Truth Avenged (Green Division Series Book 1) (8 page)

He put his hand on t
he door before Chance could beat him to the draw to close it.

“
I can’t leave in good conscience knowing you are feeding me a line of bullshit, excuse my language.” 

He
is too damn intuitive
, Chance thought.  She stared at the ground. 

“
Come on, I’ll give you a ride.  It’ll be fine, you’ve survived worse.”  He tried to draw her eyes back to him.  “Much worse.  This is nothing.”

“
Easy for you to say.  You won‘t be the one they are driving a needle in and sewing back together.”  She gave him a slightly annoyed look.  He raised a brow at her and then removed his hat nonchalantly, running his hand over his close cropped hair.

“
True.  I don’t know much about stitches.”  He pretended to cough and angled his face away from her.  She gasped audibly and averted her eyes.

His point was lost.  He didn
’t intend to horrify her during their friendly banter, but that was what he’d succeeded in doing. Moisture welled at the corner of her eyes.  She would not cry, she would not cry.  “I, I—” The ability to form a complete thought eluded her.  “I’m sorry.”  His staples were a reminder of everything that happened, all of which she could repress, but not at that moment.  Not at the sight of his ghastly wound.  She retreated inside.

“
Chance?”  He peered in through the doorway, but she’d gone into the living room out of sight.

She dropped onto the couch, head in
to hands, and closed her eyes.  She hadn’t broken down in front of anyone and didn’t want him of all people to see her at her worst, again.  She quelled the tears.  She’d occupied her mind with the obsession of the plane, drowning out all memories of the shooting until she was behind closed doors with nothing else to occupy her.

“
Chance—” He entered without invitation and peered in the living room.  She wiped her eyes before the tears could run down her cheek. 

“
I ah, I wanted to change my shoes, my feet hurt.”  Really, that was the best she could think of?   She rolled her eyes in disgust for her lameness.  He would see through that lie.  He took a seat next to her, leaving a comfortable amount of space between them.

“
I didn’t mean to upset you.”  The professional line dissolved more and more.

“
You have that because of me.  I’m sorry.”  She spoke of the staples.

“
No, I have it because of the piece of shit who did that to you. You do know that none of this—the shooting, my little scratch—none of it is your fault.  You talk as though you are responsible.  Stop apologizing for things you have no reason, or responsibility to apologize for.”  His words were firm. 

She clasped
her hands together in her lap and expelled a deep breath.  “You should go.”  Before she broke down completely.  Once he left she could compose herself and drown out the nightmare.  The feeling of the barrel of the gun on the back of her head flashed through her memory even though she tried to keep it at bay. 

He didn
’t move.  Tuck knew she wasn’t holding back tears because her side hurt.  She was in full blown defense mode.

“
Do you want to talk?”

“
No.”  She rose to her feet, walked back to the kitchen, and opened the door.  He followed her.  “Please leave.  Thank you again, but please go.”

Tuck was torn between trying to console her and leaving as she demanded.  He didn
’t know her, but knew enough.  She was a tough case.  Strong, independent, and unwilling to lose her composure in front of him.  But underneath her exterior, she was an end stage game of Jenga, on the verge of collapse.

She leaned her head against the corner of the door.  “
Tuck.”  Her voice a mere whisper.  “I asked you to leave.”  She refused to look at him.  He stepped closer, no more than a foot away.

“
Something I said triggered you to make you this upset.  You need to talk to someone—your family, a friend, Paul.” 
Ugh, Paul.

She walked outside and stood in the crisp dusk air. 
Trigger
.  Not the best term to use Tuck thought in hindsight.  She wrapped her arms around her center.   

“
Your job is over warden.”  He walked beside her. “Talking isn’t going to change what happened.  It’s not going to ward off the nightmares.” 

She hesitated knowi
ng she'd already said too much.

“
You don’t understand.” 
Leave
.  She couldn’t hide her basket-case-edness much longer.

“
You shouldn’t be alone, not with everything that’s happened.  Why did your family leave so soon?”

“
I asked them to.  I can’t stand being hovered over and treated like a cripple.  I’m able to take care of myself.  Just like you didn’t need to waste your afternoon hiking to rescue me.  That’s the kind of shit I’m talking about.  People worrying when they shouldn’t.  I don’t want them to worry about me.”

“
The people who love you are going to worry when you put yourself in danger.  And they would worry if they knew under that tough impossible exterior, you were scared, alone, hurt.  Let someone help you.  You’re not alone.”

“
I sure as hell feel it.” 
Shit
.  She’d done it now.  She drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes. 

“
You’re not alone.”  Tuck pulled her into his arms.  “You’re safe.”  

“
How do you know that?  He’s still out there.”

“
We’ll find him.”

“
Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” 

“
You know I keep my promises.”  He had thus far.  “I won’t let him hurt you.”

She settled into his chest and rested her head in the crook of his neck. 
For the first time in a week she felt comforted and protected.  If only she could feel this content when she fought for sleep.

The line his sergeant had warned about was G-O-N-E.  To quote the artists Big and Rich, it was:
“Gone like a freight train, gone like yesterday, gone like a solider in the Civil War bang bang.”  One hundred percent dissolved.

Wr
apped in one another’s arms, they stood as dusk fully set and darkness surrounded them.  The tension in her body lifted.  Her weight fully rested against him.  She could stay wrapped in his arms all night.

He pulled back slightly and she lifted her head fr
om his shoulder.  “Are you done fighting with me about going to the ER?”

“
It’s a losing battle.”  She conceded.

“
Is Amy on her way over here?”  He knew the answer.

Ummm.”

“Come on.”

He walked beside her and opened the door
to his new Chevy pickup.  Why was it everyone had big damn trucks that were painful to step into?  The ride over was quiet, but not uncomfortable.  Country music broke the silence. 

They arrived at the Band-Aid station forty minutes later.  The ER was quiet, only two other people in th
e waiting room.

“
Chance Phillips.”  The triage nurse walked into the waiting room.  Both Chance and Tuck stood. 

“
Follow me.”  The nurse motioned.  Chance’s feet didn’t move.  God, she didn’t want to do this again.  “Miss Phillips?” 

She reluctantly fol
lowed leaving Tuck at the doorway of the waiting room.

*****

Tuck waited for the second time in a week in a dank hospital waiting room.  He would prefer not to occupy these seats again anytime in the foreseeable future.  He’d left his phone in the truck, or he would have entertained himself with that.  Instead he read a dated worn magazine on the table at the center of the room.  After forty minutes of waiting, a rough looking man walked to the opposite side of the room in dirty clothes with a woman who looked no better.

“
Hey.”  The man called.  “You look familiar.  Do I know you?”

He
’d dealt with him before in the past.  What was his name?

“
I don’t believe so.”  Tuck responded.

“
What’s your name?” 

Tuck ignored the question and retrieved a Pepsi from th
e vending machine.  He needed a charge of caffeine and didn’t want to make small talk with this dirt bag.  He sat back down and guzzled the soda.

“
I said, what’s your name?”  The man leaned forward in his chair baring all two of his teeth.  He had pock marks of a meth user and the antsy behavior to match.

“
I don’t know you.”  Tuck leaned back into the chair and crossed his legs.

“
Then tell me your name, boy.”

This man
egged Tuck for problems.  He didn’t want to deal with it. 

“
James Redding.”  He fed the man the first bullshit name that popped in his head.  “And what is yours, sir?”

“
None of your concern.”  The man sized Tuck up.

Tuck racked his bra
in.  What the hell was his name? 
Think, think, think
. 

Darren Caldwell
.

“
Why are you here?”  Darren’s small talk was accusatory, not friendly.

“
The same reason anyone is.  Why are you here?”  He could tell it was because the large grease covered woman next to him had cut her hand, a dirty rag covered it.

“
None of your concern either.”

Tuck left the pleasant sur
roundings of the waiting room and walked to the intake desk.

“
Can I use your phone, please?”

“
There is a payphone in the lobby.”  The intake worker didn’t bother to lift her head. 

Thanks for the help
.  Tuck didn’t normally play the law enforcement card, but he didn’t want to walk clear across the hospital lot to get his cell phone.  He pulled out his wallet and showed her his badge.

“
Can I use your phone?  I’d use my cell but it’s across the parking lot and this is time sensitive.” 

She picked up her ph
one.  “What’s the number?” 

Tuck relayed it.  She passed him the phone.

“Department of Public Safety.”  Kevin, the Green dispatcher, chirped friendly as ever.

“
Kevin, do you ever have a day off?”

“
Living the dream man.  How the hell are you?  I heard you got pretty messed up on that rescue.”

“
Nothing a couple of staples didn’t fix.”

“
Jesus.”

“
Can you do me a favor?  Run Darren Caldwell, about thirty five years old, see if he has any warrants.”

Kevin typed away on his computer.

“We have….one for unpaid fines and fees…one for unpaid fine and fees….one for more unpaid fines and fees.  Hmmm, see a trend here?  He’s got about $1800 bail on all three warrants.  Nice.”

“
He’s here in the waiting room of Newall Hospital.  Do you have their dispatch’s number?”

“
Give me some credit, of course I do.  I’ll connect you with ‘em, hold on.”

Tuck spoke with their dispatch center and they
sent a pair of Newall officers whom arrived less than ten minutes later.  Tuck waited outside the ER entrance door and greeted officers Jensen and Tyrone.  They followed Tuck to the waiting room where he nodded in the dirt bag's direction.  They too were familiar with him.

“
Darren.”  Tyrone approached him on the left, Jensen on the right.  Tuck stayed at the waiting room entrance.  “What are you up to tonight?”

“
I fucking knew it!”  He stood and pointed his finger at Tuck.  “You dirty fucking pig!”

"Are you here for treatment?"  Tyrone asked.

"I’m fucking here because my wife cut her hand and needs stitches, can’t you pigs leave me alone!"

“
Darren, make this easy on yourself. Don’t make a scene.  We have three warrants for your arrest for unpaid fines.  Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”  Tyrone ordered nicely.

“
Fuck you.”  He puffed his chest out. 

“
Last warning, turn around, hands behind your back.”  Jensen warned.

“
Fuck you!  If you want me, here I am!  Come fucking get me!”  He hit his chest with a balled up fist mimicking a gorilla.

“
Have it your way.”  Tyrone said.

Darren tried to charge his way through them.  Jensen and T
yrone scuffled with him, Tuck joining in the fray.  Chance came out from the exam area to see them rolling around on the floor together.