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Noah winced as he slipped his arms through a new shirt. The nurse fitted the brace over his left wrist and snugged it tight with the straps. They had to wait for the swelling to recede before a permanent cast. That was something Noah wanted to avoid if possible. The brace stabilized the wrist and could be removed for showering—eight to ten weeks to heal. It could have been worse. He’d take a broken wrist and road rash. The goose egg on the back of his head went down with an icepack but left a headache.
The Virginia State Police swarmed the area and originally had him facedown in the dirt and handcuffed Dickinson until they could sort out the scene. Once they had verified the police badge and identification for them both, the cuffs were removed. They had over thirty witnesses with dozens of angles of video. A trooper rode in the back of the ambulance with Noah to the urgent care center—a four-minute drive.
The care center was the size of an Arrow Point clinic, but inside they had everything a hospital had, from X-rays and ultrasounds to a surgical room. Long as you had approved insurance, or the ability to pay, you could receive the best care without waiting.
Noah avoided the awkward questions and handed over the credit card. “Fix me up.”
Noah gave his statement as the nurse picked stones and dirt out of his upper back. He was traveling north with his partner when they saw the accident. They were about to help when the man produced a shotgun and killed the police officers. He tried to apprehend the shooter, but things had taken a turn for the worse.
The young officer nodded. “I’ve known those men for my entire career. Even trying to help is appreciated.”
“Sorry, I couldn’t have gotten there sooner.”
“Your weapons have been processed. Once you are done here, come by the station and pick them up. My sergeant wants you to go over the witness timeline if you can.”
Noah knew firsthand about the timelines. If you get twenty people to report what happened, you will have almost twenty different versions. Having an official accounting from a police officer or two would make a difference. Off duty or not, Noah would help.
“Not a problem.”
Dickinson gave her statement on scene and had driven to the care center once released. She handed the nurse a new shirt for Noah and his missing shoe. The officer left, and the nurse finished with his back and applied bandages.
She fitted a black cloth sling over his head and gave him instructions. “Keep the arm elevated, and apply a cold compress. Over the next day, the swelling will go down, and make sure to tighten the straps.”
His wrist had doubled in size, and while he could move the fingers, it was painful. There was a distal radius fracture, lengthwise along the bone. The nurse handed him a small white paper bag with pain medication and something to help him sleep, along with an ointment for his back.
Noah saw concern in Angie’s eye when he walked into the lobby. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll be good in six weeks or so. It could have been worse. Thank you for saving me.”
She looked at the sling and winced. “I didn’t do too good of a job.”
“I’m breathing. Far as I’m concerned, that’s a good thing.” From the accident to the police arriving after the truck had left, it was less than three minutes. Giving statements and the hospital visit was three hours, and Noah was exhausted. “We have to stop by the detachment to pick up the pistols and to verify the timeline of actions.”
“I’m driving. Don’t even think of it.” Dickinson stepped outside and opened the passenger door for him.
Once he buckled in, Angie climbed behind the wheel and turned to face him. “I didn’t want to say anything inside, but what do you think about the accident and shootout?”
Noah took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “It’s been bothering me. The woman ended up helping the shooter. It doesn’t make any sense.”
Angie nodded. “I’ve thought about it, and it seems the woman was working with him. The moves were coordinated.”
“Then why the accident in the first place?”
She nodded toward the glovebox, and Noah opened it. Her cell phone was inside with the battery removed. “What do you say about coincidences?”
Noah leaned back against the headrest and went through the day and each event. “I have nothing that can track me. If they were tracking you, that would make the whole accident a trap. What about the state troopers?”
Dickinson started the Navigator and buckled in. “Wrong place, wrong time.”
Before she could place the vehicle in gear, Noah asked, “Do you still want to go on? I wouldn’t blame you for wanting out at this point.”
Angie rolled her eyes. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? We’re partners. Let’s get this over with and get out of here. I’m starting to hate this town.”