The Girl In The Sand
Page 31
Darger almost choked on her own tongue.
“My mother? Who called my mother?”
Owen put his hands up defensively.
“Don’t look at me. That’s all on your partner.”
“Fuck me. She’s going to flip when she sees my big ugly potato head.”
They talked a little more, but eventually the morning round of narcotics started to kick in, and Darger started to fade.
“Trying to stay awake,” she said, eyelids fluttering.
“Go ahead and sleep.”
She felt Owen’s lips brush the little scar near her eyebrow.
“I’ll be here.”
* * *
When Darger woke again, Loshak was back in his chair, paper in hand. Her mother was there too, flitting around the room, fussing over her, over everything. She was too tired to make out the particulars of what her mom was saying, still fading in and out of consciousness for most of it. She was thankful for that.
Some time later, Owen came in, and that roused her some. She introduced him to her mother.
“I can’t remember the last time I got to meet one of Violet’s boyfriends.”
Darger rolled her eyes.
“Oh Jesus. I thought maybe getting half my head blown off would get me some respite from the motherly nagging, but no.”
Pursing her lips, Darger’s mother turned and gave her a pointed look.
“I don’t like that kind of talk.”
“When did you get so devout?”
“Not that,” her mother said, eyes starting to water. “That nastiness about your head getting blown off. It’s not funny.”
Owen, a southern gentleman all the way, guided her to a chair and helped her sit.
“I was so worried. And I couldn’t get a flight! They kept putting me on standby, but all the planes were full. I finally had to fly all the way down to Dallas, but we were late, so I missed the connecting flight. It was a nightmare. And the whole time, I kept thinking about what if something happened, and I wasn’t here.”
Darger glanced at Loshak, trying to tell him with her eyes that he should get her mother out of here before she went into full hysterics. But he either didn’t understand or was choosing to ignore her pleading looks.
“It’s OK, mom. I’m OK.”
“No, you’re not!” she wailed. “Please tell me you’re through with this, Violet. You promised me after Ohio that nothing like that would ever happen again, but since then your life has been one disaster after the next. You can’t continue on like this. There are plenty of jobs at the FBI that don’t put you in the… the line of fire like this.”
Darger closed her eyes. She could explain to her mother that she might not have a choice. That if the doctors were right, if her left arm was lame or she needed a cane to walk, she wouldn’t be allowed back in the field.
But her mother’s talk only made her realize how committed she was to her job. Not to the FBI, but to the victims. Fuck what the doctors said. She was going to do every damn thing she had to do to get back out there. It would take more than a bullet to the head to stop Violet Darger from hunting the Leonard Stumps of the world.
“Mom, can we not talk about this right now?”
Her mother swiveled in her seat, fixing her gaze on Loshak.
“You’re her partner. Tell her. She never listens to me.”
Loshak sighed.
“Ma’am, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but she doesn’t listen to anybody.”
The Violet Darger series
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Dead End Girl (Book 1)
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Image in a Cracked Mirror (A Violet Darger Novella)
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Killing Season (Book 2)
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The Last Victim (A Violet Darger Novella)
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The Girl in the Sand (Book 3)
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The Scattered and the Dead series
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Casting Shadows Everywhere
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The Clowns
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Tim McBain writes because life is short, and he wants to make something awesome before he dies. Additionally, he likes to move it, move it.
You can connect with Tim on Twitter at @realtimmcbain or via email at tim@timmcbain.com.
L.T. Vargus grew up in Hell, Michigan, which is a lot smaller, quieter, and less fiery than one might imagine. When not click-clacking away at the keyboard, she can be found sewing, fantasizing about food, and rotting her brain in front of the TV.
If you want to wax poetic about pizza or cats, you can contact L.T. (the L is for Lex) at ltvargus9@gmail.com or on Twitter @ltvargus.
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