Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
Sloane
“It’s a scratch.”
Wolff grins and shakes his head at my challenge, but I’m clearly pissing off Dan.
“It’s a gash,” he returns sharply.
I roll my eyes.
“Not anymore,” I remind him. “The stitches fixed it. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a visit to make.”
I’ve been lucky, I know that. Things could’ve been a hell of a lot worse than fourteen stitches on my scalp, a concussion, and some smoke inhalation. The baton he apparently hit me with could’ve easily cracked my skull, but it turns out, I have a hard head.
What is more painful than anything else is the feeling of betrayal. Of all my new colleagues, he was the one I felt most closely connected to. That I could’ve misjudged him so put a serious dent in my confidence.
Jason Heany had been apprehended right there on the trail.
Sheriff Ewing had the foresight to put together two teams, each comprised of sheriff’s deputies and several High Mountain Trackers, and sending them up the trail in both directions of the loop. Ironically, the person who ultimately placed him in handcuffs, was none other than Deputy Frank Schmidt. Which only goes to show my judgment of character is off.
Schmidt was the deputy Sheriff Ewing had tasked with reviewing the Exxon security tapes, but when confronted, he admitted he’d passed on the job to Jason Heany when he offered to do it. When Junior heard that, he accessed the deputy’s personnel file and pulled Jason’s mandatory employee fingerprints. Those turned out to match the ones taken from the bullet shell and paint can.
While we were all packed off to the hospital with varying injuries, the FBI, led by SAC Bellinger, arrived in town to take over. We weren’t here long before Wolff, Dan, and I were separately interviewed by the feds but, apparently, they haven’t been able to get Shelby to talk. She is somewhere else in the hospital being treated and, as Bellinger was just here to explain, is in a state and unwilling to talk to anyone other than me.
The agent came in to request I talk to her. He hopes it will give us a better idea how the individual pieces fit together into a bigger picture. My, “Hell yes,” to the request did not go over well with Dan. His protective instincts have gone into overdrive, and even though part of me loves him for it, even understands it, I’m not about to sit the conclusion of what started as my investigation out on the sidelines.
“Fine,” he grumbles. “But I’m sticking close.”
He lifts his hand to stop me when I start to object. “Out of sight, but close,” he insists.
I nod, letting him have that one. I’m sure this afternoon’s events were traumatizing for him as well. Also, if not for Dan’s protective tendencies, I recognize I likely would not have survived that fire.
I’m not sure how long I’d been out for when Shelby’s frantic screams penetrated. I was disoriented at first, the cabin had already been filling with smoke and I could feel the heat of the flames on my skin, but reality set in fast enough. I had to fight my instincts to get the hell out of there, because there was no way I could even contemplate leaving Shelby behind.
She’d been incoherent with fear and given our very precarious situation, I didn’t waste time coaxing her out of her bra gently. I needed my hands on those wires if I had any chance of getting her, and therefore myself, out of there alive.
Truth be told, I’d already been losing hope by the time I heard a loud bang behind me. When we were getting sprayed with embers, I was convinced the roof had started caving in. Next thing I knew, I was being dragged through a wall of flames by Dan, who’d come sweeping in like some fictional action hero.
So, I let him push me, in the wheelchair he insisted on, to Shelby’s hospital room. A curtain is partly pulled around her bed, which is not visible from the door. I can see why when I spot SAC Bellinger already in the room, but out of sight of the bed. He presses his index finger to his lips. I nod at him as I roll myself around to the other side of the bed.
Shelby has her eyes closed, and only now do I notice the bruising around her eyes and the dark marks around her neck. When I touch her hand, she startles awake. As soon as she sees me her eyes fill with tears.
“Thank you,” are the first words from her mouth. “You stayed.”
“Technically, I think those thanks belong to Lucas Wolff and Dan, because I wasn’t having a whole hell of a lot of luck getting you out.”
At the mention of Dan’s name, I notice her wince.
“When we were young, he always protected me,” she starts, and for a moment I’m not sure if she’s talking about Dan or Jason. “I’d get teased in school, and he would take care of the bullies, like an older brother might. His mom and mine are close, they’re sisters, so he was a constant presence growing up.”
Yeah, that has to be Jason.
She sniffles and I hand her a box of tissues from the nightstand. I choose not to say anything and risk disrupting her flow. As it turns out, she doesn’t need my prompting, since she continues after she blows her nose.
“He’s the one who actually introduced Michael and me. It was at a baseball game I went to see. Both of them played in the same league, just on opposing teams.”
I let her talk through the years of her marriage, understanding that for her it’s probably all part of the same story. However, my interest is piqued when she explains how he started spending stretches of time away from home—indicating she had no idea where he was—and when he’d return, he’d become increasingly violent with her.
“My parents never knew, but when I showed up at home that last time he put his hands on me, after our divorce was finalized, Jason was there. He told me he’d make sure no one would ever hurt me again.” She shakes her head as she stares past me out the window. “I swear I didn’t ask him to, but I think he may have done something to Michael.”
I finally break my silence, wanting more information from her.
“Do you know if Jason was one of those hunting buddies of Michael you told me about before?”
I get a quick flash of her eyes. “As far as I know, Jason was the only one.”
The way she avoids looking at me directly for long, I have to wonder whether she may have had some inkling her cousin and her ex-husband were engaged in some questionable things. I have a good sense she wouldn’t admit it if she did.
“How did you end up at the cabin?” I ask instead.
“Jason came back to the store after he saw me talking to you. He told me if I didn’t come with him, he could make it look like my father spray-painted Dan’s house and would make sure he’d end up in prison.”
“But that wouldn’t have been true, would it?” I prompt her.
She shakes her head. “No, Jason did that…” She leaves a big pause before adding, “At my request.”
A nurse walks in, wheeling a medical cart.
“I’m sorry, I just need to take your vitals,” she addresses Shelby. “And then I really need you to get some rest,” she adds.
She doesn’t look at me but I know the last comment was meant for me.
“I will leave you to it,” I announce, wheeling my chair back to make room for the nurse. “We’ll be in touch.”
“Sloane?” she calls as I’m heading for the door.
“Yes?”
“Can you tell Dan I’m really sorry?”
Dan
It’s past four in the morning when I park the truck next to my cabin.
Wolff and I had been good to go hours ago, but Sloane was still waiting on the outcome of a few tests before they were comfortable letting her go. She was none too happy about the delay and when it was suggested she simply spend the night, she threatened to leave against medical advice.
Sully and Jonas had shown up at the hospital to check on us and brought my truck so we’d have wheels home. They ended up giving Wolff a ride home while I stayed behind with Sloane.
I’m not sure if she is in pain, tired, or what is going on, but she’s grown very quiet these past few hours since she had a hissy fit over spending the night at the hospital. She almost seems flat, with little reaction to what is happening around her.
Even now, she’s sitting in the passenger seat of my truck, engine off, just staring out the windshield.
“Can I make a suggestion?”
She turns her head to me, and looks like she only now realizes where she is. But at least I have her attention.
“Sorry?”
“Rather than waking up Aspen and your mom now, why don’t you come with me? I can help you shower off some of that grime without getting those stitches wet. We can sleep for a few hours and then you can head home a bit more refreshed.”
I know they said no shower for twenty-four hours but, surely, they don’t expect her to walk around covered in dirt and soot, reeking like the inside of a chimney until tonight. I can use the handheld shower to keep the water away from the cut, which is at the hairline behind her right ear.
“Okay.”
Another flatly delivered response, which is so out of character for Sloane, who generally is highly animated and fully engaged. I get the sense something more than pain or fatigue is brewing.
“Sit tight, I’ll come get you.”
Once inside the cabin, I lead her straight to the bathroom. I turn on the water as she strips down. Then I help her in the tub, getting her to sit on the edge to keep the weight off her ankle. I manage to avoid getting the stitches wet by having her lean forward as I do my best to wash the smoke out of most of her hair.
There’s little to no conversation from either of us during her brief shower or after, when I wrap a big towel around her and help her out of the tub. I guess this very long day is getting to me too.
In the bedroom, I hand her one of my T-shirts and flip back the cover on the bed.
“I’m just gonna throw our clothes in the washer and grab a quick shower myself.”
Ten minutes later, feeling much better, I’m surprised to find Sloane still up, watching me as I walk into the bedroom.
The moment I crawl under the covers she turns to me, putting her head on my shoulder and her hand in the middle of my chest.
“I’ve been thinking…”
I cover her hand with mine. “I was wondering what was going on in your head.” Then I press a kiss to her hair. “Talk to me.”
“I’m no better than Jeff.”
“What?” I shift on my side so I can look at her. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve been so focused on my job, so eager to get this case resolved, I didn’t even think twice about Aspen, I just went up that mountain.”
“I call bullshit,” I counter. “You didn’t abandon your daughter for a bunch of lofty dreams. You left your child in the capable hands of your mother while you went out to do the very important job of trying to make sure no more young girls end up like Nita or even Chelsea.”
“But I risked my life. I wasn’t thinking about my daughter when I chose to stay in a burning building with a virtual stranger to try and get her free. If something had happened to me?—”
“But it didn’t,” I interrupt, squeezing her hand in mine. “You’re right here.”
That’s when she turns those big blue eyes on me, swimming with tears.
“I wouldn’t have made it out if you hadn’t shown up, and we both know it.”
I bring her hand to my lips. I haven’t allowed myself to think about what might’ve happened, but I’m thinking about it now. Overwhelmed with it, actually.
My voice is hoarse, and not from the smoke, when I tell her, “We make a good team,” and gather her in my arms.
“I want to be a good mother.”
“You already are,” I mumble into her hair.
“I’m thinking maybe I should quit my job,” she throws out there.
I scoot back so I can look her in the eye.
“Wanna know what I think? I think you…make that we… have had an extremely fucked-up day, and we definitely should not be making any decisions or binding declarations until we’ve had at least a couple of normal days, and definitely a few solid nights.”
Bending down, I press a soft kiss to her lips.
“With perhaps one exception,” I add.
Then I take a deep breath before finally voicing what I should’ve told her eight years ago.
“I love you, Sloane Eckhart.”