20

 

Jake

 

The water dribbled off the brim of Jake’s hat as he motioned with his flashlight for cars to move forward. Rain highlighted by headlights fell fast and plenty, flooding gutters and mucking up the effort to get everyone off of the field.

Traffic took on the stuff of nightmares with three fender-benders and a stuck bus full of rowdy musicians, so far.

Riley’s face flitted behind his eyes, and he smiled, eager to get back to her.

Jake shrugged in his slicker and eyed the swinging traffic light overhead. If the wind picked up any more strength he’d be dealing with downed phone lines and stripped roofs. A horn honked repeatedly a few cars down, and he squinted to see who had lost their patience. A weak honk, like the one on a kid’s toy car, sounded over and over in a frantic sputter.

He grabbed his radio from under his slicker, and pressed the talk button. “Rick, who is losing their mind along the south line of cars?”

“Hold on,” Rick’s garbled response came back. “It’s…”

The rest of the message got lost in static, Jake couldn’t make it out.

Jake sighed and waved a few more cars by. He heard the horn again and blew his breath out, frustrated. He brought his radio up again.

“Rick.”

“Yeah, uh, Sheriff,” The tension in Rick’s voice sent a flare of worry through Jake. “It’s Kale on his moped.”

“Well tell him to sit tight. He’s not going to get any wetter if he waits his turn—”

“No, Jake,” Rick interrupted. “He says it’s an emergency. He said it’s Riley.”

Five minutes later, landmarks blurred with rain whipped past, as Jake pushed the squad car faster down the dark road. The wipers were going full bore against the storm. His lights slashed the landscape into red and blue snapshots; Grover’s pond, the old Benson place, some cypress bending in the wind.

All he could think about was Riley and Girard’s tight words over the radio: “She’s unconscious, Jake. She’s bleeding—”

Jake grabbed the handset from the dash.

“What happened?” Jake heard himself shouting, heard the panic in his voice. “How bad?”

“We’re taking her in right now,” Girard yelled over the ambulance’s siren in the background. “We can’t find the wound. Where is all this blood coming from?” Girard yelled to someone.

“Girard,” Jake shouted. The mention of blood spiked his heart rate and he pushed the accelerator harder over the dirt road. “What’s going on?”

“She’s in shock; she won’t hold a beat—”

“Is she—”

“Get to the hospital, Jake. La Foudre Community, I don’t want to chance the drive to Thibodaux.” Static cracked up the last of Girard’s message, and then he was gone.

Jake banged his palm on the steering wheel willing the car to go faster. Next to him, Kale held onto the dash with gritted teeth, grunting as they flew over another rut and slammed down into the mud.

Jake hit a puddle and fish-tailed, wrestled the car under control, and sped back up; his lips set in a grim line.

“She left her cell in my pocket,” Kale said through grunts. “Her jacket wasn’t waterproof and she asked me to hold it. That’s why I came back.”

Jake nodded, looking at the gash on Kale’s head.

“You walked in on him?”

“He was on her, choking her.” Kale’s face contorted. “I’m so sorry, Jake.”

Jake’s hands curled on the wheel, squeezing, his throat closing. “Please, no,” he whispered.

She was so tiny, so small. He shot a look over to Kale, grateful. “I think you saved her life.”

They hit the dirt portion and Kale grimaced, grabbed onto the dash again, his other hand bouncing around as he tried to cover his forehead with bloody gauze. “Startled him, he came at me with one of those huge flashlights.”

Jake spied the turn-off, skidded around the bend, and hit the gas on the straightaway.

“Big guy, medium sized?”

“Tall guy, not too big though, like a runner.” Kale squinted, trying to think. “Kept yelling.”

Jake shot a look over at Kale. “What’d he say?”

“Same thing over and over, ‘What did he tell you? What do you know?’”

Anger surged up Jake’s spine and his breath hissed out.

This wasn’t a break in.

“I’ll need you write all that down; as soon as you can. At the hospital if you can manage.”

Up ahead, the parking lot lights of the hospital appeared.

“I will.”

Jake slid into the La Foudre Community Hospital’s parking lot and ran across the asphalt. He pushed through the swinging doors of the emergency room, his breath ragged.

Girard met him in the middle of the lobby, hands out ready to stop him.

Warm air sent Jake into an instant sweat as he looked towards the curtained exam rooms.

“Where is she?”

“She’s with Ikenson. They’re up in x-ray right now, you can’t—”

Jake stepped around him and ran to the elevator, punched the button, decided it was taking too long and took the stairs.

Girard followed him, panting to keep up.

He spied the x-ray room and strode towards the door, his pulse ramming in his head.

Please let her be all right, Lord.

Girard cut in front of him, his hands up.

“Move,” Jake growled, reaching for the handle.

“You’ll mess up the pictures, Jake,” Girard panted. “You want ‘em to take longer to help her?”

Hand around the knob, Jake stopped, his breathing hard. He peered in the window. A small clump of sheets lay on the x-ray table. His chest hurt thinking of her so still and crumpled under there.

“It’ll just be a few minutes, Jake.”

Walking away from the door, he paced back and forth, his eyes going to the blood on Girard’s shirt. Alarm pulsed through him. Had she been stabbed? Fear raced his thoughts.

“You said her h-heart?”

“She was in shock, her heart was having some trouble, but we got her stabilized en route. She took a blow to the head and has a cut.” Girard pointed to his jaw.

“But the blood…” the color drained from Jake’s face. Girard’s shirt was covered with deep crimson smudges. “Is she…?”

Girard looked down at his chest, and then up at Jake, shaking his head. “It’s not all hers.”

“What?”

“Not hers.” Girard shrugged. “We didn’t figure that out until we hit the emergency room and had a look. She had a bloody shard of mirror in her hand. She must’ve got him.”

A whisper of relief snaked through his mind. Not Riley’s blood. Jake nodded sharply, his eyes going to the still form in the x-ray room.

“That’s my girl.”

“She had some hair in her fingers, like she ripped it out of his head.” Girard held up his fingers. “Red.”

“The guy has red hair?”

“Looks like.” Girard shrugged. “They sent it to the hospital’s lab. It’s no crime lab, but they might find something. Everyone here’s pulling for her, Jake.”

Jakes gaze snapped to Girard, surprised. Lips pressed together in a thin line, he nodded quickly and turned away. He hadn’t expected that.

An hour later, Jake sat next to Riley’s bed and watched her even breaths. His gaze ran over her pale face and the angry red cut at her jaw. He felt fear and anger roil in his chest. He knew this would happen, knew it, and should have made her leave.

She hadn’t woken up. She hadn’t moved. Holding her hand, he stroked the soft skin of her knuckles and kissed her palm.

“S'il vous plaît, mon amour,” he whispered. “Come back to me.”