All I Need (Hearts of the South)

by Linda Winfree

  “Cookie, go to tactical.”

  Cook fiddled with the radio, and Emmett’s voice cleared the static. “We can’t return fire without an exact location or visual. There are houses on the other side of the wood line.”

  Savannah froze. Return fire? That could only mean one thing—an active shooting situation.

  With Emmett involved.

  She forced herself to breathe and think. His voice was steady and calm, and apparently, he was thinking too. For the moment, he was all right.

  Calvert lifted the radio to his mouth. “GSP and Haynes County are coming in north and west. DNR is already in the area, working fields. They’re probably our best bet. Cookie and I are on our way. Sit tight and don’t do anything stupid.”

  He tagged Cook’s arm. “Let’s go.”

  They passed Mackey returning from lunch. He gestured after them. “Where are they headed in such a hurry?”

  Savannah ignored the question, refusing to panic. “Do we have access to their tactical channel?”

  “No.” Mackey frowned. “What is going on?”

  “It sounds like an active shooting.” She swallowed hard. “And Emmett’s on scene.”

  He nodded, his expression tightening. “They’ll call in or have EMS do it if anyone’s coming in.”

  She bit her lower lip. This was worse than that night with Gates—that had come from nowhere. Today she was in a state of limbo, aware of the unfolding of a threat to Emmett’s safety.

  Thank You for him. Please, put a hedge around him. Give me the strength to handle what might happen.

  The simple prayer sank into her consciousness, along with the accompanying sense of peace. The concern over Emmett left no room for anger any longer. As she’d known He would be, He was waiting.

  Now the waiting belonged to her.

  * * * * *

  Waiting was hard. Emmett rested his forehead against the quarter panel for a moment. Urgency pulsed under his skin—a wild desire to do something, but that would be the essence of stupidity. Impatience got cops killed. He wasn’t going to be one of them.

  A pair of shots nailed the car, one rattling through the trunk, the other taking out the front driver’s side tire. He tensed, back and shoulders aching. Jesus, please. Don’t let him hit the gas tank.

  A diesel engine rumbled from the west. He darted a glance over the trunk to find the GSP SWAT unit idling at the top of the hill. Gratefulness flooded him. Damn, he was glad to see them. As black-uniformed personnel scrambled from the vehicle, he cast a quick glance at the wood line. They had to be aware there were houses on the other side. He knew a couple of the guys on team, had trained with them. They were good and wouldn’t fire without location.

  A rapid volley of shots came from the woods, aimed at the SWAT van. Whoever the shooter was, he was either arrogant or not as smart as he thought he was. That burst accomplished nothing except to reveal his location to the SWAT team.

  A flash of movement behind them caught his attention. He glanced over his shoulder to find the large white mobile news van jockeying into position near the waiting fire trucks. For a moment, he let his forehead rest against the quarter panel. Damn, his whole torso ached. Breathing hurt, but the discomfort radiated from muscle pain. At least he hoped nothing deeper than that was damaged. If so, with SWAT on hand, maybe they’d be out of here soon. He could hang on that long.

  “SWAT team’s advancing on the woods.” Bennett’s low voice refocused his attention. Emmett nodded and wiped beads of sweat from his upper lip.

  “C-2 and C-3 on scene.” Their handhelds blipped to life with Calvert’s voice. “We’re headed into the woods from Christopher Cove.”

  “GSP 29 to Chandler C-2, we’ve got a visual. He’s on the move, due south, still in the cover, two hundred yards from the cell tower.”

  In well-choreographed formation, the SWAT officers advanced on the woods.

  Emmett fought down the immediate desire to move. Bennett shifted, and Emmett motioned at him to stay put. “Not until the threat is neutralized.”

  Long minutes dragged by. His thigh cramped, protesting the prolonged squat. He winced and shifted it, his gaze on the woods.

  “We got him.” Calvert’s terse voice broke the waiting.

  With the curt announcement, activity exploded. The fire trucks rushed in, firefighters unreeling hoses and spraying the still-burning car with water and foam. Emmett cast a glance toward the ambulance and pushed up to a stiff standing position. He’d not heard Clark the whole time. He managed one step in the ambulance’s direction before Bennett halted him.

  “Wait.” Bennett swept a gaze across the asphalt. “All the slugs have to be marked and mapped.”

  Frustrated but unwilling to compromise the evidence, Emmett cupped both hands around his mouth. “Clark, you okay?”

  “Can’t talk.” Clark appeared around the side of the bus and opened the doors to grab his gear. “Jim took one in the shoulder. Gotta start an IV and immobilize it until the Dougherty County ambulance gets here.”

  Bennett stared at the exit hole in the trunk. “Shit, we can’t even touch the car to get the evidence kit.”

  He pulled his phone from his belt and began snapping photos of the scene. He winced, rotating his wrist experimentally, and grimaced. Emmett glanced at the other squad car. “What about Walker’s kit?”

  Bennett shook his head. “He doesn’t need to walk over here. Besides, he’s setting up the perimeter.”

  Sure enough, Walker had the crime-scene tape out and was setting up the perimeter-within-a-perimeter. Emmett sighed and immediately regretted the deep breath.

  They were going to be here a while.

  The malaise didn’t last long as the adrenaline started to kick in. The GBI crime-scene techs carefully moved them—Emmett, Troy Lee, and Bennett—back to Walker’s unit. One of them unloaded the surveyor’s laser scanner to take the measurements for a 3-D model of the scene and set up a few feet from them. Troy Lee, jaw tight, rested on the trunk and propped his foot on the bumper. He rolled his sock down to reveal swelling and bruising around the ankle. “Damn it.”

  “What happened to you?” Bennett cradled his wrist in his opposite palm.

  “Tripped over Jim, trying to get him down behind the ambulance. Think he meant to get me shot.” Troy Lee cast a baleful glare at the Charger. “Fuck, look at my car.”

  Walker harrumphed. “At least Calvert can’t blame you for this one.”

  “Lieutenant, we need your shirt and vest.” The brusque GBI agent approached, crime-scene tech at her heels. She gestured at Emmett. “Turn around and let them photograph it, then strip it off.”

  Feeling edgy and confined, Emmett obeyed. He removed his brass and stuck the pieces in his front pants pocket. Shirt unbuttoned, he allowed the tech to remove it.

  Bennett swore behind him. Emmett tried to look over his shoulder. “What?”

  “Kid, you are damn lucky.” Walker’s voice wavered a moment.

  Stiff and sore already, Emmett had to let them help him struggle out of the tactical gear. Walker reached out to hitch up his undershirt.

  Troy Lee prodded him with a less-than-gentle finger. “Son of a bitch, that’s got to hurt.”

  Emmett rolled his shoulders. “It stings but it’s not that bad. What does it look like?”

  With his phone, Troy Lee snapped a couple of shots and held it up for Emmett’s perusal.

  “Damn.” Emmett stared at the large swathes of red and purple blooming across his back. “It really doesn’t hurt that much.”

  “Wait until the adrenaline wears off.” Walker smirked. “Or until you wake up tomorrow.”

  With his finger, Emmett zoomed in the photo. “That is pretty damn cool.”

  “What?” Irritation hovered in Bennett’s curt voice. “That son of a bitch almost killed you. Would have killed any one of us if he could. What’s cool about that?”

  Emmett frowned at him. “Let’s just say getting shot at and having a couple of major bru
ises is way cooler than actually getting shot and almost bleeding out.”

  Bennett narrowed his eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

  “You’re mad at me?” Emmett tapped his own chest. “What the hell?”

  “Do you not get what almost happened out here?” Bennett flung a hand toward the scene behind them, where crime-scene techs continued to work.

  “Probably better than you do.” Emmett glared, heat flushing his nape and tingling along the edges of his ears. Hands at his hips, Bennett looked away, face pale under his tan.

  “Emmett.” Troy Lee laid an easy hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have a kid, man.”

  Bennett closed his eyes, his face taking on a greenish tinge.

  “He’s gonna throw up,” Walker observed.

  “Yep.” Troy Lee steered his partner toward the grass. Bennett bent double, hands on his knees, and retched. “It’s kinda normal for him after extreme stress.”

  With a muttered curse, Bennett hunkered down, a hand over his eyes.

  “Hey, we could take bets on who’s going to have the hardest time at home over this.” Walker adjusted his belt. “At this point, my money’s on Farr.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “If you have any redness or swelling or if the pain gets worse, I want you to follow up with your primary physician. Also, the stitches need to come out in seven days. Your primary doctor can do that.” Savannah finished the gauze wrap and smiled at the young man hunched on the exam table. Performing the relatively complicated suturing had been a distraction from worrying about what was happening with Emmett. “If you don’t have a regular physician, come back here and ask for me. And you’ve got to keep that dressing clean and dry. Leave it on for at least twenty-four hours before you change it.”

  She slid the stool back and rose to strip off her gloves. “Haley, make sure he gets a work release if he needs one when you do his discharge papers, please.”

  “Sure thing.”

  A quick sharp rap sounded at the door. Savannah nodded at the young man. “Any questions?”

  “No, ma’am.” The cloud on his face didn’t clear.

  “Okay.” She moved toward the door. “Remember to come back in if you need to.”

  She opened the door to find Mackey, face set, in the hall. Foreboding shivered over her, worry crowding in full force, stealing her ability to breathe.

  “Three of our sheriff’s office guys are on the way in.” Mackey pitched his voice low. “Emmett’s one of them, but they’re all walking wounded. The SO is bringing in the suspect as well. He’s complaining of chest pains.”

  Suddenly, she could breathe again. No trauma run, so he was all right. She’d feel even better when she could see him for herself.

  “Thank you.” She cast a look toward the nurse’s station. “Does Landra know?”

  “Yeah, I just told her.” His face pale and unhappy, he motioned toward the staff room. “She’s getting herself together.”

  The back door opened, and he was there, Walker at his side. She drank in his appearance—dirty, sweaty, his uniform shirt gone so he was clad in the brown uniform pants and a no-longer-white undershirt. Behind him, Troy Lee and Rob looked almost as bad, even though their uniforms remained intact. She frowned, her knees wanting to weaken. She drew herself up, gaze locked on Emmett’s.

  “So who’s the worst?” Mackey jerked his chin at them.

  Walker jerked his thumb in Emmett’s direction. “He can’t breathe.”

  Savannah’s heart jolted, and she ran an assessing gaze over him. Emmett rolled his eyes. “I said it hurt to breathe, not that I couldn’t breathe.”

  Eyes narrowed, Savannah reached out and lifted his shirt. His torso was clear, but massive contusions marred his back. Her own breath whooshed out. “God.”

  Mackey peered at the bruises. “What the hell happened to you?”

  “I took two bullets to the back.” Emmett darted a look at her. “Felt like a hammer hitting my vest.”

  “I told him it was gonna hurt like a son of a bitch,” Troy Lee said, “but he says it doesn’t.”

  “It’s starting to.” Emmett grimaced. Savannah clenched her fingers around the edges of his shirt. She couldn’t grab him and hold on here in the ER, as badly as she wanted to.

  “What about you two?” Mackey gestured between Troy Lee and Rob.

  Troy Lee shrugged. “Got my ankle, and we’re not sure about Rob’s wrist.”

  Savannah met her brother-in-law’s irritable gaze. “The same wrist you broke last year?”

  “Yeah.” His mouth tightened. “Came down on it when I dove behind the car.”

  “I think I liked it better when you were mostly behind a desk. You too.” She indicated Emmett.

  “All right, sonogram and CT for Emmett, so we know there’s no deep tissue damage or other bleeding. We need to check you for lung damage as well. Why didn’t they bring you in via ambulance? Hell.” Mackey cleared his throat and pointed at Troy Lee and Rob. “You two to x-ray to make sure nothing’s broken.”

  Savannah pulled her attention from Emmett’s bruises and focused on Rob a moment. “Does Amy know about this yet?”

  “The shooting? Yeah. That I might have broken my wrist again?” Rob made a face. “No.”

  Behind them, the back door swung open again. Calvert’s low murmur, though the words were indistinct, carried a strong note of disgust. Rob stiffened, fury flushing his face. “Son of a bitch.”

  Surprised by his reaction, Savannah glanced back. Calvert and Cook escorted Jake Stringham, dirty, scruffy, and handcuffed, up the hall. Fists clenched, Rob took a step forward. Troy Lee and Emmett both grabbed an arm and put his back to the wall.

  “Not worth your badge, man.” Troy Lee spoke in a firm, quiet voice. Rob’s chest heaved, his gaze pinned on Stringham’s face. “He’s going to prison, and you’re going home to your wife and daughter.”

  Mackey pointed Calvert and Cook toward exam four. “I’ll send a nurse in for triage and let Layla handle him when she’s finished in exam three.”

  Troy Lee hooked his arm around Rob’s neck and tugged him toward the hall. “Let’s go to x-ray before you get into trouble. Mackey, we’re walking up.”

  “I’ve got a workplace accident bleeding all over the place out here.” Lorraine’s harried voice cut across the tension.

  Mackey jerked his chin at Savannah and gestured at Emmett. “I’ve got him. You take that.”

  She nodded, but gave in to the need to wrap her arms around Emmett’s neck for a moment. Against her, he was warm and real and alive, skin gritty under her fingers and the scent of male sweat strong in her nostrils. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  He chuckled near her ear. “Now you want to tell me you love me?”

  She sagged into him. “Oh, God, Em, don’t tease.”

  “Go do your job.” He tightened his embrace for a moment and released her. She made herself let go. “I’ll see you in a while.”

  In-a-while ended up being a couple of hours. The workplace accident, a line employee from the local chicken plant, needed extensive suturing and an orthopedic consult. When she was finished, she tapped on exam one and waited for Emmett’s low “Come in.”

  He sat on the exam table, an irritable expression clouding his face. She smiled. “Hey, what did Mackey say?”

  “Deep muscle bruises. No internal issues.” He gestured at his torso. “Compression bandage, ice, rest. A solid week off active duty, but I can ride a desk like before.”

  “You can do a week, easy.” She wanted to hold on to him again, but she had a diabetes call in triage and lined up for her. “I may be here a while longer.”

  He nodded. “I’m waiting on discharge, then Landra’s going to run me back to the station for my truck. She’s wanting to play big sister, and I figure it’ll make her feel better if I let her for a little while. I’ll see you at home.”

  “Okay.” She leaned in to kiss him, wrapping one hand around his nape. She breathed him in as long a
s she could. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  * * * * *

  Low music greeted her when she opened the front door. The lights were off except for the one over the kitchen sink, spilling a muted glow into the living area. She frowned, letting her eyes adjust to the dimness after the bright lights on the stairs. Still in his uniform pants and undershirt, Emmett slumped on one end of the couch, elbow on the arm, thumb and index finger pinching the bridge of his nose.

  Something about that posture made her chest hurt.

  She dropped her bag on the bench by the door and crossed to him. “Em? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” He let his hand fall, eyes closed. “I’m okay.”

  “Are you in pain?” She bent to run an exploratory hand over his torso. No swelling, and his breathing sounded okay. “You have to tell me if you are because that can—”

  “I said I was okay.” He brushed her hand away. Irritation and an emotion that looked like fear glittered in his eyes. “I’m not hurting.”

  Frown deepening, she studied him. He was tight with tension, which wasn’t unexpected after the day’s events. But he seemed more wary and caged than anything else. Careful not to jostle him, she sank onto the couch beside him, her shoulder tucked into the curve of his underarm. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

  He closed his eyes once more. “My mind’s all over the place, and I can’t slow it down.”

  “That’s normal.” She rested her hand on his knee. “You’ve had a rough day.”

  His chest lifted and fell with a harsh breath. “I’m worried about us.”

  “What?”

  “Today, on top of my getting shot last year…that’s a fluke, Savannah, you know that, right? I’m smart about what I do, and I don’t take unnecessary risks.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “And maybe it doesn’t even matter because it’s not like…”

  His voice trailed away. Lips parted, Savannah stared at him. He was rarely this inarticulate. “What exactly are you worried about?”

  Silence dragged between them. Finally, he shook his head and eased forward on the couch. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  Frustration heated the back of her neck. “Emmett.”