Shadow Point Deputy

by Julie Anne Lindsey

  He kissed her again, and she parted her lips for him, inviting him deeper. Cole’s tongue swept into her mouth, and suddenly, she could think of several ways this could get better.

  Cole pulled back by a fraction and stared pointedly into her eyes. “Yes, but don’t go anywhere.”

  Rita fanned her cheeks as Cole went to grab the landline, still ringing rudely on the wall.

  “Garrett.” He shifted his gaze back to Rita. “Who’s calling?” Color bled from his ruddy cheeks. “One minute.” Cole returned to her side, phone extended. “It’s for you.”

  Rita pressed the phone to her ear, more terrified by the look on Cole’s face than by anything she’d seen or experienced all week. “This is Rita Horn.”

  Cole grabbed a T-shirt off the back of a nearby chair and tugged it over his head, then scooped keys and a wallet off the table by his front door.

  “Miss Horn,” the stranger’s voice began, “this is Mercy Medical Center. Your brother, Ryan Horn, has been in a serious car accident.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Rita jammed bare feet into untied running shoes. Ryan was hurt. A car accident. He was at the hospital, and she needed to go.

  Emergency Room doors...west wing...second floor.

  Cole had her purse and jacket over one arm. “Ready?”

  “Thank you.” She slid shaking arms into the sleeves of her hoodie and zipped it to her chin. A round of powerful tremors rattled her teeth and twisted her stomach. She’d forgotten about the truck. She’d forgotten about her own brother. She was a horrible sister. A terrible substitute parent. Mom would have never forgotten him.

  Cole opened the front door and held it for Rita to pass.

  A moment later, they were on their way to the hospital at unlawful speeds. The cruiser’s lights and sirens cleared a path as they moved through the compact downtown streets.

  Rita wound noodle arms around her middle, certain that losing Ryan would tear her in two. “The last communication I had with him was through text messages, and I argued with him about my truck. I never argue with him. Why would I do that?”

  Cole moved an open palm onto her thigh. “You were trying to keep him safe.”

  “Yeah,” she scoffed, “by lying to him. I promised to always be honest. Always be truthful, but I’ve been lying to Ryan since the minute I got involved in this mess with Minsk. I broke my promise.”

  Cole’s thumb swept across her skin in soothing waves. “This isn’t your fault. It was an accident. And he’s going to be okay.”

  Rita curled her fingers over his and pulled their joined hands to her cheek. This wasn’t the first time she’d rushed to the hospital after someone she loved had been in a car accident. “How do you know?”

  “He’s your brother, right? I bet he’s tough.”

  “He is.”

  Cole offered her an encouraging smile. “He’ll pull through this, and while he’s doing that, I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

  The last time she’d been in this situation, things hadn’t been okay. Not ever again. “My mom didn’t pull through.”

  Cole gave her a long look. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  No, she didn’t want to, but the words were already filling her mouth. The fear constricting her chest. “The man who hit my mother was in for his eleventh DUI when he was released due to overcrowding in the jails. A lot of low-level offenders were set free. I guess that was what he was until he killed my mother. Not that he was charged with her death. Wasn’t the first time he’d been incarcerated for driving under the influence or the first time he’d been released without a license, only to get behind the wheel again. Drunk.”

  Cole’s strong expression crumbled. Heartbreak swam in his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

  “He didn’t actually hit her,” Rita blabbed on. “Nothing like that. He was just going the wrong way on the highway at night. My mom swerved, attempting not to die in a head-on collision. Ironic, right? The only life she saved was the drunk’s. He got off with a slap on the wrist and a stern talking-to. His lawyer argued that he didn’t hit her. She’d acted on her own. He said maybe she saw a deer or something. That was the defense’s argument. How could we prove that she’d swerved to miss the drunk driver? He got another DUI, a frowny face for driving without a license and some nonsense about not obeying traffic signs. He’s probably out there now, doing it again.”

  “Rita.” Cole’s voice was husky and thick with regret.

  The hospital came into view, tall and regal on the horizon. A giant red cross stretched from the roof with the word Mercy emblazoned in white across its middle.

  “I’m fine.” Rita released Cole’s hand in favor of unbuckling her seat belt and wiping her face. The tears had dried as suddenly as they’d come. “The hospital said Ryan swerved.”

  Cole left his cruiser in valet parking, but took the key and darted around to meet Rita.

  She was already making strides toward the sliding glass doors.

  “Where are we going?” Cole asked, taking her hand once more.

  “He’s in surgery.” She racked her brain to remember the voice from the phone. “Second floor, I think.”

  “I know that one. That’s the trauma unit. Come on.” He pulled her into a jog, bypassing the giant silver elevator in favor of a doorway marked Stairs.

  The second floor waiting room was vast but silent. Bitter scents of burned coffee and popcorn hung in the air, creeping in from the main hall. A sleeping woman tipped awkwardly in one chair, having apparently fallen asleep while knitting, needles still in her hands, yarn on her lap.

  Cole kept moving until they reached the nurses’ station. “This is Rita Horn. I’m Deputy Cole Garrett. We received a call that her brother, Ryan Horn, was in a car accident. He’s in surgery now.”

  The woman slid a clipboard onto the counter. Her chair knocked against the table, spilling an open bag of microwave popcorn over her workstation. Rita’s stomach knotted at the sight of it. “Miss Horn, you were listed as Ryan’s next of kin. Is there anyone else you’d like us to notify for you?”

  “No. I’ll take care of that.”

  “I don’t mind,” the woman pressed. “I know this is hard.”

  Rita shot her a disbelieving look. Did she know? How could she? When was the last time she’d gotten a call like this about her baby brother? Rita bit her tongue against the building tirade. “Our dad’s overseas. I don’t even know where, exactly.” Government secrets and all. She fought an internal eyeroll. Once again she was on her own to deal with a family crisis while the supposed head of the household was off to who-knew-where. “He has a number and an email address that he checks when he can. I’ll handle it.” She took the clipboard. “What’s this?”

  “We’ll need your brother’s complete medical history, insurance and contact information. Also, your brother is an organ donor. If you have any questions about that, I’m prepared to answer them.”

  Rita hugged the clipboard to her chest. “I’m well informed on that matter. Thank you. What I need to know is how my brother is doing.” Tears began to fall once more, ruining her attempt to look strong when Ryan needed her.

  “I won’t know any more than you do until he’s out of surgery.”

  Rita whipped the clipboard in the air, desperate to smack something with it, and knowing she just looked crazy. A rough sob ripped through her.

  The nurse’s expression turned solemn. “I’m sorry.”

  Cole dragged Rita against him, wrapping strong arms around her back and cradling her head to his chest. “Can you tell us anything about what happened?” he asked the woman behind the desk.

  “No. Only that he was involved in a car accident. Maybe someone at the sheriff’s department will have more details.”

  “Thank you. You’ll let us know as soon as he’s out of surgery?”

  �
�A doctor will find you.”

  Cole led Rita to an exterior terrace on the opposite end of the floor. “I need to make some calls. It’s private here.”

  Rita took a seat, unsure if her legs would hold her up much longer. Beyond the glass, a cafeteria with neon lights promised Good Food! Cold Drinks!

  Cole worked a phone from the pocket of his shorts and flipped it open. “Burner,” he explained. “I lose more phones than you’d think. I have a few of these for emergencies.” He pressed the buttons on a tiny keypad, then caught the phone between his ear and shoulder.

  Three calls and ten minutes later, Cole lowered into a squat before her. “Lomar was the deputy on scene at Ryan’s accident. He said Uncle Henry was the first responder. That’s very good news. Henry’s the best. I’ve put a call in to him, too.”

  Rita lifted her eyes to Cole’s, buoyed by the small measure of hope. “Did you talk to Lomar?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was Ryan driving my truck?” She braced herself for the answer she feared was coming.

  “Yes.”

  A rush of breath swept from her lungs. This was the very thing she’d feared most. Ryan had taken her truck, then someone had mistaken him for her and tried to kill him. She didn’t need to hear the details to know that was the truth of it. Ryan was a careful driver, and her truck was in sound condition. An accident today, after the day she’d had seemed highly unlikely.

  Ryan was in critical condition and it was her fault. “Was he alone?” she asked, realizing the roommate he was helping move might’ve somehow gotten wrapped up in her mess, too. What if the other kid hadn’t been as lucky as Ryan? Ryan had at least made it into surgery.

  That was more than her Mom had.

  “He was alone,” Cole said. “I have some limited details now. They’re yours if you want them, but if you want to wait until you know Ryan’s out of surgery, there’s no rush.”

  Images of Ryan’s crash, or her mind’s version of it anyway, raced through her head. He had to be okay. She couldn’t live in a world where her determination to help an injured kitten had caused her brother’s eventual death.

  “I want to know.” She pressed her palms against her knees. “I want to know everything you know. Please.”

  Cole nodded. “Okay. First, why don’t you call your dad?” He tipped his phone in her direction. “Then we can move to the waiting area and watch for the doctor to come out of surgery.”

  * * *

  COLE FOLLOWED RITA to a pair of chairs near the window. The call to her father had been short and sweet. A message on a voice mail. There was nothing else she could do.

  “Okay,” she said. “Tell me what you know.”

  “Deputy Lomar was the responding officer,” he began. “Dispatch pulled him from the marina after a witness called to report the accident.”

  “There was a witness?” Hope lit her beautiful face.

  “Yes. A jogger says she saw your truck moving at questionable speeds on the county route between the college and Crestmont Hills in Rivertown.”

  “That’s Ryan’s neighborhood.”

  “The jogger said the truck was speeding and heading into a dangerous curve. She assumed he wasn’t paying attention, or maybe he’d been drinking, but when Ryan passed her, she got a look at his face. She described him as terrified. Stiff armed. The truck was loaded with furniture, the hill he was headed down was steep, and she was right, he didn’t make the curve at the bottom. He lost control and hit a tree. Based on the damage to your truck, Lomar estimates Ryan attempted a twenty-mile-per-hour curve at more than fifty. Also, there weren’t any tire marks on the pavement.”

  “He didn’t use the brakes?” Rita pressed the heels of her hands against red eyes. “I don’t suppose the jogger happened to notice an evil psychopath in a black sedan nearby.”

  “No. There were no other cars at the time of the accident. I think we should count that as a blessing,” Cole said. “No one could have maneuvered the truck around traffic at those speeds.”

  “Right.” Rita raked her hands through her hair and gripped the back of her head. “So we can assume someone cut the brakes. Obviously, this was the same person who’s been trying to kill me all day, and now they’ve nearly killed Ryan, instead.”

  “We don’t know anything for certain,” Cole cautioned. “Lomar’s looking into it now. He’ll be here when he finishes.”

  Rita clenched her jaw. “I just had the truck serviced, and it was fine when I drove it home before Ryan borrowed it. The only way there wouldn’t be any tire marks from this accident is if the brakes didn’t engage.”

  Cole leaned closer, lowering his voice as he spoke. “If someone cut the brake lines, and trust me, I’m not trying to create a conspiracy theory here, but if that’s what happened, given the day we’ve had, I would agree. It’s fair to assume this wasn’t a coincidence.”

  Rita nodded. Good. He was still on her side.

  “And if someone wanted to cause an accident,” he continued, “they would make sure the damage to the brake line was small and the leak was slow. Someone who knew what they were doing would want brake fluid in the lines when the driver got in, maybe even enough to last while Ryan confidently collected furniture for a new roommate before running out. If he got into the truck and there were no brakes, he wouldn’t have gone anywhere, except maybe to a garage, and that would’ve ruined the criminal’s efforts. Wasted his time.”

  Rita slumped forward. “By the time Ryan was on the county route, loaded down and driving faster, using the brakes for hills and turns, the fluid would’ve run out, and it would’ve been too late to stop.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking,” Cole admitted. “You know about cars?”

  “Just brakes. My first car had soft brakes, and Dad was home at the time. He found the problem and told me what could happen if I’d kept driving it that way. Said I wasted my money on a junker car when I could’ve walked anywhere I needed to go.”

  Criticizing his only daughter? Telling her to walk after learning she’d saved for a car? What a jerk. Cole forced a tight smile. “Your dad sounds like a real peach.”

  “Yep.”

  Clearly, Rita had gotten her kind and nurturing heart from her mother.

  Two long hours later, a man in blue scrubs stopped at the nurses’ station outside the waiting room, then turned to face Cole and Rita when the nurse pointed their way.

  Rita leaped from her chair and met the man in the hallway. Cole followed.

  According to the man’s name tag he was chief of surgery.

  “I’m Dr. Keller.” He hugged his clipboard in one arm and extended his free hand to Rita, then Cole. “Ryan’s surgery was textbook. No complications. No surprises. He’s being moved from Recovery to an observation room on this floor now.”

  Rita lifted onto her toes, craning her neck to see around the doctor. “Which room is his? Can I talk to him now?”

  “You’re welcome to see him, but talking to him will take some time.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Why?”

  Cole pulled her against his side and curved a protective arm around her waist. He’d seen what she hadn’t yet. The tight set of the doctor’s jaw. His rigid stance. The slight pinch of his mouth, indicating that he’d delivered the only good news he had.

  Dr. Keller shuffled his bootie-covered feet. “Your brother has been unconscious since his arrival. You’re more than welcome to talk to him, but he’s unlikely to respond. Though I like to think all communication helps, one-sided or not.”

  Rita crunched her brow. “I don’t understand. When will he wake up?”

  The doctor shifted his gaze to Cole.

  “It’s okay,” Cole answered the unspoken question. “She can handle it.”

  Dr. Keller lowered his chin before turning back to Rita. “As you may have been told, Ryan’s injuries are extensive.
He has multiple fractures to his hands, arms and ribs, plus his right foot and left thigh. There’s significant damage to the bones in his cheek, forehead and upper jaw. He’ll need additional surgeries to correct those issues later. I was able to locate and stop his internal bleeding, and set several broken bones. It was a good start. Right now, we’re concerned about secondary injuries that often occur in situations like these. Sometimes it takes a day or two after a trauma for things to rear their heads. We’re watching specifically for signs of swelling or bruising of the brain. The anesthesia should’ve worn off in Recovery. Now, it’s just a matter of when he opens his eyes. We’ll know more once he wakes. Any other questions?”

  Rita gaped.

  Cole hugged her tight. “We want to see him.”

  “Of course.” Dr. Keller led the way to a private room near the nurses’ station. “Visiting hours are shorter here than the other wards. The patients need extended time to rest. Also, we ask that they have no more than one visitor at a time. I’m sure you understand.”

  “No.” Rita stopped short. “Two.” She faced off with the doctor. “Two at a time, and I’m not leaving until he wakes up. I don’t care about your hours. I won’t make a sound, and I’ll stay out of the way, but I won’t leave him.”

  Dr. Keller made an apologetic face. “Hospital policy says...”

  “Sir,” Cole interrupted before the man could tell her no. He dragged his badge from one pocket and flipped it open, well aware that he looked absolutely nothing like a lawman in his running shorts and faded army T-shirt. “I’m a deputy with the Cade County Sheriff’s Department, and we have reason to believe this young man’s vehicle was tampered with. For his safety, we’ll need a deputy stationed outside the door at all times, and I’ll be staying with Miss Horn. She and her brother are going through a terrible ordeal right now, and all they have is each other.”

  The words were sour on his tongue. Rita had Cole, too, and he needed to tell her. She deserved to know the things that had been happening to his heart since their lives crossed paths this week. He’d never felt so attached to or identified so strongly with anyone who wasn’t blood related. Hell, he’d never even met Ryan, but the guy lying in that bed may as well have been his brother. At least, that was the way it seemed to his heart as it pounded and his breaths grew shallow. He needed that young man to be okay because Rita needed him to be okay.