Chapter 43
FORTY-THREE
MADDOX
To my surprise, my call isn’t met by an automated voice telling me Austin’s mailbox is full.
But what I hear instead is much, much worse.
Sobbing, banging, whimpering.
“Aus?” I stop in my tracks, in the middle of my living room, trying to make sense of what I’m hearing.
“H-Hello?” she whispers, barely able to be heard over the sound of banging in the background.
“Austin? What the fuck is that noise?”
She whimpers again as the banging continues and I can’t hear the exact words being said, but there’s muffled yelling, obvious anger. I rush back to my bedroom and hold the phone against my shoulder again, unlocking the gun safe in the bottom drawer of my nightstand to pull out my pistol.
“Baby, what’s going on? Is it your dad? Are you okay?”
“I didn’t mean to call you,” she stutters, sounding confused.
“I called you, Austin. What’s happening?”
Not wasting time with closing the empty safe, I shove the gun into the waistband of my jeans and grab my keys, letting my cabin door slam behind me as I run out into the cool May air.
She’s stuttering her way through a response when the banging gets louder.
Austin yelps and then muffles it, the line going dead right after.
“Fuck!”
I hit Jameson’s speed dial, backing my truck around and shifting into drive with the other hand.
“‘Sup?”
“Get your gun and be ready to jump in my truck.” I don’t bother waiting for an answer, hanging up immediately after. I know he’ll be standing outside by the time I get there.
Sure enough, he’s waiting, but as soon as he sees my face, he rounds the hood to the driver’s side instead of hopping in like I told him, wasting precious seconds. “Get in the fucking truck,” I seethe.
“I am, brother. Scoot to the other side. I can’t let you drive like this. Just tell me where we’re going.”
I don’t have time to argue, and not driving will give me time to call the sheriff anyway, so I slide across the bench seat, dialing while I explain. “Austin’s. Quickly.”
Jameson doesn’t wait for more information, tires spinning as he peels away from his cabin. He hits the button on the visor to make sure the gate is open long before we reach it and I love him for trying to make up for the seconds we lost.
“Cedar Creek Sheriff’s Office, Walker speaking.” Has he always talked this fucking slowly?
“It’s Maddox Whittaker. I need you to get your boys to the Taylor residence before I make it there or you’ll be cleaning up a crime scene.”
Jameson swears under his breath, taking the turn onto the main road faster than he normally would. I relish in the way my body knocks against the side of the car door.
The quick sound of Walker’s office chair rolling back against the floor comes through the receiver, followed by quick rustling. “Elaborate.”
“Don’t have much to give you besides hearsay and a gut feeling, but I got a call from someone who said he witnessed Wayne Taylor grabbing his daughter at Quitter’s today and when I called her, she was crying and whispering, like she was hiding.
It sounded like Wayne was beating the door down and screaming. ”
The Sheriff lets out a sigh that sounds way too close to relief for my liking. “So, a domestic dispute?”
“A fucking murder if I make it there before you do, Walker, and that’s all the warning you’re gonna fucking get.”
I hang up, throwing the phone to the floorboard. There’s no way he’s going to make it there before we do. We’re five minutes out if we were going the speed limit and we definitely aren’t.
“Is it even worth mentioning that Mama will have a fit if you end up in the slammer or worse?” Jameson asks, flashing his lights at an oncoming car as he veers into their lane to pass the one in front of us.
“Nope,” I tell him, grabbing the bar above the door as he veers back into the proper lane. He’s going as fast as he can, I know that, but it’s still not fast enough and all my mind has time to do right now is think.
Austin’s obvious distrust in men.
Her desperation to make money & her plans to leave town.
The breakdown in the office of the bar after that ranch hand grabbed her.
Another memory tries to grab me—emotionless eyes in a dimly-lit hallway and a jacket she wouldn’t take off—but we’re pulling up to the dilapidated single-wide Austin shares with her soon-to-be-dead father so my mind loses track of the thought.
I’m out of the truck before it’s even parked.
“Maddox, goddammit, be smart about this!” Jamie’s yelling, shutting it off and rushing after me.
I brace myself, kicking open the front door.
Dramatic and unnecessary based on the way it slams against the wall easily, but intended to make a point and distract Wayne if nothing else.
There’s noise toward the back of the trailer and I draw my gun, heading that way.
“Fuck, that’s a lot of coke,” my brother mumbles under his breath behind me, but I’m only focusing on the tiny voice I can hear as I get closer.
“Daddy, please don’t do this,” Austin begs, sobbing. “I’ll get you the money. I won’t leave town. Please.”
The door to what must be Austin’s room has been forced open, a dresser knocked over and in disarray but that’s all I can see from here.
I plan to be smart about it, like Jameson warned, but when I hear the unmistakable sound of a fist meeting flesh and Austin’s yelp, caution is tossed aside.
My brother swears behind me like he knows, and I’m running the few feet remaining to the bedroom.
Austin’s on the floor but if it weren’t for her hair, I don’t think I’d know it was her.
“Get your hands off of her or I’ll fucking end you.”
Wayne whirls around from where he was bent over his daughter and Austin sobs in relief, curling up. He stumbles back away from her, grinning maniacally. “Welcome to the party, boys. You here to buy?”
“What the fuck? No, you dipshit.” I nod my head over to the other side of the bed. “Go stand over there.” I need to get to Austin. Her whole body’s shaking, tiny little whimpers escaping her.
Wayne’s entire demeanor changes at the demand. “You think you can come up in my house and start waving your guns around and telling me what to do?” he slurs. “Fucking Whittakers, too big for your britches, every one of you! Mind your goddamn business.”
Despite his words, he steps away from Austin, walking up to me like I don’t have a gun pointed at him. I cock it, but I’m distracted. My eyes keep flicking over to Austin, who still hasn’t gotten up off the ground. I can hear sirens in the distance but they sound too far away.
Behind me, Jameson racks his pistol with a clunk. Wayne’s steps falter. “Maddie, go. I’ve got him.”
He’s barely done talking before my knees are hitting the floor next to Austin.
“Baby, I need you to tell me where all you’re hurt, so I don’t make it worse,” I tell her, terrified.
The twitch of her brows is the only indication that she’s heard me.
I reach to push her hair back away from her face, but she flinches, so I leave her be.
“Austin, can you stand up for me? Are your legs hurt? Your back? Your neck.”
She doesn’t answer me, but I’m honestly surprised she’s alive at this point. There’s a cut on her forehead and blood streaked down her face from it. The mess makes it hard to tell if her nose is broken or just also bleeding. It damn sure seems broken though.
She’s curled up on her right side so it’s hard to see that arm, but her left arm looks fine, other than redness that will surely bruise later. “Can you look at me, baby? Can you try?”
Her brows twitch and the sirens grow louder and her eyes barely crack open. “What happened?” she mumbles, barely audible over Wayne and Jameson’s bickering by the door.
I reach to push her hair behind her ear again, forgetting why I wasn’t touching her.
The confusion isn’t an incredible sign, but talking is good.
Talking is great, even. “You’re okay,” I tell her, not wanting to traumatize her right now if she can’t remember the specifics of what just happened.
No one needs to hear that their father beat them like this.
“Can you tell me where all you’re hurt?”
She opens her mouth to try, but shouts echo through the single-wide as the police arrive, far too late. Austin flinches at the volume and I reach over and try to muffle some of the sound for her by pressing the heel of my hand against her ear gently.
The officers who enter the room first take one look at the scene and immediately start screaming at Wayne to get on the ground, never even batting an eye at Jameson’s gun.
There are days when I can’t stand how the Whittaker name follows us around and grants us favors we didn’t ask for, but this isn’t one of them.
“What the fuck are you arresting me for! He’s the one pointing a gun at me!” Wayne shouts, backing himself in a corner away from the cops.
“Austin, stay awake for me, baby,” I beg her, pulling my hand away enough for her to hear me. She whimpers. “I know, Tex, I know.”
It feels like it takes forever for them to finally get Wayne cuffed and on the ground, but the second he is, they’re radioing for the paramedics to come in for Austin.
Everything goes from a crawl to a sprint from there. Two paramedics come in and I’m shuffled out of the way. The officers restraining Wayne fight to get him out of the room. Jameson’s beside me all of a sudden, gun gone. And Austin’s out.
She hadn’t answered any of their questions, but where her face had at least been showing some sort of indication that she realized they were speaking to her before, it was blank now, eyes closed and body deadweight.
“What happened?” No one answers me, speaking in some kind of fucking code to one another more urgently than they were a few moments ago. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Mr. Whittaker, please stay calm,” the female paramedic says as the two men leave the room. Jameson’s hand curls around my shoulder. “She’s passed out, most likely from the shock. I can focus better on taking care of her if I’m not worried about you, too.”
She says it in the no-nonsense way I can usually appreciate, but right now, I don’t appreciate a thing. “You’re not taking care of her, you’re just sitting there!”
“Maddie,” Jameson admonishes behind me and I shake off his hand.
“I’m waiting for my colleagues to return with the stretcher so we can get her into the ambulance. I’m also trying to keep track of her pulse, but I keep getting interrupted.” Her glare is enough to shut me up.
“No ambulance,” Austin mumbles, barely audible. A breath punches from my lungs in relief. “No insurance.”
Everyone ignores her, thankfully. The paramedics start questioning her again, but my girl is stubborn. She shakes her head when they ask her if she can get onto the stretcher on her own or if she needs help, and then flinches at the pain the action causes her. “No ambulance.”
“Austin, hush,” I tell her, the same demanding tone she’s used to hearing from me, but I’m surprised when it works. She doesn’t argue as they fit her with a neck brace and lift her onto the stretcher.
I follow after them like a puppy as they lift it and start making their way through the tight hallway, but hesitate as they transfer Austin to a gurney once they have the room to do so.
My stomach’s in my throat and I’d give anything to be alone right now so I can fall apart, but leaving her side sounds far worse.
The neighbors have gathered outside now, the blue and red lights beacons for gossip and sad eyes. Where was all of this concern while Austin was dealing with an abusive father for God knows how long?
“Hurry up if you’re riding with us,” the no-nonsense paramedic tells me as they load the gurney into the ambulance.
“Give me your gun and go,” Jameson says, snatching the weapon from my waistband before shoving me forward. “Text me when you know something. I’ll try to keep it from Kenny as long as I can.”
“Is she going to be okay?” I ask as I climb into the back of the ambulance, ignoring my brother unintentionally.
“Hard to know for sure yet, but I believe in her. She’s a strong one, I can tell.”
The sirens sound again and the ambulance pulls forward the second my ass hits the seat. My eyes flick over what I can see of Austin with a lump in my throat. There’s an IV in her hand and she’s asleep again, I think. I reach out to push the hair from her face, scared to touch anything else.
Beside me, the paramedic starts to pray under her breath.
I can’t decide if that’s a good sign or not.