Walk the Line (Kings of Chaos 5)
“You don’t put this on her.” Stone holds out his hand, and Warp reluctantly hands over the cut. “Take a walk and get some air.”
He grips my arms. “This ain’t on you, darling. I need you to keep it together, so you can play translator for us with all this medical jargon.” He lays the cut over my arms. “I think he’d like his Old Lady to keep it safe.”
I take a deep breath and clutch the worn leather for dear life. I peer up to the ceiling, focusing on one spot to gather myself.
“What happened to the driver?”
“I. I don’t know.” I’ve been so focused on Jagger, I forgot about Elizabeth until now. There’s no way she walked away from that accident well enough to flee. “She was in an accident trying to speed off. The last I saw, the car was upside down.”
“What’s her name?”
“Elizabeth Watkins. Oh, God. Should I call the police?”
“Ain’t no secret cops make me itch, but in this case, you’ve got history. Not following through would look suspicious.”
“I don’t think we’ll need to call,” I say quietly as the police walking in and search the area.
“Go.” Stone steps away to corral the brothers talking amongst themselves.
“I think you’re looking for me, officers.”
“Were you on the scene of the hit and run today, Ma’am?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Detective Stevenson—”
“Detective Stevenson this is attached to an on-going case, and if you contact, Detective Russel of the San Diego police department, he’ll be able to fill you in or take this over. I’m not sure how jurisdictions and things like that go.”
“Ma’am we can’t help but notice the company you keep—”
“With all due respect, Officer. My case is widely known, I’m Blanche Birling, and over a year ago my husband attempted to murder met at our Caramel Canyon home. One of his many mistresses, Elizabeth Watkins, appeared at the home I share with the victim, Jagger Ryan and attempted to finish the job with a gun. Because of his heroic actions, I’m alive, and he’s fighting for his life. So I know you wouldn’t make the mistake of placing any blame on his door. Because that would just be poor public service, and no one likes that.”
His lips form a thin line and his face flushes. “Of course not. I’ll take a statement from you now and contact Detective Russel.”
“Thank you.” I step aside and tell them everything I can remember. It’s like reliving a nightmare I can’t escape.
A doctor comes out. “I’m looking for the family with Jagger Ryan.”
“I’m his fiancée.”
The doctor frowns.
“Sir, he has no other family you can contact. This man, right here—” I gesture to Stone, “is his boss and legal point of contact on his paperwork. I’m a physical therapist, and they want me to break down the diagnosis you give.”
He relaxes. “Okay then, Ms.—”
“Just call me Blanche.”
“Okay, Blanche. I’m Doctor Simmons. I’ll be overseeing Mr. Ryan’s surgery and recovery. Your fiancé has had extensive damage to his spinal cord. Which were revealed by x-rays. He has complained of having no feeling from the waist down, but with that kind of trauma, there’s intense swelling, and we won’t be able to say definitely what that means. There will be a lot of tests to come, and the best way to move forward is to keep Mr. Ryan as calm and optimistic as possible. Whether this is a partial or complete spinal cord injury he’s going to need support.”
“Partial or complete?” Stone queries.
“A complete injury means he has no sensation at all from the injury site down. Partial means he can feel and possibly move some things below the point of injury,” I explain.
“Jesus,” Stone whispers.
“He’s young, fit, and if the waiting room is anything to go by, surrounded by people who care about him. He can still live a full and satisfying life in a different way.”