“Hold him still. We’ll be fine,” I said, though I wasn’t sure I believed it.
It took twenty minutes from the time we left to the time we pulled up outside the ER. I yelled for help and men and women in coats rushed out with a stretcher. Nurses too. They lifted Timothy out of the back of the truck, blood smeared the seat.
“Is he going to be okay?” Jerry asked, and grabbed one of the nurse’s by the arm. “Is he going to be –?”
“It’s too early to tell,” she replied, then turned to me. “Sir, how did this happen?”
I was frozen, staring at her, torn between throwing that asshole under the bus and maintaining the integrity of the Navy SEALs. “One of my officers beat him,” I replied.
Jerry jerked around. “What? You told me you didn’t know.”
Timothy had already been wheeled into the ER. The nurse remained behind. “I’ll need someone to enter his information into a sheet.”
“I’ll do it,” Jerry said, still glaring at me, hatred beaming from him. Fuck, this was it, wasn’t it? This was how I’d finally lose my post at the base. Lose everything, and potentially have a young man’s death on my hands.
“Follow me,” the nurse said.
“Wait, ma’am? Do you have a phone I can use? I need to call the police and report this incident.” I barely managed to keep my voice from trembling. I had to report what I’d seen. Jack deserved to be behind bars for what he’d done.
“Right this way,” the nurse said.
Chapter 19
Chanel
Ryan’s vehicle pulled up outside the base at the crack of dawn. Most of the soldiers were already awake and busy going about their business. I’d hardly slept a wink, spending the night obsessing over the storm and the dangers Ryan faced.
I hovered in the hallway outside his office door, waiting, twisting the spine of my portfolio this way and that. He was all right, he came back, but a sense of foreboding had settled on me last night and I couldn’t rid myself of it.
Something had gone wrong.
Dad told me to trust my gut and it hadn’t failed me yet. If something felt wrong, it was bound to be.
Nerves built, I tapped my foot on the tiles outside his office and grimaced at the gray that surrounded me. Yeah, no wonder the troops here weren’t in high spirits. The interior of the base was the color of clouds and depression.
I’d only witnessed one color scheme worse than this in my life, and that was at an old age home. Everything was puce or yellow.
“Come on, come on,” I hissed.
Angry shouts radiated from the end of the corridor and I remained in place, listening hard now.
“– Sir?”
“What do you mean?” That was Ryan, shouting. But he never lost his cool. Not like this.
I took a single step toward the source of commotion.
Ryan charged around the corner and toward his office. He spotted me, but didn’t seem to register my presence or the thin smile I sent him.
Petty Officer Jameson followed him, her mouth drawn into a horizontal slash. “I’m sorry, Sir, he hasn’t been back. I thought you’d return together.”
What the hell was this about? I backed away from the door, just as Ryan reached it and barreled through into his office without so much as a ‘hey, what’s happening.’ Jameson ducked her head in my direction – oh good, so I wasn’t totally invisible then – and entered right behind him.
“This is unacceptable,” Ryan said, from inside.
The draw to enter and find out what the heck had happened was too strong. I teetered on my practical heels, straightened my blouse. I’d chosen something smart but tight for his return to base. A part of me had hoped to entice him again.
I peeked around the door jamb.
Jameson stood with her hands behind her back in the classic ‘at ease’ position, though the rod of tension in her shoulders belied how she truly felt.
“I need you to find out if he’s come back,” Ryan said. “Check his bedroom. I need to organize a call with Commander Shepherd.”
“Sir? May I ask what’s going on?”
“Yes,” he said, “unfortunately, I couldn’t reach the base by telephone.”
“Everything’s down.” Jameson’s voice held that unanswered question.
“It’s Petty Officer Whitmore,” Ryan said, “he committed aggravated assault last night. Possible assault and battery. Against a civilian.”
“Christ,” Jameson hissed. “Sorry, Sir.”
“My sentiments exactly. Please, find him. Check his quarters. Turn his bunk upside if you have to. Find out where he is or where he might be headed.”
I shuddered. Whitmore beat up a civilian last night? In Meek Springs. God, if this didn’t bring down the wrath of the town on the base, nothing else would. What the hell happened last night?
Jameson shuttled out of the office and down the hall without a backward glance. Off to track down Jack.
I’d been up all night and there hadn’t been any other vehicles to or from the base. We were shut down here, as they were in town. Curiosity got the better of me and I rapped on the jamb. “Lieutenant Commander?”
“Come in,” he said, without looking up from his laptop. “Close the door behind you, please.”
I did as I was told, then went to the desk, hovering beside the chair. “What happened, Ryan?” I asked. “I was worried about you.”
He typed furiously, his fingers bolting over the keys. “That fucking bastard, Jack,” he grunted. “He beat up –”
“A civilian,” I said.
“Not just any civilian,” Ryan replied, and tapped enter with a flourish. He met my gaze, and the anger there actually made me take a step back. I’d never seen him like this before. He looked ready to rip things apart. I didn’t envy Whitmore.
“What? Who did he hurt?”
“Timothy.”
“Huh?” I blinked three times in rapid succession. “Timothy? Timothy? Blond – hair?” I gestured at my head with the portfolio. “That Timothy?”
“Yes, the kid who likes you,” Ryan replied.
“Oh my God.” I sank into the chair in front of the desk, knees shaking. “Is he okay?”
“He’s in the hospital. I drove him there last night after I found him bloodied and bruised in the alley next to the bar.”
“You two were at the bar when it happened? Did a fight break out?” Try as I might I couldn’t picture Timothy picking a fight with two soldiers. He just wasn’t the type. He had the bravado of twenty college football players, but he wasn’t a dumbass. He knew when he was out of his depth.
“No,” Ryan said. “Jack beat him up in an alley outside of the bar. I believe the attack was unprovoked.”
“But how do you know it was Jack?”
Ryan hesitated and focused on the laptop screen instead of me. He ground his teeth. “Because I saw him run away from Timothy’s body.”
“Body?” I squeaked. “What are you saying? Is Timothy dead?”
“No,” Ryan said, “thank Christ. He’s alive. He’s in Cregton General, but he’s in a coma thanks to that fucking idiot.”
“I don’t understand why Jack would do this,” I said, and shook my head. “I mean, what’s going to happen now?”
“Assuming we can find him, he’s going to be arrested and courtmartialed and put in fucking military prison.” Ryan hadn’t stopped shivering since he entered the office. I’d never seen him this tense, not that I’d known him all that long.
Timothy. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Timothy in a coma because a Navy SEAL attacked him. He was lucky he was alive. Whitmore was trained to kill. “But why?”
“I don’t – It’s something to do with me,” Ryan said. “He’s doing this to discredit me somehow. Look, I didn’t want to mention it, but, yeah he told me he did it for me seconds before he ran off.”
“He did it for you?”
“Yeah, and he spent most of the night trying to talk to me about you,” Ryan said.
How could this be happening? Did Jack have a death wish? Did he believe that this would hurt Ryan, rather than himself? “This is ridiculous. Surely, he can’t be that crazy. He can’t seriously think that he’ll get away with this.”
“I can’t fathom what he’s thinking right now. I can’t believe this happened. He wasn’t even drunk. I know he wasn’t. We only had a drink a piece.”
“And he’s just gone now? He’s disappeared?” I asked.
“Yes,” Ryan replied, “he’s gone.”
That horrible sensation twirled around in my gut. This wasn’t over and it wouldn’t be until Jack was behind bars. If he did it, he had to believe that he’d get away with it somehow. “Did anyone else see him do it?” I asked. “Any of the other townies?”
“No. They only saw me standing over Timothy’s body. And then I drove him over to the hospital. I didn’t think the ambulance would get to Meek Springs in time.”
He was right about that. Once, mom suffered from appendicitis and she almost died because the ambulance took their sweet time getting into town. Dad went ballistic and drove her out himself. I stayed behind and held down the fort as he insisted I was the only one strong enough to do it.
“It’s your word against his,” I said. “What if they try to pin it on you? What if –?”
“I can’t think of what ifs, now, Chanel.” He raised a palm and pushed it toward me. “I’m sorry, but I need some time alone to sort this out.”
“That’s fine. I understand,” I said, and rose from the seat. “If you need anything from me, just let me know.” I didn’t bother asking if he managed to get his hands on what I needed, what he’d gone for in the first place. He was too stressed.
“I had one of the officers place your supplies and clothes in your quarters,” Ryan said, “I hope that’s suitable.”
He hadn’t forgotten. All this going on and he hadn’t forgotten me. “Thank you. I appreciate that. Seriously, Ryan, call me if you need anything.”
His desk phone trilled and I took that as my second cue to leave.
I slipped out of the office, just as Ryan snatched the receiver from its base. I shut the door behind me with a click, then leaned against the wood and inhaled, deeply.
Timothy was in hospital and on some level this had to be my fault. He’d had a crush on me and now he was in a hospital bed. “Wait a second,” I whispered, “how the hell did Jack even know about Timothy?” Surely, Ryan hadn’t told him. They were hardly friends and he spent most of his time with me prior to heading into Meek Springs. “Then how?”
I pushed off from the wall, burning up, now. This couldn’t be my fault. I didn’t want to take responsibility for what happened to Tim. He wasn’t a bad guy, even if he’d been a little pushy.
I charged down the hall, past men and women in uniform, heading in various directions. News of Jack’s incident had clearly spread. They rushed past, harried expressions on their usually blank faces.
I spotted Jameson turning the corner and heading toward me. She nodded again, but didn’t say a word. Perhaps, she was headed back to Ryan’s office to report on Jack.
I buried the mental question marks and streaked down the corridor toward my quarters. I bashed inside once I reached them, ignored the pile of requested goods on the floor beside my bed, and reached for my cell.
I dialed Paula’s number, then pressed the phone to my ear, dumping my portfolio on the table. The phone rang and I crossed my fingers. There had to be an explanation for this.
“Hello?” Paula yawned into the receiver.
“Did you tell Jack about Timothy?” I blurted it out because it couldn’t stay in any longer.
“What? What the hell are you talking about, ma? It’s like 2am.”
“It’s six,” I snapped, “and wake up quick, girl. Timothy’s in hospital?”
“What?” Paula squawked. That had her attention. “The Timothy? Timothy who likes you?”
“Yes, him,” I said. “Jack Whitmore beat him up last night. Did you tell Jack anything about him? About Timothy liking me?”
“What? Of course, not. Dude, I haven’t spoken to Jack since your first little romance with Ryan.” Paula slurped down water on her end of the line. “Ugh, do you think that’s why he did it?”
“Maybe, I don’t know. Ryan thinks Jack did it to get back at him. Shit, I probably shouldn’t even talk to you about this.” Baker certainly wouldn’t approve of me blurting it out. How many people knew about it? Likely, enough that rumors would spread around Meek Springs by the time morning coffee had cooled.
“I can’t believe it. Maybe he liked you, Chanel. What if he did it because he was jealous of Timothy?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know,” I whispered. “Listen, Paula, I’ve got to go. It’s chaos here at the moment. I’ve got to –” but what did I have to do? Work? How could I under these circumstances? I was worried sick about Timothy and what would happen if he didn’t recover.
“Say no more,” Paula said, “I’ve got to get up and get ready for work anyway. Be safe up there. Don’t let the super soldiers experiment on you.”
“Hilarious.” I hung up without saying goodbye. Paula wouldn’t mind, she’d understand the state I was in.
I sighed and sank into the chair in front of my desk. Gray clouds drifted past outside my window, a fine drizzle still fell, but the torrent of last night was gone, and there hadn’t been any snow.
Of all the things I expected would go wrong, this wasn’t one of them. What was I supposed to do now?
Chapter 20
Ryan
“What the fuck is going on down there?” Commander Shepherd never swore, but the word came out anyway, and with gravelly precision. “You’re asking me to have one of your Petty Officers arrested?”
“Yes, Sir,” I replied. I inhaled, then told the Commander what happened in concise sentences. I stuck to the facts and didn’t allow emotion to enter my voice, though it was a struggle.
Jack had committed a crime I couldn’t fathom – he endangered the life of a civilian. We were sworn to protect this country and its people. It was a vow I’d always taken seriously, but Jack, who’d gone through the same training I had, must’ve avoided that deep sense of obligation.
I continued the tale of what happened, down to the call I made to the local police, then cleared my throat to signal I was done.
“That’s it?” Commander Shepherd asked. “Boy, I thought we had a sexual assault case on our hands.”
“With all due respect, Commander, this isn’t something I take lightly.”
“Nor do I. Which is why I’m going to advise you call the police and instruct them to direct their energies elsewhere.”
“W-what?” I clenched my fist. He couldn’t be serious. “I saw him, Commander Shepherd. I saw Petty Officer Whitmore standing over Timothy’s body with my own two eyes.”
“But no one else did,” Shepherd replied. “Relax, Baker, I can hear you going into cardiac arrest from over here. Listen to me carefully now, we cannot afford to involve the local police in military business. Especially, when the situation in that backwater town is so volatile.”
“He beat the living crap out of him,” I said, then added, “Sir.”
“Language, Baker. And so you say, but we can’t put Whitmore behind bars until we have unequivocal proof that he committed the crime.”
“Sir, there’s a young man in a hospital bed in Cregton. If that’s not proof then –”
“A young man in a coma,” Shepherd said. “It would be very unwise to purport Petty Officer Whitmore’s supposed involvement in a crime when we don’t have physical evidence. As I understand it, the situation there is volatile.”
Good fuck, it was about to get a whole lot more volatile in a minute. I’d fucking explode and blow the roof off my office if Shepherd didn’t take this seriously. “Sir, I understand your concern, but Whitmore is an animal.”
“Then put him on the base. Confine him to his quarters. No
leaving the officer’s quarters under any circumstance. Shit, Baker, I don’t care if you put bars on his windows. Do not let this get out of control or you will regret it. Do you understand, soldier?”
“Yes, Sir,” I said. “But I believe the situation is already out of control. As I said, those men witnessed me standing beside Timothy in the alley.”
“Yes, but they didn’t actually see Whitmore beating him, did they?”
“No?”
“Or you?”
“Sir, I didn’t touch –”
“Regardless, there’s no proof it was anyone associated with the United States Navy. Now, I will ensure that a full investigation is conducted into what occurred in that alleyway last night, Baker. I will ensure that the due course of justice is served, but I will not court-martial an active officer without good reason in the current political climate. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Sir,” I replied, and resisted the urge to slam my fists onto the desk repeatedly like a fucking ape man. I understood, sure, but I didn’t have to like it. I saw what I saw, and that was Jack’s bloodied, split knuckles and the flash of triumph in his eyes. Did he know that Shepherd would respond this way?
“You have your orders now, Baker. Make this go away. Make it work. Or I’ll move you to somewhere else. You don’t need another incident on your record.” He hung up.
I slammed the receiver down so hard a chip of plastic flew off the side of the phone. “Christ,” I howled. It was the most out of control I’d been in years. This was utter bullshit. Whitmore viciously attacked a civilian, and I had to call off the search for him? Call off the cops?
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I muttered, and kicked my trash can.
A knock at my office door, and the knob turned.
“In, come in. What is it?” I yelled.
Petty Officer Jameson reappeared. “No sign of him, Lieutenant Commander,” she said.
It was a kick to the balls, only slightly less painful than the one Shepherd had just given me. “We have to find him. But first, put in a call to the local police and tell them that the military is going to handle this situation. He’s one of our own.”
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