I swallowed and nodded. Could I do this? Did I have a choice?
“Hey,” he said gently. “You’re doin’ great.”
“I haven’t even done anything yet.”
He grinned. “Then let’s get to it.”
He quickly unwrapped the towel and handed it to me.
Marshall cried out from having his leg jostled. Neely Kate pressed down on his shoulders to hold him down.
I dropped the heavy towel into the bucket, still trying to get control. I closed my eyes for a brief second and visions of Merv filled my head. I could practically feel my bloody clothes sticking to my skin as his dead body crushed me into the ground.
I gasped and opened my eyes with a jerk, but the blood-soaked towel at my feet taunted me.
I’d spent a week and a half trying to ignore my nightmares, but standing over Marshall’s bleeding leg was shoving it all back in my face.
“Rose,” Neely Kate said.
I turned to face her.
“Honey, are you okay?”
I blinked. This wasn’t like me, and this absolutely was not the time to fall apart. “Yeah. Bad memories.”
Dermot gave me another glance as he finished cutting the jeans off. Then, having clearly decided I wouldn’t faint on him, he rolled Marshall toward me and tugged the denim out from underneath him, jerking it free and handing it to me. Grabbing a clean towel, Dermot dabbed the oozing wound on Marshall’s leg. “It looks like the bullet’s still in there. I’m gonna have to dig it out.”
“Okay.”
“Keep pressure on his leg while I get some tools out.”
I took over pressing the towel into the wound while Dermot stripped off his gloves and dug into his bag again. The boy moaned and his entire body shook.
Dermot opened a package and laid a paper cloth on the table next to Marshall’s leg. He dumped stainless steel tools from sterile bags onto the cloth, along with several packages of sterile gauze. He uncapped a bottle of alcohol and handed it to me. “When I tell you to, you’re gonna pour this over his wound, got it?”
I nodded, my mouth dry, but I forced out, “Yeah.”
He opened a pair of sterile gloves and donned them. “Marshall, this is gonna hurt like a son of a bitch, but I need you to stay still.”
Dermot lifted his gaze to Neely Kate. “Be ready to hold him down. I suspect it will be a lot like riding a bucking bronco before this is said and done.”
“Okay,” she said with wide eyes.
“Rose, remove the towel and pour the alcohol on there.”
I lifted the towel, swallowing hard when I saw the raw, bloody wound beneath, but I poured the liquid onto it without flinching.
Marshall screamed and tried to sit up, and I threw my weight onto his shin to pin his leg down.
“Dammit,” Dermot said, “I can’t give him more morphine or he’ll overdose.” He glanced up at the kid’s face. “Marshall. I know it hurts, dude, but I need you to cooperate.” Then he said under his breath, “It’s only gonna get worse.”
The next five minutes were terrifying as Dermot dug out the bullet. Marshall was hoarse from screaming, and Dermot ran out of sterile gauze to soak up the blood. But finally, Dermot was satisfied he hadn’t left anything behind and stitched the wound shut. By then, Marshall had passed out from pain and blood loss.
“Okay,” Dermot said as he stripped off his bloody gloves and bandaged the wound. “Now we wait and see.”
“He might not make it?” I asked in surprise.
“He’s lost a lot of blood and the wound was pretty dirty. I’ll give him some IV antibiotics, and we’ll hope for the best.” He pushed out a breath. “I need a drink. You got anything?”
I glanced at Neely Kate. “We’ve got beer, wine, and some whiskey.”
He walked over to the kitchen sink and started to wash his hands. “What kind of whiskey?”
“Jameson,” Neely Kate said.
He nodded his approval. “You got a bedroom down here?”
“No,” I said, “they’re all upstairs.”
“We can either put him on your sofa or the three of us can haul him upstairs.”
My mouth dropped open. “You’re not gonna take him with you?”
“I can’t,” he said. “And before you ask, it’s for the same reason I didn’t bring anyone with me. I did this as a favor to you, but I owe that kid nothin’. I don’t want to get wrapped up in whatever trouble he’s brought down on himself.”
“Dermot!” I protested. “You’re a nurse. It’s your duty to help him.”
“And I did, but I have no idea why that boy’s lyin’ on your kitchen table, and the fact that you called me instead of Malcolm has me worried. We just reached a truce, and I don’t want to rock the boat—not over a kid I don’t know anything about.”
“He could die, Dermot.”
“Then call an ambulance if it looks like he’s on death’s door. My part’s done. And I’m counting on your relationship with Malcolm to save my ass if he holds it against me.”
“I don’t have a relationship with Skeeter Malcolm,” I grumbled.
“And I’m King Tut.” He gestured toward the kid on my table. “Where do you want him?”
I looked at Neely Kate, wondering how we’d gotten into this mess.
“The second guest bedroom,” she said. “We can tie the IV bag to the cast-iron headboard.”
He pushed out a breath. “Second guest bedroom it is. Let’s get this done so I can get my drink.”
In the end, Neely Kate and I were of little help, so Dermot tossed the kid over his shoulder and carried him upstairs. The two of us trailed behind, me holding the IV bag. We got him settled in the bed—with several towels under his leg to protect the sheet and mattress.
Dermot put antibiotics in his IV bag as well as a narcotic to help with his pain. Then Neely Kate tied the bag to the bed, and we headed back downstairs. Like it or not, we had a houseguest.
Neely Kate grabbed the glasses, I grabbed the whiskey, and we carried everything out to the front porch. Sighing, I settled into one of the wicker chairs and poured drinks for myself and Neely Kate. She and Dermot sat down too, one on either side of me.
Dermot took the bottle out of my hands and gave himself a generous pour, then lifted his glass. “To the Lady in Black, may her reign be long and peaceful.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “What?”
“You have to know you’re a legend now.” Then he drained his glass and poured more before setting the bottle on the small wicker side table. “That boy won’t be the last to show up at your front door—or barn, as the case may be—seeking sanctuary.”
“He knew where I lived. And so did you,” I said, cradling my glass in my hands.
“It’s not a secret, Rose. A lot of us have known since we found out who you really are. We know Crocker tracked you down here. And a lot of us have good memories.” He held his glass next to his face and unfurled a finger to tap his temple.
“Are we in any kind of danger?” I asked.
“I suspect not. Most men consider you . . . Sweden.” A huge grin spread across his face. “I think they like the idea of a safe haven, but . . .” He took another sip. “I have no idea how that kid got shot, and whoever did it might be lookin’ for him. They might not appreciate your offer of sanctuary. How’d he get here?”
“He said a friend dropped him off.”
“We just won’t let anyone know he’s here,” Neely Kate said.
“I suspect that ship has sailed,” Dermot said, taking another sip. “He’s a kid, which means his friend probably is young too. That means they’re stupid. The friend’s gonna talk. You need to be prepared to protect yourself.” His gaze turned serious. “You should call Malcolm and have him send some men to stand guard.”
“No,” I said. “Marshall begged me not to call Skeeter, and besides, using his men to protect me kind of defeats the whole purpose of bein’ neutral.”
“Why didn’t he want you to call
Malcolm?”
“I don’t know, but he got pretty freaked out when I suggested it.”
Dermot tapped his glass thoughtfully, then turned toward me. “So now the question is what are you gonna do when Skeeter Malcolm or his men show up at your doorstep to haul that kid off?”
I already knew what I’d do, but that didn’t mean I liked it.
“So basically we’re up crap creek,” Neely Kate said.
I took a sip of whiskey as I stared out into the yard, feeling unsettled. This was what I’d wanted, right? To be a mediator in the turbulent crime world and help achieve the kind of lasting peace that would keep Fenton County citizens safe.
And, if I were honest, to keep James safe too.
Dermot set down his now-empty glass of whiskey. “That sounds like an issue for you ladies, so I’ll let you work it out.” He got to his feet and picked up the bag. “Change his bandage twice a day for the first few days and give him the antibiotic I left in the kitchen. If he gets a high fever that won’t come down with ibuprofen, then call an ambulance.” He paused. “But they’re gonna want to know who cleaned up his wound and my name better not enter into it.”
I’d only met Dermot a few weeks ago, but he’d always struck me as a respectful man. Still, the look on his face and the hard edge in his voice let me know his tolerance wouldn’t extend to being named in a police report regarding Marshall Billings.
A new fear washed through me. I’d been so concerned with helping Marshall survive the night, it hadn’t occurred to me that I might be aiding and abetting a criminal. A quick glance at Neely Kate told me she’d already considered the possibility. She didn’t look any happier than I felt.
“No one will ever know you helped us,” I said firmly. “Not even James.”
Dermot’s eyebrows shot up. “He’ll guess that it was me.”
“I won’t lie to him,” I said, “but I won’t confirm it either.”
Wearing a deep scowl, he stared at me for a moment before nodding. “I guess that’s the best I can ask for, but if this becomes a habit, we’ll need to rotate duty.” Then he turned around and left.
Neely Kate and I watched quietly as he got into his car. “What did he mean by that?” I finally asked as he drove toward the county road.
“I think he means the next time someone shows up with a gunshot wound, we need to call someone else.”
“You mean if someone else shows up.”
She gave me a deadpan look.
“This is my fault,” I said. “I was stupid enough to think I could be neutral and there wouldn’t be any repercussions.”
Neely Kate offered me a soft smile. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s a good thing.”
I released a sharp laugh. “You think it’s a good thing there’s a teenager with a gunshot wound lying in the upstairs bedroom?”
“No, I think it’s good that people aren’t associatin’ you with Skeeter Malcolm.” She turned to face the yard, lifting her glass to her lips. “And besides, we saved that boy’s life. The reason he came here was because he was certain the Lady in Black would help him. He’d be dead if he didn’t think he’d find refuge with her. That has to count for something.”
She was right, and I had to admit I felt a mixture of pride and relief. I hadn’t saved Jeanne, but Marshall could be a different story. “Are you going to tell Jed?” I asked.
She took a sip, then lowered her glass. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“You don’t want to lie to him.”
“I won’t lie to him,” she said emphatically. “For once I’ve got a really great guy I’m crazy about, and I don’t want to screw that up.” She turned to me with tear-filled eyes, imploring me to understand.
“I would never purposely do anything to hurt your relationship,” I said. “If you feel like you have to tell him, then you have my blessing, but that boy showed up here seeking sanctuary. That means I can’t hand him over to anyone.”
“Even Skeeter?”
I pushed out a heavy breath. “Especially Skeeter.”
Chapter 6
Neely Kate and I took turns checking on Marshall that night. He started running a fever at around four in the morning, so I gave him his first dose of antibiotics and some ibuprofen, along with a pain pill. At least none of my recurring nightmares had bothered me.
After I got up and ready around seven, I peeked my head in his room to find him sleeping. When I walked down to the kitchen, I found Neely Kate sitting at the table, staring out at the barn while nursing a cup of coffee with Muffy lying on the floor next to her. The room smelled like eggs and bacon, and the sight of the gold notebook open in front of my friend made me smile.
“I hope you got some sleep after I took over,” I said, grabbing a mug out of the cabinet.
“Yeah,” she said absently. “Hey, I moved the towels to the dryer. All the blood stains came out.”
“Thanks.” I poured a cup of coffee and sat down across from her. “Are you mad at me?”
Her gaze jerked to mine in surprise. “Why would you think I’m mad?”
“Because of Marshall. You’re quieter than usual.”
She shook her head. “No. I’m just thinkin’ about . . . things.”
“Like Kate?”
She gave me a tight smile.
Muffy got up and moved next to me, putting her front paws on my legs for attention. I picked her up and put her on my lap, absently stroking the back of her head. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I just want you to know I never want to be a burden to you. So if what happened last night upsets you and you don’t want to be around this . . . I understand.”
“You mean move out?” she asked bluntly.
A lump filled my throat, and I nodded. I hated the thought of being out here alone, especially if random strangers took to showing up at night, but I didn’t want her to be uncomfortable.
She gave me a smirk as she lifted her cup to her lips. “Don’t think you can get rid of me that easily. I love livin’ here with you and Muffy.”
“And we love havin’ you here too, but I understand if you change your mind.”
Muffy had perked up at the sound of her name, and as though confirming my statement, she leaned over and licked Neely Kate’s hand.
Neely Kate cupped the side of her neck and rubbed behind her ear. “I’m not gonna change my mind.”
“But you and Jed . . .” I took a breath. “He’s such a great guy, and he makes you so happy. If things keep goin’ the way they are, you’ll want to live with him.”
She dropped her hand to the table. “I don’t see that happenin’ anytime soon, so you’ve got nothin’ to worry about.”
But she was frowning now, which had me worried. “Did you tell Jed about our guest and it didn’t go well? Is that why you’re upset?”
“What?” she asked in surprise, then slumped back down in her seat. “No.”
Something was clearly bothering her, but I let it go. She’d tell me when she was ready.
Muffy must have sensed it too because she watched Neely Kate for a second and then gave a soft whine before stretching out across my thighs.
“We have a pretty light schedule at the landscaping office again,” I said. “So we should have some spare time to deal with all the nonsense going on. We need to figure out a plan to work on Patsy’s case. Did you call the motel owner?”
“Yeah, Bill said Carol Ann rented the room on Saturday night.”
“Saturday night?” I asked in surprise. “Patsy made it sound like Carol Ann showed up at her front door earlier than that.”
“We need to figure out where she was stayin’ before she rented that room,” Neely Kate said.
“She might have been staying with her mother,” I said. “Patsy mentioned that her aunt Lucille was tired of Carol Ann being a freeloader.”
“So we need to talk to Lucille Nelson.” Neely Kate wrote something in her gold notebook.
“You know who she is?”
“Kind o
f. Nothing helpful.”
“We know that Carol Ann was murdered sometime between the end of the church picnic and when Patsy called me at seven. We need to see if she has an alibi.”
“If she had an alibi, do you think she would have called us?”
“Well, no, but we still need to know what she was doing.”
Neely Kate nodded, then jotted something down. “We have to talk to Calvin.”
Her husband could give us tons of information. If he was willing. “You think he’ll talk to us?”
“Sure. We’re the ones tryin’ to prove she didn’t do it.”
“But if he’s foolin’ around, maybe he wants her to go down for this,” I said. “She’ll go to prison, and he’ll be free to do whatever he wants.”
Neely Kate shook her head while writing in her notebook.
“No?” I asked. “Why not?”
“Because Patsy makes a killin’ in real estate. More than he does. If she goes to prison, no more money.”
“Why does Patsy stay with him if not for the money?”
She shrugged. “She says she loves him. Go figure. Love makes you do crazy things.” The look she gave me made it all too clear what she was thinking, but she spoke her mind anyway. “You have to be smart, Rose. You have to know that startin’ something with Skeeter Malcolm is the worst idea ever.”
I pressed my lips together and didn’t comment. We’d had this conversation already. More than once.
“I know you don’t want to talk about this, but a relationship with him will be nothing but heartbreak.”
“I know . . .”
“Yet you haven’t told him no yet.”
My eyes pleaded with hers. “I . . .”
“Love him?”
“Yeah,” I said quietly, “I think I do.”
She grabbed my hand and squeezed it tight. “Then you need to look long and hard at the life you’d be livin’,” she said softly, “because it won’t be the fairy tale you’re wantin’.”
“I’ve given up on fairy tales, Neely Kate. Mason broke me of that.”
Hell in a Handbasket Page 6