TK’s large nose and watery blue eyes were only a few inches away. Her instinctive jerk to put some distance between them had those aches jumping out all over her body. Letting out a gasp, she took short, quick breaths to cope with the pain as she glared up at the doctor.
“Move back,” she croaked out.
With a satisfied look, TK straightened up. “Good of you to join us.”
Us? When the doctor took a small step back, her uncle Cy’s face appeared over one of his shoulders and Clay’s over the other. When her gaze shifted back to TK, he shrugged.
“I tried to keep them out, but small towns being what they are, just the two of them in here was the best I could do. The rest of your fan club is out in the lobby.”
She shifted a tiny bit, trying out the movement, grimacing at the pain that shot up one arm. She gingerly turned her head and stared at her right wrist, lying on a raised small table nestled beside the narrow bed. It was almost invisible between a metal splint and thick bandages.
Following the direction of her gaze, TK slanted his head toward the small table. “You’ll need to have that elevated as much as possible to help keep the swelling down. You’re lucky. It was a clean break. Should be healed up in five or six weeks.” His shaggy eyebrows drew together. “As I recall, you’re right-handed, so I guess you won’t be shooting anyone for a while.”
Ricki’s glare returned to the doctor. “I can shoot with my left. In case you have any ideas about keeping me here.” She worked through several more shallow breaths as she tried moving her legs. That brought on more of a dull ache than a sharp pain, but that was almost a blessing considering her back was on fire and her chest hurt every time she breathed.
“We’ll have to talk about it in a bit,” TK said mildly, not looking at all put off by her threat. “Do you remember what happened?”
“Jeep rolled.” She closed her eyes and saw a red car coming at her. “I was hit by another car.” Her face scrunched up as she slowly brought back the scenes imprinted on her memory. “A tire blew out. I heard the noise. The jeep went sideways, and then it was hit by a car in the other lane.” She looked at Clay for confirmation. He nodded, his mouth pulled into a grim line.
“That’s right.” His voice was low and calm.
She frowned. His tone was the kind a cop used when he expected a witness to have more to say. She thought back, but that’s all she had. The loud noise. Then the tire blew out, sending the jeep across the road. The red car had suddenly appeared from around the corner, coming straight at her. That’s all she remembered.
“What am I missing?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Clay said. He stepped around TK and laid a hand gently against her shoulder. “I didn’t have time to get much of a look, but that’s what I thought had gone down from the skid marks and what’s left of the jeep. Your front left tire blew out.” He paused for a moment. “You heard it blow?”
“I heard a loud noise and then the car skidded left,” Ricki said. She briefly closed her eyes. “What time is it? Eddie gets out of school early today.” She started to sit up, not able to suppress a loud groan from even that small movement. “I need to get to the diner before he hears about this.”
“He’s already heard,” her uncle put in. His voice was hoarse, and deep lines of worry were etched down his cheeks. “I picked him up from school. He’s out in the lobby with Marcie and Anchorman.”
With some effort she managed to pull herself up against the pillows before giving her uncle an exasperated look. “Well, go get him so he can see for himself that I’m fine.”
“I’ll get him,” TK volunteered. “The bruising is starting to show, so I want to warn him not to run out of here screaming. Then we’ll talk about concussions.”
“I don’t have a concussion, TK,” Ricki said to the doctor’s back as he disappeared through the doorway to what Ricki knew was the short hallway leading to the front lobby of the tiny hospital.
Down the hall in the opposite direction was a large alcove with a nurses’ station, and beyond that were several rooms with X-ray and ultrasound equipment, as well as five patient rooms for any overnight guests. Which would not include her.
“Mom.”
The sight of her son’s frightened face immediately pulled her away from the unacceptable prospect of spending the night in the hospital. She smiled and managed to reach out her good hand without grimacing.
“Hey, bud. I’m fine.”
Eddie ran over to the bed, forcefully pushing his great-uncle aside to wrap his arms around his mother’s bruised shoulders. She pursed her lips against the sudden spurt of pain, but didn’t utter a sound as she returned a one-armed hug before Cy put his hands on the tall teenager’s shoulders and gently pulled him back.
“She’s good, son. But she got banged up a bit. You’ll need to treat her like a piece of china for a few days.”
“China. Right.” Ricki met Eddie’s gaze and rolled her eyes, relieved when his body relaxed and he grinned back at her.
Eddie adjusted his glasses and leaned in a little closer again. “Your face is turning kind of purple.”
“Not pretty, but not life-threatening,” Clay said. “We were about to discuss getting her home and who should be staying with her.”
Ricki lifted an eyebrow. “We were?”
Eddie turned and faced Clay. “I’m staying with her. There’s no more school, so I can take care of my mom.”
“I’d feel better if I was there too, son,” Cy said. He reached out and patted Eddie’s shoulder. “That way we can take turns listening to her complain.”
Ricki took immediate offense to that. “I don’t complain.”
“Remember what she was like the last time she came home from a hospital?” Cy asked, addressing Eddie and completely ignoring his niece. “All she did was complain.”
“After our last case, she was kind of whiny about the bruise from the bullet she took to the vest she was wearing, too,” Clay put in.
“I was not,” Ricki said, her glare bouncing between the two men.
Eddie gave her a pitying look. “You kind of were, Mom. I figured it’s just your way of dealing with pain. Dad’s a lot quieter about that kind of thing.”
Macho man strikes again, Ricki thought sourly, then felt a niggle of guilt. Bear really wasn’t a complainer, and considering how much he’d been banged up over the years between playing football and then running groups out on their wilderness tours, she should be happy he wasn’t a whiner, rather than annoyed about it. Still, getting tossed around in a rolled car was worthy of a small complaint or two.
“Hey.” Marcie’s cheerful voice floated across the room. “TK said we could come in and see how you’re doing.” She walked over to the bed, her short, sturdy build bouncing on the toes of her feet. She leaned over and gave Ricki a kiss on the cheek. “Honey, you sure do have a knack for finding trouble.” She leaned back and studied Ricki’s face. “How are you doing?”
“Looking forward to going home,” Ricki said loud enough to carry out into the hallway where TK was standing, looking over the papers attached to the clipboard he was holding.
“Okay,” Marcie said. “We can arrange that.” She turned her head and looked at Anchorman. “Can’t we? Maybe get her into your car since it’s bigger than mine? I’m sure Clay and Cy have official kind of things to take care of.”
“Sure,” Anchorman said easily. “No problem.”
“Yeah, Mom. We should get out of here.”
Ricki’s eyes narrowed on her son’s face. Rather than meet her gaze, he dropped his head and looked at the floor, but not before she saw the flash of anxiety in his eyes. Something was bothering him. And not just her getting hurt in an accident.
She looked at Cy, then at Marcie and Anchorman. Now that she could focus on them, it was easy to spot the identical fixed smile on their faces, and the same guilty look in their eyes. Since she didn’t have any major injuries, and they could all see that for themselves, there was obviously something else going
on. She looked over at Clay and frowned.
“Want to tell me what’s up?” She gestured toward the group standing beside him. “Whatever it is they’re trying really hard not to tell me?”
Clay reached out a long arm and herded the others away from the bed. “Why don’t you all give us a few minutes. Go check with TK on what we have to do to spring her out of here.”
“I really don’t think . . .” Marcie began.
“I want to talk to the chief, Marcie,” Ricki said quietly. “Please.”
Cy shepherded the other three out, giving his niece a long worried look before pulling the door shut behind him.
Ricki waited half a beat before looking over at Clay. “Well?”
“You said that you remember skidding across the road, and seeing another car?”
“Yeah.” Ricki frowned. Despite the headache clawing its way up from the base of her skull, she clearly remembered the flash of red. “A car just appeared from around the corner. I put the pedal down, trying to get out of its way, but it still clipped me. I heard the metal hit my rear fender, but nothing after that . . .” She trailed off. She didn’t remember hearing the other car crash, but she did hear someone calling for help. She thought it had been for her, but now she wasn’t so sure. “What happened?”
“That car had five people in it, two in front and three in back. University students. They were staying at the resort to celebrate the end of the semester.”
All the color drained from Ricki’s face. She could tell from Clay’s expression that it was bad. “Are they all right?”
“From the skid marks it looks like their car took a spin or two then hit a tree broadside. On the driver’s side.”
She felt dizzy and put her hand to her forehead to keep it from flopping over onto her chest. She couldn’t get any words out, but her eyes widened, waiting for the floor to drop out from under her and swallow her whole, hospital bed and all.
He took in a deep breath and laid a large hand over her limp one, lying across her stomach. “Two were airlifted to Tacoma. Two were brought here with minor injuries.” His hand tightened around hers. “The driver didn’t make it. TK says she died instantly from the impact.”
“She?” Ricki closed her eyes and didn’t fight the mist welling up beneath her lids. “How old was she?” When he didn’t answer, she opened her eyes and stared at him, ignoring the tears that were slowly dripping down her cheeks. “How old, Clay?”
He sighed and ran his free hand through his dark-blond hair. “Amanda Cannady. Twenty years old.”
“Oh God.” Ricki collapsed onto the pillows. She’d lost control of the jeep, hit another car, and now a twenty-year-old woman was dead. If there had been enough room on the bed, she would have curled up into a small ball. Instead, a weight settled next to her and Clay’s arms pulled her close, drawing her up against his chest.
“It wasn’t your fault. I’m going to have a look at the jeep and find out what happened, I promise. But I know it wasn’t your fault.”
She didn’t nod her agreement, but slowly straightened up, pushing away from him.
“You can say that, but you weren’t the one behind the wheel of the jeep. I was.” She pulled away even farther, rolling to her side so her back was to him as the tears came more rapidly. She was the one who hadn’t reacted in time, hadn’t hit that gas pedal fast enough. And now Amanda Cannady was dead.
Chapter Fifteen
Ricki winced as she shifted her position on the small couch in her compact living room. The aches and pains had made themselves known from the minute her uncle had driven her home from the hospital, and had kept reminding her they weren’t going anywhere all through the next day. They were still putting up a protest, but only a half-hearted one compared to the day before, although the bruises had certainly added an interesting dimension of color to her face, chest, and arms.
The more they had bloomed and become visible, the more anxious Eddie had grown, which led him to take his job as head nurse and keeper to a degree that would have bordered on the comical if he weren’t checking on her every five minutes. She had to admit that he was persistent.
Her son continually tried to get her to drink a glass of milk, making sure one was always available on the table next to the couch, and every meal he expected her to consume plates of raw vegetables that he had painstakingly cut into mismatched pieces. Seeing the stubborn determination on Eddie’s face, she didn’t think it would do her any good to remind him that she preferred water, or tomato juice with a bit of Tabasco in it, or would have liked the comfort of a fried PB&J.
Purely to keep him from nagging, and to get a little peace and quiet for herself, she’d drunk the milk and eaten the vegetables until she’d finally decided that two days of nonstop milk and healthy food was about all she could handle. Fully invoking her mom prerogative, she sent him outside with the excuse that Corby needed some exercise, and then slowly walked into the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee.
It was bitter, and nowhere near the level of Anchorman’s superb blend, but it was still better than a glass of milk.
She took small sips from the steaming mug and watched as boy and dog played a game of tug-of-war with four old socks tied together. It was one of Corby’s favorite games, and judging by the smile on her son’s face, one of Eddie’s favorites too. Normally she’d be itching to go out and join them, but a heavy tiredness seemed to have settled permanently on her shoulders, so she returned to the couch. The second-hand piece of furniture wasn’t quite long enough for her to sprawl out, forcing her to keep her knees bent.
Settled back into the same spot she’d occupied for three days, she tugged a light blanket up to cover her from feet to waist and stared at the blank TV screen on a small stand across the room, only because there wasn’t much else to look at.
The cabin had a single large space downstairs. The kitchen ran across the back, separated from the rest of the living space by an island with just enough room for three barstools. Taking up the rest of the space was the couch she was curled up on, along with a crude coffee table made from two boards held up by stacks of bricks under each corner, two straight-backed chairs, the TV stand, and a small desk in the corner. Upstairs were two bedrooms and the sole bathroom that she had to share with her teenage son.
The cabin was cramped, and two corners of her bedroom were stacked high with boxes she still hadn’t unpacked since moving back to Brewer, so she’d always preferred to spend her time outside—whenever the fickle weather of northwestern Washington allowed it—whereas Eddie liked to hide away in the detached garage he’d commandeered to build his bots. But as crowded as her small home was, over the last few days she’d stuck to the inside.
The cluttered space had become her sanctuary—a place to retreat from the rest of the world and brood in peace. It was hard not to think about Amanda Cannady. The twenty-year-old hadn’t been doing anything except driving down a public road with her friends, enjoying a break from school. And now she was dead.
A split second, Ricki thought for the hundredth time since Clay had told her about the crash. Another second and she might have avoided the other car and Amanda would still be alive. Just another second, maybe two.
On the coffee table’s rough surface, her cell phone began the peculiar wobble-and-jiggle dance of a device switched to vibrate mode. When it continued to rattle, she gave it a disinterested look. It had done that all day yesterday, and most of this morning, although it had slowed down considerably in the last hour. Hopefully her voicemail was finally full and that would be the end of the calls for a while. She was grateful for the reprieve from the noise. Up until now, she hadn’t realized how annoying the sound was.
She hadn’t picked her phone up since she’d left the hospital the day a day and a half ago, and had no plans to answer it the rest of today either. Or play any of the twenty-two messages left by well-meaning people. Or maybe her boss. She shrugged. She really didn’t care. It was the same with opening her laptop and goi
ng through what she was sure were a gazillion new emails.
She shifted her gaze back to the front window. Too bad. The rest of the world could wait. It was Sunday, and still the weekend. She was off the clock.
Satisfied with that rationalization, she settled back into watching her son and their dog. Several minutes went by in peace before Corby suddenly dropped the sock and started barking, making Eddie turn and look down the driveway. Ricki tensed when a white Ford truck with tinted windows came into view, and then relaxed again as Clay’s official SUV pulled in behind it.
Her forehead wrinkled when Clay stepped out of the truck, and his deputy out of the SUV. What? Had he given up being chief? She let the thought slide off when Eddie called out a loud greeting while Corby continued barking as if he were being attacked by a pack of wolves. When Clay strode toward the cabin, Ricki sighed and plucked at a stray thread sticking out from the edge of the blanket. It seemed she was going to get company whether she wanted it or not.
Her cheeks reddened as she remembered the last time she’d seen him. Good Lord, first she’d wept all over his shirt, and then she’d turned her back on him. She’d never done anything like that. It was downright humiliating. She always did her crying in private, when no one else was around. Not her son, not her uncle, not even Bear when they’d been married. Hell, she hadn’t cried all over anyone during Marie’s funeral, much less at the news of a complete stranger dying in a car crash. Of course, Marie had signed up for a dangerous job, and Amanda hadn’t . . .
Ricki forced herself not to finish the thought. It was just a variation on the same one that kept replaying over and over in her head. She couldn’t seem to shake it off, or even put it into what her head knew was a proper perspective. To distract herself, she silently called up the apology to Clay that she’d already mentally practiced a half dozen times.
She looked over when the cabin door opened, managing to work up a half-smile as Clay stepped in and shut the door behind himself.
Now is as good as any time, she thought. “Hi.” She looked out the window where Jules was following Eddie toward the garage. Corby was bringing up the rear as the three of them disappeared from view. “Jules isn’t coming in?”
One Last Scream (Special Agent Ricki James Book 2) Page 11
