Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
MOJAVE
It was a relief when Frankie stopped sobbing and started talking again. She turned in my lap, eyeing Perry with a suspicious frown while still clinging to me like a little koala. “Who’re you?”
“My name’s Blake Perry, but my friends just call me Perry. What’s your name?”
“Frankie…” She hesitated, then added. “My real name’s Francine, but I hate it. Mojave calls me Frankie.”
“Frankie it is, then,” Perry said agreeably. “How are you feeling, Frankie?”
Her response didn’t even surprise me anymore. She gave the same answer to anyone she didn’t trust. “Fine. Why’d you come here?”
Tension rolled through me when I thought about Perry explaining PTSD to Frankie, but eased again when he gave a kid-friendly answer instead.
“I’m a friend of Mojave’s. Killian said he was upset and I wanted to see if I could help him feel better.
That’s what we do with good friends, right? We show up when they need us?”
She shrugged, but seemed to think about his words for a minute.
She slid out of my lap a second later, shuffling across the room and poking through some drawers.
I watched her go, the urge to pull her back and protect her still riding me and making it hard to think.
It wasn’t until she came back with a stack of square papers that I realized what she was doing. She handed me one with a smile.
“You had a dragon at your house. I want to make one. Show me?”
I huffed a small watery laugh at the request. She seemed alright if she was asking to do origami.
And it gave my hands something to do. I accepted the paper, joined her on the floor so we could use the coffee table to fold, and forced myself to focus on her.
I’d deal with the rest of it later when Perry and I could talk alone.
Right now, I needed to get my head on straight for Frankie.
“Do you know origami?” Frankie asked, offering Perry his own paper.
He took it with a soft smile. “I do, in fact. We’re making dragons?”
“Uh-huh. Mojave taught me some when I stayed at his house.”
I saw Perry’s curious look out of the corner of my eye, but I ignored him. Now wasn’t the time to get into that whole thing. It wouldn’t help me settle to talk about that. Instead, I told Frankie, “Perry’s the one who taught me.”
That got her attention and she practically bounced in her seat in excitement, the distrust I’d seen on her face when she first interacted with him disappearing in a flash.
“Really? What else can you make? Can you make a frog? Mojave taught me to make frogs. I want to bring them to school for my project, but they’re all small. Can you make bigger ones?”
Perry chuckled, amused. “I can, yeah. And I can help you do it too. What else has Mojave taught you to make?”
I listened to them chat about origami, most of my attention on the paper and what I was doing. Slowly, the tension in my shoulders eased, though the ache in the back of my head didn’t go away. That asshole should end up in hell for attacking with a little kid around. She could’ve gotten hurt.
Perry’s hand reached across the table, squeezing my shoulder like Killian did, rough enough to refocus me without hurting me. I shot him a weak smile. It was hard not to sink back into that headspace when my skull was throbbing with a constant reminder of what happened.
The door opened more quietly this time around and soft footsteps came into the room. Rachel’s perfume came next, somehow making me take a deep breath just to enjoy it and encouraging me to relax a little more.
“Ms. Rachel! We’re making dragons!” Frankie chirped happily.
Squatting beside me, Rachel smiled at Frankie. “That sounds fun. Is it hard?”
Frankie shrugged. “A little. What’s your favorite color? I want to make you one!”
“Oh, that’s really nice,” Rachel beamed. “I like purple. Do we have any purple paper?”
Frankie riffled through the stack of paper she’d brought over, pulling out a purple one with a triumphant grin. Rachel nodded at her.
“That looks perfect. I’m excited to see what you make.” Her attention swung to me and she looked almost hesitant as she murmured, “The EMTs want to take a look at you. Can they come in if they’re quiet?”
I grimaced at the thought, but Perry answered for me. “He’s not going to agree to go to a hospital, but a quick check wouldn’t hurt. He’s winced a few times and head injuries are nothing to fool around with. I’m guessing the officers also want a statement?”
“They do,” Rachel agreed. “But I talked to them and they agreed to only take a brief statement for now to give Mojave time to get checked out and reset before they come back to take a formal statement.”
Shooting her an appreciative glance, I leaned into it when she leaned to press a soft kiss against my temple before standing again. “I’m going to have the EMTs come in, check you out. Then one of the officers–”
“Hernandez,” I interjected. She was the only one I semi trusted.
Rachel didn't question the stipulation, just nodded. “Okay. I’ll ask Officer Hernandez to come in to take your statement once the EMTs are done.”
Since I couldn’t exactly avoid any of it, I just nodded, hiding another grimace from the movement when Frankie glanced my way. I distracted her by pointing at the paper she was folding. “Flip it upside down before the next step. Remember?”
“Oh, right,” she agreed, making a face. “This part is hard.”
“I’ll help you.” At least if I was doing that, I could distract myself from all activity in the room as the EMTs joined us and the lights were flicked on.
I winced at the sudden change, and Frankie caught it that time. She jerked her head up, scowling at the EMTs and demanded, “The lights gotta be off! His head hurts!”
One of the EMTs, a younger guy looking fresh out of college, shot her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, kiddo. We gotta have the lights on so we can check him out properly. I promise, we’ll make it quick.”
She seemed disgruntled by the refusal, but she was distracted when the other EMT moved to join us, her eyes going wide as she took the woman in.
“You’ve got short hair like me!”
The woman gave her attention to Frankie, smiling at her. “Hey, would you look at that. We match.”
“Short hair is better, right?” Frankie asked hopefully.
The EMT nodded seriously. “Oh definitely. With my job, I have to be somewhere quickly. I don’t want to have to rush to do my hair first. Shorter is way easier.”
Frankie looked satisfied by that, giving me a cheeky grin. “See? Short hair is better.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m still not cutting mine.”
She continued to tick off all the reasons short hair was better while the EMTs took my blood pressure and checked my eyes. The female EMT frowned when checking my pupils, asking, “Does the light hurt?”
“A little,” I agreed.
“On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?”
“Maybe a two or three,” I murmured, keeping a sharp eye on Frankie. She seemed really upset earlier about me being hurt and I didn't want to freak her out by admitting it hurt worse.
The EMT nodded. “That’s good. From what I’m seeing, it looks like you’ve got a mild concussion, nothing too worrisome. Right now, I’d suggest rest and monitoring for worsening symptoms. Unless you feel like you need to go to the hospital?”
“No,” I said quickly. “I’m fine.”
“You should be,” she agreed with a smile. “You can take some over the counter pain relief to help with the ache and keeping the room dimmed will help as well.”
The male EMT spoke up next. “We recommend no operating heavy machinery until you’ve been checked out by a physician.
You can expect some dizziness and a headache for a few days, so a checkup would probably be best. Nice bike in the driveway, by the way, but no riding it until the pain and dizziness pass at the very least.”
He popped one of those instant ice packs they carried on them, grimacing when I jumped and flinched. The woman shot him a dirty look for that. “Sorry. He’s in training,” she explained with a scowl.
“My bad,” he said apologetically, handing me the ice pack. “Ice will help too. Fifteen on, fifteen off. If you notice any nausea, double vision, or increased pain, go to the hospital immediately or call us back. Other than that, I think you’re good to go.”
They were nice enough to shut off the lights when they left, and Perry only opened the curtains a crack so Hernandez could see where she was going when she came in next.
She came in with a little notebook already in hand and kept a respectful distance, which I appreciated. I was still a little on edge and the interactions my crew had with the local PD had been more bad than good. As much as I believed she’d be the most neutral party, I still didn’t fully trust her.
“Okay,” she began, giving me a small nod in greeting.
“I spoke with the home owner and got her account of what happened, as well as the other witness. I know you were injured and Ms. Clark requested you give a formal statement later, but I just want to get the basics from you while it's still fresh, if that’s alright.”
I dipped my chin in agreement, but didn’t speak.
Prez hammered it into our heads that when we were around cops, we only answered direct questions.
As a lawyer, he knew just how much could be held against us and wanted us all prepared when the pigs first started picking up their harassment against us.
“Good. Let’s start with your name.”
I opened my mouth to answer with the name I always gave, then stopped. Hernandez must’ve picked up on that because she smirked and shook her head. “Legal name first. I’m fine using your preferred name in conversation, but for the paperwork, I need your legal name.”
With a sigh, I answered, “Weston Michaels. I go by Mojave.”
She wrote that down with a nod. “Okay, Mojave. Can you tell me in your own words what happened?”
When I cast a glance at Frankie, Perry spoke up. “Hey, kiddo, let’s go outside for a minute. We’ll let the grown ups talk and see if we can help Killian finish what he was doing before.”
She didn’t want to go, it was written all over her face. Even after she stood, she hovered by my shoulder, and she didn’t move until I gave her a reassuring smile. It felt more like a grimace, but it seemed to have the intended effect.
“I’m okay, Frankie. Go check and see if Rachel needs help.”
“Okay…” she agreed, albeit reluctantly, and she glanced over her shoulder a few times before following Perry out the back door.
“Is she your daughter?” Officer Hernandez asked.
“No,” I answered gruffly. “I was babysitting this weekend while her parents were away.”
Hopefully, this shit with Rachel’s ex wouldn’t make them finally decide I couldn’t be trusted. I wanted them to give a shit about their kid, but the more time I spent with Frankie, the more I wanted to stick around for her. If they took her away, I wasn’t sure what I’d do after that.