by Radclyffe
“Easy, buddy.” Both her voice and her grip were kind, but her eyes were sharp and hard. “We’re just trying to help you out here.”
“It’s all right,” Tory said quietly. “He’ll settle down in a second.”
“I’ll just stay here until he does.”
Tory recognized the intractability in her lover’s tone and made no reply. Glancing across the boy’s supine figure to her associate, she said, “We should probably put him on a Narcan drip so he doesn’t go out again. I’ll draw blood for a tox screen first if you want to set up the infusion.”
“Sure.”
While Dan was busy mixing the intravenous drip, Reese motioned Bri closer with a tilt of her chin. “Check his pockets for ID. We need to notify family.”
Bri patted him down and pulled a wallet from the voluminous side pocket of his tan canvas cargo shorts. She flipped it open and sorted through the cards inside. “Robert Allen Bridger. Fifteen years old. Same address as the registration.”
“Robert,” Tory said sharply, attempting to get the confused boy’s attention. “Robert, can you hear me? I’m Dr. King. Robert? You’re going to be all right.”
The young patient turned unfocused eyes in her direction and mumbled incoherently.
“He’s going to need to be transported to Hyannis for admission,” Tory informed Reese. “Until we get the labs back, we can’t be certain exactly what he’s taken or what other problems might develop.” She smiled faintly at Reese. “You can let go of him now that Dan has the drip going.”
Reese stepped back, keeping one eye on the restless youth while she spoke to Bri. “Check with Lyons and Tremont to see if they found anything else with the vehicle. Particularly any sign of what he might have ingested. I’ll give his parents a call. Looks like he stole the family car and set off to have a little fun.” She shook her head. “Some fun.”
“I’m on it,” Bri replied and headed for the door.
Tory rested her hand lightly on Reese’s forearm. “Why don’t you use my office to make your calls.”
“Where’s the baby?” Reese asked quietly.
“With her grandmothers.” Tory brushed her fingers over the top of Reese’s hand, noting that her lover made no response. Gently, she repeated, “Go ahead, darling. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Silently, Reese turned and walked away.
*
Twenty minutes later, Tory slipped into her office just as Reese, who sat with a hip on the corner of the large walnut desk, hung up the phone. “Did you reach his parents?”
“Yes. They’re on their way to the hospital in Hyannis. It will take them a couple of hours to get there.”
Tory nodded. “The EMTs are just leaving. By the time his parents arrive, he’ll probably be settled in.”
“How’s he doing?”
“He’s stable. He’ll bear watching for a day or two, depending on what kinds of drugs he’s been doing. Relapses are not uncommon with some of the popular cocktails nowadays.” Tory crossed the room and stopped a few inches from Reese. “He’s very lucky that you came by when you did. Another ten or fifteen minutes and he would’ve been in full arrest.”
“One of the townspeople noticed that the car had been there all afternoon and called it in.” Reese shrugged. “I didn’t have much to do with it.”
Tory lifted a hand and brushed the dark hair from Reese’s forehead. “You recognized the problem and acted quickly, Sheriff. You saved his life.”
Reese caught Tory’s hand and held it, rubbing her thumb slowly across the top. “What are you doing here?”
“When I stopped by this morning, Dan was really swamped.” Tory sighed. “I kept thinking about it, so I came in to help him out. Kate and Jean said they didn’t mind watching Regina.”
“It seemed pretty quiet when we arrived a while ago.” Reese traced her fingers along Tory’s jaw. “And you look beat. Are you leaving now?”
“In just a little while.” At the look of confusion on Reese’s face, Tory continued quickly, “I need to go over some of the inventory and look at the patient schedules for the next week or so.” She laced her fingers through Reese’s. “I told Dan to go home, Reese. His family needs him, and he needs to be there.”
“Permanently?”
“Most likely, yes.”
“And you’re planning on coming back to work?”
Tory nodded.
“And you decided this already?” Reese spoke quietly, her face composed. “Without talking to me about it?”
“It just came up today, when I was here. I’m sorry. It just seemed like the right thing to do.”
Reese stood, nodded once, and settled her brimmed hat low over her brows. “I have to get back to work. If you need me to pick Reggie up later, I can do that.”
“I won’t be here that long. I’ll get her.” Tory placed her palm against Reese’s chest. “Reese—”
The radio clipped to Reese’s shoulder crackled.
“Sheriff?”
“Go ahead, Lyons,” Reese replied sharply.
“We’ve got a problem out here.”
Reese’s jaw set. “I’ll be right there.” She brushed her lips over Tory’s forehead. “I’ll see you later.”
Tory watched her lover walk away, wishing she could call her back, wishing she could erase the disappointment she had seen in Reese’s eyes. But Reese had a job to do, as did she. Forcing back the sadness and the small sliver of self-recrimination, she sat down behind her desk and reached for the first chart on the ten-inch-high stack that awaited her.
Chapter Four
After thirty minutes of fruitless effort, Tory realized that she wasn’t going to be able to concentrate enough to efficiently finish her chart work.
“I’ll just have to come in tomorrow morning and do it,” she muttered as she tossed her pen aside and rose from behind her desk. Ten seconds later, the cell phone on her belt vibrated. Hoping it was Reese, she snapped it open. “This is Dr. King.”
“It’s Reese. I need you to come out to the scene on 6.”
Tory tensed. “Another victim?”
There was a beat of silence, then Reese’s voice, flat and low.
“No—a DB.”
In addition to her clinical practice, Tory also acted as the county coroner in those rare instances when it was necessary. It wasn’t unusual in small communities where suspicious or unanticipated deaths were rare for a local physician to perform the basic duties of confirming death, noting the time and circumstances, and signing the death certificate. Thankfully, it wasn’t a responsibility she needed to fulfill often.
“I’ll be right there.”
Reese gave her the directions and signed off. On the short drive to the other end of town, Tory tried not to think about what might be waiting for her. No death was ever easy or routine, but at least there was some small comfort in knowing it was part of the natural cycle of life. But violent and senseless death, so often a result of man’s careless or brutal action, was unforgivably tragic. She saw the line of emergency flares isolating the vehicle from the road and slowed to a halt on the shoulder. In the eerie red-orange glow of the magnesium torches, she could make out the silhouettes of figures moving around the vehicle, stringing crime scene tape. One of those shadowy forms, she knew, was her lover. Uncertain of her footing in the semidarkness on the soft, shifting sand, Tory moved forward slowly. When she’d almost reached the rear of the vehicle, Reese materialized from the darkness and extended a hand.
“She’s back here in the brush. Here—hold on to me. The slope here is tricky.”
There had been a time when Tory would never have accepted assistance, even from someone who loved her. The accident that had occurred in the midst of the Olympic rowing heats over a decade before had nearly cost her her leg, but she’d lost more than her ability to compete. For a very long time, she’d lost her independence as well as her health. Her recovery, both physical and emotional, had been slow and hard-won. Only in the last few years had s
he regained enough confidence to allow help and enough strength in her damaged leg not to need it under most circumstances. But this was Reese, and the situation was extreme, and she couldn’t risk an injury now merely for the sake of pride. She closed her fingers around Reese’s hand and inched down the steep slope toward the scrub brush that dotted the dunes.
“What have you got?” Tory asked, her voice sounding very loud in the hushed night air.
“A girl—looks to be the same age as the boy we brought in. From the position of the body and the condition of the terrain, it looks like she was running from someone.”
Tory’s throat closed. “A homicide?”
Reese shone her Mag-Lite on a narrow sandy path that appeared through the darkness for an instant and then disappeared beyond the semicircle of illumination once again. “I’m not sure yet. She might have been running from the boy. Hell, they might just have been fooling around.” She clamped her jaws tightly. “They certainly look the part to be playing silly kids’ games. Barely more than children.”
“Hide and seek? Win a kiss if you catch me?”
“Could be something as simple as that.” Reese shrugged as much in comment as in an attempt to dispel the melancholy. What a waste.
They walked another twenty yards before Reese slowed. A pair of sandaled feet appeared at the far edge of the spot of light that preceded them, then slim legs came into view, followed by narrow hips in white capri pants, a bare midriff with a glint of silver at the navel, and small, high breasts beneath a tight, light blue tube top. Tory’s heart plummeted. The soft face beneath short blond hair was smooth and unmarred. An angel’s face. Oh God.
“Have you moved her?” Tory stood at the juncture of light and shadow observing the body in the harsh artificial illumination.
“No. I just felt for a pulse. There wasn’t one.” Reese blew out a breath of frustration. “Allie Tremont found her. For a rookie, she did good. She kept her head and didn’t contaminate the area, but she did check for a heartbeat. According to Allie, there wasn’t one then either.” Reese jammed her hands in her uniform pockets, her feet spread, her shoulders stiff as she stared down at the young girl’s body. “I should’ve checked the area before I left with the boy. Maybe she was alive then. God damn it.”
“If you had waited, he would’ve died.” Tory didn’t touch Reese because she knew that wasn’t what her lover needed. “You made the right call, Sheriff. Now, is it safe for me to move around here?”
“Yes. We took photographs as best we could. We’re not exactly equipped for a high-tech crime scene analysis here. We won’t be able to really map the area and check for trace until daylight.”
“Did you get 360-degree images of the body?” As she spoke, Tory opened the small satchel she kept in her Jeep for just such call-outs and cautiously knelt in the sand. The victim lay partially on her side, one leg drawn up and her body curled in on itself as if sleeping. Tory checked the muscle tone in the left arm, gently flexing and extending the elbow. It was stiff, but not in full rigor. “She’s been dead for less than ten hours, but definitely for more than two.” She looked up at her lover, silhouetted against the night sky. “You couldn’t have helped her.”
“Not in life, perhaps,” Reese said quietly. She squatted down beside Tory, holding the light for her as she worked. “Do you see anything to suggest homicide?”
“Not yet,” Tory replied, gently rolling the body flat onto its back. “But the best I’m going to be able to do here is recognize severe blunt or penetrating trauma. She’ll need a full postmortem, and that’s going to take someone more skilled than me to do it.” She drew out a palm-sized Dictaphone and described the appearance of the body, indicating position, state of the clothing, presence and absence of identifying marks, evidence of trauma, and noted no apparent disruption in the surrounding area to suggest that a struggle had taken place. At least not there. When she’d finished the brief dictation, she removed a long, thin stylet that resembled a stainless steel knitting needle, pushed up the lower border of the clinging tube top, palpated the lower edge of the twelfth rib on the right side, and pushed the transcutaneous thermometer through the skin and into the right lobe of the liver. “The core temperature will give us a much better indication of time of death. The ambient temperature is fortunately still fairly close to body temperature, so we haven’t lost much heat to the environment. Ask Jeff or Allie to get me a precise temperature reading now, please.”
“Eighty-three degrees Fahrenheit.”
Tory nodded, realizing that of course Reese would have already thought to do that. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Have you identified her?”
“No,” Reese said with a hint of irritation in her voice. “There’s no wallet, no purse, and nothing in the car to indicate who she is. Hopefully, Robert Bridger will be able to tell us.”
“She doesn’t look like a street kid or a prostitute.” Tory lifted one slim hand, staring at the slender fingers curled gently in her palm. “Her nails are clean and manicured. She’s well nourished. Her clothes are expensive but tasteful. My guess is that Robert knows her and didn’t pick her up on the side of the road somewhere.”
“That’s my thought too.” Reese rolled her shoulders. “So far we haven’t found anything useful in the vehicle. If this is an overdose, where are the pills?”
Without thinking, Tory reached out and braced her arm against Reese’s thigh as she pushed herself upright, favoring her weakened leg. She didn’t move away when Reese steadied her with an arm around her waist. Kneeling for extended periods still took a toll on her nerve-damaged calf. “Maybe they took them all?”
“And what, threw the bottles out the window?”
Tory shrugged as they made their way back to the road. “I suppose that’s possible. Perhaps they just grabbed enough for the night and got something stronger than they bargained for.”
“Maybe. But if they didn’t raid the drug cabinet at home, I want to know who supplied them with whatever almost killed them both.”
“I’m sure you’ll find out what happened.” Tory’s tone was far from placating. She spoke with quiet certainty. “Let me make some calls and find out who’s available to do the post. Then we’ll get an ambulance out here to transport her.”
“Thanks. I’m sorry to have to bring you out here for this.”
“Don’t apologize.” Tory lifted a hand and rested her fingers gently against Reese’s cheek. “Try to get home sometime tonight, all right?”
“There’s a fair amount of work to be done out here.” Reese rubbed her face. “And I have to ID this girl. I may need to drive up to the hospital to interview the boy.”
“Don’t do that on no sleep, Reese,” Tory said quietly. “Don’t make me worry all night.”
Reese sighed. “I won’t. But if it gets really late, I might catch an hour or so at the station and then go.”
“I understand. Come home when you can.”
“Tory...I’m sorry about the way I left earlier...”
“It’s all right, darling. You’ve got work to do.” Tory allowed her fingers to trail over Reese’s jaw before drawing away. “We’ll talk soon. I promise. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Reese opened the driver’s door of Tory’s Jeep so her lover could slide in. “Kiss the baby for me.”
*
“Is there anything I can do?” Bri stood by the side of Allie’s desk, her hands in her pockets, her blue eyes dark with worry. Allie was pale and her hands shook as she filled out paperwork. It was three in the morning and they had both been off shift for over three hours, but Allie needed to document the details of finding the dead girl before leaving and Bri had stayed to finish her report on the boy. Now, she lingered out of concern and sympathy for her friend. She wondered how she would have reacted to coming upon a dead teenager in the brush in the middle of the night.
Allie looked up, dark eyes liquid with pain and fatigue. She forced a smile. “
No, I’m okay. Almost done.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah, thanks. You go ahead. It’s late.”
“How about I give you a ride home?”
“I’ve got my car,” Allie said, but her expression belied her efforts to sound composed.
“This whole night has been a bummer,” Bri noted truthfully. “I wouldn’t mind company for a while.”
A smile of thanks flickered on Allie’s face. “Yeah?” At Bri’s solemn nod, she said quickly, “Five minutes.”
Even at the height of the season, the small town was deserted in the middle of the night. The bars closed at one and there was nothing much in the way of entertainment beyond that time. Bri, feeling as if they were the only two people in the world, powered the motorcycle through the twisting, narrow streets with Allie clinging to her back. Somewhere, though, she reminded herself, on the other side of the ocean that she could hear in the background even above the roar of her engine, Caroline was just waking. She missed her so much, especially now, when she hurt inside with feelings she couldn’t put a name to. The warmth of Allie’s body was comforting.
Gunning the engine, she took the bike in a low, sweeping dip around a turn onto the road to Pilgrim’s Heights. Allie tightened her hold, and Bri felt a hand press low against the front of her uniform pants. Surprised, she covered Allie’s fingers with her own before they could move anywhere else. She kept her hand there until she needed both to navigate the sharp turn into Allie’s driveway. She cut the engine and put a leg down on either side of the big bike to steady it. “I’ll swing by tomorrow and take you to the station to get your car.”
“Can you come in for a while?” Allie asked, sliding off to stand by Bri’s side. She rested one hand on Bri’s thigh in a casual gesture, but her voice trembled. “I’m wide awake. I could fix us a drink or something to eat.”
Bri heard the plea beneath the invitation and realized that Allie must be more upset than she wanted to let on. “Sure, for a bit. Thanks.” She kicked down the stand and swung her leg over the wide tank, then followed Allie up the winding stone path to the small bungalow. Once inside, she waited while Allie turned on lights and rummaged in the kitchen.
