23. Chapter 23
twenty-three
“Miss Walker, what will you do with them?” Amanda asked the social worker who finally arrived.
“Since you are neither a parent nor a guardian, I can’t talk to you about a case,” the middle-aged woman said. One of her shoulders sagged with the weight of her briefcase.
“They’re not a case. They are terrified children,” Amanda stated. “I may not have any relation with them, but I was the one who has been actively looking for them. Not the police, not the Children’s Services, and obviously not their parents.”
“I understand you may feel responsible for them, Miss Garner.” Miss Walker softened her voice. “But I haven’t spoken to the children yet. Once I get the general picture, I’ll figure out the best way to handle the situation.”
“They don’t want to talk to you or the police. They’re afraid of something.”
“Unfortunately, they don’t have a choice. We’re their best option at the moment until we know for sure why they ran away from home.”
“If they need a place to stay tonight or even longer, they can stay with me,” Amanda said.
“Are you a registered foster parent, Miss Garner?”
“No, but—”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t place children in just any home.” Miss Walker smiled apologetically. “Now, let me talk to them, and we’ll take it from there. Okay?”
Having no power to bar the social worker from the children, Amanda let the woman move past her toward the examination room.
“I’d like to be present while you talk to them.”
Amanda followed Miss Walker in.
“Now, Miss Garner—”
“It may ease them to see a familiar face. I’ve been with them all morning.”
Miss Walker heaved a sigh but didn’t argue before she announced herself and pulled the curtain open. Mona had her head resting on the side of the bed next to her sleeping brother. She straightened up with questioning eyes.
“Mona, my name is Miss Ann Walker. I’m with the DFCS—Family and Children services,” the social worker explained.
Mona turned a betrayed gaze over to Amanda.
“The hospital had to call them when they couldn’t reach your parents, Mona,” Amanda explained. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m here to help,” Miss Walker said. “To make sure you and your brother will be taken care of.”
“We can take care of ourselves,” Mona said, mistrust lacing her voice.
“I’m sure you can. You’ve kept yourself safe in the woods for a week, I heard,” Miss Walker said with a trace of admiration in her voice. She set her heavy bag on the floor and sat down on a nearby chair.
Mona glanced at Amanda, looking unsure. Amanda gave her an encouraging nod, hoping Mona would finally open up to someone.
“That must be scary to hunker down in the woods like that,” Miss Walker continued.
“It was fine. We camp a lot,” Mona said.
“You do? Who do you camp with?” Miss Walked leaned her arms on her thighs, focusing on Mona with an interested smile. “Your mom and dad?”
Amanda was impressed with how Miss Walker got Mona to talk. She sounded genuine. Maybe Amanda was too fast to judge the other woman.
Mona nodded. “Our dad likes to do outdoorsy stuff. He taught us how to pitch a tent, build a fire, fish, and all that stuff.”
“Those are important life skills. He sounds like a good father,” Miss Walker said. “Is he a good father, Mona?”
Mona looked at Miss Walker suspiciously, as if she was wondering if it was a trick question. She looked agitated again.
“I can’t talk about them. Please, don’t make me talk.”
“Okay, if we can’t talk about your parents, maybe you can talk about you and Beau,” Miss Walker said. “Can you tell us why you camped out in the woods alone?”
“I need to keep us safe,” Mona said, crying. “But I didn’t do a good job of keeping Beau safe. When I heard people calling our names this morning, we ran from camp. I wasn’t paying enough attention. I should’ve warned Beau about the snakes. It rained last night.”
Snakes escaped their flooded dens after a heavy rain. Though it wasn’t a storm, it’d rained enough for elevated snake activities in the woodsy area. The rangers had warned the searchers about it this morning.
“It’s not your fault, Mona,” Amanda couldn’t help but try to soothe her.
“Who do you need to keep safe from, Mona?” Miss Walker kept on point.
The girl shook her head just like she had earlier with Amanda.
“I can’t tell you.”
“Mona, whoever it is you’re afraid of can’t get to you anymore,” Miss Walker said. “We’ll make sure of that. You have many people who care about your safety. Take Miss Garner here. She’s been standing guard outside the curtain. She almost didn’t let me in.”
“That’s right. Dr. Rowland and I won’t let anybody hurt you,” Amanda agreed. “Now, we also have Miss Walker. Our good friend, Detective Alden, will protect you, too. You just have to tell us who we need to protect you from.”
Mona took her time staring at Amanda, then Miss Walker, before she finally spoke again.
“It’s not Beau and I that you need to save.”
Gene paced the entrance of the emergency room, waiting for Patrick to arrive. His friend finally texted him back with a cryptic one liner.
Patrick: On my way to the hospital.
It eased his mind after wondering what was going on all day. Not.
The urgent blaring of an ambulance stopped him short and triggered his honed instinct to get ready for an incoming trauma. But as a nurse and an orderly ran out to meet the ambulance, he remembered his place. He wasn’t a part of the team there and had to ease back.
Is it Patrick?
His heart pounding, Gene moved to see who they were pulling out of the ambulance without being in the way. They pulled a man in his mid-forties out of the ambulance. He was half-awake, blood stained the shoulder of his ripped polo-shirt, the wound compressed with gauze to staunch the bleeding, and he had an IV attached to his arm.
“A through-and-through gunshot wound to the shoulder,” the paramedic relayed the information Gene knew had been radioed en route as well. The paramedic continued spewing out the latest vital readings as they wheeled the man into a trauma room and Dr. Greene, whom he’d met earlier, ran in.
A blonde woman with a tear-streaked face who had jumped down from the ambulance ahead of the patient moved to follow, but her legs buckled under her. Gene was just in time to catch her.
“I need a wheelchair!” he shouted to a nearby orderly as he helped the woman.
From the look of her—pale complexion with blood on her clothes and hands—she must’ve been involved in the shooting.
“Are you hurt, ma’am?” Gene asked as he lowered her to the wheelchair.
“No. My husband…” she said, pointing to the patient.
“I got her,” the orderly assured Gene. “I’ll take her in.”
“Make sure someone looks her over, too,” Gene said, unable to help himself.
The orderly nodded as he pushed the chair.
Shit. He’d think the ER out here would get less action, but apparently not.
“Gene!”
Patrick got out of a patrol car and hurried to where Gene stood. His wrinkled dress shirt was untucked, and there was a bloody tear on his sleeve.
“What the hell happened to you?” Gene quickly checked on the arm where taped gauze covered a wound.
“A bullet graze,” Patrick answered, his face hard. “It’s fine.”
Gene peeled the gauze half-way back and examined the wound as he matched Patrick’s steps into the emergency room.
“It’s not just a graze. You’ll need a few stitches.”
“Not important right now. Did you see the victims come in? Man, gunshot wound? His wife with him?”
“Yeah. Looks like they’re taking him up to the operating room now.”
Gene pointed to the couple in question.
The wife sat shaking in her wheelchair, listening to the nurse explain what was happening.
“Your husband is lucky the bullet went through his shoulder without hitting any major arteries or organs. But the surgeon will check for any bullet or bone fragments and repair the damage. We’ll keep you updated.
“Now, let’s take a look at you. It looks like you’ve hurt your arm?” the nurse patiently asked as she wheeled the woman into an examination room.
“Nurse…” Patrick took a quick look at her badge. “…Paula. I’m Detective Patrick Alden. I’m working on a case involving Mr. and Mrs. Carson. Can you also update me about Mr. Carson’s surgery, please? And whenever you’re done with Mrs. Carson, I need to speak to her.”
The nurse just nodded and shut the curtain.
“Carson?” Gene pulled Patrick back. “Those are the kids’ parents?”
Patrick gave a grim nod. “Where are the kids? Are they okay?”
“They’re in the exam room. Amanda and a social worker are with them. Beau will be fine. But Mona still won’t tell us much,” Gene reported, then re-asked his question. “What the hell happened?”
“As you know, I went to the Carsons’ house. I had a domestic-abuse theory going in my head, and planned my approach accordingly,” Patrick said. “But when Mrs. Carson opened the door, I got a strange vibe from her. She was tensed, unfocused, and didn’t allow me in. She looked terrified. But when I mentioned the children, there was a flash of shock in her eyes, and relief.
“She said things that puzzled me at first, but before I could figure it out, another woman showed up at the door telling Mrs. Carson her husband needed her,” Patrick continued. “It was the way she looked at Mrs. Carson, and how Mrs. Carson immediately shriveled up that had me suspicious.”
Patrick turned his gaze to the closed curtain where Mrs. Carson was. The story baffled Gene, and he urged Patrick along.
“I called back-up and reassessed the situation. There was a stand-off and a lot of pieces I still need to put together,” Patrick said in a monotone voice. “That’s why I need to talk to Mrs. Carson. But I can tell you right now, what’s going on with the Carsons isn’t what we suspected at all.”