Breathe (35 page)

Lincoln"s eyes fluttered but didn"t open.

“Don"t leave me. I can"t lose you. Not you too.” He kissed Lincoln"s forehead.

A woman dropped to her knees on Lincoln"s other side, and a man knelt beside

Jay. He pulled at Jay"s arm. “Sir, move back. Let us take a look.”

Jay let the man pull his hands off Lincoln. “He"s been shot.”

“Is the shooter still here?”

“I don"t know.” Jay shrank back from Lincoln and let the two work. They had

to save him.

Someone tapped Jay"s shoulder. “Sir, what happened here?” A police officer.

The man"s mouth kept moving, but Jay couldn"t hear the rest. He turned to Lincoln.

The EMTs had cut away his shirt and packed dressings on his wounds. No sounds

or words reached Jay. A bubble had surrounded him, muted the world, causing the

pain to implode on him. Time had lost all meaning. He"d felt like this once before.

The EMTs lifted Lincoln onto a gurney, and Jay tried to stand and follow, but

the officer stopped him. Jay wanted to punch the cop, hit him until the man stepped

aside. Which wasn"t fair. The stranger standing before him didn"t deserve the rage.

Jay sank to his knees again and stared at the blood covering his palms. A large

envelope and photos lay on the floor next to the couch. The ones someone had sent

to his mom. Jay had left them in his desk. How had they gotten in the living room?

Beside the pictures were the bag of inhalers and a sheet of blood-soaked paper with

the familiar watermark.

Oh God.

Had Lincoln brought those with him? Or had he found them in Jay"s house?

Jay reached for the paper.

“Sir, don"t touch anything.”

Breathe

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Jay stilled his hands at the officer"s request. He couldn"t focus on anything but

the drops of blood that had landed on the picture of his own smiling face in the

broken frame beside the table. So much blood.

“Sir, I need you to explain what happened here?”

Clarity opened a thought to Jay. He"d been the one who discovered Lincoln

shot in his home. He had been there before the EMTs.

He was going to be the number one suspect. For many reasons.

* * *

Jay agreed with a nod. He"d already told her he hoped for the same outcome

numerous times while they sat waiting in the hospital"s surgical corridor. He also

told her all he could about what had happened to Lincoln, but he couldn"t force

himself to tell her the rest—tell her all he"d said to the police officer at his house

earlier. He had talked fast then, explaining to the cop about the accident, the

threats to Lincoln, that he hadn"t seen who had shot Lincoln. What he didn"t say

was who he was or that he still held out hope his mom had nothing to do with it.

A door down the long hospital corridor swung open. Jay jumped out of the

chair as a man and woman in scrubs exited. They passed by him and Nancy in a

rush, their shoes squeaking on the scratched vinyl floor. Jay settled in his seat and

watched the quick clip of their shoes until they passed by the two police officers at

the other end of the hall. The bald officer who had interviewed Jay talked with

another cop, a taller man also in uniform.

“Someone"s been leaving him notes,” Nancy said. She gripped her cell phone in

her hand. She had called her kids earlier and hadn"t let go of the phone since.

“I know.” Jay patted her knee. “It"ll be okay. Nothing"s going to happen to

him.”

She faced Jay and the flimsy plastic chair creaked with her movement.

Hopefully the hospital spent more money on their doctors and surgical equipment

than the waiting areas. That"s if he could call fifteen green plastic chairs lined along

one wall a waiting area. It wasn"t like anyone even called the Grant County Medical

Center a hospital. Bandage Station was the more common term.

“Something already happened,” Nancy said. “I need to talk to the police.” She

looked down the hall at the two officers. “I need to tell them about the threats.

About the accident.”

“I told them.” Jay did not want to come clean to Nancy right then.

“I think it"s the widower. There was a smashed toy car. Whoever sent it wrote

murderer
on the sides.”

“What?”

“A murderer?” she said. “Lincoln? I know he made a mistake, but he doesn"t

deserve this.” She clutched her cell phone to her chest. An intercom behind the

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nurses" station several doors to their left squeaked as it came to life. Nancy jumped

in her seat and clasped the phone tighter.

“Do you have someone to stay with the kids?” Jay asked.

“I called Paul. I"m sorry. I didn"t have anyone else to call. All my friends have

to work. I didn"t want Adam to have to deal with this alone. They"re scared.”

“I understand.” Jay did. He just wished that man didn"t have to be a part of

Lincoln"s life any longer. But maybe Lincoln needed him—needed a friend. Jay

couldn"t ignore the flare of jealousy. He tilted his head back to the wall behind him.

What must it be like for Lincoln? To compete against a memory? Was that worse

than his jealousy over a living Paul?

It had to be.

The officers down the hall eyed Jay. Did they think he had something to do

with the shooting? They didn"t even know the whole truth yet—didn"t know who he

was. Even Nancy thought he had sent Lincoln the threats, not that she knew Jay

was the widower. He wished the damn doctor would come out and tell them what

was going on. He needed to see that Lincoln was okay before the cops hauled him in

for questioning.

The door at the end of the hall opened again, and a woman in scrubs stepped

forward. “Nancy Connell?”

Nancy jumped out of her chair “Yes. How is he?”

“He"s doing well.” She gestured for them to sit and took a chair next to Nancy.

“He lost a lot of blood, but there was no major damage from the puncture wound in

his stomach. The gunshot wound to his arm was more serious. We were able to

repair the artery, and it looks good. There was some extensive nerve damage to his

upper arm. He"ll most likely need physical therapy.” She paused. “But even with

that, he might not regain the full use of his hand. All we can do is wait and see how

he heals. He"s lucky the bullet entered where it did, and that he got help so quickly.

It could"ve been much worse.”

The words “full use of his hand” had Jay"s gut churning like the queasiness he

used to get when he ate anything the month after the accident. The memory of

Lincoln"s hands on his body didn"t calm Jay like usual. He ached to feel the

confidence, the strength only Lincoln had shown him.

“Do you have any questions?” the doctor asked.

“Is he in a lot of pain?” Jay"s voice was barely a whisper. Nancy turned to him

and clasped his hand. She held it firm in hers.

“He"ll be on pain medication, and that should help. The first few days and the

physical therapy will be the worst of it. We"ll give it several weeks to see how

everything heals on its own.”

“Can we see him?” Nancy asked.

The doctor rose. “When he"s awake I"ll have someone come get you. I believe

the police are waiting to talk to him too. Then I"d like him to rest.”

Breathe

185

“Thank you.” Nancy stood and shook the doctor"s hand.

Jay couldn"t move, the reality of it all penetrating past the fear.
Someone had

shot Lincoln.

Had his mom used the gun from her secret hiding spot? Was that why the

bullet hadn"t done more damage? She wouldn"t know how to shoot all that well. Or

maybe it had been a warning. Lincoln was in Jay"s house. Maybe that was her way

of saying,
Stay away from my son.

* * *

floor-to-ceiling curtain. The curtains were a dull shade of pink. Like someone had

accidentally washed them with a red sock, and the hospital was too cheap to replace

them. Was the color supposed to be cheerful? It reminded Jay of mistakes that could

never be undone.

The room smelled of antiseptic and a metallic odor as if the entire place was

covered in metal surfaces, which it wasn"t, and that had Jay"s stomach flopping

around again. If he saw one more ounce of Lincoln"s blood, it"d be too much.

Several people surrounded the first bed, their feet visible under the pink

curtains. The nurse proceeded to the far side of the room. She peeled back the

curtain at the second bed and said, “Visitors,” in a voice too lively for anyone in the

hospital, let alone a gunshot victim coming out of anesthesia.

Lincoln lay in the bed, his head propped on two pillows, eyes shut, his left arm

draped across his chest, loose bandages covering the wound on the upper arm. His

skin was as pale as in the video recording of him in the courtroom months ago. At

the nurse"s hail, his eyes fluttered twice and opened. He spotted Nancy and gave a

slight smile. She reached out and ran her fingers over his cheek. He closed his eyes

again as Nancy caressed the side of his face. Lincoln had to have noticed Jay, but he

hadn"t looked his way.

“Just a few minutes,” the nurse said. She pulled the curtain around the bed as

she left, giving them a semblance of privacy. With Nancy there and Lincoln refusing

to look at Jay, it would never be private enough for Jay to do what he ached for—to

hold Lincoln and let the world around them disappear.

“You"re going to be okay.” Nancy kissed Lincoln"s forehead. “Jay and I are

here.”

Lincoln nodded and opened his eyes, but he kept his gaze on the foot of the

bed. His dark eyes held a sadness beyond what Jay had seen when he first saw

Lincoln at Sonny"s Tavern. If Lincoln would just look at him.

Nancy"s hand hovered over Lincoln"s injured arm. “Oh, Linc. Does it hurt?”

Lincoln licked his lips and spoke in a slow drawl. “Not feeling much of

anything.”

“I"m sorry about your tattoo,” she said. “We"ll get you home where you can rest.

I"ll take care of you. The kids"ll help too. You"ll be fine, you"ll see.”

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The bald officer from the hall opened the curtain. “Excuse me. Mr. McCaw, if

you"re up to it, we"d like to get a statement. Your family can step out for a moment.”

Nancy gave Lincoln another kiss and said, “You tell them everything, okay?”

She stepped away from the bed toward the opening the cop had made in the fabric

enclosure. She stopped and looked to Jay.

He hadn"t moved since the nurse had left, hadn"t said a word. And Lincoln still

hadn"t acknowledged him.
Why
? Did he think Jay had anything to do with the

threats?

The taller cop pulled aside the curtain more and rounded the foot of the bed to

stand near Jay. He didn"t speak, leaving that to his partner.

Baldy pointed toward the exit. “If you could wait outside.”

“He can stay.” It was the clearest and loudest Lincoln had spoken yet.

“Are you family?” Baldy asked.

Jay opened his mouth to answer, but Lincoln beat him to it. “He"s my

boyfriend.”

Tall and Silent groaned and rocked backward on his feet, his leather boots

squeaking in the silence following Lincoln"s declaration. Jay wanted to tell the cop

what he could do with his homophobia. Not the best idea when you were going to be

the lead suspect in a shooting.

Nancy patted Jay"s arm on her way by him.

“Mr. McCaw,” Baldy said, “tell us what you can about what happened today.”

Lincoln stared at the blanket covering his feet as he talked. “I was waiting

inside Jay"s, facing away from the door. I didn"t see it open and didn"t hear anyone

come in. Felt the pain in my arm and fell forward. That"s about it.”

Baldy watched Lincoln as he asked, “You didn"t see the shooter?”

“No.”

“Any idea who might want to hurt you?”

Lincoln didn"t answer.

“The young man here said there were some threats. Related to the crash on 91

last year. Do you think it might be someone in the woman"s family?”

Silence. Lincoln shifted on the bed, wincing as he tried to sit up more. Jay

reached out to help him, tripping over Tall and Silent"s boot. Lincoln stilled and

looked at Jay"s hands as if he"d just figured out who he was. He met Jay"s stare,

then looked away.

Baldy wrote in his spiral-bound notebook as Lincoln explained about the notes,

Jessica"s inhalers, their informal searches of Jay"s parents" house and the Shaws"

place, all of it.

The cop jotted another note and then said, “Sounds to me like the threats

might have come from the widower.”

Lincoln stared at Jay again.

Breathe

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He thinks I did this.

The last of the air in Jay"s lungs left him, and he couldn"t breathe. Like the