Chapter 6 #2
When I nod, he places a kiss over the tears on each of my cheeks. “It’s my fault,” I whisper, and he lets out a heavy sigh, shaking his head.
He places the phone on the counter beside me and turns to retrieve the bags.
“Alright, Clark,” he says, once he’s slid a bag over each of my boots. “Her boots are covered, now what?”
“Deputy Lehmann will be there in a few minutes. If you think you can remove her boots without smearing things too much, you can proceed. Leave them on their side, then head out to your car.”
Bull looks up at me and I give him a nod. “They’re loose enough to slide in and out of,” I say.
“You’re doing great, Miss Tucker,” comes the sheriff’s voice over the speaker. “I know it’s a horrible thing, but you just stay calm. We’ll find out who did this.”
“It’s my fault,” I whisper again, feeling that in the deepest part of my soul. Bull’s jaw has clenched, and his nostrils are flared. Although he doesn’t speak, I can hear his voice in my head urging me to be quiet. Or maybe my common sense has just deepened its tone.
“Now, now, Miss Tucker. Mr. Wells said you were down in Rapid City tonight and visited with him afterwards. Although not well, I’ve known your grandfather many years and I’m certain he took comfort knowing you were safe tonight.”
Neither one of them understand, I think, and that’s when it occurs to me that I need to call my dad.
Before Bull has my second boot off, there’s a knock at the door leading into the garage, followed by a yell.
“Lawrence County Sheriff’s office, identify yourself.” A large bi-racial man steps through the door, his gun clasped in both hands but aimed at the floor.
“I’m Stryker Wells and this is Margo Tucker, she lives here with her grandfather,” Bull announces, slowly raising his hands with the bagged boot in one of them.
I’m not sure why but the blood seems grotesquely red through the plastic and a weird sound, some hybrid between a laugh and a sob bubbles out of me.
I open my mouth before I think better of questioning the tense of ‘lives’ right now, but quickly snap it shut.
They’re both looking at me like I’m unstable as it is.
“Lehmann,” Clark’s voice coming from the phone startles me.
“I’ll be there in fifteen. Stryker called it in.
Miss Tucker stepped into the crime scene upon her return, so I’ve had him wrap up her boots.
Once you escort them to his vehicle, he understands they’re not to leave.
I need you to secure the scene. Forensics is another twenty minutes away. ”
“Yes, sir,” Lehmann responds, holstering his gun as Clark hangs up. “Is there anyone else here?”
“Not that we know of,” Bull answers. “The garage door was up, and all the lights were off when we got here, but the TV was on. I hit the lights and that’s when we saw everything.”
Everything. Such a simple word for a man’s head being smashed open with the bronze bust of a horse. The horse was a gift from Granddad’s first wife, I think, before shaking my head and announcing, “I’m alright.”
“Are you carrying?” Lehmann asks Bull, his eyes shifting between me, Bull’s cut, and the bloody boots.
“My gun’s in the center console of my SUV,”
“I’ll follow you and Miss Tucker out there. I’d like to secure your weapon, then I’m going to clear the house,” he says, squaring his body up as if prepared for an argument.
“I’m willing to put the gun in the tire well, but I’m not surrendering it to you,” Bull says after a moment.
“Well, that sounds like a good compromise,” I say, hopping down off the counter and pointing to where there are shoes lined up on a mat behind Lehmann. “Excuse me, I’m going to need a fresh pair.”
At my first step, my knee wobbles and without a word, Bull scoops me into his arms and as we’re passing the deputy, he asks, “Can you grab a pair of boots for her?”
And the look on the man’s face will stay with me as long as I live.
This was clearly not what he signed up for.
“I need to call my dad,” I whisper when Bull’s putting me down in the back of his SUV. Grabbing for his hand, like it’s as important as oxygen right now, he nods his head, waiting to understand what I need from him.
“Sir? Let’s take care of your gun so I can clear the house,” the deputy interrupts us, handing me the Columbia boots I wear when running the plow.
Letting go of Bull’s hand, I put them on the floor and start jamming my feet in while I fish out my phone.
“Honey? What’s wrong?” My dad’s voice is instantly concerned and confused at my late-night call. “Honey?”
“Granddad,” I start before a sob wells out of me.
“Margo, take a breath. Are you with me?” he frantically asks as I break down crying at the sound of his voice. Looking up, Bull is there and takes the phone from me before I drop it.
With one arm holding me to his chest, Bull must hit speaker as he starts talking to Dad and over his shoulder I watch the deputy walk back into the house, pausing only to pull some sort of protection over his shoes before entering.
It’s easier to picture that man going room to room than to listen to Bull answering Dad’s questions, at least until I have no choice.
“Go-Go, I’ll get on the road as soon as possible. I don’t want you in that house alone, do you understand me?” Dad asks me, pulling me back to reality.
“I’ll bring her to my house,” Bull says. “You’re both welcome to stay there until George’s house is…”
His voice breaks off, not wanting to remind me of the scene inside.
“Stryker, thank you for getting there so fast, but—”
“We were on a date, Eli,” Bull tells him, clearing up any confusion about being here in an official capacity. “I was with Margo when she found your dad.”
“Can I have a moment with him?” I warily ask Bull. It’s cold out here, and it’s his SUV after all.
Handing me the phone and brushing his lips against my forehead, Bull backs away, giving us some semblance of privacy.
“Daddy, I think one of his brothers must have found me. Found me and did this to Granddad,” I gasp out the fear that’s gripped me since seeing his head wound.
“That doesn’t sound right to me, honey. Just stay calm and promise me you won’t say anything to anyone,” Dad pleads with me.
“I feel a little like I’m feeding my daughter to a lion, but staying at Stryker’s place is probably the safest place for you right now.
I can’t think of anyone foolish enough to go after you there. ”
“I’ll send you his address. Oh, the other cops just pulled in. I love you,” I tell him before quickly hanging up.
I tentatively slide out of the truck, hoping that my legs don’t fail me again, but that’s not even a concern as Bull is instantly at my side.
Lehmann exits the house as the sheriff joins us, letting us know that while he stayed out of the family room, it doesn’t look like any of the other rooms were disturbed.
“Okay, Miss Tucker, I’d like you to go over there with Deputy Deming and give her your statement.
Lehmann, you’ll take Stryker’s statement.
My body cam recorded our earlier call, but you might think of something you didn’t think mattered.
Try to remember everything you touched, maybe on other visits to the house.
” The sheriff is meticulous with his instructions.
“George wasn’t home yet when I picked Margo up, but Han was out here chopping wood,” Bull says, and it occurs to that he technically broke into the house yesterday.
“He came to see me the other day,” I blurt out, drawing looks from everyone.
“I was mainly up in her room,” Bull confirms, keeping his eyes on my face as he makes it sound like we’ve been screwing around.
“The sun was close to setting when we left earlier,” I say, looking back over my shoulder, looking to see that lights are shining from each window. “Granddad would have turned all the lights on as it got dark, but they were off when we got here. It was just the TV that was on.”
“We’ll print all the switches, don’t you worry.”
I suddenly remember his name is Clark as I nod my head and continue on to where Deming wants to interview me.
Once she’s finished, I cross back over to Bull and tilt my head at him. “Where would you put this on a scale of first dates?”
“All over the fucking board,” he chuckles, pulling me into his arms. “Good news, bad news. We have permission to leave, but you can’t take anything from the house for a few days. So in addition to those bras I promised you, we’ll pick up a few changes of clothes tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to,” I start until he quickly cuts me off. “I’m sorry you’re stuck with me.”
“I’m not,” he says so smoothly, I wonder if it’s a line. “Come on, I gotta get some sleep.”