Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
JD
“Where is she?”
I’m not surprised my mother is the first to show up.
I’m sure word has gone out to the team the guy they were looking for showed up at the clinic, but it would take them some time to pack up and head back to the ranch.
Jackson stayed behind at the clinic to deal with law enforcement, and look after Ginger and the horses, but I expect the feds to show up here at some point.
Agent Wilcox—whose first name is Shane, apparently—was transported by Life Flight to Logan Health in Kalispell. He was barely hanging on, from what I picked up. I’m not sure what happened to Mackey, because I hopped in the ambulance with Janey, who was brought to Cabinet Peaks Medical Center in Libby.
“X-ray. They told me I had to wait here.”
I wasn’t happy being relegated to a waiting room, but Janey insisted she’d be okay, so I went.
“Talk to me,” Ma insists, taking the seat beside me.
“Gunshot wound to her lower leg on the right side. Looks like it may have missed the bone, but they’re looking to make sure. That fucking bastard pistol-whipped her and split her face open right along her cheekbone, and she probably has a concussion.”
I grind out the words through clenched teeth, burning with rage. For all I know, that lowlife could be right here in the same hospital getting treatment. If he is, it’s probably better I don’t know. I don’t think I can be held accountable for my actions.
“Jesus…” Ma hisses. “Poor girl. Good thing she’s tough. She’ll recover.”
I nod. She’s right, Janey is tough and she’ll recover from her injuries, at least the physical ones. But that kind of violent trauma can mess with a person’s head, and leave far longer-lasting damage than what was done to the body.
“Physically,” I modify her statement.
“And mentally,” Ma insists. “She’s tough. She’s got you, and all of us. She’ll be fine.”
I let that sink in for a bit as my gaze drifts to the window. It’s dark now, which means it’s after ten. Another long, fucked-up day. Hard to believe it’s still only Friday, the past few days have felt like weeks. So much going on, it’s hard to keep up.
My empty stomach rumbles loudly in the quiet room, a reminder of another missed meal.
“You haven’t eaten,” my mother concludes. “I packed up dinner and gave it to Jackson.”
“Never had the chance. It’s probably still in his truck and he’s back at Janey’s place taking care of things.”
“Well, then why don’t I go see if I can find you something?” she offers, but I shake my head.
“It’s okay, Ma.”
The sandwich shop in the hospital is closed, and the only other thing available at this time would be some greasy fast food I don’t think I’d be able to stomach right now. It’s doubtful Ma will let it go that easily, feeding people is her way of looking after those she cares about.
She proves me right when she persists with, “You need to eat,” only to be interrupted by a nurse who chooses that moment to walk in.
“Janey is back in her room. You can keep her company while we wait for the surgeon.”
“Surgeon?” my mother echoes, alarmed.
It’s news to me as well.
The nurse turns to her and explains, “We generally call the surgeon in to assess gunshot wounds coming in, it doesn’t necessarily mean she has to have surgery. It all depends what the X-rays show as well, and the radiologist is looking at those.”
“Oh, okay,” Ma responds.
“Normally, we limit it to one person in the room, but I’ll make an exception if you want to poke your head in as well. You’ll need to leave when the doctor gets there though,” the nurse adds.
I’m not sure how Janey’s going to feel about Ma showing up at her bedside, but since she gets to her feet before I can, I don’t think there’s any stopping her.
Half of her face is still wrapped in the gauze the EMTs used to keep the dressing on the cut on her cheek in place. The other half looks a little gaunt. A blanket is draped over her with her injured leg exposed, but they repacked that wound before she was wheeled to radiology and I’m happy to see only a little blood has soaked through the bandages since.
I walk straight to the bed and drop a kiss on her lips.
“Hey. How are you doing?”
“Under the circumstances, okay, I guess.”
She tries for a smile when I see her eyes catch on something behind me. Someone , rather.
“Ama…hey.”
“The nurse said I could poke my head in,” Ma explains quickly. “I came as soon as I heard.”
“That’s really sweet of you. You didn’t have to.”
Sweet is not something my mother is often accused of. She’s more of a tough-love type of person, but I can tell from the faint smile on her lips, she doesn’t seem to mind. Of course, she brushes it off with a wave of her hand.
“Did you get something for pain?” Ma gets right down to business.
“Yeah, I’m not sure what, they injected it in the IV, but I think it’s starting to work.”
Her voice is a little slurred and I suspect a combination of the events of the day, the pain medication, and the inevitable adrenaline letdown are starting to take their toll on her.
Ma doesn’t miss it either.
“Listen, I suspect they’ll keep you at the very least for tonight. Is there anything you need or want? I’m about to run over to your place to grab the food I gave Jackson for you two anyway. I know you’re probably not hungry yet, although you might want something decent later, but I know JD needs his food or he turns cranky.”
“Ma…”
I roll my eyes at my mother’s manipulations. She’s effectively made it impossible for Janey to pass on the offer without making her seem selfish, and I’d risk looking like an ungrateful ass if I told her not to.
“Hush,” she scolds me, putting a hand on my arm. “Let me feel useful.”
Ahhh .
The words she chooses are “let me” but what I’m hearing is about what she needs.
I slide my arm around her shoulders and give her a side-hug, dropping my cheek to the top of her head.
“All right, Ma,” I concede.
“My phone,” Janey suggests, observing the dynamic between my mother and me. “I left it on the hall table inside the front door, which may still be open, I’m not sure. And possibly some clothes. My pants were cut off me. Shit … my keys were in my jeans. I don’t know where they went.”
“I’ve got them.”
I reach in my pocket and fish out the key ring one of the EMTs handed me. Ma snatches them out of my hand.
“Anything else?” Ma asks.
She barely gives Janey a chance to respond before she plows on.
“Excellent. I’ll be back,” she announces. “And if there’s anything else you think of, tell my son to message me.”
Then she bends over the bed and brushes a stray hair from Janey’s forehead before kissing it. I’m not accustomed to the rare show of affection.
“You get some rest,” she instructs Janey.
All I get is a pat on my shoulder before she strides out of the room.
Janey
“How is Shane?”
Stephanie Kramer looks exhausted. She didn’t even argue with JD when he offered her his chair, and simply sank down in it, her shoulders slumped.
“In surgery, last I heard,” she shares. “But at least that means he’s still alive.”
Very true.
I really hope the agent pulls through. I feel a bit responsible for what happened to him. After all, Mackey was looking for me, or rather, the drugs he thought I had. It’s weighing on me, especially since I got off relatively easy in comparison.
My X-rays showed no damage to the bone, so I escaped surgery altogether. It also revealed the bullet, which was lodged beneath the skin at the back of my knee. The surgeon was able to retrieve it with local freezing and a small incision, right here in the room. He flushed out the wound, stitched and dressed it, and then moved on to the cut on my cheek. He ended up using surgical glue on that cut, promising it would leave less of a scar than even the tiniest of stitches would. I wasn’t really all that worried about scarring until he brought it up, so the glue seemed like a good option. I guess I have some vanity in me after all.
The surgeon had just left when Special Agent Kramer showed up.
“I hope he makes a full recovery.”
Stephanie looks up and shoots me a wobbly smile. “As do I.”
Then she appears to pull herself together, sitting up straighter and squaring her shoulders.
“I know it’s late,” she starts, “but tonight’s developments blow this case wide open, and we are in a hurry to piece it together. As soon as word gets out, the rest of the players along this drug pipeline will be scrambling to cover their tracks. That’ll make it so much harder—if not impossible—to wrap up this case. I need to know exactly what happened, and what was said.”
“I’m guessing Mackey is not talking?” JD asks.
“Nothing useful so far,” the agent admits, focusing on JD. “But since you bring up Mackey, you wouldn’t happen to know how his face came to look like someone used it as a punching bag, do you?”
JD quietly stares her down for a moment before holding out his hands, showing her both sides. There are no marks, nor is any swelling visible as you might expect, given the beating Mackey received.
Stephanie nods. “I had to ask. The only thing he was willing to talk about was how you assaulted him.”
“Mackey already looked like that when he approached me in the barn,” I defend JD.
I shoot a glance at him, noting the tension in the careful way he holds himself. I vaguely recall him kicking at Mackey, but that was mild compared to what I might’ve been tempted to inflict on the man, had I not been hurt myself. Not so much for Mackey’s actions tonight, but for the despicable way he treats animals. It’s no wonder poor Red had been trembling in his stall; I’m willing to bet that had more to do with his fear of his former owner than of thunderstorms.
“Why don’t you tell me how that came about?” Special Agent Kramer smoothly redirects her focus.
I try to relay events to the best of my recollection. Every so often she asks for clarification or poses a question that triggers my memory. She’s particularly interested in everything Mackey said, and I try my best to remember the exact words he used.
JD ends up adding his perspective once I get to the part where I thought I heard him driving up to the barn. I wasn’t aware it was actually Jackson who showed up first. Something I’m very grateful for, since he was able to alert JD before Mackey took a potshot at him as well, and maybe not missing that time.
He finally takes over, recounting everything happening outside the barn I hadn’t been privy to, and what happened in those final moments after Mackey shot me.
“Is this not a good time?” Ama says as she pokes her head around the door.
I’d almost forgotten she promised to be back.
“It’s fine,” Stephanie is the one to respond, as she gets to her feet. “I have everything I need for now and should get going. You two should get some rest with your matching concussions.”
She pauses at the door, waiting for Ama to pass her inside, before adding, “I’ll be in touch.”
“Matching concussions?” Ama asks, looking pointedly at her son as she sets down a large cooler and a bag on the floor by the window.
“I got knocked over the head earlier this week,” he clarifies.
“That was only yesterday,” I correct him, glancing at the clock over the door that shows a few minutes before midnight.
“No one told me about that,” Ama grumbles.
“I’m fine, Ma. Just a couple of stitches.”
His mother huffs audibly. “Just like your father. You Watike men all think you’re invincible.”
JD glances at me, his dark eyes amused. He doesn’t respond, which would seem wise in my humble opinion.
Ama asks me what the outcome of the surgeon’s visit was so I fill her in, as she opens the cooler and pulls out two containers. She hands me one of them and the smell of rich spices wafting up has my mouth water.
“Tortilla pie. Quick and not too heavy. Eat.”
She shoves a fork in my hand before giving JD the other container.
“Iced tea and bottled water in the cooler, and I’ve packed some clean clothes for both of you.”
“You didn’t have to go to all the trouble, Ama.”
She turns to look at me sternly. “It’s what I do. Now I’ll be able to sleep.” Then she drops my keys on the bedside table. “Jackson asked me to let you know he’ll stay at your house and look after your animals.”
“I appreciate that, and thank you.”
As expected, she waves me off. “Eat and rest. I’ll check up on you in the morning.”
When she tries to pass JD on her way to the door, he wraps her in a hug.
“Love you, Ma.”
She lifts her head to look at her son and places a hand on his cheek.
“You’d better,” she returns in a suspiciously unsteady voice before darting out the door.
Maybe it’s the drugs they gave me, but the brief mother-and-son moment has me a little choked up.