it on her.
They watched Dustin throw himself between them, protecting the girl.
The detective took the phone to his car, and Jamie knew this was almost over. The video showed clearly who the guilty party was in this tragic case. Dustin would be exonerated.
As the ambulance pulled onto the dirt road, lights flashing, Jamie went back to her car. She waited until the police cars with Dustin and Travis pulled out of the clearing, then followed them to the police station.
63
The press had gotten word of the arrest, and as Jamie pulled into the police station parking lot, she turned on the radio and scanned until she found some local news. “. . . the bombing at Trudeau Hall that killed twenty-five, including presidential candidate Ed Loran. When the three men—Samuel Bates, Jack Bates, and Anthony Bates—were taken into custody, the police found more explosives like the ones used at Trudeau Hall, as well as evidence that their next target was to be a townhall meeting for the re-election of Mayor Frank Japarti of Raven.”
Jamie leaned back hard on her seat and burst into tears. She thanked God for the action the police had taken. It should be an open-and-shut case with the explosives in their possession.
She turned up the TV as the reporter went on. “The Bates brothers, we’re told, were part of a class-action lawsuit against Cell Three Therapeutics, at which Ed Loran was the CEO. Their allegation was that the toxic waste from the company had caused cancer across the community, resulting in the deaths of their eight-year-old sister and both parents, as well as many others in the small community.”
Jamie wiped her eyes and got out of the car. If Dustin didn’t go free after this, then there was no justice. She tried to look professional as she muscled her way through the media and hurried to the front door of the police station.
She pushed inside and headed to the sergeant’s desk. “I’m Jamie Powell, and I’d like to know the status of my client who was just brought in—Dustin Webb.”
“Take a seat, Ms. Powell. We’re all a little busy right now. I’ll call the detective, and we’ll get you back there before they interview him.”
She didn’t sit down. Her heart was pounding as she stood in the waiting area. This interview couldn’t come soon enough.
64
Taylor was breathing better by the time she got to the hospital, but her heart still raced, and the world around her still spun. As they wheeled her down the hospital corridor, she heard Harper beside her.
“I’m her sister. What’s wrong with her?”
“Anaphylactic shock,” one of the EMTs said.
The words made it through the ringing in her ears. “What?” Taylor asked, trying to sit up. The movement of the gurney made her fall back down.
“What caused it?” Harper asked.
“We’re not sure. Is she on any medications?”
They had asked Taylor something like that in the ambulance—Have you taken any medication or eaten anything?—but her mind had been racing too much to settle on a response.
“Yes,” Harper said. “She started a new medication for OCD a couple of days ago.”
They reached a room and wheeled her gurney in. “Have you noticed any reactions before this?” a nurse asked.
“No, I haven’t noticed anything,” Harper said. “She’s taken it every day.”
Taylor pulled off the oxygen mask. “Rash,” she said. “I’ve had a rash.” She showed them the rashes on her legs and arms.
“Is that why the bandages?” one of the EMTs asked.
“Yes. I was scratching myself raw.”
“You didn’t tell me that!” Harper said. She looked at the EMT. “She’s a survivor of Trudeau Hall. She’s been erratic, depressed, and anxious, and obsessed with the bombing and Dustin Webb, the killer.”
“He wasn’t the killer.” Taylor took a deep breath of oxygen from the mask again, then pulled it away. “He saved my life.”
Harper looked distraught. “Now she isn’t making sense.”
“Yes, I am. I was with him.”
She was making her sister cry, which distressed Taylor, too, but she needed to explain. But she couldn’t seem to find the breath.
“Where did you find her?” Harper asked the ambulance driver.
“She was at the location where they made the arrests.”
Taylor pulled the mask off again. “Of Dustin Webb and that other guy. I almost killed them.”
“Taylor!”
“He saved my life,” she said again. “I wasn’t thinking right. My thoughts were mixed up, and my ears are still ringing . . . head hurts . . .”
“You should be feeling better soon,” a nurse said.
Taylor put the mask back over her mouth and lay still as they moved her IV bag and clasped the oximeter on her finger.
While the EMTs gave the nurses the rundown on what they’d done, Taylor focused on her sister’s withering look. “I’m sorry.”
“Taylor, you could have died. Why would you do such a dangerous thing?”
Taylor was too tired to go through it again.
“Why didn’t you tell me what that medicine was doing to you? You were supposed to call the doctor if you had any adverse reactions.”
“I didn’t connect it.”
“You were too distracted.” Harper stopped a nurse coming into the room. “Can you call her psychiatrist who prescribed this medication?”
“Yes, we’ll do that right away.”
Harper was crying now, as if she’d caused the reaction herself. “I was supposed to be watching out for you.”
> Taylor tried to sit up but fell back. She reached for Harper’s hand. “You did watch out for me. It wasn’t your fault. I did what I thought I had to do.”
Harper came into her arms, and Taylor hugged her tightly. “I’m okay now,” Taylor said. “I’m here. I’m gonna be okay.”
Harper wiped the tears from her face, and as she moved away, Taylor noticed the TV near the top of the wall across from her. She found the remote attached to her bed. She clicked it on, and it came up on a local station.
The sisters listened to the local news as the nurse injected more medication into Taylor’s IV, and elation surged within her as she heard about the arrests of the Bates brothers and the man who had almost killed her—Travis Grey.
Justice was being served, with or without her. Her muddy thoughts and the unwise actions she’d taken because of them hadn’t hampered the investigation. Maybe it had even helped.
As the medicine entered her system, the ringing in her ears subsided, and she felt her breathing coming more easily. Her mind grew lethargic, but that was better than her frantic, racing thoughts.
She was going to be all right. The nightmare was almost over.
65
When the police let Jamie into Dustin’s interview room, she didn’t care who might be watching through the two-way glass. She threw her arms around his neck, and he held her, too, the two of them clinging together as if time would whisk them apart if they gave it the slightest chance.
But time didn’t do that. Instead, the charges against Dustin were dropped, and he was allowed to walk free. Jamie held herself together until they were in her car, but the moment they were inside, she crumbled. As she succumbed to her tears, Dustin pulled her into his arms again.
He kissed her neck as he held her, then he pressed his forehead against hers and stroked the tears from her face. She knew before he moved his chin that he was going to kiss her, and she leaned into it and met him.
It was as though she fell headlong off a cliff, but it was a cliff she’d been running toward. She was ready for the drop.
When the kiss ended, he held her face against his. “I missed you all those years.”
She pulled back and looked at him. “Why didn’t you ever call?”
He closed his eyes. “You were with Joe, and it was brutal watching you fall for him. I had warned you, but you weren’t listening. And some part of me thought he was better for you than I was, anyway.”
“You knew better than that. You warned me about the drugs.”
“But you ignored it, so I told myself it was just a phase. He was from a good family, and he would have money and stability, and I couldn’t even finance my last year of college.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
“I was a mess when I joined the army.”
“I wanted to hear all about it. But you cut me off, and I grieved.” She pulled back to her own seat and took a tissue out of her purse. “When Joe died, I really needed you. But you didn’t call.”
“I didn’t call because I didn’t want to need you. But I did.”
She looked at him. “That doesn’t make any sense, Dustin. We were friends.”
“We were more than that,” he whispered. “And I’ve spent my whole life thinking I didn’t deserve any of what you were to me.”
She took his hand and brought it to her lips. “You did, though. And I did, too. It’s time to admit that.”
He kissed her again, and that sensation returned. She wondered if she would always feel this way, that free-falling-into-comfort feeling that seemed so nostalgic, even though it hadn’t happened until today. “I’m glad God brought us back together,” she said.
He smiled. “I do kind of wish he had chosen another way to do it. But I’ll take grace anywhere I can get it.”
As the two of them drove away from the police station, Jamie let reality sink in. The ordeal was over. But the rest of her life had just begun.
66
The night before Crystal’s funeral seemed to tick on forever. Dustin lay awake in his own bed, wishing he could feel the relief of freedom, but instead he felt deep sorrow over his friend’s death.
When dawn finally put the darkness out of its misery, he got up and showered, then dressed for the funeral. Wendy had called last night to tell him that Travis wouldn’t be allowed to attend Crystal’s service, but they were allowing him to witness it through a Zoom call.
Though Wendy had sounded strong, Dustin knew she was on the verge of collapse. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she said. “I never planned to bury my baby.”
Dustin had no idea what to say. “I know.”
“Can you help me at the visitation before the funeral? Since Travis isn’t going to be there, I need to know there’s someone to prop me up.”
“Of course,” he said. “And I can keep the kids corralled.”
“No, I’m getting a babysitter,” she said. “I don’t know how to explain any of this to them. They’re too young to understand. I don’t know if it’s the right thing, but I’ve been praying about it, and this is what I’ve come to.”
“Then I’m sure it’s the right choice.”
She got quiet, and he heard her soft crying over the line. “How will I get through this, Dustin?”
He sighed, wishing he had the answers. “I don’t know, but when I was in jail, I got through the night by going over and over the Twenty-Third Psalm. ‘He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters. He restores my soul.’ It gave me a little peace as I pictured the green pastures and calm waters. And it made me feel better to know there was restoration ahead.”
Wendy was quiet for a moment. “I sure hope you and Jamie get together,” she said. “You deserve a good woman in your life.”
Dustin smiled at the intuition Wendy had about the two of them, and he knew the restoration of his soul would be tied to his relationship with Jamie. “I think we are together,” he said.
“That makes me feel better,” she said. “You’re a good man, Dustin Webb.”
Despite the press conference the DA had given yesterday, announcing that Dustin had no part in the crimes his partner had committed, or in the mass murders committed by men he’d never met, all his company’s work for the rest of the year had already been canceled, work his business depended on. The tarnish would be hard to erase.
His mood was somber as he approached the funeral home, set back from the road in a grove of pines. The building seemed like a peaceful sanctuary from the rat race of everyday life. As he pulled into the parking lot, the sight of the place struck his heart in an old, tender spot he hadn’t expected to feel. He had forgotten that he’d been here once before. Years ago, when his parents died.
He pulled the car into a parking space, cut off the engine, and stared straight ahead at the doors through which he’d gone so many years ago. He’d held back his tears that day, trying his six-year-old best to buck up and be a man. He remembered that his rigid exterior hadn’t even crumbled when he’d seen his parents lying in their coffins, patched up and painted to hide the injuries of the car accident that had taken their lives . . . injuries that were never given the chance to heal.
It wasn’t until the coffins were closed that he’d lost control, and he remembered running out of the room and hiding in the bathroom, where he cried his heart out.
When he came out, the crowd was gone and the funeral procession had left him. No one had noticed he wasn’t there.
It was then that Dustin realized he was on his own. That feeling had driven him through the rest of his growing-up years.
He heaved a deep sigh and started up the steps to the funeral home. Unable to go in just yet, he walked around the building to the trees skirting it. He sat down on a bench for a moment, staring through the trees as another, stronger memory of his mom tugged at his heart.
He still remembered her scent, and the soft feel of her lips on his cheek as she tucked him in at night. He remembered, too, the love his father had
shown him when he went from wrestling on the floor with him to hugging him tight enough to squeeze the breath out of him. They had taught him and nurtured him carefully, as if they knew instinctively that those years would have to last Dustin the rest of his life.
He had never again experienced that kind of love, that unconditional acceptance. At least, not until he’d met the girl next door. Jamie had always made him feel he belonged. Even in her youth, she had pointed him toward the true belonging that his soul longed for—his belonging in the family of God. He hadn’t embraced faith until a few years after he left town, but her example had hit its mark.
Now he closed his eyes and prayed for his friend Travis, who faced years in prison, the loss of his wife, and estrangement from his children. Travis, who’d been such a friend to him until his wife got desperately ill. He prayed for Wendy as she would, today, bury her daughter and take over parenting her grandkids. He thanked God for Crystal’s life and all the humor and joy she had brought to Dustin.
When he finally felt strong enough to be of use to Wendy, he went to the doors. Wendy was waiting for him just inside the quiet front lobby.
“I decided to close the casket,” she said, bursting into tears as she spoke. “I knew I couldn’t stand there with people looking in at her and . . .”
Dustin hugged her and she went quiet. When she let him go, he pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her.
“Did I make the right decision?”
“You did if it’s right for you.”
She wiped her eyes carefully. “Look at me, falling apart, when you’ve been in jail and had your whole life turned upside down.”
“I’m fine,” he said. “This day isn’t about me. It’s about your family.”
“You’re part of the family,” she said, taking his hand and leading him to the room where the coffin waited. The moment Dustin saw it, he was glad it wasn’t open. Crystal had been so thin when she died, and he wanted to remember her with life in her eyes and a smile on her face, as she was in the picture Wendy had placed beside it.
Aftermath Page 22