“Dispatch, we’re in pursuit of Brooks Strather, near the bottoms on the S-curves going south. He’s in excess of ninety miles an hour,” I shake my head as I glance at the speedometer. Looking over at Ace, I’m disgusted. “He’s going to kill himself or someone else.”
Again silence takes over the cab of the car. All those Monsters I’ve drank and the coffee I’ve had is rolling through my system as I white-knuckle the console and the handle at my side, sending up a prayer they tell us to stop this pursuit. Nothing about this feels good.
“He’s outta control,” Ace mumbles as he attempts to both keep up and maintain a safe distance back from the truck.
I watch in horror as Brooks gets too far to the right, his passenger side rear tire off the road. “Don’t yank that fuckin’ wheel!” I scream out at him, knowing he can’t hear me. I’m pressing an imaginary break in the floorboard, wanting to stop him as I see him overcorrect.
“He’s lost it,” Ace grimaces as he slows and both of us watch whatever’s about to happen in what feels like slow motion.
“Dispatch suspect has wrecked – oh fuck!”
Out of the blind spot on the curve another truck appears northbound right as Brooks crosses the yellow line. They hit head on, pieces of wreckage flying everywhere. It feels like it takes two hours for the two vehicles to come to a stop as we watch one of them barrel roll. “Be advised dispatch we have two. I repeat two cars involved in this accident. Suspect hit another truck going estimated eighty to ninety miles an hour head on. We need assistance.”
Ace pulls our car at an angle, blocking the road until another unit can get there. “You go to Brooks, I’ll check on the other one,” I unbuckle my seat belt and take off at a run, adrenaline pumping through my veins. I hate accidents, but it’s a part of the job we have to deal with.
The truck has turned in the opposite direction and the back is now facing me, the mass of metal sitting on the driver’s side. For a moment I take in what’s left of the back windshield and of the tailgate. Something looks damn familiar to me, and that’s when I see it.
It’s Tank’s truck. He’s the only person I know with a ‘lake life’ sticker on the back, right next to one that says ‘I brake for Auburn fans – so I can talk to them about their life choices’.
My throat drops into my stomach and my stomach drops somewhere around my knees. I gag as I try not to throw up, but everything I’ve had today is threatening to show itself.
“Dispatch,” I key the radio again, this time not able to recognize my own voice. “Be advised the other person involved is one of ours off-duty. Get help here a-fuckin’-sap.”
Immediately I know I want to get to him, assess the damage. I’ve done it in a war zone, I know without a doubt I can do it for my best friend. The wind has picked up on this overcast day and there’s a storm coming, it’s rocking the truck, and suddenly it rolls completely over. The driver’s side is no longer resting in the ground.
I’m running as fast as I can, and when I get to the driver’s side door, I feel bile rise up in my throat again. Tank’s out cold, and he’s at a weird angle.
“Don’t fuckin’ do this to me,” I whisper, hands shaking as I dig through the mud, grabbing the handle, but the door doesn’t budge when I try to open it.
Tears spring to my eyes and I tell myself not to show the emotion, to keep my shit together because that’s what Tank needs right now. Getting up, I run to the back. The tailgate is a tangled mess, but it’s twisted enough that I can see to squeeze up through there and go in through the back window.
Laying on the ground, I realize I haven’t done this type of shit since BASIC. Shimmying halfway up, I curse because with my vest on, I’m not going to fit. For the first time since I found out about Stella, I’m taking it off on-duty. But I have to check on my friend, make sure my daughter’s uncle is okay.
Ripping my shirt off and unhooking the vest, leaving my undershirt on to protect me from the elements. I lay back on the ground and start my shimmy again. This time I fit, and thank God I’m not claustrophobic. If I were this would be hell. Getting to the back window, I test the glass and see it’s partway broken. Unhooking my nightstick from my side, I extend it and push against the glass, hooking it in a hole, and pulling it back towards me. It falls, but not on the side Tank is on. If anyone’s going to get cut up, it’s me.
Turning my body in ways I’ve never known it would go, I wiggle myself in, and finally reach Tank. My world stops in this moment because I’m not sure if he’s breathing. I can’t hear it, and that scares me more than anything.
“Trevor, wake up, wake up,” I plead, using two fingers to search for a pulse. It takes forever to find one, and once I do, it’s erratic, but I’ll take what I can get.
“Dispatch advise EMS the officer has a very weak pulse and is trapped inside the wreckage. I’m kind of in here, but we’re gonna need the jaws of life to get him out.”
Putting the radio to my side, I take stock of what’s going on. His breathing is just as erratic as his heartbeat, but I say a little thank you that he’s breathing. Now I can hear it, but it’s a wheeze that makes me more worried, if that’s even possible. “Don’t you give up on me, Trev. Please don’t give up on me. You have a niece to meet. When I finally convince Whitney to marry me, I’m gonna need a best man. Don’t you dare fuckin’ give up on me.”
It’s then I feel the wetness of the tears streaming down my face. We’ve been to war and back, we’ve been on many dangerous calls as police officers and members of the Moonshine Task Force. I’ll be damned if I let my best friend die on the side of the road because some little piece of shit couldn’t obey a speed limit.
“Ryan, they’re here. EMS needs you to come out so the fire department can use the jaws. It’s time to turn him over to someone else.’
I grip Trevor’s hand, promising him things I’m not sure will come true. “I’m gonna be right here, and then I’m gonna go get your sister and momma. You’re gonna be fine, brother. Hang in there for me.”
I extricate myself as quickly as possible, and as I come out, my eyes meet Blaze’s.
“It’s Trevor?” she asks, a look of devastation on her face.
“It’s Trevor,” I confirm. “Get our boy safely to the hospital and give him a fighting chance. I have to go notify his family.”
“What do we do about Brooks?” Ace asks.
For the first time I look over and see Brooks standing on the side of the road, blood running down his face from a gash at his hairline, but he’s fine. He’s not going to be fighting for his life like Trevor will be. It takes everything I have not to run over and lay that boy out, to hold my gun to his head and ask him to plead for his life. I remind myself he’s someone else’s kid, and he’s made a stupid decision, but fuck if I’m going to let him be comfortable while Trevor is stuck in the fuckin’ mud.
“I don’t give two shits. Let him rot out here until transport comes. I’m taking our car.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Whitney
The meeting is going well and we’ve just signed contracts with the happy couple and I’ve scanned them with my phone, sending them to Addison. “Please don’t think the fact I’ll have a newborn then will be a problem.”
“You’ve always been an amazing and fair business woman, Whitney, I have no doubt you will make it work as a mother.”
I can’t help but smile, feeling excited and happy people still trust me. “I’m anxious to get started. I know we have a few months, but I’ll probably have something for you to look at next week. I’m not one to wait until the last second and I’ll keep you up to date.”
We stand, ready to end our meeting when a group of older men come in. “Ernie, turn the scanner on,”
Oh good grief, something must be happening and they want to be nosey. One of the disadvantages of living in a small town. I turn to grab my bag, when another group of men come in, this one a little younger than the previous.
“Ernie is the scanne
r on? We just tried to come through the bottoms and there’s been a bad wreck.”
“I’m turning it on,” Ernie yells from behind the counter.
“Did y’all hear one of the cars involved was an officer and they died?” One of the group of older men asked the other group.
“Mom,” my heart drops and I reach out, grabbing her mom by the arm. “Did he say what I think he said?”
“Yes,” my mom nods slowly. “And none of them should be talking about it unless they know for sure,” she says loud enough that the group could hear them.
“Oh honey, is your boy workin’ today? He’s normally off, I didn’t think nothin’ of it.” One of the men at the counter says, looking over at me, with sympathy in his eyes.
“He switched because we had an ultrasound,” I put my hand on my stomach, feeling Stella kick.
“Have a seat,” Mom scoots a chair underneath me, while I’m fumbling in my purse. “I know,” I grab my phone. “I’ll just call and see if they can patch me through. He’ll answer, and things will be fine.”
But they don’t feel fine, and my fingers shake as I dial the number. Dread pools in my stomach and I think immediately of all the things I should have said. The things I wanted to say but never did. I’ve never even told Ryan I love him, even though I do. I didn’t want to open myself up to the potential hurt putting my feelings out there may cause. The regret eats at me as I listen to the phone ring.
“Laurel County Dispatch.”
I go into my spiel, telling them who I am and telling her I just want to know if Ryan’s okay or if they can patch me through to him.
“I’m sorry, if you aren’t immediate family we can’t give that info out while someone’s on shift.”
“We may not be blood related, but I carry his baby,” I tell the woman on the other end of the line.
“Unless you wear his ring, have his last name, or a marriage license, I simply can’t give you the information you’re asking for.”
I hang up because it’s not in me to be rude to this woman. I still remember how my mom raised me and the fact she’s sitting right next to me. “I’ll call Trevor,” I decide. “He’ll know.”
As I listen to the phone go to voicemail, the tears come, they glide down my face and neck, until they’re stopped by the pearls I always wear. Reaching up, I grab hold of the pearl stud Ryan gave me for my birthday before the Alabama game.
“I never told him I love him, mom. I never told him. What if he died wondering? I didn’t tell him,” I bury my head in my hands, sobbing, letting my entire body take on the regret I feel.
“Honey, he knows,” Mom rubs my back, speaking to me in soothing tones.
I can’t breathe, I feel the suffocation of the room, of all the eyes on me. “Not if he’s dead, mom.”
“Why don’t we go home?” She offers. “That way you’re there if they come for you.”
“No,” I stiffen my chin, hoping it stops trembling as I grip the edge of the table, daring her to drag me out of there if she has to. “Ryan knew I was going to be here today. If they’re looking for me, Ryan would tell them where I am.”
I’m aware that I make no sense. I’ve just told my mom he’s dead, but I can’t make myself leave in case he’s not. Why would God do this to me? Why would he give me something worth holding onto if he was just going to take him away from me? I can’t understand.
I grab my purse and phone, running outside as much as I can run. When I get into the fresh air, rain falls like tears from the sky, I inhale deep breathes, trying to regulate my heartbeat. I put my hands over my head, clasping my fingers, expanding my ribcage, and hope I don’t have this baby weeks early because if Ryan’s dead, a part of me just died, too.
In the distance, I see blue lights and know they’re coming to tell me my baby has no father. They’re coming to make a notification.
Wiping the tears off my neck and face, I pull my bottom lip in between my teeth. I absolutely will not be complete and total mess when they tell me. I will make Ryan proud of how I handle this.
The car comes to a screeching halt in front of the cafe, and I do a double-take as Ryan gets out of the driver’s seat. He’s dirty, covered in mud, blood, and I have no idea what else, but he’s alive.
I run to him, crushing my white dress to the front of his once-white shirt. “You’re alive,” I run my hands through his hair.
He grabs hold of me tightly, holding me against him. “It wasn’t me, Princess. It wasn’t me, I’m here.”
I can’t say anything, I bury my face in his chest, sobbing. Relief flowing through me, but despair for the other person’s family.
“I have bad news though, Whit.”
Suddenly I look up at him. Now I notice the tension on his face, the utter devastation there – something is wrong. “Who was it?” I whisper because I can’t ask the question out loud. My voice won’t let me make it any higher, my body can’t push the sound out with any more force.
“It was Trevor. The officer in the other car was Trevor.”
“But he’s off-duty today,” I argue, not believing what he’s telling me.
“He was approaching from the opposite direction. They hit head on. When I left they were extricating him from the truck. We need to go to the hospital in Birmingham. That’s where they’ll take him.”
“To identify the body?” I whimper, trembling in his arms.
“Princess look at me,” he grabs my chin. “He’s not dead. He’s not good, I won’t lie about that, and I don’t know what he’s facing, but when I left he wasn’t dead. Dry those tears up, and let’s get your mom. We have a lot of praying to do.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Renegade
I grip Whitney’s hand as we drive silently to the hospital. I don’t think I’ve ever had a more somber ride in my life. If this was under a different set of circumstances, I would make a joke about their mom sitting in the back of the police car. Today though, that joke isn’t there. She’s quietly crying into a napkin, her phone shaking as she texts her husband updates.
“Will he meet us there, Mona?” I finally find my voice, still shocked at how raw it sounds.
She nods, tears spilling down her face. “He’s gettin’ someone to drive him. I think he’s more shook up than he was letting on when I called him. He’ll probably be about thirty minutes behind us, because they were out towards the gulf. Knowin’ him though, he’ll make them speed and pay for the ticket if they get pulled over.
“He’s gonna be okay, right?” Whitney asks from beside me.
I’m not sure who she’s asking, not sure any of us truly know the answer to the question. It’s a hard one. I saw him, saw how he was gasping for breath, how hard it was for him to make his lungs work. The tips of my fingers felt the weakness of his pulse, and try as I might, I can’t get rid of the picture I now have in my head. Trevor pale white with blood dotting his face. None of us know the answer.
“I don’t know, Princess,” I bring her hand up to my lips in a show of affection I normally don’t allow her family to see.
We’ve been closed off when they’ve been around, almost scared to show them how into one another we are. Today, I think I need the affection more than her. I could purr when she flips her palm over and cups the side of my jaw, rubbing against the growth of stubble. Was it seriously only a few hours ago she was telling me not to shave? It seems a lifetime ago. I feel like I’ve aged a thousand years since this morning.
“This is where we’ve got to give it over to God, Whitney,” her mom says from the backseat and I get mysteriously angry.
My jaw clenches and I grit my teeth. There’s a part of me that wants to ask what God has to do with all of this. If God were the type of person to care, he would have put Brooks in the back of that ambulance. Trevor is a good man, a great friend, and an amazing human being. He served his country with honor, and he’s done things asked of him that no other person probably would have done. For him to end up on the side of the road brok
en the way he did, at one of his favorite spots, is a travesty, and fuck it all if I’m not angry. I want to shout and rage, scream at the injustice of it all. I can’t understand why the fuck Brooks walked away from the wreck and Trevor rode away in an ambulance. How does any of that make sense? Trevor wasn’t breaking the law, he wasn’t running from responsibility. He was enjoying his damn day off.
“I’ll try, Mama,” she answers softly, but we share a look, and in that moment I know she feels the same way I do.
The silence blankets us again and I do my best to focus on the hand holding mine. My mind zeroes in on the way Whitney’s fingers caress my palm. It’s a slow glide of her fingernail against my flesh, but it gives me something to think about. It’s a center that allows me to block out all the noise I’ve been hearing since we came upon the wreck.
There’s a ringing in my ears and it only gets louder the more I try to drown it out. Her soft touch is the only thing making it go away, the only thing keeping me sane right now. I focus on it instead. The one bright spot of my day – hell, she’s my bright spot of every day.
The drive to Birmingham feels like it takes days, but finally I see the exit for the hospital. I won’t lie, when they mentioned taking Trevor to the nearest trauma unit, I about lost it. That has serious repercussions. To be airlifted to a trauma center tells me things are bad.
As we pull into the parking structure, all of us gasp at the amount of police cars already parked there. One of the guys from Laurel Springs is directing traffic, and once he sees us, he directs us to a spot close to the elevator on the bottom floor.
As we get out, he jogs over to Mona and takes off his hat. “We’re thinking about you, Mrs. Trumbolt. Anything you need, you let us know.”
She doesn’t answer, but she grabs his hand and holds on tight. Overcome with emotion, she nods as Whitney puts her arm around her mom.
“C’mon, Mama, let’s go find out what’s going on.”
Renegade (Moonshine Task Force Book 1) Page 19