Chapter 2 #2
“Good,” the young doctor says. “She’s stable and doing well. The wound was deep and punctured portions of both her kidney and large intestine, which are being repaired as we speak.”
“Fuck.”
He gives me a tight smile, but he doesn’t seem to be as concerned as I am, and for just a moment, I swear the fucker actually shrugs.
“Look, any damage to an internal organ is considered a severe injury. However, on the grand scale of internal injuries, Dr. Madden got lucky. A fraction to the right, and she would have been in trouble,” he tells me, calming the raging monster growing inside my chest. “These particular injuries should be quick, easy fixes, and if she were with any other doctor, she’d be out within the hour.
However, Dr. Levine is very thorough. She will double- and triple-check before letting Dr. Madden off her table, so I’d estimate potentially two hours before she’s taken to recovery. ”
I let out a breath and run my hands through my hair. “Thank fuck.”
The doctor offers a small nod before pointing back toward the door he just came through. “I should get back in there. I’ll let you know when you can sit with her.”
“Thanks.”
He disappears a lot quicker than the way he arrived, and as I turn to make my way back to my seat, I find myself pacing.
There’s potentially two hours before Harper will be out of surgery, maybe another two after that before she wakes, and I’m here in a cold waiting room, twiddling my fucking thumbs instead of searching every inch of that parking garage for any kind of clue as to who did this to my girl.
My gaze shifts toward the door, and while every fiber of my being holds me here, desperately needing to be as physically close to Harper as I can possibly be, I know she’d kick my ass for acting like such a little bitch.
She’d want me to canvass the parking garage with my colleagues and make sure they haven’t missed anything.
But more than that, she’d want me to have faith in Dr. Levine.
She’d want me to trust that her friend is capable of doing her job and that she’s never been in better hands.
And sure, in theory, I can trust that, but nothing is going to take the fear out of my chest until I have her in my arms with those stunning green eyes locked on mine.
Fuck, I really do sound like a little bitch.
Sue me. I don’t give a shit. I’d climb to the roof of this building and weep like a baby if it meant simply getting to lay my eyes on her.
There’s no line I wouldn’t cross, no mountain I wouldn’t climb.
I’ve told her more times than I can count that if she burns, I’m stepping right into the fire and burning along with her.
Harper-Rayn is my fucking world, and no bastard is going to take that away from me.
Knowing she’s in good hands, I make my way out of the hospital and back into the parking garage before slipping inside the stairwell and racing up to level three. The moment I open the door, I’m met with chaos.
Red and blue flashing lights linger in every corner of the third floor, and I make note of the familiar faces taking photos and documenting everything into evidence. I’m happy that this is being taken seriously.
Striding deeper onto the third floor, I follow the chaos and head straight toward the area that’s been sectioned off by police tape.
Slipping straight under it, I make my way toward the large pool of blood surrounded by yellow evidence cones, and with every step I take, my stomach clenches, knowing every drop of this belongs to Harper.
I swallow over the growing lump in my throat, and as I reach the edge of her pooled blood, I crouch down and look over it more closely.
This kind of blood loss isn’t usually compatible with life.
Not many could survive this, not without getting immediate help, and while I hate everything about this, I’m thankful that it happened so close to the hospital.
Had she been anywhere else, in any other parking garage, she wouldn’t have survived it.
My gaze lingers on the scene, taking in the smeared blood that leads toward the spilled contents of her handbag, and it guts me, realizing that she likely had to crawl to her bag to get her phone and call for help.
And fuck, I can’t even begin to imagine how hard that must have been.
Sure, I’ve been shot a handful of times and have caught my fair share of stray blades, but never while I was alone.
There’s always been someone there to save my ass, someone to call for help and stop the bleeding while I simply lie still and wait.
Real fucking heroic. But that’s the beauty of working with a team.
I don’t have to worry about being left for dead, not in the way that Harper had to.
A shadow falls over me as I survey Harper’s pool of blood, and I glance up over my shoulder to find Detective Gray looming over me as though I’m a suspect. “Slater,” he says, his gaze narrowed. “What are you doing at my crime scene?”
“The stab victim,” I say, rising to my full height until I’m the one looking down at him. “Dr. Madden, she’s my girlfriend.”
His eyes widen in surprise, and the suspicion quickly falls from his features, replaced by horror. “Ahh, fuck. Sorry, man. I had no idea. I would have called if I knew,” he says.
“It’s alright. The hospital called before she went into surgery.”
He nods. “You know how she’s doing? I’ve been checking in with them on her surgery, but they haven’t given any updates.”
“She’s doing alright,” I say. “Banged up, but alright. It’ll be another few hours before she’s out of surgery and awake, though I’m sure she’ll have plenty to say. She’ll want to find the bastard who did this.”
Gray scoffs and shakes his head, frustration burning in his dark stare.
“That could be easier said than done,” he tells me.
“Not unless Dr. Madden can offer us a smoking gun, because so far, we’ve got nothing.
This section of the parking garage isn’t covered by surveillance, and while we’ve only done preliminary checks for evidence, we’re not coming up with anything.
There are no prints left on her car. Nothing seems out of place.
No weapon. Nothing. It’s as though whoever did this is a ghost.”
I shake my head, looking over the crime scene before me. He’s wrong. There’s always evidence left behind. Always. It’s just a matter of finding it, and when I do, I’ll scrape it off the cold concrete with my teeth if it means finding the asshole who hurt my girl.
“Something will come up,” I say, unsure if I’m telling that to him or myself. “It has to.”
Gray lets out a heavy breath, and there’s the slightest drop in his shoulders, something only someone with my level of training would be able to pick up, but it’s a sign that he’s not hopeful.
He doesn’t think we’re going to find this guy, and knowing Gray, that means he’s probably not going to put the effort in that’s required to find a ghost.
“What can you tell me?” he asks, looking back at her car. “Was she coming or going?”
“Going,” I tell him. “She clocked off at four, then sent me a text saying that she was about to get in the car and come home. I was leaving the station at the same time, and when she wasn’t home when I got there, I knew something must have been wrong.”
“Has she had any issues with anyone? Any arguments? Fallouts? Anyone in particular that you think is worth looking into?”
I shake my head. “Nothing that I haven’t already taken care of.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Last month, the temp night janitor jumped her outside a tattoo parlor with a few friends. Took her car and left her for dead in an alley. She barely survived, but I handled it and made sure he wouldn’t touch her, or anyone else, again.”
“Fuck, Slater. You know better than that,” he grunts as though my actions were the direct reason for what happened here tonight. “How could you be so reckless? Tell me exactly what happened.”
I resist knocking every last one of his teeth out of his fucking mouth.
“As I said, I handled it. That’s all you need to know,” I confirm.
“He is no longer a problem. Now, as for anyone else you should be looking into, I’m not sure.
Harper has issues with her mother, and while the narcissistic bitch certainly enjoys sinking to new lows, she wouldn’t have done this. ”
“No one else has it out for her?”
I shake my head. “Not that I’m aware of.”
Gray narrows his gaze on me again. “And you said you had left the station at four?”
“The fuck are you asking me, Gray?”
“Just trying to narrow the suspect pool.”
“Station surveillance. Dash cam and GPS tracking in my truck. Home security. My every move has been accounted for over the past forty-eight hours. Take me off your fucking suspect list before I have to rattle your brain for even suggesting that I could have anything to do with hurting my woman.”
His hands fly up in surrender. “You know how it goes, Slater. Just doing my job.”
I scoff. “Right.”
Gray finds some bullshit excuse to move away, and as he does, I turn my attention back to the bloodstains on the concrete before following the little numbered yellow evidence cones, moving from one to another and searching for anything they might have missed during their initial comb-through of the crime scene.
If there’s something here to find, then I’ll be the one to find it.
Gray used to be an incredible detective. Ten years ago, when he was still trying to prove himself, he’d be closing cases left, right, and center, but since Blackstone has become overrun by crime, his suspect pool continues to grow right along with his open cases.
He doesn’t have what it takes to find a ghost, nor does he have the motivation to do it.
Unlike me. Because no other man would even consider crossing the kinds of lines I would cross just to keep my girl safe.
I would stroll through the darkest pits of hell with a fucking smile on my face if she asked me to.
And as I glance back at the massive pool of blood one more time, I know without a doubt that the darkest pits of hell are exactly where the bastard who did this will end up, even if it means putting him there with my own fucking bare hands.