kept moving slowly, sweeping the grassy median with his flashlight as he walked. The first thing he found was a duffel bag, and then a few yards farther he found a red-and-black tennis shoe. The duffel bag was from a college in Tennessee, and the shoe was a popular one with the younger crowd. His heart sank.
“Over here!” someone yelled.
He turned and ran.
The driver was lying facedown on the missing windshield, and when Sam saw him, for a split second the night and the people around him disappeared and he thought he was hearing the whup whup whup from the rotors of a chopper and watching blood running out of his buddy’s head and seeping into the sand at his feet. The heat of the desert wind was in his face as the flashing lights from the highway patrol car momentarily blinded him. It was the lights that yanked him out of the flashback.
“He’s dead!” the man yelled, waving at the patrolman who was coming their way.
As Sam dropped down on one knee to check the body for a pulse, the man said again, “He’s dead. I done checked.”
Sam was numb. The driver was in his early twenties, and the man was right. He was dead.
A crowd was gathering around the body, and they were all talking at once, wanting to tell their version of what they’d seen to the highway patrolman.
Sam glanced down at the boy one last time, and then turned around and walked back to his SUV. He tossed the flashlight onto the seat beside him, grabbed a canister of hand wipes and began pulling out the sheets to clean his hands, and then he kept pulling them out and wiping and pulling them out and wiping until he realized he was crying. He took a slow, shaky breath as he threw the canister on the floor, then wadded up the hand wipes and put them in a trash bag.
“Jesus wept,” he said softly, and then closed his eyes, but the sight was still burned into his brain, and the moment he spoke the words, he remembered a scene from his childhood and the scolding his mother had given him for what he’d said.
Do not use the Lord’s name in vain, Samuel Wade.
I didn’t curse, Mama. That’s a Bible verse. Daddy said it’s the shortest verse in the Bible.
Well, your daddy is right, but so am I. Don’t say that again unless you’re on your knees saying prayers.
Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry, Mama.
Sam rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He wasn’t on his knees, but he needed to be.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” he said softly. “Sorry for everything.”
He could almost feel her hand on the back of his neck.
It’s okay, Sammy. When you know better, you do better.
He put the car in gear and slowly pulled back onto the interstate. For some strange reason, home seemed even farther away.
* * *
Trey and Lee were alone in the waiting room. Dallas had gone home because the livestock needed tending. He’d put out a couple of round bales of hay for their cattle early this morning, so they wouldn’t have to be tended to for a couple of days, but Dallas’s hens had to be fed and watered, and the eggs had to be gathered, no matter what else was wrong with their world.
They were still in the waiting room when Trey’s phone rang. He saw it was Dallas and answered quickly.
“Hey, honey. Everything all right?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m getting ready to drive back into town. Is Trina still in surgery?”
“Yes, but don’t drive back. I was watching the weather earlier, and there’s a heavy thunderstorm predicted for this area. I don’t want you out on the roads in that.”
“But, Trey, I don’t want you there by yourself.”
“I’m not alone. Lee’s here. I’ll let you know the minute she’s out of surgery. Just stay home. At least I’ll know one of you is safe.”
Dallas heard the weariness in his voice and knew if she pushed the issue and went to the hospital anyway, it would be at his expense, so she finally agreed.
“I’ll stay home. Just know how much I love you,” she said.
“I love you, too,” Trey said. “I’ll talk to you later.”
He disconnected and then settled back in his chair. Lee was dozing sitting up. They didn’t have anything much to say to each other and even less to the people who stared at them as they passed the waiting room.
Five hours after Trina went into surgery, the surgeon came into the waiting room looking for her family.
Trey stood abruptly, while Lee eased up from the sofa where he’d been sitting. They were both afraid to hear the verdict.
“Are you here for Trina Jakes?” the doctor asked.
“Yes,” they said in unison.
“I’m Dr. Lowell. I operated on her. She came through the surgery and is in ICU.”
Lee dropped back onto the sofa and started to cry. Just the news that she was still alive was what he’d been praying for.
Trey wanted details and got them as the doctor continued.
“Her condition is critical. The bullet missed her heart by centimeters, shattered a couple of ribs and punctured a lung. It took a while to remove all the bone fragments. I pulled a couple out of one kidney and one from her liver. The bullet also nicked part of her spine on exit, but the spinal cord is intact. She lost a lot of blood, and for the time being I’ve put her into a drug-induced coma.”
“Dear Lord,” Trey muttered, and then the cop part of him kicked in. “Did she regain consciousness at any time before she was moved to ICU?”
“No, and as serious as her injuries were, that was to be expected.”
“When can I see her?” Lee asked.
“Check the visiting times in ICU, and discourage anyone but immediate family,” Dr. Lowell said.
Trey had his own comment to make.
“Just so you know, I need a no-visitor hold put on her chart, and there will be a guard stationed outside her room. She’s the only living witness to the latest of three murders, and the killer isn’t going to want her to wake up.”
Dr. Lowell grimaced. “Yes, so I was told. I’ll make sure that’s taken care of.”
“On behalf of our family, we thank you,” Trey said.
Lee pulled himself together to add his thanks. “Yes, Dr. Lowell. Thank you for saving her.”
Lowell nodded. “It wasn’t all me. I had a good team with me in the OR. I’ll be checking on her on a regular basis, so I’m sure we’ll speak again,” he said, and left the waiting room.
Now that Trey knew what he had to work with, he moved into
