Gone From Me: Hearts of the South, Book 10

by Linda Winfree

  If the chopper was up and the boats were out, no one had written them off yet.

  Rob rested his head against the rough tree. Thoughts of his dad, that last day, crowded his mind. The chopper had been up that day too. “Did you cry when your dad died?”

  For a long moment, he thought the water had carried his words away without Troy Lee hearing them.

  “Like a baby.” He almost didn’t catch Troy Lee’s subdued response. “The night Christopher was born too. All of a sudden, I had this boy, who I was going to have to raise to be a man, and I needed my dad.”

  The water gentled a moment, then rushed back with a vengeance. A wave slapped at him, stinging cold and burning his nostrils with dank water. He coughed, his throat raw.

  Why had he ever thought this might be an easy way to die?

  “What about you?” Troy Lee’s voice pulled him back. “Did you cry?”

  “No.”

  “It’s different for everybody, I guess. I’d had a few days, watching him in ICU. When he was gone, I broke.” Even over the water and muffled by a hand, he could hear Troy Lee’s harsh breathing. “Your dad’s death—it was sudden, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” He closed his eyes, though the night was as black as the backs of his eyelids. “He drowned in a boating accident. The boat capsized on Lake Blackshear. He wasn’t wearing a life vest and once the boat went down, he struck out for the bank. He never made it.”

  Silence, cut only by the sounds of water and cicadas, pulsed between them.

  “Don’t think it, man.” Troy Lee’s fierce voice flowed over him. “You’ve fought too hard to give up now. We’re both going home. You hear me, Bennett? We’re both going home.”

  “I hear you.”

  “Let me hear you say it.” The command brooked no argument.

  “We’re both going home.”

  *

  Arms crossed over her aching stomach, Amy leaned against a patrol car and kept her eyes trained on the darkness beyond the staging area. They were hours in, each moment passing in an agonizing crawl. The boat from the Department of Natural Resources had finally joined the search, but her hope at having a third boat make a rapid difference had only died a rapid death.

  A flurry of activity near the green DNR truck drew her attention. A Chandler deputy separated himself from the small group there and hustled toward them. “Parker, the sheriff and Wilson got a body. They’re calling in the coroner.”

  A body? Amy bit back a pained moan and made herself straighten. They didn’t know it was Rob. They didn’t. Until she had to see it, she would hold on to hope.

  “Shit damn fuck.” Madeline’s angry voice overrode Parker’s quiet curse. “I’m going to kick that guy’s insensitive ass. Bennett, I’ll see what I can find out for you, okay?”

  Amy nodded and rubbed at Savannah’s arm now wrapped protectively across her. “Thanks.”

  A low chime drew Savannah away. She pulled her phone from her pocket, read the screen and typed out a reply before slipping it back into place. At Amy’s inquiring glance, she shrugged. “Mom and Dad are here. In Coney, I mean. I convinced them to wait at the local all-night diner. They do not need to be out here.”

  “Definitely.” They would be worried about Rob and her, and she couldn’t do strong and hold up under their concern right now. She needed to focus on Rob and Rob alone.

  “It’s not him.” Madeline approached at a jog. She stopped before them, hands shoved in the back pockets of her jeans. “Reed and Wilson did find a body wedged into a debris field around a tree, but it’s not Farr or your husband.”

  “Recovery’s going to slow them down.” She knew the frustration was callous, but whoever the poor soul was, they were beyond help. Rob had been in that water for hours, and a recovery might pull all three boats out of looking for him.

  Madeline shook her head. “Calvert insisted they stay on rescue. He asked Botine to send in a GBI recovery team. They’re on the way with the county coroner. Listen, I’m going down to the staging point, so Deputy Dumbass doesn’t get another chance to upset you, okay? I promise I’ll keep you updated.”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” She didn’t watch Madeline walk away, but kept her gaze trained on the water flowing through and eating away at the road. She blinked hard, eyes stinging. “Savannah, that water’s got to be freezing.”

  “It probably feels like it, but it’s not.” Savannah wrapped a warm arm around her waist. “If it’s in the sixty-degree range, we’re good. He’s fit, which means he won’t exhaust as fast as someone who isn’t. He’s stubborn and he loves you, which means he won’t give up.”

  “No, he won’t.” Amy glanced sideways at her and lifted her chin. She squeezed Savannah’s hand. “He’ll fight for me.”

  *

  An arm draped over Troy Lee’s shoulders, holding his partner’s back to his chest, Rob fought off a yawn and the overwhelming urge to sleep. He wasn’t sure where his shivering ended and Troy Lee’s began, and when the tiny shudders slowed, he pounded his hand against the other man’s chest. “Don’t go to sleep.”

  “I’m not.” Troy Lee pushed back, the movement of trying to gain better purchase with his feet. “That would be stupid.”

  The last word slurred a bit. Rob jostled him. “Walker would love to see this. Imagine the jokes.”

  “Walker can kiss my ass.” Troy Lee shook his head with a violent motion, cold water and warm blood dripping onto Rob’s hand. “I’m bleeding again.”

  “Yeah, I know.” The same piece of unknown debris that had slammed Rob’s arm into the tree had done a number on the side of Troy Lee’s head. “Scalp lacerations bleed a lot, remember?”

  Troy Lee didn’t respond, his weight sagging to an unbearable point on Rob’s arm and the leather binding them to the tree. He rotated his wrist and smacked his fingers along Troy Lee’s jaw, hard. “Wake up, man.”

  “Hit me again, and I will kick your ass, Bennett.” Troy Lee jerked his elbow into Rob’s midsection, taking his breath. “Son of a bitch.”

  “Stay alert and you won’t have to bother to kick my ass.” God bless America, he was tired. He let his head fall against the tree, bark scratching at his already tender scalp. A shudder moved through him, the shivers tapering off. His lashes fell.

  “Bennett.” Troy Lee’s elbow slammed his ribs, and he jerked from the half-doze with a yelp. “Listen.”

  He strained his ears, accustomed now to the constant gurgling of water and the distant whop-whop of helicopter blades. The distinctive hum of an outboard motor joined the din. “It’s a boat.”

  Hope surged through him, bringing a wave of energy. He sucked in a lungful of oxygen. “Hey!”

  Troy Lee joined him in shouting, the water and the wind trying to carry their yells downstream. Yards away, a spotlight played over the trees opposite them. The spotlight bounced across the stream. In the dark, they could still be missed.

  And he wasn’t sure they could hold out until daylight.

  He nudged Troy Lee’s shoulder. “Wave.”

  Grimacing at the renewed pain, he wedged his injured arm under Troy Lee’s armpit and brandished his good limb. They yelled again, louder, arms moving wildly in hopes of catching the bright beam.

  The light glanced over Troy Lee’s chest, glimmering off his badge. The beam tracked right for a few more feet, then moved back.

  “Troy Lee! Bennett!” Calvert’s voice carried to them, and Rob sagged on a relieved prayer of thanks.

  “Over here,” Troy Lee yelled. The motor grew louder as the boat puttered closer. Rob winced at the bright shaft of light skimming over his face. A radio beeped for transmission.

  “We got ’em.” Calvert’s words rose and fell against the background noise of the water as he called in coordinates and procedures. “I need at least two Level II personnel in Reed’s boat. We’re going to execute a double throw and tow, one to each boat.”

  Rob pounded Troy Lee’s shoulder. “They’re going to have to take you first. I’ll disconn
ect us once they’re set up.”

  The setup involved waiting long minutes for the first boat to anchor in position and Calvert throwing a float bag close enough for Troy Lee to grab and tether himself. Rob cinched the gun belt tighter around the tree. Somehow, he hurt less and the waiting was easier knowing someone was actually coming for him.

  He lost Troy Lee’s head and shoulders in the dark as they towed him toward the boat, which was barely visible beyond its blue light and the spotlight glaring on the water. The spotlight offered him a glimpse of Calvert, in a flotation vest, leaning down to pull Troy Lee on board. “You had to take out another car, didn’t you, Troy Lee?”

  Rob rested his head on the tree and smiled at the relieved affection in Calvert’s tone. If Troy Lee replied, his voice wasn’t strong enough to carry above the water. Rob stared into the dark as the boat puttered away. He refused to close his eyes, afraid that sleep would take him unawares.

  He hadn’t fought this hard to give up now.

  How much time passed he wasn’t sure, but he kept his feet braced firmly on the tree. With the shared body warmth gone, renewed shivers attacked his frame. He hunched as much as he could.

  A boat motor puttered in the distance. Thank You, Jesus.

  “Bennett.” He recognized Sheriff Reed’s voice, carrying across yards of running water.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “We’re going to move in a little closer. Wilson will light up the water, and I’ll get the float as close to you as possible. You ready?”

  “Yes, sir.” He’d have to undo the belt holding him to the tree. He had to get that float the first time—he wasn’t sure how long, if at all, his weary muscles would be able to hold out against the persistent current.

  The spotlight beam hit the water in front of him, revealing a brown, churning mass. Keeping his good arm around the tree, he released the gun belt. The orange-red float bag, attached to a yellow rope clearly visible in the dim light, arced toward him. He eyed the incoming object the way he would the ball during a pick-up game.

  The throw was short. Damn if he was going to risk a second one. With the last bit of effort in his leg muscles, he lunged forward in an awkward dive and managed to wrap an arm around the float bag. The rope tautened, and he tightened his grip as they towed him toward the boat.

  The water slapped at him and the boat, but within minutes he was able to grip the edge of the boat. Wilson leaned down to hook his hands under Rob’s arms and drag him aboard. Rob collapsed on the cold metal bottom, breath coming hard and teeth chattering.

  Wilson tugged him to a sitting position and draped a light emergency blanket around his shoulders. “Let’s get you back to shore.”

  “Sounds good.” He finally let himself close his eyes, let the drone of the motor wash over him with comforting regularity. His eyes snapped open as safety brought focus with it once more. “Wilson, who’s with my wife? Does she know I’m okay?”

  “Her partner and her sister.” Sheriff Reed slowed their progress, his gaze on the bank, crawling with emergency personnel. “I called in your status to be relayed to her, and I do believe that’s her on the bank waiting for you.”

  At the smile in Reed’s voice, he strained his tired eyes, trying to find her in the dim figures backlit by emergency lights. There, on the roadway, safely away from the water, and Savannah with her, an arm about her waist. Relief and an overwhelming desire to be near her crashed through him. He’d never been so glad to see anyone in his life.

  The boat bumped gently against the bank, and he pushed to his feet before Reed had even thrown out the rope to tie off. His legs protested, weak muscles refusing to hold him, knees trying to buckle, and Wilson wrapped a strong hand around his arm. “Easy.”

  “Easy, my ass.” She’d been terrified, he could see it in the stiff line of her body, the hands covering her mouth—he couldn’t see the trembling or the tears, but he knew they were there. He damn well meant he would get to her as quickly as he could, so the reality of touching him might soothe that terror. He needed her touch too. “Help me out of this damn boat.”

  His feet sank in mud he could barely lift out of. Wilson steadied him and used his hold to propel them both up the bank.

  Amy shook off Savannah’s arm and ran to meet him. She threw herself into his arms as his feet hit the pavement. His knees buckled, but he closed his arms about her, grateful for Wilson’s hand at his back. He stiffened his legs and held on, face buried in her hair. She shook against him, so he wasn’t sure where his own tremors stopped and hers began. He held her, real and warm and shaking, as close to him as he could.

  “Oh, Rob.” Her hands touched all over his back, up his neck, and across his shoulders. Making sure he was real, he knew. She drew back, cradled his face in her hands. The whirling red lights from a fire truck glimmered off her tear-stained face. She stroked her fingers across one cheek, his skin stinging under her touch. “Oh, baby.”

  “It’s okay.” He held her face so he could see her eyes. His own fingers trembled wildly against her skin. “I’m here. I’m okay.”

  She wrapped her hands around his forearms, hard, and agony shot through his injured arm. He hissed in a breath, but didn’t let go.

  “What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?” She released him and twisted in his arms, desperation in her movements. “Savannah, come here.”

  “Babe, it’s fine.” His teeth chattered again, and he fought off a wave of vertigo. Shit, he was going to fall down if he didn’t sit down soon. Maybe Wilson wouldn’t let him fall on his ass.

  “It’s not fine. You’re hurt and you’re shaking and…” She pulled in a deep breath. “I want Savannah to check you out. Please, Rob.”

  “We’ve got paramedics on hand,” Wilson offered, and Rob chuckled.

  “She’s an ER doctor, Wilson, and I doubt she’s going to let anybody else do it.” He wrapped his arm tighter around Amy. “She’s as stubborn as her sister.”

  “Who’s stubborn?” Savannah took his chin in her hand as she reached them and turned his face to the side. “Unlike your buddy’s head, that doesn’t need stitches.”

  “His arm’s hurt.” Amy didn’t release him, her fingers digging into his waist like she would never let him go. Hell, she was holding him up, when his legs threatened to give out beneath him. His eyes burned, his throat suddenly tight and choked.

  Savannah’s expression softened. “Let’s see if they’ll let us borrow an ambulance and I’ll look him over.”

  Borrow was probably a misnomer, as Savannah gently forced a paramedic to share his rig with her. Grateful for the chance to sit down before he fell down, he sagged inside the open back door. A deep sigh and inhale threatened to turn into a sob, and he breathed through it, forehead resting on his hand, elbow on his knee.

  “Amy, you have to let us take care of him.” Savannah maneuvered Amy to one side and tilted his head back to place an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. “Can you hold that in place for us?”

  He nodded, the warm rush of oxygen helping to settle him down and let him get his wildly veering emotions under control. Eyes closed, he simply breathed while Savannah and the medic took his pulse, listened to his breathing, and checked his temp and blood pressure.

  “Rob.” Savannah tilted his head with a gentle hand. “Let me check your eyes.”

  He complied, wincing at the bright beam bouncing across his pupils. Savannah smiled. “Good.”

  “What’s your full name?” The medic started an IV in his uninjured arm.

  “Robert Hamilton Bennett III.” He hissed at the burn traveling up his veins.

  “You know what day it is?”

  “Tuesday if it’s after midnight.” He sucked in a deep breath, lungs aching. “Which I’m pretty sure it is.”

  “It is.” Savannah ran a gentle hand along his arm, stopping when he winced. “Tender there, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Make a fist for me.”

  He did and bit back a yelp. Frowning, he eyed
the activity beyond them. Calvert and Cook were conferring at the back of the coroner’s van.

  The coroner.

  What the hell?

  “Try a thumbs-up. And make a star.” Savannah demonstrated, splaying all five fingers. He grimaced but complied, better prepared for the wave of pain that accompanied the movements. She swiped her thumb across his palm. “Yep, you’re sweating. You’re going to the ER for x-rays.”

  “No.” He tried to stand, and she sat him down with a hand on his shoulder and ridiculous ease. “Why are they loading the coroner’s van? Where’s Troy Lee?”

  “On the way to the ER for stitches. They pulled a body out of the water before they brought in the two of you.” Savannah tossed a look over her shoulder, then fixed him with a stern expression. Calvert tagged Cook’s arm and walked toward them. “And you are not going to be all strong, male and stupid and refuse the x-rays. I’m not letting you risk nerve damage to that arm.”

  “She’s right.” Calvert cast an assessing gaze over him. He jerked a thumb toward the coroner’s van. “You’ll be interested to know that all signs point to that being Zeke Jenkins’s body.”

  “What?” The oxygen mask fell to his lap. Savannah rolled her eyes, retrieved it and strapped it to his head. He brushed off her hands and lifted the mask so he could speak. “I need to—”

  “Go get that arm taken care of and then catch some sleep.” One corner of Calvert’s mouth hitched in an amused smile that didn’t belie the firm command. “I understand the desire to chase a lead, but there’s no evidence to be found in that water and autopsies take time. You can talk to Ford at the crime lab when you wake up.”

  A glance at the set faces around him and any desire to argue evaporated. He simply didn’t have the energy, and he was all on edge anyway. “Fine, but no one’s wheeling me into the ER.”

  *

  True to his word, he managed to walk up the ramp to the emergency room, an arm slung around Amy’s shoulders and Savannah’s muttering about stupid male pride ringing in his ears. After x-rays revealed a hairline fracture in his forearm and the ER doctor found nothing further amiss, he finally found himself headed the one place he longed to be—home with Amy.