Chapter 13 #2
The rest of the day passed quickly into night with a few minor calls and checking on a couple of our frequent flyers—patients who called nine-one-one regularly.
In fact, Thomas and I had so far been the only ones called out all day, which was both a blessing and a curse for the firefighters.
Blessing, because it meant no structures were burning down, people weren’t losing property, and no lives were in danger.
But a curse, because I knew they were bored out of their minds.
In the middle of the night, I’d barely dozed off to sleep after returning from an alcohol poisoning call at the Swallow, when the bells went off again.
“Truck twenty-seven, engine forty-five, ambulance thirty-five. Multiple vehicle accident, highway fifty-one.”
As we headed out toward the trucks and ambo, Crew groaned from behind me.
“First, and probably only, call of the night, and it’s not even a fire.”
“Who knows,” I shot back. “The car might light up!”
He grinned. “Appreciate the optimism.”
Dusk Valley was pretty remote compared to other cities in the state, but unfortunately, we were the closest to a lot of these state highways that, especially at night, saw a lot of accidents. People got too ballsy and drove too fast. They crashed into deer or drove drunk.
When we arrived at the scene, a few sheriffs’ deputies—including Johns—were already present. One victim sat on the ground near the edge of the asphalt, hands cuffed in front of him.
“Got two pinned in!” Johns shouted at Crew as he and his men climbed out of the truck. I had to do a double take when the fourth member appeared, reminding myself their little crew had changed since the summer.
The new guy was only a few months out of the state’s fire academy, but he seemed to be working out okay. At least, I hadn’t heard anything to the contrary.
“We’re on it,” Burns responded to Johns, knowing his captain wasn’t about to give the undersheriff—no, interim sheriff, I reminded myself wryly—the time of day.
There was no love lost between Crew and Johns, but they set it aside for situations like this—mainly by ignoring each other.
“Thomas, get over there and assist. I’ll call in reinforcements then check out this guy.”
“You got it, boss,” Thomas said, nodding before shuffling off in the direction of the other vehicle.
Opening the line on my radio, I requested two more ambulances, then headed for Johns, who stood sentinel next to the guy on the ground.
When I knelt in front of Mr. Handcuffed, I did a cursory examination. A deep gash over his left eyebrow was leaking blood down his face, mingling with more coming out of his nose, which was bent at an unfortunate angle.
He also smelled so strongly of alcohol it took my breath away.
The man was about my age, though he looked at least two decades older, likely thanks to his alcohol consumption.
I’d bet good money this wasn’t his first alcohol-related run-in with the law.
I reached for the penlight in my pocket, but before I could grasp it, a shiver raced down my spine, the hair on the back of my neck rising. The strangest sensation swept over me, like I was being watched.
Turning, I peered into the darkness beyond the glow of the emergency lights. Naturally, there was no one there.
“Sutton?” Johns asked. “You okay?”
“What? Oh, yeah. Fine. I just thought…never mind.” I shook it off and returned to my task.
Clicking on the penlight, I flashed it in each of Mr. Handcuff’s eyes. His pupils were responsive, dilating and contracting as they should, but his sclera was badly bloodshot.
“Sir, can you tell me your name?”
“Matty.”
“Matty here is a frequent flyer,” Johns said, his teeth clenched, confirming my earlier assumption.
“Okay, great, Matty. How many fingers am I holding up?” I gave him a peace sign.
He squinted one eye closed, his left eye, then winced but said, “Two.”
“Good.” I glanced up at Johns, who eyed us warily, as though afraid Matty would lunge for me.
Little did he know I could handle myself.
“Am I going to jail?” Matty slurred.
“Yes, you stupid fuck.”
I cut Johns with a look that said, Knock it off.
“He doesn’t seem to have a concussion,” I said as I rifled through my medical kit, coming out with some gauze, a wrap, and tape. “I assume you ran a field sobriety test?”
Johns snorted. “Didn’t really need to.”
Fair enough. “Are you accompanying him to Memorial?”
“Nah, I’ll pass it off on one of the other guys.”
Right then, the other two ambulances I’d called for pulled up to the scene, taking over at the other vehicle. Thomas walked over as Johns turned an assessing gaze on me and asked, “You doing okay?”
“Why wouldn’t she be?” Thomas asked when he reached my side.
I sighed deeply. I hadn’t wanted anyone to know about my ordeal, least of all my partner.
He was a great guy, and I knew he meant well, but he also had a habit of…
parenting me. He’d been at this job a long time, had come to Dusk Valley with his wife to settle down after twenty years working in Idaho Falls.
I’d appreciated his guidance, though I technically outranked him, but I hated when he got involved in my personal life.
I had a father of my own, thank you very much.
Not that he worried too much about me, but whatever. Not the point.
“She had a break-in the other night,” Johns said, entirely ignorant of the tension that had taken up residence in my shoulders.
Thomas gasped. “Why didn’t you come to me immediately? You know I live right around the corner!”
Logically, sure, that would’ve made more sense than my hike through the woods in the dead of night, but I hadn’t been thinking logically at the time.
“It all happened so fast,” I said, as though that explained everything. “I went right to the sheriff.”
Incorrectly interpreting my meaning, Thomas clapped Johns on the shoulder. “Thanks for taking care of her.”
“Yeah, just doing my job,” Johns said, not bothering to correct Thomas before pacing away, checking on the status of the other two victims.
Thomas and I got Matty on his feet and shuffled slowly to our rig, where we loaded him in. A deputy climbed into the back with him and Thomas, who for once, was letting me drive.
I knew it was only because he was too overprotective to leave me in the back with a drunken wildcard like Matty, police presence or not, and that was fine. I’d been starting to get a contact buzz from proximity.
Waking up the afternoon following a shift was always disorienting. After being awake for twenty-four hours with glorified naps between calls, it took a bit to regulate myself.
But I never liked to sleep too late, otherwise I’d entirely mess up my sleep schedule for the next night. I’d set an alarm for noon—a measly four hours after I got home, but better than nothing.
I threw on sweats more appropriate than my silky pajamas and headed downstairs, desperate for coffee.
“Hey,” I said as I breezed into the main room, finding Lane on the couch. Half of his first floor was a wide-open space that included the living, dining, and kitchen.
He lifted his hand in greeting but didn’t speak, and that’s when I heard a second voice coming out of his phone.
A woman.
Addie?
Grabbing the milk out of the fridge—it would have to suffice until I had a chance to make a grocery run—I added it to a mug, then topped it with coffee. Turning toward Lane, I wiggled it in his direction, silently asking if he wanted more, and he shook his head.
For a moment, I stood at the island and stared at him. He had relaxed against the couch, phone on speaker and resting on one of those thick thighs, arms behind his head.
Then I realized I was eavesdropping, and snapped myself out of it, shuffling from the room.
I’d barely passed out of Lane’s sight when Addie asked, “Did I hear someone else there?”
Peeking around the corner, I watched as Lane dragged a hand down his face.
His stressed/nervous tic.
“Yeah,” he said, sounding resigned. “It’s, uh, Sutton.”
Addie was silent for several beats before saying, “That was fast.”
The hell was that supposed to mean?
“It’s not like that,” Lane said quickly. “Someone broke into her house the other night and destroyed it. She needed somewhere to stay.”
Addie snorted. “And you’re the only person in the world who has a spare room?”
“Addie…” Lane warned.
“Well, I hope she’s okay.” Yeah, you sure sound like it. “I’ll keep you updated on the Jane Doe thing,” she added tersely, then hung up.
“Fuck,” Lane muttered.
Pulled from my hiding place by some invisible force, I stepped out into the living room. Lane’s wide eyes snapped to me.
“Trouble in paradise?” I couldn’t resist asking.
He grumbled low in warning. “It’s not like that.”
“Funny,” I said. “I just heard you say the same thing to her. Which one of us are you lying to?”
“Neither,” he said in a way that told me maybe the person he was actually lying to was himself. “I’m not lying to either of you.”
I hummed noncommittally, then remembered something else Addie had said.
“What’s going on with Jane Doe?”
Of course, I knew exactly who Addie had been referencing. We’d found that poor woman several months ago, strangled to death in the foothills of the mountains outside town. She still didn’t even have a name.
“Turns out her case is tied to an active serial killer, so the FBI is officially taking it off my hands.”
“Well, that’s good, right? The movement on the case, I mean.”
“Yeah, sure,” he said absently, not meeting my gaze as he scratched his fingers through the stubble on his chin, seeming a million miles away.
Deciding to leave him to it, I retreated, taking my coffee up to my room to shower.
Lane was obviously lying to himself about his feelings, and I wasn’t about to get caught up in whatever drama he had with Addie.
I’d suffered enough.