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“I’m not going back.” I’m never going back to Florida for as long as I live.
“That’s why we have planes for them to come here and cell phones for when no one wants to go anywhere, Julie,” he says with a slight tease in his tone. “Think about it.” He kisses me softly and that ends the discussion. I know it. He knows it. Even Trace seems to know it.
“Do you still want to read the report or is that enough for today?”
“Let’s get it over with.”
Collin stands to leave, but I grab his hand.
“Don’t go.”
He nods and takes a seat in the chair next to me.
Trace hands over the police report. It rests in my hands for what seems like forever before I begin to read their account of what happened that day.
There was a tip about the neighbor speaking to a man looking a lot like Dwight and she reported hearing a lot of yelling as well. They sent a team out to investigate, prepared for the worst since they suspected I was in Florida anyway. They shouted their presence, heard a noise inside that sounded like running. They busted the front and back doors open and that’s when Dwight, faced with officers at all vantage points, opened fire.
He was shot multiple times by the officers and was dead before the tape was removed from my mouth. Dwight was just out of sight from where I was and it appears an officer had enough time to make it to the couch, which wasn’t too far from the back door. The officer that removed the tape from my mouth is the one who apparently stood so that if Dwight fired toward me, he’d have a hard time hitting anything other than the officer’s body.
I read the report two more times, reading about things they found, skipping the parts about my own condition. Peace slowly fills my body along with an overwhelming gratitude toward the officer.
“Julie?”
I glance up to look at Trace.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better.”
Trace smiles. “Good. Do you want to discuss anything?”
I shake my head. “No. I’d like to go home.”
His eyes widen in surprise and he opens his mouth to object, but Collin cuts him off.
“It’s been a long session, Trace. She’s like me. She knows when she’s had enough. We’ll take it easy at home and maybe you can call her parents in the next session.”
This time it’s me who wants to object, but Trace interrupts me. This session just keeps turning on its head. Collin escorts me out of the building and doesn’t even talk about what happened. Instead, he says that he’s working with the team’s PR people because he does want to speak out about his anxiety. He wants to figure out how to make this be a good thing, but also work for him both short-term and long-term.
That’s enough of a show stopper, though I thought he was leaning toward that, that I can’t help but dive into a discussion with him. I’m one step closer on this long road of healing, but I can’t help but think I’m not close to the end.
It’s a Thursday in late May when someone knocks on the door while Collin is out at the grocery store. Who could possibly be coming over? Marmalade jumps onto the back of the recliner and watches me walk over to the door.
“Hey, Deanna. Should I be expecting you?” I ask cautiously, searching my mind for some missed plans.
“No. Grab your purse. We have plans.”
“I have to get to work.”
Deanna shakes her head. “Collin went over your head and you are off until next week. Now go.”
“Why?” I ask without moving a muscle. Collin doesn’t like surprises for himself, but he likes to give me surprises.
“Trust me for once and do as I’ve asked.”
Since Collin is behind this, I decide her request isn’t unreasonable. Thirty minutes later, we’re in a nearby town that I haven’t really explored yet. We pull into a shopping center and I’m confused further when I see Collin, Cal, and Brayden standing in front of one of the stores.
Collin walks over by the time I’ve opened my door and stepped out of the car. “Collin, what is going on?”
