by Andrea Drew
After maybe twenty seconds, as he ran back a few paces to charge at the door, it opened. An old man appeared a foot or two away. The worm, Walkley stood in the doorway, surveying him with a pinched expression on his face.
Yeah, you got reason to be worried asshole. I’m about to make life as uncomfortable as humanly possible.
Not that he considered Walkley to be human; preying on the vulnerable put him in the parasite category well and truly.
“Detective Reardon.”
He thrust the rumpled piece of paper under his nose, suppressing the urge to shove it further. He pushed past him and headed toward the main reception desk, stepping toward the computer with heavy footsteps.
He put his hands on his hips, fingers brushing on his weapon for reassurance. He probably wouldn’t need it, but when assholes like Walkley suspected their secrets would be revealed in the not too distant future, the unpredictability factor shot off the scale.
“Does the computer have a password?”
“Yes, it does.”
“Boot it up and put it in. I need access to your files and financial records.” Walkley didn’t move. “Now.” Connor drew his lips together, biting his teeth together, hard.
“I don’t know it. My colleague does.”
“We’ll go through the clinic for now then, and your paper files. Detective Sheehan, I’m sure, will apprehend Regan as he makes his attempted escape. Why do you have a medical clinic inside an adoption clinic? Seems obvious to me, but I’m very interested in what you have to say.”
Connor watched the clock and tapped his foot as Walkley attempted to form a response.
This had better be good.
***
As I pulled into the narrow road, slowing down despite my racing pulse and breath which burst out in short gasps, I swore loudly. Thankfully no one heard me. Other than Li that is, she hovered like an unseen mist, ever present and lingering.
−Bad man here. Bad man runs around back.
−Around the back, why?
−Escape, run away. Get the bad man.
Surely there’d be police to get the bad man. I wasn’t sure how many police would be there, whether Connor and Ryan would go it alone, as he’d advised, or whether they’d managed to get backup. Judging by Connor’s resentful grumbles though, it would be the dynamic duo.
−It’s okay, Li, Ryan will get the bad man.
−He hurt me and my friend. Lots of friends. Watch Ryan take the bad man away.
I sighed. I got the best jobs, it seemed.
Okay, I’ll watch, but only for you Li.
I waited for a response, but none came. She’d be waiting and watching. I started up the car and decided to move it closer to the alley. It wouldn’t hurt, either, to be out of sight of that large front window, the last thing I would need would be Connor’s gruffness for getting in the way. His desire to protect me hadn’t waned once. I guess I’d be annoyed if he didn’t care. No, scratch that. I’d be devastated.
I parked behind a black Hyundai and pushed the car door open. Slamming it shut, I looked and found a house, the second one down from the alley. A door smashed closed, hard.
Then a voice, Ryan’s voice. “Drop it, Regan.”
“Fuck off, pig.” Regan’s harsh guttural voice bounced off the brick walls.
I stifled a scream and my adrenaline spiked. Should I venture into the laneway or stay here where it was safe? Maybe I could wait until Ryan reached the street, ideally with Regan in handcuffs. That way I could keep my agreement with Li, but stay out of danger.
I could barely move anyway, frozen stiff.
“I said drop it. Do it!” Ryan’s tone increased in urgency, peaking at the end due a pitch of hysteria.
Shoot him, please. Put us all out of our misery.
I heard the clang of metal, something heavy landing on the ground. Then grunting and screaming. Shit, they were wrestling.
Stupidly, I ran to the end of the alleyway. The flash of silver on a uniform, and I saw Ryan on top of Regan, grappling against him, arms around Regan’s throat in a headlock, two forms in the shadowy night.
Then a white hairy arm snaked out, grasping for something, I heard metal again and something nicked my ear as it whizzed past.
A bullet.
Oh my god. I sunk onto the ground, sliding down a wooden fence.
The noise increased, and then Ryan had the gun to Regan’s head.
“Don’t move asshole!”
He turned to the right and swung Regan around roughly, grasping in his pocket and hooking his left elbow around Regan’s arms, which were behind his back.
Regan screamed, swearing at the top of his voice.
Then I heard what I had been waiting for.
The click of handcuffs. He shoved him forward and I cringed as they passed me within inches, and Ryan flicked me a glance with raised eyebrows.
I heard him speak in police jargon after he slammed a police door. Probably backup.
And so I waited.
***
Chapter 12
He’d done it. His mate had come through. The round eyes of the old man barely registered as he granted him access to the small, dark room at the back of his farm.
Adrenalin surged. In just a couple of hours, the moment he’d planned for time eternity would be his.
A hundred minutes compared to three years seemed surreal, but soon it would be. He smiled and hitched the duffle bag up over his shoulder and did up the buttons on his jacket. Lifting his hood, he headed outside. The bus would be along in around ten minutes.
***
Connor hadn’t seen her like this, but then she’d almost paid with her life. She trembled, her face grey as she sat frozen on the side of the bed.
“That was a close call.” Connor wrapped an arm around her back, rubbing life in to her. Thank god for Ryan, the Regan weasel had missed. Karma had saved her.
Connor had called in an additional unit once he heard shots fired, which thankfully hadn’t landed anywhere near Gypsy, although Regan might walk with a limp for a while.
The financial records, the medication, and the family files would be enough to investigate further and press charges against Walkley. Regan’s foregone conclusion of a conviction brought some sense of closure, particularly once he rolled over on Walkley in a bid to reduce his sentence. Attempted murder would get him at least ten years with a bit of luck.
“I’m going to have a shower,” he said after kissing her lightly.
She brought her head up slowly. “Wait, hang on sec. I haven’t had a chance to tell you...”
“Tell me what?”
“I’ve been waiting for the right time, but…” She wiped fingers across her brow. “I think we’re pregnant.”
For a moment, time froze. The news sunk in, little by little, until it hit home. A baby, they were having a baby, making a little person together.
His voice choked with tears. “You’re pregnant, a baby? Us?” The smile snuck across his face slowly at first, and then it broke free and took hold. He grabbed her, more gently this time, and kissed her on the neck before spinning her around.
She laughed weakly, bringing a shaking hand to her brow.
He set her down on the bed and stood back to survey her. Her pale face had changed to two small blossoms of pink on each cheek.
“I wasn’t sure…” she said.
“You’ve made me so happy. So happy… This is a new start for us”
“It might be a little boy…” said Gypsy quietly.
Yes, it might, if the planets aligned and he didn’t hope too much. They needed to celebrate, maybe a quick dinner at the bistro, the perfect time to present the ring he’d been hiding.
“We deserve this,” he said, “but right now we deserve a shower. Then let’s celebrate. We deserve this. Then I’ll head back to the station.”
She smiled, running her head down his chest. “I might rest for a bit if we’re going out.”
He kissed her and waited until s
he headed downstairs before turning on the shower. They only needed an hour, and then he could finalize paperwork. He didn’t want to leave her alone for too long.
***
Somehow I made it down the stairs on the wobbly stairs, inch by inch.
I paused at the bottom of the stairs, getting my breath back as I held onto the rail.
From there, the short shuffle to the couch winded me and I collapsed backward onto it.
I stared at the television unseeing, unregistering, exhausted, the trembling subsiding as the last of the shock left.
I thought I heard the words “Aaron Reardon” and “escapees” emanating from the television, but figured I was hallucinating after the scare.
Then the door creaked and there he stood. Still as disheveled and malignant as ever, the dirty blonde hair, shoulders heaving, a sly smile worming its way across his face.
He wasn’t here to make conversation this time.
“Suck on this, bitch,” he said quietly. Then a flash from the muzzle and my chest burned.
My mouth fell open and I sucked in air as hard as I could. A hand went to my chest and I brought it to my face. Crimson liquid spattered across it. It seemed so surreal, happening to someone else.
The door closed and sounds seemed far away, so I wasn’t sure if the banging on the stairs was real or imaginary. As I saw Connor’s face above mine, I realized it was real.
Life slipped away from me, seeping out of my bones and into the floor, to places unknown.
“It’s not a curse, it’s a gift.” I could barely speak, I had no breath left.
Then the room faded and I lifted above my body, staring down at Connor screaming at me to stay with him, stay with him. But I couldn’t, the pain wouldn’t let me.
Then sleep took over.
***
The harsh fluorescent lights and the incessant beeping of the intensive care unit barely registered. He watched the silent form on the bed beside him, her chest rising and falling.
Breathe, baby, breathe, that’s it. Keep that heart pumping for me, and for our baby boy.
I know you’re a fighter, always have been, always will be. Fight for us, for the life we imagined, for the years before us. Get back in that damn body. Don’t leave me, not like this, not now.
The surgeon had been out to advise him hours ago the heart surgery had gone as well as could be expected. Thankfully, the bullet had missed major arteries, against all odds, but then Gypsy had done so much for so many, it didn’t surprise him when he’d heard the news. He’d covered his mouth with one hand, collapsing into the seat and closing his eyes.
She would live.
No matter how long it took, he would wait by her side, for eternity if necessary.
Fabric swished behind him as a nurse whispered, “She’s over there.”
Then a small, light hand slid onto his right shoulder, a presence behind him.
Turning, he saw Renee standing to his right with a plant in her left hand, an azalea with a small purple bud ready to burst. The small straggly plant looked like he felt, in need of regeneration and barely hanging on.
“I was ordered to bring this.”
He didn’t respond, focusing his attention on the pale grey tiles with the black flecks running through them. He wondered if this was hell on earth, the constant searing pain gnawing at his chest, tugging at him, forcing him down.
“She’ll live through this, you know, she told me.”
The thought of turning to meet her gaze flicked briefly through his mind crammed with dismal thoughts before it frittered away.
“My aunt is right, though. It is a gift, not a curse.”
He flinched. As he stood, the chair screeched back and heads turned.
“Don’t talk to me about curses! Not now, not ever…”
Renee reached out to him, but he pulled his arm away from her as if scalded. He didn’t want to hear it, not now, not ever. She needed to be here now, breathing, kissing, holding him, whispering softly in his ear that their child would be the essence of both of them, a child of beauty and grace built with all of the love they had.
“She said by the time this bud becomes a flower, she’ll be there, the same as ever, giving you hell and saving every underdog in town. She says I’ll need her, the baby will and so will you. Wait for her.”
He covered his face with his hands. Oh, Gypsy, come back to me now. We need you, I can’t stand it.
“But you can.”
What? How the hell?
“When your gifts passed to her, I inherited the ability to read both you two. All three of us are linked forever now.”
His voice croaked, barely a whisper, “You plant it, I…can’t”
“I will. Remember what she said though. It won’t be long. You’ll need enough patience for both of you. She’ll probably need rehab, she says, but if she has anything to do with it, she’ll make a fast recovery. She’s good at them, remember.”
He wept then, unashamed, the fat tears swelling and filling his eyes, and he let them fall and drip onto the bare floor where they landed silently.
I’ll be waiting. I’ll always be waiting. For you and Mark, I’d wait an eternity.
But it wouldn’t be an eternity. Renee slid her hand around his neck then and hugged him properly with her slim, fragile arm, just as slender and beautiful as Gypsy’s. He’d get through this, as long as she lived.
***
The adventure continues . . .
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