She scanned the room, searching for something to defend herself with. She spotted a steel rod on the floor, and she grabbed it and sprinted to the side of the door.
Kelsey pressed her back to the wall, waiting.
There was a thud, then Jackson swore.
He was inside the room.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs. Maybe Rachel . . .
Jackson burst through the doorway. He stared toward the stairs and wheeled just as she brought the rod down on his head.
He staggered, and his eyes widened as he saw her. He pointed the automatic at her.
The gunshot roared in her ears.
Jackson stepped toward her, but then his hand fell to his side as he crumpled to the floor.
Blood stained Brad’s white shirt as he staggered in the doorway.
“Kelsey,” he whispered. He dropped his pistol and sagged against the door.
56
FELLOW POLICE OFFICERS, family, friends—Kelsey knew only a handful of the people who filled the surgery waiting room. Her mom sat talking to Brad’s mother across the room. His sister, Andi, paced the floor while his dad talked to Rachel.
What if he died? Kelsey closed her eyes and prayed for God to spare Brad.
“He’s going to make it.” Sabra squeezed her hand.
Tears sprang to her eyes, and Kelsey clamped her jaw shut to keep her chin from quivering. She needed to speak to Mrs. Hollister and took a fortifying breath before she walked to her chair and knelt. “I’m so sorry this happened.”
Barbara Hollister patted Kelsey’s hand. “This wasn’t your fault. My son was doing what God called him to do. And I’m thankful you weren’t hurt.”
Now Kelsey knew where Brad’s compassion came from. “Thank you.”
Why hadn’t they heard anything about Brad yet? He’d been in surgery for two hours.
The door opened and Kelsey’s heart dropped. Elle. She was coming her way. Probably to ream her out for Brad getting shot. Well, she couldn’t say anything Kelsey hadn’t thought.
No matter what anyone said, she couldn’t stop thinking that because of her, Brad lay unconscious on an operating table, fighting for his life. She averted her eyes, hoping Elle would choose somewhere else to sit.
She stopped to talk with the Hollisters, then looked around and made eye contact with Kelsey. She flinched at the deep concern in Elle’s face.
She approached Kelsey. “I just heard on TV it was Brad who was shot. He was working a cold case; how did this happen?”
“He saved my life, so blame me, not him.”
She sat in the chair beside Kelsey and buried her face in her hands. “I don’t blame anyone, but this is exactly what I feared would happen. Maybe now he’ll decide to do something else.”
“Don’t count on it.”
Elle stiffened. “You think he’ll want to keep being a detective?”
“He’s a decent and honorable man who wants to keep people like you and me safe. That’s not going to change because of what happened today.”
Elle’s eyes widened. “You’re in love with him,” she said.
Kelsey held her gaze. “How I feel is immaterial and doesn’t change the truth in what I said.”
A doctor dressed in scrubs entered the room and walked to Barbara and Bob Hollister, and Kelsey leaned forward, trying to hear what he said. When she caught only a word or two, she stood and moved closer.
“. . . made it through the surgery,” he was saying. “But he lost a lot of blood. We’re moving him straight to ICU until he stabilizes.”
“Thank you, Doctor. When can we see him?” Mrs. Hollister asked.
“Soon,” he replied.
He was going to be all right. Kelsey blinked back the tears that burned her eyes. She could breathe again.
57
A WEEK LATER, Brad sat in a chair and stared out the hospital window, wanting to go home. Two more days, the doctor had said. At least he had a window. Meant he wasn’t in ICU any longer. Everyone said he’d been lucky. Jackson King’s bullet had nicked a lung, collapsing it, but had missed his heart. The first bullet had missed his brain. Personally, he didn’t think luck had anything to do with it.
“Come in,” he said to the soft knock, hoping it was Kelsey. She hadn’t been to see him, and he didn’t know why. Elle had told him she’d called once when he was sleeping.
Elle peeked her head around the door. “You’re sitting up,” she said.
“Yep.” He smiled through his disappointment. Elle had been there every day, hovering, ready to get whatever he needed. So far they’d tiptoed around the shooting and how it related to his job.
“Did the doctor say when you could go home?”
“Maybe day after tomorrow. And the first thing I’m doing is stopping on Poplar and getting me some Corky’s barbecue.”
“If you’ll let me know, I’ll drive you home and we’ll make that stop.”
He shook his head. “No need. Will has already volunteered. The doc said I could go back to work in a month.”
Color drained from her face. “I see.” She took a breath and reached for his hand. “That’s good, if you think you’ll be well enough in a month.”
Her smile was brittle and her voice too tight. “I will be. Elle—”
“Brad.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, you go ahead.”
“No, what were you going to say?”
She swallowed. “I can’t do it. Kelsey said I had to stand by you if you decided to return to work, but I can’t. I’m sorry. She was right, though. You deserve someone who can support you in what you love to do. And I’ve tried. Thought I could do it. But when you said just now you were going back to work . . .” She blinked back tears. “I’m sorry.”
He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry too. You’re a wonderful person, Elle, but I’m not going to quit being a cop.”
“I know. And you need to find someone who can cheer you on.” She kissed his cheek. “I think it’s time for me to go.”
After she left, he tried to busy himself with the exercises the physical therapist had given him, but his heart wasn’t in it. Why hadn’t Kelsey been to see him? When lunch came, he picked at the baked chicken and salad. Maybe he should call her. Except he didn’t have his cell phone with her number in it.
The door opened and his nurse came in. “Ready to go down for a chest X-ray?”
“Sure.” Anything to get away from this room and his thoughts.
Someone was standing at the window when the nurse wheeled him back from X-ray. It was difficult to see the person against the light.
“You’re back,” Kelsey said, turning around with a white sack in her hands.
“Kelsey! You came.” He inhaled. “And you brought barbecue? How did you know?”
“I got a phone call from Elle, and she said that’s what you wanted.”
“What else did she say?”
Kelsey hesitated. “That’s not important.”
He stood and walked to her, taking her hand. “I think it is important. Did she tell you I’m going back to work in a month?”
She nodded. “I think that’s wonderful.”
“Do you really?” Brad looked into her green eyes that held excitement for him, and he stroked her cheek. “You know we’ve never had a proper kiss.”
Her eyes widened, and her lips parted slightly. “I know,” she whispered.
“I think we need to fix that,” he said, lowering his lips to hers. He slipped his hands behind her back and drew her close. Her lips tasted like strawberries, and then he kissed her deeper. She returned his kiss, surprising him with her passion.
They broke apart, and he stroked her cheek again. “I don’t want to take this too fast, seeing that we haven’t had a first date yet, but what do you think about Christmas weddings?”
A smile stretched across her face. “Is this a proposal?”
“Not exactly, just something to be thinking about.”
“Then I’ll tell you right now. Chris
tmas is my favorite time of year.”
Patricia Bradley is a published short story writer and cofounder of Aiming for Healthy Families, Inc. Her manuscript for Shadows of the Past was a finalist for the 2012 Genesis Award, winner of a 2012 Daphne du Maurier Award (first place, Inspirational), and winner of a 2012 Touched by Love Award (first place, Contemporary). When she’s not writing or speaking, she can be found making beautiful clay pots and jewelry. She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers and Romance Writers of America and makes her home in Corinth, Mississippi.
Other Books by Patricia Bradley
LOGAN POINT
Shadows of the Past
A Promise to Protect
Gone without a Trace
Silence in the Dark
Justice Delayed
Justice Buried
www.ptbradley.com
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