South Island PD: Dark Blue Part 28

The knots in her stomach tumbled against each other like marbles. There was still so much she didn't know: little details that could be the difference between life and death.

"Come on." Elijah pulled her away from the prying eyes in the emergency room and toward the doors. "Let's get some fresh air, and I'll tell you what I know."

The air was hot and muggy. The hospital was located centrally on the island, away from the sea breezes.

For the first time, Belle noticed four police vehicles parked by the emergency entrance, near where an ambulance idled, emblazoned with a reflective South Island Rescue logo.

EMTs brought out a patient on a stretcher a nameless person who wasn't Jackson.

Belle watched, feeling detached, as if she were looking into a crystal ball or through a telescope.

"Jackson was shot while responding to a domestic disturbance. A man had been violent toward his girlfriend, and when Jackson got there, he started shooting. The gunman is in custody now, but he shot his girlfriend twice she's in critical condition and Jackson three times."

"Three times?" Belle's voice came out strangled. "I thought he was only hit once, in the thigh!"

Elijah looked taken aback.

"My best friend is an ER nurse here," Belle said as a feeling of betrayal swallowed her. "She didn't say"

"He was. .h.i.t twice in the thigh, and another bullet grazed his shoulder. They say that one's nothing to worry about."

"What about the other two?"

"He was bleeding a lot when they brought him in. They're giving him a blood transfusion."

"Why does he need surgery?"

"One of the bullets is still in there and they're going to remove it so it doesn't migrate and do further damage. Apparently, it's pretty close to an artery."

Belle nodded, her neck stiff. "Honestly, how worried should I be?"

She was going to be freaking out inside no matter what, but she needed to know how justified it'd be.

"I'm not sure. It's not good, but it could be worse. They expect the transfusion to pull him through the blood loss, but I have no idea what kind of shape his leg will be in when this is all said and done. There are no broken bones, but as for nerve and muscle damage..."

She sucked in a breath and bit her lip, hard, so it couldn't escape.

"Why was he shot again?"

Her mind was shrinking in on itself, caging thoughts that made her head spin. This seemed almost surreal, and yet, the weight in her chest and the tightness in her throat told her it was really happening.

"No good reason. I'd say he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but he wasn't he was doing his job. He probably saved that woman's life."

It was cold comfort. Belle wouldn't wish harm on anyone, but she didn't know that woman.

And she knew and loved Jackson.

"The guy just started shooting when he got there? Was Jackson alone?"

Something in Elijah's expression darkened. It was as if he'd stepped back into the shadows beneath the ER awning, but he hadn't he was still right beside her.

"What?" Her gut balled up even tighter, leaving her feeling nauseated.

"He wasn't alone Sanders was there."

Her teeth ached, pressed hard into their sockets as her jaw tensed. "Was he shot too?"

She suspected the answer before Elijah replied.

"No. He's fine."

He said "fine" as if it were an obscenity.

"Look, Belle Sanders is a piece of f.u.c.king s.h.i.+t. He and Jackson approached a house together and he walked away without a scratch while Jackson had to be rushed to the ER before he bled out. I'm not clear on what all went down yet, but I'm sure that out of the two of them, Jackson was the only one doing his job right. I can't let myself think about that now, though."

Belle looked up, her gaze searching Elijah's.

"You know Jackson doesn't have any family. You and I are the closest thing he's got to it." He lifted his shoulders, as if acknowledging how spa.r.s.e the comparison was. "So let's focus on him right now and worry about Sanders later."

She nodded, her mouth dry. "Okay."

"Come on let's go back inside. We'll stick together until he gets out of surgery."

CHAPTER 27.

When Jackson woke up, his mind was blank for about five seconds. Then reality set in.

f.u.c.k. The thought echoed through his mind like a whisper bouncing off cave walls, but his mouth was too dry to speak and his throat was sore.

It felt similar to a case of strep, but it was nothing compared to the pain in his left leg. The entire thing felt as if it'd been cut open and stuffed with hot coals that burnt deep into tissue, threatening to burst through his skin.

He must've taken a bullet. Nothing else made any f.u.c.king sense.

With that realization, his thoughts started to grow fuzzy. He focused on his surroundings: white ceiling, beige walls. White sheets covering his body.

Hospital. It was as if he'd blinked during a nightmare, and it'd all gone away through some trick or twist of time, he was somewhere else, with no memory of how he'd gotten there.

No memory, and no idea how much time had gone by.

It wasn't like on TV, where people always seemed to wake up to find the concerned faces of family or friends hovering over them. At first, there was just the ceiling, and then he realized a voice had been calling to him for how long now?

f.u.c.k, he didn't know.

A face clouded his vision, female and unfamiliar. Judging by the scrubs, she was a nurse.

"Jackson? Jackson."

She knew his name, but he didn't know hers, so he settled for making a sound deep in his throat.

It felt like gargling rocks, but she seemed satisfied.

"You're just getting out of surgery. The anesthesia is still wearing off, but I need you to stay awake, okay? In a few minutes, we'll move you to another room."

His heart slammed against his ribs in slow motion. Surgery?

He focused on the pain in his leg and took comfort in it at least it meant it was still there. Unless he was experiencing that phantom limb s.h.i.+t, or whatever it was called. Straining to lift his head, he stared down at the silhouette of his body beneath the sheets.

He seemed to be all there.

"Your left leg needed surgery. Dr. Moses did the operation, and he's one of our best. You're in good hands."

He wanted to ask questions, but his mind was swimming in a fog and his tongue was like a bar of lead in his mouth. He willed his mind to clear and his tongue to lighten.

By the time he could actually hold up his end of a weak conversation with the nurse, she was moving him.

She didn't really answer his questions just said the doctor would see him shortly.

The room they moved him to looked like a standard hospital room, nothing fancy. Which he took as a good sign. At the same time, everything seemed shrouded in a dream-like fog.

He remembered the house on Mead Avenue, the battered woman and the gunfire. And he remembered Sanders hiding somewhere in the background, the traitorous b.a.s.t.a.r.d. But his anger was dulled by shock and anesthesia, which combined to leave him feeling as if his head were stuffed with cotton.

The pain didn't help his clarity of mind, either.

A sinking feeling settled in his chest, hollowing him out emotionally. Though his thoughts were fogged, he was fully aware that he was bedridden his leg felt like a burning log joined to the rest of him by aching muscle and sinew. Walking was out of the question.

How bad was the damage, though? Would the pain be a flash in the pan, or had he worked his last s.h.i.+ft for the PD without even realizing it?

The thought was like a physical blow. He'd worked so hard to make something of himself, and someone had literally shot his leg out from under him. Lying in that hospital bed, he didn't feel like himself.

His mind raced to catch up, to establish a grip on what had happened. Meanwhile, he focused on steeling himself for whatever news the doctor delivered.

Jackson's surgery took a couple hours. During that time, Belle and Elijah sat side by side in a waiting room. They were silent most of the time what was there to say, other than what'd been said outside, beneath the ER awning?

Elijah's mother came by. She was pet.i.te, blonde and looked nothing like her six foot plus son, except for a slight resemblance in the eyes. She brought homemade food, which Elijah insisted on sharing with Belle.

It smelled good but she couldn't taste it. She ate anyway there was enough for at least three people, and she'd need the energy since sleeping that night was out of the question.

Mariah came by too while on break and gave Belle a silent hug.

When the nurse Elijah had been badgering regularly for updates finally told them they could see Jackson, Belle tensed with sudden purpose.

She felt drawn to his room like the tide was drawn to sh.o.r.e, but at the same time, her dread multiplied with every step. As she followed the nurse into Jackson's room, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was waiting for the other shoe to fall for the happiness she and Jackson had been enjoying to be cut out from under them.

Seeing him lying between white hospital sheets sent a sharp pain through her chest. He didn't look like himself in that bed, with a grey patterned gown draping his broad shoulders instead of his usual uniform or t-s.h.i.+rt. Maybe it was due to the blood loss, or just the lighting, but he looked frighteningly pale.

The golden-tan hue was gone from his skin, and it made his strawberry blond hair seem shockingly bright above his pale face.

His eyes were the same beautiful blue they'd always been, though and they were open.

"Hey man," Elijah said, approaching the bed. "We've been waiting for you to get out of surgery. Hear it went okay."

"That's what the doctor says."

Hearing Jackson speak was a relief, but Belle's heart kept on pounding.

"The shooter is in custody and being treated for gunshot wounds," Elijah continued. "You stopped him. His girlfriend is here being patched up she's in rough shape but they expect her to pull through, thanks to you."

Jackson's face was impa.s.sive. "What about that f.u.c.kwit Sanders?"

Elijah maintained an impressively controlled expression. "He'll get what's coming to him, but he's not a priority right now."

"I had my body cam on."

"I know. Like I said, he'll get what's coming to him."

Elijah sounded sure. Jackson looked ... exhausted.

Belle reached for his right hand, which unlike his left was clear of IV lines. It was warmer than it looked beneath the bleaching hospital lights.

"I'm so glad the transfusion and surgery were successful," she said. "How do you feel?"

"All right."

"Sure... Make sure you tell the doctors and nurses the truth, okay?"

"No promises they might keep me here longer." His lips twitched he wasn't quite smiling, but it was something.

"So what? You're exactly where anyone who's just been shot is supposed to be."

"Not looking forward to the hospital food."

"My mom came by with food while you were in surgery," Elijah said.

"Rub it in... b.a.s.t.a.r.d." Jackson's lips twitched again.

"I'm sure I can talk her into bringing you some tomorrow. You know her she's probably cooking right now."

"Here's hoping."