CHAPTER 7
Devlin helped the young man back into bed, took a moment to examine his throat for damage, then excused himself and left through the curtain. Clint followed him.
“Thank you,” the woman’s weak, trembling voice stopped him at the curtain.
Clint looked at her.
“Thank you.” Her words quaked beneath her quiet sobs. “For saving my son.” The boy sat on the bed, legs drawn up, his face buried in his knees, crying as he gripped fistfuls of his hair.
Swallowing hard, Clint nodded and started to leave when she spoke again.
“You… You were the one at our apartment,” she whispered with a tremor. “Why…?”
A low breath escaped him. “Wrong address,” he mumbled.
“I was looking for… someone else.” She didn‘t believe him; it was evident on her face. But she didn’t press him.
Clint left and found Axel sitting in one of the plastic chairs in the corridor.
He leaned forward, head down, his hands clamped behind his neck.
Tremors ran through his body. Clint reached for him when, down the corridor, Detective Jordan entered the ER through the waiting room doors. He spotted Clint and headed his way.
“I’m sorry for the delay,” he apologized. “I had to wait for Frank’s sister, Vanessa, to come over so she could watch Tad.” He looked at Axel, still hunched in the chair. “Is he all right?”
“No.” Clint lifted his cowboy hat and ran a hand through his hair, then explained the latest incident with the father.
“I don’t approve of what he did, but if he’s arrested and taken away from his wife, after they just lost their child…
” He shook his head. “I don’t think she’ll hold up, not on her own.
” He rubbed his face. “It’s fucked up,” he mumbled.
“Neither of these families should even be here. These kids…” He looked away.
“Did the little brother die?” Jordan asked, keeping his voice low even though they had moved away from the exam rooms.
Clint’s gaze shifted to the nurse’s station, where Devlin spoke with another doctor. The solemn looks on their faces revealed the grim truth. “Yeah, I think so.” He nodded at the doctors. “When he came in, Devlin said he wasn’t expected to make it. He’d been shot in the chest.”
“Jesus,” Jordan whispered, dragging his hand over his mouth, distress pinching his face.
The man had a six-year-old son and two adopted teenage boys he loved like his own flesh and blood.
Clint knew the dire scenarios playing through the detective’s head—the same what-if-it-were-my-child scenarios tormenting the cowboy. He lowered his eyes. And Axel.
A dark shadow crossed Jordan’s face. “What is it?” Clint asked.
“Frank.” The name slipped out, barely a whisper. “It’s so hard on him when kids end up on his tables.”
Frank Hayes. Wil Jordan’s best friend, boyfriend… and county coroner.
Clearing his throat, Jordan asked, “Where did the officers take the father?”
Axel raised his head, tears in his eyes.
He pointed across the corridor to the other exam room, where the mother continued to sob as the orderlies wheeled her son’s body out on a special gurney that concealed the body in a box-like compartment.
With the sheet draped over the top, the metal cart appeared empty.
The two orderlies showed solemn respect for their “passenger” as they wheeled him to a staff elevator and disappeared inside, transferring him to the morgue in the hospital’s basement.
“I’ll do what I can for the family,” Jordan said.
“I don’t believe the man will be a further threat to the kid,” Clint offered. “But I understand if the other family presses charges.” Clint didn’t think that would happen, as both mother and son were stricken with shock and horror by the truth of the hit-and-run.
“I’ll consult with both families,” Jordan said.
Axel rose slowly, his throat working. “Will the kid be… arrested?” His eyes shimmered. “It-It was an accident, right? I mean… he was trying to save his little brother.”
Sympathy softened Jordan’s expression. He and Axel had become friends months ago. “If the boy’s family decides to pursue charges, I can’t stop them. However, the extenuating circumstances should help his case in court.”
Axel appeared uncertain. “But people can be so hateful. What if the public vilifies him? Even if he wins the case, he might still face danger from those who believe he deserves to die for killing a child. His mother could also be at risk. People are... unpredictable.”
Clint didn’t think he was overreacting—the cowboy put no stock in the sanity of human beings or their ability to think and reason coherently—and the detective didn’t appear to think so, either.
“If things turn ugly,” Jordan said, “I’ll see what I can do to provide them protection.” He turned toward the exam room on the far side of the corridor.
“Detective,” Clint said, and Jordan paused. “If it comes to it and you can’t provide legal protection…” He nodded once. “Let me know. I’ll take care of it.”
Jordan stared at him for a moment, nodded, started to turn away, then asked, “Any idea who the shooter was?”
“I may have a lead,” Clint drawled, jade eyes locked with Jordan’s stare as an understanding passed between them: the cowboy had no intention of sharing that lead.
The detective nodded again and entered the exam room.
“I don’t want to be here for this,” Axel whispered, trembling, as Devlin and the other doctor approached down the corridor. “I can’t be here anymore.”
Clint gently gripped his arm. “Come on,” he said, his voice thick. “Let’s go get our son and go home.” Luke had wanted to come into town with them and visit the twins. They had left their infant daughter, Hope, at home with Zoe.
“What do you think is going to happen to them?” Axel swallowed. “Do you think… Do you think they’ll ever have a normal life again? Ever be… happy again?”
He exhaled deeply, cupped Axel’s head, and kissed him. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “Only time will tell.” The answer would have been easy if they had lost Luke. Normal would never be a thing again. And happiness, a distant emotion… buried forever beneath the earth with their son.
Devlin paused to speak with Clint and Axel before moving on to the exam room with Dr. Sanders.
He envied his two friends the luxury of walking out of this horror show, though they took part of it with them.
They didn’t have to be there when the final nail was driven into the Healy family’s coffin—that snip of their final thread of hope.
Dr. Sanders paused at the curtain, allowing Devlin to enter first, then followed him inside. This wasn’t the first time Devlin had been present when a family was told of a loved one’s death, and it wouldn’t be the last. But the dire news this time cut Devlin a little deeper than ever before.
Mrs. Healy lifted her head as they entered, her damp, frightened eyes going straight to Dr. Sanders. “My son…?” she whispered, her voice breaking as she took in the solemn look on the doctor’s face.
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Sanders said softly with genuine sympathy. “I did all I could. There was too much damage.”
“No…” the woman crumbled, clutching the blanket on the bed. Her sobs began small and quiet, then grew louder and sharper. Devlin went to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder.
The boy looked up, tears streaming down his face, as his whole body began to shake. Deep, almost guttural cries clawed up from deep in his chest. He gripped his hair and shoved his face against his knees again, muffling his unbearable pain only slightly.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Dr. Sanders murmured. He looked at Devlin, who nodded. The doctor quietly retreated.
Mrs. Healy turned into Devlin’s partial embrace and clung to him like a drowning woman, her wails of anguish wrenching from her as her strength failed.
Devlin, his chin trembling, held the devastated mother, his damp eyes resting on her oldest son.
The boy’s cries suddenly fell silent as he hugged his knees and began to rock back and forth, that emptiness returning to his eyes as he pressed his mouth against his knees.
What’re they going to do now? How do you move forward from this?
Devlin thought about the horror scene in the park the night they found Abel and the two dead kids. If those kids had been Maddy and Savannah, as they first believed, Abel and Angel wouldn’t have been able to move forward. They would’ve been trapped in the nightmare for the rest of their lives.
We all would have been.
“Wait outside,” Wil Jordan instructed the two officers, one of whom had a broken, bloody nose, his face already bruising and swelling. “I’d like to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Brown in private.” He nodded at the injured officer. “Have a nurse take a look at that.”
The officer shot Dan Brown a disgruntled look as he exited the room with the other cop.
Wil sighed and looked at the husband and wife. They sat in plastic chairs beside the bed their son’s body had recently occupied. The man sat slumped, his hands cuffed behind him, his face blank as he stared at the tile. His wife leaned on him, clinging, her face pressed into his shoulder, sobbing.
Pulling up another chair, Wil sat before them.
“I’m Detective Wil Jordan,” he began in a calm voice.
“I want to say how sorry I am for your loss.” After a moment, he stood and removed the man’s cuffs.
Dan Brown slowly brought his hands in front of him, absently rubbed his wrists, and kept staring at the floor.
Wil sat back down. “I understand your reaction to the other kid, Mr. Brown,” he said. “But—”
“He killed my son.” The statement was flat and toneless—no anger or hurt—just a hollow declaration.
Wil nodded. “Yes,” he murmured. “But it’s important that you understand the circumstances surrounding the accident.”
“I don’t care,” the man whispered. “My boy is dead because of him. I don’t care why.”
Across the corridor, a woman’s sobs swelled into wailing cries. Wil hung his head, his throat tightening.
Mrs. Brown slowly raised her head from her husband’s shoulder, tears streaking her face. “What happened?” she whispered with a tremor, recognizing the utter devastation in the other woman’s cries.
Wil rubbed his mouth. “She lost her son,” he said with a quiet strain. “He was thirteen. He was shot in a drive-by shooting.”
The woman crumbled and buried her face in her hands, sobbing.
Wil looked at Dan Brown. The man flinched at the news, fresh tears welling in his eyes.
“Her oldest son, Connor, was with him when it happened. He put his little brother in the car and rushed him to the hospital. He was in a panic, trying to save his brother’s life.
He didn’t…” Wil swallowed. “He didn’t see your son when he stepped into the street.
I know it doesn’t ease the pain of your loss, but it wasn’t an irresponsible, reckless act that took your boy.
The young man was terrified, desperate to save his little brother.
It was an accident. One that… I don’t think he will ever forgive himself for. ”
Dan Brown’s head slowly sank. Tears began to roll down his face. “Did I… hurt him bad?”
“I don’t think so,” Wil murmured.
“I wanted… I wanted to kill him,” the man whispered sickly. “I would have, if…”
“You didn’t,” Wil said. “But you did commit assault in a hospital—on an officer as well as the young man. I’m afraid there will be consequences.”
His wife looked up desperately. “You’re…
You’re going to arrest him?” Her despair deepened, and she shook her head, tears streaming.
“Please, Detective, please don’t take my husband away.
I need him… please… I can’t…” She hugged her husband’s arm and sobbed into his shoulder.
“We just lost our boy… he wasn’t thinking straight…
He’s not dangerous… He’s never hurt anyone before… please don’t take him away from me.”
Wil’s heart ached for the woman… and her husband. “The extenuating circumstances will be considered,” he said quietly. “Unfortunately, I will have to take him into custody.”
“Can I… Can I come with him?” She looked so fragile and lost, terrified of being left alone amid her grief and anguish.
Wil nodded. “You can come to the station with him.”
“What will happen to him?” she whispered.
“That remains to be seen,” Wil said. “But I will do everything I can for him.” When the woman wilted against her husband, Wil added, a note of sadness in his voice, “I’m so sorry to do this to you at a time like this.”
Dan Brown lifted his head, focusing for the first time. Tears streamed freely as anguish and remorse filled his eyes. “I did this.” His chin trembled as he looked at his wife. “I’m so sorry, Nora. I’m so sorry…”
Nora Brown cradled her husband’s head as they both cried.
Rising slowly, Wil quietly left the room, wondering how he could preserve his humanity if he allowed these two broken souls to be torn apart at the most traumatic moment of their lives.