Epilogue
Savvy
“Single MVA on Old Winchester Creek Road, three miles west of the Black Mountain Casino.”
The call comes in just as I’m about to head home.
It’s been a long week of snowstorms that’s had us running from one end of the county to the other with similar calls to this.
Poor road conditions and poor judgment can be a dangerous combination, all too often with a life-altering outcome.
In addition, I’ve been plagued with a nasty bug, which I guess is also par for the course this time of year.
The snow started up again an hour ago, so I’m sure the weather had something to do with it, but something tells me this accident—so close to the casino with little else around—may have had alcohol playing a role as well.
Wonderful.
Instead of finally heading home to a warm bed, I’m once again braving the weather to the scene of an accident in the opposite direction. God only knows how long it’ll take me to get there.
At least I won’t have to bother Nate to let him know I won’t be coming home; he wasn’t expecting me anyway. I told him if things got too ugly out there, I might just crash at the station. It wouldn’t be the first time this winter, which has been pretty brutal so far.
The sparse streetlights barely have an impact on visibility, which is minimal due to the heavy snow coming down. At least they give me some indication where the actual road is. I sure am glad for the chains on my tires and my all-wheel drive, or else I wouldn’t have any traction at all.
As much as I want to get to the scene as fast as possible, I’m not about to jeopardize my own safety. I have too damn much to live for these days.
When I’m a few minutes out, dispatch informs me the fire department and EMTs are en route as well, but will be a few minutes behind me.
This part of Old Winchester Creek Road is dark, without street lighting, but it makes the red glow of a set of rear lights poking out of the snow up ahead all the more visible. I’m not sure who called it in, but there aren’t any other vehicles around.
I leave my lights running so the location is easy to spot for any emergency vehicles behind me, make sure I have my flashlight, and pull my beanie over my ears before stepping out.
Damn, that wind is cold. The snow hits my face sideways and feels like sharp icicles digging into my skin, while I grab the snow shovel from the back of my cruiser.
Grateful for my sturdy fur-lined boots, I make my way to the back of the stranded vehicle, noting the front end disappears into the ditch, which is buried under the deep snow.
To my surprise, the first vehicle that shows up is one of our own, and KC gets out.
“Give me that,” he grumbles, grabbing the shovel from my hands.
“What are you doing here?” I inquire. “Your shift doesn’t start until the morning.”
“I was monitoring the scanner. Why are you out here anyway? Why didn’t Warren take this call?”
I stare slack-mouthed at my deputy. I’m not used to him being this assertive, it’s borderline rude, and that is not like the KC I know.
“Watch your tone,” I caution him.
That seems to startle him.
“I apologize if I was rude, but I worry about you,” he clarifies as he keeps shoveling at the snow.
“About me?”
My question gets lost when the fire department rolls up. With their help, enough snow is cleared away for us to be able to open the door. We find the driver slumped over the steering wheel, reeking of booze, with a cell phone clutched in his hand. He must’ve called 911 himself.
“No pulse,” one of the firefighters announces.
I’m shocked when he eases the man back and I recognize Jeff Sanchuk.
“Oh shit,” KC mutters.
He pulls me out of the way as the first responders pull Sanchuk from the vehicle and carry him up to the road where they attempt CPR to revive him.
“Wasn’t his assault trial coming up soon?”
“Next week, March fifth,” I confirm.
Nate had a meeting with the assistant district attorney just a few days ago to prepare for his testimony. Something I know he wasn’t particularly looking forward to.
“I think maybe karma doled out some justice today,” my young deputy shares sagely.
I wince, because it’s a bit harsh, but he’s not lying.
“Maybe.”
Half an hour later, the snow has stopped falling, Sanchuk’s unresponsive body has been removed by ambulance, the fire department has left, and the tow truck has pulled the stranded vehicle from the ditch. I’m about to tell KC to go back home, but he beats me to it.
“You should get some rest,” he suggests. “You shouldn’t be out here in your condition.”
Once again, I find myself staring at my deputy with my mouth hanging open.
“My condition?”
He blanches at my question and starts sputtering.
“I’m sorry, I saw you throwing up in your trash can when I walked past your office on Tuesday. And yesterday morning I almost bumped into you when you were running for the bathroom. Both times were in the morning, and I thought…”
He doesn’t finish his sentence and looks decidedly uncomfortable.
I’m simply too shocked to speak.
“I should get going too. Again, so sorry.”
He heads over to his patrol car, wipes the windshield clear of snow with his sleeve, and hops behind the wheel.
I’m still standing in the same spot, as KC drives off in the direction of Silence.
Is it possible?
Nate
“What’s wrong with Savvy?”
I glance over at my daughter as I drive her to her youth group rehearsal, which KC ended up moving from the church hall to the high school auditorium. Understandable, given what happened to him, as well as to Carson and my daughter, in the basement of the church.
“She hasn’t been feeling too well and she’s tired. Work was crazy this past week.”
All true, but I was wondering myself when she passed on what has become our weekly tradition of Sunday morning breakfast at the Bread & Butter Diner earlier and opted to stay in bed. I intend to find out when I get home after dropping Tate off.
“Savvy?” I call out, walking in the door.
She’s not on the main level, and I don’t find her in bed. The door to the bathroom is closed and I softly knock on the door.
“Babe, are you in here?”
“It’s not locked.”
She’s sitting on the floor, her back against the shower door and her bare legs stretched out in front of her and her hands in her lap. She’s still wearing the sleep shorts and shirt she had on earlier. Her hair is a tangled mess and her face is blotchy and red.
“Are you still feeling sick?” I sink down on the floor beside her and drape my arm around her, pulling her close to my side.
“Don’t,” she says, resisting a little. “I reek of vomit.”
“I don’t care about that. I care about you.” I press a kiss to her head. “I’m worried. Maybe you should see a doctor? Whatever this bug is, it doesn’t look like it’s letting up.”
She scoffs a laugh.
“I’m pretty sure it’s not going to let up for a while,” she shares.
“What do you mean?”
By way of a response, she hands me a white and blue plastic stick she’d been holding in her lap. It takes me no more than a second to recognize it for what it is, and there is no doubt in my mind what that dark blue plus sign in the small display window means.
She promptly bursts out crying.
“I’m sorry. I swear I haven’t missed taking my pills. I don’t know what happened.”
“I do,” I tell her with a chuckle. “I remember exactly what happened. I haven’t forgotten a single moment I’ve spent making love with you.”
“But I wasn’t supposed to get pregnant. We haven’t even talked about—”
“Hush,” I cut her off, easing her chin up with my index finger so I can look in her eyes. “We, of all people, should know by now to grab on to those unexpected blessings and treasure them.”
I give her a little shake.
“This is a good thing, Savvy. A happy thing. Whatever changes or adjustments need to be made to our lives will be so worth it, and the beauty of it is, we have a lot of months to figure it all out.”
She flashes me a watery smile, but her tears are drying.
“Dad’s going to flip out,” she observes.
“He sure is,” I agree. “And Phil is going to go nuts over this baby. And you know who else?”
Now she beams up at me.
“Tatum?”
“Bingo. She’ll be in hog heaven.”
I lower my head and drop a kiss on her lips.
“Eww…” she mutters, pulling away. “Vomit breath.”
I laugh in her face.
“Like I care. You’re having my baby, I’m sure there’ll be plenty of bodily fluids to contend with in our immediate future.”
The expression on her face makes me laugh even harder.
“Oh God, I’m so not prepared for this.”
I rest my chin on the top of her head.
“You will be. We’ll figure it out.”