Jana DeLeon - Miss Fortune 05 - Gator Bait

by Jana DeLeon

  “Ida Belle went with Carter,” she said, huffing. “I’m going with you.”

  “Ma’am,” the paramedic said, narrowing his eyes at Gertie, “I think you should sit down for a minute.”

  Gertie plopped down on a wooden bench near the gurney as Walter, Deputy Breaux, and Myrtle hurried over to me.

  “Are you all right?” Walter asked. “What happened?”

  “Sir,” Deputy Breaux said, “if you don’t mind, I need to ask the questions.”

  A red flush crept up Walter’s face. “The hell you do! That’s my nephew unconscious on that helicopter, and my friend lying here on a gurney looking like she just fought ten men and came up short. Law enforcement does not outrank family. Not in the South.”

  Deputy Breaux was smart enough to know when he was defeated. He grumbled a “Yes, sir” and took a step back from the gurney so that Walter could take his place. He leaned over to study me for a moment.

  “You sure you’re all right?” he asked.

  “Considering everything, I’m fine,” I said.

  “What the hell happened?” he asked.

  “We don’t know. Deputy Breaux can fill you in on the beginning, but the short version is Carter was in trouble and we went after him. His boat was almost completely below the surface when we found it. I—”

  I started to explain, but choked as I tried to speak. How could I put into words my dive into the inky black, finding Carter’s lifeless body, and my struggle getting us to the surface, ultimately ending with my thinking I’d died?

  “She dived in after him,” Gertie said. “Not a second’s hesitation—just ripped off her shoes and dress and went straight down after that boat.”

  Myrtle’s hand flew over her mouth. “Oh my God.”

  Gertie nodded. “It’s the most helpless I’ve ever felt, leaning over the side of that boat, clutching Ida Belle’s hand and looking for any sign of life. Ida Belle wanted to go after her, but neither of us is in any shape to make that kind of dive. The boat was dropping like a stone and the water’s too deep there.”

  Walter shook his head, looking at me. “It’s a wonder you made it out yourself.”

  “I didn’t think I was going to,” I said quietly. “I thought…”

  Walter reached for my hand and squeezed it. “Thank God that didn’t happen.”

  “When we saw bubbles,” Gertie said, “I squeezed Ida Belle’s hand so hard it will probably bruise, but she didn’t even yell. Then Fortune popped up on the surface, Carter under her arm, but she was almost unconscious but still breathing. We hauled them both into the boat and started CPR on Carter.”

  Myrtle dropped on the bench next to Gertie and put her arm around her. “I can’t even imagine how frightened you must have been. I would have been frozen stiff.”

  Gertie shook her head. “I don’t think so. When your loved ones are in danger, something else takes over.”

  Walter put his hand on Gertie’s shoulder and squeezed. “It makes heroes out of normal people. Thank you…thank you both, for saving my nephew.”

  “I’m sorry we stole your boat,” I said.

  Walter let out a single laugh. “I’ll let this one slide.”

  The sound of an approaching copter interrupted us and we all looked up as the second it landed. The paramedic looked down at me. “Here’s your ride. They’ll take good care of you.”

  “Thanks,” I said as two new paramedics pushed me away. Gertie grabbed our purses and hurried behind.

  “I’ll meet you at the hospital,” Walter called out, then headed for his store.

  “Me too,” Myrtle said, “I just need to call for a fill-in at dispatch.” She hurried to catch up with Walter.

  Deputy Breaux looked back and forth between me and the disappearing Walter, clearly completely at a loss as to how to regain control of the situation. Unfortunately, the situation was simply too far out of Deputy Breaux’s skill set. Finally, he set off at a jog toward the sheriff’s department, probably to head to the hospital himself, or perhaps to write his resignation letter.

  The copter lurched off the ground and I watched Sinful disappear as we sped off for the hospital. My head throbbed and the rest of my body wasn’t much better off, but my mind was slowly coming back into focus.

  What the hell had Carter seen?

  Deputy Breaux had said he thought he heard gunshots during Carter’s radio transmission. Was that what sank the boat?

  I bolted upright on the gurney, causing the paramedics to jump.

  “Was Carter shot?” I asked Gertie.

  “I don’t know,” Gertie said. “He was bleeding from his leg and his side, but nothing deep. If he was shot, it was only a flesh wound.”

  Relieved, I dropped back down. “Maybe the shots are what sank the boat.”

  Gertie put her hand on my arm. “Don’t worry about that right now. Let’s concentrate on making sure you and Carter are all right.”

  “We need that boat,” I said. “And you said the water was deep there.”

  “We’ll get it,” Gertie reassured me. “Try to relax, Fortune.” She leaned forward and whispered, “We need you at one hundred percent.”

  I looked at her and gave her a single nod. As much as I hated it, she was right. All indications pointed to someone trying to kill Carter. I needed to be in top form.

  Because no one got away with trying to kill my man.

  ###

  I was a horrible person at the hospital. I’m not a good patient, especially when my mind is focused on much more important things. Between Gertie and me, we pestered the medical staff so much that they finally sent someone to check on Carter’s status. I had declared I was holding the MRI machine hostage if I didn’t get answers, and since Gertie had waved around those pointy stars, people weren’t all that interested in challenging either of us.

  Once we were assured that Carter was stable and experiencing moments of consciousness, I agreed to proceed with the examination. By that point, I’m pretty sure the tech was ready to add more bruises to my collection. He ran me through the machines like a car on an assembly line and practically sprinted away after turning me over to the discharge nurse.

  The nurse gave me a once-over and glanced at my paperwork. “Well, Miss Morrow, despite looking like you’ve played a full quarter in the NFL, you have sustained no serious injuries. Aspirin should help with the discomfort. Other than that, rest is the only prescription you need.” She handed me a set of scrubs. “These are on the house.”

  “Thanks,” I said, somewhat relieved over the diagnosis. I mean, other than the banging against the bottom of the boat for what seemed like forever, I hadn’t thought anything else had injured me, but you never know what’s going on under the surface. Medical tests always gave me a moment or two of pause, even when I hadn’t made death-defying dives into creepy bodies of water and almost died saving a man that I’d only kissed.

  “You can check out at the front desk,” the nurse said, then took her chart and headed out of the room.

  “Well, I guess that’s it for me,” I said. I stepped off the table and gently pulled on the scrubs. “Barefoot will have to do. Let’s get this insurance crap settled and find Carter.”

  Gertie held up her hand and I gave her a high five, then we both winced and grabbed our elbows.

  “Maybe we’ll just exchange ‘Hell yeahs’ for a couple days,” Gertie suggested.

  I nodded as we headed for the front desk.

  I was a little worried about the checkout process, but the clerk barely glanced at my ID before handing me a paper to sign for them to file my insurance. So far, so good. I dashed off my signature, then asked where Carter was. The clerk said he was still in emergency care and we needed to wait in the lobby.

  More than a little frustrated, I shoved the door to the lobby wide open and it crashed into a table, stopping all conversation in the room. I would have apologized for all the racket, but as the only people in the lobby were there because of Carter, I figured they would
give me a pass on being a little testy.

  Ida Belle rushed over and gave me an up-and-down. “Are you all right?”

  I nodded. “They released me.”

  Ida Belle looked over at Gertie. “Is she lying?”

  “No,” Gertie reassured her. “They told her to take aspirin and rest.”

  “Really?” I said. “You thought I’d lie?”

  Ida Belle snorted. “If they were trying to make you stay here, hell yeah, I think you’d lie.”

  “Well…whatever.” I couldn’t really argue when she was right. “What’s the word on Carter? They wouldn’t tell us much.”

  “Damned doctors,” Walter said. “We keep asking and all we get is he’s stabilized but no one can see him yet. They leave me hanging much longer, and I’m going to march right down that hall, opening doors until I find him.”

  “You really shouldn’t do that,” Deputy Breaux said.

  Everyone glared at him.

  “Never mind,” he said and slid back down onto the couch.

  The door to the emergency room opened and a doctor walked out. We all stared at him, and I’m pretty sure everyone was holding their breath.

  “I’m Dr. Stewart. Are you here for Carter LeBlanc?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “Is he all right?”

  “Are you family?”

  Walter stepped forward. “I’m his uncle, but we’re all his family.”

  “He’s stable,” Dr. Stewart said, “but he’s still slipping in and out of consciousness. He has a concussion, but I don’t see any other damage to his head. I got very little from the paramedics about how he sustained his injuries. I could tell he’d been underwater, but can anyone give me more to work with?”

  Ida Belle stepped forward and gave Dr. Stewart a rundown of what had transpired. When she was done, he rubbed his chin and nodded.

  “The lengthy submersion explains the trauma to his respiratory system. It definitely shows signs of being taxed.” He looked over at Deputy Breaux. “You thought you heard gunshots?”

  Deputy Breaux nodded. “The transmission wasn’t real clear, but that’s what it sounded like to me.”

  “I think you’re probably right. There are two injuries on Mr. LeBlanc that I couldn’t explain—both clean removal of the tissue. A bullet would account for both and is consistent with other flesh wounds I’ve treated.”

  Myrtle gasped. “So he was shot? Oh my God.” Her knees buckled and she started to slip to the floor, but Ida Belle caught her before her knees hit the tile.

  “Get a grip,” Ida Belle said as she righted Myrtle. “What caused the concussion?”

  Dr. Stewart shook his head. “Until Mr. LeBlanc is able to tell us, I can’t say. My best guess is that he fell and struck his head on something in the boat, rendering him unconscious.”

  “Maybe when he was shot…” Gertie suggested.

  “Perhaps,” Dr. Stewart agreed, “but given the situation, I’m not ruling out the possibility that someone struck him on the back of the head.”

  “Good Lord,” Myrtle wailed. “You think someone hit him, too?” She started to wobble again and Ida Belle poked her in the ribs.

  “If you buckle again,” Ida Belle said, “I’m letting you hit the tile.”

  Myrtle straightened up and shot a dirty look at Ida Belle.

  “We’re keeping a close watch on him for now,” Dr. Stewart said, ignoring the exchange. “If you’re sticking around for a while, I’ll pop back in and update you if there are any changes.”

  Walter reached out to shake the doctor’s hand. “We’d appreciate that. His mother is on her way. I know she’ll want to talk to you, directly.”

  Dr. Stewart smiled. “Mothers always do.” He gave us all a nod and left.

  I looked over at Gertie, a sliver of fear running through me. “Carter’s mother?”

  I’d known he had a mother, of course, but as she’d been out of state visiting her sister, I’d never run into her. Meeting the mother of the guy you may or may not be in a sorta-relationship with was stressful enough under ordinary circumstances. But when he’d been shot and almost died, it kinda ticked things up a notch. I’d only ever made it far enough into a relationship to meet one mother, and she’d been one of the primary reasons that relationship had ended.

  “Don’t worry,” Gertie whispered. “Emmaline is a lovely person. You’ll like her, and more importantly, she’ll like you.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “Yes, I can. You saved her son’s life.”

  “There is that.” Some of the tension in my neck slipped away. Surely I got permanent brownie points for rescuing Carter from a murky death. But how many brownie points? And did they expire? I walked over to a chair and sank into it with a sigh. This relationship stuff was so hard. Getting shot was easier.

  Gertie sat next to me and pulled aspirin and a bottled water out of her purse. “Good. Take a couple of these and rest. And have a cough drop. It will help numb your throat a bit. It’s got to be sore.”

  I took the aspirin and washed them down with the water. Now that she mentioned it, my throat was sore. I guess I’d been too wound up to notice. I popped the cough drop in my mouth and sat the water on a table next to my chair. “You know, if you unloaded at least fifty items from that purse, your back would probably stop hurting.”

  “Yes, but then you wouldn’t have aspirin, water, or a cough drop.” She pulled a bottle of Sinful Ladies cough syrup out and handed it to me. “Take a good swig of that. Takes the edge off.”

  I removed the cap and took a huge swig, then blinked a few times as my eyes watered. Sinful Ladies cough syrup was really their homemade hooch, and it was strong enough to strip paint off a bumper. I’d had it before, but usually mixed with another liquid. This huge gulp, undiluted, had practically made my eyes cross.

  “You guys should really think about making a light version,” I said, coughing.

  Gertie brightened. “That’s a great idea. All kinds of applications—teething babies, noisy children, and long airline flights.”

  I leaned back and closed my eyes. I was pretty sure those “applications” would get someone arrested, but I knew back in Gertie’s day, it was the norm. I didn’t do much travel by domestic flight. Mine wasn’t the sort of travel you wanted reported on a passport, but the excruciatingly long hours I’d spent on my bus ride to Sinful, most of them with my seat being kicked by the small boy behind me, were reason enough to wish for the good ole days.

  Guns. Missions. The good things in life.

  Chapter Four

  I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew, Gertie was shaking me. Normally, I would have bolted up, grabbing weapons and preparing to take down a small army, but I was actually too tired to move that quickly. Instead, I opted for opening one eye.

  “Carter’s mother is here,” Gertie whispered.

  That got my attention. I snapped into an upright position, jolting my injured limbs and jostling my lightly throbbing head into a harder throb. I looked across the lobby and saw a woman hugging Walter. Emmaline LeBlanc. I had absolutely no doubt. She was wearing Carter’s face. Or he was wearing hers—whatever. It was obvious where Carter had gotten his looks.

  According to Gertie, Emmaline was in her fifties, but she could have easily passed for early forties. She was trim but not too skinny, like a lot of older women seem to aim for. Her long dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, its glossy waves trailing midway down her back. Her facial features had the same fine bone structure as Carter—high cheekbones, wide-set eyes.

  When she released Walter, he inclined his head toward me and she locked her gaze on mine, her green eyes sparkling. I rose from my chair and she rushed over and gave me a quick hug.

  “Please, sit back down,” she said. “You’ve done enough physical activity today.”

  I didn’t even attempt to argue with her. The truth was, my body had taken a beating, and I felt every inch of it. I slid back down to my chair, my muscles p
ractically sighing with relief as they relaxed.

  Emmaline sat next to me and squeezed my hand. “I’d hoped to meet under better circumstances, but I have to say, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to know someone as I am right now. Thank you for saving my son.” She sniffed and wiped tears from her eyes with her free hand. “‘Thank you’ sounds so underwhelming. I wish there were better words for something like this.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I understand. I’m just glad I got to him in time.”

  “It was a huge risk,” she said, her brow creased with worry. “You could have both been killed.”

  “But we weren’t, and the doctor said Carter will be fine.”

  She managed a small smile. “Thanks to you. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a Sunday miracle. You’ve done so much. You should go home for a hot meal and a comfortable bed.”

  “What about Carter? I wanted to talk to him.”

  “I know, honey. I do, too. But he’s still not completely awake and it’s past visiting time. Dr. Stewart said we wouldn’t be able to see him tonight.”

  I glanced at the clock on the wall, surprised to see it was a little past 9:00 p.m. I’d been asleep in that chair for hours. I rose from the chair, Emmaline still clutching my arm.

  “Gertie sent Ally home an hour ago,” Emmaline said. “She’s preparing you soup and pot roast as we speak. You need a good meal, a hot bath, and a lot of sleep.”

  “Oh, wow,” I said. “I must have really been out. I didn’t hear a thing.” As I couldn’t see a single flaw in her argument, and my mouth had started watering at the words pot roast, I started my barefoot shuffle out of the lobby.

  The ride back to Sinful was awkwardly quiet, but then given that we were riding with Walter, I figured Ida Belle and Gertie were hesitant to say too much lest Walter get the idea that we planned on investigating again. Even though I hadn’t discussed it with Ida Belle and Gertie, I had no doubt that my partners in crime weren’t going to let this one quietly slip away. Mentally, they were mounting the cavalry, except we rode in on bass boats, or motorcycles, or stolen cars…anyway, I was sure the silent process was in motion.