Chapter Twenty-Eight

Brielle

Within a half-hour of our arrival, Mari and Detective Tucker both show up, and I spend the next hour of my life with them, Anne, Benji, and Allen’s entire team in the waiting room just off the hospital’s surgical suites.

Sam sits off by himself in one corner of the room, brooding, his expression bleak. When I try to talk to him, he just shakes his head.

“I didn’t move fast enough,” is all he will say before he lapses into silence again, and I squeeze his hand before I honor his unspoken request for space and rejoin the rest of the team across the room.

I tuck myself between Mari and Anne, both of whom immediately reach out to hold my hands as a silent show of strength and support.

Mark returns from down the hall. “The waiter that was also hit is going to be fine. He’s being treated and he will be kept overnight.”

“Waiter? What waiter? I didn’t know anyone else was hurt,” I exclaim, my mind reeling.

“He was walking behind your chair when Allen was shot, honey,” Anne tells me. “After it went through Allen, the bullet kept going and hit the young man in the forearm.”

***

Two hours in, the lead surgeon finally appears to talk to us.

“He got lucky,” he tells us. “Bullet missed all the vital arteries and nerve bundles, and only nicked a secondary blood vessel. I repaired it and as much of the tissue damage as I could. He will have decreased mobility for a while, and he will need some physical therapy due to the trauma to the muscle tissue. But he should regain full use of his right arm.”

The tears I had held at bay flow freely as the man speaks.

“Oh, thank God. When can we see him?” I ask.

“Another half-hour or so,” he assures me. “Need to get him into post-op. I will make sure someone comes out to get you. No more than two at a time, for no more than five minutes at a time.”

***

“Now that we know for sure that Allen is going to be okay, I’m heading to the station,” Tucker tells us once the surgeon leaves. “I need to go interrogate our suspect.”

“Who is he?” I blurt out.

“Scott Bitzmore.”

I feel my face drain of color and I glance over at Anne, who looks as shocked as I feel.

“You know him?” Tucker asks.

“Yeah. He used to be a realtor. Lost his license a couple of years ago. He is very strange. Always gave off a weird vibe. He asked me out a couple of times, and I always said no.”

“For what it’s worth, Brielle’s not the only one who thought he was creepy,” Anne says firmly, her chin jutting out. “Doesn’t surprise me at all he’d be mixed up in something like this.”

“Interesting,” Tucker answers as he scribbles some notes on the little pad he always carries. “I’ll keep you posted.”

***

My friends continue to hold my hands as we wait until someone comes out to take me to Allen. After what seems like a lifetime, a kind-faced woman in scrubs appears.

“First two, please,” she beckons, and I look at the group, then stand.

“Come on, girl,” Hope says as she takes my arm. “You will feel better once you see for yourself that he is really going to be all right.”

We walk side-by-side down the narrow hall, turning right and following the surgical nurse through a set of doors labeled “Post-Op Recovery”.

“Bed two,” she says warmly, and points. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

I pause before I walk around the curtain, trying to brace myself for the worst. Instead, I am relieved to see that Allen is breathing on his own instead of still being intubated as I had feared.

I step forward, take his left hand with both of mine, and bring it to my lips to kiss it.

“I’m here, baby,” I whisper. “I’m here.”

He moans and turns his head toward me, his blue-grey eyes looking glassy and unfocused.

“Brielle,” he breathes, and smiles in recognition before his lids flutter shut and he goes under again.

“Hey, boss,” Hope murmurs as she moves to the right side of his bed. “How you feeling?”

“You get it?” he slurs, his eyes still closed. “Need to know that.”

“No, not yet, but I will.”

I raise an eyebrow, but she shakes her head at me and mouths not now.

“The doctor said you’re going to be okay,” I tell him, rubbing the back of the hand I am holding against my cheek. “And I am so grateful.”

“Hurt,” he moans, his brow furrowed as one of the machines monitoring his vitals begins to beep loudly.

A nurse joins us at his bedside. “Okay, Mr. Jones, no worries,” she soothes as she presses a button feeding into his IV, and his face relaxes again.

“Everyone is here for you,” I tell him as I put his hand down by his side. “So, I am going to let them come see you. I just wanted to make sure you are okay, and comfortable.”

I lean over, kiss him tenderly on the lips, and speak from my heart.

“I love you, Allen,” I whisper, then turn to go.

“Love you too, Bri,” I hear him say before he snores lightly, and I smile through my tears.

***

I dig my heels in at first, refusing to even leave the hospital, until Mari and Anne finally talk some sense into me.

“Honey, he is stoned out of his mind right now on anesthesia and pain medications,” Anne points out. “There is no point in you staying up here staring at him. He needs rest – and so do you.”

“You know she’s right, Bri,” Mari chimes in. “Come on. Come back to my place, and we’ll get some sleep, and we can come back up here first thing in the morning, all right?”

“Fine,” I concede. “Pete, is it safe for me to go home to at least grab some clothes?”

Allen’s men look at each other, then at me.

“We don’t think so,” Pete says as gently as he can. “You had two people calling you, remember? We have one guy in custody, and that is awesome. But we still don’t have a clue who the female is.”

“Do you have this person’s voice on tape?” Anne asks, completely calm. “If so, let Brielle listen to it. It’s not like she hasn’t heard all the messages already, and besides, it should narrow your search pretty damn quickly if she recognizes the voice, don’t you think?”

“That is an excellent idea,” I proclaim. “Let’s go do that first, and then I promise to go get some sleep.”

Pete sighs. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Anne and Benji both stand and give me a big hug. “You need anything, young lady, you call us,” Benji intones in his booming bass, and I nod.

***

Two hours later, I am slumped in my chair in Allen’s conference room, frustrated in addition to emotionally and physically frayed.

“I have no idea who that is,” I tell Pete and the rest of Allen’s team. “No idea at all. I mean, it sounds vaguely familiar, but I don’t know anyone from the Midwest. Maybe if I hear it again, I can – “

“Honey, we’ve listened to all of them nine times,” Mari points out. “I think the best thing for you right now – for all of us, actually - is to get some sleep. You can always try again tomorrow.”

“She’s right,” Mark says. “We can take you back to Allen’s house and take turns keeping watch while you rest.”

“Can Mari come with me? I don’t want to be alone.”

“You got it.”

***

Mark leads the three-car convoy to Allen’s house, and I stumble down the hallway to the master bedroom.

As I cross the threshold, Allen’s words come back to me, and my eyes fill with tears again.

The moment I get you back here, that dress is coming off.

I sniffle as I make my way into the bathroom to hang up the dress and pull on my sleep clothes, letting the tears stream freely again as I scrub my face and take down my hair. By the time I crawl into Allen’s king-sized bed and curl up on my side, clutching the pillow that smells like the man I love, I barely register that Mari is tucking me in.

I am so exhausted that sleep finds me in no time at all.