Chapter 21
21
Ryan
Blinking my eyes open, I squinted at the blinding sun shining down on me. A crushing weight on my chest made it hard to breathe, and it took a moment for me to realize it was Court. He was sprawled across me, his still body pining me to the hard ground.
Bits and pieces of the past few minutes played out in my mind.
Donnie arguing with someone.
A shot ringing out.
The man behind the wheel of the 4Runner.
Me hiding behind the stack of firewood.
More gunshots.
Then, the jarring impact of Court tackling me to the ground.
My pulse raced as I turned my head to glance at my surroundings. I had no idea if the guy I’d seen in the SUV was still around, and I couldn’t hear or see anything. I could only hope he fled because I didn’t have a way to protect us from someone with a weapon.
“Court. Are you hurt?” I whispered, shaking him gently. When he didn’t respond, I shook him harder. “Come on, man. Answer me.” Nothing. Dread clawed at my throat, and it felt as though my heart might explode out of my chest.
“Oh my god!” Morgan’s panicked voice cut through my own fear. “I heard gunshots. What happened?”
“Go inside and call 911!” I shouted as I somehow found the strength to roll Court off me.
A trickle of blood dripped from a small gash on his temple, and the sleeve of his light gray T-shirt was now stained red. I pushed up the fabric and my stomach churned. A chunk of flesh was missing from the side of his shoulder. It wasn’t a gaping hole like I would expect a gunshot wound to look like, but what the hell else could it be?
I picked up Morgan’s bikini from the ground and pressed it to the wound with shaking hands. Tears streamed down my face, as I tried to hold it together so I could help him. “Court, you have to wake up!”
“Did he get shot? Where’s Donnie? Are you okay?” Her frantic questions blurred together as she rushed toward me instead of going inside like I’d instructed.
“Morgan, inside! Now!” My words came out harsh, but I didn’t know if it was safe for her to be outside. Besides, we needed an ambulance.
But she didn’t move toward the cabin. Instead, she began spinning in place like she was trying to figure out what was going on.
“Where’s Donnie?” she repeated.
“I said go?—”
“No!” A gut-wrenching scream tore from her throat as she began to run.
I couldn’t look to see what she was doing. I didn’t know what sort of condition Donnie was in, but my focus was entirely on Court lying unconscious on the ground. Why wasn’t he waking up? I felt around for my phone so I could call 911, only to once again remember I didn’t have it with me.
“I need you to open your eyes,” I pleaded again and continued looking him over for any other injuries I may have missed. That’s when I saw the gun lying on the ground beside us.
Did Court have a gun?
Everything about the last few minutes felt like a fever dream—or rather a nightmare—where nothing made sense.
My breath caught as I heard sirens again. Had my sister managed to call for help and I hadn’t realized it? Or were the ones I heard in the distance earlier getting closer?
“Morgan?” I made sure my tone was softer this time.
“Donnie’s not moving and he’s covered in blood,” she wailed.
The sound cut through me, leaving me torn in two. I couldn’t help both of them. While I continued to hold pressure to the gunshot on Court’s arm with one hand, I brushed his hair back from the wound on his head with the other.
The sirens grew closer, and tires crunched over the gravel driveway. “Help is coming,” I whispered.
Court stirred, and his eyelids fluttered open. Our gazes connected immediately, and relief coursed through me. He lifted his uninjured arm and cupped my cheek. “I’m so sorry, Ryan.”
What did he have to be sorry for? He’d pushed me out of the way and taken a bullet for me, likely saving my life.
“What do you mean?” Instead of answering, he seemed to slip back into unconsciousness. “Open your eyes, Court. Talk to me,” I begged.
The echo of boots rushing across the ground filled the air. “Everyone, show me your hands!” a voice demanded.
Before I could react, someone grabbed my arms from behind and yanked me back.
“Wait! He’s hurt and needs help,” I shouted, twisting to look at Court.
“Sir, step away,” the officer holding me ordered.
Another officer crouched beside Court and spoke into his radio. “Unit 23 requesting back up and EMS.”
Nearby, another officer called out, “I’ve got two deceased over here.”
Two deceased? It had to be Donnie and the other guy I’d seen.
Oh shit. Donnie’s dead.
Morgan’s sobs pulled my attention in her direction, and I wanted to run over and comfort her, but couldn’t. A third officer was helping her off the ground as she continued to weep.
“Ma’am, we need you to calm down,” ordered the officer holding onto her arm.
“What’s happening?” I asked, my voice wavering.
“Come talk with me until we figure out what’s going on,” he replied, pulling me farther away from Court. We stepped onto the porch and then he said, “Now tell me what happened.”
I explained that Court had been shot but it was hard to focus on anything else as my eyes remained glued to where he lay motionless while an officer tended to him. More police descended on the property and began securing the scene.
The cop I was speaking with asked me to wait where I was, and he stepped aside to talk to another officer. When he came back, he said, “We’re going to have to take you and your sister to the station for more questioning.”
“Questioning?” I repeated. “What about him?” I pointed to Court.
“We’ll update you as soon as we know anything,” the policeman said.
The helplessness I’d been feeling worsened as they led Morgan and me toward separate squad cars. Her hunched shoulders shook as she sobbed, and I knew it was likely she wasn’t thinking clearly, so I called out to her, “Morgan! Don’t say anything until we call Dad.”
If we had learned anything from having a criminal defense attorney as a father, it was never to answer questions from law enforcement without a lawyer present, even if we didn’t have anything to hide.
She nodded weakly and got into the backseat of the car. The officer holding me gestured for me to move toward another cop car. My legs felt heavy as I made my way over. Before sliding inside, I turned around, straining for one more look at Court.
A policeman was still crouched beside him, applying pressure to his wound, but I saw no sign of an ambulance yet.
“Please let him be okay,” I muttered as I sank into the seat, the door closing behind me. The words tumbled out again, and I repeated them over and over until we reached the police station.
When I first saw the tiny police station, I remembered we weren’t in a large city like Boston. Inside, they only had one interview room where Morgan was taken right away. Meanwhile, they had me wait in what looked like a cross between a break room and a storage closet, with a vending machine on one side and boxes and cleaning supplies on the other.
I sat at the small metal table in the middle of the room, my leg bouncing uncontrollably. I stared at my hands in my lap, and the sight of dried blood—Court’s blood—on my hands and T-shirt had me on the verge of losing it.
I’d witnessed a murder and yet my brain could only focus on the man I was dating. Was he still unconscious? Did they get him to the hospital in time? Not knowing was unbearable, and I couldn’t wait to leave so I could go to him.
The door creaked open, snapping me out of my spiraling thoughts. A woman I didn’t recognize stepped inside. “Mr. Ashford, I’m Detective Jensen,” she said, pulling out a chair and sitting across from me. “How are you doing?”
“Not great,” I admitted. “Do you know anything about Courtland West? He was the one injured. Is he okay?”
Her expression softened slightly. “The last I heard he was stable when they transported him to the hospital.”
“Thank you,” I breathed. Her words offered me a sliver of hope, but it wasn’t enough. I needed to see him, so I could be sure he was okay.
Slipping back into professional mode, she nodded and crossed her arms over her chest. “You said you wanted to wait for your attorney, but it’ll probably be another hour before he’s here if he’s coming from Boston. We could just ask you a few questions now, and then you could leave.”
As tempting as it was to get the questioning over with, I didn’t want to say or do anything that could potentially get anyone in trouble. After all, I’d seen the gun near Court when the cops had arrived. “I’d like to wait.”
She frowned but didn’t push. “Okay. We’ll bring your attorney in when he arrives.”
I slumped back in my chair and glanced at the clock. Time needed to move faster.
When the door opened again, I hoped to see my father walk in, but it was Detective Jensen again.
“Your attorney is here, so we’re going to move you over to the interrogation room.”
“Okay.” I stood and followed her to the room on the other side of the station.
“I’ll give you a moment to speak with him alone.”
As soon as I walked inside, Dad rushed over and pulled me in for a hug. “Are you all right?”
I shook my head. Suddenly, the weight of everything came crashing down on me, and although I was a grown man, I took comfort in my father being there for me. “Everything’s a giant clusterfuck, and I don’t even understand what all happened. How’s Morgan holding up? The cops said two people were dead, and one of them was Donnie.”
He stepped back. “Yeah, the police confirmed he was killed. She’s pretty shaken up, but we’ll help her through this. Since she didn’t have much information for the police, Declan’s sitting with her in the lobby so I could be with you during questioning.”
“Okay.”
“But there’s something else you should know before the detective comes in. The police ID’d the other guy who was shot and killed.” He took a breath. “It was Joseph Hughes.”
“What?” I balked. “Why would he have been at the cabin?”
“That’s something the police are trying to figure out. From what they’ve gathered so far, Donnie’s mother was dating Joseph. He was also the previous owner of Donnie’s club. Now, I need you to tell me everything you remember.”
Holy shit! Things keep getting stranger and stranger.
Several hours after arriving at the police station, I’d gone over every single detail with Dad and then sat for a formal interview with detectives and submitted to a gunshot residue swab. By the time they said I was free to go, I had answered all of their questions but had plenty more of my own.
After taking a few minutes to clean up in the restroom, I met up with Detective Jensen in the lobby.
“Thank you for your cooperation.” She shook my hand. “This is an active investigation, and since it involves a federal inmate who was responsible for crimes against the president’s family, several agencies are involved. We, as well as the FBI or Secret Service, may need to follow up with you over the next few days.”
“Okay.” I took the business card she offered. “Do you happen to know where the paramedics took Court?”
Her expression remained neutral. “I’m afraid I can’t share that information.”
“Do you at least have an update on his condition?”
She shook her head. “Not at this time.”
“Thanks anyway,” I grumbled and headed outside with Dad, Morgan, and Declan.
Morgan and I slid into the backseat of Dad’s SUV while Declan got in front with Dad. Morgan leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes. She hadn’t said a word since I’d come out of my interview. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she looked absolutely exhausted. I rubbed her shoulder in an effort to comfort her, and I hoped she knew she could talk to me when she felt ready.
“Shit.” I sighed. “Can I borrow one of your phones? Mine is in Court’s car, and I want to call around to see if I can find him.”
“You might not be able to reach him if he’s being detained.” Dad glanced at me through the rearview mirror.
“What?” My stomach dropped.
“Cops found a gun near him when they arrived. They could be holding him for questioning, or worse, they could arrest him for murder. Even if he’s in the hospital, he could technically be in police custody.”
My head started spinning. “But I think he was trying to protect me. They wouldn’t charge him with murder for that, right? Wouldn’t it be self-defense or something?”
“I’m not saying he wouldn’t have a defense. It’s just you might not be able to reach him right now.” Dad sounded resigned.
“I have to try.”
“Here. Use my phone.” Declan handed me his. “But why don’t you call Court’s number first?”
“I don’t have it memorized.” I made a mental note to do that once I somehow got my phone back.
Declan’s phone in hand, I searched for nearby hospitals and started making calls, but each conversation ended the same way. No one had a record of a patient named Courtland West, and my frustration grew with every dead end.
After the fifth hospital, I groaned and gave the phone back. “Nothing. Either he’s not at any of the hospitals between here and Boston, or you’re right and the police are holding him.”
“We can’t do anything else tonight, and I need to get your sister home,” Dad said. “How about we head to my place? I’ll get up first thing in the morning and see if I can get some more information about Court.”
“You’ll help if they decide to press charges, right?” If Court was going to face prosecution for something he did to help me, the least I could do was make sure the best criminal defense attorney in the area was on his side.
“I’ll do whatever needs to be done. He’s really important to you, isn’t he?”
“He is.”