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She’d sensed it was trouble simply because both Pop and Zach had tried to call her, when they were together. She’d been sure of it when they’d sent those anemic texts. And then she’d spent the rest of the day going entirely crazy.
Mom had stayed with her, as worried as Lyra, at least for Reed. Michelle had come over, too, and the three of them had cycled through periods of fretful pacing, attempts to distract themselves and each other with television or music, food preparation and eating, more fretful pacing, and occasional naps when fatigue overtook the worry.
Lyra had spent part of those endless hours bringing Mom up to speed. She’d had only the foggiest notion about the Brazen Bulls and her son and ex-husband’s plans to join up, so her worry was compounded by blindsided shock. Now, she was furious with Pop for pulling Reed into that life—as if Reed weren’t almost twenty-seven years old and making his own life decisions.
Pop finally called Lyra just past ten-thirty. For Lyra, the rest of the night, until she’d shoved her way through the doors of the reservation clinic, was a blur.
Pop and Reed were both okay. But Pop’s friend Jason wasdead. And Zach had beenshot.
That morning, she’d made breakfast, and then her men had gone off to the rental house to talk about recruitment. They’d had plans for a cookout with everyone that evening. How the hell had they ended up going to Idaho to get shot at? To getshot?
Was this what her life would be now?
“Hi,” the woman at the reception desk said. “Can I help you?”
Lyra tried to pull herself together enough for speech. Before she could, her mom said, “We’re supposed to meet our family here. We got a call to meet them here?”
Understanding flowed across the woman’s face. “Right, right. The ... um ...” she hesitated, like she was trying to figure out what she could say to them. “The abdominal wound.”
“Yes,” Mom said as Lyra nodded. Zach had been shot in the belly. Lyra had cleaned up enough crime scenes to know that a belly wound was bad. They bled a lot and, depending precisely where the bullet had gone, a lot more than blood could be spilled—into and out of the abdominal cavity. A belly wound could be really bad.
Mom had tried repeatedly to calm her down by pointing out that they wouldn’t travel five hundred miles with him if he couldn’t survive the trip, so it couldn’t be really bad, but Lyra didn’t know. Where did you go for medical treatment if you’d been breaking the law when you got hurt? Was the risk of prison more compelling than the risk of death?
She had no idea how any of her men would answer that question now. Not even Reed.
The receptionist stood up. “I’m Rita. My brother Lonnie and nephew Kai are with them. Lonnie called about fifteen minutes ago. They should be here any time now. They’ll probably come in around the side—that’s the emergency entrance.”
“Can we go back there?” Mom asked, hooking her arm around Lyra’s shoulders.
“Of course—through those doors, and at the end of the hall, make a right. Can’t miss it.”
“Thank you,” Mom said. Lyra still hadn’t said a word. Speech couldn’t seem to forge a path through the thicket of her mind.
In fact, Mom had been acting like amomthrough all this, for the first time since the divorce. Despite her own worry, she’d been taking care of Lyra, offering all sorts of reasons to be sure Zach would be okay, conspiring with Michelle to distract her, ordering from her favorite restaurant—and also simply listening when Lyra needed to babble frantically and holding her when the babble ran out. The day had started with ice between them, but now they were as close as they’d ever been.
Lyra dropped her head to her mother’s shoulder.
Mom kissed her head. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s go back and wait for them.”
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~oOo~
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The reservation clinicwas fairly well appointed and modern, but it wasn’t a trauma center, or even a full-service hospital. Lyra still didn’t understand why they weren’t going to anactual hospital for a freaking gunshot wound, but there were no answers forthcoming until the men arrived.
In the small emergency department, which seemed to be without patients so far, two nurses and a doctor waited near the doors with a gurney. They all looked over as Lyra and Mom came into the waiting room from the opposite side.
“Can I help you?” one of the nurses asked.
“I think you’re waiting for my daughter’s boyfriend,” Mom answered. Lyra heard the way she referred to Zach and thought it sounded strange. She hadn’t had a boyfriend in years—and was that the right word for Zach? It seemed so ... insignificant.
She’d known him for only a few months, and they’d been truly, physically together for only ... geez, like a week. By rights, ‘boyfriend’ should have been a bit ambitious a description, probably. But he was far deeper in her life already than that high-school word.
“Oh, okay.” The nurse’s expression wasn’t welcoming, and her tone was equally flat, but parsing the attitude of a stranger was not high on Lyra’s list of priorities.
“Looks like they’re here,” the doctor said, and everyone turned their attention to the doors. Mom led Lyra up close to the door, but held on, as if she expected Lyra to run out.
