Lightning Chasers

by Cass Sellars

  Closed inside, the cold blast from the air conditioning blew into Parker’s face. The tight skin under drying tears froze instantly and she put both palms against the vents to stanch the flow.

  Cash spun the fan control down to low in response.

  “Thanks,” she managed. She took in the console’s extra devices and controls before she stared away blankly.

  “The EMTs told me that she has some concerning injuries, but I think she’ll be okay,” he said.

  His tires spun road debris into the air as he flipped on lights and sirens for the short drive to General. “Running Code 3 with a civilian passenger outside the city limits of Silver Lake is substantially thwarting regulations. And I don’t give a damn.”

  Parker realized he wasn’t really talking to her anymore. She felt numb as the jerk of the speeding car pushed her against the door. She checked the seat belt latch and tried to imagine a moment without Sydney, let alone a lifetime.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Parker paced the hallway of the surgery floor and ignored the now lukewarm coffee Darcy had brought her ages ago. She counted the steps between the doors marked Authorized Personnel Only and the elevator that had deposited her into the hell of waiting for someone to walk out and tell her this was all a horrendous mistake.

  On the short walk to the elevator she counted only the black tiles; on the way back she counted the white ones. She half expected the compulsive activity to make the time move faster, but instead it only made the blurry squares shift in her swollen eyes. She made painful divots in her fingers as she pressed the edges of her necklace charm into them. It suddenly dawned on her that it could be all she had left of her improbable lover.

  In the waiting room, Taylor held Darcy awkwardly on the patterned love seat. Parker watched Major Cash step away and take numerous phone calls. She thought he heard him say, “Thank you, Judge,” once, but she couldn’t be sure. She sifted through the memories of the indestructible Sydney Hyatt running an obstacle course outside her gym or sweating into the heavy bag that hung in the home they now shared officially. She thought of her leading her up the stairs of the restaurant on their first date and making love with her under the hot spray of the shower. She thought if she replayed every indelible minute of their relatively short time together she would find Sydney at the end, healthy and whole again.

  At one a.m., a weary looking man in his fifties carried a chart into the waiting room. “Victoria Hyatt?” Parker scrambled to his side as Darcy and Taylor assembled just behind her. She stared anxiously at the official man wearing a caduceus patch on the sleeve of his dingy white coat. Parker felt her focus sharpen as she waited for him to speak. She hugged her arms across her body as if to armor herself against the unthinkable.

  “Are you family, Miss…?”

  “Duncan. Yes, I am. And I have medical power of attorney.” She held up her phone displaying the PDF document. Sydney had insisted on drawing up the documents for both of them after the Becky incident. She was impossibly thankful to have them now.

  He nodded and continued explaining the extent of Sydney’s injuries. “We removed her appendix and managed her other wounds successfully. We should know if there are any complications in the next few hours.”

  “When can I see her?” Parker asked quickly while her mind processed the information.

  “She’s asleep and likely will be for a number of hours. You should go home and get some rest. She wouldn’t know you were even here.”

  “Yes, she would.” Parker’s defiant tone was quick and bordered on angry.

  He sighed and stared down at her. “She’s being moved to a room now. Give the unit staff some time to get her situated and I’ll have someone let you know.”

  “Thank you,” Taylor said to the doctor, and Parker heard her breathe a sigh of cautious relief.

  “Let me get you something to eat, Parker,” Darcy offered. “How about some breakfast?”

  Parker shook her head. “Not hungry.”

  “Please. Something. We’ll bring toast and juice at least.”

  Parker just nodded as they headed for the elevator and she resumed counting tiles.

  * * *

  Jen found Mack staring at her when Jen lifted her head from the bed near her wife’s leg. Mack’s right arm lay helplessly at her side in a heavy cast covered in blue gauze. Her eyes were black and a white bandage barely covered the thick line of stiches Jen knew ran across her temple. Her black hair was still matted from the injury and the blood.

  “Hi, beautiful.” Mack’s voice was weak.

  Jen tried to smile through a renewed flood of tears. “I love you. You’re going to be okay.” The words rushed out as she squeezed Mack’s left hand.

  “Of course I am. I have a family to take care of.”

  “Yes, you do.” Jenny spoke through a new gale of emotion. “Mack, I was so scared.”

  “I’m sorry, Jen. Please don’t cry.” Mack’s fingers barely reached Jen’s cheek.

  “I can’t help it.” She took a deep steadying breath.

  “How’s Syd?”

  “I…I don’t know. God, Mack, I haven’t even checked on them. Life Flight came for her.”

  “It’s okay, sometimes they just call it out as a precaution. Where is Parker, sweetheart?” Mack was stroking her wrist.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. I stayed with you, I didn’t even check on them, Mack,” she said guiltily.

  “I’m okay, go find her. I’ll be right here.” Jenny leaned over to kiss Mack softly over and over before her wife pushed her toward the curtain around the emergency department bed.

  * * *

  Parker heard footsteps before she forced her eyes open and pushed up from the thin hospital pillow she had wedged against a corner on the floor. Jenny kneeled in front of her and pulled her into an agonizing hug. “Where is she?” The words rushed out as if Jenny was terrified of the answer.

  “They just brought her out of surgery. Appendix and some internal bleeding, ribs and head injury.” Her staccato sentences were all she could manage. “Waiting to make sure no more bleeding inside. She’s going to be in a room and they said I could see her then.” She paused to gather her thoughts. “Where is Mack?”

  “She’s still in the emergency room. Stitches, broken arm, black eyes. She asked about Syd so I had to come find you. She’s going to be okay.” Parker watched the relief spread over her face as she delivered the news. “Will you call me if anything happens, as soon as you know where Syd will be?”

  Parker nodded. “Taylor and Darcy have been here. I’m okay, Jen. Go be with Mack.”

  She fervently wished she could go to Sydney, just to touch her or kiss her like Jenny could with Mack. She felt irrationally resentful but pushed the mood away quickly.

  * * *

  Chief Williams carried the last box to his new office and began weeding through the sad collection of dusty frames. The nicest one was of his nephew who lived in California with his new wife. They had visited once, but preferred a West Coast life to the small Virginia city he now commanded. He would text him to announce his promotion. He’d always hoped his nephew viewed him as a father figure since his brother’s death. With his ex-wife long since remarried and his parents dead for nearly thirty years, somehow every victory felt a bit hollow with no one to share it with him. Pamela Hyatt had congratulated him when he showed up at her door, but he was well aware that her elation was self-serving.

  He hung his certificate of promotion on an old nail Provost had left protruding from the narrow wall next to the window. A picture of the former chief presenting him with his major’s credentials was matted just below the certificate in the same frame. He idly wished that the picture didn’t speak volumes about the hard turns his career had taken, both because and in spite of the wretched woman.

  Williams pushed Mack Foster’s badge and gun into a drawer. He knew he would eventually turn them in to property for reissue, but for now they could stay in there. He opened the bott
om file drawer and dropped a fat, unaddressed catalog envelope inside. He was sure he wouldn’t need the insurance policy, but it would be a while before he would destroy the tapes of the devious Jayne Provost. He turned the brass key that stuck out of the lock and attached it to his key ring.

  He had expected more of a fanfare when he took the chief’s office. He expected visitors or congratulations from the city manager. It was still early; perhaps they would come in later or on Monday. A stack of reports and thick file listing open case statistics sat in the tray at the corner of his desk. He felt a renewed happiness as he signed on the line designated for the Chief of Police.

  The jarring ring interrupted his train of thought and he groused into the phone, “What?”

  He listened carefully before replying. “As far as I’m concerned, we’re done here. Do not call me again.” He wondered if the price he had paid was worth the return he had not yet been able to fully enjoy.

  * * *

  Vice President and Chief Security Officer Jayne Provost set the farewell card on the hutch behind her desk. She wrestled several boxes off the dolly and wondered whose job it should have been to move her into her official space. She found a list of Monday meetings her administrative assistant must have left for her. She glanced over the page and sighed, eager to discover the lay of her new land.

  She spun in her chair and watched a huge boat sail past her window. Her new car was being delivered in an hour, and she imagined how impressed Luke would be as they cruised through DC. She considered how much she would love passing her old District haunts in the flashy gold Jaguar. She had briefly deliberated on ordering CTI CSO for a personalized tag. The dirty brass in DC could keep their badges; she had power and privilege no one ever bestowed upon public sector grunts, regardless of rank. She itched to flaunt her new power, with a lover half her age who was always willing to satisfy her needs.

  She had managed to enlist some employees walking down the hall to help her move the desk so she could appreciate her lake view while keeping an eye on the door. They seemed perplexed when she pressed them into service so late in the day. Cops, even ex-cops, never sat with their backs to the door and she would never sit with her back to the view…a glistening monument to her achievements.

  She wondered where the other executives sat. She wondered if their offices were bigger than hers. She wondered if she should call and check on the officer involved in a crash.

  She felt a little sorry about it. She reasoned that one less dyke detective wouldn’t hurt the SLPD. She stood to wander around the quiet offices and tested how many places the CSO’s badge allowed her access. She discovered only one door that didn’t budge when she presented her credentials; she planned to discover what was in there later.

  Technically, she wasn’t supposed to have her welcome meeting until Monday morning, but she was eager to get her office organized, so they’d created her badge early at her request. The security administrator had looked at her strangely when she’d reiterated the demand before she was even officially an employee. She might have to replace the impudent subordinate.

  Bryce Downing nearly ran her down as he turned the corner to the hallway in front of her. “Perfect timing, I was just coming to say welcome.”

  “Well, thank you. I look forward to getting to know you better, Bryce.” She didn’t mean it, but he might prove useful considering she was responsible for his freedom.

  “Would you like a tour?” He waited for her to follow. When she did, he continued. “I wanted to discuss some things with you as well.” He looked conspiratorial as he waited for permission to speak about confidential matters.

  Jayne smiled stiffly and spoke through her teeth. “Not here and not now. I will call you when I wish to discuss matters.” He nodded soberly as he led her through large fire doors and into the dim light of the warehouse.

  * * *

  Taylor Westin swiped into her small office and sat heavily in her chair. She had hated to leave Darcy and Parker but she wanted to make sure she captured the latest figures. She had grabbed the night’s unofficial tally sheets hanging from the clipboard outside her office. She checked them over, then added her summary sheet to the top. Bryce Downing would pick them up and process the numbers for the executives’ weekly meetings and for accounting. Any abnormalities would be noted by the CSO and investigated if appropriate. Once she printed off the report she made another copy for herself, carefully folding the sheets and sliding the wad into her computer bag.

  She then made copies of all the count sheets the clerks had turned in, placing an X on the corners of the sheets that contained the SKU from the pallet ticket Mack had shown her. She folded those pages into her bag as well.

  She was looking intently at the waterfall of numbers across her computer screen when Bryce passed her office window with a woman she now recognized as Jayne Provost. He snatched the reports from the clipboard without looking at them, turning back out of the warehouse without so much as a cursory glance in her direction. She idly wondered how the warehouse manager didn’t have to work in the warehouse. His father had scored him a cushy office on the first floor so he never had to visit the dingy space except to collect the reports. She was actually surprised he didn’t just have someone bring them to him.

  She drew another file from her drawer that contained manual calculations she had been collecting since she took over the job. Her accounting degree was finally paying off. She could clearly demonstrate the net loss of product now hovering over the three million mark. Taylor tried not to picture the feckless Bryce shooting a police officer, or anyone for that matter, but like her new friends, she couldn’t imagine another explanation.

  Her phone vibrated across the desk as Darcy’s smiling face stared up at her.

  Syd’s in room 347—third floor. Thank you for staying with me.

  She texted back, Of course. I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

  She hadn’t meant to be so transparent. However, in the wake of murder, embezzlement, and general dearth of ethical behavior, playing hard to get seemed petty. She wanted to be professionally successful, she mused, but regardless of superficial success, she ultimately wanted to find another person who wished to come home to the same place, love the same way, and share the same goals. If Darcy could be that person, she certainly didn’t want to risk it by being coy.

  Taylor ticked off Darcy’s attributes in the plus column: blond, smart, sexually compatible, fun, and most of all she didn’t need someone to take care of her. In fact, Taylor laughingly imagined that she might have to fight Darcy for the right to make her soup if she had a cold. Definitely not a shrinking violet or any sort of wilting flower for that matter. Taylor clicked through her daily duties and imagined not seeing Darcy again. She didn’t like that thought.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Parker tried not to focus on the blossoming bruises that cascaded angrily over Sydney’s cheekbones and followed down her long neck. Large gauze pads prevented her from seeing the multitude of black stiches beneath. The nurse told her that sixteen stiches were placed inside and over thirty externally. A large swath of tape and bandages covered Syd’s stomach and ribs.

  Parker held Sydney’s hand to her mouth and she kissed her skin. She carefully stroked a warm washcloth over her fingers where dried blood remained. Everywhere she could touch Syd without hurting her, she did, with her fingers and then her lips. She ignored the incessant beeping of the machines and spoke quietly to her. The nurse said that it was just a matter of time before she woke up; her body was just busy healing itself. The nurse’s smile had been kind. Parker rested her face near Syd’s left ear.

  “Love, I’m here. It’s Parker, sweetheart. I need you to get well, Sydney. I love you.”

  Parker caressed Sydney’s cheek and watched as her body twitched against an invisible force, as if she was dreaming. When she quieted again, Parker slid the chair next to the bed and placed her face on Sydney’s palm. The exhaustion of the past hours consumed her. She heard Tay
lor’s voice just outside the room before she closed her eyes.

  * * *

  Darcy was dozing against the doorframe of room 347. Taylor sat down next to her and gently folded Darcy against her shoulder. “Why are you out here?”

  A sleepy Darcy settled into Taylor and shrugged. “Didn’t feel right. Not really my place in there anymore.”

  “Anymore?” Taylor arched an eyebrow at the new snippet of Darcy’s life.

  Darcy looked up at Taylor without moving from the comfortable place in her arms. “Syd and I were in a relationship a long time ago. I haven’t been exactly mature about things recently, so I thought I would just be here if Parker needed anything, and not intrude.”

  “You’re a very kind person, Darcy Dean.” Taylor leaned down to kiss her briefly. “What do you need?”

  Darcy chuckled and plucked her T-shirt away from her body. “Probably a decontamination chamber, I feel disgusting.”

  “Well, luckily, you look beautiful,” Taylor lied as she stroked Darcy’s haphazard blond hair which had seemed to develop corners and right angles over the past hours. “Why don’t you go home and take a shower while I wait here. You won’t be long, and I’ll call you if anything happens.” Taylor dangled the keys to the Highlander until Darcy closed her fingers around them gratefully.

  Taylor stood, leaning against the wall, and pulled Darcy to her feet.

  Darcy studied Taylor warily. “Tay, did you ever think that a week ago you had a perfectly normal life, and then Hurricane Darcy dragged you into this craziness?” She rubbed her stinging eyes with the heels of both her hands trying to refocus through the grit beneath her lids on the woman beside her.

  “I’m not sure that anyone knows what normal looks like, certainly not me. And since you were missing from it, my life certainly wasn’t perfect.” Taylor slid her hands under Darcy’s hair and dusted a kiss over her lips.