by Vonnie Davis
The captain stood and pulled out his cell. What kind of car is she driving and what section of 896 is she on? Can she give us a landmark? I’m calling the police.”
“She has an older white Toyota Rav 4. Graci-Ella can you see a business to give us an idea where you are?”
“I passed Pete’s fruit stand a while back. Now I’m driving along trees.” Her scream, followed by a horrible, loud crash sounded. Then silence. Ice did a free-fall through Boyd’s system and, for a moment, he was paralyzed.
“The police are on their way. Team B for ambulance one, take off.”
Milt stood and so did Sam. “Boyd, come with us. We’ll have you there in no time. I know the area she’s in. Pete sells good produce. I been there many a time.” Milt rushed for the door, tooting as he bustled along. “Come on, time’s a waistin’ and she needs us.”
Boyd glanced at the captain for permission to leave on his shift, not that he’d listen to a negative response.
The captain waved him on. “Do what you need to do, Boyd. I’ve got your back.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Although Boyd had heard many tales of Milt’s driving exploits, he’d never ridden with him before. Boyd had barely gotten the squeaky back door shut when Milt shifted the Cutlass-Duct-Tape-Mobile in gear and took off. Boyd reached for the seat belts and Milt told him the seatbelts hadn’t worked since oh-four. Pieces of foam peeked out from between strips of duct tape on the seat covers.
As the car pealed out onto the street, there were two loud backfires from the front before the car backfired in return. Milt leaned over the steering wheel, his hands white-knuckled. “That girl seemed awful nice. If that bastard did anything to her, I’ve got a crowbar in my trunk that’ll fit mighty fine up that moron’s ass.” He passed two cars on the left and Boyd pinched his eyes shut.
Milt cussed at a slow-moving compact. “Buy American next time! Maybe you’ll get to where you’re goin’ quicker.” The driver gave him the finger and Milt held up a large Buccaneers Red foam hand with all the fingers stapled down, except for the middle one, and waved it out of the window.
Ben reached for Milt’s arm. “Now, you know this kind of behavior isn’t good for your heart. Drive with some damn sense. We’ll get to her in time. We have to. Poor kid’s probably scared to death. My Molly always was when she had car trouble.”
Milt leaned farther over the steering wheel. “Is that a black pick-up ahead? Do you see her car?”
Boyd did and his stomach turned. Her car was wrapped around a tree. The ambulance wailed behind them and, thank God, Milt pulled over to let them pass. Sam turned in his seat and gave him a hard look. “You okay, son? You’re awfully…awfully…what’s that word for white?”
“Pale,” Milt replied as he bounced the old car back onto the road again, barreling down on the scene of the accident.
“That’s it. You’re looking pale, Teeny.”
He couldn’t bring himself to correct Sam that it was Tiny, not Teeny. Dementia often screwed with one’s vocabulary. So, he rubbed his hands over his face, hoping to bring some color to it. “Sam, I just need to know she’s okay. Then I’m going to kill the motherfucker for what he did to her.”
Milt passed a long string of gas. “Sounds like love to me. Right, Sam?” Milt braked the car, and Boyd was out and running. Dear God, let her be okay. Let her be alive.
Graci-Ella’s air bag was deployed, so he crawled over the roof of the car and leaned in while ambulance crews worked. “Sweetness. Sweetness, do you hear me? Don’t move. Not yet. Ivy Jo and Jace are here to get you out.”
“Boyd?”
“That’s right, baby. I’m here. We’re going to get you out and to the hospital. I won’t leave.” And he wouldn’t either. He couldn’t. The feelings he was developing for her were sweet, yet strong. There was one word to describe them all, but he was afraid to admit it might be something that serious already. But it was time he did. When he wasn’t looking for it, didn’t want it, couldn’t handle it, love wrapped its strong tentacles around his heart. It didn’t mean he loved Matt less. It meant he’d finally opened his heart to a different kind of love.
Jace held Graci-Ella’s head immobile while Ivy Jo attached a neck brace. All the while they asked her questions.
Boyd slid back off the other side of the roof. He rounded her car, heading toward Darryl who was resisting arrest. The bastard broke free and one of the officers tazed him. While he was down, they handcuffed and put zip-strips on his ankles. Both policemen hauled him to the back of the cruiser and strapped him in. Darryl kept making verbal threats against Graci-Ella for getting him fired and called her a cock tease who needed taught a lesson.
If there was ever a man Boyd wanted to work over, it was this mouthy lowlife. He shook with the effort to retain self-control. God, how he wanted to rip him apart. Going to court for custody of Matt would be a lost cause if he had an arrest for assault against Darryl. And, in the end, Darryl would be the winner.
Boyd spoke to one of the arresting officers. “I have the woman’s call recorded on my cell if you need it for court. She called me to ask what kind of vehicle Darryl drove. During the conversation, he started ramming her car.” The one officer took his name and pertinent information before they took off with their offender. Another police car arrived to investigate the accident.
Ivy Jo and Jace were placing Graci-Ella onto the gurney when Boyd returned to inquire about her condition. Jace was good at initial assessments. “She has a concussion from hitting her head on the passenger window. You can see cuts where she shattered the glass. It’s an older car with no side airbags. She’ll eventually have two black eyes, plus she has a broken or sprained wrist from the front airbag deploying.”
“It’s only sprained. I’ve had them before. I can tell.” Graci-Ella spoke with the knowledge of a full-fledged doctor.
Jace grinned. “Broken or sprained wrist, bruised internal organs—not sure about any internal bleeding—and a banged up knee. Could have been much worse.”
Rage burned a path through Boyd’s body. “This lady hadn’t done one thing to that bastard Darryl. Boyd sensed an “I’m not even until I’m one ahead” mentality about the kid, but he never in a million years suspected he’d take revenge out on her, especially to this extent. My God, her head was bleeding and, for all they knew, there might be internal bleeding too.
“Boyd, could you get my purse and sunglasses? See if you can pull down the back seat and get into my trunk for my camera equipment and briefcase? The car’s totaled and they’ll have to tow it to a junk yard.”
“Sure thing.” He crawled into her car, saw the blood on what remained of her passenger side window and felt his own blood boil. After slipping her sunglasses in her purse, he removed the CD in her player, figuring it was her favorite, and opened the glove compartment to retrieve her registration papers. He crammed the whole works into her purse. Delving into her rear seat, he pulled the tab to lower the back of the bench and reached into the hatchback for her tripod, camera and briefcase.
He tucked her purse next to her on the gurney while Ivy Jo treated the cuts to the side of her head and face. Graci-Ella was asking about scars. Boyd pivoted and gave the rest of her stuff to Milt, asking him to take care of it. “Will do, son. You know that. Poor sweet darling. I’ll put her stuff in my trunk right now.”
Boyd picked up Graci-Ella’s uninjured hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles. “Do you want me to ride in the ambulance with you?” He didn’t want to leave her side. His heart hadn’t pounded a normal beat since he’d gotten her call. He’d feared he’d lose her before he’d had a chance to build a relationship with her and Matt. Was such a thing even possible? Maybe she didn’t like children. Maybe Matt couldn’t handle someone new in their lives.
Their eyes connected and she cupped Boyd’s cheek. There seemed to be a connection between them, already, after so short a time. “Yes, please. I want you with me.” She blinked. “Both of you. Don’t move so much. So
metimes I see three of you, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. How long will my vision be like this?” She started to panic and reached for him.
“They’ll do tests at the hospital and make you rest. Slowly things will return to normal.”
“Boyd’s right. Let’s head for the ER. You know,” Ivy Jo quipped, “it’s really not fair that an accident victim can look as pretty as you. Don’t you think she looks pretty, Tiny?” Ivy Jo nudged him, jerked her head toward the woman he’d barely been able to stop staring at and made a facial sign as if to say, “Pay her a compliment, dumbass.”
“As scared as I was on my way here, pretty doesn’t begin to cover it. You have no idea the horrible scenes that flashed through my mind.” He trailed his fingers down Graci-Ella’s soft cheek. “There’s no word to describe you, but beautiful.”
“Huh, the only time he’s told me I was beautiful was when I shot a three-pointer at one of our basketball games, and we were on the same side.”
Graci-Ella glanced at Ivy Jo and winced. “Note to self: Don’t move your head. You play basketball, Ivy Jo? I knew there was a reason I liked you. Did you play collegiate?”
“Two years at Florida State, then momma got cancer, dad walked out on the family and I had to come home to care for her and my brothers. How about you?”
“Oh, Ivy Jo, I’m sorry. What a rough way to go.”
She made a time out sign. “I can’t dwell on it or I get mad as hell at my so-called dad. Tell me where you played.”
“UConn. National Camps four years running. All American point guard.” She grimaced and placed a palm on her head. “The rougher the game, the better. Yet, I allowed that nutcase in the truck to scare the bejesus out of me.” Pain was evident as she spoke in fits and starts.
“Shhh. You don’t have to talk, baby. Your head has to hurt like hell.
Her gurney was locked in place, an IV inserted and Boyd on a seat beside her. Ivy Jo drove and Jace took shotgun, relaying the information to the hospital.
“I need to toughen back up. I was always a monster on the court…and…a bitch on wheels in real life. Now I’m more like modern scooter. What do they call them? Ah…a two wheeled gyroscope.”
Her blue eyes focused on Boyd, although even he could tell from his experience, they were out of focus. She was definitely concussed. “I didn’t know who else to call, but co-workers. Felt safer calling you. Hope that was okay.”
He pressed his lips to the palm of her hand. “Had you called anyone else, I’d have been damned upset. Are you in much pain?”
“Only when I move my head…or think of my demolished car…and how my parents are going to react when they hear about this. That car was my graduation gift from college. They weren’t happy when I moved south to the land of year-round sun after I passed the bar and was hired at a law firm in Tampa. Dad kept repeating ‘hurricanes and tsunamis’ and dire predictions of flooding.”
She wrapped both of her hands around his. “Thank God, you came.”
His heart did a double flip-flop. “Baby, I’ll always come when you need me. That’s a given.” There was no doubt she touched a hungry part of his heart. “Hey, you guys have an ice pack for her eyes? They’re starting to swell.”
“Second row, bottom drawer.” Jace pointed. “You know how to snap ’em to get them to work.”
Boyd gently placed the pack over her eyes. “Are you an only child?” He had to change the topic before his mind went down a road it had no business being on. He hadn’t given a thought to Matt growing up and moving away. The little squirt wouldn’t dare leave him; he’d built his whole life around his son. Once this damnable custody hearing was over, Boyd needed to build some relationships beyond his son and his co-workers at the station. He could invite couples with kids Matt’s age over for a barbeque. Have parties. Date. Date this wonderful woman in front of him.
Graci-Ella lifted the ice pack, a look of sadness passing across her face. “I had a brother, Eli. He was three years older, but he was broadsided by a truck on black ice and died instantly.”
“Oh hell, Sweetness. I’m sorry to hear about that.”
“Then you understand.”
“Understand what?” She was taking him in circles, he was starting to get dizzy, himself.
She fumbled for his hand. “Why my parents can’t know about this accident. They don’t need to find out, do they? I mean, after losing one child this way. To even hint that I might be seriously hurt, which I’m not, would be cruel to them. They’re in Maryland. I’m in Florida. Why have them travel down here in a state of fright over some cuts and bruises? Promise me you won’t tell them.”
Boyd thought about how he’d feel if Matt had a few cuts and bruises. He’d go purely crazy. “Honey, I don’t know if I can live up to a promise like that. I feel they deserve to know.”
“But they’ve been through so much all ready. My parents grieved in their own ways. Dad worked more hours. Mom clung to me as if I were her lifeline. I was a junior in high school and became the sole focus of her life. She nearly smothered me to death. If I wanted to go to the mall with some of the girls, Mom insisted on traipsing along. The same with movies and parties. Soon, I wasn’t included in the group anymore. So when a scholarship arrived from UConn, I took it. Dad understood, plus he enjoyed the money he saved in tuition and stuff. He used part of it to buy me that car. Claimed it would be safe. And a truck got it…just like Eli’s.” A tear trickled down her cheek as the ambulance pulled under the brick cover of the hospital’s emergency rooms entrance.
A car horn blasted as it whizzed around the portico.
Jace shook his head and laughed, before reaching back to pat Boyd’s shoulder. “You got company buddy. The duct-tape-mobile just streaked by.”
“Have you seen Milt’s Buccaneers Red foam hand with all the fingers stapled down except for the middle one? If I hadn’t been out of my mind with worry over Graci-Ella, I’d have hidden on the floor in embarrassment. Good Lord, the man can go from lovable to batshit crazy in the blink of an eye.”
The EMT’s jumped out of the ambulance and rolled their patient from the vehicle. They rushed her inside and emergency hospital personnel transferred her to a bed in a curtained off area. Jace handed the nurse his assessment form, and he and Ivy Jo headed toward the door with the gurney. “Call the station as soon as you hear anything.” Jace clasped Boyd’s shoulder. “She’ll be all right. You hear me? I can see how you feel about her. Like I do my wife; falling in love with her was so easy. Time you face up to your emotions, man.”
Boyd glanced at her examination area and spun toward the two wild-eyed men, both of them tooting by now, barreling in through the emergency doors, pumping their arms as if to give them more momentum. “Yeah, Jace, I hear ya. Her wreck forced me to face a lot of things. I’m still coming to grips with that.” He glanced over his shoulder at the two older men. “Then there are these two to contend with. Think the nurses here will give me some ‘nervy-dervies’ to handle the Gas Brothers?”
Within a few minutes, the nervous trio sat in the waiting room. Milt offered to go for coffee for the three of them. As soon as he was out of earshot, Sam slid over onto the plastic chair next to Boyd. “Tiny, need to ask you something. We both know I’ve got this dementia issue. I forget things I shouldn’t. Get confused easily. I slip into moods where I act like a scary sombitch.” He glanced in the direction Milt had gone. “But don’t you think Milt turns crazy as a polka dot patch, in a crazy quilt every time he gets behind the wheel of a car? Tell me I’m not confused in the head about this.” Sam’s expression pleaded for Boyd to agree with him or at least acknowledge his friend acted odd at times.
Poor old soul. Not to know if what you thought was correct or an errant imagination must add an extra layer of confusion to his life. “Between us, Sam. Milt’s a hell of a nice guy. He’s got his quirks, but then we all do.” Sam nodded. “I don’t get it either, Sam. Put that nice man behind the wheel of a car and he turns into a freaking, screaming
lunatic.”
“Whew. I’m glad you noticed it too. I thought I was imagining it. What do you think I can do to help him?”
Oh boy, this is going to be a case of the blind leading the blind. Boyd ran his hand through his hair. “Well, I did notice when you reminded him about his blood pressure and kind of took charge for a minute, he calmed down some.”
“Yeah but, hell’s bells, if I do that too often, he’ll just duct tape my mouth shut.”
He didn’t know if it was what the old man said or the way he said it, but Boyd laughed until he didn’t think he could laugh any more. Once he got himself under control, he told Sam he’d have Quinn talk to Milt about some anti-anxiety medicine—nothing strong—just enough to help with the road rage this nice old coot had.
Sam nodded. “If Milt’ll listen to anybody, it would be Quinn. You know they were neighbors for three years. The two of them are close, real close. You’ll mention this to Quinn then?”
“I think it’s something that needs done, don’t you?”
Tension seemed to lift from the old man. “Yes. I do. I love him like a brother, but hell’s bells some days I want to rip my ballcap off and beat some sense into him with it.” Sam glanced down the corridor and grinned. “Well, would you look at this?”
Boyd peered in the direction Sam indicated. Milt was walking—or would one call it strutting—beside an attractive young nurse who held the three cups of coffee. Milt, in his aqua floral shirt, khaki shorts, lime green knee socks and black sandals carried bags of snacks and openly flirted with her. By the blush on her cheeks, she enjoyed his attention. They laughed, and when she leaned down to say something to him, he hip bumped her and danced a few steps.
“What the hell do you think they’re talking about?” Boyd might have to take lessons from the old coot on how to charm a woman. Damn, if it didn’t look like things were going okay for him.
The two reached the waiting room and Milt placed the snacks on an empty chair before he took the cups of coffee from her. “The dance steps go like this, sweetcakes.” He took her in his arms and sang a tune while he stepped her through some moves around the waiting room, executed a twirl and a dip. Others in the waiting room clapped their hands in surprise at the impromptu exhibition.