Читать книгу The Texas Lawman's Woman - Cathy Gillen Thacker - Страница 11

Chapter Two

“Yeah, well, I don’t believe it,” Rio Vasquez said in the locker room as he changed into his tan uniform. “No woman ever forgives a man for standing her up on one of the most important nights of her life.”

Colt fastened his holster around his waist. “We’re adults now. We were kids when all that went down.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Rio sat down to put on his boots. “The heart is still the heart.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Colt checked his flashlight and his gun. “You hot-blooded Latinos think you know everything there is to know about passion.”

“We do.” Rio stood and slapped his pal amicably on the shoulder. “And what my romantic radar says is that no grudge held that long is ever going to be set aside that easily.”

“Meaning what?” Colt joked back, studying Rio’s circumspect expression. “You think Shelley’s just pretending to forgive me?”

His friend shrugged. “I’m sure in her rational mind she thinks she ought to let the past be just that. Whether or not she can ever really trust you not to hurt her again is another matter entirely.”

Rio had a point, Colt conceded, as he walked out to his squad car to begin his nightly patrol. His truce with Shelley had come about a lot more quickly than he ever would have guessed possible. Partly because they both had a lot more life experience and hence were now able to sort out what was important and what wasn’t. Another factor was the pressure of the wedding, and their mutual desire to do right by their friends. But there were lingering feelings, of that he was sure.

He’d have liked to stay longer on her porch. Get caught up on more than just the basics. Forge new bonds.

But it had been clear, despite her deeply ingrained Texas charm and hospitality, that as soon as the olive branch was extended, she’d wanted him and Buddy out and on their way.

And that had to mean something. He just wasn’t sure what.

* * *

AT BEDTIME, SHELLEY OPENED UP the drawer in Austin’s changing table and got her second big surprise of the day. “Oh, no. Tell me we’re not out of diapers!” She rushed to the closet, then the diaper bag, Austin toddling along right behind her. Nothing. Which meant she was going to have to put Austin in the car and run out to get another box of disposables.

Not that Austin, who’d had an unusually long and late nap, seemed to mind being carried out to her Prius shortly after 9:00 p.m. “We go bye-bye,” he announced cheerfully.

“One of these days we’ll be completely unpacked and then it will be a lot easier to get organized,” Shelley promised as she strapped Austin into his car seat.

“Diapers!” Austin shouted, waving his arms.

Well, Shelley thought wearily, at least her son knew what they were after. Unfortunately, the only store open that late was on the outskirts of town, near the entrance to the Lake Laramie State Park grounds. For once, the Mega-Mart was not crowded with summer campers, so Shelley and Austin were able to zip in and out.

The problem appeared en route home as dusk was falling. Shelley had just turned onto the two-lane highway toward town and gone about a half mile when a pair of headlights coming the opposite direction wove into her lane, then out again, then back toward her.

Terrified, she hit her horn and brake simultaneously, steering her car as far onto the shoulder as she could go without actually swerving off the road. And still the oncoming vehicle kept heading right for her, weaving back and forth. Knowing she had no choice if she wanted to avoid a collision, Shelley swung the steering wheel farther right and veered off the highway to get out of the way of the wildly careening vehicle.

Her car shot forward as it completely cleared the shoulder and the low ditch beside it, then slammed down on the rough sagebrush-covered ground, bumping hard once, with teeth-clenching force, and then, to a lesser degree, again and again and again.

Finally, the Prius ground to a halt while the big sedan that had almost crashed into her continued on its way, not slowing down in the slightest as it swerved into the wrong lane yet again.

Only this time, she noted in slow-motion horror, the SUV coming toward it was not able to react fast enough. Despite the squealing brakes and blaring horn, the two vehicles collided with a huge boom. A dark-colored SUV went airborne before crash-landing onto its side. The instigating white sedan was thrust into a field one hundred yards south of Shelley’s Prius. And then all fell horribly silent.

Hands shaking, Shelley turned off her ignition but kept the headlights on. She hit the emergency flashers and swung around to look at Austin. He was still strapped safely into his car seat, but looked as stunned and shell-shocked by their unexpected leap off the road and near miss as she felt.

Her heart pounding, Shelley scrambled out of the car, opened the back door and removed her son from his car seat, clutching him fiercely.

My heaven, that had been close!

“You okay, li’l fella?” Shelley asked, stroking his back.

Austin nodded. He put his head on her chest. She could feel him trembling. Poor thing. Still cuddling her son in her arms, Shelley reached for her phone and dialed 9-1-1. The operator came on the line. Shelley quickly described what had happened.

“Is anyone hurt?”

“I don’t know.” She looked at the crash scene, which was eerily still. “I can’t tell from here.”

“Can you get a visual for us? So we’ll have an idea how many ambulances to send?”

Her whole body quaking with a mixture of adrenaline and nerves, Shelley strapped Austin in his seat, got back in the car, and did as required. Emergency lights flashing the entire way, she drove slowly through the field to the scene of the accident. The SUV that had taken the hit had flipped and was still on its side in a nearby field. It had a New York license plate and two passengers inside.

The sedan that had caused the crash bore Texas plates. The man who’d been driving was sitting behind a deployed airbag that looked like it had deflated. He was shouting belligerently in a slurred voice.

Shelley got back on the line and told the operator what she knew.

Fortunately, by the time she had finished, several other motorists were on the scene. One immediately set out flares to stop oncoming traffic. Another went over to the SUV. Everyone left their own vehicles’ lights on to better illuminate the scene.

Moments later, Shelley couldn’t help noticing that Austin, who normally chattered nonstop while they were in the car, was still ominously silent. She pivoted around in her seat to face him. Her toddler was staring at the scene uncomprehendingly. “Austin?” she asked, aware she was trapped now by all the vehicles, too. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t respond. Just continued to stare in that same dazed, emotionless way.

Panicked, Shelley shut down her ignition and jumped out of the car. She reached in to release Austin from his safety harness. He had seemed fine a moment ago, but was it possible he’d somehow gotten hurt without her knowledge? Shelley checked her son over but found nothing—no cuts, bruises or any outward sign of injury.

A Laramie County Sheriff’s Department car drove up, siren blaring, lights flashing. The officer parked horizontally across the road, further blocking off the scene. Deputy Colt McCabe stepped out wearing a tan uniform.

As he strode toward her, Shelley had never been so glad to see anyone in her life.

Handsome brow furrowed in concern, he asked, “Were you involved?”

She nodded. “I was run off the road by that white sedan, just before those two vehicles crashed.”

A siren blared in the distance.

“Is Austin okay?”

“I’m not sure. I—” Austin rested limply in her arms, and he looked awfully pale in the bright yellow headlights. He still wasn’t reacting much. She’d half expected him to be crying by now; there was so much chaos and confusion. The fact he wasn’t alarmed her.

“He might be going into shock.” Colt went back to his squad car, got a blanket out of the trunk. He brought it back to her. “Here. Put this around him. Keep him warm. We’ll get him to the E.R., too.”

The siren grew louder, then fell silent as another squad car arrived and parked horizontally to block off the opposite direction. Deputy Rio Vasquez stepped out. And still no paramedics, ambulances or fire trucks, Shelley noted in frustration, although to her relief she hadn’t yet noticed smoke or leaking gasoline.

“It’s going to be okay,” Colt told Shelley firmly, wrapping a reassuring arm around her.

Rio headed for the sedan to assess injuries. Colt took the SUV. While they did their jobs, Shelley paced, Austin cradled in her arms, turning him so he could no longer see the crash site. In the background she heard the blur of angry voices, apportioning blame. All the airbags had gone off, and had since deflated, but there were still possible injuries, so everyone was advised to stay put until the paramedics arrived. Unfortunately, the driver of the sedan got out of his car anyway. He pushed past Rio and the people trying to help him and wove toward Shelley drunkenly.

“What the heck is going on here?” he slurred, a cut streaming blood from his scalp.

Colt moved to assist. “Mr. Zellecky?”

The elderly man lurched unsteadily. “No need for alarm. Everything’s fine.”

“What’s the ETA on the paramedics?” Colt asked into the radio on his shoulder.

“Another five minutes.”

That was a lifetime! Shelley thought in despair.

Colt turned to Rio. “I’m getting Mr. Zellecky to the hospital.”

Colt took another look at her subdued, pale son and told Shelley, “You and Austin should come, too.”

Seconds later, they were all strapped in and on their way.

He drove them to Laramie Community Hospital. Shelley sat in back with Austin. Mr. Zellecky rode shotgun. He seemed roaring drunk when they started out. By the time they’d gone two miles, he was slumped over in his seat, unconscious.

Colt was on the speakerphone with the E.R. “Got a shocky two-year-old and a seventy-something diabetic coming in. Terrence Zellecky.”

A pause. “Mr. Zellecky whose wife just had a stroke?”

“That’s him,” Colt confirmed. “He was apparently driving erratically and got in a car accident. He was belligerent at the scene, but is now unconscious in the front seat of my squad car.”

“We’ll greet you at the door.”

And a crew did.

Faster than Shelley could have imagined possible, they had loaded the diabetic on a stretcher and were rushing him into the E.R.

Colt followed with Shelley. When her legs proved too wobbly to move quickly, he took Austin from her and led her through the pneumatic doors. From there a triage nurse took over. The next thing Shelley knew she was in a treatment room with Austin.

An oxygen mask was placed on Austin’s face, while he sat on her lap, blanket still wrapped around him, keeping him warm. The triage nurse took his vitals. A pediatrician entered soon after and checked for injuries. To Shelley’s relief, none were found. His stunned demeanor had been due to the shock of being in an accident, and the resulting rush of cortisol and adrenaline flooding his tiny system.

“We’ll continue to keep him warm, make sure he’s breathing well, give him some juice to drink and he’ll feel better in no time,” the pediatrician pronounced, looking as happy as Shelley that Austin was going to be just fine.

The doctor and nurse slipped out, and Shelley concentrated on soothing Austin. As her baby boy breathed in the oxygen rich air, his color returned—and so did his usual high spirits. Eventually, he had recovered enough to try to pull off his mask and say, “Sirens, Momma, sirens! Police car!”

“Yes,” Shelley acknowledged softly, replacing the mask, “we saw sirens and a police car.”

“Eeeee!” Austin reenacted the screeching and squealing, then gasped the way Shelley had gasped. He flailed his arms. “Boom!”

“Like I said—” Colt appeared in the doorway to the exam room, still resplendent in his tan uniform, his hat slanted across his brow “—a lot to take in for a little guy.” He smiled over at Austin. “Everything okay here?” he asked gently.

Shelley had never imagined Colt could be so tender. Heart in her throat, she nodded.

Sirens sounded in the distance.

Behind Colt, another doc appeared in the hallway. “Good thing you brought Mr. Zellecky in when you did, Colt. Another ten minutes with his blood sugar that low and he’d have been in a diabetic coma. That coupled with his heart condition could have been fatal.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Colt turned to the doctor, concerned.

“Yeah. But we’re going to have to do something about him driving.”

“I know.” Colt stepped out into the hallway, his expression grim.

“And good work for getting the toddler here quickly, too....”

The murmur of voices moved off.

A nurse came back in with a container of juice. “How about we move you two up to Pediatrics? You’ll be a lot more comfortable there until we get the discharge paperwork together.”

More sirens sounded. Austin put his hands over his ears, suddenly looking completely stressed out again.

“Good idea,” Shelley said. She’d no sooner gotten settled upstairs than Colt reappeared. “I’m headed back to the scene. Obviously, we’re going to need a witness statement from you, but it doesn’t have to be done now.”

“Thank you. I’d prefer not to talk about it in front of Austin.”

He met her eyes. “How about I come by your house tomorrow morning? Say around eight?”

Shelley nodded.

“And then there’s the matter of your car...”

Shelley bit down in frustration. She’d been so concerned about her son, she hadn’t even thought about that.

“Would you like help with that, too?” Colt offered.

She swallowed hard, realizing it would be so easy to lean on him, now that she was back in town. “You can get it to me?” she asked, trying hard not to think about what had happened the last time she had let herself count on a man.

He smiled as he locked eyes with her son, and then turned back to her. “In a strictly unofficial capacity, yeah, I can.”

Despite herself, Shelley found herself really appreciating his propensity for going above and beyond the call of duty. “That would be great, Colt. Thank you.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” He paused to bestow another tender smile on Austin, tipped his hat at her and strode out the door.

* * *

“A WORD WITH YOU, COLT?” Sheriff Ben Shepherd said late the following morning.

Colt pushed back from his computer and followed his boss into his private office.

Ben shut the door. A humorless brunette in her mid-forties was already there, waiting. “You remember Investigator Adams?”

Hard not to. Ilyse Adams was the internal affairs officer for the department. Colt sat down in the chair indicated.

Ben took a seat behind his desk. Ilyse, already sitting, opened up a notepad on her lap. A veteran of the Chicago police force, she had been hired after a traffic ticket and bribery scandal erupted the previous year in an adjacent county. Her job was to keep corruption at bay and ensure protocol was followed at every level.

“What’s going on?” Colt asked, afraid he already knew.

Ben steepled his hands in front of him. “There’s been a complaint you acted unprofessionally at the accident scene last night in not citing Mr. Zellecky for reckless driving.”

Colt exhaled. He’d known, after talking to the others in the E.R., that there was going to be trouble. “It didn’t seem appropriate, given Mr. Zellecky’s medical condition.”

Ben sighed. “The New York couple Mr. Zellecky hit feel otherwise. They allege deference was paid to the local resident who caused the accident over them.”

Aware the complaint mirrored what actually had been going on in Spring County the previous year, Colt protested, “That’s not true. Rio and I tended to both of them on a priority basis.” They’d been nothing but helpful and accommodating.

“I’d agree if you had cited Mr. Zellecky for causing the accident, but you didn’t.” Ben fixed Colt with a somber glance. “You will now.”

Colt pressed his lips together. “Yes, sir.”

“Do you have a problem with that, Deputy McCabe?” Investigator Adams asked coyly.

“Yeah, now that you ask,” Colt drawled, “as a matter of fact, I do.”

“Go on,” Ilyse encouraged with her usual can’t-wait-to-gut-you smile. Although, to date, she had yet to actually charge anyone in the department with illegal or unethical behavior. Some were questioning the value of such a high-salaried employee when there was no corruption to be found.

Colt looked the IA officer in the eye. “Taking Mr. Zellecky to court is a waste of time and resources.”

As protective of his officers as he was determined to run a clean department, Ben Shepherd intervened sternly, “That’s not for you to decide, Colt.”

Wasn’t it? “I beg to differ.” Colt leaned forward to make his point. “These kinds of decisions are what set us apart from big-city police forces. We know our residents. And this accident, as unfortunate as it was, wasn’t caused by deliberate carelessness—it was illness-related.”

Although his boss listened intently, the internal affairs officer looked skeptical. Undeterred, Colt continued, “It’s no secret Mr. Zellecky’s recently been under an enormous amount of stress. Consequently, his blood glucose levels have been all over the map. Very low blood sugar levels cause acute disorientation, to the point the diabetic both acts and appears drunk.”

“Exactly why he shouldn’t have been driving,” the IA officer said.

Colt interjected, “I talked to Mr. Zellecky last night after he was stabilized. He said he felt fine when he started out on his errand. So there was no point in citing him with reckless driving since I did not think the charges would stick.”

“So you’re judge and jury, is that it?” Ilyse Adams asked coolly.

“I used my judgment and my common sense,” Colt affirmed.

The IA officer consulted her notes. “Well, that judgment is suspect. We’re going to be confidentially reviewing every case you’ve handled in the last six months. Should this prove to be a pattern with you, you’ll suffer the appropriate sanctions.”

Sheriff Ben Shepherd said nothing to counter the IA officer’s assertion.

The knowledge he could face disciplinary action hit Colt like a blow to the gut.

“And if it proves I’ve done nothing wrong?” he asked, taken aback that an outsider might hold the keys to his future. “Last night or at any other time?”

“Then no one but the three of us and the department attorney will ever know there was an investigation,” the sheriff promised. “In the meantime...” Sheriff Shepherd retrieved a thick envelope from his desk and handed it to Colt. “You have a chance to prove you can do your job, no matter whom or what is involved.”

Colt looked at the name and address on the papers due to be served. He swore inwardly.

“Got a problem?” Sheriff Shepherd queried.

They wanted to see him do his job no matter what? Then that’s exactly what he’d do.

“No, sir,” Colt said crisply. “I do not.”

* * *

SHELLEY OPENED THE DOOR to find a uniformed Colt McCabe on the other side of it. A faint hint of beard shadowed his face, a hint of weariness in his midnight-blue eyes, but otherwise, he was as handsome as ever. Which was a true testament to his stamina after what had to be—if her calculations were correct—nearly fourteen hours on the job.

“Thanks for getting my car back to me last night.” It had been in the hospital parking lot when she’d come out with her son.

“The tow service delivered it. I figured you’d need it when Austin was released.”

“I did.” She moved to usher him inside. “Here to take the accident report?”

“That’s right.” He gestured toward the wicker furniture that stood opposite the porch swing and said, “Okay if we do it out here?”

As grateful as she was feeling, maybe it was best he didn’t come in. Shelley nodded and brought Austin with her. He sat down to play with his toys.

Colt got out his laptop computer. His eyes were calmly intense, his lips grim. “If you could start from the beginning...”

Slipping into business mode, too, Shelley told him everything she remembered. When they finished, he stood, put his laptop back in the carrying case and then pulled out a thick envelope and a clipboard. “If you could just sign here indicating you’ve received this,” he said.

Puzzled by the extraofficial sound of his voice and the coolness of his manner, Shelley did as requested.

Colt took the clipboard back and looked her right in the eye. “Shelley Meyerson, you’ve just been served.”