by Sharon Sala
Betsy stood up and brushed the hair away from Dallas’s forehead as she called to her son, “Trey! She’s awake.”
Trey shut the door in the news crew’s faces and hurried to her bed. The moment his hand cupped her cheek, she opened her eyes and started sobbing.
“Ah, sweetheart...you’re breaking my heart,” he said softly. “I can’t pick you up for fear of hurting your ribs or your shoulder. I know you can’t hear me, but you’re going to be fine.”
“What did the news crew want?” Betsy asked.
“What do you think?” Trey said. “One of their own became news. They want the exclusive. Someone wants to tie it to a story about the dangers of dogfighting. Someone else wants to do a story on her father’s death. They’re like vultures, picking at people’s lives for thirty seconds of news time.”
“What did you tell them?”
“That she couldn’t do interviews because she can’t hear. That the hearing loss is temporary and when she’s better she can make the choice for herself. In the meantime, get the hell away from her room.”
Dallas came up off the pillow as she grabbed Trey’s hand, her tear-filled gaze fixed on his face.
“They were from WOML, weren’t they?”
He nodded.
“Don’t let them in,” she begged.
He gave her a thumbs-up.
“Still my knight in shining armor,” she said, as she eased back against the pillow and closed her eyes.
* * *
Gregory Standish was about to leave the bank for a Lions Club lunch when he learned what had happened to Dallas Phillips. It suddenly occurred to him how he would be perceived once the bank claimed the Phillips farm in bankruptcy. After the tragedy of Dick’s passing, and now Dallas being attacked and mauled by some feral dog, public sympathy would be on her side. He’d been thinking seriously about running for mayor, but that would be a waste of time and money in the circumstances.
“How the hell did my life get so out of whack?” he muttered, and punched his fist into the wall.
When his cell phone rang, he almost didn’t answer it, but then he noticed it was from his wife, Gloria, and picked up. “Hello.”
“Gregory, it’s me, darling. Carly and I are going shopping in Summerton. We won’t be back in time to get your dinner, and I wanted you to know so you could pick something up for yourself on your way home.”
His heart began to pound.
“Shopping? Carly is still grounded for stealing, or don’t you remember? And what the hell are you going to do with more clothes? You both have more now than you’ll ever wear, and you’re spending more than I make.”
“Oh, Gregory, don’t be silly. You’re president of the bank, and we have a reputation to maintain. You’ll figure something out, and Carly said she’s sorry. Love you,” she said, and disconnected before he could argue.
Rage swept through him so fast he felt the heat on the back of his neck.
“Stupid bitch,” he muttered, and set the phone down before he followed through on the impulse to throw it across the room.
* * *
The pain meds finally knocked Dallas out. She was asleep, and his mother was getting ready to leave, when Trey was called out to a wreck.
“Mom, will you stay with Dallas until I get back? There’s been an accident just inside the city limits. Pickup truck and a school bus. I don’t think there are any serious injuries, but I need to be there.”
“Of course I’ll stay,” she said.
Trey left on the run, his mind in cop mode, sorting through who he needed to contact and what had to be done. Wreckers had already been dispatched, and the rest would have to wait until he assessed the scene. He jumped into his police cruiser and drove through town with his usual haste.
* * *
The killer watched from the window as a police car sped past. This had certainly been a day for drama. Dallas Phillips had been mauled by some stray dog, and now this, whatever it was.
His cell phone was ringing. He glanced at the caller ID and then turned away. Let it ring. He wasn’t in the mood.
* * *
When Dallas woke up again it was dark, a nurse was at her bedside, and Trey and Betsy were gone. As soon as the nurse finished taking her blood pressure and temperature, she patted Dallas’s arm and gave her a thumbs-up before leaving the room. It appeared word was getting around that she couldn’t hear, Dallas thought.
She raised the head of her bed enough to see out the window, and then pushed the hair away from her face. It felt damp. She thought she’d dreamed people were washing her hair, but that must have actually happened. She could only imagine what she must have looked like before, covered in blood and dirt and dog.
She looked up at the dark screen of the television and sighed. She could watch, but it didn’t seem worth it, since she couldn’t hear. Then she noticed a folded piece of paper with her name on it beneath the corner of the phone and picked it up.
Dallas,
Mom went home. I’m out at your house doing chores. I’ll be back soon.
Love you,
Trey
“I love you, too,” she said, and then was haunted by the fact that although she’d finally admitted that twice today, she could no longer hear the words.
Was this punishment for turning her back on something as rare as true love? If it was, it hurt her heart too much to think about it now. She needed to focus on something else, like the fact that the farm was going into foreclosure if she didn’t step up. As soon as she was able, she would get to the bank and pay off the debt. No matter what she decided, she needed to know that the family home was still secure.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, and as she did, she had a vague memory of Otis Woodley hovering over her, praying. She frowned. Why had Otis been praying? Oh. The dog. He couldn’t get it off her chest. Thank God he’d come to get eggs. She might still have been lying there if he hadn’t. She remembered that Otis had said Dad was coming into money, but so far she’d seen no sign of that being real.
She felt the bed move, and when she opened her eyes, Trey was sitting beside her, his hand on her knee.
“I got your note,” she said. “I have to say this, even if I can’t hear my own words. I love you, too, but then you’ve always known that.”
Trey’s eyes darkened with emotion—then he touched her shoulder and chest, as if asking how she felt.
“Throbbing and sore, but nothing unbearable.” She touched her ear. “What about my ears?”
He pulled a pen and paper out of his jacket pocket and began to write, then handed it to her: “Doctor said no damage to your inner ears. Your hearing should return, but there’s no way to say when.”
“Thank God,” she said.
He nodded.
“Can I go home?” she asked.
“Tomorrow. I’ll take you,” Trey wrote.
“Good. I just want to be home.”
He wrote on the paper and handed it back: “I’m staying with you. Don’t argue. Just until you can use your arm okay. I won’t attack you, but I might stalk you.”
She laughed out loud, and then felt like weeping. She couldn’t hear her own laughter.
Trey grinned, unaware of her inner turmoil.
He took the pad and wrote again, then handed it back: “The food is less than tasty here. What do you want for supper?”
She remembered Trey bringing her food at the funeral. I know what you like, he’d said.
“You know what I like. Surprise me.”
Trey’s gaze locked on her face. He got up, then leaned down and kissed her. The kiss was long and hungry, and when he pulled back, he made no apology. Instead, he tapped his watch, indicating he’d be back soon, and walked out without looking back.
Dallas was trying to process the fact that earlier today she’d been certain she was going to die, and just now, with only one kiss, it felt good to be alive. She touched her lips to see if they were as hot as she felt, then winced as the movement
pulled the wounds on her shoulder.
* * *
Trey wheeled into the graveled parking lot of Charlie’s Burgers and got out. As he was walking toward the café he noticed an out-of-state tag on a dirty black SUV. It was low to the ground, as if there were a heavy load in the back, but when he looked in the rear window, all he saw was a suitcase and a wadded-up blanket. On instinct, he went back to his patrol car and ran the tag. It came back belonging to a man named David Judd, aka Mutt, who had four outstanding warrants. Two were federal warrants for intent to distribute drugs, and the other two were for assault with a deadly weapon. As a bonus, the report came with a mug shot.
He made a quick call to dispatch for backup, specifying that it should come silent. Within a couple of minutes Earl Redd showed up, and Lonnie Doyle was right behind him.
“What’s up, Chief?” Earl said.
“The guy driving that black SUV has four outstanding warrants on him. Two are federal for intent to distribute, and two are for assault with a deadly weapon, so consider him armed and dangerous. I don’t know if he’s alone, but we know what he looks like.” He pulled the mug shot up on the screen but didn’t bother with a printout. “Lonnie, you go inside and order two burgers with everything, and a large order of fries to go.”
Lonnie grinned. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” Trey said. “That’s supper for me and Dallas. I think when he sees your uniform he’ll make a point of exiting as quickly as possible. We’ll take him down outside.”
“Mustard or mayo?” Lonnie asked.
Trey grinned. “Mustard only, no ketchup on either one. Now hurry up. I want to get this over with. I have a bedside dinner date I don’t want to miss.”
Lonnie opened the door wide, letting it swing shut behind him as he strode into the café. The only stranger in the place looked up and then froze as Lonnie teased a waitress nearby before going up to the counter to place his order.
“Hey, Charlie, I need two burgers with mustard, no ketchup, and everything else on them, plus a large order of fries, and would you make it to go?”
“You got it,” Charlie said, as he slid a plate of food onto the pickup window. “Order up!” he yelled.
Lonnie slid onto a stool at the front counter to wait for his order, then glanced over his shoulder just as the stranger left his table and headed for the door. An elderly couple was about to get up from the booth where they’d been sitting, and the moment the stranger walked outside, Lonnie bolted past them.
“Stay inside!” he said quickly, and ran.
* * *
Trey was standing beside the door, and the minute the man came out, he grabbed his wrist, twisted his arm behind his back and pushed him up against the building to handcuff him, then began to pat him down. He pulled a knife out of the man’s boot and a gun from underneath the back of his shirt.
“What the hell’s goin’ on?” the man yelled.
“What’s your name?” Trey asked.
“David Judd. Come on, Officer. What did I do, park in the wrong spot?”
Trey read him his rights, loaded him up into the cruiser and then handed Lonnie twenty dollars.
“Do you mind picking up that order for me and bringing it to the precinct? I don’t want it stone-cold before I get it to Dallas.”
“Since this means you get the paperwork, I’m happy to help,” Lonnie said, and took the money.
Trey radioed dispatch as he headed to jail with the pissed-off prisoner cursing him soundly.
“Hey, Dwight, fluff the towels and turn back the bed. I’m bringing you a guest. And make sure we don’t have any skunks in there tonight, okay?” Trey said.
Judd choked on a “damn it to hell, motherfucker” and gasped. “Skunk? What’s up with that? You can’t put me in no stinky cell. I got rights.”
“I already read you your rights,” Trey said. “Did you hear me say I was going to put you in with a skunk?”
“No, but—”
Trey turned on the siren just for the hell of it and drowned out the sound of his prisoner’s wrath.
By the time he had Judd processed and locked in a cell, he was sure the burgers were going to be cold. He notified the proper authorities about the arrest and was hanging up the phone when Lonnie came into his office.
“Hot off the grill. Should still be warm by the time you get to the hospital,” Lonnie said, and handed him the sackful of food.
Trey felt the bottom of the bag.
“How did you keep it hot?”
“Oh, I ate the first order while waiting on this one for you.”
Trey grinned. “Thanks, Lonnie. I owe you. The prisoner’s in lockup. He doesn’t need supper. Call if you need me. I’ll be at the hospital with Dallas.”
“You got it.” Then Lonnie added, “She’s one tough lady.”
“Yes, she is,” Trey said, and headed for his car.
* * *
Dallas was just beginning to worry when Trey finally came back. He had a sack in one hand and two cans of pop from the machine in the waiting room.
She sniffed. “Burgers from Charlie’s?”
He nodded.
“And fries?”
Another nod.
“Oh, wow,” she said, then grabbed the bed control and moved herself to a sitting position.
Trey pushed the tray table across her lap and started unloading their food. He tucked a paper napkin in the neck of her hospital gown and then popped the top on a Coke.
“We share the fries, right?” Dallas asked.
He nodded.
“This must make you crazy, having to figure out how to answer me. I’m sorry I can’t hear you,” she said.
He frowned, pulled the pad and pen out of his jacket, and wrote quickly: “I went crazy when I thought you were dead. Eat your fries or I will.”
She sighed. “Okay. Point taken.” She put a French fry in her mouth, chewing slowly to savor the salt and grease. It wasn’t anywhere near healthy, but it tasted wonderful.
Trey watched, and when she tried to pick up the burger with one hand and it began to fall apart, he wrapped the paper tightly around the bottom half and handed it to her again, then smiled with satisfaction when she began to eat.
Even though it was the first meal they’d shared in six years, being together felt so natural that the gap didn’t register.
Dallas watched Trey plowing through his burger and stifled a smile. He ate like a man who’d had too many meals interrupted to waste time, which made her think about his job. She wanted to talk, but the conversation would be stilted, considering he had to write down all his answers. Still, the curiosity of an investigative reporter made her try.
“Do you like being the chief of police?” she asked.
He thought about the arrest they’d just made and nodded.
“Do you love it?” she added.
He grabbed the pen and paper: “It makes me feel good to know I help keep Mystic safe.”
She read it, then handed back the pad.
“You were always good at taking care of people,” she said.
He wrote again: “It’s easy when they matter. Do you like your job?”
“Yes.”
“Do you love your job?” he asked on the notepad.
She read it and frowned. “Most of the time.”
“What don’t you like?”
“It’s nearly all sad or bad. We don’t do nearly enough feel-good stories, or at least I don’t get to do them. I’m not perky enough.”
He laughed.
She wished to God she could hear it. The thought of never hearing Trey’s voice again made her sick.
“Did the doctor really say my ears weren’t permanently damaged?”
He nodded vehemently, and wrote: “Have I ever lied to you?”
Her eyes welled. “No.”
“Okay, then.”
She reached for her Coke and then winced as the muscles pulled across her belly.
He immediately pushed the can closer.
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“Thank you, Trey.”
He winked.
“I’m sure glad you thought to do this. Charlie makes the best burgers, but you were gone so long I was beginning to worry.”
He took the pad and wrote again: “Had to make an arrest and process the perp. Outstanding warrants, etc.”
“Really? Where did that happen?”
He grinned and pointed at her burger.
“You arrested a bad guy at Charlie’s?”
He nodded.
“Was it a local?”
He shook his head.
“Then how did you know someone eating at Charlie’s was a criminal?”
He focused on the notepad: “Out-of-state tag, altered SUV for running drugs. Ran the tag. Owner came up with outstanding warrants. Me, Lonnie and Earl took him down without a fuss. Put him in the skunk cell.”
Dallas burst out laughing, then handed him the rest of her burger. “Here. You deserve this more than me.”
He downed it in a few bites, then cleaned up all the trash and tossed it in the wastebasket. When he pulled a Hershey bar out of his pocket, her heart skipped a beat. She glanced up at him and noticed he was watching to see her reaction.
When she stayed silent he took it as permission, and unwrapped the candy bar and broke it in half. When it came apart, he heard her sigh.
Then he took one half and began to break apart all the tiny blocks of chocolate, stacking them individually, one on top of the other. He pushed the pile toward her, then went through the same process with his half.
Together, they took the top blocks from their stacks and put them into their mouths, and the moment the chocolate began to melt on Dallas’s tongue, her hands began to shake. They’d done this together for as long as she could remember. She couldn’t look at him without crying.
They ate the chocolate, one small block at a time, in unison, and when they were down to the last one apiece, Trey kissed his block and held it to her mouth.
Her heart was pounding. This ritual was taking them down a path that had got overgrown in the intervening years, but maybe it was time to walk it again.
She picked up her last piece of chocolate, kissed it, and then held it to his lips.
They opened their mouths at the same time and in went the candy, then Trey leaned forward until his lips were only inches from hers.
