AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Doctor said he didn’t think any vital organs were hit. A lot of bleeding, but it looked worse than it was.”
Easy for him to say. He didn’t have Deborah’s blood all over his hands, jacket, and shirt. Alex tried to contain the shudder that run through him. Deborah’s face smiling at him in the hospital waiting room after they’d found Benny kept floating to the surface. That tentative, scared look when he’d kissed her. The way she ducked her head, embarrassed, when he’d said it was a start. “That’s what the doctor said.”
So what was taking so long? The surgery, like the wait for the ambulance and the ride into a hospital in some town called Emporia, seemed endless. Deborah had faded in and out of consciousness, worrying about the kids. Where would they end up now? Alex tried to calm her, but she fought him until her strength had faded and she’d shut her eyes and drifted away. He closed his own, trying to get the stillness of her face out of his head.
How many gunshots did the ER staff in this place deal with? Couldn’t be many. An occasional hunting accident, maybe. He leaned back in his chair and let his head touch the wall. Looking at the ceiling was a slight respite from staring at the floor.
“Baker called while I was downstairs. ” Alex heard Coop shift in his chair, squirming like a little kid. “Coroner also says Chavez was hit twice, two bullets to the chest, one in the front, one in the back.”
“So Deborah and I both took him down.” Together. They’d never know which shot killed the man so they’d simply share in the guilty relief that he was gone. They would have to ask to be forgiven for taking a life. Alex was new at this stuff, but surely God understood how limited their choices had been.
“Yep. Don’t beat yourself up. If I’d been a few years younger and a step or two quicker, I’d joined you.”
“I was doing my job. Deborah is the idiot.”
Coop laughed a little. “Hits you like that, doesn’t it, when you love a hard-headed woman.”
“Who said anything about love?”
Cooper laughed again, this time a big booming laugh. “Son—”
The sound of doors banging open and shut brought Alex’s focus down from the ceiling. He surged to his feet. The surgeon trudged toward them.
Alex tried to read his face. “Well, how is she? Is she . . . She’s okay, right?”
“Easy, Detective Luna.” The doctor smiled. “She made it through. There was a lot more damage than we anticipated. The bullet banged around in there, shattered a rib, collapsed a lung. Much longer without treatment and she wouldn’t have made it.”
“But she’ll recover.”
“The good Lord willing.”
Alex leaned over and put his hands on his knees, suddenly lightheaded.
“Maybe you should sit down.” Coop grabbed his arm as if to make him do it.
“Call Ray. They’re all sitting by the phone, waiting.” Alex jerked away. “I have to see her. The idiot owes me an apology for blowing it and recklessly endangering all of us.”
The doctor held up a hand. “She’s in recovery. She should be awake in about an hour. She’ll feel like an eighteen-wheeler ran over her, so you might want to take it easy on her for a while.”
“Good, I want her to be awake when I kick her butt.” Alex turned his back on the two men and started down the hallway. That way they wouldn’t see the effort it took for him to hold back the tears.
Chapter Forty-seven
Winter had decided to visit early. The bright November morning sun did nothing to warm Alex as a north wind swept across the ranch. He stood a little apart from the group as Ray read Mark 9:36-37. “He took a little child and had him stand among them. Taking him in his arms, he said to them, “Whoever welcomes one of these little children in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me does not welcome me, but the one who sent me.”
Alex swallowed, guarding against the emotion that rolled over him. Ray had erected a small marker where Nina Chavez’s remains had been found. He’d invited his family and friends—mostly those who’d been at the scene the day Nina had been found, or had been involved in the investigation, to share in a small memorial service. Only Kim Glover and her husband, the foster parents, had actually met the child. Mrs. Glover’s eyes were glazed with tears and her nose red from wiping it with the tissue clutched in her hand.
Ray stood closest to the marker, his head down as he read, his face hidden in the shadow of a huge black Stetson. Susana hadn’t left his side since the service started. They were leaving on their honeymoon in a few hours—only after Daniel and Samuel had convinced them a decision about taking Nadia Chavez into their home could wait a week. They wanted to care for the little girl until the trials were over and the long-term custody of all the children could be decided.
Clarisse Chavez had been admitted for evaluation to a mental facility in Topeka, Kansas. Nadia was still in the hospital. The remaining four children were staying with Detective Baker and his wife. They’d agreed to keep them together, give them their first shot at a real, loving home.
Alex had no illusions. Adjusting to a normal family life would not be easy. And the Bakers had no experience with that level of dysfunction, but what they could offer might be what those children most needed—love.
Despite his best effort, his gaze traveled to Deborah. She looked pale and thin and moved like she still hurt. Served her right. Acting like an idiot. The memory of her still face against the pillow in that hospital room that stank of disinfectant and Betadine assailed him. And with it, the awful out-of-control feeling that his life might slip away if Deborah didn’t open her eyes.
Of course, when she opened them, he’d blistered her and stalked out of the room before she could say a word. They hadn’t spoken since.
“She might not have found love on earth, but we can take solace in the fact that she is greatly loved now.” Ray shut his Bible.
