Chapter 50 Jagg
JAGG
Ipaced the tiny hospital waiting room like a caged animal, the stink of antiseptic clinging to the walls—and to me. But it wasn’t just bleach and chemicals. Her scent still haunted my skin. Vanilla. Coconut. Now sickening.
Impossible.
The rickety wall unit rattled but offered no relief from the suffocating heat.
Beige tiles stretched in a scuffed, grimy path beneath my boots, and I hated that half the marks were mine.
Six mismatched chairs circled a cracked coffee table covered in torn, greasy magazines and the sticky residue of other people’s tragedies.
Hospitals were hell. But waiting rooms? Waiting rooms were purgatory. No answers. Just time. Just silence. Just thoughts.
It had been exactly an hour and twelve minutes since I’d left the trailer park where Darby had taken three rounds to the chest, courtesy of Kenzo Rees.
He’d gone to the trailer park after my pep talk in the woods where I confronted him for following me.
“Do something to make them respect you.”…
The words slammed into my chest like a wrecking ball—for the hundredth time since I’d gotten the call.
Darby had been shot because of me. Instead of going home and staying out of the case, like I’d told him to, he’d decided to “man up” right then.
Followed up on a lead that I’d either missed, or hadn’t had the good sense to pull out of the kid.
Something else I missed.
I dragged my hands through my hair, the guilt twisting in my gut. My hand lowered to the bottle of pills in my pocket. A second passed, another, and another, and with a guttural groan I pulled my hand back up, reining in every bit of restraint I had to not punch a hole in the sheetrock.
Who the hell was I? Who had I become?
Years ago, none of this would have happened.
Years ago, I hadn’t met Sunny Harper.
What had she turned me into?
The most screwed up part? After I left her there in the woods, half-naked, in nothing but my T-shirt—my T-shirt—I’d almost turned around and gone back to pick her up.
While I knew Darby was bleeding to death from multiple gunshot wounds, I’d almost gone back to get the woman who’d lied to me and screwed me over like the chump I was.
I contemplated going back the entire drive to the crime scene, jumbled thoughts paralyzing me from taking any action, to make a solid decision either way.
I wasn’t this guy.
An irrational, indecisive, loose cannon.
Colson had been right, and when I’d arrived to the trailer park, it was obvious he wasn’t the only one who’d thought so.
I’d been cast out of most of the crime scene.
Despite the fact the Moon Magic Festival was in full swing at Devil’s Cove, it seemed like the entire town had shown up to the trailer park, bystanders allowed closer than I was.
But even though I was restricted to the sidelines, it wasn’t hard to miss the blue four-door sedan parked beside the shittiest trailer, or the excitement in Colson when he’d found Seagrave’s gun in Rees’s roach-infested hideout.
Kenzo Rees had killed Seagrave for revenge, case closed.
The credit fully owed to Officer Tommy Darby - the kid I’d sent into the mess in the first place.
According to a hyped-up medic, Rees’s trailer had been like a scene in Scarface, with blocks of cocaine stacked in the corners, half of which were labeled with the symbol of an infamous South American gang, where Julian Griggs had just returned from his “mission trip.” Julian had used the cover of God to monitor a drug-trafficking operation orchestrated by his new boss, Kenzo Rees, followed by an initiation that involved attacking Kenzo’s former girlfriend.
The scum of the earth unite.
According to pictures found in the cell phone hidden in the trailer, Rees had been following both Seagrave and Sunny since he’d been released from prison.
The night Sunny stole the Cedonia Scroll from Magic Maven’s, Rees had been following her.
The fact that Seagrave was the responding officer to the heist had been an opportunity too great for Rees to pass up.
He’d shot Seagrave while Sunny escaped. Almost two birds with one stone.
Almost.
According to the first responder at the trailer park, someone had called nine-one-one after hearing gunshots.
When the officer arrived at the scene, he found Darby surrounded by a pool of blood in the middle of the grass.
He had been shot at close range, two in the shoulder, one dangerously close to the heart.
He had a faint pulse when they strapped him onto the gurney, and that was literally all I knew at that moment, other than that it was all my fault.
Rees had fled the scene moments before the cops arrived, by another car, or on foot, no one knew. The one place I knew he wouldn’t go was the bungalow, though, because no one knew we were there. That had given me some sort of solace as I’d navigated my own nightmare.
Darby had been rushed to the hospital and was taken into surgery immediately. When I learned Darby’s only next of kin lived across the country, I knew someone needed to be there for him. Someone needed to be there if he pulled through.
It was the least I could do.
I looked at the clock again, then back to the tiles, then up at the clock one more time.
Sunny.
Over the last hour, I’d learned two things: There was nothing like total silence to force you to examine the thoughts in your own head, and two, not even Sunny’s betrayal could make me stop thinking about her.
I was a trainwreck of emotions ranging from extreme hatred for the woman, to extreme hatred for how I’d treated her after I found out she was the Bandit. I called her a bitch, spat at her face.
Spat. At her. Face.
I disgusted myself.
After I’d hung up the call with Colson, I’d taken one last look at Sunny and then left without another word, knowing I’d just destroyed everything between us.
A shadow on the wall caught my attention and I turned to see Dr. Buckley step into the room. He gave a quick glance around to ensure we were alone before refocusing on me.
“The surgeon is just finished up.”
“Is he going to make it?”
“Barely, Jagg, I’m not gonna lie. Just barely.” Buckley’s eyes were puffy, shaded, stressed. Whatever happened in that surgery room hadn’t been good, or easy.
“How did it go?”
“As I’m sure you know, Darby was shot three times.
Twice in the shoulder, and once in the chest. His shoulder is badly damaged and is going to need months of physical therapy, but the chest wound is what’s critical.
The bullet missed his heart and aorta by a millimeter.
His lung was punctured, but he’s lucky. Beyond lucky.
He’s running on machines and will stay in ICU for the foreseeable future.
The next twenty-four hours are critical. ”
I scrubbed my hand over my mouth.
“They catch the bastard?” Buckley asked.
“Not yet.”
“I hope you do. Poor kid. Too young to experience something like this.”
Too young.
“Y’all contact next of kin?” He asked.
I nodded. “It will be tomorrow until they get here. I’m it for now. Can I see him?”
“No, I’m sorry. They’re getting him situated now. No one will be allowed in the room for quite a while, and even then, he’ll be knocked out for hours.”
“I want you to call me with anything, any time. I want an update on his status every thirty minutes.”
Buckley nodded. “I’ll tell the nurse.” His thick, calloused hand clamped over my shoulder. “You alright, Jagg?”
I stepped out of his hold. “Every thirty minutes. Got it?”
Buckley nodded, again, then glanced around the waiting room again. “I’ll be here. We’ve already got our first overdose from the damn Moon Magic Festival. It’s going to be a long night.”
My gaze flickered out the window.
“Thanks, Buck. I’ll talk to you in thirty minutes.”
I didn’t wait for a response as I strode out of the room. I might have been restricted from the crime scene, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t go hunting.