Afraid to Lose Her

by Syndi Powell

  Dez’s phone buzzed, and he glanced at it, frowning. “I don’t need this. Not today.”

  Sherri looked up. “What is it?” she asked.

  He replied, “Ras got a break in the case.”

  He typed into his phone, but she reached out and stopped his fingers. Sherri wanted him to stay, but she knew she needed to let him go. “You should leave.”

  He smirked at that. “Nice try, but I’m sticking this out with you.”

  “This is only the first treatment of about eight, so you can come with me to another one later.” She squeezed his hand. “Mama will be here to watch over me and send you updates.” She nodded toward the door. “Go.”

  Dez refused. “No. I promised I’d be here for you.”

  “What are you going to do besides watch the poisons drip into my body? I don’t need you.” A lie, but she couldn’t keep him here. He needed to leave more than she needed him to stay.

  His eyes peered into hers, and she looked away so that he couldn’t see how much she wanted him to change her mind. Finally, he asked, “Are you sure?”

  She pretended that the relief on his face didn’t hurt. “Positive. You’ll come with me on the next one.”

  Dez leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Text me if you need me.”

  She agreed, but she knew she wouldn’t. He had a job to do, and while she wished that she could go with him and solve this case, he had to be given the space to do it. He texted Ras, then walked out, leaving her with Mama, who sat knitting.

  Sherri flipped a few pages of the magazine on her lap, wishing she could keep her mind on the articles rather than on the man who’d just left.

  * * *

  DEZ MET RAS at the location he’d texted him, a parking lot of a warehouse near the Detroit River. He recognized Ras’s car, a dark blue Pontiac, and parked near it. Ras stood by the pier, looking across the river to Windsor. Dez checked to make sure his gun was still holstered at his side. “You got a lead?”

  Ras turned, his face grim. “I’m sorry I had to take you away from the hospital. I know how important today is.”

  “She understands the job.” Dez glanced around the area, but didn’t recognize the place. It wasn’t the same warehouse they’d raided only weeks before. “What did you find out?”

  “The shooter, I think.”

  There’d been more than one, but Dez didn’t contradict him. “He knows who our leak is?”

  “Maybe. Word came in this morning about a drug runner that was bragging he’d killed a federal agent during the raid.” Ras consulted his notepad and pointed at the warehouse. “He works here days and probably smuggles drugs over the border at night.”

  “Name?”

  “Omarian Jones.” He handed Dez a picture that looked like a mug shot. “He’s been in for possession with intent to sell.”

  Dez paused, remembering the name popping up in Reilly’s report and that Sherri had picked up on it, as well. There had to be something behind it. “You’re sure?”

  “If we can trust the intel, yes.” Ras squinted at the sun that beat down on them and raised a hand to shield his eyes. “I figure we go in and question Jones. See where it leads.”

  “As good a plan as any, I guess.”

  Dez checked his gun again before starting toward the warehouse. They followed the signs to the main administrative office and flashed their badges at the receptionist who greeted them. Ras gave her Jones’s name, and she asked them to wait while she contacted him in the building. They heard her page him over the intercom, requesting he come to the office. Dez glanced out the window and saw a figure running across the parking lot. He tore out of the office and after the man, Ras right on his heels.

  Jones darted between cars, but Dez kept an eye on his progress and narrowed the gap between them. “Running makes you look guilty, Jones!”

  The man turned, gun in hand, and squeezed off a shot in his direction. A car window next to Dez shattered. Pulling his gun from the holster, Dez took cover behind an SUV and waited before moving low between cars in the direction he’d seen Jones run. It seemed Jones had gotten to the numerous shipping containers waiting on the pier.

  Ras caught up to Dez, his gun drawn. “Which way?”

  He pointed. “You go left. I’ll take the right.”

  Ras gave a nod and moved off to the left of the closest group of containers. Dez took a deep breath and peeked around the metal container to the right, trying to locate Jones, but there was no sign of him. Dez stayed close to the container and ran down an aisle between the next two, his gun level with his face. He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Jones standing with a gun trained on him. Dez held his hands up, but kept his gun ready just in case. “Hey, man. We just want to talk.”

  Jones scoffed at this and kept his gun aimed at Dez. “That’s what all the cops say, but then bullets go flying.”

  “I’m Border Patrol investigating the shoot-out at a drug warehouse last month. You familiar?” Jones didn’t answer out loud, but his face changed and Dez knew he had the right man. “Jones, let’s put our guns down and talk this through.”

  Jones shook his head, and his finger twitched on the trigger. “I’m not stupid.”

  “Didn’t say you were.”

  Dez waited for Jones to make a move, but he was stationary with his gun drawn. He was counting on Ras getting into position, since their voices were surely carried on the June breeze. A motion behind Jones confirmed this, so Dez slowly started to bend down to the ground, his eyes remaining on Jones. “I’m going to put my gun down now to show you I only want to talk. And then you lower yours, okay?”

  Jones shook his head, and Dez could see his finger twitch again as it rested on the trigger. “So your partner can shoot me? Not happening!”

  Dez took a small step toward the man. “Who in your crew is talking to the feds, Jones?”

  The man grimaced, his gun starting to lower an inch. “They’re not stupid, either. We don’t play that way.”

  “Someone talked. That’s how we knew where to find you.” Dez paused and estimated the distance between the two of them. If he could take four more steps, he’d be close enough to disarm Jones if it came to it. He took another small step forward. “Unless it was you who sold the information to the DEA. How much is the going rate for intel these days?”

  The gun came up, and Jones pulled the trigger. Dez dove to the side as more gunshots filled the air. He covered his head with his arms and rolled, expecting the sudden pain of a bullet piercing his body. He’d never get the chance to tell Sherri he loved her. Never see her again. He’d break his promise of helping her through her cancer if he died.

  The thought of a life without Sherri seemed impossible. Unbearable, even. He couldn’t live without her. And now it seemed, he wouldn’t even get that choice.

  But no pain came. He saw Jones on the ground, Ras standing above him. Dez stood and grabbed his gun. He also grabbed his phone and dialed 911. He gave the details of the shoot-out, then hung up and noticed he had a text. He’d check it later.

  Ras had kicked Jones’s gun away from him, and the man lay in a fetal position, groaning and clutching his leg. Ras kept his gaze on Jones, but asked Dez, “You okay?”

  “Thanks to you,” Dez told him and meant it.

  Ras gave a short nod and nudged Jones with his shoe. “You have about fifteen minutes to tell us your story before the police get here. And we have better prisons than they do.”

  “You shot me!” Jones shouted.

  “You shot at my partner. Think of it as karma.” Ras leaned down to Jones. “Now, who is it that’s selling information?”

  Jones called Ras and his mother a bunch of bad names.

  Dez crouched down and cuffed Jones, then helped him to his feet. “Ambo’s almost here. We can try questioning him
at the hospital before we hand him over to Detroit’s finest.”

  “And you can get back to your girl,” Ras added.

  Dez needed to get back to her. To tell her that he loved her, too. And that he wanted to take things to the next step. No more trying to keep up the pretense of what was normal. Because there was no normal anymore. If her cancer showed them anything, it should be that life was for living, not waiting.

  Dez could hear sirens in the distance. He whispered into Jones’s ear, “I bet you’re our rat. You definitely smell like you took the cheese.”

  “I didn’t tell the feds anything.” Jones twisted his hands in the cuffs, insisting they were wrong about him.

  “Then who did?”

  Jones shook his head. “I’m not telling you. I don’t have a death wish.”

  “But now that you’re in our custody, you should feel safer to talk.” Dez faced him. A spasm in Dez’s neck made him uncomfortable, and he was tempted to reach up and massage it away. Something was off. “What’s going on, Jones?”

  A shot rang out, hitting Jones between the eyes. Blood splattered onto Dez, and he ran for the nearest shipping container, desperate for whatever cover he could find.

  Ras had his gun drawn, pointed in the direction where the shot had come from. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  Dez moved out into the open, Ras joining him. He closed his eyes and wiped blood from his face. “This is very, very bad. A suspect dies in handcuffs while in our custody?”

  Ras looked around and gestured to where the shooter had probably waited, the balcony of a nearby apartment building. “Someone shot him from above. The ballistics will clear us.”

  “He was in our custody when it happened, though.” Dez felt sick. “This is bad.”

  “It could be worse.”

  “I thought that we finally had a break in this case. And now, we have nothing.”

  The ambulance pulled into the parking lot, and Ras went to meet the paramedics and inform them of Jones’s death. Dez was furious, knowing that recent events meant they weren’t any closer to the truth than they had been before coming after Jones.

  A police cruiser arrived. Dez knew his duty, knew he had to talk to the officers and give an accounting of what had happened. But just then, what he wanted to do most was to get back to the hospital and check on Sherri. To reassure himself that she was okay. That he still had time to tell her he loved her. To pursue a future with her. Because life without her wasn’t working. That fact had been hammered home and he wanted to be near her.

  He remembered the text that he’d ignored earlier and pulled out his phone. He swiped the screen to read it now and his heart sank.

  Sherri was in ICU.

  * * *

  SHE COULD HEAR a beeping. The sound was starting to annoy her, but the effort to open her eyes required more of her than Sherri was ready to give. The cool darkness comforted her, and she wanted to stay there for a little longer. Someone held her hand and murmured prayers. Mama. Her low voice was full of beseeching words, wanting Sherri to wake up. She knew she should obey.

  Her eyes flickered open, and she saw a white ceiling above her. To her left, monitors measured her heartbeat, oxygen rate and blood pressure. To her right, Mama sat, holding her hand and sobbing. Her dad stood by the window, looking out over the hospital roof.

  And Dez? She moved her head from side to side slowly, to scan the room, but he wasn’t there. She’d forgotten he’d been called away. But he would return. She needed him so much.

  Suddenly, Mama was staring at her and she cried out as Sherri reached up and touched her mom’s cheek. “Mija!” Mama turned to her dad. “Go tell the nurse she’s awake!”

  Her father hustled from the room. Sherri swallowed. Her tongue felt as if it had grown three times its normal size. “Water.”

  Mama clasped Sherri’s hand to her chest. “You scared us. I thought we would lose you.”

  “What hap...penned?”

  A nurse came into the room and checked Sherri’s vitals, then gave a nod to her parents. She turned back to Sherri with a soft smile. “Welcome back. How are you feeling?”

  She wasn’t sure how she felt. Her body seemed to have gained a hundred pounds, pushing her down into the bed, making her limbs heavy and ungainly. She swallowed a second time; even this required an effort. “Thirs...ty.”

  “I’ll get you some ice chips after I update Dr. Frazier on your condition.” She checked the levels of the IV. “I’ll also get more saline to keep flushing out the chemo drugs.” She looked down at Sherri. “You had an allergic reaction to one of the drugs in the cocktail and went into anaphylactic shock. They gave you epinephrine to reduce the swelling of your airways, and brought you here.”

  She remembered sitting in the chemo room, feeling as if she was choking. Then the room had gone black until she’d only just woken up a few minutes ago. “Dez?”

  Mama stepped forward. “I texted him to let him know.” Mama wouldn’t let her hand go, but clung to it as if doing so would keep Sherri there with them all and not in the darkness that had claimed her earlier. “He said he’d be here as soon as he finished with the police.”

  “Po...lice?”

  “He didn’t say more.”

  Her dad gripped the bed rails and said in a low voice, “I don’t like this, mija. That doctor almost killed you with that chemo.”

  Her mother frowned at him. “It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know Sherri would react that way.”

  “Isn’t she supposed to be there? When it’s happening” He waved his hands in the air. “Who has an allergic reaction to chemo?”

  “Me.” Sherri winced and closed her eyes. “Go...home?”

  A deeper voice answered. “They’ll probably keep you overnight to make sure you’re okay first.”

  She opened her eyes and smiled at the man standing in the doorway. “Dez.”

  He hurried to her side and stood next to Mama. “I came as soon as I could. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

  “It’s...o...kay. Here...now.”

  He leaned over and kissed the top of her head, and she closed her eyes, relishing the moment. Then she let herself float back into the darkness.

  * * *

  DURING HIS RETURN to the hospital, Dez had called the captain to let him know he’d be tied up for the rest of the day, but promised to keep in contact with Ras in case he was needed to answer more questions. He had to be in that hospital room even if all he could do was hold Sherri’s hand. He turned to Perla. “What happened? She was fine when I left.”

  “About five minutes after they started one of the drugs, she complained about being itchy. Then her tongue swelled up, and I had to scream for the nurse to come before she stopped breathing.” Perla still held Sherri’s other hand. “Allergic reaction, they said. It’s rare, but it’s happened to other patients before.”

  “It’s supposed to be helping her survive, but it almost kills her?” What kind of disease was this that the cure could cause just as much damage? He rubbed a thumb across the back of Sherri’s hand. Combined with what happened earlier at the warehouse, this only reinforced the “life is short” theory. That he needed to share his feelings with her before it was too late. “I should have been here,” he repeated.

  Perla shook her head. “You couldn’t have prevented anything.”

  He knew she spoke the truth, but his heart refused to accept it. If he’d been here, she would have been okay. He would have...

  What? He wasn’t a doctor. He would do anything to save her, sure, but what could he do in this situation?

  He took a seat in the chair beside Sherri’s hospital bed and leaned his elbows on his knees. His head in his hands, he closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath.

  Perla put a hand on his shoulder. “What matters is th
at you came back when she needed you.”

  He looked up at Perla and tried to smile, but it hurt too much. “I can’t lose her. I just can’t.” He turned to watch the rise and fall of Sherri’s chest. He stood and walked to the bed, pressed his lips against her forehead. “You have to fight this, my fierce warrior. Fight this and come back to me healthy and well.” He kissed her again then pulled the blanket over her shoulders.

  Perla and Horatio watched him as he ran his hand over her hair. When he turned to them, her mom whispered, “You love her.” She said it as a statement, not a question.

  He gave a soft nod and took Sherri’s hand in his. Pressed his lips there and watched her sleep. “Always.”

  * * *

  SHERRI WAS ALLOWED to go home that evening after rescheduling the first chemo session in two days’ time. That would give Dr. Frazier a chance to adjust the cocktail to avoid the one drug that Sherri couldn’t have. Lucky for her, there was an alternative that worked just as well. But the side effects were also stronger.

  Sherri closed her eyes as Mama drove her to her apartment. It seemed like they’d just left the hospital before her mom shook her awake. “We’re home.”

  Sherri blinked and looked up at the third-floor apartment. The thought of going up the stairs made her yawn. Mama noticed. “We’ll take the elevator, mija.”

  Once she was in the apartment, Sherri claimed the sofa and sat down. Mama shut the front door and locked it. “Are you hungry? I can make us some dinner.”

  Sherri shook her head and lay down, pulling the blanket from the back of the sofa over her. “Daddy’s probably waiting for you at home.”

  Mama put her purse and keys on the kitchen counter. “I already told him I’m spending the night here with you.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She couldn’t let her mother spend more time trying to take care of her. She had to do it on her own. Had to be strong and independent. But at the moment it tired her to think of it all. She’d think of it later.