Backup arrived.
Dawson had never been so happy to see fellow law enforcement officers. And they came running. A pair who looked opposite in every way possible came bolting toward him and Runner.
“Marshal O’Connor, sir, I’d be honored to help you with this suspect,” the first one said. He was on the short side. Dawson would guess him to be in his early twenties. What he lacked in height he made up for in brawn. He had the body of a world-class gymnast. His nameplate read Smith.
“Be my guest.” Dawson moved back enough to lean the back of his head on the nearest building to try to catch his breath. Every place he’d been kicked, punched or jabbed was waking up, making its presence known, bringing all kinds of pain to the forefront. He couldn’t focus on any of that right now. “I had to leave behind my...” Words failed him on exactly how to describe his relationship to Summer. He decided on, “Girlfriend and an office worker at an apartment complex. One of them was shot and I don’t know how bad the injury is. Do you—”
The second officer, Jenkins, was tall with dark skin and a mustache. He was nodding his head. “We’ve been following along on the radio. One of the victims was taken to the hospital by ambulance, the GSW. The other is giving her statement to a colleague, Officer Williams.”
“Is there a way I can talk to her?” Dawson needed to hear Summer’s voice. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he needed to know she was all right. Hells bells, O’Connor. The reason was obvious. He loved her. He wanted to know she was all right because the thought of losing her knocked him in the chest so hard he couldn’t breathe.
“I can call Officer Williams,” Jenkins offered.
Dawson nodded.
“What’s your name, sir?” Officer Smith asked Runner.
Apparently, the guy was invoking his right to remain silent.
“He didn’t talk for me, either,” Dawson said as he watched Jenkins make the call.
When the officer turned the phone over, Dawson immediately listened for Summer’s voice.
“Dawson, are you there?” Her voice was like velvet.
“I’m here.” He took a second to breathe as relief flooded him. Hearing her voice set things right inside him that he didn’t realize had been broken. “I heard Marcy’s on her way to the hospital.”
“She looked pretty bad, Dawson. There was so much blood and then the skinny guy from—”
“Hold on a second. What skinny guy?” All his internal alarm bells sounded. The thought he’d left them alone and vulnerable tightened the knot in his gut. And then it dawned on him who she was talking about. The two guys who’d chased her were nicknamed Scrappy and Thick Guy. “The one from a few days ago?”
“Yes—”
“Are you hurt?” Fire raged through him at the thought.
“No. I’m okay. A couple of bumps and bruises, a bloody nose... I’m just worried about Marcy. She lost a lot of blood.”
“I’ll pick you up as soon as I’m cleared here. Did they say which hospital she was going to?” he asked.
“No. I forgot to ask. The EMTs got going with her really fast. She was so pale,” she said, and he heard the worry in her voice.
“I can find out. I’m on my way to my vehicle right now.” He pushed up to standing. “I’ll see if an officer can stay with you until I get there.”
“Okay.” There was hesitation in her voice. This wasn’t the right time to tell her how he felt about her. Not while Marcy was in a hospital fighting for her life. “Dawson...”
“Yeah?”
“I—uh...never mind. I guess I’ll see you in a few minutes,” she said. He needed to ask what that was all about but everything could wait until they got a status update on Marcy.
Plus, he needed to get to her. He needed to hold her in his arms. He needed to be her comfort.
And he hoped like hell she needed the same from him.
“I’ll be there as fast as I can.” Dawson had caught his breath and his truck was in good shape. He could jog back to his ride and get to her inside of fifteen to twenty minutes if the roads were clear.
“I’ll see you soon.” Summer ended the call.
Dawson turned to Officers Jenkins and Smith. “Can you guys handle this from here? I need to pick up my...someone and get her to the hospital to check on our friend. I’ll be there for a little while if you want to swing by for my statement. Or, I can come down to the station.”
Jenkins was already shaking his head.
“No, sir. You go take care of your friend. We got this suspect from here.”
“Thank you.” He’d never meant those pair of words more. He took off back toward his truck and started feeling the effects of the fight with Runner.
This guy refused to identify himself. He carried no ID. One look at him said he had plenty of money to smooth over any bumps in the road.
The fact the evidence against him was all circumstantial burned Dawson’s gut. A sympathetic jury pool would acquit in a heartbeat. If the runner was powerful enough to have a detective leave her job and someone killed in county lockup, he could find a way out of this.
Dawson made it to his vehicle, thankfully right where he left it. He fished keys out of his pocket and slid into the driver’s seat. He navigated back onto the road and backtracked using his GPS.
His pulse galloped the entire ride back to the apartment complex. He pulled up to the scene where a female officer stood outside her squad car, arms folded as she talked to Summer.
The second Summer locked gazes with him, she started toward him. He didn’t bother parking, he just stopped in the middle of the lot. He wasn’t concerned about turning off his truck, either.
All he wanted was to feel Summer in his arms where she belonged. Dawson had never felt home in another person before Summer.
And the world righted itself for just a moment when she buried her face in his chest. He looped his arms around her and she pressed her body flush with his.
This was what love was supposed to be. Not obligation. It was supposed to feel like this, like he didn’t want to spend another day without her in his arms.
Even though she’d ran straight to him and held on to him like there would be no tomorrow, he had no idea if she needed a friend or if she needed him. Big difference.
Dawson would take whatever she was willing to give. But first, they had to get to the hospital and check on Marcy.
Officer Williams walked over and introduced herself. Dawson thanked her for staying with Summer.
“You’re welcome, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Officer Williams had stars in her eyes when she looked at him. Other departments gave him a healthy amount of respect and he appreciated them for it. His division prided themselves on cooperating with other agencies and it had bought them a helluva lot of good will over the years.
“Take care,” he said as he walked with Summer to the truck. She climbed in on the driver’s side and scooted to the middle of the bench seat. She seemed to need physical contact as much as he did. He hoped that was a good sign.
He also had bad news to deliver but that could wait until they checked on Marcy.
THE HOSPITAL WAS a ten-minute drive that took twenty in traffic. Summer sat scooted up against Dawson, thigh to thigh. Her heart had fisted when she’d seen his face and then relief flooded her that they were both alive.
“I just realized something. We don’t even know Marcy’s last name,” she said to Dawson.
He gripped the steering wheel as he navigated through the heavy traffic. “I can get us past the lobby with my badge. I’m guessing there aren’t a whole lot of GSWs in the middle of the day at the hospital.”
“GSW?” She had no clue what that meant.
“Gunshot wound.” His reply was low and reverent.
“Oh.” Those weren’t exactly her favorite words to hear right now. Seeing the scared look on Marcy’s face would haunt Summer long after this ordeal was over. She leaned into Dawson, drawing as much strength from him as she could. Her body started shaking and she imagined it was because her adrenaline finally wore off.
Exhaustion hit like a motorcycle going a hundred miles an hour and then slamming into a wall.
Dawson pulled into the ER bay and parked. He threw his shoulder into the door to open it and grunted. She realized he must’ve taken a few blows. His face was perfect unlike hers. Officer Williams had given Summer a few wipes while they waited for Dawson.
Summer was able to wipe off the blood, but her busted lip couldn’t be cleaned so easily. That was sticking around.
He opened the door before helping her step out of the truck. As soon as her shoes hit concrete, he blew out a breath and then kissed her. His lips were gentle on hers but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a sizzle below the surface.
He locked gazes, holding for just a few seconds before linking their fingers together and heading inside the ER.
With his free hand, he pulled out his wallet and flashed his badge. “You had a GSW come in during the last hour via ambulance.”
The nurse at the intake station was already nodding her head. “There’s a waiting room through those doors, all the way down the hall and to the left. I’ll update the file to let the doctor know you’re waiting.”
“Thank you,” was all Dawson said before heading down the hall.
The waiting room was small. There were only about a dozen chairs. Everything was blue. The chairs, the carpet, the curtains. The wallpaper had hints of blue. None of which mattered because all she cared about was Marcy being well cared for.
There was coffee. She and Dawson seemed to notice it at the same time because they both made a move in that direction.
He poured two cups and handed one over. She took a few sips, welcoming the burn on her throat.
“Do you want to sit or stand?” he asked.
“I’m not sure my legs can hold me up much longer.” She wasn’t kidding. The past few days had caught up to her and she could barely stand. She also glanced down at her shirt and realized she must be a sight.
A nurse stepped inside the room and identified herself as Ramona. She was late thirties, with kind eyes and a round face.
“I brought you something to change into if you’d like,” she said to Summer, holding out a shirt that looked like scrubs.
“Thank you.” Summer took the offering and hit the bathroom. She washed off more of the blood and splashed cold water on her face.
“She’s in surgery but the outlook is good,” Dawson said as soon as Summer returned. Ramona had already left.
“That’s great news.” Summer reclaimed her seat and took another sip of coffee, anything to wake her up.
He nodded. Then said, “There’s not so good news about the case.”
Dawson’s serious expression sent a wave of panic rippling through her.
“What is it?” Bad news only got worse with age.
He explained the situation with the guy he called Runner, and her heart literally sank.
“Marcy can ID him. He came to the apartment complex to go through my sister’s personal belongings,” she said.
“Won’t make a difference. It’s all circumstantial evidence. We don’t have anything directly linking this guy to the murders. Our Runner did try to kill a US marshal and that should be enough to jail him for a long time. And Scrappy tried to kill Marcy and Summer. The police officers in the shed are witnesses, as well.” There was so much frustration in his voice. “With a good lawyer, he could get out of jail in a few hours.”
“Even though he shot at a US marshal?”
“Trust me, an expensive lawyer could create doubt.” Dawson issued a sharp sigh. “That’s how the legal system works.”
“Well, that’s messed up.”
“At times, it is. Most of the time, though, it works. That’s why I still do this job,” he explained.
“We need proof that he’s tied to my sister or Cheryl.” She sat up straighter and took another sip of coffee. It was strong and black.
“I’d hoped we would find something in your sister’s personal effects.”
“But he got there first.” Of course, he had. The bastard.