Heartbreak at Roosevelt Ranch

by Elise Faber

  It rang a few times before a groggy voice answered. “Hello?”

  “Hi, uh, Dr. Johnson. This is Melissa, Rocco’s—” My voice caught.

  I heard rustling on the other end. “What’s wrong?”

  “Someone broke in, Rocco tried to protect me. He’s hurt really bad, can I bring him in?”

  “Are you safe?” His voice was fierce.

  “The police are here,” I said. “I’m good.”

  “I’m coming over.”

  “I can—”

  “I’ll see you in five minutes.”

  “Okay, the address is—”

  “This is Darlington, Melissa. I know where you live.” And he hung up.

  When I set the phone down, Hayden glanced up from his conversation with McMann and came over. “There’s a delay in the ambulance. They’re stuck on a couple of calls in Campbell. Apparently tonight’s a busy night. We’ll drive you to the hospital.”

  “Dr. Johnson will be here in a few minutes. Rocco—”

  He nodded. “We’ll wait, and in the meantime, Davis and Cranz are going to go grab some plywood to board up your front door. They broke the sidelight to get in.”

  Ah. That’s why there had been so much glass. Our front door only had one small window, but next to it was one of those long, skinny panes of glass. It had always been convenient to see who was at the door—read, avoid solicitors. Although, I supposed the pane also made it easy to see inside . . . and created a boatload of glass shards when someone decided to break in.

  “I need to sweep up—”

  “McMann is on it.”

  My bottom lip trembled, and so I bit it. Hard.

  “None of that,” Hayden said, but his voice was gentle. “You’re one of us. We look after our own.”

  23

  I winced as the nurse sprayed something cold and antiseptic into the cuts on my feet.

  “Sorry,” she said.

  “I’m fine.” But tears burned, and I bit my bottom lip to keep from crying out.

  “Just a bit more glass,” the nurse said and probed, probably gently but it felt like the fires of hell. “Almost done.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “You know that my sister’s daughter is in Allie’s class. Ashley is my niece.” She stopped, glanced up at me.

  “Ashley’s great,” I felt obliged to reply. She was great, but while the nurse was clearly trying to distract me, I couldn’t help but think this was really not the time for small talk.

  She glanced back down. “My name is Haley, and my sister is—”

  “Maggie,” I said.

  “Right.” Another squirt of burning cold. How a liquid could set my skin on fire with sensation and yet still feel icy was beyond me. “She gave me a piece of that banana cream pie you made when she had Luke, and it was seriously the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

  Food.

  Now that was something that could take my mind off things.

  “I love that recipe.” I sighed. “The whipped cream. The fresh banana flavor.” Haley switched feet, but I barely noticed. “There’s nothing medicinal about it. And it’s so rich. Perfect for a mom who needs a little indulgence after a baby.”

  “Plus, she said it freezes well,” Haley added.

  “It does,” I said, excited now. “And you can add chocolate chips and a ganache and it’s extra decadent.”

  “What else do you like to cook?”

  I laughed. “What don’t I like to cook, I think is a better question.” Haley smiled up at me. “I like recipes that are simple and fresh for the most part, but I don’t mind getting lost in something that occasionally needs careful balancing of a bunch of items in my pantry. It’s like an extra difficult Sudoku or something.”

  Haley snorted. “Well, I admire you. I can’t cook a thing to save my life.”

  “Come over,” I offered spontaneously before frowning. “When I have a front door again, that is. I’ll show you a few things.”

  “Really?” She set the tweezers on the tray and picked up the dreaded squirt bottle again.

  “Really,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Cool.” A pause. “Last time, I promise.”

  I nodded as she let loose a stream from the bottle, mentally cursing up a storm even as I tried to distract myself from the pain by recounting substitutes for sugar in my favorite cake recipes.

  “Done,” she said. “The doctor will probably glue some of the smaller wounds, but a few will need stitches.”

  I wrinkled my nose.

  “I know.” She stood and started rummaging through cupboards, setting out various supplies as a familiar face walked into the exam room.

  “Dr. Johnson,” I said, surprised.

  He smiled. “I won’t stay long, but I just wanted to come and tell you in person that Rocco is fine. A little banged and bruised, but no internal injuries and his leg is still healing correctly.”

  I swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

  His hand found mine and gripped tight. He leaned close. “Where’s your husband?”

  I shrugged. “Working.”

  But I think the uncertainty must have shown in my tone because his eyes held mine for a long moment.

  I didn’t blink, couldn’t blink. There was an intensity in Dr. Johnson’s gaze that made my pulse speed up. It reminded me of the way Rob had looked at me. The way he used to look at me.

  I wanted that. So badly.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t want it from this man.

  “Dr. Johnson,” I began.

  “Sam.”

  “Sam,” I repeated. “I can’t—”

  His lips quirked into a rueful smile. “I know.”

  The doctor—the people one, rather than the animal one—popped into the room and began peppering me and Haley with questions.

  We both answered with alacrity until he sat on a rolling stool and started demanding supplies while engaging Dr. Johnson—Sam—in conversation about his practice.

  Haley glanced up at me and rolled her eyes.

  I rolled them back, at least until the shot came.

  If I’d thought the irrigation that Haley had done had hurt, the shot numbing the bottom of each foot was way worse.

  “It’s better if you don’t look,” Sam said, turning my face toward his. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Also, that guy is an arrogant jerk, but he’s the best plastic surgeon for miles.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because Justin called in a few favors to get him here,” he murmured, warm breath hitting my ear.

  It was a strangely intimate place to be, wrapped in a pair of arms that weren’t my husband’s.

  “Which I know,” he continued, “because I called Justin myself.”

  I stiffened, and this time not from the shot. My feet were numb, the only sensation I could feel now a distant tugging.

  Which was unnerving, but also not the point.

  I pulled back, glared.

  “Your sister needed to know.”

  “I know,” I said. “But not until morning. She’s—she needs her rest.”

  Sam raised a brow. “I know,” he replied, saying he knew clearly why my sister needed rest. There really were no secrets in Darlington. “Which is why I called Justin instead. He needed to be aware in case . . .”

  “In case what?” I frowned.

  “In case whoever went to your house, went to Kelly’s next.”

  I gasped. The doctor paused, asked if I was okay. “Sorry.” I waved him on. To Sam, I said. “Why would they—”

  He shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time an officer’s family was targeted.”

  “Oh.” I sat back, stunned.

  “I’m not saying that it’s anything besides an attempted robbery, but sometimes it doesn’t hurt to be careful.”

  “Careful,” I murmured.

  I wondered if Rob was doing just that.

  24

  Rob stumbled into the chief’s office a litt
le after midnight, bleary-eyed and unshaven. It had been five days since he’d been home.

  Five days of sleeping on a disgusting motel floor.

  Five days of attending drug riddled parties.

  Five days of not getting any closer to solving the case.

  Who was bringing the drugs in?

  Fuck if he knew at this point.

  All he wanted was a bed, a shower, and to sleep for twelve hours.

  Chief glanced up from the stack of paperwork. It was their scheduled meet, once a week at midnight, when the station was closed and prying eyes were safely tucked away. “What are you doing here?”

  Rob stopped. “It’s—”

  Chief put up a hand. “I know it’s our time. But why aren’t you at the hospital?”

  Life was funny sometimes. He was literally dragging ass, had barely been able to shake the car tailing him and safely make the drive from Campbell to Darlington. His mind was foggy.

  But the moment the word hospital left the Chief’s mouth, he was suddenly, abruptly awake.

  “What happened?”

  “Melissa—”

  His gut managed to both unfurl and clench at the same time. Thank God it wasn’t the kids, but Melissa. Sweet Melissa with her honey hair, her light brown eyes, her soft smile—

  “—house was broken in to. She’s hurt.”

  And that unfurling disappeared completely, his gut twisting itself back into knots, a cold sweat dripping down his spine.

  Fuck.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  “I gotta go,” he said and walked straight out of the office to his car. His personal vehicle was parked at the back of the station lot, hidden in an unused corner with little to no lighting.

  It was the perfect place to hide.

  Something he’d been doing too damned much of lately, he thought as he got in and cranked the engine.

  Music was playing in the background and it was a mindfuck.

  Because it was their wedding song.

  He was instantly transported back to that day, to promising to love and cherish, to respect and honor—

  He’d been doing a fuck-all job of that lately, working on a case, not home, leaving his wife to be injured when he wasn’t there to protect her.

  Rob tore out of the lot and drove to the hospital.

  It only took ten minutes, but they were the longest of his life.

  The nurse at the reception desk knew him on sight. If there was one good thing about being a cop, it was that he tended to know the right people in an emergency. “She’s in ten.”

  He nodded and pushed through the door after she’d buzzed him in. His boots clipped against the tile floor as he strode quickly down the hall.

  Seven, eight, nine . . . ten.

  One inhalation to calm himself before pushing through the door.

  His wife was laughing.

  His wife was in another man’s arms, laughing. She was pale, but appeared otherwise uninjured.

  And she was in another man’s arms.

  Rob saw red. He stood there like a fucking idiot as a swathe of crimson literally passed over his vision.

  Melissa’s eyes drifted up from the man—from the fucking veterinarian—and finally noticed him standing in the doorway.

  “R-Rob?”

  “Out,” he ordered.

  “No.”

  It wasn’t the vet that replied, but another man. This time the one kneeling at Melissa’s feet.

  He snorted. How fitting.

  Then he actually noticed her feet.

  And his throat went tight.

  They were sliced up like chunks of meat that the doctor was slowly trying to piece back together.

  He threaded the needle through the skin, pulling the two sides together.

  Melissa winced, bit her lip.

  The nurse, a blond in her twenties that Rob didn’t recognize, noticed. “Stop,” she said. “Feeling’s returning.”

  “Damn.” The doctor put down the needle. “I’m sorry we’ll have to numb you again. Sometimes it just doesn’t work as well in certain patients.”

  Melissa nodded. “It’s okay.” She closed her eyes, stiffening and letting out the slightest whimper when the doctor picked up a syringe and pressed it into the sole of her foot.

  “Tell me about the time Allie decided to cut open her beanbag,” the vet said, clearly trying to distract her, and making Rob feel lower than the dirt on the bottom of his boot.

  Melissa’s lips twitched. “It was the biggest mess. Looked”—she hissed—“like it had snowed, ah, inside the house.”

  Rob took a step forward, tired of standing there like a useless idiot.

  “I had a dog once that decided to chew mine up,” the vet said, gripping her hand and deliberately turning his back on Rob. “Took me three vacuum bags to get it all up.” He rubbed her arm. “I still find those little balls in the house sometimes.”

  Melissa chuckled as she sank back against the bed, the doctor having finished with the syringe. “Me too.”

  “Why didn’t you put her completely under for this?” Rob asked.

  The doctor glared. “Because we don’t generally need full anesthesia for stitches. Now, keep your comments to yourself, or get out. I want to finish this.”

  “Maybe you should just step outside until we’re done,” the nurse said.

  “I’m her husband,” Rob countered.

  The nurse shot him a look that said, “So what?”

  He opened his mouth to reply, but Melissa’s voice stopped him. “Rob.”

  A warning. Just like with the kids.

  And just like with the kids, it worked.

  He dropped into a chair in the corner, sighed heavily, and bit his fucking tongue until it bled.

  Then he watched his wife hold the hand of another man.

  Watched as she looked to him for comfort.

  It was excruciating.

  “Shit,” Melissa hissed, jerking back.

  “Damn,” the doctor muttered, reaching for another syringe. “And we were almost done.”

  “Don’t bother with the shot,” Melissa said. “That’s worse than the stitches.”

  “You’re sure?” the doctor asked.

  “Just do it.”

  “Miss—” Rob began.

  She shook her head at him. “Go,” she said to the doctor, who nodded and went back to stitching.

  Sweat broke out on his wife’s forehead, and her normally bright-red lips went ashy gray. The vet didn’t try to talk to her then, just held tight to her hand.

  The room went silent except for the sound of Melissa’s labored breathing, and Rob found himself leaning forward in his seat, gripping his knees in an effort to not jump up and throw the doctor halfway across the hospital for hurting his wife.

  He hadn’t felt this fucking useless since watching Melissa giving birth to the kids. But at least he’d been the one getting ice chips and holding hands and wiping the tears away.

  This was fucking agony.

  Then finally it was over.

  The doctor stood and pulled off his gloves. “I’ll leave discharge instructions with the nurse.”

  “Haley,” the blond nurse said. “Just like I’ve told you a dozen times.”

  “Haley,” the doctor repeated, either ignoring her sarcasm or exceptionally dense. “Good. Go over the instructions with her.”

  “Planning on it,” Haley muttered as he breezed from the room, white coat flapping behind him and expensive shoes clicking on the tile floor. She began gathering supplies, tossing them, and moving to a computer in the corner.

  “He’s an asshole.”

  Melissa’s tone sounded almost normal, except for the little waver at the end. And the sheen of tears in her eyes, the paleness of her skin.

  “He’s very good at what he does.” Haley attempted neutrality. Then she rolled her eyes and shrugged. “But he is a giant asshole.”

  Melissa laughed.

  It was a real one.

  And
as that tinkling sound washed over him, warming him from the inside out, Rob realized this is what he’d been missing out on.

  25

  I squeezed Sam’s hand. “You’d better go,” I said softly. “Thanks . . . for everything. You didn’t have to come.” I gave him what I knew was a very watery smile. “To the house for Rocco. Here. You didn’t have to stay.”

  For the first time since I’d met Sam, he looked uncomfortable. “It was nothing.”

  “It was something to me,” I said sincerely and reached up to give him a hug. “Now go back to sleep.”

  “Unlikely,” he said with a short laugh, arms wrapping gently around me. He pulled away. “Rocco’s at the hospital, stable and comfortable, but we’ll sort out what else he needs in the morning.”

  “It is morning,” I said, glancing up at the clock on the wall.

  One side of his mouth curved up. “How about at a more reasonable hour of the morning?”

  “Deal,” I agreed and waved as Sam left the room, not missing the fact that he and Rob shared a long cold stare before he walked through the door.

  Haley wiped her hands on her scrubs. “Well.” She sucked a breath through her teeth. “I’m going to get those discharge papers and supplies together.”

  Traitor.

  But she missed my narrow-eyed glare because she was gone.

  I glance at Rob, and blurted, “You look terrible.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Thanks. Good to see you too.”

  My husband had at least three days of beard growth, and the man could not grow a beard, so his face was covered in uneven patches of prickly-looking hair. Black circles darkened the skin beneath his eyes, which were bloodshot. He’d lost weight and clearly hadn’t been eating or drinking properly.

  If I didn’t know better, I’d think he had a drug problem.

  But I did know him. Or, at least I thought I did.

  And drugs weren’t on the plate of things Rob could tolerate.

  “It is good to see you,” I said softly. “Hasn’t been much of that lately.”

  He paused, opened his mouth then closed it. His eyes flicked to mine, “What happened?”

  That wasn’t what he’d been about to say. I’d have bet my last casserole on it. But what was I supposed to do? We were in the middle of a busy hospital, this wasn’t exactly the best time to have a discussion about the future of our marriage.