“Everyone will be happy that you’re here, they’re all starved!” She moves to the kitchen door and pokes her head out, calling, “Josh and Sam are here, everybody. Let’s eat!”
The bustle begins then, with Mom and Aunt Celeste and Pam quickly moving to take the food into the dining room, and I feel helpless as I watch. I look at Samantha, who raises an eyebrow at me.
“I guess we’ll do this at the table,” I smile at her, and she takes another deep breath.
We venture into the dining room then and take our seats, and as we eat an amazing meal of beef braciole with tomato basil sauce, served over penne, Sam and I sit quietly and listen to the conversations going around the table. I can feel my anxiety growing by the minute and I have no clue what to do. Should I just announce it to the room, or should I try to take Mom aside and tell her first?
“Oh, my God!” The chatter at the table comes to a complete halt as we all look over at Mom. Samantha freezes and Mom’s gaze flies from Sam’s hand up to my eyes. She looks at me questioningly and I answer her with a small, silent smile. “Oh, my God,” she repeats with a tearful smile as she gets out of her seat.
Standing quickly, my smile gets bigger as she falls into my arms. She hugs me tightly for several seconds, and then takes my face in her hands, kissing my cheek, and she studies my eyes. “Oh, my God,” she says once more, and turns to Samantha.
Sam stands nervously, biting her bottom lip, and I can see the relief wash over her when Mom envelops her in a bear hug. “You two have just made me deliriously happy,” Mom gushes, holding Sam’s face like she did mine. Then she takes Samantha’s hand and examines her mother’s ring. “Oh, Mama would be so happy too,” she whispers.
The dining room erupts then with congratulations and well wishes and everyone rushing to hug us, and it’s a joyous time. I don’t ever remember feeling this kind of happiness before. I never believed it existed before Sam. I have never been so happy to be proven wrong.
*****
On Monday, I stroll into work feeling like I’m floating on air. What’s the line from that old song? “Lucky me, can’t you see? I am in love!”
I wander into the building whistling that tune to myself, ignoring the looks and stares I get as I move through the halls. I enter the briefing room for roll call and spot an open chair next to Lee. Sliding into it, I continue my happy little tune, pretending not to notice his questioning smile as he looks at me.
Dave turns around and frowns at me, and I see the two of them giving each other the raised eyebrow look and shoulder shrug as I continue my song. When I finish my tune I look at each of them, smiling like the proverbial cat that ate the canary.
“You want to let us in on the secret, Guy?” Dave asks.
“Hmm? Oh. Well, I just uh … decided to take that Sergeant’s exam coming up, that’s all,” I shrug nonchalantly.
“That’s great, kid,” Lee says, smiling at me. “I am really glad to hear that; you’re going to make a great one, you’ll see.”
“That’s what you’re whistling about?” Dave asks, sounding skeptical.
“Yeah,” I nod. “Well … that and the fact that I asked Samantha to marry me this weekend.”
“You did what?” Dave looks shocked.
“Are you shitting us, Guy?” Lee asks, a huge grin on his face.
“No, I’m serious,” I laugh. “I really did.”
“And I’m guessing from that smile that she said yes?” Lee asks.
“Yes, she did.”
“I don’t believe this,” Dave says in shocked wonder.
“That is fabulous news, son,” Lee says, slapping me soundly on the back. “The best news I’ve had in days! Yo, everybody,” he yells, getting everyone’s attention, over my hushed protests. “I want you all to congratulate my kid here. He just got engaged!”
I want to be angry that he’s just announced it to the entire first shift without asking but, he looks and sounds like a proud father and it humbles me. I am soon congratulated and pat on the back by just about every cop in the room, including Lieutenant Marcos, who comes over to shake my hand.
“Congratulations, Guy.”
“Thank you, sir.”
About an hour later, Conner and I are sitting at our desks working when a call comes in from the hospital, and I listen as a doctor tells me that the husband in our double assault and rape case just passed away from his injuries. Shit. I hang up the phone and inform Conner that our latest assault case just became murder.
We head out then, following a lead in this case that takes us out to Bellevue. Seems one of our suspects has a rap sheet for assault and a rich daddy who’s always bailing him out of trouble. We track him down at daddy’s mansion and, as I climb out of the car, I look around and realize that Samantha’s uncle Kenny lives just down the road, and I know that both Lucas and her mom have homes somewhere in this neighborhood as well.
We head inside to speak with our suspect, and daddy tries to shield him right away, telling him that he doesn’t have to say a word to us if he doesn’t want to.
“Sir, your son can talk to us here or we can haul him to the station. It makes no difference to us whatsoever. But we will talk.”
“I know who you are, Detective Pierce,” he says condescendingly. “You and the Colby girl have been in the news for several weeks now. Well, Kenneth Colby is a good friend of mine.” The words are spoken as if they’re supposed to be some sort of free ride ticket, and I smirk at him, shaking my head slightly.
“Well, what a coincidence. Ken Colby’s a friend of mine, too. Hey, maybe we can all go have a beer after we talk to your son,” I say sarcastically, my eyes never wavering from his.
When he sees that throwing the Colby name at me is not going to make me flinch, he finally relents and lets us speak to junior, and I can tell immediately that the kid’s lying about his whereabouts the night the couple was attacked in the park, denying that he was anywhere near the scene. But when we tell him that the husband just died this morning from injuries sustained that night, he starts to sweat, and daddy shuts us down.
“That’s it. He’s not saying another word without our lawyer.”
“That’s fine, sir. You gather up junior and your lawyer and meet us at the station. Make sure to get your stories straight first,” I say with a bit of an attitude as Conner and I stand to leave. We show ourselves out and I feel myself getting pissed as we make our way to the car.
“That entitled little rich boy thinks he’s gonna get away with murder because daddy has an expensive attorney,” I mumble as Dave gets into the car.
“Yeah, well, not on our watch,” Dave answers. “He’s probably scrambling right now to get to his three cohorts. Let’s head up to Kirkland to track down the next one.”
I start up the cruiser and we get underway. And as I’m driving through Bellevue, Conner smirks at me.
“So, this is your future, huh?”
I frown and look over at him. “What are you talking about?”
“I mean this,” he says gesturing to the elaborate homes outside the windows. “Mansions and fancy cars. Your future in-laws live in this neighborhood, right?”
I don’t know why his question makes me a little self-conscious but, it does. I turn my attention back to the road and frown slightly as I answer quietly, “Yeah, they do.”
“Bet they’re already drafting the pre-nup, huh?” he laughs, and my frown gets deeper at that thought.
Shit. Dave’s right. Sam’s family will probably want a pre-nup. Hell, Lois Colby will probably demand it. And suddenly, I’m not at all sure how I feel about that. Really, Pierce? I smirk to myself. What the fuck do I care? I can sign a pre-nup; I’m not interested in Samantha’s money, she knows that. Lucas knows that too. I just want to be with Sam; I’ll sign whatever the hell they want me to.
“Hey, I didn’t mean anything by that, Guy,” Dave says apologetically as he studies my frown. “I’m just wondering how they been treating you is all. I mean, they seemed to
really be warming to you at that gallery opening on Friday. You looked downright chummy with the brother and the uncle. All of them.”
I sigh, grateful for the slight change in topic. “Yeah, most of her family’s actually been pretty great. It’s just her mom that I’ve had problems with. But that seems to be starting to change maybe.”
“Yeah? That’s good.”
I start to tell him about my talk with Sam’s mom at the gallery as I point the car toward the interstate and pull onto 405 heading north. But as soon as we pull onto the highway, it doesn’t take long to realize my mistake.
“Damn.” My voice is a quiet, astonished whisper. “What the hell happened here?”
“I think 405 might have been a mistake, Guy.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” I answer looking around at the gridlock and up ahead with a curious frown. “Too late now though, I got traffic behind me and no way to get off. Do you see that huge cloud of smoke up there?”
“Yeah.”
“I wonder what the hell happened.”
We hear sirens, seeming to come from all directions, and Conner turns up the car radio as a traffic and weather report comes on, advising listeners to avoid the 405 if at all possible as a massive wreck just happened not fifteen minutes before we entered onto the highway. According to the report, a collision involving two semi-trucks sparked a multiple car pile-up. One of the semis was a fully loaded tanker truck that exploded on impact. Well, that explains all the smoke. The report says there must be at least twenty cars involved with multiple injuries and fatalities expected.
“Shit. Why don’t you call into dispatch and tell them where we are. Let ’em know we’re going to try to offer our assistance if we can.”
“I’m on it,” Dave says, taking out his cell phone as I turn on the lights and siren. Slowly, I pull onto the shoulder of the highway and maneuver us up through the standing traffic. And as we get closer to the actual scene of the accident, both of our jaws drop at the sight.
The tanker truck is on fire and it is the biggest damn blaze I have ever seen. Idly, I wonder if the driver made it out okay. The second semi is sitting jackknifed in the middle of the highway and the carnage is unbelievable. Mangled cars and people everywhere. First responders are hustling around trying to do their jobs amid the confusion and the outrageous heat coming from the tanker, while crash victims either sit by their vehicles or wander around in a daze. Some are quietly in shock while others are screaming or crying. Still others are lying bloodied and broken, semi-conscious on the pavement, while others are stuck inside their vehicles.
“Holy mother of God,” Conner whispers. I put the cruiser in park and we get out, venturing over to the first cop we see. We flash him our badges and he nods at us.
“Anything we can do to help?”
“Just trying to keep the people calm right now. Medics and firefighters are working as fast as they can but, there’s so many crash victims and only so many medics able to get in here with the traffic. We’re hoping for more medical air lifts; that’s what we need most right now,” he says. “That, and to put out that damn fire!”
We lend a hand then, going from car to car, trying to help keep people calm and tending to those who seem to be in shock or disoriented. Most of them just want to be reassured that everything is going to be okay. Some of them are distraught over the obvious loss of a loved one, and it’s difficult trying to console them. My heart goes out to one older gentleman. Seems he was in the passenger seat of his son’s car when the accident occurred and both his son, who was driving, and his grandson who was sitting in the backseat were killed. He just keeps looking at me and asking why not him. I don’t have an answer for him, and I feel completely useless watching him.
We move on to help a man who’s holding a bloody handkerchief to his forehead as he’s trying to comfort the little girl he’s holding in his arms, when I happen to glance up about three cars ahead and my heart stops. I feel all the blood drain from my face as I stare at the back end of a crushed Mediterranean blue Maserati with personalized plates.
No. It can’t be!
I can’t breathe.
“Guy? What’s wrong?” I can hear Dave’s voice but, I can’t respond. I am frozen in place as I struggle to take air into my lungs, and I feel lightheaded. I can’t take my eyes off the sight of the car.
Oh, my God. No!
“Sam.” It’s an anguished whisper before I take off, running toward the car. A strangled sob escapes my lips as I reach it, and I clutch my chest in fear. The car is completely totaled and the windshield is caved inward, as if something struck it pretty hard. The driver’s side door is demolished and it’s clear to me that the jaws of life were used to get it open.
Oh, my God, no please! Samantha!
Looking into the car, I see blood on the deployed airbag, the steering wheel, and on the seat. Too much blood. My eyes light on her cellphone lying abandoned on the floorboard, and I reach to pick it up.
Oh, God! Where is she?
Frantically, I begin to look around the immediate area, and I know that I’m looking for a body. She obviously wasn’t thrown from the car. She was forceably removed. So where is she? Please, God, let her be alive!
“Hey! Hey you!” It’s Conner’s voice, and I turn to see him yelling at a passing paramedic. “The driver of this car, what happened to her?”
The medic looks puzzled for a moment, rattled by all the confusion and this strange cop suddenly shouting insistently at him. Dave doesn’t let that stop him though.
“What happened to the operator of this vehicle?” Dave shouts again, more forcefully this time.
“I believe that person was already airlifted to one of the area hospitals,” he tells Dave with a shrug.
“What kind of shape was she in?” I ask urgently, finally finding my voice.
“I really don’t know. I wasn’t working with that victim,” he says quickly as he starts to walk off.
“No, please! She’s my wife!” I yell at him, grabbing him by the shirt collar, desperately trying to get him to pay attention. “What hospital are the victims being taken to?”
“I’m sorry, Detective, but I can’t say for certain. I know that University, Harborview, and Virginia Mason have all been notified that they’ll probably be seeing some victims from this crash. Possibly even Overlake since it’s so close. I’m afraid that’s all I know,” he says looking at me apologetically. “I really hope your wife is okay.”
I release my hold on him and he turns and continues on his task, leaving me standing in the middle of the highway a complete and utter emotional mess.
“You good to drive while I call the hospitals or you want me to drive?” Conner asks. And I stare mutely at him as it takes me a second to comprehend his words. Sam. Oh, God … where is she? How is she? “Okay, give me the keys; I’ll drive.”
“No. I’m fine. I’ll drive.” My voice sounds alien to my ears. Hurrying back to our cruiser, I stuff Sam’s phone into my pocket as I climb behind the wheel and start her up. And as Dave begins cold calling the area hospitals, I ease the cruiser along the shoulder until I get to the nearest available exit. Then I punch it, hauling ass off the highway and back toward the city.
As I drive, I listen to Dave on the phone, trying desperately to locate Samantha and I’m suddenly very grateful that he’s here. He calls first one and then another, and the waiting and the not knowing is just about to drive me out of my freaking mind. Samantha. My sweet, beautiful goddess. An image of her sitting in my arms sipping champagne two days ago, her face kissed by the firelight, suddenly dances in my mind, and I feel my heart constrict. She can’t be gone. She can’t be gone; I would feel it. Another image of Sam floats through my mind: her looking down at me through wet ringlets of hair in shocked wonder as I perched on bended knee, offering her my grandmother’s ring. God, don’t do this to me. Running naked through the new house, chasing Sam as she giggles wildly. Please, don’t take her from me. Please!
I can
feel the unshed tears stinging my eyes as my hands grip the steering wheel fiercely and I floor the pedal, racing toward the city. Finally, Dave locates her at Virginia Mason Medical Center on 9th Ave, and I hit the lights and sirens, breaking all speed limits between me and that hospital in order to get to her. And of course, no one will give out any information over the phone so, I am still in total darkness about her condition as I race through the streets.
I pull up to the emergency entrance of the hospital and jump out, running for the door with Dave on my heels. I head straight for the information desk, flashing my badge as I urgently tell the volunteer who greets me who I’m looking for.
Examining the computer screen, she says, “Yes, Ms. Colby is in cubicle number 14, Detective.”
Tossing the cruiser keys to Conner, I turn and sprint past the desk into the emergency treatment area, frantically watching the numbers as I go … 11, 12, 13 … 14!
“Sam!” I push aside the curtain as I rush into the small space and there she lays, on a gurney, eyes closed, looking pale and small. “Oh, God,” I whisper.
Suddenly, her eyes flutter open and she looks up at me with those big, bright green jewels.
“Josh!”
I rush to her side, taking her into my arms and squeezing her tightly to me. “Oh, thank you! Thank you, God,” I whisper as I hold her, and she softly cries. I let go of her and gently take her face into my hands, looking intently into her eyes. “I was so scared, baby. I saw your car and my heart stopped.”
“I was scared to,” she says tearfully. “When that truck blew up, and I couldn’t get out of the car! And that poor driver! It was so awful, Josh. That poor man!”
I fold her into my arms again and she shudders as she cries softly. “Are you okay, baby?” I ask, gently running my hands down her arms as I look her over, feeling her, reassuring myself that she’s safe. She has a small bandage on her forehead, beneath which I can see stitches, another bandage on her left arm and a few scrapes and bruises on her legs but, other than that, she looks none the worse for wear. “What are the doctors saying?”
Pierced: Pierced Trilogy Boxed Set Page 84