by D. M. Webb
The current grabbed at his body, tugging it downward. He raised his chin, gasping at the air. He wasn’t going to make it. The water was too fast.
The muddy wall greeted them again. He flattened against it, pinning Franklin between him and it. “Now, we have to help these guys a little. Start climbing. Dig your fingers into the mud.”
David had to give it the boy. Fatigue leeched into his own body. No telling how weary the teen was, but he obeyed. Foot by foot, the guys up top pulled them up. David dug his feet and hands into the wall.
Mud coated their bodies. Run-off from the ledge coursed over David’s face and into his eyes.
Suddenly, grass tickled his palm. Weeds cut into his skin.
Hands grabbed at the pair, pulling them away from the edge. David fell back onto the ground. Rain bombarded his face.
He coughed, and his chest rattled. Great. He rolled over and staggered to his feet.
Paramedics led Franklin to the ambulance. Officers circled around him, including Jeremy. David fumbled with the carabiners.
Toby reached forward and helped him. “That was risky, man. That rope wasn’t rated for that much weight.”
David shook his head. “Had to be done. Franklin wouldn’t have lasted much longer.” He shrugged out of the harness. It hit the ground with a thunk. Chuck collected the rope and equipment.
“You okay, man?”
“No.” He leaned heavily against Toby’s shoulder. “That was a river from hell. I didn’t think it was going to let me go.”
Toby slapped his back. “Come on. Let’s get you back to the station. You made it free and clear.”
He forced his weak legs to follow Toby through the tall grass. Lights from the vehicles blinded him. He held a hand to his face, blocking the bright lights. Voices shouted. Many giving directions, some. . . he paused. He blinked against the harsh glare.
A news van from Memphis parked near the police tape. They spouted off about a daring rescue of a drug ring informant. The tall, shapely news anchor listed off the names of the officers involved. She didn’t bother to tamp down her excitement. David scowled at the mention of Jeremy’s name.
He turned away from the spectacle. Newscasters. They rated up there with wedgies and moldy cheese.
Another cough racked his body. Not good. He reached Engine One and propped his hand against the grill as the cough tortured him. His body doubled over from the hacking. He waved off Toby’s concerned expression as he and Chuck carried the equipment back to its home in the side panel.
He spat phlegm onto the ground as the cough eased.
A tap against his shoulder brought his attention around.
Jeremy glared at him. “That was stupid. You could have been killed. First rule for us: personal safety first.”
David narrowed his eyes. Leave it to his brother to fuss about obeying rules. “I was fine. Attached another rope.”
“And it could have snapped. Stupid!” Jeremy growled and looked away. His mouth curled up into a snarl as he turned back around. “You don’t think, do you? You just do it.”
Another cough threatened to consume him as anger boiled, matching the heat that flooded his face. “You would have lost your precious informant if I hadn’t done that.”
“We had another spot to try.” Jeremy ran his hands over his face. “What if you had missed? What if the rope snapped?”
“It didn’t.” David shoved away from the grill. Jeremy needed to leave well enough alone. All he wanted at this moment was to finish his shift, go home, get a drink, and get some sleep. “Leave it alone, Jeremy. The boy’s safe, y’all get the info he has, and all is well with the world.”
The engine rumbled. Toby sat in the cab, waiting. David turned away from his brother.
A hand on his arm pushed him back around. “You don’t care about rules, do you? You never do. Don’t you realize that you could have been killed?”
David stared hard at his brother. Yeah, he could have died. Death came suddenly. What difference did it make if it came during a rescue or in his sleep? “So? Then you wouldn’t have to be bothered with me anymore.”
Jeremy pressed his lips into a thin line. “That’s not it, David. You have to stop taking so many risks.”
“Like you would know? You never risked anything in your life. I save people. Whether I know them or not.” David pointed at him. His body trembled. “You? If it meant breaking protocol, then you would just watch them die.”
Jeremy’s hand slammed against his chest, driving another lung rattling cough from him. The grill pressed against his sore back as Jeremy held him against the truck.
Spittle flew from Jeremy’s lips and hit him on the cheek. “I have never left a person to die! Never!”
David broke Jeremy’s hold. His fist connected with his brother’s lips. Jeremy staggered back. His gloved hand touched his mouth. Blood glinted darkly in the headlights.
“Tell that to Rebecca.” For once, David loved the rain. It hid the tears.
He turned his back on his brother and climbed into the truck. The door slam echoed in the quiet cab. Ignoring Toby and Chuck’s wide-eyed stares, he picked up the mike. “Dispatch, show Engine One returning to station.”
“Copy, Engine One. Time oh-two-hundred.”
He leaned his head against the seat. It didn’t feel like two in the morning. “Drive, Toby. And shut up.”
His heart thudded heavily against his ribs. His face and eyes burned. He turned up the heat in the cab as he shivered uncontrollably. Man, he needed a drink right now.
Chapter 11
THE LIGHT BLUE PAINTED ceiling stared back at Jeremy as he lay in the bed, hands behind his head. He’d donate his left kidney for a chance to sleep a little longer, but his body refused to allow him that luxury.
The red numbers on the clock glowed twelve fifteen.
It was time that he made an effort to rouse himself from the soft, cool sheets. Thanks to his wonderful wife, who allowed him to sleep in after the all-nighter he pulled, he had enough rest to be able to deal with the day. He hoped.
He rolled over and smoothed his hand across Sarah’s empty side of the bed. Her flowery scent drifted up to him. Man, he needed her by his side right now. Buck up. She’d be home soon from church.
He kicked at the covers, sending them sailing to the foot of the bed. His skin crawled with a gritty film. He needed a hot shower. Or maybe a cold shower. At this moment, he would take whatever was dealt.
He stumbled into the bathroom, made use of its amenities, and then reached in to turn on the shower. Clean water burst from the shower head. He’d have to apologize to Sarah for not taking a shower when he came in early this morning. Weariness had eaten at him, and the call of the bed had been too strong to ignore. He remembered only shedding his clothes and falling between the sheets.
Steam rose from the water. He undressed and stepped inside.
“Now, this is heaven.” His voice echoed in the blue tiled stall.
He pressed his hands against the tiles and leaned in until his forehead touched. Cool ceramic contrasted with the hot steam. Sore muscles turned to butter as the hot water streamed across his shoulders and back. He raised his face, allowing the water to wash away the grimy feel. His bottom lip throbbed with a sharp pain.
He brought a finger to the sore. Blood washed away in the stream and down the drain. Crazy brother. He should have landed his own punch on the hotheaded ingrate.
The bar of soap squished as he pried it from the clam shell dish. Foam and bubbles spilled over his fingers as he ground it between his hands. He scrubbed at his body, willing his anger at David to subside.
No such luck.
The bar of soap clattered to the shower’s floor. He stood under the stream until the water ran cold. Even that didn’t cool his fury.
He slid back the door. Small hands with slender fingers greeted him, holding out a towel. “Hey, baby.”
Sarah ran a hand over his back as he wrapped the towel around his waist.
“How’s the lip?”
Jeremy faced her. Her dark hair against her head highlighted her gorgeous eyes. He cupped her face in his hands. She melted against him as he placed a light kiss on her supple lips.
He broke away and tried not to smile at her. “Hurts a little.”
She reached up and traced it with her forefinger. “I’ve got some balm for it. Going to tell me how you got it?”
Her floral perfume clung to the steam in the bathroom. He breathed deep, pressing his forehead against hers. “Just an on-the-job accident.”
“Uh huh.” With feathery touches, her fingers traced the water trails over his chest. “You know the grapevine is fruitful. Want to rethink that statement, Officer Boyette?”
He groaned and captured her hands. “Trust me, hazards of my job. It was just a scuffle.”
Sarah snorted and pulled her hands out of his grip. Her fingers traced an old scar across his right side. “This came from a scuffle.”
She followed the water trail down his stomach with a fingernail. He closed his eyes. His lovely vixen. Her body rose to tiptoes, pressing herself to him.
She purred against his ear. “Just a scuffle, my dear?”
Jeremy buried his hand in her hair. Sarah’s eyes darkened as she peered up at him. “A scuffle with David. But let’s not talk about him and his many problems. Right now, I just want my horrible night erased from my head.”
“I can do that for you.” She brought his face down to hers.
Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer. Sarah could always make him forget his troubles.
: : : : :
“So, do you want leftover pot roast or a hoagie sandwich? I can shred the roast if you want a roast beef sandwich.” Sarah brought her head out of the refrigerator and looked back at him. “Well?”
Jeremy lowered his newspaper. “Whichever. I really don’t care.”
“Then hoagie it is. I don’t feel like roast beef today.” She pulled a handful of the sandwich makings from the shelf and dumped them on the table where he sat. “The bread’s behind you. Start decorating it while I get the meat.”
He reached behind him and snagged the bag. She placed a handful of meat packages on the wooden surface and pulled up a chair. Together, they smeared condiments and piled meat on the hoagie rolls.
Dennis bounded into the kitchen. “Mom, is it okay if I head to the park?”
Jeremy looked up. Why did they always ask her? Suddenly, he had become the invisible parent. “No. It’s Sunday. No one goes anywhere today, other than church.”
Dennis rolled his eyes at him. “Except for you.”
“Watch it, bub.” Jeremy held up the butter knife. “I didn’t get in until six. You get a job like mine and see how it feels to you. Until then, you shut it.”
“Yeah, well, because of you, I had to miss out on a date last night.”
Sarah lowered her spoon with a thwack against the table. “Dennis! You watch your tone.”
Jeremy let his son simmer a little in Sarah’s glare. Was this his penitence for the problems he gave his parents?
Jeremy cocked an eyebrow at Dennis. “I thought it was just movies?”
Yeah, let the boy weasel out of that lie.
Dennis bit at his bottom lip. “It was. I mean, it was going to be, but Sasha was there. I was going to ask her out for a milkshake afterward.” He turned to leave.
“Don’t leave. Sit.” Jeremy pushed the chair across from him with his foot. “I want to talk to you.”
With a harrumph, Dennis plopped down, arms crossed. Jeremy frowned. Briefly, with his arms crossed, Dennis resembled David. Defiance must run in his family.
“This girl, Sasha. She’s been in reform school, a step away from jail. Do you honestly believe that she would be a good girlfriend?” Jeremy placed a finished sandwich on the platter in front of him and pushed it toward his son. “Honestly, now, Dennis. The Bible teaches us about being unevenly yoked. Is Sasha a believer?”
Dennis shrugged. “But she might become one if she’s around me.”
Sarah opened her mouth, but Jeremy waved her into silence. He leaned toward Dennis. “Whether she’s a believer or not, with you being one and the lifestyle she leads, it will lead you into a world that you are not ready for. Trust me, son, there are things that you do not need to be involved in or know about at your age.”
Dennis’s voice pleaded. “But, Dad, she’s great. Beautiful. Funny.”
“Then invite her along for a youth outing.” He turned to Sarah. “When’s the next one?”
“End of May. Out-of-school celebration.” She spread some mustard on the bread. “Then Maggie is hosting an all-night game night at the parsonage in June.”
“See?” Jeremy shrugged. “There’s plenty to do with her.”
“Yeah, but–”
“But you won’t be alone with her. Which is exactly my point.” Jeremy pointed the knife in Dennis’s direction as his son tried to leave the table. “Sit.”
A growl came from Dennis’s area.
“And eat.”
Sarah placed another sandwich on a platter and called out. “Sophie!”
Jeremy shook his head at the footsteps that thudded down the hallway. Sophie hurled herself into the kitchen, raven hair flying out behind her. She skidded into the chair.
“Dad! Guess what I just heard.”
“That John Masterson finally looked at you?”
She rolled her eyes. Did his kids ever do anything else besides eye rolling?
“No. I gave up on him. Jackson Taylor is much more interesting, and he doesn’t burp at the table.”
Dennis let out a loud belch and smirked at Sophie.
“Dennis.” Sarah cut him with a piercing stare.
Jeremy smiled as he passed Sophie the chip bag. “So, what was so interesting that doesn’t involve boys?”
“Men.”
His sandwich plopped down onto his platter, the tomato sliding out. “Come again?” He tucked the red slices back in the folds.
Sarah passed him a napkin. “She’s yanking your chain, baby.”
“Actually, Mom, I just heard something about Daddy.” Sophie stuffed a chip in her mouth. “I heard it from Mary, who heard it from her dad when he was talking to Mr. Tennyson, and she told me.”
Jeremy cocked his brow at her. What would Sam Tennyson say that would be so interesting to his daughter? “And? So Sam told Mark, and Mary overheard what?”
Sophie grinned, her swinging feet bouncing her petite frame up and down in the chair. “She said that Uncle David gave you a busted lip last night. What did you do, Daddy? Why did he get mad at you?”
Jeremy’s hand stilled over his pile of chips. A hush fell around the table. Dennis glared at Sophie and then turned to him. An expectant expression plastered itself across his son’s face. Sarah placed her hand on his.
Sometimes, he really hated living in a small town. “Nothing that should concern you two. And Sophie, no more gossip.”
Dennis scowled and pushed at his plate. “But, Dad, you always say that there should be no secrets in this house. You want me to be honest with what I do, but how can I when you show us otherwise?”
Sarah pushed Dennis’s plate back in front of him. “Finish your lunch. And there are some things that you shouldn’t worry about. Things are different when you’re an adult.”
Sophie fiddled with her lettuce. “Should we worry, then? Is something wrong with Uncle David, Dad?”
Jeremy sighed. He pushed away from the table, crossed the kitchen, and opened a cabinet. Three sets of eyes watched him as he poured his tea. A pop-hiss came from the table as the kids opened their soft drinks.
Their eyes followed his every move, waiting for him to answer. How could he explain this? Even he didn’t know what his brother’s problem was.
Sarah cleared her throat. She twirled a piece of bread in a dot of mustard on her plate. “Your Uncle David is. . . well, he’s having a hard time readjusting to being back home.”
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Dennis nodded. “Because of what happened to Rebecca?”
“Yeah.” Jeremy sank into his chair in relief. Sarah’s explanation would work. Maybe that really was the problem with his brother.
“So, we pray for him?” Sophie peered at him through her lashes. “I can still see him, can’t I?”
“Of course, you can. On both accounts.” Jeremy picked up his sandwich. “We all need to pray for him.”
“And hope he doesn’t bust your lip again?” Dennis gave him an innocent smile and bit into his sandwich.
Jeremy narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, that too.”
He sat back, listening to Sarah and Sophie chat about their upcoming shopping date with Maggie. His mind blocked their chatter about clothes and resumed his worry about his brother. Sarah had to be right. David needed to readjust. But the thought didn’t sit right with him. There had to be more.
: : : : :
David rolled over and glanced at his clock. Five o’clock. He slept the day away. Again. He pushed back the covers and stood. An hour until his date with Maggie. He needed to call her.
His hand lashed out and gripped the wall. An angry mob clashed behind his eyes. He groaned and staggered to the kitchen. The light from the refrigerator assaulted him. He squinted and pulled out a bottle of water. Oh, man, he should’ve stayed in the bed.
He shut the door with a barefoot kick and then rummaged in his cabinet. Didn’t he put it there this morning? Great. He slammed the door. It rattled in protest. He turned and spotted the small bottles on the corner of the counter. Oh, there they were. Sneaky meds.
He popped off their tops and downed the doses. One for pain. Yeah, he had that. One for congestion. A definite on that. One for infection. Well, he didn’t really need it, but he’d take it, anyway. A rumble ripped through his chest as he held back a cough. The doctor this morning assured him the meds would work within a few days. Yeah, right.
