by Lyn Gardner
Brodie painstakingly began to peel away the layers of what remained of Kate’s clothing. The suit jacket was first, and moving slower than she had with Kate’s coat, no murmurs of pain were heard. It was all Kate could do to get to her feet while Brodie loosened her skirt and allowed it to fall to the floor, and the ruined stockings were quickly pushed down Kate’s legs before she sunk onto the mattress again. There were scrapes and cuts everywhere, but it wasn’t until Brodie removed Kate’s blouse that she had to fight back the tears. Although some were still hidden by Kate’s bra, a swath of black, blue, and purple bruises crossed Kate’s chest like a beauty contestant’s sash, and another, brutally equal in color and width, ran from hip to hip. “Jesus Christ,” Brodie muttered.
“Is it bad?” Kate said, trying to look down.
Brodie quickly placed her finger under Kate’s chin. “No, it’s just some bruises, Kate. Nothing to worry about.”
“It hurts.”
“I bet it does, darling,” Brodie said, blinking back her emotions as she tenderly removed Kate’s blouse. “I bet it does.”
Brodie reached for the pajama top, and when she looked back at Kate, their eyes locked for a moment. While Kate’s still seemed dull, there was just a hint of acknowledgment.
“Can you help me with this?” Kate said, touching the strap of her bra.
A weak grin appeared on Brodie’s face. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
After gently removing Kate’s bra, Brodie began to redress her in the flannel top. Like a child, Brodie guided her arms through the sleeves and then carefully fastened each button. It seemed every movement made Kate flinch, so when Brodie picked up the matching bottoms and saw Kate cringe, she quickly set them aside. “I don’t think we need those, do you?”
“No…no, we don’t.”
“All right,” Brodie said, bending down to look Kate in the eye. “So, would you like a cup of tea or…or maybe some water?”
“No…no, I just want to sleep.”
“Of course,” Brodie said, and cupping her hand behind Kate’s head, she gently lowered her to the pillow. She drew up the sheet and duvet as she gazed at the battered woman, and unable to stop herself, Brodie leaned down and placed a featherlike kiss on Kate’s forehead. “Get some rest.”
Brodie didn’t wait for an answer, but as she began to creep out of the room, Kate called out.
“Brodie?”
“Yeah?” Brodie said, turning around.
“I’m sorry.”
Brodie rushed back to the bed. “Shhhh. No need to talk about that now.”
“But I…but I want you to know—”
“Kate, hush. Whatever it is, it can wait. The only thing you need to do right now is get some sleep. We’ll have plenty of time to talk when you’re feeling better.”
“But—”
“No buts, Kathryn,” Brodie said, brushing a strand of hair from Kate’s brow. “Sweet dreams, darling.”
Brodie placed another small kiss on Kate’s brow, and this time she reached the dividing panels before Kate called out again.
“Brodie?”
Amused that even in her exhausted state, Kate was still as stubborn as ever, Brodie looked toward the bed. “Yes, dear?”
“I love you.”
It wasn’t what Brodie had expected to hear, and hanging her head, she blinked back the tears. Almost a minute passed before she dared to look up again, and when she did, Kate had fallen asleep. “I love you, too, darling,” Brodie whispered. “I love you, too.”
***
Brodie exited the bedroom and made a beeline for the beer she’d left on the counter. Chugging it down, she glanced over at the man sitting on her sofa that was dangling an empty bottle from his fingertips. “Do you want some more?”
“Yeah, I think I could use another,” Elliott said, getting to his feet.
“That makes two of us,” Brodie said, striding into the kitchen as Elliott followed. Opening the fridge, she pulled out two more bottles and handed one to Elliott.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced,” Elliott said, holding out his hand. “Sergeant Elliott Thackery, at your service.”
As Brodie shook the man’s hand, the connection was made. “Actually, we’ve already met,” Brodie said, motioning toward the lounge. “It was about a year ago. I was a witness on a burglary case.”
“That’s where I’ve seen you,” Elliott sat as they sat down on the sofa. “I knew you looked familiar. I didn’t know you were Kate’s partner though.”
Brodie thought she’d done an excellent job of hiding her feelings, and her face went slack. “Partner? Why would you think I was Kate’s partner?”
“Because it’s what she said.”
“It’s what who said?”
“Kate,” Elliott said, eyeing Brodie. “When I was about to drive her home, she asked that I bring her here instead. I asked who you were, and she said you were her partner. To tell you the truth, I didn’t know Kate was gay, not that it matters, but I was a little surprised that she didn’t call you from the hospital.”
Brodie took a moment to come up with a plausible explanation, and then she realized she didn’t have to. “We had an argument.”
“Oh.”
For a minute, Brodie stared at the bottle in her hand, trying to understand why Kate would have made such a confession. “Elliott,” she said, looking up. “What about her injuries? Can you tell me anything?”
Elliott scratched his head. “Well, I know they poked and prodded her for a couple of hours, and all the tests came back fine. She’s got a pretty bad concussion, but nothing’s broken, and there aren’t any internal injuries.”
“Thank God.”
“Oh, wait. I’ve got something for her,” Elliott said, getting to his feet. Retrieving his sweat jacket, he pulled out a tube of cream, three medicine bottles, and a wad of folded papers, and handed everything to Brodie. “The pills are muscle relaxants, antibiotics, and painkillers. The papers explain what’s to be expected from her concussion, and the cream is for the burns on her face.”
“I was wondering about those.”
“They’re from the airbag,” Elliott said, returning to his place on the sofa.
Brodie quickly scanned the instructions on the containers. “Do you know what happened?” she said, placing the medicine on the end table.
Elliott’s lips thinned as a dark cloud settled on his features. “From what I’ve heard, and…and this needs to stay between you and me until Kate gives her statement, okay?”
“Of course.”
“Well, it seems her partner went through a red light at an intersection. By the time I got there, they had Frank in the ambulance and were trying to cut Kate out of the car…or should I say, what was left of the car.”
“Was it that bad?”
Elliott mulled over the question for a few seconds before pulling his mobile out of his pocket. Tapping on the screen, he handed it to Brodie. “I have no idea how fast Frank was going when he smashed into that building, but honestly, looking at the passenger side of his car, I still can’t believe Kate wasn’t killed.”
The photos on Elliott’s phone were far too real and far too scary, and the blood drained from Brodie’s face as she swiped left again and again and again. Broken glass was everywhere, and the hood of the car was torn and crumpled like a piece of paper as it lay against what was once a windshield. The front wheels were gone, and fluids could be seen puddling under the mangled engine as they seeped from the cracks in the steel. The rear of the car had almost been shorn off, and the muffler lying off to one side was the last clue the pile of twisted wreckage had once been a car.
As Elliott took another swig of his beer, he noticed Brodie’s hands were shaking. “Are you okay?” he said, setting the bottle down.
Brodie shoved the phone in Elliott’s direction before jumping to her feet and running into the kitchen. She barely k
new Elliott Thackery, and she didn’t want to lose it in front of a stranger, but to Brodie’s dismay, Elliott followed her, and his hand was now on her arm.
“I know you don’t know me very well, but I’ve got pretty big shoulders, and I’m not afraid of tears,” Elliott said, his voice growing hushed as he continued. “I care about Kate. She’s my friend, and if she loves you as much as you obviously love her, then offering you my shoulder to cry on seems the least I can do. Don’t you think?”
He was right. Elliott was a stranger, yet his voice was filled with so much compassion, Brodie’s tears began to flow freely. She turned around, and when he opened his arms, she fell into them, burying her head against his shoulder as she sobbed. Racked by her wails, her body shook, and as Brodie’s tears soaked through his shirt, she felt Elliott’s hug grow stronger.
Chapter Thirty-One
Brodie refilled her cup and debated on whether to make another pot of coffee. She had spent the better part of three days hovering over Kate from the chair at the drafting table, intently watching the rise and fall of Kate’s chest beneath the covers. She had made a dozen half-hearted attempts to sleep, but closing her eyes for more than a few minutes proved impossible. Even though coffee had become her beverage of choice since Elliott Thackery left her flat on Friday night, Brodie hadn’t really needed the caffeine to keep her awake. Worry did that just fine. The bruises were horrid, and alone on the bed, Kate appeared so small and so fragile. It was almost too much to bear.
Brodie’s mood lifted when Kate would awaken, the need for the bathroom causing her eyes to open, and with her arm gingerly wrapped around Kate’s waist, they would snail-walk to the toilet and back again. Twice, nausea emptied Kate’s belly, and afterward, Brodie would get Kate to drink some more. An obedient patient, Kate would sip some water and down the medication without saying a word, and after several spoonfuls of warm broth, sleep would take hold again.
By the time the sky turned from black to orange and then to blue on Monday morning, Brodie was running on empty, so tiptoeing from the bedroom, she went in search of coffee and her phone. Her calls were quick and hushed. The first was to Ethan to let him know what had happened and that Brodie would be working from home for the next few days, and the second was to Stevie. Asking him to step in and run things in the office until her return, before Brodie hung up the phone, her schedule for the day was rearranged, and files were uploaded, so she could access them from home.
Brodie took her mug to the lounge, and as she sat on the sofa sipping the steaming Columbian blend, she watched as the sun moved higher in the sky, its brightness slowly creeping over the room like a plague. Mornings had always been her favorite. A time when the world was still half asleep, she could enjoy her first cup of coffee while marveling at yet another beautiful sunrise or cloudy skies filled with nourishment for the earth. Today was different though. Today, Kate was still in her bed, and Brodie was torn between wanting her there and wanting her gone. Her heart rejoiced at having the woman she loved so close, yet her head told Brodie nothing had changed. Once awake and aware, conversations about time and waiting would start again…and Brodie’s heart would break again.
Letting out a long breath, Brodie set her mug aside and resting her head back on the sofa, she closed her eyes. She told herself all she needed was a few minutes of sleep, and then she’d return to the bedroom to watch over Kate, but fatigue can be a greedy bastard…and it was.
***
As Kate fought her way through the medicating cloud that enveloped her, three words repeated in her mind. Going on red. Going on red. Going on red.
They were the last words Kate had heard before she was pulled into a terrifying vortex of tires screeching, horns blasting, and glass shattering, and when she crept toward consciousness amidst the smell of petrol and smoke, they had returned. Like a mantra, they repeated again and again in her head, and each time they did, Kate took another breath until finally, the sound of pounding forced her to open her eyes.
Strangers peered at her through the cobwebbed glass, excitedly thumping on the car and shouting muffled messages through the shattered windows. Emergency crews had been called, they said. She’d be okay, they said. Remain calm, they said.
Kate felt it an odd request, for she was calm. A peacefulness she had never known had wrapped its warmth around her, and she would wait as long as it took. She had time. She had nothing but time. Buckled steel surrounded her, holding her captive and preventing all but the simplest of movements, and while others may have panicked, Kate did not. She didn’t feel in danger. She didn’t feel broken. Kate felt alive. Kate felt very much alive.
She heard the sound of sirens, and moments later, police and medics circled the car. Yelling through the glass, they cautioned her to close her eyes as they broke out what was left of the windows. They reached in, hands of strangers feeling for pulses and groping for injuries while their voices remained composed and reassuring, but their words fell on deaf ears. Kate didn’t need to be convinced she’d be okay. She had far too much to live for to have it any other way.
She hissed as a needle was put into her arm, the medics insisting she needed an IV to help prevent shock, but Kate wasn’t in shock. She was in awe. Her coat had opened on impact, and in the fading light of the afternoon, Kate stared at her green skirt, never noticing until that moment just how green it was. She could see blood on her hand, and it was more vibrant than any red she could remember, and the medic attending to her was wearing cologne that reminded her of a winter’s day. It was crisp. Everything was so crisp.
A foam collar was placed around her neck. Kate didn’t like it, her movement stilted even more by something they said was precautionary, but she didn’t complain. Frank was doing enough of that for both of them, and then some. He was dropping numerous F-bombs as he groused and grumbled about the medic’s inabilities and inadequacies, griping about the pain they were causing or the smell of their breath while they tried to do their job. Kate was impressed. Their voices held no hint of annoyance or sliver of frustration, their tones remaining forever compassionate and caring while they tended to someone callous and stupid.
Kate waited patiently as they eventually pulled Frank from the car, and then it was her turn. Covering her with protective blankets, they sawed through the twisted wreckage that had once been a car, every so often stopping to lift the cover and check on their patient, but they didn’t have to. As odd as it was, it was giving Kate time to think, time to realize that life was too short to live it for others. And when they finally were able to remove Kate from the car and put her into an ambulance, there was only one thing on her mind. Brodie Shaw.
Kate’s eyes popped open. Thin streams of light found their way into the room through tiny gaps in the drapes, and as Kate ran her tongue over her lips to moisten them, a ghost of a smile appeared. Thank God it wasn’t a dream.
A few minutes passed before Kate dared to move. She knew what had happened, and she knew where she was. She also knew this was going to hurt. Kate took a slow, deep breath and ribs, bruised but not broken, announced themselves in an instant. She held her breath as she sat up, biting her lip to prevent a whimper from escaping as small bolts of pain shot through her body like fireworks exploding across a darkened sky. Taking a moment to catch her breath, Kate turned on the light on the nightstand and looking down at her legs hanging over the edge of the bed, she paled. Brush burns and scratches covered her knees and calves, and there was a bandage wrapped around her thigh. “Jesus,” she said under her breath.
Although curious as to what was under the gauze, Kate’s priority was the bathroom. As she got to her feet, she noticed a pillow on the drafting table, and she ran her hand across the indentation in the middle. Someone had rested their head there, and while the cotton was cool, the depression had remained.
***
Brodie awoke slowly, and opening her eyes, she lifted her head off the back of the sofa, only to let out a grunt at the stiffness that had invaded her neck. She ro
lled her head from side to side and worked out the kinks, and righting herself, Brodie picked up her phone and glanced at the time. She blinked and blinked again, trying to discredit the numbers displayed, and then she jumped to her feet. “Shit.”
Brodie hurried to the bedroom, and then as quiet as the proverbial mouse, she tiptoed past the panels only to stutter to a stop when the bed came into view. It was empty, and panic punched Brodie in the stomach like a balled-up fist. She sucked in all the air in the room in one breath, and a split-second later, it exited her lungs much slower than it went in. She could hear water running, and puffing out another breath, Brodie made her way into the bathroom.
Wearing a rumpled pajama top that ended mid-thigh, Kate had her hands resting on the top of the vanity, and her body language screamed of pain and stiffness. She was hardly moving, just staring at her reflection in the mirror, and even though her hair was a mess and her legs were covered in scrapes and bruises, Brodie’s heart did a flip. Kate was still the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.
***
Kate stood in front of the double sinks and pulled her toothbrush from the holder, warmed by the fact Brodie hadn’t thrown it away. She was starting to feel a bit more human, and once her mouth was minty and her hair was brushed, Kate stared at her reflection in the mirror for a moment before she found the courage to lift the hem of her flannel top. “Shit,” she said as the bluish-black bruise across her hips came into view, and the further Kate raised the top, the more she thanked God for sparing her life. Having seen enough, Kate let the flannel fall back into place, and resting her hands on the vanity top, she waited for a few seconds to gather the strength she’d need to make it back to the bedroom.
“What are you doing out of bed?”
Kate’s lips took on a loving curve, the slightest hint of rose coloring her cheeks as she looked over at Brodie. “I had to pee.”
