25. Dominic #2
I run in her direction as she crawls over the grass toward me, terror and fright turning her face pale white. She’s shaking when I hoist her up and into my arms.
“My shoulder,” Este sobs. “He tried to kill me! Is he dead?”
I turn her around, still pointing her away from where the madman with a knife lies dead on her lawn.
“He’s dead, Este. You’re safe. I promise. Let’s get inside so I can assess your injury.”
“Are you—are you sure? How do you know he’s dead?” She asks nervously.
I grab her head as she tries to turn it to look at the dead man on her lawn.
“Don’t look! Baby, I hit him three times in the dead center of his chest.” I don’t tell her that he’s got a hole where his heart used to be.
“It fucking hurts!” Este cries as I examine her, staining my hands with her blood.
“I think he hit your shoulder blade. He missed your major arteries and structures. You’re going to be okay, baby,” I promise Este, maneuvering her in my arms and holding her head to my shoulder.
The wound on her back drips blood, so I only let her sob for a minute or two before I instruct her to go around the house and get inside.
I need to dress her wound, but first, I have a call to make.
“Wait for me in the kitchen,” I tell her. “I need to get the cops over here, and you don’t need to see a dead body today. Okay?”
She wipes her tears and nods, a glint in her eye. She’s brave and a survivor, and she knows it.
“You’ve got this, baby. I’ll be inside in five.”
Este disappears around the back of the house, and I call 911 and let them know I’ve found the man who stabbed Mac in his tiny home residence, and that I’ve discharged my firearm and taken him down on the front lawn of Este’s house.
“Send an ambulance. She’s been stabbed in the shoulder blade,” I tell them.
“Sir, are you injured? How many ambulances do you need?” the 911 operator asks.
“Just one. I’m unharmed. I had to shoot him after he stabbed Este. I don’t want her to see this guy dead on her front lawn, so she’s waiting inside. I’ll be with her in the living room. Please send the cops in the front door.”
“I will, sir.”
“Any update on Mac at the other crime scene? He’s a friend of mine, and he’s my patient. I’m a psychiatrist.”
“I don’t have that information, I’m sorry. The cops are asking if there’s a way to cross the creek?”
“Not without knowing the exact location of the ladder to get out of it. It’s too bloated from all the rain. They’ll get here faster if they take their cruisers around the block.”
“Thank you. They’re on their way, just hang tight.”
We hang up, and I join a shaking, blubbering Este at the kitchen table. She’s got two bottles of water in front of her, and she hands me one.
“All I need is you,” I tell her before I pull her up into my arms. She sobs against my shoulder as I hold her tight and reassure her over and over again that she’s going to be okay.
“How did you know I needed you?” Este turns her red-rimmed eyes up to mine while I hold the gauze steady on her shoulder wound.
“I saw your car on my way home, and then I discovered Mac had been stabbed in his tiny house. He told me the guy who did it jumped into the creek, and I figured he’d find his way out the other side to your place. I knew you were here, and I had to get to you.”
Tears pour from her eyes, and I catch them with my fingertips, and then I kiss them away as screaming sirens grow ever closer. I grab a clean dishcloth and press it to her wound, mopping up the blood that’s ruined her shirt. By now, the bleeding has slowed significantly, which is a relief.
“Okay, listen. They might take me to jail. Just tell them exactly what happened. If they arrest me, call Finn. His number is in here under F.” I slide my phone into her dress pocket, just as a cop slams his fist into the front door.
“Open up!” The police officer yells.
“I’m unarmed,” I yell back as I approach the door and push it open.
A swarm of cops enters, and someone shoves my hands behind my back and cuffs me way too tightly. They scream in my face, demanding my ID, as I try to explain it’s in my back pocket.
It’s chaos until I see my old buddy Jackson Garcia, and he taps the shoulder of the officer who just cuffed me.
“Hey, Henderson. This is the one who called 911 from the first scene, Dominic Davis. He’s a former Army Ranger medic, a local psychiatrist, and an all-around good guy. Uncuff him.”
My wrists are mine again. I sigh in relief.
“Thanks, Jackson. My gun is safe and unloaded on the kitchen table. I had to kill the guy after he stabbed Este.”
“How about we sit down, and you tell me exactly what happened?” Jackson suggests, motioning toward the couch. I move over to it, and then I remember Este’s shoulder wound.
“She needs to get in the ambulance. She’s got a stab wound to the shoulder that needs to be dressed, and I’m sure some pain medication, maybe a light sedative, might be in order after she was accosted in her driveway by a lunatic with a knife.”
“Yeah, yeah. Reynolds, get her to the ambo,” Jackson tells another officer, who seems mostly annoyed by the order. I don’t like the way he grabs Este roughly. She yanks back from him and glares at him with an angry look, and he gentles up his approach.
Este makes a big deal about not wanting to go to the hospital without me, so Jackson heads to the door and convinces her she needs to get checked out.
“I’ll drive Dominic to the hospital as soon as we’re through,” Jackson promises.
“Please go, Este. I’ll be there soon!” I hate that she has to go, and I have to stay.
She’s sobbing as they lead her away to the ambulance in the driveway, and my heart breaks with every step she takes away from me.
“So, let’s start at the beginning. You get home, you stop over by the guys grilling, and Shep invites you to stay for dinner. Start there.” Jackson gives me a sympathetic look and then nods.
After I go over my account several times in full detail, Jackson steps away to make a phone call.
“DA says to cut you loose. We’ll take your weapon as part of the ongoing investigation, but you will receive it back. I assume you have plenty of other weapons to use in the meantime.” He sends me a smile.
I look at him quizzically. “So, are you telling me I’m free to go? After I just had to kill that guy?”
“Darryl Osteen. Ran his name, and he’s got a list full of priors, including aggravated assault.
So what I’m telling you is, get in my cruiser so I can take you to see your girlfriend at the hospital.
Your buddy Mac is going to make it, too.
Just got word. Mac and Este will be fine, and the world’s out one more crazed lunatic—no big loss.
This place will be a crime scene the rest of the night at least, so you might want to make alternate sleeping arrangements. ”
“Can we swing by my place real fast?” I ask.
When he nods, and we get into the car and drive the block to my house, I run inside and pack a suitcase. Perhaps it’s crazy thinking, but it’s been a crazy day.
Maybe, against all odds, Este will have me back.
I’ll beg her on my knees if that’s what it takes.