Tumbledown (7 page)

She saw Tobin creeping back around the corner as the knife clattered onto the concrete, and she allowed her eyes to close, figuring that she had earned the right to just sit still and let the others sort it all out.

*

“Don’t worry, ’m fine,” Alex had said on the phone, but her words had slurred together into a drowsy mess and that was the point at which Sarah had really gotten scared.

At three in the morning, the roads were empty. Sarah pushed hard on the gas, creeping beyond the legal speed limit and having to force herself to slow down again. Quinn had called first, the noise of the phone bringing her out of a restless sleep and making her feel sick with panic. Although he tried to explain about the raid, about a man with a knife and why Alex was currently en route to the hospital in Cary, she had been too busy throwing her clothes on to listen to him properly, and she had dropped the receiver as she reached for her pants. When the phone rang for a second time, Alex was on the other end, telling her it was only a little cut and probably wouldn’t even need stitches. “Stay in bed,” she had insisted, but Sarah was already halfway out the door.

The emergency department was quiet; an elderly couple sitting close together with a shared air of resignation and a disheveled man muttering to himself were the only people waiting on the hard plastic seats. Sarah gave Alex’s name at the desk just as she heard someone call her own. When she looked around, she saw Bill Quinn raising his hand, and the clerk buzzed her through.

“She’s fine. She’s in X-ray,” Quinn said. He didn’t know Sarah well and seemed keen to preempt any hysterics on her part. With a hand on her arm, he led her through to a small cubicle. Bloodstains on the white tiled floor indicated where Alex’s bed had been.

“What the hell happened?” Sarah asked. There wasn’t a lot of blood, but the sight of it still made her stomach churn.

“Uh…” He wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and massaged the muscles there. “We’re looking into it,” he said evasively, which suggested to Sarah that someone had fucked up, royally. “Alex took a knock to the head and she has a cut on her arm. Doc says it’s nothing serious.”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“She did good, Sarah.”

That made her look up at him. “So it wasn’t Alex who fucked up, then?”

The question appeared to catch him off guard, but he was too honest a man to leave it unanswered. “No,” he said. “No, it wasn’t Alex.” He sighed. “You be okay to take her home when they’re through with her?”

“Of course.” She realized then that he had important tasks he needed to be doing, tasks he was neglecting in order to stay with his officer. “Thanks for looking out for her,” she said softly.

He smiled, but his expression remained troubled. “I’ll need to debrief her sometime tomorrow. Ask her to give me a call when she’s ready.”

“I will.”

He laid a hand on her shoulder for a moment and then left her sitting alone, staring at the blood on the floor.

*

Alex’s bed was returned without ceremony by an orderly with a sour face and a ridiculous but determined comb-over. He grunted at Sarah and pulled the drapes closed as he departed. She barely noticed him leave; her attention was fixed on Alex, who was lying curled on her side, apparently asleep. Someone had exchanged her uniform for a gown, and blood had started to ooze through the bandage that covered her right forearm from wrist to elbow. The upper half of her face was swollen, with bruises darkening across her cheekbone and beginning to gather purposefully just beneath her eye.

Sarah clamped her mouth shut, trying not to make a noise, trying not to cry, but it was too much like the last time, and tears filled her eyes regardless. Bending low and brushing aside a strand of Alex’s hair, she found a patch of skin that wasn’t bruised and kissed it gently.

Alex stirred at the touch, a frown crinkling her brow.

“Quinn?” The name came out in a barely coherent mumble.

“Since when has Bill Quinn been giving you kisses?”

The sound of Sarah’s voice brought a lazy smile to Alex’s lips and she opened her eyes, blinking like a creature emerging from hibernation into bright sunlight. She reached toward Sarah’s cheek, wafting the air repeatedly until Sarah took her hand and guided it into place. Her smile broadened into a grin, and Sarah allowed herself to relax slightly as it became apparent that Alex was not so much concussed as drugged up to the eyeballs.

“Told you not to worry,” Alex said, tripping over her words and failing utterly in her attempt to sound stern. “And here y’are, all worried and stuff.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sarah brushed her fingers across Alex’s forehead. “So, dare I ask what the other guy looks like?” It was a standard joke, but Alex didn’t seem capable of anything but the most literal interpretation.

“Pretty fuckin’ big,” she said, her eyes widening as far as the bruising would permit. “Huge.” She held her hands apart, trying to give an impression of the man’s size, but she couldn’t coordinate the movement and ended up looking like an angler who’d caught quite a small fish. “And mean,” she added as an afterthought.

Sarah touched the bandage lightly. “What happened here?”

“He cut me with a knife.” Alex made the admission with obvious reluctance. She took hold of Sarah’s finger and gripped onto it tightly, to Sarah’s relief. The wound to her arm was still bleeding through its dressing, but she seemed to have a good range of movement, so any serious damage to the nerves or other underlying structures was unlikely.

“It went a bit numb at first, but it’s okay now,” she said, as if reading Sarah’s mind. She wriggled her fingers when Sarah stroked each of them in turn. “And that tickles.”

Sarah shook her head. “I wish you’d learn to bloody duck.” She tried to keep her expression serious, but Alex looked so remorseful that she had to smile.

The start of a heartfelt apology was interrupted by a doctor hurrying into the cubicle.

“Officer…”―he checked the paperwork in his hand―“Hayes. Sorry for the delay. A frequent flier of ours decided that tonight would be a good night for self-immolation.” Halfway through snapping on a clean pair of gloves, he paused thoughtfully. “Messy business. I absolutely do not recommend it.” He rolled a small equipment table toward the bed. “You must be Sarah,” he said, seeming to notice her for the first time.

She nodded, assuming that at some point Alex or Quinn had mentioned her name. She moved to the opposite side of the bed, giving him room to tuck a sterile sheet beneath Alex’s arm.

“The X-rays were clear, no fractures,” he said. “Can you just…” Alex obligingly raised her arm so that he could unwind the bandage. “Thanks. Yes, given the swelling, I expected worse.”

The final piece of gauze fell onto the sheet with a wet slap, and he cleaned away the blood to expose the injury. Sarah stepped closer to see the damage and immediately wished she hadn’t. The knife wound extended from the underside of Alex’s wrist to the middle of her forearm. In the stark light of the cubicle, it gaped and glistened like a sick smile.

“Nasty,” the doctor said with considerable understatement. As he started to perform a series of tests to assess circulation and sensation, Sarah watched Alex trying to concentrate even though the pain was making sweat break out on her forehead. When he was finished, he patted the back of Alex’s hand.

“That’s all fine. You take it easy now while I get everything set up here.”

Sarah soaked a handful of paper napkins at the small sink and used them to wipe Alex’s face. “Better?”

“Mmm.” Alex nodded gratefully.

“Have you home and tucked up in bed in no time.”

“Sounds lovely.”

The doctor held up a syringe and squirted a small amount of clear liquid from a needle that was anything but small. “Okay, Alex, this is going to sting a little.”

His warning made her roll her eyes, and Sarah stifled a giggle; they had both lost count of the number of sutures they had needed in the last three years.

“Hey, at least you’re getting an anesthetic,” Sarah said drily.

Alex snorted, but composed herself when she noticed the doctor’s curious expression.

“Long story, doc,” she said, and clamped down on Sarah’s hand as he dug in with the needle.

*

The voice sounded as if it were coming from a long way off. At first, it was patient and cajoling, but became gradually more insistent, with just a hint of amused exasperation. It took another long minute for Alex to work out that the voice belonged to Sarah and that she was trying to persuade her to get out of the Jeep.

Alex opened her eyes and groaned as hot light seemed to pierce her retinas and lodge right at the point where her head was pounding. Drool had stuck her cheek to the warm leather seat, and moving any part of her body made her feel sick. The cardboard bowl on her lap, along with the small pile of them in the footwell and the disgusting taste in her mouth, suggested it had been a very long journey home for Sarah. Alex, however, could barely remember leaving the hospital.

Apparently deciding that she had given Alex enough time to regain her equilibrium, Sarah took hold of Alex’s good arm and slung it across her shoulders.

“You’ve got to help me out here, love. You go all Bambi-legged and we’ll both end up on the floor.”

“I’m good,” Alex muttered with as much indignation as she could muster. “Been walking since I was ten months old.”

To prove her point, she swung around out of the passenger seat and managed to stand by clinging on to Sarah and the doorjamb.

“Okay, go,” she said urgently. It felt like the world was tilting on its axis, and she was no longer quite so confident in her ability to remain upright. Her feet clomped clumsily as she took a step; someone had put her work boots back on and not tied them tightly enough. Meanwhile, there was a strange draft around her thighs.

“What the fuck?” She looked down at the pink, flowery hospital gown she was still wearing, and brought Sarah to a halt at the foot of the porch steps. “Is my ass hanging out?” she asked, afraid that she already knew the answer.

Sarah took her time, glancing behind Alex to check. “Yes, it is,” she finally confirmed. Her eyes glinted with amusement; she wasn’t taking Alex’s discomfiture at all seriously. “No one’s looking. Not even the chickens.”

“Did they steal my underwear?”

“Who? The chickens?”

“No, the doctors!”

“Oh. No. No, your underwear is present and correct.”

Slightly mollified, Alex allowed Sarah to lead her up the steps. By the time they reached the kitchen, she was so dizzy that she had to grab onto the table for support.

“I think I might throw up,” she whispered, shocked by how awful she felt.

“Almost there, hang on,” Sarah said and continued to guide her slowly toward the bedroom.

*

Sarah closed her book and rested both hands on its tattered cover. The instant she moved, pins and needles raced down her left leg and prickled heat into her big toe. She shuffled awkwardly on the chair, uncurling herself and stretching each limb in turn. Something in her spine popped and cracked in protest, but that was nothing new, and it hadn’t been loud enough to disturb Alex. She smiled at the soft snores; it wasn’t like Alex to sleep flat on her back, but she appeared to be comfortable enough. In the past seven hours, she had managed to sleep through Bandit chasing a frog around the kitchen, three phone calls, and a mass chicken brawl. After the noise of the second phone call provoked no meaningful response, Sarah had decided to switch a small reading lamp on, and Alex hadn’t seemed bothered by that either. Every two hours, Sarah carefully shook her awake. She dutifully stated her name and date of birth, told Sarah how tired she looked, and fell back to sleep. According to the doctor, she had a mild concussion; sleep, pain relief, and a responsible caregiver were the only management required.

Running a hand through her hair, Sarah tried hard to stifle a yawn. A quick check of her watch told her she had another forty minutes before she needed to disturb Alex again, so she headed to the kitchen in search of food and caffeine. She fed the animals, slung the local paper on the table to browse through later, and set the kettle to boil. By the time she returned with a tray of toast and tea, Alex was awake and attempting to sit up.

“Oh, hey. Here, let me…” Sarah plumped the pillows and arranged them behind Alex. “How’s that?”

Alex didn’t answer straight away. She had closed her eyes and seemed to be deciding whether being upright really was an improvement. After a few seconds, she cracked one eye open and relaxed her white-knuckle grip on the sheets.

“That toast smells amazing,” she said.

Sarah made a skeptical noise. “How about we see if you can keep water down first?”

“Have I not been doing that?”

“Not as such, no.”

“Oh.” Alex looked disappointed and then noticed she was lying on a towel. “Oh,” she repeated, with greater understanding. “Shit, sorry.”

Sarah perched on the mattress. “You look a bit better.”

“Feel a bit better.” Alex tentatively flexed her bandaged arm and then appeared to remember something vitally important. Her face lit up with a grin. “So what’s this I hear about you being some kind of baby-delivering all-round heroine?”

Sarah put her head in her hands. “How the hell did you find out about that?”

“Esther managed to keep it a secret until they got me to the hospital. Then she told Quinn, who told me and the doc and just about anyone else within earshot.”

The Avery grapevine was legendary; Sarah should have known that that piece of gossip would spread around the town in a heartbeat.

“It wasn’t really a big deal.” She laughed as Alex arched a disbelieving eyebrow. “Honestly, I didn’t have to do all that much.”

“Yeah, well, Syd Bair is telling a different story. He thinks you’re amazing.”

“The birth was amazing. It gave me goose bumps.”

Undeterred, Alex continued her original theme. “Your undisputed amazingness calls for a celebration,” she said. She shifted over to make more space in the bed. “Come on, and bring that tray. We can share.”

Relief at Alex’s recovery made Sarah compliant. She pressed closer, positioning the tray so they could both reach it.