Sheltering Dunes

Chapter Sixteen

Allie awoke disoriented, unsure if it was morning or night. The buzz of her cell phone vibrating on the bedside table reminded her of a swarm of angry wasps, and she resisted the urge to slap at the air. She searched in the dark for a touchstone and found it in Ash’s warm body pressed against her back. In an instant she remembered climaxing with Ash inside her, falling asleep with Ash in her arms. She knew where she was, who she was, and she groped for her phone. “Tremont.”

“Hey,” Bri said. “Sorry to get you up, but I thought you’d want to know someone jumped Flynn and another girl tonight.”

“Is Flynn all right?” Allie pushed up in bed and Ash, waking instantly, wrapped an arm around her waist. “What happened?”

“Not sure yet. We’re on the way to the clinic right now.”

“The girl…Hispanic, early twenties, about five-seven, black hair, brown eyes?”

“Sounds right. That the one?”

“Yeah. I’ll be there in ten.”

“Roger that.”

Allie disconnected and shoved the covers aside. “I have to go in. Sorry.”

Ash clicked on the lamp on her side of the bed. “What’s going on?”

“That was Bri. Flynn and Mica—the woman I told you about—were assaulted. That’s all I know.” Allie grabbed a pair of jeans off the shelf in the closet. Her hands were shaking.

“How bad?”

“I don’t know. Damn it. I knew something was going on. Tell me this is a coincidence.” Allie yanked a shirt off a hanger. “If I’d questioned her the way I wanted to instead of waiting for the damn computer checks, I might have—”

“Hey.” Ash’s hands came down on Allie’s shoulders, and she drew Allie back against her chest. Ash kissed her temple. “Facts first, right?”

Allie took a breath and gave herself a second to let Ash’s calm strength settle her. She didn’t usually get emotional where work was concerned. If Ash was hurt, yeah, her world tilted. Flynn was a friend—okay, a little more than a friend; the exact definition escaped her—but that still didn’t explain why she felt so guilty. “I feel like this is my fault, somehow. Like I should know what’s going on and I don’t.”

“Babe,” Ash murmured, turning Allie to face her. “You’re doing all you can do. Go find out what’s going on and take it from there. You’re a good cop. Better than you should be for someone your age.”

Allie laughed and slugged Ash softly in the shoulder with her fist. “Don’t go pulling that older and wiser crap on me.”

Ash grinned. “Well, as soon as you get your temper up, you start thinking more clearly.”

Allie kissed Ash hard on the mouth. First she’d make sure Flynn was all right, then she’d find out who Mica really was, and she wouldn’t stop digging until she had the answers she wanted. “I love you.”

“Same here. Take it easy out there, okay?”

“I always do.”

*

The back doors of the medic unit opened, and Mica looked out on the same parking lot she’d seen before. The same clinic, only lit tonight by floods at the corners of the roof and over the door. She was strapped to the same stretcher, but this time she was awake and Flynn was on a stretcher across from her. A lot more police cars pulled in around them than the first time too.

Her chest seized. This was bad. She’d gotten away the last time before she’d been asked questions she couldn’t answer, but she wasn’t so sure she could do that again. Too many cops and a lot more questions. Then there was Flynn. She turned her head, peering around the blond EMT who was bent over Flynn in the tight space, organizing the lines and tubes and monitors attached to her. Flynn had a plastic collar Velcroed around her neck, an IV in her arm, and a bunch of wires attached to her chest. Her eyes were open, but in the flat yellow light of the ceiling dome, she looked dead. Dead people got this look about them—their eyes stopped shining the second their soul, or whatever it was inside them, disappeared.

Mica’s heart hammered hard against the inside of her ribs.

“Flynn?” Mica wet her dry lips. “Flynn, are you okay?”

Flynn’s eyelids flickered and she turned her head a tiny bit until the collar stopped her. “Yeah. You?”

“Good. I’m good.” Mica got her breath back and the pain around her heart lessened. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? Did you kick me?” Flynn’s voice was hoarse, lower than it usually was.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do, and there’s no reason for you to be sorry.” Flynn raised the hand that wasn’t strapped down and tugged at the collar on her neck. “Come on, Chris, I don’t need this. It’s driving me crazy.”

“Sorry, Flynn,” Chris said. “You know the drill. It looks like somebody played soccer with your head. The immobilizer stays on until Tory says it can come off.”

The male paramedic who’d been driving climbed into the back, and Mica gripped the stretcher for the trip into the clinic. The medics took Flynn out first.

“I want to go with her,” Mica called. “Let me out. I don’t need to be—”

Chris knelt by her side. “You’ll be inside in just a second. She’s in good hands. Nobody’s going to let anything happen to Flynn.”

“Yeah, sure.” Mica knew better. No one was ever safe. Anything could happen to Flynn, and no one would tell her.

*

Tory heard familiar footsteps coming down the hall outside her office. She didn’t have to see Reese’s face to know that was her. Reese might be a cop now, but she walked like a marine. Sharp, steady, perfectly even steps, as if she always knew her destination and never wavered. Warm heat flooded through Tory’s chest. The thing she loved best about Reese was how steady she always was. How sure and strong. Even when she was hurt and frightened, Reese never wavered.

“Incoming,” Reese said from the doorway.

“I heard the sirens. How bad?”

“Both walking wounded. I’ll leave the rest up to you.” Reese leaned against the doorway, her brow faintly furrowed. “You didn’t get much sleep. How are you feeling?”

Tory smiled. “Is this the first of the million times you plan to ask me that in the next nine months?”

Reese’s brows drew down further. “Try two million.”

Tory laughed. “I’m fine. If you’ll remember the last time, I—”

“I remember, Tor,” Reese said darkly.

Tory came around her desk and motioned Reese in. “Close the door.”

Reese pulled the door closed, and when she met Tory in the middle of the room, Tory pressed her palms to Reese’s chest and kissed her. “I’ve only got a second. I know you remember the last time. You remember how it ended. Try to remember how exciting it was, how miraculous, to feel the baby kick the first time, and think about Reggie and all she’s given us. I’m going to be fine. Promise me you’ll try not to worry.”

Reese slid her hand around the back of Tory’s neck and tugged her closer. “I can’t promise that. But I can promise I’ll enjoy every second of this pregnancy.”

“Well, maybe not the morning sickness part. I won’t ask that of you.” Tory kissed her again and stepped away. “I’ve got to go.”

“I’ll wait. I’ll need statements from them.”

“I’ll let you know as soon as you can see them.” Tory went into the hall and met Chris Connelly, one of the local EMTs, outside treatment room one. Another EMT was assisting a patient in treatment room two. “Which one first?”

“This one,” Chris said, indicating the room behind her. “The patient in two is stable—a few lacerations and abrasions, some blunt force trauma to her neck, but none of it looks too serious. Her vital signs are stable, no loss of consciousness.” She grimaced. “Flynn, on the other hand, took a beating. She was disoriented at the scene, but no documented loss of consciousness. She’s got a significant contusion on her right temple and localized right rib tenderness. Possibly fractures.”

“All right, I’ll start with her. Can one of you stay with the other patient just to be sure she remains stable?”

“Yeah, I’ll radio base we’re not available for calls until you give us the go-ahead.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. I can wake Nita up, but by the time she gets here, I’ll probably have a chance to look at both of them.”

“No problem,” Chris said.

Tory walked over to Flynn and picked up the clipboard on the bottom of the bed. She scanned it quickly. Vital signs were all normal, although her pulse was rapid and her blood pressure high. An area over her right temple and cheekbone was swollen and discolored. She leaned down and squinted at the area. Not a fist. A shoe, most likely. Anger simmered but she pushed the distracting fury aside and rested her hand on Flynn’s wrist. Her pulse was bounding. Stress, fear, pain. “How are you feeling?”

“Not bad.” Flynn’s voice was reedy and thin.

“Show me where your chest hurts,” Tory said as she fit her stethoscope to her ears. Flynn covered an area on her lower right side, and Tory avoided the spot as she moved her stethoscope over Flynn’s lung fields. Breath sounds were present, but depressed. Flynn obviously wasn’t taking a deep breath. She set her stethoscope aside and pushed Flynn’s shirt up. A five- by eight-inch area over her right lower rib cage was mottled purple. She gently palpated the area, and Flynn stiffened, trying unsuccessfully to hide a wince. Tory didn’t feel any crepitus from air in the tissue or grating from shattered bone ends grinding together, but the degree of Flynn’s pain suggested a fracture. “We’ll need to X-ray you.”

“Have you seen Mica yet?”

“The other patient?”

“Yes.”

“Not yet. Mica. Wait a minute. The girl who was hit while riding her bicycle?”

“Yes, that’s the one.”

Tory made a few notes on the clipboard. Red flags were waving from every corner. “That’s a pretty unlucky coincidence.”

“The driver of the van was from up-Cape,” Flynn said slowly. “This guy wasn’t from around here. Not related, I don’t think.”

“Well, you don’t need to figure it out for me. Reese will be talking to you in a little while. What we need to do now is get you X-rayed.”

“Can I talk to Mica first?”

“If it will keep her from running out again, yes. But she’ll have to come to you. I don’t want you moving around until I’ve seen your X-rays.”

“Okay. Whatever you say.”

“Let me finish looking at you, and then I’ll get her. Where else do you hurt?”

Flynn closed her eyes. “I think that’s about it.”

“That’s enough.”

Flynn nodded, saving her breath. Every inhalation was like swallowing fire, and her stomach, even though it was empty, was still in revolt. She did not want to vomit. All she wanted was to see Mica, but she knew that wasn’t going to happen unless she cooperated. The sooner she got her X-rays, the sooner she’d be able to see her. She needed to make sure Mica was all right, and she needed to make sure she didn’t disappear.

The trip to and from X-ray was an exercise in torture—every movement incited another surge of stabbing pain. Tory gave her some Percocet, and after a few minutes that started to help. Flynn concentrated on keeping her breathing even and her heart rate quiet. Prayer was like meditation for her, and after so many years, she could easily slip into that self-contained zone where mind and body existed on separate planes. The meditation helped dull the burning pain, but knowing she’d see Mica after the procedure helped even more.

Chris, who had volunteered to transport her to the X-ray bay, wheeled her back to the treatment room just as Tory came out of the room opposite.

“Mica?” Flynn asked.

“She’ll be over in a minute. I’m going to go read your films.” Tory nodded to Chris. “Thanks. I think you and Vince can take off.”

“Sure thing, Doc.” Chris leaned over the stretcher to Flynn. “You take it easy, you hear? I don’t want to see your face at work for a few days.”

“I’ll call the captain in the morning,” Flynn said.

“I’ll take care of it.” Chris squeezed Flynn’s shoulder. “Just get some rest.”

“Hey,” Mica said, sidling up to the stretcher. A red, angry swath of bruises encircled her neck. Fingerprints.

Flynn pictured the shadowy figure clamping an arm across Mica’s throat and dragging her away. She reached for Mica’s hand and when Mica immediately took hers, Flynn’s pounding pulse settled. “Did he hurt you?”

“Nah,” Mica said with a shrug. “He was too busy whaling on you.”

Flynn smiled. “I’m glad I could offer a diversion.”

Mica stroked Flynn’s arm, her dark eyes wide and worried. “He really did a number on you. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey. Not your fault.”

Mica bit her lip, looking as if she wanted to say something, but she remained quiet.

“When we get out of here,” Flynn said, “will you tell me what’s going on?”

Mica flicked her gaze to the door as if worried someone might overhear. “You don’t want to know. There’s nothing you can do and—well, you see what kind of trouble you can get into just being around me.”

Flynn gripped her fingers more firmly, sensing her wanting to withdraw. “You weren’t the one making the trouble. Don’t run out on me.”

“You ask a lot.”

“Do I? Do you mind?”

“I don’t know.” Mica frowned. “I just don’t want you getting hurt anymore.”

“Why don’t you let me worry about that.”

“Because you don’t seem to have much sense.”

Flynn smiled and tried not to laugh. She couldn’t breathe enough to laugh. “You know, you really make me feel special.”

Mica grinned. “Good.” She blushed. “’Cause, you know, you are.”

“Mica,” Flynn said seriously, “the police will want to talk to us. Can you do that?”

“Sure,” Mica said quickly. “Why not.”

Flynn recognized the bravado for what it was, an attempt to cover up her uncertainty. “I know these people. You can trust them.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“I wish…”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“Look, when this is over, I want you to come home with me.”

“Um, I think your timing needs a little work.”

“Not that way,” Flynn said. “I don’t think you ought to be alone. And besides, I’m not going to be very functional and I could use the company.”

Mica narrowed her eyes. “I think you’re playing me now.”

“Maybe. Is it working?”

“Maybe.” Mica ran her fingers through Flynn’s hair. “Maybe I feel a little bit sorry for you.”

“Thanks.” Flynn leaned her cheek against Mica’s palm, relieved that Mica had agreed to stay with her. Whoever the guy was, he was still out there, and Mica was vulnerable. She wasn’t going to let anyone hurt her.

Allie strode through the door. “Hey, Flynn. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” Flynn tugged Mica a little closer, afraid she would bolt. “A few bumps and bruises is all.”

“Uh-huh.” Allie didn’t look like she believed her, her cool gaze assessing Mica. “Dr. King said it would be okay if we got your statements now. I’ll take you,” she said to Mica, “first. Come with me.”

Mica glanced at Flynn, and Flynn nodded. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”

Wordlessly, Mica followed Allie from the room. Flynn fought down a wave of fear that she wouldn’t see Mica again. She tried telling herself she was overreacting, but she knew better. Sometimes people walked out the door and never came back.