Uncovering Officer Smith (The Discovering Trilogy #2) (34 page)

Ever since walking away from Becca, I realized I should have stayed and talked to her. It was the comment she slapped me with, that one about me being a robot, which stunned me.

How could she think such a thing? I guess that’s how it looked from my actions. But I never thought about it, just figured she would be better off without me. I also assumed Ford would step in and turn her toward a direction he saw more fitting. If he doesn’t think I’m good enough for his little sister, then maybe he’s more like his parents, after all.

I don’t know what makes me turn Patty up the NCU lawns and veer to the right heading toward the new dorms, but I do. I even made it up the three flights of steps. I can’t leave Becca like this, can’t let her think what we had meant nothing. I must explain things to her.

I keep changing my mind with every step I take to get there. Maybe she is better off hating me. But can I live with myself? Before I can change my mind, I’m knocking on her door. Silence.

I knock again. No answer. Maybe, this must be for the best. I’m contemplating this as I head for the stairs. The dorm is alive with people passing me in the corridor. Typical Friday night. I’m in my uniform but no one seems to hide the fact that they are drinking. Some kid even has a drunken girl hoisted up on his shoulder. That’s nice, bringing a friend home.
Wait
. I do a double take when I notice the dark glasses, realizing it’s Becca’s next-dorm neighbor. The girl over his shoulder—A blonde.

“Excuse me?”

He freezes, his back to me. He can’t very well deny me when I’m in uniform. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine, just had a few too many. I’m taking her home.” He never turns to face me. I get a weird vibe.

“Who is she?” I walk back to him but he still doesn’t move. I lean over, pulling the hair away from her face – Oh God. It’s
Becca
. My heart freezes in my chest. “What happened? What did you do to her?”

“I don’t know, I found her like this. I was just taking her home.”

“Give her to me.”

“No.”

“Put her on the floor. Is that puke on her lips?” My voice growing louder as my hands are inspecting Becca’s limp form.

“I found her in someone’s bed at a party upstairs, almost hidden under the blankets.”

“Are her lips blue?”

“Are they?” He finally places her on the floor. Puke is on her lips and she starts to convulse.

“Take my radio. Call for back up,” I tell the kid before placing Becca’s head against the floor. Her body has stopped moving, her heartbeat fading. I begin compressions. Tilting her head back, I blow air into her lungs.

The neighbor kid drops the walkie-talkie when the radio confirms back up to the NCU dormitories. “I thought you only had to do compressions during CPR now,” he leans next to me to add.

“This is Becca. I’ll do anything I goddam have to,” I state between pumping her chest.

Her eyes never open, but her heartbeat is steady when the ambulance finally arrives. I climb into the ambulance. No one tries to deter me. Her hand is in mine as the EMT’s hook her up to an IV and begin running tests.

“Do you know what she took?” one of them asks me.

“No.”

“Do you know her?” the other asks.

“She’s my girlfriend,” I mutter without thinking.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The noise brings me back to consciousness. I had the weirdest dream. I was floating on a river, my face pointing into the sun. I heard John’s voice, “She’s my girlfriend.” It was only that – a dream. I realize this when my eyes open. I’m in a hospital. This is apparent by the gaudy wallpaper, the needles sticking out of me, and the constant beeping of my heart monitor.

“Mm,” I groan, turning to the window. Beside me, John Smith is in uniform, his blue eyes staring at me. “Oh Lord, not you again.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Listen.” I struggle to sit up. “I don’t need another lecture.”

“I didn’t lecture. I asked how you were feeling.”

“Fine,” I grumble. “What happened?”

“You almost overdosed.”

“What?”

“You had Ecstasy in your system. It was laced with something.”

“Oh.” I pause. “What are
you
doing here?”

“I… I was called to the scene.” I glance away under the intensity of his eyes. “What is going on with you, Becca?”

I turn, “No, you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to ask me what’s wrong.”

“Why the hell not?” He takes a step toward my bed.

“Because
you
don’t get to save me. There is no more saving me, John. I’m already gone.”

He walks up to the bed, smelling like puke. “I don’t believe that; not for a second.”

Suddenly, Bedford bursts through the door, followed by our parents. Victoria Swanson is wearing heels and a trench coat like someone that just walked off a runway. My father, James Swanson, is still in his business suit. My mother is the first to my side, practically collapsing into bed with me so dramatically it slides the entire bed.

“Oh, Becca,” she murmurs as they continue to swarm around me. My eyes are on John as he slips past them. He and my brother exchange a look before he leaves, closing the door behind him.

“What the hell happened, Becky?” Bedford comes to the foot of my bed.

“Nothing.” I shrug. “Just got carried away.”

“It’s this school, it’s too crazy. You have to come back home.” My mother, the eternal optimist.

“No, I’m fine, Mom.”

“Are you sure, dear?” She turns to my father. “James, I told you that she should have gone to community college closer to home. Look what happened.” She points to me.

“I’ll be fine, really.”

My eyes meet my brother’s and there it is: doubt. He sees right through me; that or John Smith betrayed me once again.

My mom is once again blabbing about how the problem is NCU and how she had to bail Bedford out of jail one time. My father blocks her from my line of vision.

“How are you feeling, Becky Bear?”

“I’m okay, Dad.”

His blue eyes inspect my entire face until he responds, “You can tell yourself that, but I know better.”

I shoot him a weak smile before Bedford pushes him out of the way. “You look like crap, Becky.”

“Well, you don’t look so hot yourself.”

He cocks his head back and laughs. His hand slicks his hair back. “Speak for yourself, scrubs.”

“I make this hospital gown look good.” I wiggle underneath the sheets.

“If you say so,” he mutters.

My mother’s voice cuts through our interaction. “That’s it! She’s coming home.”

“She can stay with me,” Bedford offers.

“She can come home. I need some help around the house, and that lovely Marson boy has been asking about her.”

My dad remains a fly on the wall for this conversation. Bedford interjects something about it being the middle of the semester. My mother comes back with the fact that my health is more important. But as they continue to talk about me like I’m not sitting here in the same room as them, I realize I don’t want to leave.

“No,” I croak, quietly at first, and then I repeat it louder. “No!”

“Excuse me?” The chatter finally silences.

“I don’t want to go home.”

“You don’t have a choice, dear,” my mother tells me.

“Actually, I’m twenty-one years old. I have all the choices in the world.”

She looks stunned for a second, maybe even offended. We square off for a moment, my blue eyes glaring into hers. For the first time since I was born, my mother caves.

“Fine. But any sign of trouble and you’re coming right home. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, Mother.” I lose my fight. I’d agree to anything just to take another nap.

Victoria Swanson turns to my brother. “Beddy, please keep an eye on your sister.”

“I will.”

The biggest problem—Avoided. The smaller problem—I deserved. Things got out of hand. Maybe I need someone looking out for me. My parents’ voices become a distant echo as I drift off to sleep.

This feels all too familiar, being thrown out of a hospital room after waiting there all night. But as I lean against the wall across from her room, I can’t seem to get the energy to leave. It might mean that this, too, is really over. Am I ready to do that?

A chuckle escapes me. Becca is still in there with her family right now. Ford gave me a look when he saw me exiting the room as they entered. Maybe it was the uniform, or the look in my eyes, but he never said anything to me. The guilt inside eats away at the remaining friendship we have. I did this for
him
, for the brother I never had. We had one of those bonds only two young, crazy kids could have. Now… now I don’t know what we have.

Nurses pass by me as I linger across from Becca’s room. I get a passing glance every once and a while, and I get the feeling that if I were in civilian clothes I’d no doubt be told to leave.

I’m hoping to wait her family out, needing to speak to Becca. I just can’t seem to find the words to say to her. And I think secretly deep down I’m wishing she would call for me. But I don’t deserve that; don’t deserve anything. I left her. I stopped returning her calls. If I could go back and do it all over again, I would. She deserved an explanation. She deserved so much more than me.

Another nurse with blue scrubs walks past me. “John?”