High Country Nocturne

Chapter Thirty-eight

When I went in Lindsey’s room after seven the next morning, she was breathing on her own. The ventilator was still there, but the tube was out of her mouth. The gauze patches were off her eyes.

If anything had come from last night’s scheduled meeting in Scottsdale between “Matt Pennington” and the man on the phone, nobody had told me.

This was infinitely better than clearing a case. I sat and said, “Thank you, God.”

Thumbing through Emily Dickinson, I found what seemed appropriate: Angels In the Early Morning.

It was only eight lines. I read them with a slow, exhausted reverence.

“…the flowers they bear along.”

Those last words were in Lindsey’s voice.

I raised my head and saw those blue eyes I loved, looking at me.

“Dave, my chest hurts…a lot. What happened?”

“I’m going to get the nurses.”

She reached feebly and I took her hand.

“Wait. Stay with me, Dave. What happened to your eye? Where am I?”

“Mister Joe’s”

“What happened?”

“You were shot. Do you remember?”

Her eyes closed and my first reaction was fear, but the heart monitor was steady and her chest and rising and falling.

Her eyes fluttered open.

“It hurts, Dave. I remember…fajitas. And you went with the deputies…” Her voice was raspy and she licked her lips.

I was relieved. I had been so afraid her last memories would be of our terrible fight.

She said, “Wait. Where’s Peralta?”

“I haven’t found him yet.”

She struggled to keep her eyes open.

“You’ve got to find him. He’s in great danger. Pennington…”

I prompted. “Matt Pennington?”

She nodded. “While you were gone to see Meltdown, I did some searching. Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“He’s DEA. Pennington is.” She laughed and winced. “I sound like Yoda. Pennington is deep cover. Nobody but the top echelon of the agency knows.”

I thought about Ed Cartwright.

She struggled to get the words out. “Pennington is close to the cartels and handles diamond shipments. But it’s a cover. He’s active DEA. You’re crying, Dave.”

I had been too transfixed by Lindsey awake and talking to feel the tears running down my cheeks.

“My mouth is so dry.”

“Let me get a nurse,” I said. “I love you more than anything. I promise once we get through this we’ll live a different life. We’ll read books.” I was babbling.

She tried to smile. “Love you, too, Dave. I’m sorry I ruined your dark blue blazer. I know you liked it.”

“Lindsey, don’t worry about…”

Suddenly her words caught up with me. She had already fallen unconscious Saturday night by the time I thought of using the blazer to staunch the bleeding. She was out. I could barely feel a pulse.

I must not have heard her right.

She tightened her grip on my hand.

“I saw you pull it off and roll me to the side…put it under me. I was floating. Sounds crazy, right? And I saw your parents…and Robin and my mother. Dave, I saw our daughter. It was so sweet and I knew things were going to be all right.” She talked faster and faster, then dropped to a whisper. “You think I’m…” She searched for the word. “…hallucinating. I’m not. It was real. But I had to come back to you.”

“Thank you.”

In the next seconds, nurses were hovering.

“We need to control her pain,” one said.

“Dave,” Lindsey stroked my hand. “Find Peralta.”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

For the first time, she was able to look around and take in all the tubes, cables, and machines. That sweet, sardonic smile returned. “Doesn’t look like I’m going anywhere. I’ll be here…”

Then the pain med was flowing into the IV and she went back to sleep.