Seeking the Truth

by Terri Reed

  Rachelle shuffled after the woman to the nurses’ station. Frosty’s nails clicked against the hard floor alongside of Rachelle. He sat with his back to the desk as if keeping watch.

  Rachelle picked up the receiver and paused as she realized she didn’t know the Jamesons’ home number by heart. It was stored in her phone back at the hotel. Despairing she’d fail at the promised task, she frantically dialed the number for information only to be thwarted because the Jamesons’ number was unlisted. Frustrated, she called the NYC K-9 Command Unit and asked for Sophie Walters.

  “This is Sophie.” The woman’s voice wavered slightly as if she were upset.

  “Sophie, it’s Rachelle Clark,” Rachelle said. “I need Alex and Ivy Jameson’s home phone number. Carter was—” Her voice broke. She swallowed back the sob threatening to undo her. “I need to tell them where he is.”

  “We’ve heard the news.” Sophie sniffled. “I can call them.”

  “No. I promised Noah I would, but I don’t have their number. Please, I need to—” A fresh wave of tears coursed down her face, dripping onto the nurses’ station counter.

  “I understand.” Sophie gave her the number.

  “Thank you.” Rachelle hung up and quickly dialed the Jameson home.

  “Hello,” Alex answered.

  Hearing his voice made her knees buckle. She clung to the counter and mustered every bit of control she possessed to speak coherently. “Alex, Carter’s been shot. He’s at New York-Presbyterian Queens in Flushing.”

  There was a moment of silence, then Alex said, “We’ll be right there.” The line went dead.

  Rachelle hung up the phone, feeling raw and desolate. Now what? She pushed away from the counter, with Frosty at her side. They wandered down the linoleum hallway until she paused at the door to the hospital’s chapel. She entered and sank onto a bench.

  Folding her arms over the back of the bench in front of her, she lowered her head and sobbed. Frosty lay beside her, his head resting on her feet.

  She wasn’t sure how long she remained there, quietly pleading with God to save Carter. Frosty whined and rose to his feet. Rachelle lifted her head and found Ivy sliding onto the seat beside her.

  The knot in her chest twisted. Dread clawed up her throat. “Carter?”

  “He’s in surgery,” Ivy said. “He’s going to need a knee replacement, but he’ll live.”

  Rachelle sagged with relief even as more tears fell from her eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  Ivy’s eyes were red-rimmed as she gathered Rachelle in her arms. “This was not your fault.”

  “But if I hadn’t kept investigating—” Her throat constricted with guilt.

  “Then you wouldn’t be you,” Ivy said. “None of us can predict the future. All we can do is trust every moment we have to God.”

  She leaned away. “I should be the one comforting you.” Another wave of guilt crashed over Rachelle. “You were right not to want me in your lives.”

  Ivy shook her head. “No. I will admit I was wary at first, but we’ve come to love you, Rachelle. Especially Carter.”

  Rachelle’s breath hitched as pain seared her heart. “No. Not Carter. He told me there was no room in his life for me.”

  “Don’t give up on him yet,” Ivy said. “He may need time to adjust to his feelings, but once he realizes the truth...” She smiled. “I can’t wait to see what happens.”

  Rachelle didn’t want to burst Ivy’s bubble, but Rachelle had no illusions. There was no future for her with Carter.

  * * *

  A beeping sound, annoying and grating, drew Carter through a groggy haze toward consciousness. The scent of lavender filled his lungs.

  He knew that scent.

  Rachelle.

  Heart leaping with the need to see her, his eyelids fluttered open. Light stung his retinas. After several blinks, his focus adjusted on a water-stained ceiling, sterile beige walls and that incessant beeping to his left. He turned his head to see a monitor gauging his heart rate and blood pressure. An IV bag hung from a stand. His gaze followed the tubing down to his hand, where it disappeared beneath white gauze. He was in the hospital.

  The scrape of chair legs on the linoleum floor pierced his ear and echoed inside of his head. He winced.

  “Easy now.”

  He knew that voice.

  Rachelle. She really was here.

  A cool hand pressed against his forehead, soothing and gentle. He sighed and closed his eyes, his mind wanting to sink back into murkiness. He fought against descending into the bliss of oblivion. He needed to see her dear, lovely face.

  “Stay down,” she said.

  Who was she talking to?

  Forcing his eyes to reopen, he turned his head to find her standing beside him, her dark eyes filled with worry even as a smile played on her lips. She wore a pink, feminine top and khaki capris. Her dark hair was clipped back at her nape, the long ends draped over her shoulder. Dark circles under her eyes made his stomach clench. Then Frosty’s head appeared over the top of the hospital bed, his dark eyes on Carter’s face. Joy at seeing them both spread through him, filling all the empty places.

  Where was Ellie? He needed his daughter to complete...

  “You’re awake,” Rachelle said. “We were beginning to think you were going to sleep like Rip van Winkle.”

  Memory of when he’d last seen Rachelle jackknifed his pulse. A man holding her hostage. The searing pain in his leg. The split second to make a decision that would save Rachelle’s life. Her tears.

  He jerked, trying to sit up but his head was so foggy and his leg felt heavy, weighted down. “Are you safe?” he questioned. He looked toward the closed door. “Why isn’t there a guard? You should be under protection.”

  If anything happen to her...

  She stroked his cheek. “Shhh. Everything is fine. I’m fine.” She started to turn away. “I need to tell them you’re awake.”

  He lifted a hand to stop her. “What happened?”

  She stepped out of his reach. “Let me get the doctor.”

  As Rachelle hurried from the room, Frosty put his front paws on the bed next to his head and licked Carter’s face.

  “I missed you, too, buddy,” Carter murmured. He lifted his head and looked at his legs. They were covered with a blanket, but the left knee was propped higher.

  The door to the room opened and a man in a white lab coat, a stethoscope around his neck, walked in. He was in his midforties, medium height with jet-black hair and kind hazel eyes.

  Behind him, Rachelle slipped back into the room and leaned against the wall, out of the doctor’s way.

  “Off,” Carter instructed Frosty. The dog retreated. “Down.” Frosty settled on the floor, his gaze on Carter.

  “Well, it’s good to see you’re alert, Officer Jameson. I’m Dr. Garcia. I’ve performed your surgery.”

  “Nice to meet you, I guess,” Carter said. “I was shot in the leg.”

  Dr. Garcia nodded. “Yes. We extracted the bullet from your knee. You lost a lot of blood and you’re going to be weak for a little while, but your prognosis is good.”

  “My knee?” That didn’t sound good.

  “We reconstructed your left knee. It’ll be a while before you’ll have full function of your leg. You’ll need physical therapy once you’re healed enough.”

  Anxiety twisted in Carter’s chest. “Will I be able to walk again?”

  “Yes,” the doctor said. “However, you may not have full function of your left leg to the same capacity you did prior to your wound.”

  Carter wasn’t sure what to make of the doctor’s words. He was just glad that he hadn’t lost his leg. But what would that mean for his career with the NYC K-9 Command Unit?

  Dr. Garcia made notes on his chart. He noticed Rachelle and smiled. “I’ll l
eave you in good hands.”

  Rachelle dragged a chair close to the bed. She took his hand in hers. “Your family is waiting to see you. But I just wanted a moment to tell you thank-you. You saved my life.” She let out a small, rueful laugh. “Again.”

  “Miles?”

  “Arrested and in custody,” she told him. “His men turned on him. They confessed to being a part of Miles’s newly formed crew. Apparently, Miles had decided while in prison to take up a new profession as an arms dealer.”

  “Did he confess to killing my brother?” He held his breath, hoping they’d solved Jordan’s murder.

  Rachelle shook her head. “No, he denies any connection to Jordan’s death. And so far there’s been no evidence to put him at the scene of your brother’s murder.”

  Disappointment punched him in the gut. So they were back at square one. But at least Rachelle was safe now.

  He thanked God for that huge favor.

  “Carter, I—”

  A commotion at the door cut Rachelle off as his family pushed through the door.

  “Daddy!”

  His daughter’s sweet voice made his heart leap with joy. Rachelle stepped aside, allowing Ellie to rush the bed. Noah followed and picked Ellie up so that she could lean over to kiss Carter on the forehead. His parents, Zach and Violet and Katie circled the bed.

  “Hi, sweet pea. I love you,” he told Ellie.

  Her bright blue eyes sparkled with tears. “I love you, Daddy. We were all so scared.”

  He looked at every face in the room. His family. He was a very blessed man. Tears of gratitude gathered in his eyes.

  Rachelle slipped behind Noah and Ellie, pausing to say something to Katie and then she walked out the door. Frosty stood and stared after her.

  Carter wanted to call her back but Ellie was talking and his head began to pound as pain flowed up his leg. He did his best to listen as each person took a turn to speak to him. He appreciated the love and support even as he gritted his teeth as the ache in his knee intensified.

  “Okay, everyone,” Ivy said. “We need to let Carter rest.”

  She urged the others out of the room. His father remained at his side and gathered his hand in his.

  His mom came back and sat in the chair Rachelle had vacated. “You’re quite the hero.”

  “Just doing my job,” Carter said, his voice cracking.

  “Not the way Noah tells it,” Alex said. “And you know he’s not one to give a ton of praise.”

  Yes, his stoic brother who didn’t like to let his emotions show. If Noah called his actions heroic...

  “How long will I be in here?”

  “Doc said at least another week,” his dad replied.

  Carter frowned. “How long have I been here?”

  “Three days,” his mom said. “And Rachelle has hardly left your side.”

  “That young lady loves you,” his father stated.

  Overwhelmed by the thought and the agony rippling through him, Carter turned his head. “I’m tired. My knee is on fire.”

  His mother patted his hand. “I’ll tell the nurse.”

  But Carter doubted the nurse would bring him anything that could deaden his feelings for Rachelle.

  * * *

  With deep, welling satisfaction, Rachelle sat in her apartment holding a copy of the NYC Weekly newspaper and stared at the front page. Her article detailed her ordeal with Miles Landau and the heroic efforts of the NYC K-9 Command Unit, and specifically Officer Carter Jameson and his partner, Frosty, in taking down the arms dealer and keeping this reporter alive.

  Her article on the front page! She wanted to dance around the room in joyous abandon. She wanted to shout from the rooftop. She wanted to tell Carter.

  Instead she sank farther into the cushions of the couch and grabbed another cookie.

  With a sigh borne of heartache, she set the newspaper aside and picked up her computer. She wanted to buy a thank-you present for the Jamesons for all they had done for her. And a gift for Carter and Frosty.

  Better to buy something for the dogs. It would be less complicated, have less meaning. No, not less meaning. She owed her life to Frosty, as well as Carter.

  She admired and respected the great dogs and men and women of the NYC K-9 Command Unit.

  But most especially Carter.

  She blew out a frustrated breath. No matter what she did or how much she’d tried over the past three days, she couldn’t eradicate Carter from her thoughts. Or the feelings that had flooded her when all the Jamesons had joined her and Carter in his hospital room. There’d been an outpouring of love and support among them and between them.

  Leaving her feeling like an outsider.

  The familiar sensation had nearly drawn her to her knees right there. Instead, she’d made a quick exit.

  She just had to face the knowledge that she’d always be an outsider, no matter where she went or whom she was with.

  Maybe some retail therapy would help. The computer was open on a page for dog paraphernalia.

  First a little something for Frosty, Scotty and the puppies and the Jamesons, then a little something for herself.

  As she scrolled through the various items the cutest thing caught her eye. She smiled.

  That’s the ticket!

  And she placed an order.

  SIXTEEN

  “Five days,” Carter fumed at the doctor reading his chart. “I’ve been here five days. I want to go home.”

  And at least twice every day he had picked up the phone to call Rachelle and then talked himself out of dialing her number. He didn’t know what to say. He’d never been good at small talk. But it wasn’t really the small talk that was the problem. He had a problem telling her of his feelings and broaching the subject of their relationship. He wasn’t good at talking about the big stuff.

  Dr. Garcia smiled. “You are making great strides. Your blood pressure has normalized, and your blood volume has come up significantly. Alonzo tells me your PT is going well.”

  Carter snorted. “You mean the torturer torturing me is going well.”

  Dr. Garcia chuckled. “Yes, physical therapy can be painful.”

  Carter arched an eyebrow. “That’s putting it mildly.”

  But he was motivated to be able to walk again. He had Frosty to think about. He needed to get back out in the field eventually. Though every time he thought about returning to his beat, Rachelle’s words echoed in his head. Why would you stay in a career that puts you in harm’s way? What if something happened to you?

  A bout of panic stole over him. Carter held it in check. The last thing he needed was to go see the department psychologist. Or maybe it was the best thing he could do. Yes, he decided, he would seek help from the department’s psych doc.

  He didn’t want to be a statistic with post-traumatic stress disorder, flinching every time he thought about work.

  There was a knock on the door to his hospital room.

  Dr. Garcia replaced his chart. “I will come back and check on you later.”

  He left and in strode Reed Branson and his partner, Jessie. The big female bloodhound trotted at Reed’s side.

  “Hey, buddy,” Reed said. “How are you doing?”

  Carter pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been better. Tell me something interesting. Fill me in on what’s going on at the command unit.”

  Reed pulled up a chair. “Mostly business as usual. There have been reports of a German shepherd matching Snapper’s description seen with a bunch of teens at Coney Island. We’re going to check it out.” He stroked one of Jessie’s ears.

  Carter’s heart jumped with hope. “Ellie still maintains she saw him in Prospect Park.”

  “Everyone is keeping an eye out for him,” Reed said. “We’ll do our part. Jessie’s tracking skills are top-notch.”


  “If we could find Snapper that would be a huge blessing.” Carter hated to think they’d never see the dog again. “I wish I wasn’t stuck here. Frosty and I would go with you.”

  “I’d like nothing better,” Reed said. “Soooo,” he drew out the word. “Rachelle.”

  Carter glanced at his buddy sharply. A stab of fear hit him in the chest. “What about her?”

  “Haven’t you heard the good news?”

  “What good news?”

  “She has a job interview with the New York Times.”

  Surprise and pleasure erupted inside Carter’s chest, melting the fear away. “That’s great.” He wondered why his parents and his brothers hadn’t mentioned it. Probably because every time they brought Rachelle up, he shut them down. He sighed. “I’m so proud of her.”

  “Did you read her article about you?”

  Carter glanced at the stack of NYC Weekly newspapers on the bed tray. He still couldn’t believe she mentioned him, calling him a hero and touting his and Frosty’s finesse. His heart swelled with affection when he read and reread the articles she’d written. And every time, he tamped the tender emotion back into the box of things he’d rather not deal with.

  “She’s got a thing for you, you know.” Reed waggled his eyebrows.

  “Yeah, that’s what everybody keeps saying. But I don’t believe it.” More like he didn’t want to believe it. Because if she cared for him, she’d only end up hurt in the end, because he couldn’t...

  “Dude, she would hardly leave your side. After you were shot, she was the one who ran to you and put her hand over the wound. She rode in the ambulance with you and Frosty. And she stayed here until you woke up.”

  “I understand she needed to make sure I was okay, because I saved her life. And then she left.” Without saying goodbye or anything. He’d been surprised by the hurt that had burrowed in deep after her abrupt departure.

  “Did you ask her to stay?”

  “She didn’t give me a chance.”

  Reed tucked in his chin. “There’s this thing called a phone. You could call her and ask her to come back.”

  Carter shook his head. “I would only interrupt her life. Complicate it. I don’t want to mess up what she has going for herself.”