“Not now, Bill,” I respond, my own voice so devoid of emotion, I wonder if I’m even in this room at all.
“Yes, now.”
I stand. I need to go to her. I need to make sure she’s alright.
“No, I have to go to the hospital. We have to go. We have to know if she’s okay,” I tell him, my voice growing increasingly panicky as I consider she might not make it. I sit back down. I shake Cash. I try to stand; it doesn’t work. I reach my arm out in the direction they took her. I hear the sirens get further away. “Where are they taking her, Billy?” I ask.
“I’ll tell you after you make your statement, Duke.”
I fly to my feet and grab his lapels. “Tell me!” I cry, tears flowing down my cheeks.
“Duke, I know emotions are all over the place right now but if you don’t take your hand off me, I will have to cuff you. You have to make a statement before I can release you.” He stares me directly in the eyes. “I can either bring you to the station or you can tell me here. But there is a woman with a knife in her side and a dead man over there. Andyouhave to tell me what happened.”
I see Cash moving around, trying to sit up. I crouch down. “Cash, come on buddy.” I help him to his feet, and he takes in my frantic eyes and my tear-stained face.
“Is she dead, Duke?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know,” I tell him, my breathing shallow and fast.
“Cash, Duke, come out here, so we can talk away from,” he waves his hand at the blood, “all of this.”
Cash’s breathing catches as he looks around, looks at me, looks down his body, blood covering both us and all the surfaces.
“You killed him, Duke.”
“He might have killed her,” is my response as I walk out, following Billy into the living room.
It takes two hours of sitting at her little dining table before the police are satisfied. We washed up as best we could before we sat down, and I watched Caroline’s blood swirl down the drain and my throat felt like it was closing.
I shake Billy’s hand, and he clamps a hand on each of our shoulders.
“I’m real sorry for what happened here tonight, guys,” he tells us the hospital she was taken to but doesn’t tell us anything else.
We head out into the night which is quickly becoming early morning. The sun will be rising in the next hour or so and I am so bone-deep tired, into my soul, as I walk with heavy steps down the stairs that are covered in blood, through the kicked in door, and to my truck. I had to surrender my gun to the police, for forensics. I climb in behind the wheel as Cash joins me. Everything feels disjointed. Out of order. The smallest things sticking out in my head.
Leaving the lot, I see Vickie and Pete pulling in. I don’t stop as we head toward the hospital. They’ve already transferred her to a trauma hospital in Billings, which means, at least she survived the trip. The sun lightens the sky as we pull into the parking lot. I climb out, and unbutton my shirt, trying to remove some of the blood from my body. Cash and I look like murderers. And maybe I am. I can’t feel guilty for it.
“Good morning,” I tell the woman behind the reception desk as she takes in our appearance and her eyes widen. “We are looking for Caroline Pearce. She was brought it on a med-evac from the Inspiration Clinic?”
Her eyes register recognition. “Oh, yes of course, they saidyou would be coming. Head up to the fourth floor. They can tell you more there.”
“Is she okay?” Cash asks quietly from beside me.
Her eyes soften at his question. “I’m sorry, sir, I can’t tell you anything down here. Please head on up.”
In the elevator, I press the ‘four’ button, reading the chart above it. Fourth Floor – Trauma/Intensive Care Unit. I shove my knuckles between my teeth, biting down to stop the sob creeping up my throat. Cash stands close to me, his shoulder touching mine as we step out of the door together and head toward another desk.
“Mr. Williams? Mr. Colter? Let me call the doctor; the police called ahead to say you were on the way. Have a seat,” a woman dressed in scrubs tells us before we even fully approach.
“Please, is she okay?” Cash begs her.
“The doctor will tell you everything.”
“Ma’am with all due respect, I saw her wheeled out with a knife in her side hours ago. We drove all the way here and no one will even tell us if she’s alive. Please just tell us that.”
She listens to me, to the pleading in my voice. She types on her screen, moving her mouse around.
“She’s alive. Now please, go into the waiting room. I’ll have someone bring you something to change into.”