by Roxie Noir
“That went well,” he says, surveying the scene. “I’m very pleased with the way we executed that plan.”
I’m still kneeling by Stone, my mind spinning. We need to get these men out of here, some to the hospital, some to questioning. We need to link them to the arson, and if Patricia can help, probably to a dozen other crimes in central California.
I wonder if one of them went to the Community College of the Sierras, I think. I’m tempted to ask right now, but I know I couldn’t use anything I learned.
Cedar walks in the door.
“SWAT’s coming up the path,” he says, then crouches next to me. “A few the hard way, most the easy way.”
Cedar looks at me, then at Stone.
“Don’t move him,” he says. “He could easily have spinal cord damage we don’t know about. Let the paramedics do it when they get here.”
“I know,” I say, slightly annoyed. “I’ve taken a million hours of rescue and first aid too.”
“Don’t get—”
Stone’s eyelids flicker, and we both shut up. His left eye is just about swollen shut, and his right doesn’t look good, but I think he can still see out of both.
“Don’t follow me,” he mumbles.
It’s hard to tell, but I don’t think his eyes are moving in sync. I reach out and stroke his forehead, the only part that doesn’t look too bruised, with my fingertips.
“You’re okay,” I whisper. “I brought help.”
“I tried,” Stone murmurs.
When the paramedics get there, they put Stone into a neck brace and load him onto a back board. He’s awake the whole time, mumbling things that don’t quite make sense and trying to stand on his own. Eventually they have to strap him down to get him to stay still, and I hate it, but it’s miles better than letting him break his own neck.
They check me out, too, but aside from the bruises and scrapes I got climbing the mountain, I’m fine. A little shaken and a little dazed, but fine.
The paramedics have to take Stone and the thug whose leg got broken down the long way, because neither was deemed dire enough for the helicopter. I walk next to them, talking to them and talking to Stone, even though he’s really, really out of it.
Finally, we’re back at the SUVs, except the crappy dirt road is lined with vehicles now: ambulances, forest service trucks, two more San Luis Obispo County SUVs, and a bunch of unmarked Jeeps. I’m surprised that the Chief didn’t consider this excuse to get out the assault tank.
Before they put Stone into the ambulance, I kiss him on the forehead as gently as I can and force myself not to cry. He opens his good eye and looks at me.
“Hey,” he mumbles. “Luna. Detective.”
“Hey,” I whisper. I know half the police department is up here, probably watching me, but I don’t give a shit.
Let them watch. The whole messy truth is more or less on display anyway.
“You’re gonna be fine,” he says, his eye drifting closed again.
I laugh, biting the inside of my lip so I don’t cry.
Then they push him inside and close the doors. They don’t bother turning on the lights, because they’re in the middle of a forest at dawn, and it’s not like there’s traffic to get through.
I watch the ambulance until it disappears. I feel like someone is wringing all the water out of me, twisting and twisting until I’m spent.
I still haven’t cried. Somehow, through some miracle, I’ve kept it together. Maybe it’s because I’m with my coworkers, maybe it’s because Stone is so fucked up and I’m fine, I don’t feel like I deserve to cry.
There’s an arm around my shoulder, and I look over into my older brother’s face. He jerks his thumb at a forest service vehicle.
“They’re going to Tortuga General,” he says. “You want a ride?”
We get in, and before he starts the engine, Cedar looks over at me. Then he leans over, puts both arms around me, and holds me tight even though it’s awkward in the front seat of a car.
I burst into tears on his shoulder.
“Shh,” he says, stroking my hair with one hand. “It’s over. It’s fine. You’re gonna be fine.”
“What if he’s not?” I say. I’m nearly unintelligible, trying hard not to sob and failing. “What if he’s fucked up and can’t move or his back is broken—” I sniffle hard, “—or he can’t talk because he got brain damage and it’s my fault for not getting there earlier?”
I push the back of my wrist over my eyes, trying to dry them. It doesn’t work.
“I don’t think it was that bad,” Cedar says, using his most soothing voice. “He wasn’t unconscious for very long, he was trying to talk and move. He was loopy, that’s all.”
I sniffle again.
“If you’d listened during the first aid classes you claim you took, you’d know that,” he says, in the same soothing voice.
“Dickbag,” I tell Cedar, still resting my head on his shoulder.
“Cockwaffle,” he says.
“Assmonkey.”
“Boobface.”
“Butthair.”
Cedar’s shaking slightly, laughing, and I take a deep breath.
“He’ll be fine,” Cedar says. “You got there just in time. And I shot that lightbulb like a pro, even though you thought I couldn’t.”
“Yeah, you really saved the day, sharpshooter,” I mutter.
“I know,” he says, like he’s taking me seriously.
If nothing else, I can always count on brothers to annoy me into forgetting my problems.
“Okay,” I say, using the sleeve of the shirt I borrowed from Miranda to dry my face. I clear my throat. “Okay. Hospital. Let’s go.”
When I get to the hospital, I feel like I can barely keep it together. I’ve been up all night doing crazy shit, and I didn’t exactly get a lot of sleep the night before, either. All I can think about, over and over, is Stone’s head on that concrete floor, his eyes sliding in opposite directions.
It’s my fault, I think, over and over again. I should have moved faster, I shouldn’t have waited for so many people. I should have realized that SWAT team was heading to the wrong place sooner.
Then we wait. The woman behind the desk will only say that Stone’s been admitted, and since we’re not on his visitor list, she isn’t permitted to say any more than that while he’s still considered in critical condition.
The words critical condition don’t make me feel better, and she clams right up.
After an hour, Cedar stands up.
“Take a walk,” he says.
“Why?”
“Because you’re twitchier than a two-year-old on meth, and you’re driving me crazy,” he says.
“Do you know a lot of two-year-olds on meth?”
“There’s a path around the hospital,” he says, not taking the bait. “Go. Now.”
I cross my arms and look up at him. Then he grins.
“I’ll tell Mom you gave me a gun,” he says.
I narrow my eyes.
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me, Loony.”
I stand and point one finger in Cedar’s face.
“I’ll take a walk, but I will not relax,” I say.
He just ruffles my hair. I smack his hand away, then go outside.
The walk kind of helps. I’m still ten kinds of keyed up, still terrified that I’m going to see Stone and he’s going to hate me, or blame me, or worse, not know who I am, but going for a walk at least gives me something new to look at.
When I get back, my parents are there, and Cedar hands me a giant cup of coffee.
“My God, sweetheart,” my mom says, pulling me back down into a chair.
“This is the mechanic, right?” asks my dad.
I just nod, sipping coffee. I don’t know how it’s going to make me seem less like a toddler on meth, but that’s Cedar’s problem.
“And he got kidnapped?” my mom asks, looking very worried. “He really seemed like such a gentle soul.”
I can’t even deal with that statement right now, so I take a long, long drink of coffee, then look at my parents and Cedar.
“He was in prison for stealing cars and informed on an international criminal organization before going into witness protection,” I say.
My mom frowns. My dad sort of shrugs and nods, like yeah, that happens.
“He was in prison?” my mom says, very carefully.
I nod and drink more coffee. Then I start from the beginning, skipping the dirty parts.
Halfway through, just as I’m telling them about Stone having me meet Tony, Raine comes in.
“Hey, guys,” he says. “How’s...”
He trails off, obviously trying to think of Stone’s name.
“Your... friend?” he finally asks.
“They won’t tell me,” I say.
My coffee is finished, and I’m slowly tearing apart the paper mug it came in, the dregs staining my fingers.
Raine frowns and looks over at the desk.
“Who, Nancy?” he says.
“I don’t know, is that her name?” I say, feeling exasperated and then feeling bad for feeling that way.
“Hold on a sec,” Raine says, and walks over to the desk.
We all watch as he goes up to the middle-aged woman behind it, then leans over the counter toward her, just slightly, and says something.
Nancy smiles. Raine grins. Nancy puts one hand on her chest and laughs, then tucks her hair behind her ear. Raine points at her and says something, still smiling.
Then she waves at him, and he turns and walks through a double door, glancing quickly at us.
My parents, Cedar, and I are all quiet a moment.
“Did Raine just flirt his way in there?” I finally ask.
“I think he did,” Cedar says, sounding completely baffled. “He does work here, though...”
We just look at each other.
“Finish your story,” my mom says.
I finish, though I rush through the end, with all the shooting and the violence and the part where Cedar and I both kind of put our lives in danger. Just as I do, Raine comes back out, winks at Nancy, and walks over to us.
“Stone, right?” he asks. “Sideburns and tattoos?”
“Yes, the guy you met when you locked my keys in my car,” I say, trying not to be impatient.
“You did that again?” Cedar asks.
I smack him on the arm, because he’s getting off track.
“Yeah, he’s fine,” Raine says, shrugging. “Looks like hell, though.”
Relief washes over me like a cold wave, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding in.
Raine pauses.
“Is that the guy we... talked... about?” he asks, as unsubtly as humanly possible.
I close my eyes and pretend he didn’t ask that.
“Any details?” I say. “Did they say when he can have visitors? Is he getting questioned? Did Mohr and Larson collect the evidence yet? Is he competent for that right now?”
I don’t get to investigate this particular case, given that I’m way too involved.
“Slow down, Loony,” Raine says. “They’re in there now, and he’s talking to them. Seems a little loopy, but he’s concussed pretty badly, and there might have been damage to his optic nerve, because apparently someone pistol-whipped him right in the temple?”
My eyes fill with tears, and Raine looks alarmed.
“It’s probably fine, though,” he says. “They just want to keep him for a few days. And also his shoulder’s dislocated, and his rib might be fractured.”
“That’s ‘fine’?” Cedar says.
“Well, he’ll be fine,” Raine says. “All that stuff will heal, probably.”
I sit back down and put my face in my hands, taking deep breaths.
All that stuff will heal, I think, over and over again. He’s answering questions now, he’s not a vegetable.
“Oh, and he’s got an eye patch so he totally looks like a pirate,” Raine adds, saying it like it’s a bonus.
The doors to the waiting room open again, and my third brother Skye walks through. He stops in front of the five of us, his hands in his pockets, and looks around.
“Luna shot a bunch of mafia guys and her boyfriend’s in the hospital?” he asks.
I sigh and start telling the whole story all over again.
40
Stone
I lean my head back against the hospital pillows and fight the fog in my brain. I feel like I’m thinking at half-speed, and even though I’m trying to answer questions, I feel like my mouth is on a five-second delay from my brain.
“I don’t remember,” I finally say, even though I feel like I’m speaking under water. “I don’t think he mentioned who he was working for. But I had to make a video.”
The man asking me questions just nods, his partner jotting down notes in a notebook. I wonder why he isn’t Luna, why she’s not the one investigating this. She’s better at detecting, and she was there for a lot of it, she knows what happened.
“Did they say anything else that stuck out to you?” he asks.
I open my good eye again. They put an eye patch over the other one, because they’re afraid that it’s damaged and light-sensitive, though it’s pretty much swollen shut anyway.
I wait for the time delay to pass before I speak.
“Hammer called one of the guys Red,” I say, slowly. “Red was a dick.”
They ask something else, but I’ve stopped listening. I just want Luna, because I want to see her, I want to make sure she’s okay. After we got to the bunker with the camcorder my memory gets fuzzy, and I can only remember flashes and shards of what happened.
I know the roof caved in. I know Tony was there. I remember throwing a chair at someone, I think, and I remember Luna’s face in front of mine.
But I think she carried me down a mountain? I think she told me a long story from her childhood about the time a flock of chickens escaped their pens and took her on a magical adventure?
That last part might not be real. It’s California, though. Chickens might take children here on magic adventures. I don’t know.
They’re looking at me like they’re expecting an answer. Shit. I wasn’t listening.
Say ‘what,’ I think.
I wait for my mouth to work.
“What?” I say.
They glance at each other. A nurse comes in and gives them a look.
“We can pick this up again later,” one of the detectives says. “Thanks, Mr. Williams. Get well.”
I wait.
“Thanks,” my mouth finally says.
They leave, but the nurse stays, bustling around, fixing something down by my feet.
“Can I see people?” I finally manage to ask her. “Am I done with the police stuff?”
It’s been hours. First they took me off the board and gave me x-rays, and while I’m obviously not in great shape, nothing is broken. Then they examined me. Then they took a ton of pictures for evidence. Then I answered questions for ages, though they’re waiting until I’m a little more lucid until I give a formal statement.
I keep asking for Luna, and they keep saying soon, but she hasn’t materialized yet. I’m starting to worry that she’s not here, that she finally decided I was too much trouble.
She’d be justified. I’ve been nothing but trouble for her almost since we met, but this is a weird time to decide it. After everything goes down.
“Mr. Williams,” the nurse says.
Shit, I forgot to pay attention again.
“You can have visitors briefly, but you need to rest,” she says. “You’ve got a pretty serious concussion.”
I swallow. It hurts.
“Luna?” I ask.
“I’ll go see if she’s here,” the nurse says, and leaves.
I glance down at myself. My wrists are red, purple, and blue, and I’m missing a lot of arm hair. Not that you can tell much because of the tattoos.
See, I think. They’re useful.
“Hey,” says Luna’s voice from the doorway.
I smile, even though it hurts.
“Hey,” I say. I pat the bed next to me with the arm that’s not in a sling. “C’mere.”
Luna walks over, and even though she’s blurry and has sparkles rushing around her face, I feel like everything hurts less when she’s here.
She brushes her lips across my forehead gently, and I can hear her take a deep breath before she sits next to me on the bed. My brain still feels like a bucket with holes in it, like all my thoughts are rushing out before I can corral them properly, but right now it also feels warm and mushy as Luna carefully takes my hand.
“I’m okay,” I say, trying to reassure her.
Luna raises her eyebrows and tries not to look amused.
“No, you’re not,” she says. “Stone, you look like a fucked up pirate grape right now.”
I smile again. It hurts. I smile anyway and try not to laugh.
“A sexy fucked up pirate grape?” I ask, raising one eyebrow.
That also hurts.
“I’m not really a grapeosexual,” she says.
“Do those exist?”
“I’m sure they do,” Luna says. “The world’s a big place. There’s someone into everything.”
I squeeze her hand. She squeezes back.
“Are you okay?” I ask softly.
Luna just nods.
“I’m fine,” she says.
“Good,” I say.
Someone pops their head into the room, and Luna turns.
“He should get some rest,” the nurse says.
“Sure, one more minute,” Luna says, and the nurse leaves. Luna looks back at me.
“We’re gonna string those fuckers up,” she says, her voice soft but serious.
“Hammer?” I ask.
“Hammer, and his fucking goons, and the people who sent Hammer here,” she goes on.
My vision’s still blurry, but I can see her golden brown eyes flash.
“You gonna avenge me?” I murmur.
I expect her to laugh, but she doesn’t. She just looks at me, and even though I can’t see her clearly, something about the expression on her face cuts me to the bone.
“I hate them for this,” she says, her voice nearly a whisper. “I’d shoot every one of them myself for doing this to you, Stone. They can’t come here, to my town, terrorize my people, threaten to kill me and then kidnap my—”