The Protector

by Danielle L Davis

  I’m nothing if not a trier.

  Mac had a few “requests” before she was willing to hand over the keys. First, she made me promise to tell her about the date afterward. I was going to do that anyway, so it wasn’t a big deal. Second, she asked me to run with her that evening. No problem with that, either. Third, she wanted me to try not to get myself killed.

  Huh? I mean, come on.

  Had I ever actually tried to get myself killed? I figured she was just afraid I’d get blood on her fancy leather seats. Once she agreed I wasn’t suicidal, I had Bernie drop me off at her place and got to drive home in her car.

  Once home, I brushed my teeth, hopped in and out of the shower, and pulled on a red T-shirt and Levi’s. I grabbed a pair of red cowgirl booties. Feeling carefree, I wore my hair loose and curly. After putting on a dash of lipstick, I was good to go. By the time I threw my running kit in a gym bag, it was time to hit the road.

  My date and I planned to meet for happy hour at TGI Fridays. A tip on the dating website said couples should plan a short date for the first meeting. That way, you don’t have to sit through a long meal trying to think of a way to end the date if you didn’t click. It made perfect sense, although I hadn’t had a problem walking away from my date with Greg, the Chili’s guy, or Mr. “Serial Dater.” I think I’d hurt Greg’s feelings though.

  The TGI Fridays parking lot had already started to fill with the after-work crowd. I texted Mac to let her know I was still among the living and sat in my car to watch the people strolling along, trying to pick out Brad, my date. I had a good idea of what he’d look like and spotted someone who resembled his photos. Cute and tall—a promising start. He stood at the entrance, scanning the parking lot. We’d told one another the type of car we drove. He’d be looking for my Altima, of course, which was still sitting in the garage at the station. He drove a red Ford F-150 and I hadn’t seen one come into the parking lot. When he turned to go inside, I opened my door.

  I entered the restaurant, took a few steps, and there he was, standing with his back to me, scoping out the bar. “Brad?”

  He turned and smiled. “Sydney? Pleased to meet you in person.” He held out a hand and I shook it. No cold fish grip there.

  Still promising.

  “Me, too.” I felt myself smiling as well. Brad had a big smile, clean teeth, and he smelled good. His hair was short and blond, combed back, and it had a slight wave. “How are you?”

  “I’m good. Now. Worried you might not show.” He edged toward the bar. “Join me?”

  “Sure.” I fell in step, but my guard was still up. Always the cop. We climbed onto barstools and ordered drinks. He chose a Corona and a glass. I tried something new, a Coconut Colada ’Rita—a mix of Pina Colada and Margarita. “Did you come here straight from work?” I asked.

  “No, I was off today. I had a long weekend.” He picked up his beer.

  “Oh, vacation?” I sipped my drink, which was summer in a glass.

  Who thinks up these drinks?

  “You could say that. I was away. Just got back this morning.” He looked around the room, then noticed me watching him. He smiled and poured more beer into his glass. “How’s your drink?”

  “Very good. It’s like sunshine and rainbows.” My radar was firing. He’d dodged the question, for sure. “So, do you travel often?”

  “Not normally, but I seem to be doing a lot lately.” His eyes had focused on my breasts.

  Why do guys stare at my breasts? They’re not even that big.

  “And you? Travel any?”

  “I don’t, but I should make the time to do more exploring.” I tossed my hair.

  Oh, how cheesy was that?

  “I always seem to be too busy to think about getting out of town.”

  He smiled again. Actually, it was more of a slight leer. I sighed.

  “Are you tired? You should try a quick trip up the coast or something. It rejuvenates, even if you’re only gone for a weekend.”

  He’d left himself open for the next question. “Where were you coming back from this morning?”

  I’m so nosey. It’s a cop thing.

  He blinked. “Uh, Laguna Beach.” His gaze roamed the room. He stared at his Corona and shredded a napkin, one tiny piece at a time. He peered at me. “Ever been?”

  “Not yet, but I’ve heard it’s gorgeous.”

  “It is. I have a condo. Maybe you could join me next weekend?”

  “Thanks for the offer, but it’s too soon for me to spend the weekend with you.” I took a few sips from my drink. I started to feel a buzz.

  Slow down, Syd.

  “Okay. I understand.” He nodded. “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” I smiled, but my stomach quivered.

  He stared. “Did you double-book?”

  “Double-book?” It felt like a large neon flashing question mark must’ve been floating above my head.

  “Did you make another date, in case I was a dog?”

  “Oh! No, I promised my sister we’d get together tonight.” I glanced at my watch. “I’m sorry, I have to get going now.” I slid off the barstool.

  “All right. Another time?” He grinned. Really nice smile there. No hint of a leer this time. Maybe I was being too hard on him. I was tempted to call Mac and cancel, but a promise was a promise.

  “Sure. Shoot me an email. Let me know.”

  He accompanied me to my car. Well, Mac’s car.

  “Here’s my cell phone number and personal email address written on the back. You won’t have to go through the dating site’s email.” He handed me a business card.

  I slid it into the back pocket of my Levi’s. “Thanks. I’ll call, and we can set something up.” Unsure of what to do next, I started to back away. “Well, good night.”

  “Sydney?” He took a step toward me, reached out, and gave me a hug. I let him ... until his hands moved up my sides, skimming my ribs, then edged up to my breasts.

  “Okay, that’s enough.” I stepped away. “Good night.”

  I opened my door, slid into the driver’s seat, and watched him saunter through the parking lot as I called Mac to let her know I was on my way. I wondered whether it mattered if he’d been with another woman in Laguna Beach. I guess it didn’t... yet. We weren’t exclusive.

  I parked Mac’s car in their garage, grabbed my gym bag from the passenger seat, and knocked on the door leading into the house before trying the doorknob. As usual, it was unlocked. The house smelled of their dinner—fish. If it hadn’t been for the late lunch, I’d have been starving.

  Mike was coming from Josh’s bedroom. “Hey, Syd. You just missed seeing Josh.” He peeked into the room and smiled. The proud parent. “Mac’s in the kitchen cleaning up.” We ambled down the hall, through the great room, and into the kitchen. She was stacking the dishwasher.

  “Hi, Mac. I’m here.” I held up my gym bag. “Just going to change.” I entered their bathroom to shed the date clothes and joined them in the kitchen.

  “Honey, can you finish up, so we can get a run in before it gets to be too late? It’s already getting dark outside.” Mac was dressed in a turquoise warm-up suit and white New Balance running shoes. Of course, she hadn’t forgotten her damn fanny pack. This one had reflective strips along the edges and its color matched her warm-up suit.

  “Okay. Be safe.” Mike began rinsing the remaining dishes in the sink and loading them into the dishwasher.

  Mac pulled on a baseball cap. “Ready?”

  I nodded. “If you are.”

  “Mike, we’re leaving.”

  She opened the door to the cool night air. We started out at an easy pace.

  “Let’s run past the park and go to Josh’s school and back,” I said.

  “Race you.” Mac picked up the pace. I hadn’t run lately due to my injuries. My side began to hurt. Side stitch! Mac was a block ahead of me, seeming to run effortlessly. Coasting. I bent at the waist, holding my side.
Mac approached the park, two blocks ahead. She seemed to slow, and I started walking. The stitch began to subside.

  In the distance, a motorcycle roared.

  Mac started to head toward me. Beyond her, a headlight shone. She leaned on a palm tree, stretching her quads. The roar increased and the light glared. High beams? It headed her way.

  “Mac!” I started running. “Mac, run!”

  Mac looked my way, hand cupped to her ear. “What?”

  “Run!” I sprinted, tripped on something. My knee drove into the sidewalk, but I rolled, jumped up, continued running. The motorcycle raced toward her. She spun, saw it, and ran. The motorcycle jumped the curb and circled her. The rider stopped near her and swung something downward. Mac put her arms up. I heard a crack, like wood split by an ax. Mac screamed.

  I was breathless, limping, but almost there.

  The bike roared away before I reached Mac.

  The whole thing took seconds.

  Mac lay on the sidewalk clutching her arm, moaning and crying.

  “Mac!” I knelt, gasping for air, and reached for her. “Let me see it.”

  I touched her arm. She squealed and yanked it away. I forced her other arm aside. “Oh, shit.” Her forearm had bent into a curve, but no bones had broken through the skin. I pulled out my cell phone, dialed 9-1-1, and asked for an ambulance. Then I called the station to report the incident and request a BOLO. I also rang Mike, but he didn’t answer.

  Mac started panting.

  “Mac, listen. Help is coming.”

  Sirens wailed in the distance.

  Mac shuddered. “It hurts. Syd, it hurts.” She curled into a fetal position.

  “I know it does. Keep your eyes on the moon, Mac.” Her baseball cap had fallen off. I picked it up, put it on my head, and pushed her hair away from her face. “Just breathe slowly. Focus. Eyes on the moon.”

  She inhaled and exhaled slowly but continued to shudder. Her arm had begun to spasm. I called Mike again. Still no answer. This time, I left a voicemail.

  The sirens grew louder.

  “Syd, I feel dizzy. I think I’m going to throw up.”

  “Take it easy. Try to hold on.” Fighting the tears, I used my headband to wipe the sweat from her face. My cell phone rang. Mike. “Hello?”

  “Syd, what’s up?” I heard the television.

  “Mike, there’s been an accident. It looks like Mac’s arm is broken.”

  He gasped. “How? Where are you?” The sirens drowned out the rest of his words.

  “She was attacked near the park.” The ambulance raced around the corner. “Mike, the ambulance is here. We’re on our way to San Sansolita Memorial Hospital.”

  “Okay. I’m going to get Josh up.” He disconnected.

  The paramedics took moments to evaluate Mac before loading her onto the gurney and into the ambulance. I hopped into the back and watched them start an IV as we moved through the evening traffic. Mac still whimpered but had managed to steady her breathing. The medic took her vitals, then placed a mask on her face. Mac closed her eyes. I hoped she’d be okay. The attack probably happened because of the case. No. No probably about it. It had happened because of the damn case.

  I thought of Mom and Dad. I’d have to call them once we reached the ER. It was impossible to call in the ambulance with all the activity, the jarring ride, and the noise.

  At the ER, the paramedics rolled Mac through the hall. I’d taken her fanny pack and used her insurance card to register her. I’d never tease her about the fanny pack again. They rolled her to X-ray. I left the waiting room and stood in the hall to call Mom and Dad. Neither answered the phone, but I left a voicemail. I looked up to see Mike, eyes wild, face flushed, running down the hall, carrying a sleeping Josh.

  “What happened? Where is she?” He was breathing hard and sweating.

  “In X-ray. We were running past the park on the way to Josh’s school and she was attacked.” It had started to hit me that she could’ve been killed. The lump in my throat seemed to grow. I swallowed it.

  “Is she going to be okay?” He seemed to hold his breath.

  “It looks like a broken arm. They’ll be out once they finish the X-ray.” My eyes began to burn. I looked away and bit my lip.

  “Syd? Where were you when this happened?” Mike stared at me accusingly.

  “She ran ahead of me almost two blocks away, racing me ... to the school.”

  “How could she be that far ahead?” He was frowning.

  “I had a side stitch and my ankles hurt.” I gave him a slight smile. “She’s been training.”

  “But, why would someone do that to her? She wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

  “It might have something to do with my case.” I shook my head at the expression in his eyes. “I’m so sorry.” I couldn’t hold it in any longer and started to cry.

  “I’m sorry, too.” He turned and entered the waiting room without looking back.

  I fled outside and took in some air as I looked up at the stars and the half-moon, then stared at Mac’s fanny pack at my feet, and said, “Please let her be okay. Please.”

  Sitting off to the side on the hospital steps, I wiped the now-dried blood from my knee with a tissue from Mac’s fanny pack. I called Bernie. He offered to come to the hospital, but I told him there wasn’t much he could do. He asked the usual questions about the type of bike, license plates, and if I got a look at the rider, but I had nothing to give him. The biker had worn a full-face helmet. I hadn’t seen the color of the bike ... again. I told Bernie the location of the attack and asked if he could stop by and look around, check for traffic cameras. I needed to know if he found Scrabble tiles. Someone from the department would take Mac’s report when she was able to give it, but I doubted it would be tonight. She’d been out of it by the time they’d taken her to X-ray. The attack had happened so fast and it was dark. The details would be sketchy.

  “Syd? Are you out here?” Mike skipped down the steps.

  I wiped my tears with the headband I’d used on Mac and cleared my throat. “I’m here.” I stood and limped to him, feeling defeated.

  “I’m sorry I said that.” He bowed his head and looked me in the eye. “You’re not responsible for what other people do.”

  “It’s okay, Mike.” I watched Josh, hair tousled, still sleeping peacefully. He wore pajamas and slippers with dinosaurs on them. The slippers lit up with red and blue lights whenever one of his feet moved. I envied him his innocence.

  “Any news on Mac yet?”

  “She came from X-ray a little while ago. She won’t need surgery. Thank God.” He scratched his nose, awkwardly, since he still held Josh. “They’re setting her arm now. I have to sit down. He’s not as small as he used to be.” He turned to leave, then looked over his shoulder. “They said she can go home tonight.”

  I followed him inside.

  “Mike, if there’s anything she needs, or anything you or Josh need, give me a call. Wait. I still don’t have a car. Can I ride home with you and borrow Mac’s car again tonight?”

  “Sure.” He smiled, relieved the love of his life would be okay, which made two of us.

  By the time they discharged Mac it was well after midnight. I waited with her on the sidewalk while Mike left with Josh to bring the car around. She looked tired, but not in pain as she stared up at me from her wheelchair.

  “So, what about the date?” She gave me a slight smile. Maybe it was the glare of the parking lot lights, but dark circles shadowed her eyes and her rosy complexion was now pale.

  “You should be resting. I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

  “You promised.”

  I nodded. “The date was fine. He gave me his personal email address and cell number.”

  “Are you going to call?”

  “I think so.”

  She smiled, but her eyelids stayed closed longer than normal before they fluttered open. “Good.” She reached for my hand and held it.

  Mike pulled up to the curb. He jumped f
rom the car and helped Mac up from the wheelchair and into the passenger seat. She was awkward with the full-arm cast and the shoulder sling. While Mike buckled her in, I returned the wheelchair to the foyer, then limped around the car and buckled myself in next to a sleeping Josh. I leaned my head back on the seat and tried not to think about what I would’ve done if I’d lost my sister.

  I’d only been home a few minutes before Bernie called. He’d found a Ziploc bag with a Scrabble letter in it. An “H.” Maybe the attacker didn’t think Mac was worth more than one letter. Or was it a warning that she could be attacked again? Thinking about it, I wasn’t sure he meant to kill Mac. She could’ve been hit more than once since I was still a block away. I’d had my back-up pistol but wouldn’t have dared use it for fear of hitting Mac. I wondered if the attack would have happened if I hadn’t been there. Or maybe the biker would have killed her if she’d been alone. I didn’t want to think about it.

  After a quick shower, I sprayed my throbbing knee with Bactine and put an ice pack on it.

  Note to self: buy more ice packs.

  I pulled on an oversized T-shirt and crawled into bed. I was so relieved Mac had survived, but now I worried for my family. They were targets. We needed to figure this out. Soon.

  What was the connection? Could an angry parent have something to do with the killings? Would a child who’d aged out of the system seek revenge for perceived wrongs?

  I drifted into a restless sleep with the case rattling through my mind.

  18

  Before driving to work the next morning, breakfasted and ready to get on with the case, I called Mac. Mike answered and told me she was sleeping, and she’d had a decent night. He also said Mom and Dad had received my message, called Mac, and everything was cool-ish. Mike was taking time off from work, but couldn’t talk long because he had to get Josh dressed and fed. He promised to let Mac know I’d called and didn’t sound mad at me anymore.

  I turned on the car radio and drove to the station, feeling loads better about Mac’s recovery.