by Diana Palmer
“Right here, sir,” the security man said, moving back spectators and motioning the ambulance into the throng of people. It was followed by a Jacobsville police car, with one of Grier’s officers, the watch commander, driving and another officer in the passenger seat.
Judd still had a death grip on Christabel’s hand. He managed to stay sane long enough to send a glance at Clark, who was on his knees in the dirt groaning from his own wound. “Get that son of a bitch to jail,” he said through his teeth, “before I kill him!”
His eyes were testimony enough to the intent of the statement. He’d forgotten law, duty, honor, everything, in the grip of the worst fear he’d ever felt. If she died, he would be lawless. Nothing would matter to him in the world, ever again, except revenge. He felt cold and sick and horrified. He’d been close to his father when he had died. He remembered holding his father’s hand just as the older man sighed out his last breath. That had been frightening, but not like this. Nothing had ever been like this! The cold terror had him firmly in its icy grip. He couldn’t drag his eyes away from Christabel’s pain-contorted face. It was killing him to see her like this! And still the blood ran out of her like water out of a spigot, despite Tippy’s feverish efforts to stem the flow.
The ambulance attendants moved in, efficient and quick. Judd wouldn’t let go of her hand. They had to work around him, even to transport her, because he climbed right into the back of the ambulance with her, still holding her hand. He didn’t even notice the other people standing outside the big vehicle as its red lights flashed on and off.
“Don’t let her die,” Cash told one of the EMTs grimly. “I’m going to see if I can get those guns away from him before you leave,” he added quietly.
He climbed into the ambulance, spoke softly to Judd, who barely heard him, and relieved him of the two firearms, his own Colt automatic and the wheel gun Clark had been carrying. He came back out and the ambulance doors closed. His last glimpse of Christabel was with Judd’s dark head bent over her in an agony of grief.
“Will she live?” Tippy asked Grier.
He looked down at her, belatedly realizing that she was talking to him. “I don’t know,” he said flatly. He was as frightened as Judd, he only hid it better.
She drew in a shaky breath. “I’ve never seen anybody shot.”
He wasn’t listening. The watch commander approached him. “Get him in leg irons and transport him to the hospital,” Grier told him curtly.
“I need a doctor,” Clark raged. “I’m shot. My hand’s bleeding!”
Grier stared at him. “If you make a move I don’t like, you’ll need a mortician,” he said with pure malice, and abruptly spun the Colt with a professional skill that made Clark back up a step. “Get him out of here,” he added coldly. “We’ll charge him with another count of aggravated assault and go from there.”
“Yes, sir.” The police officer wasn’t inclined to argue.
“I missed this time, but I won’t miss again!” Clark raged. “He killed my brother. I mean to kill him, too, and I will! I swear I will!”
Grier ignored him and handed the police officer the two weapons he’d coaxed from Judd. “The Colt is Judd Dunn’s. The Smith & Wesson is the one Clark shot Christabel Gaines with. Lock them up in my office.”
“We’ll take care of them, sir,” the second officer assured him. “I hope Miss Gaines will be all right.”
“So do I,” Grier said huskily, his voice as rigid as his features. It was killing him that he couldn’t go in the ambulance with her. But that was Judd’s right, as much as he hated admitting it.
Tippy Moore watched the ambulance drive away. She glanced at Maude, who was weeping copiously on the sidelines. She could only imagine how it affected the old woman, who was the closest thing to a mother Christabel had left. She went to the woman and put a comforting arm around her. “Come on,” she said softly. “I’ll walk you back to the house.”
“I have to go to the hospital,” Maude wailed. “But I can’t drive, I’m shaking so!”
“I’ll get someone to drive us,” she said. “I’m going, too,” she added doggedly, glancing at the assistant director, who looked ready to argue. “I’m not working any more today, in case you were going to ask. I’m going to the hospital to sit with Judd.”
The assistant director threw up his hands, but at a cold glare from Grier, he just walked away without another word.
“You can ride in with me,” he told the women, without looking at them. “Give me a minute to phone my office and Judd’s.” He whipped out his cell phone and began punching in numbers.
“You need a sweater,” Tippy told Maude, herding her toward the house. “I’ll need to borrow one as well. I put mine over Miss Gaines.”
Maude had noticed that, even through the agony of the day. She managed a wet smile, surprised and pleased to find an ally where she’d thought she had an enemy. All her ill will toward the beautiful model vanished in a haze. “I’ll find you something.”
14
Judd was sitting in the emergency room waiting area when Cash Grier came in with Maude and Tippy. His hat was off. His dark hair was rumpled. He looked as if he’d been riding with death. There was blood on his white shirt, on his dark slacks. Christabel’s blood.
He looked up as they joined him. “They’ve taken her into surgery,” he said. “Copper Coltrain’s operating.”
“He’s the best we have,” Maude commented quietly.
“She moaned all the way in the ambulance,” Judd continued, almost as if he were talking to himself. “She couldn’t breathe. I wasn’t sure she’d even make it here.” His eyes closed on a wave of pain.
“Chest wounds are frightening,” Cash told him quietly. “But hers was low on her ribcage, and not in the gut.”
Judd’s black eyes sought reassurance in the older man’s. He relaxed, but not much. “I expect the operation’s going to take time.”
“They’ll have to hunt the bullet,” Maude groaned.
“They may not try to take the bullet out, if it’s less traumatic to leave it in,” Cash told her. “They’ll stop the bleeding and reinflate the lung. Then it’s a matter of antibiotics and rest.”
“She’d just signed up for spring semester and bought her textbooks,” Maude said heavily.
“She won’t be going back for several weeks,” Cash returned flatly. “I’m afraid she’ll sit out this part of the school year.”
“Quarterly taxes are due week after next,” Maude said miserably. “What a horrible thing to think about at a time like this.”
“Does she do the tax work?” Cash asked her for something to say.
She nodded. “Does all the book work, except paying monthly bills.” She glanced at Judd. “I never got to give you that tie tack she bought you for Christmas,” she added, and tears ran down her face.
Judd got up, cut to the heart, and paced, with his hands deep in his pockets.
“He didn’t get her a present.” Maude explained his sudden withdrawal to the others. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it, I guess. Hurt her feelings something awful, especially after he bought Miss Moore that engagement ring.”
Cash glared down at the redheaded model, who was already drawing interested stares from men in the waiting room. She seemed oddly uneasy at the attention. She glanced at the ring on her finger and grimaced.
“It’s not an engagement ring,” she said uncomfortably.
“He told Crissy it was,” Maude replied without looking at the younger woman.
Tippy’s eyebrows arched. That was news. Why would he lie about such a thing? And then she remembered the whopper she’d told Crissy, trying to get rid of her rival. But she hadn’t wanted this. When she looked at Judd, his anguish was almost tangible, and it hurt to think that she’d made Crissy miserable. If the woman died, she’
d have to live with it. It wouldn’t be easy. She was a coward. She was utterly worthless...
“How can he be engaged to you?” Cash asked curtly, scowling at Tippy. “He and Crissy are still married, aren’t they?” he asked Maude.
“They’re getting divorced,” Maude said. “Didn’t she tell you? I guess he’s already started proceedings...”
“They’re...married?” Tippy exclaimed, paling. “Christabel is his wife?”
“They’ve been married for five years,” Maude confirmed miserably. “Never meant anything to him. It was just on paper, so he could take care of things when her dad went to jail.”
“I had no idea,” Tippy said miserably.
“Don’t tell me it would have mattered,” Cash said with dripping sarcasm.
She gave him an angry glance. “It would have mattered,” she replied coldly. “I don’t date married men. Ever.”
His eyebrows went up. That was news.
A tall, redheaded surgeon in green scrubs came out of the swinging doors that led to the operating room, looking around until he spotted Judd. He walked toward him, somber and unsmiling.
“How is she?” Judd asked quickly.
Copper Coltrain shrugged. “We’ve stopped the bleeding. The lung’s reinflated. But she’s lost a lot of blood and she’s not in good shape otherwise, either. She’s got bronchitis. It’s going to complicate her recovery.”
“Bronchitis?” Judd repeated.
“I thought she sounded hoarse,” Maude agreed, “but she said it was just a little cold and she wouldn’t go to the doctor.” She grimaced. “She said she couldn’t afford to. Her insurance doesn’t have an outpatient clause.”
The minute the words were out, she regretted them. Judd’s eyes closed and he looked tormented. Tippy looked at the hateful ring on her finger and cursed her own stupidity in talking Judd into buying her that ring. Cash Grier just sighed with misery eating at him.
“Where do we go from here?” Judd asked in a subdued tone.
“We pray,” Coltrain replied flatly. “I won’t give you promises I can’t keep. Right now, it’s a toss-up. I’m sorry. I’ve done the best I can do.”
“I know that. Thanks,” Judd said dully. “Can I see her?” he added.
“She’s in recovery,” he replied. “It would be better to wait until we get her into a room in intensive care...”
“I’ll stay with her,” Maude interrupted, just before Grier could say the same thing.
“You can’t. Not in intensive care. You can see her three times a day, for no more than ten minutes each time,” he added firmly. “It’s too serious. She has to be kept quiet. No upsets.”
Judd looked as if he’d die trying not to snap at the surgeon. But he finally just nodded defeatedly.
Coltrain put a rough hand on his shoulder. “Don’t borrow trouble. Take it one hour at a time. You’ll get through this.”
“Think so?” Judd asked heavily.
“I know so. I’ll keep a close watch on her. Try not to worry.” He nodded to the others and went back down the hall.
Judd looked at the other three people with him. “I’m glad you’re all here. But if anybody gets into that room, even for a minute, it’s going to be me,” he said shortly.
Cash looked inclined to argue, but the expression on Judd’s face made him back down.
“If you want us to stay out here with you, I don’t mind,” Tippy said.
“Same here,” Maude added.
“I’d rather you went home,” Judd said. “I’m not leaving the hospital until I know something, one way or the other.”
“I’ll give them a ride,” Cash said. “Then I’ll come back.”
Judd met the older man’s eyes. He didn’t argue. He didn’t even speak. He just nodded. He didn’t want to be alone, and he wouldn’t have to pull his verbal punches talking about it to Cash. You just couldn’t talk about gunshot wounds with civilians, most of whom had never seen one. Judd and Cash had seen their share. Judd turned and walked toward the intensive care unit.
* * *
“You took his guns away from him, didn’t you?” Maude asked Cash when Cash pulled up in front of the house.
He nodded. “They’re locked up in my office.” His expression was somber. “But there’s still a pistol and a shotgun in the house somewhere. Crissy told me. You’d better get all the ammunition and lock it up somewhere.”
“The minute I get inside,” Maude promised.
Tippy glanced from one of them to the other. “You aren’t serious,” she remarked.
Cash met her eyes. “If she were my wife, that’s what Maude would be doing for me,” he said flatly. “And yes, I’m serious. Maybe Judd hasn’t realized it yet, but he won’t have a life left if Christabel dies. It isn’t logical, but it’s what some men do when they’re out of their minds with grief. We don’t need another tragedy.”
“Amen,” Maude said. She dabbed at her eyes. “Well, you should go and take Miss Moore back to town,” she told Cash. “Not that I’ll sleep. Are you sure I shouldn’t stay with Judd tonight?”
“I won’t leave him,” Cash assured her. “And I’ll call you when I know something. I promise.”
“All right, then,” Maude said. She gave Tippy a gentle smile. “You keep that sweater,” she told her. “I’ll get yours back and wash it and press it for you.”
“Thank you,” Tippy said softly, and she smiled.
Cash drove her to town. He didn’t speak and neither did she. In fact, she sat with her arms folded tight over her chest, looking uncomfortable.
“For a man-eater, you’re surprisingly tame,” he commented when he pulled up in front of her hotel.
She gave him a cool look. “I’ve done some stupid things. I don’t like myself very much right now.” She shrugged. “Did you see what she did?” she added heavily. “She stepped right in front of the gun. She saw it coming. She didn’t even hesitate. She must...love him very much,” she added, almost choking on the words.
“She does,” he agreed, feeling the words and hating them.
She glanced at him curiously. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
“If I am, it’s nobody’s business except my own,” he told her flatly.
She sighed. “Now you’re hostile again. Look, I have a hard time with men. A real hard time. Gary Mays, the assistant director, has been driving me up the wall trying to get me into bed. Judd pretended to be interested in me, to keep him at bay, and I took it a little too seriously. That’s all it was.” She glared at him again. “I wouldn’t have a man for life on a bun with sauce.”
His eyebrows arched and he looked at her intently. “That’s just how I feel about women.”
She relaxed a little. Her eyes slid over him carefully. “I trust men in uniform,” she blurted out. “Cops have gotten me out of some of the worst tangles in my life.”
He was beginning to get a picture of her that was disturbing. Far from the pose she affected on the job, she was shy and introverted and frightened of him when it was just the two of them, alone.
“I have to go in,” she said. “I hope Christabel will be all right. Judd, too.”
“Why don’t you look Gary Mays right in the eye and tell him you’ll have him up for sexual harassment if he doesn’t back off?” he asked abruptly.
Her eyes almost popped. “It wouldn’t work.”
“It would. If you can stop a man, you can dominate him.”
“Interesting philosophy,” she said.
“Not mine. I read Juan Belmonte’s autobiography. He was a famous bullfighter in the early 1900s. He said it works as well with men as it does with bulls. It does.”
“You’d know,” she murmured dryly.
“Yes. I would.”
She got out
of the truck, a little slowly. “Thanks for the ride.”
He scowled and peered at her closely. “Can you see me?” he asked unexpectedly.
She was surprised by the question. She smiled. “Sort of,” she replied.
“You’re nearsighted and you won’t wear your glasses,” he guessed.
She laughed. It sounded like silver bells tinkling. “And I can’t wear contacts.”
He studied her. Despite the tragedy of the day, she piqued his curiosity. “You’re a puzzle. I’ve said some things to you that I shouldn’t have. You’re not what I thought you were.”
She was watching him with new respect. “Neither are you,” she said.
“Think about what I said,” he told her as he started the truck. “You don’t have to take that sort of crap from an assistant director. If you can’t make him stop, let me know. I’ll stop him.”
She shrugged and managed a smile. “I’ll keep in touch with Maude.”
He nodded. He didn’t say another word. Seconds later, he was on his way to the hospital.
* * *
Judd sat alone in the chapel. They’d let him in for a handful of minutes to look down on Christabel’s white, drawn little face. If he’d been able to get to a bar, he could have gone through a fifth of whisky afterward. It was shocking to see her like that. She was hooked up to half a dozen monitoring machines with a needle in her arm feeding her nutrients and apparently a narcotic for pain. There was a tube coming out of her side to drain her chest. Perhaps it was the same tube they’d used to reinflate the lung as well.
Not since she was sixteen had she been so badly hurt, and even then it wasn’t this serious. There hadn’t been the risk that she could die from her father’s brutal beating. This was different. She looked fragile and helpless and so alone. Her big dark eyes were closed. There were dark circles under them. When she breathed, he heard the slow rasp of fluid in her chest. Her lips were blue. She looked as if she’d already died.
He’d touched her small hand with his big one and remembered the last thing she’d said to him before Clark showed up. Tippy had told her that he’d been disgusted with her, that he hadn’t wanted her hanging on him, running after him with her heart on her sleeve. His eyes had closed with a shudder. If she didn’t make it, her last memory of him would be one of pain and betrayal.
