A female paramedic asked him if he was injured. Matt shook his head mutely, wondering why she would think so. They asked him again when they arrived in the ER, and he snapped at the nurse. It wasn’t until he was in the men’s room at the hospital and glanced in a mirror that he could see what she’d seen. They’d given him a green scrub to wear in the ambulance. It had blood all over it. So did his hands, and his arms. There was even a smudge of dried blood on his cheek. All of it Kiernan’s. Too much blood, he thought as he stared at himself in horror. Too much for one body to lose.
The ER was terrifying. They tried to get him to leave the room, but he flashed his badge and refused, and they left him alone. He watched as they cut away Kiernan’s clothes, started an IV, assessed his injury. He looked pale and small lying there, all his usual animation absent. The sight made Matt’s throat ache.
“In and out,” a doctor said. “Entry wound rear upper right quadrant, exit wound front center. Traumatic pneumothorax, right lung. Clipped a major artery, with resulting blood loss…”
Matt knew it was true. He’d seen the puddle on the hardwood floor at the house, the amount on the floor of the ambulance, the trail left as they wheeled the gurney into an exam room. So much blood…
He rubbed his forehead and noticed he still had dried blood caked under his nails. He needed a shower—but not until Kiernan was out of surgery and they told him he was fine.
Because he would be fine, he told himself over and over. He would. He had to be. He would be fine. Because the alternative…he couldn’t even allow himself to think about it. If he did, his chest felt tight and he couldn’t breathe. His hands would shake, reflecting the trembling shuddering through his core.
No. He’d be fine. He’d be fine.
“Oh, Matty! There you are!”
Sheila entered the waiting room, and he pushed to his feet only to be taken into her embrace. She held him tightly, and he encircled her with his arms, dropping his forehead onto her shoulder and inhaling her comforting scent. She clutched his back and reached up with one hand to card her fingers in his hair.
“Are you all right?” she asked finally, her mouth near his ear. He hesitated, and then shook his head. “Oh, sweetheart. How is he?”
“I don’t know.” Finally stepping back, he looked down at the floor. He was afraid if he looked into her eyes, he’d lose it completely. “He’s been in surgery for two hours. They haven’t told me anything.” He paused, his throat thick and his eyes burning. “I can’t do this again, Sheil. I can’t. It’ll kill me if I lose…”
She rubbed his arm. “Let me see what I can find out.”
She turned and walked away, and Matt collapsed wearily into the hard chair, his hands over his face. She was back in less than five minutes. He looked at her, unable to help himself but terrified of what he might see in her eyes.
“He’s holding his own.” She gripped his hand, her gaze reassuring. “They’ve been able to repair the tear in his aorta—”
Matt stiffened. “Isn’t that his heart?”
“It’s the artery that leads to his heart. Fortunately, the tear was very small. Now they’re working on the hole in his lung. But, listen to me, Matt. He’s holding his own.”
Matt exhaled, nodding, but his chest still felt like there was a metal band around it, squeezing his heart.
“I’ve called Aidan,” Sheila went on. “She said she’ll be on the next plane.”
“Thanks,” Matt muttered. “I didn’t even think of that.”
“You’ve had your hands full.”
They sat in silence for a long time, Matt’s mind racing in circles. “How did you even know to come here? I haven’t had the time to call anyone.”
“Someone down in the ER recognized you, and knew you were my brother-in-law. She called me, figuring you could use some moral support.”
Matt nodded, his eyes going once again to the floor.
“So, it was Garrett Preston who killed the little girl,” Sheila said softly. “It’s all over the news. You and Kiernan are heroes.”
“Yeah, I’ll just bet the department thinks so.”
“Actually, Captain Branson has been very complimentary.” Sheila’s lips quirked. “Of course, to do anything else would make him look like an enormous ass. Oh, and they’ve arrested those two detectives who showed up at my house. Apparently they were in collusion with Preston. He was paying them.”
“I’m not surprised,” Matt said, his voice flat. “Too bad about the younger one, though. I’m betting he got caught up in it because he’s Conrad’s partner.”
“Exactly.”
Matt heard the deep voice about the time he spotted the dark shoes in front of him. He jerked his head up to find Ed Partridge standing near his chair. He had a small half-smile around his lips, and his eyes were kind.
“How you holding up there, Bennett?”
“I’m all right.” Matt stood and shook Ed’s hand. “How are things?”
“Damned interesting,” Ed said. “Not every day I get to bust a crooked ADA, even though he is nuttier than a fruitcake. To see my boss have to eat a huge helping of humble pie was a bonus. Does the old heart good, days like this one.”
“You arrested Preston, then? Did you get the whole story?”
“Karen Reynolds was more than happy to tell us everything she knew, and Preston was lucid enough to confess to the murder of Abigail Reynolds. Of course, when he started talking about a ghost attacking him with fireplace ashes, we sort of took that part with a grain of salt.” He gave Matt a faint smirk. “Care to corroborate his story?”
“What did Karen say?” he asked instead.
Ed’s grin deepened. “That she thinks Mr. Preston is deeply disturbed.”
“I think I’ll agree with her assessment.”
“I rather thought you would. And now I get to take the good news down to the tombs and tell Mr. Reynolds he’ll be home in time for New Year’s Eve.”
“I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear it.”
“I’m sure he will. And Conrad and Irvine will probably be doing a stretch as well, but I think Irvine’s will be less, considering he got led into it by the senior partner.” He paused. “So when did you plan to tell us someone had already taken a shot at you?”
Sheila gasped. “What?”
Matt didn’t look at her. “When I could prove who it was. Conrad, I’m guessing.”
“Right in one. He sang like a bird once he heard Preston had sold him out. The dumb fuck. I never did like that guy.” Ed clapped Matt lightly on the shoulder. “Nice work, Detective. I’m sure you’ll be hearing from Branson shortly, telling you to come back whenever you feel ready.”
Matt nodded, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever feel ready.
Ed left to deliver the good news to Marc Reynolds. Matt reclaimed his miserable chair. Another hour went by, and then another. At one point Sheila told him it was nearly 6 a.m. and she was heading out to find a cup of coffee, but Matt scarcely heard her.
He closed his eyes, trying to quiet his mind, to no avail. His thoughts spun one on top of another, over and over, the most prominent being he cannot die…he cannot die… He drifted off to sleep using the words as his mantra.
He cannot die… He cannot die…
* * *
He was sitting on the hard plastic chair outside of surgery, still waiting for news of Kiernan, when he felt a soft touch on his hand. He looked up, and Abby Reynolds smiled at him, her cornflower-blue eyes wide, her burnished ringlets brushing her shoulders. She was wearing a pretty white ruffled party dress and she was holding a toy unicorn with a striped horn in her arms. She sat next to him, her feet in white ruffled socks and shiny white patent leather shoes which didn’t touch the floor.
“I’m going to go now,” she said without prompting. “It’s time. Kier
nan told me what to do.”
“He did?” Matt said, unaccountably saddened. She nodded, and her curls bounced. “I’ll miss you,” he said, and found it was the truth.
“I’ll miss you, too. You’re my friend. You and Kiernan.”
“I’m glad.” And he was.
“Check on my mommy sometimes, will you? She’s going to be lonely for a while. At least until my little brother gets here. He’ll make her feel better.”
“She’ll always miss you, Abby.”
“Just like I’ll miss her. But we’ll be together again someday. You believe that, don’t you Matt?” Her eyes were wide and guileless.
“Yeah, I do. Now.”
She hopped off the chair, and he expected her to go, but she didn’t. She looked at him, an odd smile on her piquant face.
“What?”
“I’m going,” she said with quiet emphasis. “But Kiernan isn’t.”
Matt’s breath caught in his throat.
“Do you understand? He’s staying. It isn’t his turn yet.”
Matt inhaled sharply, his eyes beginning to fill. “Yes, I understand. Thank you, Abby.”
She grinned. “Don’t thank me. And don’t waste any more time.” She angled her head, and suddenly she looked much older than six. “Life is a wonderful thing, but it can be shorter than you think. Don’t waste a second of it.” She started for the door, but then stopped and placed the toy carefully on a chair in the corner. “Here, Skittles can keep you company. I don’t think he’d like it much where I’m going.”
She came back to press a kiss to Matt’s cheek, and he could actually feel her soft lips, smell the soft scents of talcum powder and peppermint. She turned and walked away, pausing to wave from the doorway before she simply faded into nothing.
* * *
Matt jerked awake, gasping. He sat up straight, and felt a hand close over his.
“Matt. What is it?”
He looked over into Sheila’s eyes and blinked quickly. “Dream.” He rubbed his hands roughly over his face. “How long was I out?”
“Maybe twenty minutes.” She offered her cup.
Matt shook his head. “No, thanks. I don’t think my stomach could take it.” He exhaled, his breath shuddering. “I’m guessing there was no news.”
“Not yet, but there should be soon.”
Almost as if their conversation had drawn him, the doors to surgery swung open with a soft whoosh, and a doctor in green scrubs and a paper hairnet appeared, his mask hanging loose around his neck. “Mr. Bennett?”
Matt surged to his feet. “Yes.”
The doctor crossed to him and offered his hand. “I’m Dr. Sterling. I did the surgery on your friend.”
“Is he all right?”
The doctor’s face softened in a weary smile. “He’s a tough one. We had a couple of scary moments there, but he made it and his vitals are much better than any of us could have expected. We were able to repair the aorta and close the hole in his lung. He’ll be sore for a while, but other than that, there shouldn’t be any long-term effects. He was very lucky.”
Matt exhaled fully for the first time since he realized Kiernan had been hit, his knees suddenly weak. He was grateful when Sheila was there, her arm going around his waist.
“Oh, thank God,” she said, holding out her hand. “Thank you so much, doctor.”
He shook her hand. “He should be out of recovery in a bit. I’ll have a nurse come for you when he regains consciousness.”
He left. Matt turned into Sheila’s arms, pulling her to his chest and holding her tight.
“I’m so glad,” she said. “For both of you.”
Matt stepped back and nodded, and he didn’t even mind that Sheila could see his relieved tears. He brushed at them with his fingers, laughing weakly, and turned.
And stopped.
Sitting on a chair in the corner was a stuffed white unicorn with a fuzzy pink mane and tail and a candy-colored striped horn. His head was cocked at a quizzical angle, as if he had asked a question and was waiting for an answer.
Matt stared at it, his heart swelling. “Sheila,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Where did that come from?”
She looked at the toy and shrugged. “No idea. I noticed it when I got back with my coffee. I figured maybe a child left it there accidentally.”
Matt crossed the room and picked it up. The fur was soft and the black button eyes shone. “A child left it,” he murmured. “But it wasn’t an accident.”
* * *
The hospital was bustling with activity by the next morning. Kiernan had been moved overnight, and Matt stopped at the nurses’ station, asking for directions to Room 535. The nurse smiled at him and pointed, and Matt returned her smile.
He’d seen Kiernan for a brief moment in recovery, but he’d been so groggy and out of it Matt hadn’t lingered. If Sheila hadn’t been with him, reassuring him that the sheer amount of medical paraphernalia he was hooked up to was just regular post-op, Matt would have been terrified. There were dozens of tubes going in and out under the light blankets, and his face was mostly covered with an oxygen mask. Matt stayed just long enough to touch his hand and find it warm, and to reassure himself he really was breathing. After, he followed Sheila’s advice and went home for a shower, dodging the media still camped outside his house. They were friendly and anxious to hear his side of the dramatic events of the night before, but Matt couldn’t have been less interested in talking to them.
He went back to the hospital that night. Kiernan was still mostly unresponsive, drifting in and out, but the weak squeeze he gave Matt’s hand and his soft smile were reassuring.
Sheila picked Aidan up at the airport and brought her directly to the hospital. Matt was concerned before she arrived. After all, she’d told him if anything happened to Kiernan she’d hold him responsible, and in his heart he couldn’t help feeling that he was. But she looked at her brother, tears streaming down her pale cheeks, then turned to Matt and opened her arms.
“You didn’t do this,” she whispered against his ear. “Kiernan has always made his own choices. You mustn’t blame yourself.”
Matt hadn’t realized how much he needed to hear the words until her absolution rushed over him like a cleansing wave, leaving him weak with relief. She sent him home, vowing to spend the night at Kiernan’s bedside. Matt had been able to go back home and collapse, sleeping twelve hours straight.
He’d been eating a piece of toast in front of the television when he saw coverage of Marc Reynolds’ release from jail into his wife’s waiting arms. “There ya go, Abby,” he’d murmured, and his smile had lasted all the way back to the hospital.
He paused briefly outside Room 535, then pushed the door open and walked cautiously inside.
The room was awash with winter sunlight from a large window falling across the narrow bed in a bright square. Kiernan’s head was turned toward it, his eyes closed. Aidan wasn’t there, and Matt wondered fleetingly where she was, then remembered Sheila promising to come and take her to breakfast.
He was profoundly relieved to find the amount of medical equipment around Kiernan vastly reduced. He was still connected to an IV and there was a blood pressure cuff around his left arm. An oxygen tube looped around his ears and was inserted in his nose, but his heartbeat showed with reassuring steadiness on a monitor above his head on the wall. Matt crossed to the foot of the bed and studied him.
His black hair was tousled, and his jaw and upper lip were shadowed. There were dark smudges beneath his closed eyes, and his long black lashes lay on cheeks that were very pale. Still, Matt didn’t think he’d ever seen anything in his life as welcome as the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath the bedding. He stood there for several minutes, simply enjoying watching Kiernan breathe, when the black lashes twitched and then slo
wly lifted. He blinked several times, inhaled deeply and then grimaced, his hand moving to the thick bandages over his chest.
“Are you in pain?”
Kiernan turned his head quickly. “Hey,” he said, his voice rough.
“Hey, yourself.” Matt crossed around to his bedside, and saw a cup of ice water with a straw sitting on a table near his head. “Are you thirsty?”
Kiernan nodded, and Matt lifted the cup, turning the straw to his lips. Kiernan took small sips, then pulled back with a sigh.
“Better?”
“Much.” Kiernan looked up at him, and the small smile that spread across his features made Matt feel like the most important person in the world.
“Hi,” Kiernan murmured.
“Hi.” Matt gestured toward Kiernan’s chest. “Sore?”
“Yeah, a bit.” Kiernan lifted his hand and Matt took it. “But it’s not too bad.”
“Good.” Matt leaned over and pressed his forehead against Kiernan’s, closing his eyes. “You scared ten years off of my life.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “But I couldn’t just let him shoot you. I had to…”
“It’s all right.” Matt pulled back slightly and looked into his eyes. “I know. I’d have done exactly the same thing if our situations had been reversed.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Kiernan’s lips. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Matt kissed him. He’d meant it to be a simple peck, but it turned into a slow, lingering kiss, full of everything he felt and didn’t know how to say. Kiernan stroked his head, then his neck. When their lips parted, Matt pulled a chair close to the bed and sat. He withdrew something from inside his coat, and when he set it on Kiernan’s chest, the dark-haired man looked at it with a quizzical smile.
“Where did that come from?”
“It was a gift.”
“It looks just like Skittles.” Kiernan touched the pink mane, a nostalgic smile flirting with his lips.
“I’m pretty sure it is Skittles.”
Kiernan’s eyes darted to his. Matt told him about his dream and about finding the stuffed animal on the chair when he’d wakened.
A Reason to Believe Page 27
