“I’ve got her,” Mike repeated and rolled Sandy into his arms.
“Don’t let her go. She’s hurt. We’re having a baby. I love her. We’re getting married.” He was babbling but couldn’t help it.
“I won’t let her go. Go with CJ.”
“Come on.” CJ started to lead him away.
“I’ve got to be with him, Mike,” Sandy pleaded. “Please.”
“I know. It’s okay. We’re right behind him. We’re heading over to the paramedics.”
Even as Mike said that, two paramedics ran past them. Clint turned to see where they were going and nearly lost his balance. CJ caught him before he could fall. The paramedics knelt over Chuck.
“I know how you feel.” CJ’s hand on his shoulder got Clint moving in the right direction. “He’s got priority right now, though.”
“Just get us to my truck. Tommy can get Sandy and me to the hospital.”
“Buddy, I don’t think your truck’s going anywhere. Even if it was, none of you are fit to drive. Tommy’s got a broken nose and a concussion. The adrenaline crash is rattling through his body like an eight point six earthquake.”
Clint was starting to know what that felt like. CJ sat him down in the back of the fire chief’s SUV. Mike put Sandy next to him. She pulled up his shirt and sucked in her breath.
CJ opened a first-aid kit on his other side. “Looks like it grazed you. You’re going to need stitches, but we’ll get you bandaged up for now.”
“You look like shit,” Mike told Sandy. “What happened?”
Vertigo assaulted Clint when he jerked his head around to see what Mike meant. Nausea was next. He leaned forward and puked. Sandy pressed one hand to his forehead through the vomiting.
“That’s supposed to be my job.” He wiped his mouth over the edge of his T-shirt. “Sorry, guys.”
“We’ve seen worse.” CJ kicked sand over the mess and continued to work on him.
Clint studied Sandy’s face. It looked like someone had beaten her. “When I find the bastard who did this—”
“He’s already dead.” Wincing, she pressed her hand over her belly. “He tackled me. We fought. I grabbed his rifle. When he came after me, I shot him.”
“Good.” He patted her thigh. “Self-defense.”
“Lie down.” Mike gently pushed her back.
Sandy didn’t argue. “But I can’t say that about Chuck.”
Clint frowned and tried to twist around. CJ pulled him face-front.
“You shot Chuck?” he asked.
“No.” Dwight’s shadow cut the glare of lights. “One of the deputies shot Chuck. If I’m not mistaken, she shot you.”
Clint glanced over his shoulder. “I told you guns were bad.”
“I’m sorry.” Pain twisted her face. She clutched her stomach and drew both knees up. It didn’t take a genius to know she might be having a miscarriage. Clint reached back to rest his hand on her hip. It was poor comfort when he wanted to have her in his arms.
Dwight pulled out his notepad. “I don’t suppose either of you is up to answering a few questions.”
“What the fuck do you think?” Clint snapped.
Sandy touched his back. “Please, no more yelling. God…the pain.”
“I’ll call Tim. He’ll be able to get the three of you to the hospital quicker than anyone else,” Mike said. “I’d take you myself, but I can’t leave the scene.”
“Thank you,” Sandy muttered. “Just ask your questions and be done with it, Detective. But I expect you to fill in some gaps for us too. You first.”
Clint stared at him. “You heard the lady.”
Dwight’s eyes narrowed with his weary sigh. “Marjorie had come to the store for her bracelet, and while looking for it, she overheard her father talking with a Spanish-speaking male about the next shipment coming in. Cocaine and illegals. They were negotiating a price. They caught her hiding in the cooler, and Martin struck her. She fell, and when she came to, she realized she was trapped. She heard someone working on the door, yelled for help, but no help came. Now we know why.”
“Because Chuck was working with Martin,” Sandy said. “You might want to get some ground-penetrating radar to search the septic tank system. I understand one was being dug around that time. That might be where you’ll find Marjorie’s car.”
“Doesn’t make much sense that they would do that and leave her in the cooler, but we’ll check it out,” Dwight said. “What I don’t understand is why she would be toting her camera bag into the store if she was only running in to find her bracelet.”
Clint snorted. “She’d threatened the day before to take pictures of the cooler in the event Chuck didn’t fix it. She wanted leverage against him. Plus, she always kept her wallet and phone with her, but she hated carrying a purse. She always wanted her hands free to take pictures. And your questions were…?” he asked Dwight.
“Give me your rundown of what happened here tonight. Tell me why you were here.”
“Are we going to be charged with anything?” Clint asked.
“That’s not for me to say. My take on it is that you were under attack, defending yourselves, and trying to save innocent people from certain death. I’m hoping that outweighs the fact that you were interfering with an investigation.”
“We didn’t know we were interfering. The crime tape was gone. Besides, if we hadn’t, those people would have died,” Clint said.
“Exactly.” He poised pen over paper. “Lay it out for me.”
They were finishing up when Tim arrived. It killed Clint not to be the one to carry Sandy to the backseat of Tim’s truck, but at that point, his own pain had tripled and he was seeing double everything. Tommy wasn’t faring much better. CJ put him in the front seat while Mike helped Clint into the back with Sandy. Tim shoved barf bags into everyone’s hands, then headed for the hospital.
“Don’t let me go,” Sandy whispered.
“Never.”
Keeping that promise proved impossible when they reached the emergency room. Medical personnel split them up in seconds. Within two hours, Clint found himself admitted for overnight observation and under Maude Allen’s care again. Stitches had taken care of the bullet graze on his side. His knuckles were cut and bruised, but his hand wasn’t broke. A concussion landed him in the hospital. He’d be feeling it all for a while.
“Seems like you’re making a habit of this. I’m starting to think you’ve got a thing for me.” Maude fussed over the IV in his arm, checking the bag. “Ready for some company?”
“No. How’s Sandy?”
“She’s doing as well as can be expected. A little drugged up right now. We’re keeping her overnight as well.”
“Our baby?”
“Still nestled snug as a bug in a rug, and we’re hoping to keep it that way. That tackle she took wasn’t good.”
Relief did more for Clint than the drugs dancing through his system.
“And Tommy?”
“In the next room and about the same as you, without the gunshot wound to his side. From everything I’ve heard, I’m guessing you don’t want a status report on the other brother.”
“I don’t, but I suspect you’re going to give it to me anyway.”
“They took him down to Desert for surgery to remove the bullet, but he’ll live.”
“Too bad.” He and fucking Keith Randall would be good company for each other down there. “What happened to all the illegals?”
“They were in bad condition and were taken to Arrowhead.” She looped her fingers over the bed rail. “Your parents are downstairs.”
“Good for them.” He’d forgotten his mother was going to be discharged today.
“Goodness, you are in a snit. Are you sure you want to be that way?”
“Damn it, Maude. Tell them visiting hours are over. Tell them I’m knocked out. Tell them anything you want. I’ve had enough drama for one day.” Hell, he’d had enough drama to last a lifetime.
Eyes closed, he sank i
nto his pillow. He opened them when he heard commotion at the door and was ready to tell his parents to get out when he saw an orderly pushing another bed into the room. Sandy.
Maude patted his knee. “I know you said no company, but I figured you wouldn’t mind once you saw who it was.”
He teared up. “Can you put our beds right next to each other?”
She wagged her finger. “Long as there’s no hanky-panky.”
“On our best behavior,” Sandy said with a weak laugh.
Maude moved the table next to his bed, and the orderly pushed Sandy into place beside him.
“You two behave yourselves,” Maude said, then left with her orderly, closing the door behind them.
“Before you ask, I called my parents,” Sandy mumbled. “They’re coming up tomorrow. I couldn’t stop them.”
“Did you really want to?”
“No. I’m scared. Exhausted. Angry.”
“Me too.” A thousand times over.
“I’m so sorry I shot you.” Her chin trembled. “Here I thought I was going all bad-ass, saving my man.”
“You are my hero.” Clint scooted closer to the bed rail and reached for her hand.
Sandy grabbed it. “God, you’re mine. The way you locked into fight mode. The fire in your eyes. Like an avenging god. Damn it, Clint, I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetheart.” He squeezed her hand, wishing he could kiss it, kiss her, hold her.
“Don’t let go,” she whispered.
“Doing the best I can, bright eyes.”
Chapter Thirteen
Clint scooped Sandy into his arms while her dad dashed toward the house to open the front door. It’d been the longest twenty-four hours of his life with her in the hospital and him at home. Finally, it was over, and Clint swore he was never letting her out of his sight again. More or less.
“I’m beginning to like the princess treatment.” She rested her head on his shoulder.
“You deserve it, angel.” Vivian fluttered about, making sure no obstacles stood in Clint’s way as he carried Sandy inside.
How had he managed to live this long without her parents? They somehow made everything easier to bear. Especially when he’d had to be without Sandy the night before when the doctor had determined she had to remain one more night. Maude drew the line at overnighters when one of them was no longer a patient. Now Sandy was home, on bed rest for another week. The doctor indicated it could go either way with the baby. With her parents there to care for her, Clint would be able to work without worrying too much about her. He had to admit he loved that he could turn everything over to Dean and Vivian and know it would be handled. Gardening, housework, meals… Dean had even followed up with insurance calls for Sandy yesterday while Vivian bought Sandy much needed clothing. Clint might let them go home sometime. He rather wished they lived closer.
“On the sofa, please,” Sandy asked. “I want to be with everyone.”
“You got it.” Before Clint could put her down, Vivian was back with pillows and a blanket.
Sandy shifted into a more comfortable position. He tried not to hover—that was Vivian’s job—but it wasn’t easy.
“Remote? Phone? Laptop?” he asked her.
Sandy smiled. “All the above. My tote’s in—”
“I know. I’ll grab it.” He dropped a quick kiss to her lips and headed outside to retrieve it but stopped short when he saw Dwight pulling to a stop at the curb. Judging from his dour expression, he didn’t bring good news. Clint was tempted to deal with him and the issues outside, but Sandy would want to know everything. They’d agreed no more secrets, no matter what.
Clint pulled Sandy’s tote from his truck and waited for Dwight to reach him. “News?”
“Yeah, and this.” Dwight handed him a DVD. “Marjorie’s last words, recorded for you and Danny. Twelve. You’ll know once you watch it what that means. It’s uhm…not easy.”
“Thanks.” Clint slipped the DVD from his hand and dropped it into Sandy’s tote. “Let’s go inside.”
“I’d rather not.”
“I’m not giving you a choice.” He gave the man his back and headed for the house, knowing Dwight would follow.
All heads turned their way when they walked in. Clint placed the tote next to Sandy and motioned Dwight to a chair while he sat at her feet on the couch.
“I’m going to get right to the point.” Dwight’s nod seemed to affirm that more for himself than for them. “Keith was released from the hospital today. He’s been demanding to talk to Erica. She’s agreed to meet with him and wear a wire. In other words, we’re setting a trap for him.”
“And Mike’s good with this?” Sandy asked.
“He is.” Another nod tilted their way. “I’m putting patrolmen on watch outside this house just in case. Though I really don’t think there’s a chance Keith will come here.”
Clint curled his fingers over Sandy’s calf. “Did you ever find his sister?”
“Not yet. But honestly, Sandy’s got nothing either of them wants at this point. Still, I want to be cautious.”
“We won’t leave her side,” Dean told him.
“Good. We’ll keep you posted.” Dwight’s gaze focused on Sandy. “We’ve got a little more information to add to what you already know. We searched the septic tank as you suggested. Marjorie’s car wasn’t there, but we did find bodies. A lot of bodies. We’re told most died of natural causes, but with some it must have been easier to kill them rather than get them started in a new life. We’re still going over the property. We’re still trying to piece together the information. Who knew what when. Who did what. There’s a lot of finger-pointing going on between Chuck, Annie, and Martin. Looks like Marjorie’s car was stored in the barn until dark, when one of their associates took it to Mexico. As far as I’m concerned, all three of them are guilty as hell. They’ve got bulging bank accounts all over the place to prove that. Along with passports, false identification, and currency for at least three foreign countries. Martin was preparing to run to Brazil. Chuck and Annie weren’t going to be far behind. They had no plans to take their kids with them. Annie did admit giving Keith the burner phone was a move to distract you from the homestead issue while they took care of loose ends. There’s nothing anyone can say to convince me that Annie didn’t know about Marjorie’s death. She’s got her fingers in everything else. Why not that?”
Clint agreed. When the chips were down, the three of them hadn’t wasted any time casting blame at one another. They’d yet to reveal the names of their other associates. Clint knew it was only a matter of time before one of them caved. God, the things they’d done, including helping illegal immigrant women give birth, then selling the babies. Annie had used her hospital connections to target women unable to bear children. No wonder they’d fought the sale to SunSpots. They’d been making a fortune and were determined to keep it at any cost, starting with the arson attempt on Clint’s life, then shooting his mother at the homestead. Both were on Chuck’s orders. At least now they knew the real reason the store had never been boarded. It was the perfect lookout spot. From that location, a spotter could report the instant someone came onto the property.
It was Annie who’d tracked Clint to Sandy’s house, looking for a chance to attack. When she saw a woman—presumably Keith’s sister—setting a fire in the garage, Annie took it to the next level and made sure it spread. Then she’d vented her jealousy on Sandy’s garden. They never heard a sound.
Annie had also been the one to alert Chuck that Mom was on the way to the homestead with people. So Chuck had had them ambushed, with orders to kill. His own mother. Clint wasn’t sorry they’d been arrested, but he sure as hell felt bad for their children, who were now with Annie’s sister since Annie’s arrest yesterday. As for their hidden wealth—the government would most likely be seizing every penny.
“I also thought you’d be relieved to know that there will be no charges filed against either of you in the deaths of those men. It was ru
led self-defense,” Dwight said.
Sighs of relief filtered through the room.
Dwight snapped to his feet. “I’ve got to get back to it. That’s all I have for now. I’ll keep you posted.”
Vivian saw him to the door and locked it tight afterward. “I…I think I’ll see what wonderfulness I can make for dinner.” She darted to the kitchen with Dean right behind her.
“How in the world did I manage without them?”
Sandy brushed her toes over him. “I understand you’ve been very well cared for in my absence.”
Clint tucked himself against the corner of the sofa and pulled her feet into his lap. “Let’s just say I’ve certainly found out who my friends are.”
Danny, of course. Sandy’s firefighter family—ditto there. As Sandy had told him before, when firefighters were off-duty, they had a lot of time on their hands. Time they were devoting to Clint right now while he and Tommy healed from their injuries.
They’d stepped in without asking to help him do furniture pickups and deliveries. Several had even offered the loan of their personal trucks when Clint discovered that not only was his truck going to be in the shop for a very long time, but that if he put in an insurance claim on it, his insurance would be canceled. The adjuster had determined it was an at-fault accident, based on negligence, driven by an unauthorized third-party. Never mind the fact they were trying to save thirty people from a burning building. So while Clint had his attorney fighting that call—the man could put his kid through college with Clint’s issues alone—Clint had no choice but to pay for the extensive repairs or buy a new truck, while he still owed on the old one. That was when Tommy decided to trade in his car for a truck. Problem somewhat solved, business-wise.
Sandy reached into her tote and pulled out the DVD.
“Marjorie’s words,” Clint said upon seeing it in her hands. “Dwight gave it to me. I want to wait until Danny gets here to watch it. I doubt I’m going to be able to see it more than once.”
“You might want to shoot him a text to warn him in advance.” She set it on the coffee table, then retrieved her phone. “Any word from SunSpots?”
Flames from Ashes Page 21
