Radclyffe - Sheltering Dunes

“Hey,” Bri said. “Sorry to get you up, but I thought you’d want to know someone jumped Flynn and another girl tonight.”

“Is Flynn all right?” Allie pushed up in bed and Ash, waking instantly, wrapped an arm around her waist. “What happened?”

“Not sure yet. We’re on the way to the clinic right now.”

“The girl…Hispanic, early twenties, about five-seven, black hair, brown eyes?”

“Sounds right. That the one?”

“Yeah. I’ll be there in ten.”

“Roger that.”

Allie disconnected and shoved the covers aside. “I have to go in. Sorry.”

Ash clicked on the lamp on her side of the bed. “What’s going on?”

“That was Bri. Flynn and Mica—the woman I told you about—were assaulted. That’s all I know.” Allie grabbed a pair of jeans off the shelf in the closet. Her hands were shaking.

“How bad?”

“I don’t know. Damn it. I knew something was going on. Tell me this is a coincidence.” Allie yanked a shirt off a hanger. “If I’d questioned her the way I wanted to instead of waiting for the damn computer checks, I might have—”

“Hey.” Ash’s hands came down on Allie’s shoulders, and she drew Allie back against her chest. Ash kissed her temple. “Facts first, right?”

Allie took a breath and gave herself a second to let Ash’s calm strength settle her. She didn’t usually get emotional where work was concerned. If Ash was hurt, yeah, her world tilted. Flynn was a friend—okay, a little more than a friend; the exact definition escaped her—but that still didn’t explain why she felt so guilty. “I feel like this is my fault, somehow. Like I should know what’s going on and I don’t.”

“Babe,” Ash murmured, turning Allie to face her. “You’re doing all you can do. Go find out what’s going on and take it from there. You’re a good cop. Better than you should be for someone your age.”

Allie laughed and slugged Ash softly in the shoulder with her fist. “Don’t go pulling that older and wiser crap on me.”

Ash grinned. “Well, as soon as you get your temper up, you start thinking more clearly.”

Allie kissed Ash hard on the mouth. First she’d make sure Flynn was all right, then she’d find out who Mica really was, and she wouldn’t stop digging until she had the answers she wanted. “I love you.”

“Same here. Take it easy out there, okay?”

“I always do.”

*

The back doors of the medic unit opened, and Mica looked out on the same parking lot she’d seen before. The same clinic, only lit tonight by floods at the corners of the roof and over the door. She was strapped to the same stretcher, but this time she was awake and Flynn was on a stretcher across from her. A lot more police cars pulled in around them than the first time too.

Her chest seized. This was bad. She’d gotten away the last time before she’d been asked questions she couldn’t answer, but she wasn’t so sure she could do that again. Too many cops and a lot more questions. Then there was Flynn. She turned her head, peering around the blond EMT who was bent over Flynn in the tight space, organizing the lines and tubes and monitors attached to her. Flynn had a plastic collar Velcroed around her neck, an IV in her arm, and a bunch of wires attached to her chest. Her eyes were open, but in the flat yellow light of the ceiling dome, she looked dead. Dead people got this look about them—their eyes stopped shining the second their soul, or whatever it was inside them, disappeared.

Mica’s heart hammered hard against the inside of her ribs.

“Flynn?” Mica wet her dry lips. “Flynn, are you okay?”

Flynn’s eyelids flickered and she turned her head a tiny bit until the collar stopped her. “Yeah. You?”

“Good. I’m good.” Mica got her breath back and the pain around her heart lessened. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? Did you kick me?” Flynn’s voice was hoarse, lower than it usually was.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do, and there’s no reason for you to be sorry.” Flynn raised the hand that wasn’t strapped down and tugged at the collar on her neck. “Come on, Chris, I don’t need this. It’s driving me crazy.”

“Sorry, Flynn,” Chris said. “You know the drill. It looks like somebody played soccer with your head. The immobilizer stays on until Tory says it can come off.”

The male paramedic who’d been driving climbed into the back, and Mica gripped the stretcher for the trip into the clinic. The medics took Flynn out first.

“I want to go with her,” Mica called. “Let me out. I don’t need to be—”

Chris knelt by her side. “You’ll be inside in just a second. She’s in good hands. Nobody’s going to let anything happen to Flynn.”

“Yeah, sure.” Mica knew better. No one was ever safe. Anything could happen to Flynn, and no one would tell her.

*

Tory heard familiar footsteps coming down the hall outside her office. She didn’t have to see Reese’s face to know that was her. Reese might be a cop now, but she walked like a marine. Sharp, steady, perfectly even steps, as if she always knew her destination and never wavered. Warm heat flooded through Tory’s chest. The thing she loved best about Reese was how steady she always was. How sure and strong. Even when she was hurt and frightened, Reese never wavered.

“Incoming,” Reese said from the doorway.

“I heard the sirens. How bad?”

“Both walking wounded. I’ll leave the rest up to you.” Reese leaned against the doorway, her brow faintly furrowed. “You didn’t get much sleep. How are you feeling?”

Tory smiled. “Is this the first of the million times you plan to ask me that in the next nine months?”

Reese’s brows drew down further. “Try two million.”

Tory laughed. “I’m fine. If you’ll remember the last time, I—”

“I remember, Tor,” Reese said darkly.

Tory came around her desk and motioned Reese in. “Close the door.”

Reese pulled the door closed, and when she met Tory in the middle of the room, Tory pressed her palms to Reese’s chest and kissed her. “I’ve only got a second. I know you remember the last time. You remember how it ended. Try to remember how exciting it was, how miraculous, to feel the baby kick the first time, and think about Reggie and all she’s given us. I’m going to be fine. Promise me you’ll try not to worry.”

Reese slid her hand around the back of Tory’s neck and tugged her closer. “I can’t promise that. But I can promise I’ll enjoy every second of this pregnancy.”

“Well, maybe not the morning sickness part. I won’t ask that of you.” Tory kissed her again and stepped away. “I’ve got to go.”

“I’ll wait. I’ll need statements from them.”

“I’ll let you know as soon as you can see them.” Tory went into the hall and met Chris Connelly, one of the local EMTs, outside treatment room one. Another EMT was assisting a patient in treatment room two. “Which one first?”

“This one,” Chris said, indicating the room behind her. “The patient in two is stable—a few lacerations and abrasions, some blunt force trauma to her neck, but none of it looks too serious. Her vital signs are stable, no loss of consciousness.” She grimaced. “Flynn, on the other hand, took a beating. She was disoriented at the scene, but no documented loss of consciousness. She’s got a significant contusion on her right temple and localized right rib tenderness. Possibly fractures.”

“All right, I’ll start with her. Can one of you stay with the other patient just to be sure she remains stable?”

“Yeah, I’ll radio base we’re not available for calls until you give us the go-ahead.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. I can wake Nita up, but by the time she gets here, I’ll probably have a chance to look at both of them.”