They come in: two women and a man in scrubs. “Where is my woman? She should have been here by now.”
“Calm down, Sheriff. Who are you speaking about?”
“Excuse me.” Deputy Granger comes into the room. “I need to speak with the sheriff—alone.”
“We’d like to examine him before you do. He’s been sleeping all day and evening.” I tolerate their poking and prodding while they take my vitals and workup before they declare that I’m fit for a visitor.
I don’t like the way he’s looking at me or the solemnness of his words. “What happened? Where is she?”
He takes a deep breath, pulling his hat off his head and fidgeting with his hands. “Your mother…well, she’s dead.”
Really? That’s what the fuck he came here to tell me? I don’t care what he’s just said because it means nothing to me at the moment. There should be pain and elation, but the only thing I need to know has to do with my woman. “Where’s Lydia James?”
“She was at the station earlier, but Rocky took her back to his place a couple of hours ago.”
“Why was she at the station?” Did she go there to get information about what happened? Why didn’t he bring her back here like he promised?
“We needed to take her statement.”
Dread fills me. “Why?” He’s being fucking evasive, and it’s pissing me off. “Answer me, damn it,” I roar, but all that happens is that my voice cracks.
“Ms. James is the one who killed your mother.” My blood pressure drops, and I can feel the color leach away from my face. Fuck.
“Goodness, I need to get the doctors in here. You’re about to pass out.”
“Bennett was supposed to protect my future wife,” I snarl to myself, wanting to rip his head off myself for not doing his job. How did she get to her before he did? God, she’s never going to want to see me ever again.
“He was at the station as well. It’s all a formality because it was clear to everyone there that it was self-defense.”
“It’s over between us,” I snarl, falling back onto the pillow, giving no fucks about anything else as my world comes crashing down around me. He leaves the room, calling out the door to the nearest nurse. Suddenly, pure fatigue hits me over the head and my sight blurs. She’s going to hate me.
****
One whole day.
Twenty-four long, drawn-out hours.
Each minute passes by more painfully than the next.
I sit in the wheelchair, praying that Lydia will come see me as I stare out of my hospital window toward the parking lot, hope dwindling that I’ll have any chance to have a life with Lydia. I'm not paralyzed, but it will be weeks until I'm back on my feet. Since I've been awake, she hasn't bothered to see me.
My phone was smashed when I fell, so I haven't been able to call her. She probably hates me for bringing this trouble into her life. She had to kill someone to save herself. That leaves a mark, a scar so profound. She must never want to be in my presence again.
A knock at the door sends me spinning around quickly, but I’m sorely disappointed when it’s just the doctor. “So when can I leave?”
“You’re going to need someone to help you around your home, but I doubt you’ll be able to get out of here for a couple more days. The staff would like to begin working on some physical therapy.”
“Very well.”
“You didn’t touch your food this morning.”
“I didn’t feel like eating a bland-ass meal. The saline drip probably tastes better straight from the IV.”
“I understand. You have to manage one meal down before we can move on to the next. The surgery and the anesthetic used will have upset your stomach, and after the news you received yesterday, your vitals went wild. We need to monitor you for some time.”
“Well, bring in dinner or lunch. Whatever it is, I’ll eat it. I need to get out of this place. All I have to do is get moving and I’ll be back to normal.”
“We like to see that enthusiasm, but it doesn’t change my decision. If you can improve safely, we’ll let you go home. Deal?”
“Deal.” I turn my chair back to the window and look outside, letting the doctor know there’s nothing else to talk about. My mood has been shit since I learned that Lydia had to take my mother’s life.
After I hear him leave and close the door behind him, I roll my chair back toward the bed and then pick up the hospital phone, dialing the number and waiting for them to answer.
“This is Sheriff Marlowe. I need to get in contact with Bennett Lake, and I don’t have my phone on me. Also, if someone could get me a replacement phone, that would be great.”