“Thanks. I’ll change when he gets out,” I said as I moved toward my chair.
“I’ll keep watch. You go change.”
“No, not until he’s—”
“You should go. The FBI might need those clothes for evidence.” The voice came from behind my uncle.
Chief Saunders.
I hadn’t noticed him. Anger glowed hot in my chest for what he’d put us through.
“You did commendable work, Miss Johnson. I’ll be calling to set up that interview as soon as you’re settled again.”
He spoke as if Ryder had never gotten hurt, or maybe he didn’t care that he had. The stupid interview was the last thing on my mind.
“You,” I shoved my uncle to the side, “I told you this would happen. I told you he wasn’t ready for something like—”
“Careful,” Tasha’s voice came from the hall behind us where she’d disappeared to find coffee, “she’s punching people for no reason.”
Her father tensed at her voice. Tears rushed his eyes and yet he dared not turn around.
“Natasha?”
She set her cup on a nearby table and said, “Hi Dad.”
I don’t know what I expected, a hug? A careful apology or explanation of their behavior? Instead, the silence between them threatened to suffocate us all. There were too many years, too many trapdoors and lies built from places without trust.
Uncle Shane set a hand on my shoulder. “Go change. I’ll stay here and keep watch.”
I glanced at the uncomfortable duo once more and gave in.
After changing into the yoga pants and sweatshirt my uncle brought me, I shoved my Eden’s Haven clothes back into the paper bag. I’d only planned a cursory glance in the mirror, but the sight stole my breath. I stared at my reflection, unable to recognize the woman I saw there.
Dirt and sun had darkened my skin. Lack of food whittled away at my face until my cheekbones appeared more pronounced, raised to the point that my eyes looked sunken. The scar had faded, thanks to Willow’s cream. Leaves and twigs riddled my ratted hair, evidence of our dash through the woods. Mud caked my skin, only intersected by Ryder’s blood.
I wet a brown paper towel from the dispenser and wiped at my face, pulling back three shades as I worked. The water turned pink as I used the powered soap to scrub my skin clean. It wasn’t much, but maybe it was enough to get by.
As I approached the waiting area again, I noticed that Tasha and her father had left. Uncle Shane stood as I approached, and my stomach lurched into my throat.
“He’s out of surgery. They’ve moved him to the ICU.”
I shoved the bag into his arms and started for the elevator. I’d spent the afternoon studying the map of the hospital. ICU was located on the fourth floor.
“Lindy, I’ve got a hotel room nearby. Come back with me and get some rest. You can’t do anything right now.”
The button clicked beneath my finger as I pressed it repeatedly.
“I’m not leaving.”
“Lindy, he’d want you to take care of yourself.”
“I’m not leaving him,” I said again as I stepped onto the elevator.
I barely heard him as the doors closed, “She’s as crazy as he was.”
♦ ♦ ♦
The benches outside the ICU made sleeping nearly impossible, but I managed. Uncle Shane brought food sometime in the afternoon, as well as my keys, my wallet, and my phone. He’d given up fighting me and didn’t argue about leaving. There was a quick goodbye before he left, but I knew I was on my own.
Hospital food made me miss Harmony’s cooking. I drifted in and out through the night, only waking when the whoosh of the automatic bay doors released a doctor or a nurse, but never news for me.
Once I had my phone again, I called Isabelle, Ryder’s mother, and left her a voicemail. I had so little information to give it was basically impossible to pass anything along. But I managed to get through it without crying, so that was a victory.
It was my fault. If I had gone with Officer Cox, Ryder would’ve been safe. But even as I thought it, I knew there were holes. It was our relationship that had saved us, not just once, but continually. I saved him, and he saved me, a circle that went round and round, over and over.
Sleep filtered in around me, off and on, through the night. Somewhere in the early morning hours, a hand on my shoulder shook me awake. My reflexes were still raw, and I swiped at the arm to stop him before he hurt me.
“Hey, Lindy. It’s okay.”
My name was familiar, but that was where it ended. The short doctor stared at me as if I should know him. Hospital scrubs in blue, spiked black hair, and a mole near his cheekbone, none of it even vaguely familiar. Yet, he knew me. I saw it in his easy smile and kind eyes. We were friends.
“Who are you?” The question came out like an interrogation, but he wasn’t fazed.
“Dr. Grant.” He smiled again, but nothing clicked for me, “Nathan Grant.” He crouched down to drop to my height as I sat on the bench. “Sorry, I saw you sleeping here, and I knew you were waiting on Ryder.”
The names, the familiarity with which he spoke, it made sense, but only if I could recognize him, and I couldn’t.
“I’m sorry. You don’t remember me,” he said after a moment. “It makes sense. You were unconscious for most of our conversations.”
It clicked, not from memory, but because it made sense. “You were my doctor?”
“And now I’m Ryder’s.”
My heart jumped. “How is he? Did the surgery go okay? Can I see him?”
Dr. Grant’s head shook gently, a tender smile on his lips. “Déjà vu all over again. I swear I just had this exact conversation with him.” He paused and thought about his answers. “The surgery went well. The bleeding has stopped. We had to give him quite a bit of blood to make up for what he lost. We don’t know if he went without oxygen for any period of time, and we’re waiting on that right now. He’s sedated and comfortable. We have him on a respirator for the time being, but he’s stable.”
Tears slipped over my cheeks. I swiped to push them away. “Can I see him?”
“Hospital policy is no.”
His answer crushed my spirits, but a smile pulled at his lips and hope sprang in the wings.
“You need to get cleaned up. The resident’s shower is down this hall. Ryder used to use it when you were here. He’s friends with most of the staff. I’m making my rounds. I’ll check back in an hour.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Steaming hot water. I’d forgotten what it felt like. My scars glowed red beneath the water, but none of it mattered because he was alive. Even as I scrubbed the stolen shampoo from my hair, all I could think was that Ryder was alive.
♦ ♦ ♦
With my face mask firmly in place and a yellow shield over my clothes, I followed Dr. Grant beyond the doors. We passed rooms with multiple patients, beeping monitors, and the ever present hospital smell that turned my stomach. We paused at the window outside Ryder’s room and I saw him for the first time.
Bandages wrapped around his head, hiding the injury I hadn’t seen until the end. A mask linked to the respirator covered his mouth. Monitors chirped and beeped, clicked and spun. I wondered how much of it kept him alive.
“There were other internal injuries. Whatever he went through,” the doctor glanced at me as well, “whatever you both went through, was obviously traumatic. The psychological wounds will likely be far worse than his physical ones.”
“He was doing okay,” I whispered as my palm pressed against the cold glass. “We were dealing with it.”
“You were surviving. There’s a difference,” Dr. Grant pointed out. “It’s hard to tell what we should expect now that his brain is processing the information.”
His words stayed with me long after I left the ICU. They stained my clothes. The words worked under my skin and waited like a virus in my veins. Just when I’d started to hope, just when I thought we might make it, the fight wasn’t ove
r yet.
♦ ♦ ♦
Isabelle arrived the next day. If I was expecting a hug, I was quickly corrected by a sharp slap across my face.
“This is your fault. You did this.”
“I told him not to come,” I tried. I wished she could know how badly I needed comfort. There had been a time when we’d been friends, but that time had passed.
“You turned him down, just to drag him back into something far more dangerous than I could ever imagine.” Even with her slender frame and delicate structure, she terrified me. “Stay away from my son.”
I couldn’t grant her request, but I gave her space. I moved to the hallway where she didn’t have to look at me, except when she left for food or to sleep at the hotel. As soon as she left, I resumed my position on a bench, and when she returned, I shifted back to the hall.
Whether she was right or wrong, love kept me there. I had to be there when he woke up.
The jangle of my phone woke me at odd hours. Always my parents, and I refused to pick up. I hadn’t wanted to come home when they asked and with Ryder hospitalized, that door had completely closed. I couldn’t leave him.
Maybe I’ll come with you. I heard Ryder’s voice in my head. Maybe I’ll move to California too. I’ll take up surfing.
I laughed at the thought and replied in my mind. There’s no ocean in central California. You’d have to take up farming.
His smile glowed warm and healthy in my mind. It doesn’t matter, as long as I have you.
My phone rang again and I silenced it. I had nothing to tell them, not yet.
♦ ♦ ♦
I hated her. From the second I’d first laid eyes on her, I hated Vanessa. She stepped off the elevator and hugged Isabelle with her long, lean dancer’s arms. My hatred grew into loathing. Isabelle was welcome, she was his mother. Vanessa was nothing. She had no right.
Isabelle’s head nodded in my direction. Vanessa turned and, in an instant, I knew her feelings were mutual. Her short skirt swished as she strode toward me. My hands balled into fists in preparation of her attack.
“Get out,” she said, her voice cracking, eyes wet with tears. “You’re not welcome here. I told him you’d get him killed and you’ve nearly done it.”
“You shouldn’t be here. He dumped you.” I should’ve hidden some of my arrogance, but it seeped in anyway. He loved me. She was nothing.
“He was confused. It was only a break.” She gathered her silky black hair into one hand and gripped it tight. “I thought he would come to his senses if he saw you for what you are.”
My pulse thumped in my head as anger pulsed through my veins.
“And what’s that?”
Her lip curled up to snarl. Two deep wrinkles at each eye spoiled her perfect skin.
“A monster.” Her tears overflowed and cut wet strips over her cheekbones. “Like a disease or a cancer that destroys everything you touch. You’re selfish and arrogant. You think of no one but yourself. You’ll step on anyone to get where you want to be. Everything you touch dies. You got your aunt killed. Ryder’s father was killed because of you. You’re a murderer, a killer at your core. He’s a breath away from death and it’s because of you.”
Her words shouldn’t have mattered to me. Ryder had assured me of that. But she was right.
That was the problem.
She was right.
I was arrogant and selfish. I had acted recklessly. Fear captured my heart, hoping it wasn’t too late to show him that I could change, I could be better.
The hydraulic doors released, and Dr. Grant stepped out. We all rushed toward him, eager for any news. Oblivious to the tension in the room, he said, “He’s not awake, but he’s been off the machines for forty-eight hours. We’re going to move him out of the ICU. We’ll know more when he wakes up.”
Isabelle started asking questions, and my phone rang. I saw Uncle Shane’s name across the display, and I pulled away to answer.
“What is it?”
My abrupt nature didn’t surprise him.
“I wanted to give you a heads up. Chief Saunders has found himself in hot water over this whole mess. If you want that interview, it’s now or never. He’s getting forced into retirement. This is pretty much your only shot.” He paused, I’m sure to let me absorb the information, before he pressed on.
“When I approached Ryder about this case in the beginning, he wasn’t willing to do it. He said he wouldn’t be strong enough to keep you safe. In fact, he planned to talk you out of it. Beg you not to go if he had to.” His sigh filled the phone. “I told him the chief was willing to make you a cop if you found Tasha. Ryder seemed to know what that would mean to you, how it would put your life plans back on track. He wanted you to chase your dreams of being an agent. Think about it, okay? It’s all set up for nine a.m. tomorrow.”
I stared at the phone for a long time after it went blank. I heard Ryder’s voice in my head again.
I want you to be happy, Huckleberry.
Chapter 37
I arrived at the precinct five minutes before nine. Brand new pantyhose covered my scarred legs where the pencil skirt didn’t. I wore my hair down, only pinned back on the sides, so that it would cover the lingering bruises on my neck. My stomach growled beneath my cotton blouse. A few snickers followed me as I moved toward one of the empty offices at the back. It was rare that I embraced my femininity and, when I did, most of the male officers found it amusing.
Officer Cox met me at the end of the bullpen. Every bit as massive as I remembered, but, after the men I’d faced, I felt no intimidation.
“Chief says to wait in here. He’ll be here in a minute.”
“Owen,” I smiled broadly, “so glad to see you recovered from that bout of food poisoning.” He moved out of my way. As I passed, I whispered “coward” loud enough for him to hear.
I wasn’t surprised that he chose not to keep me company.
The chief pulled the door open after I waited a full five minutes. I wished Shane had been able to stay on hand for moral support, but the only way I agreed was if he stayed at the hospital in my place and watched over Ryder.
“Miss Johnson, thank you for coming.” He waited for my sarcastic reply, but I kept my mouth shut. “I promised you this chance, so I’m glad you haven’t blown it.”
I bit the inside of my lip and smiled. Eden’s Haven had done a great job of teaching me to hold my tongue when it was important.
“Let’s begin then.”
I answered his questions honestly over the next hour. Most were from a binder he’d brought with him, but a few were pulled from his own experience with me. Questions like, “Do you feel as though you are above the law,” and “how do you work through tense interpersonal relationships” were re-worded to apply to me specifically. I began to wonder if any part of the interview was real.
“If your partner is in an undercover situation and you fear his cover is blown, do you risk your own cover to save him, or do you call for back up and wait?”
I couldn’t push the image of Ryder with a gun pressed to the back of his skull from my mind.
“It depends on the situation,” I said. “Sometimes there isn’t enough time to call for back up.”
Chief Saunders ran his thick fingers over his drooping jowls, making them jiggle. “You’re telling me that you, Lindy Johnson, would sacrifice yourself, everything you want, for your partner?”
I silenced his doubt with two words. “I did.”
My phone vibrated under my hand. Uncle Shane’s name crossed the screen.
“Ignore that. We’re not done.”
It vibrated again. I shot the chief a plaintive request, but he shook his head.
“You’ve had a long pattern of arrogance and flippancy toward the badge. Tell me—”
My phone buzzed again, and I swiped it open.
“He’s awake,” I read the text aloud.
Two hours.
I was two hours from him.
“Ryder is awake. We�
�ll have to do this another time.” I pushed away from the table. My hand gripped the door handle as the command came through.
“Sit down, Miss Johnson. We aren’t finished yet.”
I thought about it.
I did.
But I realized in that moment that dreams change.
Sure, I’d always dreamed of being an FBI agent and being a detective would help me get there, but I made a good private investigator. I’d accomplished something that the police had failed to do. Even Tasha had been unable to take down Eden’s Haven before I got there. Sure, I was just a private investigator, but I was a good one.
“You were never going to give me this job,” I said as I faced the chief. “It was a carrot to hold in front of my nose so that you could get what you wanted. And for what? Your daughter still hates you, and you blame me because I remind you of her.” I let my features betray the pity I felt for him. “You’re weak and pathetic, and I don’t need this.”
He followed me out. “Where are you going, Miss Johnson?”
I didn’t bother to turn around. “My partner needs me.”
♦ ♦ ♦
After a mix up at reception, the staff finally found Ryder on the second floor. As I stepped off the elevator, my phone buzzed in my hand. My father’s name lit up the screen. I started to press decline, but my thumb bumped the accept button. I nearly swore out loud before I set the phone to my ear.
“What?”
“Lindy, I’ve been trying to find you for days, why haven’t you picked up your phone?”
I scanned the halls for signs and turned right to follow the arrows to 223.
“I’ve been busy.”
“Fine, whatever, but I thought you should know. Your friend Amos, he’s in trouble.”
The name barely registered at first, too far removed from the world I lived in.
Sparrows & Sacrifice Page 28
