Lord Have Mercy (Southern Gentleman 2)

She made a sound that sounded like a scoff. “If he didn’t answer for me…”

I pursed my lips. “You’re right, but I would like to try.”

“Okay,” she said. “Call me back when you’re done.”

We hung up, and I immediately dialed Flint’s number, the first number that I had memorized in about ten years.

The phone rang six times before it went to his voicemail.

I tried again.

Six times and then the voicemail again.

I went to hit Carmichael’s name in my recent calls list as I was also grabbing my keys, Dooley’s leash, and my purse.

“Dooley, come,” I ordered.

I was only halfway dressed for school, but something in my gut was telling me that something very bad was wrong.

“Hello?” Carmichael answered immediately.

“He didn’t answer for me, either,” I said, voice shaky. “I’m going out to look for him.”

“Me, too,” she said. “I called Croft, and he’s looking as well. Even though he has to leave for the airport in about an hour. Not to mention I’m covering the theater class again. Shit, I’m going to be late.”

“Me, too,” I said. “Call me if you find him.”

With her assurances that she would, we hung up and I rushed out to my car.

Dooley followed at my heels.

***

It was as I was approaching the street that led to the main highway—the cut through that I’d shown Flint—that I saw all the blinking red and blue lights.

My stomach started to roil as I drove forward, not stopping at the long line of cars until I literally had nowhere else I could go.

Pulling off to the side of the road, I clipped Dooley’s leash onto his collar and made kissy sounds for him to follow.

He did, very obediently, and stopped at my side, not tugging on the leash at all as he moved.

I searched around the area, but the firetruck was blocking most of the road, and I couldn’t see over the top of it.

An ambulance was off to the side of the road much like my car was, and beyond that, I could see a stretcher laying in wait.

The feeling in my belly grew more intense.

Starting forward, I was glad that there were no cops there to thwart my progress. There were a few men and women directing traffic, but since it was the volunteer department there really wasn’t anybody that looked like they should be there, much like me.

Meaning I was able to walk right up to the middle of the accident and nobody said a word.

My heels clicked harshly on the asphalt, and the dog at my side stayed so close to me that he kept brushing against my leg.

I placed my hand on his head and stopped just past the large fire engine, eyes on the scene in front of me.

One fire engine was blocking the majority of the road, and there was another one about a hundred yards away blocking the other side.

In between both firetrucks were other emergency vehicles, one of those being a Gun Barrel Police Department cruiser very similar to Flint’s, only that one didn’t say ‘K-9 unit’ on it.

Just past the police cruiser, I could make out the top of a black SUV tipped up on its side and scattered around that were bits and pieces of debris.

I started forward a little more, stopping next to an older gentleman that was holding a fire extinguisher in his hand.

“What happened?” I asked casually as if I was supposed to be there.

“SUV clobbered a motorcycle. Guy on the motorcycle is pinned underneath the SUV. We’re waiting on some airbags. The ones we had in our truck malfunctioned,” he murmured. “You with the other department?”

His question went unanswered as part of his explanation started to click into place.

Motorcycle.

Flint rode a motorcycle.

I walked forward woodenly, Dooley was scary close to my side now, sensing my mood, and rounded the cruiser.

The first thing I saw was the pink helmet that was laying haphazardly in the middle of the road.

It was shield down, right next to one of the reflective markers that usually ran through the middle of the road. Only, that marker had been knocked free after the accident, putting it closer to the middle of the left lane than the middle of the road.

The next thing I saw was a pair of sunglasses.

They were Ray-Bans, and they were similar to the ones that I’d seen Flint hook into the front of his T-shirt he’d been wearing as he’d left my bedroom.

I felt bile start to rise in my throat as I made my way around the SUV.

What I saw made my stomach clench, and the contents in my belly threaten to come up.

***

Flint

“Keep talking to me, motherfucker.” Schultz shifted on his belly to get closer to me. “Keep talking, or I call your girl.”

“You call my girl, I’m going to crawl out from under this goddamn SUV and make sure you never reproduce,” I said weakly.