43. Melissa
43
MELISSA
B ridget called after we had showered—again—and scrounged up dinner from the sparse offerings that were still in the apartment.
Jason had watched me clean up the manila folder of evidence that was splayed across the kitchen table. I stowed it in my purse for safekeeping. That folder was going to crucify Kingsley.
He didn’t say anything as I collected the pages and put them back in order. He didn’t have to. It was written on his face how much the photos of his sister, beaten and bruised, tortured him.
A while ago, Jason had opened up to me that he had started seeing a therapist after his first deployment. After we helped Bridget get to safety, I decided that I was going to start seeing one myself.
We hurried out the door and sprinted to the truck. Kingsley’s house wasn’t far. At this time of night, it would only take us a few minutes to get there, but I couldn’t wait. I had programmed the number to Bridget’s burner phone into mine. I punched her name in my contacts. When the call connected, I put it on speaker so Jase could hear, too.
“Hey,” I said as I caught my breath. “We’re on our way. Jase is pulling on to 70 now. We’re not far. Jase is on speaker.”
“Oh good,” Bridget said, more lighthearted than I had heard her in years. “I take it my advice to kiss and make up with you went well?”
“Hardy har-har,” Jase deadpanned. “I didn’t need your permission or your advice to uh, get right with my girl.” He turned his head and smirked at me, his eyes trailing down to my belly, then back at the road.
“Gross,” Bridget protested. “I’m so friggin’ happy that y’all are getting married, but I do not need the details of your… activities. ”
I let out a crack of laughter. “Oh, please. You have no problem talking about sex. You and the blow job tips you offer up, unprompted.”
Jace grimaced. “I’m both horrified that my sister has given you blow jobs tips and kind of curious to see if you wanna try those tips out.”
I heard the thump, thump, thump of a suitcase rolling down the stairs on Bridget’s end. “Ugh. You’re gonna make me hurl. Never mind. No more tips for you, Mel.”
Jase grinned. “I gave her way more than the tip, thank you very much.”
Bridget and I groaned in unison.
“Hey, I’ll bring all your shit down to the truck,” Jase said. “You don’t have to lug it down the stairs.”
“It was just one suitcase. I put it out on the porch. You can throw it in the back when you get here. The door’s unlocked. I’ve gotta run back up and grab a few more things.” Bridget’s footfalls echoed over the line as she went back up the stairs. A door opened and closed .
I glanced at the street signs, counting down the minutes until we would be there. The minutes until this would be over.
“Damn. Y’all are here already?” Bridget asked. “I thought you said y’all were just leaving.”
Jason looked at me, brows furrowed. “We’re ten minutes out, Bee.”
My heart dropped. “Bridget?” I held the phone closer to my mouth as Jase floored it. “ Bridget ?”
“ You didn’t think I knew what you were up to, you stupid bitch ?” Kyle’s sinister voice was distant, but filled with venom. “ You thought I’d let you fucking leave? ” I heard the sharp smack of skin connecting with skin. “ Fucking cunt. Don’t you know?” He let out a sinister laugh. There was a dull thud, and Bridget cried out in pain. “ I own you. ”
Tears filled my eyes. I looked at Jason, who was redlining it, pushing the old truck to fly as fast as it could. “Call 911,” I whispered to him. He was already pulling his phone out of his pocket as he careened down the highway.
“ You thought I was gone? ” he sneered. “ You always were so fucking gullible.”
Muffled grunts and the sickening sounds of the attack filled the truck. Bridget’s pleas for him to stop fell on deaf ears. I couldn’t even make out what Jason was saying to the 911 dispatcher.
A blast of static burst over the line as the sound of shattering glass cut through my haze. Kyle yelped in pain, cursing Bridget.
Yes. Please, Bridget—fight!
I looked at the speedometer and calculated how much longer it would take.
Bridget shrieked, then—for too long—all was silent. Then a grunt. And a groan.
“ You kicked me in the fucking balls, you bitch! ” Kyle howled. “ This is the last time you get away with not staying in your fucking place. ”
She was struggling, but there were no words exchanged. No tell-tale signs of who was winning. I couldn’t make it out.
Kyle let out a guttural roar, and the phone clattered to the ground. Bridget let out a blood-curdling scream. Three hard thuds, a door slammed, and then nothing.
Minutes passed, the only sound coming from the 911 dispatcher telling us not to enter the house. That she had police and EMS en route. She told us to wait for them to secure the scene.
There was no way in hell I was going along with that.
Jason’s knuckles were white as he floored it into the neighborhood. Headlights blinded us as a swanky black SUV squalled tires as it sped down the street. Jason veered to the side, nearly missing a trash can as the SUV swerved into our lane.
A flash of blond hair and pure malice behind blue irises.
“He’s running,” Jason clipped into the phone as he looked in the rearview mirror. “Black Range Rover speeding out of the Royal Wexford Pointe subdivision. Didn’t get the full plate, but the first four were alpha-zulu-charlie-niner.”
There was typing on the dispatcher’s end. “Are you law enforcement?”
If she was trying to make conversation right now, so help me ? —
“Ex-military,” he snapped. “I need that ambulance at the house yesterday .”
Kyle Kingsley’s house came into view. I was already unbuckling my seatbelt. Bridget’s suitcase was outside under the dim porch light. The front door was wide open.
“Please be okay,” I whispered a reverent prayer to whatever higher power was listening as I ran into the house. “Please be okay.”
Bridget was lying, unconscious, at the bottom of the stairs. Blood pooled around her head, staining her blonde hair ruby red .
“ Jase! ” I screamed at the top of my lungs, falling to my knees beside her body. He was behind me in an instant as I checked for a pulse.
Nothing.
“Get me a towel!” I shouted as I opened her airway. No breath. He raided the kitchen and was back before I could blink. “Firm pressure on her head. Not too much in case she has a skull fracture. Stop the bleeding. Keep her head still.”
Sirens sounded in the distance as I started chest compressions. Moisture trickled down my face as I performed CPR, but it wasn’t sweat. They were tears.
Thirty compressions.
Nothing.
Sixty compressions.
Nothing.
Ninety compressions.
Beats.
I grabbed her wrist as the ambulance, followed by two police cars, came to a screeching halt outside. Her pulse was thready, but it was there.
Bridget’s eyelids fluttered, and she mumbled something incoherent.
“Ma’am, can you step aside?” The first paramedic tried to nudge me out of the way. “You touch me again, and you’re gonna lose that hand,” I snapped. “Patient is a thirty-three-year-old female. In and out of consciousness after chest compressions. Pulse is weak. Blood type is O-positive.”
Jason wrapped his arms around me, dragging me away from Bridget. I was about to bite his head off when he pulled me into his chest. We watched, helpless, as they wrapped gauze around her head, secured her neck with a brace, and carefully loaded her onto the stretcher .
“We’re gonna take her to Carteret Presbyterian in Morehead,” he said as he yanked his bloodied gloves off. “Y’all can follow in your vehicle, or we’ve got room for you to ride with her in the Band-Aid box if you’d like.”
“We’re getting in the ambulance,” I snapped, already heading out the door. Officers were scattered all over the property, cordoning off the house with yellow crime scene tape. Blue lights flashed across the night sky, drawing neighbors out of their houses to see what the fuss was about.
To his credit, the ambulance driver burned rubber getting to the hospital.
Bridget drifted in and out. Her pulse was still weak. An oxygen mask had been fitted over her nose and mouth. Finally, they pulled into the ambulance entrance of the emergency department.
Jason jumped out first and grabbed my waist, helping me down so they could get Bridget’s gurney out of the ambulance. When my feet were on the ground, he only let go long enough to hold my hand.
“ Bridget! ”
Our heads snapped in the direction of the parking lot. The blue lights on the front of Chase’s unmarked police car were still flashing. The driver’s side door was open, and he was running full speed toward the stretcher.
The paramedics were wheeling her through the entrance when Chase caught up and grabbed her hand. “Darlin’—”
“Sir, step back,” one of the paramedics barked.
“Chase,” I called out weakly.
His eyes flickered up to Jason and me as we caught up with the paramedics. Fear was etched across his face.
“She’s alive,” I said. “Unconscious, but alive.”
“Detective, you need to back off,” the other paramedic snapped. “She’s lost a lot of blood. You need to let us do our jobs. ”
Chase walked beside the gurney as they rolled Bridget inside. “Please,” he begged, holding her hand. “Please, darlin’—you gotta wake up.”