22. Chapter 22
Chapter twenty-two
T he automatic doors of Baylor University Medical Center swished open as Judas ran into the emergency room waiting area. The time it took him to drive here was too much. His racing mind was uncontrollable as he played Eliza's screams of despair over in his head. He didn't know what he would be walking into either. Was Paul dead? Had Eliza been with him? Was she hurt? Judas would never forgive himself if the latter turned out to be true.
"I'm looking for Paul Arthur or his daughter," he told the thin nurse in the pink scrubs at the desk.
"Judas?" a faint whimper squeaked behind him. Judas spun to find Eliza, wrapped in a gray blanket, her face ruddy and swollen from crying.
Waves of relief crashed over him and he pulled her into his strong hold, "Oh my God. You're safe. It's okay, you're safe." He wasn't sure if he was reassuring Eliza or himself.
She wept in his tight hold and he stroked her golden hair. With every deepening sob, Eliza took in Judas' scent, which began to bring a sense of calm to her. Her cries ebbed more than flowed as her body relaxed.
A portly paramedic with bushy brown hair and a mustache handed Judas a cup of water, "I think she should drink this. She's been in a state of shock since she came in with her father."
Judas, not accepting the water because it would mean taking an arm away from her, spoke in a firm tone, "What happened? She said her father was shot?"
The round medic nodded, "GSW to the left anterior shoulder and posterior right lung. They just took him into the OR. I wanted to let her know."
Judas nodded sharply and the man walked away. Paul was shot twice; once in the front and once in the back. He wondered from what range the assailant fired and how large a caliber. In his life, Judas witnessed hundreds of wars and saw the life drain from men whose convictions convinced them they were on the side of justice. He never chose conflict even though at times, it seemed to hunt him with an ancient and ruthless disregard.
Eliza's mind raced as she allowed Judas's protective embrace to warm her. The chill of fear and despair are forced out of her body by the shield of electrifying security that radiated from him. She is under his guardianship now and she can finally make sense of the chaos playing out around her. She looked into the dark honey eyes of her savior and saw her own relief.
"Ahavah," he whispers, "What happened?"
He guided her to a chair but fdidn’t let her out of his hold. She sat next to him, pulling the blanket tighter, and leans into him; his firm form supported her from completely crumbling under the weight of her thoughts. Her voice was stuck somewhere between her chest and teeth and distant when she tried to speak.
"I…" she pulled at the blanket, "I was in the car on my way when I got a call from a neighbor… they… said an ambulance was at Dad's… and police. I got there as quickly as I could… they were just about to leave with him."
Eliza stared at the phone in her shaking hand, “I called Uncle Chet… he told me to keep him posted. I think he’s still dealing with his own stuff."
Judas reaches up to wipe a tear from her eye, "It's okay. Your dad’s here now. They’ll take care of him. He will be fine."
He knew his words would only soothe her pain temporarily. He didn't actually know if Paul would make it out of the operating room alive or not, but he had to keep hope alive inside Eliza. Judas didn't have it in him to allow reality to force its way inside her just yet. The stout paramedic was back but this time a slender man in a beige suit with a navy tie accompanied him to the pair.
"Ms. Arthur?" the man in the suit flips open a notebook.
Eliza's tear bleary eyes blink up in the direction of the voice, "Yes?"
"I'm Detective Grable with the Dallas police department. I know this is a difficult time right now, but do you think you could answer some questions?" Detective Grable pulled a pen out of his white Oxford shirt.
Judas noticed the officer's calloused hands and it reminded him of a carpenter he once knew. He felt Eliza trembling under his hands and he tightened his hold gently.
"I think so," Eliza wiped her face and stiffened her back. The public-facing, professional Elizabeth Arthur is starting to emerge. She's the strong one, the confident one, the one that can conquer the universe.
"Ms. Arthur," Detective Grable turned a page in his notebook. "Your father, Paul Arthur, is a lawyer, is that correct?"
She nodded, "Yes, a real estate attorney.”
The detective scribbled on his pad before looking more intently at Eliza, "Wait. Didn't you work in the prosecutor's office a few years ago?"
Judas watched a smile cross her lips. He understood her micro-expressions and knew the act is one of necessary politeness. It's similar to the way she would greet her father's constituents.
"Yes," her voice is professional, "I mostly worked on special victims cases."
"I thought I recognized the name! Oh, Ms. Arthur, I am sorry about your father," Grable is the perfect amount of empathy without any pity. "Did he have any enemies that you can think of?"
Eliza glanced at Judas for assurance and he shook his head.
"No… not that we're aware of," the tears are starting to well in her eyes once more, but she fights them back relentlessly.
"I'm sorry, I didn't get your name," the detective's question is directed at Judas.
He stands to shake Grable's hand, "Jude Christian, I'm Mr. Arthur's head of security."
Grable's eyes widened, "Oh. Not a lot of attorneys with a personal security detail. Did he have a security issue, Mr. Christian?"
"No," Eliza's eyes look up at the men, "Mr. Christian was hired several months ago as a preemptive measure for my father's campaign for the state senate."
Judas gave the detective an assuring nod. It actually quite surprised him that Paul didn't have any threats against him. On a good day, he is a demanding, sexist, know-it-all, bigot; but Paul didn't always have good days.
"No threatening letters, texts… emails? No one is getting out of hand at a fundraiser or event?" Grable writes more in his little book.
‘No one except the man who was shot’, Judas thought to himself.
Judas shook his head, silencing the thought, "We had an incident at a rally last week. But it was contained quickly. So far, everything has been pretty normal."
Grable continued scratching in his pad. Judas can't imagine anyone who would hate Paul enough to want him dead. He was a profiteering loudmouth with an abrasive personality, but in Judas' experience, there were millions just like him; especially since the advent of the internet. But, there isn't anything special about Paul or his life; except Eliza.
"Just a couple more questions, Ms. Arthur," the detective paused. "Is your father seeing anyone?"
Eliza snickers with a sound so sardonic the men felt it, "I wish he were… but no. My father's only relationship is with his campaign."
More notes before, “Does he own a gun?”
“Yes,” she chuckled, “After all, he is Texas born and bred.”
“Does he own anything special or old?”
Judas could sense that the detective was leading her somewhere but before he could respond, Eliza was quick with her sharp retort, “Why are you asking? Do you think my father was shot with his own gun?”
The officer looked from Eliza to Judas, “Ma’am…we won’t know for sure until the ballistics are back, but, from the x-rays, it appears he was shot with a black powder weapon.”
Shock washed over her face. Eliza’s head spun as she tried to concentrate on the implications. She was thankful for Judas’ warm hand on the small of her back, tethering her to Earth.
“Yes, he owns old guns…but none of them are loaded. They’re displayed around the house. I don’t even think he has the supplies to shoot them,” she shook her head.
A feeling of aggravation and uneasiness settled over her. It terrified her to think that her father’s hobby may have in some way contributed to his attack but she couldn’t let it affect her right now. As they watched the police detective walk back through the double doors of the ER, Eliza cleared her mind to prepare for the battle that awaited.